Front Cover
 The parable of St. Christopher
 The little old man in the...
 The boy emigrants
 Journeying through the day
 How plants come from seeds
 The birthday of Snibbuggledybo...
 Christmas in the Arctic region...
 Marjorie's birthday gifts
 Christmas in the Far East
 How Willie coasted by moonligh...
 Les aventures de cinq canards
 Toinette and the elves
 Good news on Christmas morning
 The story of Jon of Iceland
 A southern Christmas eve
 Bobby and the key-hole
 A couple of Crusoes
 Getting up in the world
 Waiting for the sleigh
 Jack in the pulpit
 My uncle Jehoshaphat
 Baby Bo
 Young contributors' department
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas.
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00030
 Material Information
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.
Subject: Children's literature
Literature for Children
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
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00030
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

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    The parable of St. Christopher
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
    The little old man in the forest
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
    The boy emigrants
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
    Journeying through the day
        Page 152
    How plants come from seeds
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
    The birthday of Snibbuggledyboozledom
        Page 156
    Christmas in the Arctic regions
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
    Marjorie's birthday gifts
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
    Christmas in the Far East
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
    How Willie coasted by moonlight
        Page 168
        Page 169
    Les aventures de cinq canards
        Page 170
    Toinette and the elves
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
    Good news on Christmas morning
        Page 177
    The story of Jon of Iceland
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
    A southern Christmas eve
        Page 183
    Bobby and the key-hole
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
    A couple of Crusoes
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
    Getting up in the world
        Page 195
    Waiting for the sleigh
        Page 196
        Page 197
    Jack in the pulpit
        Page 198
        Page 199
    My uncle Jehoshaphat
        Page 200
    Baby Bo
        Page 201
    Young contributors' department
        Page 202
    The letter-box
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
    The riddle-box
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text





By H. H.

To a king's court a giant came,-
"O King, both far and near
I seek," he said, the greatest king;
And thou. art he, .I hear.

"If it please thee, I will abide;
To thee my knee shall bend;
Only unto the greatest kings.
Can giants condescend."

Right glad the king the giant took
Into his service then,
For since Goliath's mighty days
No man so big was seen.

Well pleased the giant, too, to serve
The greatest king on earth;
He served him well, in peace, .in war,
In sorrow, and in mirth,

Till came a wandering minstrel by,
One day, who played and sang
Wild songs, through which the devil's name
Profanely, loudly rang.

Astonished then the giant saw
The king look sore afraid;
At mention of the devil's name,
The cross's sign he made.

"How now, my master! Why dost thou
Make on thy breast this sign?"
He said. "It is a spell," replied
The king-" a spell divine,

"Which shall the devil circumvent,
And keep me safe and whole
From all the wicked arts he tries
To slay my precious soul."

"Oh, ho,.my master! then he is
More powerful than thou !
They lied who called thee greatest king;
I leave thy service now,

"And seek the devil; him will I
My master call henceforth,"
The giant cried, and strode away
Contemptuous and wroth.

He found the devil soon. I ween
The devil waited near,
Well pleased to have this mighty man
Within his .ranks appear.

They journeyed on full many a day,
And now the giant deemed
At last he had a master found,
Who was the king he seemed.

But lo one day they came apace
STo where four road-ways met,.
And at the meeting of the roads
A cross of stone was set.

The devil trembled and fell back,
And said, "We go around."
"Now tell me," fierce the giant cried,
Why fearest thou this ground?"


No. 3.


The devil would not answer. "Then
I leave thee, master mine,"
The giant said. Of something wrong
This mystery is sign."

Then answered him the fiend, ashamed:
"'Twas there Christ Jesus died;
Wherever stands a cross like that,
I may not, dare not bide."

"Ho, ho !" the giant cried again,
Surprised again, perplexed;
"Then Jesus is the greatest king,-
I seek and serve him next."

The king named Jesus, far and near,
The weary giant sought;
His name was everywhere proclaimed,
His image sold and bought,

His power vaunted, and his laws
Upheld by sword and fire;
But him the giant sought in vain,
Until he cried in ire,

One winter eve, as late he came
Upon a hermit's cell:
'Now by my troth, tell me, good saint,
Where doth thy master dwell?

"For I have sought him far and wide,
By leagues of land and sea;
I seek to be his servant true,.
In honest fealty.

" I have such strength as kings desire,
State to their state to lend;
But only to the greatest king
Can giants condescend."

Then said the hermit, pale and wan:
"Oh, giant man indeed
The King thou seekest doth all kings
In glorious power exceed;

" But they who see him face to face,
In full communion clear,
Crowned with his kingdom's splendor bright,
Must buy the vision dear.

"Dwell here, 0 brother, and thy lot
With ours contented cast,
And first, that flesh be well subdued,
For days and nights thou'lt fast!"

"I fast the giant cried, amazed.
Good saint, I '11 no such thing.
My strength would fail; without that, I
Were fit to serve no king!"

"Then thou must pray," the hermit said;
"We kneel on yonder stone,
And tell these beads, and for each bead
A prayer, one by one."

The giant flung the beads away,
Laughing in scornful pride.
"I will not wear my knees on stones;
I know no prayers," he cried.

Then said the hermit: "Giant, since
Thou canst not fast nor pray,
I know not if our Master will
Save thee some other way.

"But go down to yon river deep,
Where pilgrims daily sink,
And build for thee a little hut
Close on the river's brink,

"And carry travelers back and forth
Across the raging stream;
Perchance this service to our King
A worthy one will seem."

"Now that is good," the giant cried;
"That work I understand;
A joyous task 't will be to bear
Poor souls from land to land,

"Who, but for me, would sink and drown.
Good saint, thou hast at length
Made mention of a work which is
Fit for a giant's strength."

For many a year, in lowly hut,
The giant dwelt content
Upon the bank, and back and forth
Across the stream he went,

And on his giant shoulders bore
All travelers who came,
By night, by day, or rich or poor,
All in King Jesus' name.

But much he doubted if the King
His work would note or know,
And often with a weary heart
He waded to and fro.





One night, as wrapped in sleep he lay,
He sudden heard a call:
"Oh, Christopher, come carry me !"
He sprang, looked out, but all

Was dark and silent on the shore.
It must be that I dreamed,"
He said, and laid him down again;
But instantly there seemed

Again the feeble, distant cry:
Oh, come and carry me "
Again he sprang, and looked; again
No living thing could see.

The third time came the plaintive voice,
Like infant's soft and weak;
With lantern strode the giant forth,
More carefully to seek.

Down on the bank a little child
He found,-a piteous sight,-
Who, weeping, earnestly implored
To cross that very night.

With gruff good-will, he picked him up,
And on his neck to ride,
He tossed him, as men play with babes,
And plunged into the tide.

But as the water closed around
His knees, the infant's weight
Grew heavier and heavier,
Until it was so great

The giant scarce could stand upright,
His staff shook in his hand,
His mighty knees bent under him,
He barely reached the land,

And, staggering, set the infant down,
And turned to scan his face;
When, lo he saw a halo bright
Which lit up all the place.



Then Christopher fell down afraid
At marvel of the thing,
And dreamed not that it was the face
Of Jesus Christ, his king,

SUntil the infant spoke, and said:
Oh, Christopher, behold !
I am the Lord whom thou hast served!
Rise up, be glad and bold!

"For I have seen and noted well
Thy works of charity;
And that thou art my servant good,
A token thou shalt see.

"Plant firmly here upon this bank
Thy stalwart staff of pine,
And it shall blossom and bear fruit,
This very hour, in sign."

Then, vanishing, the infant smiled.
The giant, left alone,
Saw on the bank, with luscious dates
His stout pine staff bent down.

For many a year, St. Christopher
Served God in many a land;
And master painters drew his face,
With loving heart and hand,

On altar fronts and church's walls;
And peasants used to say,
To look on good St. Christopher
Brought luck for all the day.

I think the lesson is as good
To-day as it was then-
As good to us called Christians
As to the heathen men:

The lesson of St. Christopher,
Who spent his strength for others,
And saved his soul by working hard
To help and save his brothers !








THE New Year's story I am about to tell is
well known to German children, all of whom go
tripping through fairyland in the golden days of
childhood. It was written by a good German
baron, Frederic de la Motte Fouqu6, who wrote
the beautiful fairy-story Undine," about which
all of our readers have heard. It does not appear,
however, in the popular translations of the works
of the delightful old baron. It is quite a romance
in the original, but we have reduced it to a very
brief and simple story.
The nobleman who wrote it, and who loves
good people and children almost as much as Hans
Christian Andersen loved them, 'declares that this
is a story that ought to be told. He does not say
why; he leaves his readers, young and old, to
guess that by their own firesides. So, you see,
the story is something of a riddle-one must live
in a particular way to find it out.
Berthold was a German merchant. He traveled
much from city to city. In. Germany there are long,
dark forests, through which he often journeyed.
One evening, he became bewildered in one of
these forests. He was riding on horseback, and
just as the far sunset was flaming over the tall tops
of the trees above him, he was startled to find he
had ridden out of his way. He carried great treas-
ure in his saddle-bags-jewels, ready money and
bills of exchange. In the recesses of the forests
there were robbers.
As he was proceeding along a lone defile, after
nightfall, he espied a man -i l!: ri in the foot-path
before him. He called to him, saying:
"Who are you? "
"I am a collier. I live with my family apart
from the world, in this forest."
Can you give a stranger who.has lost his way
a night's lodging ? "
I have no right to refuse hospitality to a stran-
ger. In God's name, you are welcome."
Berthold followed the man till they came to a
little cottage. The good wife met them at the
door with a lamp, and a happy family of children
greeted the collier's return.
The evening passed pleasantly. The merchant
told stories of his journeys, and soon felt at home
among the children gathered lovingly around him.
At last it was proposed that they should sing.
The sweet voices of the children were just joining
in a merry roundelay, when a sudden and loud
knocking was heard at the door. The children

stopped singing, and the collier said firmly: In
the name of God, come in "
Upon this, the door slowly opened, and a little
old man, of gentle appearance and manners, came
stealing in, greeting the family courteously, and
taking the lowest place at the table. His garments
were of some ancient pattern; he seemed wan and
woe-begone, as though reduced by disease. Ber-
thold gazed at him with a feeling of great curiosity
and surprise, but said nothing. He once met his
eye; there was something in it so deeply myste-
rious that he felt a chill creeping over him, and he
began to be restless and ill at ease.
At last the little old man folded his hands, and,
turning to the collier, said:
It is the hour of prayer."
The collier at once began to sing Now all the
woods are sleeping," in which the whole family
joined, filling the house with such delightful music
that the merchant listened like one enchanted.
Presently a voice rose above the rest. It startled
Berthold, and made the cottage tremble. It was
the little old man's.
The family knelt down, and the collier prayed.
Then they all rose up with loving words, and the
little old man glided out of the door, bowing as
humbly as when he came in.
SBut presently the door opened again, and the
little old man once more appeared. He threw a
look of fearful wildness upon Berthold, then dis-
appeared, the door closing after him with violence.
He is a little touched in mind," said the mer-
chant, nervously.
He is perfectly harmless," said the collier. "I
have not seen any evil in him for a long time.
But," he added, "the only chamber I can give
you for the night has a door that does not shut very
tightly; he comes into it in the night, but do not
fear him; if you do not think any evil thought or
do any evil act, he will go out of his own accord."
Berthold's heart was now far from tranquil. He
pressed his portmanteau of treasures close to his
side as the collier lighted him up the narrow stair-
way to his room.
He lay down, placing his portmanteau and
weapons beside him on the bed, but he could
not sleep. He remembered what the collier had
said about the little old man, that the safeguard
against him was the absence of all evil thoughts
and acts. In this respect the collier's family seemed
secure; but the merchant knew how great was his




own greed for gain; how it made him hard and
uncharitable, and he tried to put away all evil
thoughts and to think of the hymn, "Now the
woods are all reposing," lest the little old man
should appear.
A little past midnight he fell into a troubled
sleep, and his mind began to wander over his
schemes for gain. He was dreaming of the good
bargain he had made, or expected to make, when
he was startled by a noise close by. He raised
himself in bed, and saw the little old man in the

gage !" he exclaimed, seizing his pistols. The little
old man started back, as in terror. He seemed
to be in an agony of prayer. A change seemed
coming over him. He appeared conscious of.it,
and, going toward the door, disappeared.
Berthold gazed after him and then remembered
the collier's admonition in regard to the danger of
evil thoughts. He wished that he had acted differ-
ently, for he wished to bring no evil on the family.
There was a sound at the latch; the door opened,
when an evil-looking giant, wearing a red mantle,

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moonlight, moving about the room. The merchant
at first looked upon him with a feeling of curiosity
rather than alarm or anger, and while he did so,
all was well. But he at last became irritable under
the disturbance, and, when the little old man at
last approached the bed, Berthold's irritability kin-
dled into anger, and wicked thoughts began to fill
his mind, and he found it hard to restrain his lips
from wicked words.
At last, the little old man touched the portman-
teau containing the merchant's treasures. This
was too much. The merchant's caution forsook
him, and he was filled with rage.
"Back! you vile robber! back, from my bag-


appeared. He laughed wildly, and said: "I begin
to be free again. You have made me grow!"
Berthold saw that the giant was none other than
the little old man.
The merchant leaped from his bed and dis-
charged his pistol. The giant vanished, growing
taller and more fearful as he disappeared.
In a moment, the collier hurried up the stairs.
"In the name of God," said he, rushing into
the room, what have you been doing to our
house-spirit? "
House-spirit! said Berthold, like one in a
dream. "What do you mean ?"
He has just gone out of the house," said the



I~p -~


collier, "perfectly monstrous in his size, and in-
flamed with fury !"
But the collier saw that the merchant did not
understand him, and he entreated him to go down
into the common apartment where all of the family,
aroused by the report of the pistol, had now met.
The children shrunk away from him as he entered
the room, and the collier's wife was in tears.
"And now," said the good woman, "we must
live all those years over again."
This may all seem strange to you," said the
collier to the merchant; "but when my wife and
I first came to the cottage to live, we found it
haunted by a terrible specter, such as I have just
seen disappear. But I said to myself, I will not fear
him, for if I am a truly Christian man no power of
evil can harm me. I will overcome him with a
good life, and he shall not overcome me. So, in
the name of God, I remained. Red Mantle-for
such is his name-appeared to us continually, but
we ceased to fear him. I brought up mylittle ones
to believe that nothing could harm them while they
trusted in God; and that any specter would grow
less and less who dwelt in a family who had loving
hearts and lived pure lives. So Red Mantle at
last became my little ones' playmate. We re-
strained our dispositions, we guarded our thoughts,
we loved each other. We prayed together much,
and the specter began to grow more gentle and to
shrink in size, year by year, until he became the
dwarf you saw when he came in the evening to
prayers. All evil disappeared from his face, and
we all loved him as a meek and harmless house-

spirit, and expected that he would soon be released
from this troubled state and vanish forever."
The next morning, the merchant left the cot-
tage. Years passed away; he traveled from city
to city, and into countries remote from Germany,
but he never forgot the experiences of that night.
One afternoon, near sunset, he found himself on
the borders of the same forest as before, and he
resolved again to strike down the defile and see
what had become of the good collier family.
SIt was somewhat late when the cottage appeared
before him. He dismounted and entered. They
were singing, "Now all the woods are sleeping."
It was the hour of prayer !
The merchant knelt down beside the white-
haired old man, expecting every moment the
house-spirit would re-appear. But the little old
man did not come. Only a soft light was shed
abroad amid the shadows of the room, and a sweet,
low melody arose, like the touch of the most deli-
cate fingers on finely attuned musical-glasses..
It was all that remained of the house-spirit, for
the collier and his family had all these .years lived
pure and holy lives.
That was once our house-spirit," said the
collier, but it can only now make its presence
known to us as a gentle light and a strain of music,
sweet and 'low. We have subdued him by inno-
cence and prayer."
O ye who read this untrue, true story by the
light of the winter fireside, does the new year open
with some specter in your hearts and homes?
Unriddle the tale of the collier family.



POOR, sweet Piccola Did you hear
What happened to Piccola, children dear?
'T is seldom Fortune such favor grants
As fell to this little maid of France.

'T was Christmas-time, and her parents poor
Could hardly drive the wolf from the door,
Striving with poverty's patient pain
Only to live till summer again.

No gifts for Piccola Sad were they
When dawned the morning of Christmas-day;
Their little darling no joy might stir,
St. Nicholas nothing would bring to her!




But Piccola never doubted at all
That something beautiful must befall
Every child upon Christmas-day,
And so she slept till the dawn was gray.

And full of faith, when at last she woke,
She stole to her shoe as the morning broke;
Such sounds of gladness filled all the air,
'T was plain St. Nicholas had been there 1

In rushed Piccola sweet, half wild-
Never was seen such a joyful child.
" See what the good saint brought! she cried,
And mother and father must peep inside.

- "-- '

S_--- -
-\ ._ ,

;F K.

'-','II "


Now such a story who ever heard?
There was a little shivering bird !
A sparrow, that in at the window flew,
Had crept into Piccola's tiny shoe !

" How good poor Piccola must have been "
She cried, as happy as any queen,
While the starving sparrow she fed and warmed,
And danced with rapture, she was so charmed.

Children, this story I tell to you,
Of Piccola sweet and her bird, is true.
In the far-off land of France, they say,
Still do they live to this very day.



. 1 1'





S-. HE boys were a little shy
S *'--" of Mr. Montague Morse.
He had the appearance
Sof "a city chap," Hiram
Fender said. He wore
I ''d velvet vest, a black frock-
S. -. i I somewhat seedy, to be sure),
i'- iris trousers, though tucked
'. ..... i he tops of his calfskin boots,
..: more suitable for Boston
streets than for the plains. Then
he was very precise in his language, and had a way
of saying "' good morning," instead of morning' to
yer," which quite discomfited Hiram and Tom. The
latter took the earliest opportunity to declare that
"that Boston feller was cranky." It seemed very
odd, too, that he should be knocking about there
on the frontier, alone, and seeking a chance to get
in with some party bound across the continent.
To be sure, he said that his party had broken up
and had left a yoke of cattle on his hands; but
how did they know that he had not stolen these
oxen? Arthur fairly shuddered when this dark
suspicion crossed his mind ; and he looked involun-
tarily to see if their new acquaintance did not have
the game leg" by which Johnny had described a
missing adventurer. Morse, however, told a very
straightforward story, and his manner was so frank
and open that one of the party, at least, regarded
him with favor. Barnard said, after much delibera-
tion, That fellow is clear grit."
One afternoon, the boys, leaving Tom at home
" to keep house," crossed the river and hunted up
Morse, who was temporarily quartered at the camp
of some Illinois men. They saw his oxen quietly
grazing in the meadow hard by, and soon satisfied
themselves that he had honestly come into posses-
sion of them. The people at the Illinois camp
knew all the circumstances of the breaking up of
the Boston man's party, and they incidentally told
the story all over again while gossiping about the
intended trade with our boys.
But if we take your cattle in with our team, we
shall have to trade off our horses, and get a yoke
of oxen for ourselves," interposed Barnard.
Hosses ? have you got a hoss for sale? asked
one of the Illinois party.

"We have a pair," replied Barnard, "which
we shall not want if we go on with cattle. What
do you think are best for the plains-cattle or
horses ?"
"Well, some allow that losses is best, because
they're the fastest; then, agin, there's them that
allows that cattle's best, because they hold out
better in the long run. Then, agin, cattle can feed
where bosses would e'enamost starve to death.
Hosses is delicate critters, powerful delicate. How
much do you allow you '11 get for yer hoss ? "
Hiram broke in with the information that they
had not made up their minds to sell. They were
only considering the matter. At this, a silent man,
who was mending his trousers in a corner of the
tent, spoke up:
I know four chaps camped down by the creek.
They've got a cheap yoke of cattle-a young cow
and a smart little steer ; jest the thing for a leading'
Arthur laughed outright at the idea of driving a
cow in an ox-team.
"Well, yer may laugh, young feller," said the
man, as he shut one eye to thread his needle;
"but let me tell ye that cows is cows in Californy-
one hundred and sixty or seventy dollars a head,
I've heerd tell; and a good driving' cow will pull
like all possessed, if she 's rightly yoked. Then
there's yer milk all through, yer see, fur nothing ,
so to speak." And he resumed his mending.
It would n't do any harm to go and see that
team of mixed critters," suggested Hiram.
So the boys started up, and, getting directions
from the party in the tent, went off in search of the
camp by the creek. As they were moving away,
the spokesman of the Illinois men called after
I '11 trade with ye for that white hoss of your'n.
I seen him when we war coming' through loway.
Say sixty-five dollars ? '
He's wuth seventy-five," called back Hiram;
and the boys went on i.:.:l.. i, the Boston man
leading off at a great pace. They searched around
a long time before they found the camp of the men
who had a yoke of cattle to sell. At most of the
camps where they inquired, things seemed gloomy.
The latest news from California was unfavorable.
Many were talking about turning back; but many
others were doggedly completing their preparations
for the final start. One man, standing on the wheel




of his wagon, with a marking-brush and pot of
paint, was printing on its canvas cover the words,
"California or bust." This was a sort of defiant
declaration that many men thought it necessary
to make, considering how many people were en-
deavoring to discourage others. The sign was
common on the tents and wagon-covers of the
emigrants. Others had such inscriptions as, We
are bound to go through," or "Bound for the
Sacramento," and one party had painted on their
wagon-cover, Root, hog, or die."
It was a picturesque sight, this city of emigrants.
More people were here than on the east side of the
river. Most of them had completed their outfit at
Council Bluffs, and were fixing up the few odds
and ends that were needed before the final start.
They already affected the rude ways and manners
of the plains. For the most part, the men wore
slouched hats and red or blue flannel shirts ; they
discarded coats and vests, and wore belts at the
waist. The weather was mild, for it was now early
May, and groups of emigrants were cooking in the
open air, or carrying on a sort of outdoor house-
keeping, of which their wagons were the founda-
tion. Here and there was a family of father,
mother, and children. One wagon the. boys saw
had "No more Missoury for us" painted on its
dingy red cover in black letters; a flock of white-
haired children-Arthur said there were sixteen
-climbed out and in, staring open-eyed at the
strangers. This populous group had no tent, but
lived wholly in the wagon, an enormous affair with
a tall top, high at each end and lower in the
middle. The father of the family, a yellow-faced,
discouraged-looking man, wearing mud-colored
clothes of homespun, allowed" that he was from
"Arkansaw," and was not quite sure whether he
should go to California or Oregon. He should go
by the North Platte route, and turn off to the north
by the Fort Hall road, if the gold news should
"peter out" by the time he reached that point.
Gosh how that Boston feller do walk," sighed
Hiram, who found it difficult to keep up with their
new comrade. Morse strode on ahead, talking
eagerly over his shoulder; the hard buds of the
"rosin-weed" plants that covered the meadow rat-
tled against his boot-legs as he measured off the
ground. Arthur trotted along somewhat labori-
ously, and wondered if all Boston people walked
like Mr. Montague Morse.
They found the men who had the ox and cow for
sale -four great hulking fellows who had four yoke
of cattle among them. They had had two wagons,
one of which they had exchanged for provisions
and cash in the town of Council Bluffs, and the
other they retained. They would sell the ox and
cow together for sixty-five dollars. The cow was

" skittish and a little wild-like," but a good milker
and was first-rate in the yoke. The steer-well,
there he was, a small black fellow, with one horn
crumpled down in the oddest sort of way.
Strong as a steam-ingine," explained the owner.
Strong as a steam-ingine and tame as a kitten.
And, stranger, he 's just the knowingest critter
you ever see. 'Pears like he was human, some-
times-hey, Tige !" and the man affectionately
patted the little black steer on his nose.
Is this all you 've got to sell ? asked Hiram,
rather discontentedly.
"Well, the fact is, strangerr" replied the man,
" we don't reely want to sell. 'Pon my word, we
don't. But we 've no need fur all these cattle, and
we do need the money. I just hate like pison to
part with Old Tige. (His name's Tiger, you see,
and we call him Tige, for short.) But we've got
three other yoke and a light load; and we allow to
go through right part, without no trouble."
The boys walked around the cattle two or three
times more, their owner entertaining them with
a long string of praises of his odd yoke, as he sat
on the wagon-tongue and talked fast.
"Come now, say sixty dollars and it's a trade.
I want the money powerful bad," he concluded.
Arthur pulled Hiram's sleeve and said:
"Take him, Hi; take him. I like that little
black steer."
Hiram spoke up: "Give us the refusal of this
yer yoke of cattle until to-morrow ?"
We have not yet concluded whether we shall
buy any cattle here, or go on with our horses,"

. -


explained Barnard.
Morse looked a lit-
tle disappointed, but
said nothing.
It was agreed that
Sthe boys should have
Until next day to
Make up their minds
about buying the
cattle at sixty dol-
lars for the yoke. As
they walked back,
M orse, ,1 .., : i, lii

whipping off the weed-tops with his ox-goad, said:
You fellows take account of stock--wagon,
outfit, provisions, and team. I'll put in my yoke
of cattle and my share of provisions and outfit, or
money to buy them, and will pay you my propor-
tion of the cost of the wagon. Partnership limited;
the concern to be sold out when we get through;
share and share alike. How's that ?"
"That 's fair." said Barnard. But Hiram nudged
him, and he added: We'll talk it over. You come
across and see us the fust thing to-morrow morning."




It was agreed, and the boys went back to their
camp to discuss the proposition. Barnard and
Hiram were really the final authorities in the mat-
ter; but Arthur and Tom exercised the younger
brother's privilege of saying what they thought
about it. Arthur thought the Boston man must be
a good fellow. He was bright and smart; and
Arthur had noticed that he spoke cheerily to the
white-headed children in the Arkansas wagon.
Besides, he was always pleasant and full of jokes,
added the boy, with a feeling that that was not
conclusive, though he had formed his opinions
partly by it.
I suppose we have really made up our minds
to go with oxen. I like that Boston chap. We
can't get another yoke of cattle-if we sell your
horse and buy the ox-and-cow yoke-any better
than by taking this man into camp with us,"
argued Barnard.
But them store clothes !" said Hiram, with
some disgust.
Why, he can't help it if he has to wear out his
old city clothes," said Arthur, eagerly. He is not
foolish enough to throw them away. So he wears
'em out for common ones. Don't you see?"
"And he's a powerful walker," added Hiram,
with an expression of admiration on his freckled
face. Golly how that chap kin walk, though !"
And this turned the scale. The Boston man was
solemnly voted into the partnership.
Tom once more objected that Morse was "stuck
up," and he was once more suppressed by his
brother, who reminded him that he talked too
much with his mouth. This frequent rebuke hav-
ing silenced Tom, Hiram added:
"A feller that knows as much about cattle as he
does, and kin walk like he does, is n't stuck up.
Besides, he '11 put in just about eighty-dollars inter
the company's mess."
At this, little Johnny, who still clung to the boys,
started up. "Eighty dollars Oh, I've got eighty
dollars. Wont you take me through for that? "
Hiram looked with some disdain on the little
fellow, who was trembling with excitement, and
said : You got eighty dollars, my little kid!
Where ?"
Johnny hastily slipped off his striped trousers,
and, turning out the lining of the waistband, showed
eight flat, round disks of something hard, carefully
sewed in.
"Them's it! them's it! Eighton'em; eight
ten-dollar gold pieces, all sewed in." And, slit-
ting little holes in the cloth, he showed the coins,
sure enough, each sewed in separately from the
Poor little chap We don't want to take your
money," said Barnard.

No," added Hiram. "Besides, you haint got
no clothes wuth speaking about. You can't go
across the plains in them clothes."
They're not 'store clothes,' though, Hiram,"
added Arthur, with a laugh. Arthur's heart had
gone out to the poor little waif, and he reminded
his comrades that part of his money might be used
for an outfit, and it would be only fair to take part
as his share of the cost of the trip.
Besides, I've got clothes," said the waif; and,
unrolling his bundle, he showed some coarse woolen
shirts, a pair of cowhide shoes, overalls, and a few
small articles of wearing apparel.
Barnard inspected these critically, and said:
"No woman folks put these up; but they'll do
better than nothing."
Arthur felt a touch of homesickness at this re-
mark, and his thoughts flew back to his mother as
he glanced over his own tidy suit, the work of his
mother's hands. He saw her again at the garden-
gate, as he had seen her many a time while camp-
ing out in the lonely Iowa prairies; and, with a
soft voice, he said:
Let's take Johnny along, boys. He shall have
half of my blankets."
"What do you say, Barney?" asked Hiram,
with a little glow in his honest heart, though he
looked at the waif with an air of severe scrutiny.
I 'm agreed, if you are," replied Barnard.
" But I tell you what it is, Arty,-our tent is full,
and we can't have any more passengers nor lodgers.
The partnership is complete this time."
At this, Johnny, who had ripped out the gold
coins from his waistband, put them into Hiram's
hand, and said:
Am I going through with you ? "
"Well, I allow you shall go through with us,
youngster. It's share and share alike, you know;
and you are to do your part of the work. That's
all. There's nothing' coming' to ye when we get
through. Understand that?" And a hard look
flitted across the young man's face as he jingled
the gold in his palm.
Johnny protested that he understood the bargain
perfectly. He was to have such clothes as they
thought necessary. The rest of his cash was to
pay for his share of the provisions needed for the
Next day, Morse came over early, with the in-
formation that the Illinois men would give seventy
dollars for Hiram's white horse. Morse was in-
formed of the conclusion of the partnership dis-
cussion. The terms were once more gone over
and fairly understood on both sides, and the bar-
gain was ratified.
"Now, then," said Barnard. "This is Mister
Hiramh Fender, late of Lee County, Illinois, known




as Hi Fender, for short. This is Thomas Fender,
brother of the same, and 'a right peart boy,' as
he says; otherwise Tom. And this infant is my
brother, Arthur Adams Stevens, probably the best
boy that ever lived-except me; and is known in
this camp as Arty. As for myself, I am Arty's
brother, which is glory enough for me, and my
name is Barker Barnard Stevens; otherwise Bar-
nard, usually called Barney for short, and some-
times dubbed Barney Crogan by my small and
impertinent brother."
The boys laughed heartily at this long speech.
Morse, not to be outdone in advancing into inti-
mate acquaintance, said:
"Permit me, gentlemen, to introduce myself-
Montague Perkins Morse, late of Hovey & Co.'s,
Boston; now bound for California, or bust; and
generally known as Mont Morse, or, if you prefer
it, Mont,-and very much at your service."
With a great deal of enthusiasm, the boys cele-
brated this happy conclusion of affairs by going
over the river and closing the two bargains. The
white horse was sold to the Illinois men for seventy
dollars; and they took Tige and Molly, for these
were the names of the ox and cow, at the sum
agreed upon the day before.
We will move over here to-morrow," said Hi-
ram, and we will take the cattle off your hands
But to-morrow is Sunday," said Mont. "We
are not going to travel Sundays, are we ?"
Hiram looked a little troubled for a moment.
Then Barney cheerily said:
"Oh, no; we are not going to travel Sundays,
except in cases of great emergency. Are we, Hi ?"
"Certainly not," answered Hiram, briskly.
Never allow to travel on Sundays, not if we can
help it."
Then you '11 keep the cattle until Monday,
wont you ? asked Barnard.
Well, if you fellers are too pious to come over
on Sunday, you may take 'em away now," said the
man, gruffly.
"All right," replied Hiram. '" We '11 take them
now, and be beholden to nobody for nothing. "
So the cattle were taken across the ferry, and
the boys had milk with their corn-meal mush that
"A mean old hunks," growled Hiram. "Wanted
us to smash Sunday all to pieces, did he ? Well, I
allow we made just two milkings out of him."
Sunday here was not like the Sabbath at home.
Labor was generally suspended throughout the
camps, however, except where some impatient
party stole out with their teams, driving along with
a half-subdued air, as if afraid to smash Sunday
all to pieces." Generally, the emigrants, looking

neat but uneasy in their particularly clean clothes,
lounged about the wagons and traded in under-
tones, or discussed the latest news from California
by way of the States.
The bright May sun shone down upon a motley
mass of people scattered among tents or grouped
around wagons. About noon, the blowing of a
horn announced that a religious service, of which
notice had been previously circulated, would begin.
There was a general sauntering in the direction of
a cluster of wagons, near which a preacher, stand-
ing on a feed-box, called the people about him.
Five or six women, wives of emigrants, aided by
twice as many men, formed a choir, and their
voices rose sweetly on the air with the familiar
hymns of Christian service. Then the minister,
after devotional exercises, preached a little sermon
from the text in Romans viii., 17. He talked about
heirs and heirship; he dwelt on the fact that they
were all seeking an inheritance, and while he
advised wisdom and prudence in this search, ad-
monishing the people about him to seek the true
riches, he reminded them that they were joint
heirs; that their inheritance was mutual. He
taught them to forbear with one another; to be
patient, loving, and to go on in their journey of
life, as across the continent, with unselfishness,
bearing each other's burdens.
That's a right smart chance of a sermon," said
Hiram, as they moved away after the last hymn
had been sung and the attentive crowd had dis-
persed. A good sermon; and just you remember
what the parson said about toting one another's
burdens, you Tom, will ye ? "
Tom received this lesson with some show of in-
dignation, and said: O yes, you're the man that
hears sermons for some other feller, you are."
But Arthur added, in the interest of peace:
Tige can't carry the yoke alone. Molly must
bear up her end. So if you and I don't wash the
dishes and get supper, Hi and Barnard can't drive
the wagon and get wood and water."
Good for you, Arty," said Hiram, heartily.
"And even little Johnny here is going' to pitch in
and do his share. I know he is, for I seen him
choppin' wood this morning' like sixty."
Johnny colored with pleasure at this rude praise,
and Arty declared that Johnny was one of the joint
heirs whom the preacher had talked about.
The debate about the sermon and their future
united interests was a good end to a pleasant day.
Mont had taken up his abode with the party.
The tent was full, and the six young fellows were
paired off among the quilts and blankets that cov-
ered their floor of grassy earth.
That night, Arthur felt Johnny stirring under
the blankets by his side.




What is the matter, Johnny ?" he asked.
The boy put his thin hand on his companion's
shoulder, and whispered in his ear, I love you."
Arty kissed the little waif and said, It's a bar-
gain." Then they slept again.

"WELL, now, Johnny, you do look right peart."
This was Hiram's opinion of the little lad when
he had been equipped with his new clothes. He
brought enough apparel with him for common
wear; but he needed a serviceable suit for a change.
This, with the necessary boots and shoes, a warm
jacket for cold weather, and some additional sup-
plies which his enlistment in the company required
to be bought, made quite a hole in the eighty dol-
lars which he had put into the common fund.
Never mind, youngster," said the good-natured
Hi. "I allow we'll have enough for all hands to
get through on; so as you pitch in and do your
share of work, we sha' n't find no fault."
Johnny declared his willingness to do all he could
for the benefit of the company, whether it was pick-
ing up fuel, washing dishes, or driving the team.
He was quite a man now, he thought, though only
a little fellow. For was n't he bound for California
to make his fortune ? And he was going with his
own resources, too, and could earn his way. This
thought made the boy cheerful and happy; the
color came again into his cheeks; he grew merry
and frolicsome ; and, before the last days of prep-
aration were over, the poor outcast was, as Hi said,
"right peart."
They had delayed at the river a long time.
There were many things to be disposed of, and
their places supplied with articles which were more
needed. There were preventive against scurvy to
be bought, for they had heard that some emigrants
ahead of them had suffered from that dreadful
disease, just as sailors do on the ocean when their
vegetables and fresh provisions give out. So the
boys laid in a supply of dried apples and vinegar,
and traded away some of the stuff of which they
had an excess. Then parts of the wagon had to be
changed for the oxen, as they were now to make
the voyage across the plains with cattle instead of
One bright May morning, they took down their
tent, packed their bedding, loaded the wagon,
yoked up the cattle, and began their long, long
tramp across the continent. Numerous other emi-
grant trains were stretching their way over the
rolling prairies to the westward, and the undulating
road was dotted with the white-covered wagons of
their old neighbors of the canvas settlements by

the Missouri River. Looking behind, they saw,
with a little pang of regret, the well-beaten spot
where they had made their home so long. Around
that place still lingered a few emigrants, who waved
their hats to them by way of cheer, as the long
procession of adventurers wound its way over the
ridges. Beyond and behind them was the flowing
river; the bluffs which give their name to the town
bounded the horizon, and still beyond was the past
life of these young fellows, with all their struggles;
there was home.
Before them lay the heart of the continent with
its mysteries, difficulties, and dangers. They
tramped on right bravely, for beneath the blue
horizon that lured them forward were wealth, fame,
adventure, and-what these bright young spirits
most longed for-opportunities for making their
own way in the world. At any rate, they had
turned their backs on civilization and home.
Their fortitude was tested somewhat severely
during their very first week on the track across
the continent. They expected disagreeable things,
and they found them. They had been traveling
through a rolling country, destitute of timber and
dotted with only a few bunches of brushwood by
the creeks. Barney, Arthur, and Tom took turns
at driving the team. Mont strode on ahead. Hi
and Johnny changed off" with riding Old Jim,
for whose back a saddle had been traded" for at
the Bluffs. The young emigrants were in first-rate
spirits, and when a light rain came up at night,
they laughed blithely over the prospect of soon
getting used to the "hardships" of which they had
been so often warned. It was discouraging work,
however, cooking supper; for, by the time they
had camped, the rain fell in torrents. They got
their camp-stove into the tent, and, by-running out
its one joint of pipe through the open entrance,
they managed to start a fire. More smoke went
into the tent than out of it, for the wind had veered
about and blew directly into it. Then they decided
to strike the tent and change it around so as to face
to the leeward. This was a difficult job to do while
the rain fell and wind blew. But the boys packed
their camp stuff together as well as they could, and
took down the tent.
Hold on tight, boys !" shouted Barnard, cheer-
ily, for the canvas was flapping wildly in the wind,
and threatened to fly away before it could be
secured. Arty held up one pole and Barnard the
other, while Mont, Hi, and Tom ran around to
pin the canvas to the earth, Johnny following with
the bag of tent-pins. Just then a tremendous gust
came, and away flew the tent like a huge balloon,
jerking Tom head over heels as it went. Poor
little Johnny clung to it desperately, having caught
hold of one of the ropes as it went whirling over




his head. He was dragged a short distance and gave
it up, his hands being cut and torn by the line.
"Stop her! stop her!" yelled Hi, and away
they all ran after the flying canvas. The cattle
were cowering under the lee of a few bushes across
the road, and the apparition of the collapsed tent
coming over their heads, startled them so that they
ran wildly in all directions. The cow was caught
by the horns, a fold of the tent-cloth having been
entangled on them, and she set off, frantically bel-
lowing, across the prairie. The canvas by this

"We can get a good fire in the stove," said
Mont, sagaciously, "and keep moving it about
until we dry the worst of it; and, when it stops
raining, it will drain off a great deal. But it does
not look much like holding up," he added, as he
looked out at the sheets of rain. And if it don't
hold up, we may as well not go to bed at all."
Indeed, the prospect was rather gloomy, and the
young emigrants began to think themselves early
introduced to the disagreeable part of their trip.
Ihey managed to keep up a roaring fire in their

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time was so wet and heavy that it could not be
dragged far, and, when the boys came up, poor
Molly was a prisoner. They rescued their fugitive
house, and, in sorry plight, took it back to where
their camp was now exposed to a pelting rain.
"Aint this fun, Arty ? said Hi, grimly, whel
they were once more under cover.
"Fun alive replied Arty; and so long as we
have a roof over us for the night, we are in great
luck. But how we are ever to get supper is more
than I know."
Supper retorted Barnard. I 'd like to
know where we are going to sleep to-night. Every
inch of ground is sopping wet, and no fire that we
can build will dry it."

camp-stove, however, and the air in the tent was
dry and warm. They made tea, and fried their
meat, and, with dry crackers, secured a tolerable
meal. By midnight the rain abated and ceased
flowing under the canvas. They then lay down
on the damp blankets, and slept as best they might.
Toward morning Arty awoke, and, hearing the rain
on the canvas roof, reached out his hand and found
the ground near by covered with water. Water
was everywhere around him. He lay in a puddle
which had accumulated under him. At first, he
thought he would turn over and find a dry spot.
But he immediately discovered that that would not
be a good plan. He had warmed the water next
him with the natural heat of his body. To turn




over was to find a colder place. So he kept still
and slept again as soundly as if he were not lying
in a small pond.
They were wakened after sunrise by the sound
of wagons driving by. Jumping up from their
damp beds, the young emigrants found themselves
somewhat bedraggled and unkempt. But the rain
had ceased, the sun was shining brightly, and what
discomfort can long withstand the influence of a
fair day, sunshine, and a warm wind?
The cattle, fastened up the night before to the
wagon-wheels, were lowing for freedom; and the
boys were at once ready to begin preparations for
another day's journey. They spread their bedding
and spare clothing in the sunshine, brought out
their camp-stove, built a fire, and had a jolly break-
fast with hot biscuits and some of the little luxuries
of camp fare.
All that day the boys traveled with their blankets
spread over the wagon-top, in order to dry them in
the hot sun; but not one of the party complained
of the discomforts of the previous night, nor
showed any sign of being any worse for sleeping
in the rain.
It gets me, Mont," said Hi Fender, that a
city feller, like you, should put up with such an
uncommon hard night without growling."
Oh, that's nothing when you get used to it,"
said Mont, lightly.
But you are getting used to it sooner than I
am," replied Barnard, with admiration for the
young city fellow's pluck.
There aint much such accommodations in Bos-
ton, I allow ?" said Hi. No sleeping' out in canvas
tents, with the water creeping under your blankets,
in that ;ii .:. is there?"
Well, no; but we cannot bring city ways out
on the plains, you know, Hi; and as long as we
have a canvas roof over us, we ought to be satisfied
and thankful. By the way, I wonder how those
Pike County fellows got on last night. They intend
to sleep in their wagon when they have reduced
their load, but they sleep on the ground now.
Must have found it a little damp last night."
Barnard thought that Bush, with his heifer and
go-cart, would be worse off than anybody they
knew. Bush was a jolly emigrant, traveling all
alone with a hand-cart fixed up with shafts, into
which was harnessed a young cow. He had quar-
reled with his partner at Council Bluffs, and had
gone off in a fit of disgust. His entire worldly
wealth was packed into the little cart, with one or
two sacks of flour, some "side-meat," beans, and
coffee. His cooking apparatus consisted of a frying-
pan and a tin pot, in which latter useful utensil he
made his coffee and cooked everything that could
not be cooked in his frying-pan.

I don't believe Bush put in much time sing-
ing last night," said Tom. If his fiddle was n't
drowned out, he was, I'll just bet."
There he is now said Arty, and as he spoke
they saw Bush's tall form stalking beside his queer
little team, and rising over a swell of the prairie,
just ahead.
At camping-time that night they overtook Bush,
who was as gay and light-spirited as ever. He
hailed the boys with heartiness and begged the
privilege of baking a cake of dough in their camp-
The fact is, boys," he explained, "me and
Sukey had a rough time of it last night, and I
guess a hot corn-dodger will help us both mightily.
Hey, Suke !" he said lovingly, for Bush and his
vicious little cow were on very good terms.
Rain ?" he said in answer to the boys' inquiries.
"Rain? Oh, no, I guess not. It didn't rain at
all worth mentioning. It jest came down on the
run. Well, it did. I crawled under the go-cart,
where the water wa' n't more than a foot deep. It
was n't dry quarters; but I could have got along
as gay as you please only for my legs. They 're so
all-fired lengthy that they stuck out and got wet.
When I pulled 'em in, my head stuck out, and
when I pulled my head in agin, my legs stuck out.
Pity about them legs, aint it, boys ?" he added,
looking down at his canvas-covered limbs. How-
somever, I thought of you chaps. I'm used to it,
but you Boston fellers aint seasoned yet. I was
camping by myself over behind the divide, to keep
out of the wet, and when I saw your tent get up
and dust, I started to lend you a hand. But you
corraled the pesky thing before I could get to you."
"Much obleeged, I'm sure," said Hi. "But
we caught her on the critter's head afore she went
"Yes, yes, a tent's a mighty onhandy thing, I
do believe. Good enough for them that can't get
along without it; but, as for me, as the revolu-
tionary feller said, gimme liberty or gimme death.
I'd rather sleep out o' doors."
"Queer feller, that Bush," said Hi, when they
were squatted about their camp-table at supper-
time. He's tough as sole-leather and chipper 'n
a cricket. And he allows to go clean through to
Californy with that 'ere go-cart and heifer. Why
the Mormons'will steal him, his cow and his cart.
and all, if he ever gets so far as Salt Lake."
They'll be smart, then, for he sleeps with both
eyes open," said Barnard, who admired Bush very
They were camped in a low, flat bottom, by the
river Platte. Tall cotton-woods fringed the river-
bank, on the north side of which the emigrant road
then ran. Here were wood, water, and grass in




plenty; and at this generous camping-ground
many emigrants pitched their tents for the night.
After supper was over, the boys strolled out among
the camps and enjoyed the novel sight. The emi-
grants had now got into the ways of the plains,
-were doing their own cooking and washing,
had put on their roughest manners and roughest
clothes, and were already beginning to talk about
the Indians. The Cheyennes, it was said, were
very troublesome just beyond Fort Laramie; and
it was reported that one party of emigrants had
been attacked near the Point of Rocks and all
hands killed.
At one camp-fire where our boys lingered, Bush
was the center of a large party, to whom he was
singing his one great song, "Lather and Shave."
It was a famous song of many verses-ninety-nine,
Bush said; but he never had time to sing them all,
though often invited to give them. His violin had,
so far, survived all misadventures and furnished
lively music for the company. One handsome
young fellow, with a tremendous voice, sang a ditty
about emigrating to the gold mines, of which the
refrain was :
"Ho ho and away we go,
Digging up the gold on the Sacramento!"
All the by-standers and loungers joined in this
chorus with spirit and emphasis, the last syllable of
Sacramento being shot out with a will-" Toe "
At another camp, they found a forlorn little
woman dandling a child on her knee, sitting on a
wagon-tongue, while her husband' was trying to
get supper under her directions. The fire would
not burn, the man was awkward, and his patience
seemed clean gone as he finally squatted back on
the ground and caught his breath, after blowing at
the fire until he was red in the face.
Yes, we 've had a powerful bad streak o'
luck," he complained. "First, she took sick at
the Bluffs," he said, jerking his head toward the
woman on the wagon-tongue. That kep' us there
nigh onto a month; and my pard, he got out of
patience and lit out and left us. Then the young
one up and had the cholery yesterday, and we
broke down in that thar slew just beyond Papes's,
and we had to double up teams twicet that day.
And now then this 'ere blamed fire wont burn, and
we be agoin' to Californy. We be," he added,
with great sarcasm. I never could build a fire;
hit's woman's work, hit is! Oh, look at yer,
smolderin' and smudgin' thar he continued, ad-
dressing the -,ii., fire. With a sudden burst of
rage, he kicked the smoking embers to the right
and left with his heavy boot, and said, "Blarst
Californy "
"Here, let me try," said Tom. I'm right
smart at fire-bildin';" and the boy gathered the

half-charred embers together, and deftly fanned a
flame from them by wafting his hat before the
coals, into which he poked some dry stems and
grass. The fire recovered itself cheerily, and the
man looked down on Tom's stooping figure with a
sort of unwilling admiration. Arthur did not like
the looks of a husband who seemed so indifferent
to his wife and baby.
Here, give me the baby," said he; I'll tend
it while you get your supper. And, Mister, you
had better look after your cattle. I see they've
got all snarled up with that ox-chain."
Drat the cattle said the man; and he went
off to swear at the poor beasts which had managed
to turn their yokes and worry themselves generally
into a tangle, while waiting for their master to take
care of them for the night.
Don't mind him," sighed the woman, relin-
quishing the sick baby to his volunteer nurse.
" Don't mind him. He 's got a right smart of a
temper, and he do get contrairywise when things
goes contrairywise, and the good Lord knows they
have gone contrairywise ever since we left the
States. Now trot the young one easy-like, if he
hollers, and I '11 just rattle up some supper for my
ole man."
Arty held the baby as tenderly as he could, softly
moving up and down on his knee the unpleasant-
looking feather pillow on which it was laid. A tall
young girl came around from behind the wagon;
looked at the ,.-.;_- i i' wife, who was kneading
biscuit, kneeling on the ground; looked at Arthur,
who was crooning a little song to the sick baby;
and then she remarked: Goodness, gracious me "
Nance said Arthur, looking up.
"Yes, it's Nance," retorted the tall young girl,
with some asperity. Leastways, I 'm called sich
by folks that have n't got no more manners than
they have room for."
Beg pardon, Miss Nancy. But you surprised
me so, you know."
I suppose you don't allow I'm surprised. Oh,
no, not the leastest bit. You a-tending baby out
here on the perarie Howsomever, I like it, I like
it! I declare to gracious, I do !" she added in a
milder tone. "It's just what boys are fit for.
Hope you've learned to make bread by this time.
Scalded their flour, the ornery critters Oh, my "
and, overcome by the recollection of that first great
experiment of the boys when in Iowa, the tall
young girl sat down on the wagon-tongue and
doubled herself up again.
"Never mind," she said, disengaging herself
from her laugh. If you'll come over to our camp,
I '11 give you some yeast-real hop-yeast; brought
it all the way from loway myself. It's good enough
to bust the cover of your camp-kettle off."




Your camp Are you going to California ? "
asked Arthur, with surprise.
Goin' to Californy Of course we be. What
else do you suppose we'd be campin' out here on
the Platte, miles and miles away from home, fbr?"
But how did you pass us ?"
Could n't say. Dad, he allowed he would n't
stop at the Bluffs more 'n one day. Oh, he's got
the gold fever just awful "
Was he thinking of going to California when
we passed your place in Iowa ? "
Could n't say. He seen the folks piling by on
the emigrant road, bound to the gold mines. He
used to set on the fence and swap lies with 'em by
the hour, and ma just hollerin' at him from the
back-door all the while. Oh, my! was n't she
mad, though "
Did n't she want to come ?"
Not at first'; but she got to talking with some
of the women-folks on the road, and then she and
dad talked gold night and day. They jest got wild.
So one day, dad, he let the place, picked up his
traps, bundled us into the wagon, and here we be."
"How do you find it, as far as you've got?"
asked Tom, who by this time had become very
much interested in Nance's story.
Pretty tolerable-like. How's herself?"
"Oh, it's pretty good fun, all but washing
dishes," replied Tom, bashfully.

Washin' dishes retorted the girl, with great
scorn. "And you call yer handful of tin plates
and things washin' dishes. Don't I wish you had
to do up the dishes I had at home in Ioway Oh,
it's real persimmons, this,-just nothing to do.
Barefooted, you see," and Nance put out a brown
foot, to show that she had left Jer shoes with
Where's your other fellers?" she asked,-
"specially that one that scalded his flour ? "
Arthur explained that they were about the camps,
having tarried where Bush was playing his violin
for a stag dance," as it was called, down by the
Well, you come over to our camp to-morrow,
early, and I'll give you some real hop-yeast. It's
worth a hull raft of bakin' powder and self-risers.
We're off at sun-up. So long! And Nance was
Right smart chance of a gal, that," commented
the emigrant, whose anger had cooled, and who
was sitting on an ox-yoke contentedly smoking his
So Miss Sunbonnet is going to California, is
she ?" said Barnard, when the boys related their
interview with that young woman.
"Yes," replied Arthur, remembering Nance's
brown foot; "she's going a-digging up the gold
on the Sacramen-toe i"

(To be continued.)



COME, children, come 1 we must hasten on,
For still it's a long, long way;
A happy long way, ere our journey be done-
We are journeying through the day.

Think I here is another day begun,
So close on the one that's gone;
And to-morrow will be another one,
As soon as the east can dawn.

The day what- a wonderful thing it is-
So full of love and delight,
From the time of the mother's morning-kiss
Till the kiss that comes with Good-night !"

And it leads from the east, and goes to the west,
And follow it we will;
Though, whether we work, or whether we rest,
We stay in the same place still.

For here it begins, and here it ends,
All on the sun's highway;
We need not part from home and friends,
To journey through the day.







PART II. Thus we have another difference between the
You remember that in our last paper we noticed two great divisions of plants. Let us see if we can-
some of the differences between plants having their not discover still another. Take a portion of your
origin in two-lobed seeds and those growing from corn-stalk and split it lengthwise; you find that it
undivided seeds. But there are other differences is stringy or fibrous. Examine a piece of wood in
just as great, and as strongly marked. -If you ex- the same way, and you will see that it is solid. Now
amine a twig from any ordinary tree, you will find take a cross-slice from the corn, and another from
that the outside covering may be easily removed, one of the branches, and let us compare them. In
and seems to be quite distinct from the wood. I the corn you find nothing but the skin-covering,
need not tell you that this covering is called bark; and the ends of the fibers, like little specks, scat-
and you know, too, that the trees that grow in tered through a spongy substance called cellular
your neighborhood are all provided with this outer tissue (see Fig. 2, next page) ; while in the other
coat. slice (Fig. I) you see first the bark, then one or more
But examine a piece of straw. You would not layers of solid wood; and in the middle you find
think for a moment of calling its covering bark; the heart-wood or pith, so that the slice presents
it is much more like a very thin skin or coating of the appearance of a number of rings arranged
varnish, around the center. By counting these rings in
Now, if there are leaves on the various stems trees which have been cut down, you may judge
which we are examining, you will find that those of the number of years which have elapsed since
which- are parallel-veined all belong to the stems they first showed themselves above ground, for the
which have no bark, while the net-veined leaves tree adds a new ring or layer to its growth every
are attached to the bark-covered branches. year. Such plants are called exogenous," or



outward-growing plants, because the new layer is
formed just within the bark, and outside those of
previous years. The fibrous plants grow by addi-
tions to their inward surface, thus pushing the


/ -
J iY.. :"'- 1 '

older parts outside. This class is entitled endo-
genous," which means inward-growing.
Did you ever think that the plants not only grow
but live? A very different life from ours, to be
sure, yet resembling it in some points, and in none
more than' in the necessity for food. This food
consists of earthy matter, gases and moisture, and
these three combined constitute sap. The organs
employed in providing food are tlhe roots and
leaves. The former take in earthy matter and
moisture from the earth, while the latter obtain
moisture and gases from the atmosphere. You
may see this earthy matter, which is the solid part
of the plant, very easily, if you live where wood is
used as fuel. In the. burning, the heat drives into.
the air both gas and moisture, leaving behind only
the earthy matter, which we call ashes.
Tle stem of the plant is composed of minute
cells or cavities, too small to be seen by the naked
eye. These cells may be compared to little boxes,
and you must try to imagine them piled one above
the other, the bottom of one cell forming the
top of the one just below. If you will remember
that these separations are thinner than the sides of
the cells, you will understand how the moisture,
taken up by the rootlets, is forced from the cells
below to those above, traveling thus until it reaches
the leaves.
These too, as I have already said, assist in pro-
viding for the support of the plant. If you examine
a common leaf under the microscope, you will
find that the whole surface, more especially that of
the under part, is covered with small holes, or
breathing pores, which are said to open or close,

as the conditions of the atmosphere prove favorable
or otherwise, to the collection of food-material.
When the moisture and earthy matter, taken up
by the roots, have reached the leaves, they are
mixed with the air and moisture which the leaves
are constantly drawing in; thus mixed it forms sap,
and passing back again through the plant, nourishes
and builds up the parts which require it. If the
supply be greater than the demand, that which is
unused is carried down to the roots, where it mixes
with the new material and passes again to the
leaves. Thus a constant circulation is kept up
during the summer months; but as fall approaches,
the movement becomes slower and slower, until,
when winter has really come, the plant sleeps, like
the dormouse and hedgehog, until gentle showers
and warm sunshine whisper that it is time to wake;
then the sap begins again to flow, the buds expand
and burst, and we know that spring has really
Now we shall have something to say of flowers.
Collect specimens of as many different varieties as
possible, but among them try to have a lily of some
sort, as it is much easier to examine the parts in a-
large flower. In addition to these, we shall require
a knife, a strong pin, and the magnifying glass.
Take a lily, then. What gives it its 'beauty ?
The leaves, of course. Well, these leaves taken
together, just as they are on the flower, are called
the corolla, which means crown; if we speak of a
single leaf, it is called a petal. With your knife
remove the corolla, being careful not to injure the
heart inside. Having cut away the crown, you find
inside a circle of stems (Fig. 3, a, a), surmounted



by oblong tips which are covered with yellow pow-
der or dust. These stems are called stamens, and
consist of two parts; the filament, which is the
stalk, and the anther, the part which holds the.
dust. Remove some of the latter and place it




under the glass, when you will find that it is com-
posed of rounded grains; this dust is called pollen.
Now take a tip and examine it carefully through


F; I

i/ C

the glass, turning it round with the pin; you see
now that it is not a knob, but a little bag of skin,
which seems to have been burst. This bag, or sac,
is called the anther, and its duty is to hold the
pollen until perfectly ripe, when it bursts, covering
itself with the dust.
You have now remaining a greenish stem, at the
end of whichh is a berry-like enlargement; this stem
is called the pistil (Fig. 3, b), and the enlarged
portion is the ovary (Fig. 3. c), which holds the
seeds. If you will, without separating them, cut
the pistil and ovary lengthwise, and put them un-
der the glass, you will be able to see plainly the
seeds neatly packed in the ovary (Fig. 3, d); you
will also observe that the pistil is a hollow tube
leading down to the ovary.
We have now learned the names of the parts in
the flower which we have been examining, but the
lily is not a complete flower; it lacks one part which
you may find in some others of your specimens,
as the rose, pink, morning-glory, &c. We refer
to the green leaves outside of the corolla. This
circle is called the calyx (Fig. 4, a), which means
"flower-cup; though ordinarily green, it is some-
times bright-colored, as in the case of the fuchsia.
We will make a list of the parts, so that you may
memorize them more easily:
I. Calyx. (Fig. 4, a.)
2. Corolla. (Fig. 4, b.)
3. Stamens; filament, anthers, pollen. (Fig. 3,
a, a.)
4. Pistil; ovary, seeds. (Fig. 3, b, c, d.)
A complete flower will present all of these sev-

eral parts, but many are lacking in one or more of
them. Some, as the lily, have no calyx, others
have no corolla-mignonette for instance; in some
species the stamens are found in one flower and the
pistil in another, as in Indian corn. Others, still,
have all the stamen-bearing flowers on one plant,
while another of the same species produces flowers
containing pistils only; of this class the red maple
is given by Prof. Gray as an illustration. There
are also flowers which produce neither stamens nor
pistils, of which the snow-ball will be a familiar ex-
You already know that the seeds (Fig. 3, d), from
the beginning of the flower, are packed away in the
ovary (Fig. 3, c), but these seeds will be perfectly
useless unless a portion of the pollen is allowed to
come in contact with them; by useless we mean,
that if planted they would never grow. But how
is this accomplished ? Touch the pistil, it is sticky;
now, the pollen being very light, is dislodged by
every passing breeze, and some of it is sure to fall
upon the pistil, when it sends down through the
tube a root-like thread, which, touching the seeds,
makes there fertile, in some way which we do not
understand. From this you will learn that the
portions necessary to make the seeds productive
are the stamens and pistils. In flowers which con-
tain both you will observe that, if they are upright
upon their stems, the pistil is apt to be shorter
than the stamens, while if they droop, the reverse
is the case; this is to enable the pollen more readily
to reach the pistil. In cases where the stamens
and pistils are separated, Dame Nature sometimes
employs the wind and sometimes the insects which

IG ,, I L


crawl over the flowers as
her messengers; the pol-
len sticks to their legs and
bodies, and they carry it
very nicely for a short
distance. But for long
journeys the wind is much
better, and cases have
been mentioned of pollen
traveling in this way for
hundreds of miles.
After the pollen has
reached the seeds, time
only is required to enable
them to ripen, so that we
have now completed the
circle: from the seed back

to it again. But do not imagine that you know all
about the subject. If, however, you have learned
enough to prompt you to notice and experiment
for yourselves, your time will not have been wasted.







(With illustration by J. B.)

BY M. S. B.

I WONDER if anybody in this city remembered
that last Wednesday was Snibbuggledyboozledom's
birthday. I guess
nobody thought a
word about it until
the next day, which
was a great pity,
for everybody ought
to have remember-
ed it and turned
out, and shouted
and fired guns, and
made speeches and
processions; and I
would write and tell
you all about what
they did. But as
they did n't cele-
THE BEI~L IN THE FIRE-TOWER. brate the day at all,
I can only write what they did n't do.
In the first place then, we were not waked up be-
fore light by a crowd of three or four hundred boys
shouting and firing guns and fire-crackers and par-
lor-match pistols, and yelling, Hurrah for Abbott,
seven years old! "Three cheers for Jakey, seven
years old Then at sunrise the big bell in the
fire-tower did not strike seven times: "Boo-oong!
boo-oong boo-oong! boo-oong boo-oong boo-
oong! boo-oong! and all the other bells in the
steeples did n't strike in
with a tremendous up-
roar: Ding-dong-ding!
ding-dong-ding! ding-
dong-ding i just as loud
as they ever could n't
sound. What a clatter
they did n't make !
And all the flags in the THE OTHER STEEPLES.
city were not flying all day from sunrise till dark.
And the boys all over the city did n't keep at
work every minute of the day popping off fire-
crackers and torpedoes, and little toy cannon that
would shoot off a shot about as big as this:
and used a nail for a ramrod. Sometimes n -
'they would n't light the crackers and throw them
up in the air, to see them go off before they
came down again; and sometimes they would n't
hold them out in little iron pistols, to look like

shooting; and sometimes they would n't bury them
in the ground, and then touch them off, so as to
throw the dirt up all around like a mine; and
sometimes they would n't put a fire-cracker on a lit-
tle chip (for a boat) and sail it off on the water, and
light the cracker to see it blow up the boat. I tell
you they did n't have a spendid time, and every
boy's father did n't give him ten cents, all for his
own, to buy peanuts or candy, or anything else he
And then in the afternoon there was n't a grand
procession three miles long, with lots of soldiers in
bright-colored uniforms, and brass bands, each one
with a drum-major with a tall bearskin cap and a
gold-headed staff, and Masons with queer little
white aprons, and firemen with their engines and
hose-carts and ladder-trucks, and the mayor and
common council, and three trained monkeys on as
many little ponies, and an elephant and two camels,
and a clumsy rhinoceros with his horn on his nose
S(a very ugly nose too), and'thirteen
ministers in carriages. And they
did n't go through all the streets
and up to the park, and then the
mayor did n't make a grand speech
two hours long, telling how grati-
fied he was n't to assist in the celebration of such
a day, and what an honor he did n't consider it to
the city to be the residence of two such great folks
as himself and Snibbuggledyboozledom.
And then they did n't have a grand display of
fire-works-great rockets that went s-s-s-izz away
up in the air and then sent down lots of red and
purple and green stars, and wheels that spun
around and around with a whiz-z-z and threw off
all manner of beautiful sparks, and Roman can-
dles that burned with sparks and threw up with a
"pop brilliant white and colored balls. And at
the end they did n't send up an enormous fire-bal-
loon, thirty-five feet across, with red and white and
blue stripes up and down it, and "Snibbuggledy-
boozledom, 1875," in large gold letters reaching all
around it. And it did n't sail, sail, sail away, shin-
ing at first like a great big moon, and sailing, sail-
ing, sailing further off till it looked no bigger than
a star, and then sailing, sailing, sailing away till we
could n't see it at all. And I don't believe it ever
came down at all, anywhere. Because, you see,





if it did n't ever go. up, it could n't ever come
down !
And that was the end of the things that did n't
happen on the boy's birthday. Only the next day the
papers did n't have lots of news about it-how one
man did n't have his hat knocked off by a rocket
that went along straight instead of going up in the
air, and fifteen' boys and three girls did n't get their
fingers and faces burned with the fire-crackers and
things, and ten horses were not frightened and

didn't run away, smashing nine wagons and bark-
ing fifteen trees, and five houses were not set on
fire by sparks and crackers, and the usual number
of such mishaps did not take place. And there
were not about fifteen thousand pints of peanuts
sold, and five thousand glasses of soda water, and
a corresponding amount of other good things.
And then (this part did really happen) everybody
went to bed and went to sleep, just as if it had
been any common day.



WE were frozen in, within a bight of the coast in
Camden Bay; to the northward of all our northern
possessions; within the Arctic Circle, where there
is one long winter night for months, unbroken by
a rising sun.
We had lingered too long on that northern shore,
where we had been cruising through the short
summer season for whale-oil to feed the lamps at
Home I Home The full meaning of the word
came to us, as we sat round our own dim-burning
lamps down in our well-protected quarters in the

steerage and talked of the loved ones whom we had
left there. Should we ever return to them? Yes;
every one believed it, and we were still cheerful.
The sun had been long gone, and it was Christ-
mas-time; and because it was Christmas-time we
thought the more of those we had left at home.
Santa Claus, too, and the stockings he used to fill
when we were there, came to our minds; and the
sleigh-rides, the skating, coasting-and the dear girls
who used to be such a help to ns in enjoying it all-
we remembered them you may well believe !-and
we talked of them as well. Every man-of course,




we were all men, though some were a little under
age-told about his own particular girl; and if you
could have heard us, you would have thought each
one had an angel at home, sure! You can't im-
agine how lovely the girls become, so far away!
Just go beyond the Arctic Circle and get frozen in,
and you '1Lknow all about it.
The girls-the dear girls !-we could only talk
about them; but that was some comfort. We were
all resolved to carry home something nice for them,
at least, and to that end we had been "scrimshaw-
ing whalebone ever since the sun had set.
I don't think you will find scrimshawing in the
dictionary, for the word is n't used much on shore.
It means, cutting, etching, scratching, carving-
making all sorts of pretty things out of whalebone.
We had made jagging-knives, and things to keep
the girls straight, and things which we had no
names for, and were still working away on our
whalebone fixins when Christmas came.
I will tell you how we were fixed." The ship
lay not far from the shore, within a bight of the
coast, as I have said, so that there was a semicircle
of snow-covered hills in full view from our decks;
the nearest being hardly more than a mile distant.
Although we had no sun, the moon was with us,
round and full, at Christmas-time, and the snow-
covered hills glistened in its light. We often
walked as far as the hills, and sometimes over them,
to give our limbs the exercise they needed; but as
yet had never found anything very attractive in
that direction.
We suffered less from the cold than you might
suppose. The ship was well provided with all-sorts
of warm clothing, and the captain gave us all the
extra garments we needed, at the ship's expense.
The quarters of the foremast hands had been
changed from the forecastle to the steerage-the
space in which had been sufficiently enlarged to
accommodate them as well as the boat-steerers-
and all, but the officers in the cabin, now lived
there together. The cabin was separated from the
steerage only by a bulkhead.
The cabin contained a stove, in which a fire was
kept always going, giving that apartment a mod-
erate degree of warmth., The galley range had
been lowered into the steerage, where it stood a
little to one side of the hatchway, and having
plenty of fuel, consisting in part of whale-scraps,
a fire was kept constantly going in that also. Be-
sides, the walls of our apartment were lined all
around with sails-of which we had a large supply,
besides those we had unbent from the yards after
the ice had fastened upon us-and all around, out-
side, the ship had been banked with snow, almost
as high as the rail. Indeed, we did not suffer
much with cold; but the moist e accumulated in

our close quarters to such an extent as to cause
some discomfort from that source.
. The few light duties we had to perform occupied
but a small portion of our time, and we were al-
lowed to pass the remainder of it pretty much in
our own way. It was almost worth while to be
frozen in, for one reason at least: we were not obliged
to turn out every four hours to stand a watch on
deck. Still we had regular hours for sleep, and
were called out at an appointed time. We still felt
that we were under our captain's control, though
his authority was much relaxed.
After all, it was not such a very bad thing to be
frozen in, except for its keeping us so much longer
from home, and from all the world besides our-
selves. On the whole, the time passed rather pleas-
antly. Having plenty of whalebone, both white
and black, and tools to work it with-and withal a
turning-lathe-we passed more time in making
fancy articles for home than in any other way.
But as Christmas drew near there was some talk
about a visit from Santa Claus. From certain in-
dications he might reasonably be expected, and it
was even proposed that we should all hang up our
stockings. Several of our number were making
caps, mittens, mufflers, and such things, with which
they were taking unusual pains; more than they
would be likely to if they were going to wear the
articles themselves; and this was what suggested to
us that Santa Claus might possibly come.
Uncle Jim, our oldest man, was inclined to laugh
at the idea, however. He was of the opinion that
Santa Claus would n't come away up there just to
please a few half-frozen whalemen; but if he should
come, he would want something bigger than stock-
ings to put his nick-nacks in. He advised hanging
up our trousers, with the bottoms of the legs tied
together iith rope-yarns.
Most likely," said he, "if he brings anything,
it will be pickles, and old cheese and whisky,"-
Uncle Jim was a dry old chap-" or something of
that sort."
Having no sun, we could only tell by the moon,
and the captain's chronometer, when Christmas
came, but we were ready to usher it in. Every-
body was so wide awake that Santa Claus could
not possibly have got into the steerage without
being seen; and for that reason, as we supposed,
he did not come. But we were as merry, perhaps,
as though he had been there. We rang the fore-
castle bell for an hour, and ran up the stars and
stripes at the mizzen peak, and should have fired a
salute with the two old guns on the quarter-deck,
had they not been so filled with frost that there
was danger of bursting them. While we were
making all the noise we could, the cook, with an-
other man and a boy to help him, began to get our




Christmas dinner; to which we looked forward
with great expectations.
We had running and leaping matches and other
games in the open air, till we were tired of them,
and then we went down again into the steerage,
and; while the dinner was cooking, we had songs,
speeches, and theatricals. Booth was n't there,
but we had Jack Short, probably the best star actor
at that time within the Arctic Circle. Short made
an awful Richard. Taking the first man he could
lay hands on for a horse, he made the rest of us fly
to our bunks for safety; and then we could n't help
laughing to see the black cook's eyes stick out as
he stood behind his coppers stabbing at Short with
his longest beef-fork to keep him off.
In the midst of our fun, a strange voice hailed
from on deck, and we all tumbled up to see who
was there and what was the matter.
Behold! there stood Santa Claus himself! It
could be no other; it was just like the pictures we
had all seen of him, and every one recognized him
at once. He spoke to Short, whom he seemed to
recognize as our leading man, in a voice that was
thick with frost.
I 'm a little late," said he; "but I was sure of
getting here before 'sunrise, anyhow, so I thought
I 'd attend to all the others first. Mighty hard
driving up this way. Broke a trace, crossing Win-
nipeg, and had to stop to mend it. Upset all my
traps, too, coming down the Saddle-Back Mount-
ains. But I 'm here at last, all right, and if you've
got any oats I'd like to give my team a feed before
I begin to unload."
Have n't got an oat," says Short ; "but where's
your team? Trot it up."
The heads of the team were visible, and the next
moment four curious-looking animals came up the
inclined snow-plane to the open gangway, drawing
a sledge (which looked very much like the one we
had built to use about the ship), and leaped upon
'deck. The sledge was loaded with packages and
bundles, all labeled, but the team was what at first
most interested us.
Those animals were not reindeer, nor dogs-un-
less they were a new species that we had not yet
heard of. They had only two legs, and they wore
boots. But their bodies and heads were covered
with fur, and something that looked like raveled-
out stocking yarn. Their heads looked somewhat
like dogs' heads; but as none of them had their
tongues out, we suspected they were not dogs at
all. In some respects, especially in height, they
resembled our four boat-steerers; and when we re-
membered that we had not seen the boat-steerers
below for an hour or more, we thought it just pos-
sible that they might have been transformed into
these strange animals.

The captain, and the others who lived in the
cabin-all but the mate-came up to look at Santa
Claus and his team. As for the sledge, we all felt
sure we had seen it before; but we were not going
to accuse Santa Claus of deception, or with steal-
ing, to begin with. Evidently he had brought us
presents, and we ought to be satisfied.
No oats 1 exclaimed he as if astonished, when
his team stood stamping and shaking themselves
on deck. "What have you been living on all
winter ? "
"Nothing to brag of, as yet," said Short.
"We've been eating odds and ends, mostly. The
doctor's got some good beef in his coppers to-day,
though, and if your hounds are hungry enough to
eat that, they can have some."
Hungry Have n't stopped to eat nor drink,
till now, since we left Kamtchatka, almost twenty-
four hours ago! Been clear round, you know.
Guess they 'l1 pick your beef-bones if you give 'em
a chance And that reminds me, I 've got a few
fixin's here that wont go bad with your Christmas
dinner, and I guess I may as well give 'em to ye
right away." And at once Santa Claus began to
The packages he drew out first were labeled, in
very bold letters, For General Distribution."
There was a keg of molasses, two whole hams,
frozen pickles, condensed milk, a package of cheese
(very old cheese, that had been packed in brandy,
or something else that was strong enough to keep
it), pilot bread (a better quality of bread than we
got every day), a quantity of preserved bananas,
somewhat resembling figs, a box of mustard, vin-
egar, pickled potatoes, and a bag of dried apples.
All these Santa Claus unloaded, while we crowded
around him, and then came articles of clothing,
each bearing in large letters the name of one of
the crew. A pair of boots for one, a flannel shirt
for another, a Guernsey frock for a third, and so
on. Every man of us got something to cheer his
heart and show that he was not forgotten. Old
Santa seemed to know us all, and handed to each
his particular package, accompanying it with some
appropriate remark.
We could not but admire the old fellow while he
was doing this, but when it appeared that he had
brought us letters from home, our enthusiasm al-
most upset him. From out a deep pocket he drew
letter after letter, and, slowly reading the super-
scription, handed it to the one to whom it belonged.
To every one, even the cook, he brought a letter.
But it was too cold to read the letters on deck,
and we at once transferred all our presents to the
steerage. Then we invited old Santa and his team
to go down with us and hear the news and get some
dinner. But the dinner would not be ready for




an hour, and the old fellow thought he could n't
wait. He had only an empty sledge now, he said,
and his spaniels would take him home in a jiffy.
Most likely his wife would have dinner waiting.
So he cracked his long whip, and away they went,
round the stern of the ship; and we all rushed
Then such a time as we had-I can hardly tell!
Of course, we read our letters first; but, after all, it
was evident they had not been written by those
from whom we most wished to hear. Yet there

Z.- -- "--


.. T. . ..
-i:--- ---_, o-- ------ ----- -- .=

______________ I i
____~ r; ~ 2";

taken Holland again. Uncle Seth had shingled his
barn. They were talking of putting a new light-
ning-rod on the meeting-house. Ann Eliza had
sprained her ankle running after grasshoppers.
Sarah Jane had lost her waterfall, and all the other
girls were going to give up waterfalls because she
could n't find it again. Such as these were the
items of news we got; and though, after all, there
was not a word that could be depended upon about
the dear ones at home, the letters helped to make
our Christmas merry. By the time they were read,





was news in them, such as it was. For instance,
Sam Miller learned that Eliza, the girl he used to
talk about, had got three new beaux since he left
home, and was in an "awful pucker because she
did n't know which she liked best.
Another of the girls whom we had heard about
was married, and had moved to Kansas; and an-
other had started alone and on foot for the North
Pole to look for her sailor-man, and had not been
heard from since. But this was not half:
Grandmother Goose was dead. The Dutch had

our dinner was ready; and I venture to say that
never was there a more generous Christmas dinner
served up so near the North Pole, or a jollier crew
there to partake of it.
I will add, that we got out of the ice at last, and
after a little more whaling returned to the Sandwich
Islands with a full ship. Our next Christmas was
passed at Bahia, only a few degrees south, of the .
Equator, in Brazil, beneath a blazing sun, in the
midst of tropic scenery, and surrounded with nearly
every kind of tropical production.






MARJORIE sat on the door-step shelling peas,
quite unconscious what a pretty picture she made
with the roses peeping at her through the lattice-
work of the porch, the wind playing hide-and-seek
in her curly hair, while the sunshine with its silent
magic changed her faded gingham to a golden
gown, and shimmered on the bright tin pan as if it
were a silver shield. Old Rover lay at her feet, the
white kitten purred on her shoulder, and friendly
robins hopped about her in the' grass, chirping
"A happy birthday, Marjorie "
But the little maid neither saw nor heard, for her
eyes were fixed on the green pods, and her thoughts
were far away. She was recalling the fairy-tale
granny told her last night, and wishing with all her
heart that such things happened nowadays. For
in this story, as a poor girl like herself sat spinning
before the door, a Brownie came by, and gave the
child a good-luck penny; then a fairy passed, and
left a talisman which would keep her always happy;
and last of all, the prince rolled up in his chariot,
and took her away to reign with him over a lovely
kingdom, as a reward for her many kindnesses to
When Marjorie imagined this part of the story,
it was impossible to help giving one little sigh,
and for a minute she forgot her work, so busy was
she thinking what beautiful presents she .would
give to all the poor children in her realm when they
had birthdays. Five impatient young peas took
this opportunity to escape from the half-open pod
in her hand and skip down the steps, to be imme-
diately gobbled up by an audacious robin, who gave
thanks in such a shrill chirp that Marjorie woke
up, laughed, and fell to work again. She was just
finishing, when a voice called out from the lane:
Hi, there come here a minute, child and
looking up, she saw a little old man in a queer little
carriage drawn by a fat little pony.
Running down to the gate, Marjorie dropped a
curtsey, saying pleasantly:
"What did you wish, sir ? "
Just undo that check-rein for me. I am lame,
and Jack wants to drink at your brook," answered
the old man, nodding at her till his spectacles
danced on his nose.
Marjorie was rather afraid of the fat pony, who
tossed his head, whisked his tail, and stamped his
feet as if he was of a peppery temper. But she
liked to be useful, and just then felt as if there
were few things she could not do if she tried, be-

cause it was her birthday. So she proudly let
down the rein, and when Jack went splashing into
the brook, she stood on the bridge waiting to
check him up again after he had drank his fill of
the clear, cool water.
SThe old gentleman sat in his place looking up at
the little girl, who was smiling to herself as she
watched the blue dragon-flies dance among the
ferns, a blackbird tilt on the alder-boughs, and
listened to the babble of the brook.
How old are you, child ? asked the old man,
as if he rather envied the rosy creature her outh
and health.
Twelve to-day, sir; and Marjorie stood up
straight and tall, as if mindful of her years.
Had any presents ? asked the old man, peer-
ing up with an odd smile.
One, sir-here it is; and she pulled out of
her pocket a tin savings bank in the shape of a
desirable family mansion painted red, with a green
door and black chimney. Proudly displaying it on
the rude railing of the bridge, she added, with a
happy face:
Granny gave it to mie, and all the money in it
is going to be mine."
How much have you got asked the old gen-
tleman, who appeared to like to sit there in the
middle of the brook, while Jack bathed his feet
and leisurely gurgled and sneezed.
"Not a penny yet, but I'm going: to earn
some," answered Marjorie, patting the little bank
with an air of resolution pretty to see.
How will you do it?" continued the inquisitive
old man.
Oh, I 'm going to pick berries and dig dande-
lions, and weed, and drive cows, and do chores. It
is vacation, and I can work all the time, and earn
ever so much."
But vacation is play-time-how about that? "
Why, that sort of work is play, and I get bits
of fun all along. I always have a good swing when
I go for the cows, and pick flowers with the dande-
lions. Weeding is n't so nice, but berrying is very
pleasant, and we have good times all together."
What shall you do with your money when you
get it ? "
Oh, lots of things Buy books and clothes
for school, and if I get a great deal, give some to
granny. I 'd love to do that, for she takes care of
me, and I 'd be so proud to help her "
Good little lass said the old gentleman, as




he put his hand in his pocket. Would you white bird skimmed by so low, she could ndt help
now ? he added, apparently addressing himself to seeing it. A pleasant laugh sounded behind her
a large frog who sat upon a stone looking so wise as she started up, and looking round, she nearly
and grandfatherly, that it really did seem quite sat down again in sheer surprise, for there close by
proper to consult him. At all events, he gave his was a slender little lady, comfortably established
opinion in the most decided manner, for, with a under a big umbrella.
loud croak, he turned an undignified somersault If there were any fairies, I 'd be sure that was
into the brook, splashing up the water at a great one," thought Marjorie, staring with all her might,
rate. Well, perhaps it would n't be best on the for her mind was still full of the old story; and cu-
whole. Industry is a good teacher, and money rious things do happen on birthdays, as every one
cannot buy happiness, as I know to my sorrow." knows.
The old gentleman still seemed to be talking to It really did seem rather elfish to look up sud-
the frog, and as he spoke he took his hand out denly and see a lovely lady all in white, with shin-
of his pocket with less in it than he had at first ing hair and a wand in her hand, sitting under what
intended. looked very like a large yellow mushroom in the
What a very queer person thought Marjo- middle of a meadow, where, till now, nothing but
rie, for she had not heard a word, and wondered cows and grasshoppers had been seen. Before
what he was thinking about down there. Marjorie could decide the question, the pleasant
Jack walked out of the brook just then, and she laugh came again, and the stranger said, pointing
ran to check him up; not an easy task for little to the white thing that was still fluttering over the
hands, as he preferred to nibble the grass on the grass like a little cloud:
bank. But she did it cleverly, smoothed the ruffled Would you kindly catch my hat for me, before
mane, and, dropping another curtsey, stood aside it blows quite away ? "
to let the little carriage pass. Down went basket and knife, and away ran Mar-
Thank you, child-thank you. Here is some- jorie, entirely satisfied now that there was no magic
thing for your bank, and good luck to it." about the new-comer; for if she had been an elf,
As he spoke, the old man laid a bright gold dol- could n't she have got her hat without any help
lar in her hand, patted the rosy cheek, and vanished from a mortal child? Presently, however, it did
in a cloud of dust, leaving Marjorie so astonished begin to seem as if that hat was bewitched, for it
at the grandeur of the gift, that she stood looking led the nimble-footed Marjorie such a chase that
at it as if it had been a fortune. It was to her, the cows stopped feeding to look on in placid won-
and visions of pink calico gowns, new grammars, der; the grasshoppers vainly tried to keep up, and
and fresh hat-ribbons danced through her head in every ox-eyed daisy did its best to catch the run-
delightful confusion, as her eyes rested on the shin- away, but failed entirely, for the wind liked a game
ing coin in her palm. of romps, and had it that day. As she ran, Mar-
Then, with a solemn air, she invested her first, jorie heard the lady singing like the princess in
money by popping it down the chimney of the the story of.the Goose-Girl:
scarlet mansion, and peeping in with one eye to "Blow, breezes, blow!
see if it landed safely on the ground-floor. This Let Curdkin's hat go!
done, she took a long breath, and looked over the Blow, breezes, blow,
Let him after it go!
railing, to be sure it was not all a dream. No, the O'er hills, dales and rocks,
wheel-marks were still there, the brown water was Away be it whirled,
not yet clear, and if a witness was needed, there Till the silvery locks
Are all combed and curled."
sat the big frog again, looking so like the old gen-
tleman, with his bottle-green coat, speckled trou- This made her laugh so, that she tumbled into a
sers, and twinkling eyes, that Marjorie burst out clover-bed, and lay there a minute to get her
laughing, and clapped her hands; saying aloud: breath. Just then, as if the playful wind repented
I '11 play he was the Brownie, and this is the of its frolic, the long veil fastened to the hat caught
good-luck penny he gave me. Oh, what fun in a blackberry-vine near by, and held the truant
and away she skipped, rattling the dear new bank fast till Marjorie secured it.
like a castanet. Now come and see what I am doing," said the
When she had told granny all about it, she got lady, when she had thanked the child.
knife and basket, and went out to dig dandelions; Marjorie drew near confidingly, and looked down
for the desire to increase her fortune was so strong, at the wide-spread book before her. She gave a
she could not rest a minute. Up and down she start, and laughed out with surprise and delight;
went, so busily peering and digging, that she never for there was a lovely picture of her own little
lifted up her eyes till something like a great home and her own little self on the door-step, all





so delicate, and beautiful, and true, it seemed as
if done-by magic.
Oh, how pretty There is Rover, and Kitty,
and the robins, and me How could you ever
do it, ma'am ? said Marjorie, with a wondering
glance at the long paint-brush, which had wrought
what seemed a miracle to her childish eyes.
I'11 show you presently; but tell me, first, if
it looks quite right and natural to you. Children
sometimes spy out faults that no one else can see,"
answered the lady, evidently pleased with the art-
less praise her work received.
It looks just like our house, only more beauti-
ful. Perhaps that is because I know how shabby
it really is. That moss looks lovely on the shin-
gles, but the roof leaks. The porch is broken,
only the roses hide the place; and my gown is all
faded, though it once was as bright as you have
made it. I wish the house and everything would
stay pretty forever as they will in the picture."
While Marjorie spoke, the lady had been adding
more color to the sketch, and when she looked
up, something warmer and brighter than sunshine
shone in her face, as she said, so cheerily, it was
like a bird's song to hear her :
It can't be summer always, dear, but we can
make fair weather for ourselves if we try. The
moss, the roses, and soft shadows show the little
house and the little girl at their best, and that is
what we all should do; for it is amazing how lovely
common things become, if one only knows how to
look at them."
"I wish I did," said Marjorie, half to herself,
remembering how often she was discontented, and
how hard it was to get on, sometimes.
So do I," said the lady, in her happy voice.
"Just believe that there is a sunny side to every-
thing, and try to find it, and you will be surprised
to see how bright the world will seem, and how
cheerful you will be able to keep your little self."
"I guess granny has found that out, for she
never frets. I' do, but I 'm going to stop. it, be-
cause I 'm twelve to-day, and that is too old for
such things," said Marjorie, recollecting the good
resolutions she had made that morning when she
," I am twice twelve, and not entirely cured yet;
but I try, and don't mean to wear blue spectacles
if I can help it," answered the lady, laughing so
blithely that Marjorie was sure she would not have
to try much longer. Birthdays were made for
presents, and I should like to give you one.
Would it please you to have this little picture ? "
she added, lifting it out of the book.
"Truly my own? Oh, yes, indeed! cried
Marjorie, coloring with pleasure, for she had never
owned so beautiful a thing before.

Then you shall have it, dear. Hang it where
you can see it often, and when you look, remember
that it is the sunny side of home, and help to keep
it so."
Marjorie had nothing but a kiss to offer by way
of thanks, as the lovely sketch was put into her
hand; but the giver seemed quite satisfied, for it
was a very grateful little kiss. Then the child took
up her basket and went away, not dancing and
singing now, but slowly and silently; for this gift
made her thoughtful as well as glad. As she
climbed the wall, she looked back to nod good-
bye to the pretty lady; but the meadow was emp-
ty, and all she saw was the grass blowing in the
Now, deary, run out and play, for birthdays
come but once a year, and we must make them as
merry as we can," said granny, as she settled her-
self for her afternoon nap, when the Saturday
cleaning was all done, and the little house as neat
as wax.
So Marjorie put on a white apron in honor of
the occasion, and, taking kitty in her arms, went
out to enjoy herself. Three swings on the gate
seemed to be a good way of beginning the festivi-
ties; but she only got two, for when the gate
creaked back the second time, it stayed shut, and
Marjorie hung over the pickets, arrested by the
sound of music.
It's soldiers," she said, as the fife and drum
drew nearer, and flags were seen waving over the
barberry-bushes at the corner.
"No, it's a picnic," she added in a moment;
for she saw hats with wreaths about them bobbing
up and down, as a gayly trimmed hay-cart full of
children came rumbling down the lane.
What a nice time they are going to have! "
thought Marjorie, sadly contrasting that merry-
making with the quiet party she was having all by
Suddenly her face shone, and kitty was waved
over her head like a banner, as she flew out of the
gate, crying rapturously:
It's Billy and I know he 's come for me "
It certainly was Billy, proudly driving the old
horse, and beaming at his little friend from the
bower of flags and chestnut-boughs, where he sat
in state, with a crown of daisies on his sailor-hat
and a spray of blooming sweetbrier in his hand.
Waving his rustic scepter, he led off the shout of
Happy birthday, Marjorie which was set up
as the wagon stopped at the gate, and the green
boughs suddenly blossomed with familiar faces, all
smiling on the little damsel, who stood in the lane
quite overpowered with delight.
It's a s'prise party cried one small lad,
tumbling out behind.



We are going up the mountain to have fun King William, who stood below with his royal nose
added a chorus of voices, as a dozen hands beck- on a level with her majesty's two dusty little shoes.
oned wildly. Oh; Billy, it has been just splendid But I
We got it up on purpose for you, so tie your don't see why you should all be so kind to me,"
hat and come away," said a pretty girl, leaning answered Marjorie, with such a look of innocent
down to kiss Marjorie, who had dropped kitty, and wonder, that Billy laughed to see it.
stood ready for any splendid enterprise. Because you are so sweet and good, we can't
A word to granny, and away went the happy help loving you-that's why," he said, as if this
child, sitting up beside Billy, under the flags that simple fact was reason enough.
waved over a happier load than any royal chariot I'm going to be the best girl that ever was,
ever bore. and love everybody in the world," cried the child,
It would be vain to try and tell all the plays and stretching out her arms as if ready, in the fullness
pleasures of happy children on a Saturday after- of her happy heart, to embrace all creation.
noon, but we may briefly say that Marjorie found "Don't turn into an angel and fly away just yet,
a mossy stone all ready for her throne, and Billy but come home, or granny will never lend you to
crowned her with a garland like his own. That a us any more."
fine banquet was spread and eaten with a relish With that, Billy jumped her down, and away
many a Lord Mayor's feast has lacked. Then how they ran, to ride gayly back through the twilight,
the whole court danced and played together after- singing like a flock of nightingales.
ward! The lords climbed trees and turned somer- As she went to bed that night, Marjorie looked
saults, the ladies gathered flowers and told secrets at the red bank, the pretty picture, and the daisy
under the sweetfern-bushes, the queen lost her crown, saying to herself:
shoe jumping over the waterfall, and the king It has been a very nice birthday, and I am some-
paddled into the pool below and rescued it. A thing like the girl in the story, after all, for the
happy little kingdom, full of summer sunshine, old man gave me a good-luck peany, the kind
innocent delights and loyal hearts; for love ruled, lady told me how to keep happy,,and Billy came
and the only war that disturbed the peaceful land for me like the prince. The girl did n't go back
was waged by the mosquitoes as night came on. to the poor house again, but I'm glad I did, for
Marjorie stood on her throne watching the sun- my granny is n't a cross one, and my little home
set while her maids of honor packed up the remains is the dearest in the world."
of the banquet, and her knights prepared the char- Then she tied her night-cap, said her prayers,
iot. All the sky was gold and purple, all the and fell asleep; but the moon, looking in to kiss
world bathed in a soft, red light, and the little girl the blooming face upon the pillow, knew that three
was very happy as she looked down at the subjects good spirits had come to help little Marjorie from
who had served her so faithfully that day. that day forth, and their names were Industry,
"Have --ou had a good time, Marjy ?" asked Cheerfulness, and Love.


BY A. D. W.

MERRY Christmas! girls and boys.
Santa Claus with team and toys
Now is starting on his way,
With his overladen sleigh,-
Never heeding cold or wetting,
Not a single town forgetting.
But a puzzled look he bears
As he moves among his wares;

And I doubt if ever yet
Was Santa Claus in such a pet.
Now he purses up his lips,
Snaps his rosy finger-tips;
All in vain he scans his store,
Names the children o'er and o'er,
Just one boy deserves a switch,
And he has forgotten which.






CHRISTMAS in .the East!-in a land where it
never snows, and where the houses do not even
have chimneys, as fires are not needed to sit by,
and the cooking is done in little shanties built
apart from the dwellings. But then it is always
warm enough to leave doors and windows wide
open, and dear old Santa Claus may take his

our little ones of the "trees" and "stockings," or
the feasting and presents, and the "good times"
generally that belong to this cheery season. We
had in our beautiful Eastern home, embowered in
its wonderful tropic flowers so fragrant and so fair,
a blue-eyed boy, with fair, rosy cheeks, and soft,
wavy hair like a cloud of golden sunlight; and


choice of entering by either of these instead of a
chimney, thus escaping the chance of getting
burned or begrimed with soot.
SThe Orientals themselves do not know much
about Christmas, either as a holiday, or the blessed
anniversary that commemorates the birth of our
dear, loving Saviour, who was born as a babe in
Bethlehem, and who died for us on Calvary. But
we who went from pleasant homes and happy fire-
sides in this fair land did not forget the.good old
fashion of Christmas-keeping," nor fail to tell

there was another who came often to play with
him-a little prince, of slight, graceful figure, with
the rich, bronze complexion of that sunny clime,
and beautiful dark eyes that flashed like diamonds.
His glossy black hair was worn very curiously,-at
the back cut close to the head, and in front, where
it was almost a foot long, coiled in a smooth knot
on the top of the forehead, and confined by a long,
golden pin set with very costly diamonds. Around
this knot of hair was always twined a wreath of
jessamines or tuberoses that were held in place by





jeweled pins. His simple costume consisted of
only two flowing garments of silk or embroidered
muslin, but the deficiency was more than made up
by jewelry, of which he wore incredible quantities,
in the varied forms of rings, chains, anklets and
bracelets. There were half-a-dozen or more gold
necklaces around his throat, and an equal number
of chains across the left shoulder, passing under
the right arm; a jeweled girdle of very great value
was clasped about his waist; heavy gold bracelets,
one above another, filled nearly the entire space
between his wrist and elbow, and many more, just
as massive and costly, were around the brown
ankles, while every finger was literally loaded with
But the most curious of all was a tiny talisman of
quaint workmanship, suspended by a slender chain
about the child's neck, and designed, so his mother
told me, to keep off witches and evil spirits. The
head nurse had placed this "charm" on the baby's
neck at his birth, and, sleeping or waking, it was
never removed. On his visits to my house, the
little prince was always attended by thirty or forty
servants, who crouched down about the halls and
verandas, ready to wait on their little lord and
see that he was kept out of harm's way. On first
entering, the wee prince would step gravely for-
ward and hold up his sweet face to me for the
usual kiss, and then, seating himself on a low otto-
man, would beckon one of his servants to come
and remove his cumbrous ornaments, that he
might the better enjoy a romp with my little son.
So one costly decoration after another would be
taken off, and as they were laid all together in one
glittering pile there seemed almost enough to
stock a small jewelry store. Thus relieved, the
little prince would bound away with the joyous
exclamation: "Now I can play ever so nice!"
The two playfellows loved each other very dearly,
and seemed never to weary of being together; yet
they would look into each other's faces with ques-
tioning wonder, as if to ask why they were so
different. The little prince would stroke fondly
the soft, golden curls of his companion, and then
run to a mirror and stand for minutes together,
feeling and scrutinizing his own glossy locks of
raven blackness; while my own fair boy would pat
lovingly the bronze-tinted cheek of the handsome
little prince, and then look at his own tiny,
dimpled hand, white almost as a snow-flake, to
see if the color had been transferred by touching.
As different as possible they were in everything,
yet both so very lovely and charming, one never
knew which most to admire. One was round,
chubby and dimpled, with cheeks like a fresh rose,
, and eyes blue; the other, pale, dark, slender and
graceful-one all roguishness and fun; the other

noting everything about him, and strangely wise
and dignified for his years.
They were very near of an age, the little prince
being the senior by only a few months, and when
the Christmas after their fifth birthday came round,
I determined to give them a celebration-such an
one as they had never seen in all their five-year
lives. That they might enjoy to the full the
pleasant surprise, I kept my own.counsel and told
them nothing, except that the young prince was to
come and spend the day with me, and bring his
little sister. My boy knew there was to be com-
pany, as usual, on Christmas-day, and that was
all. On Christmas Eve, Santa Claus arrived with
mysterious-looking parcels-enough to set Master
Harry half crazy with curiosity, and render it ex-
tremely difficult to get him off to bed at his usual
early hour. When relieved of his presence, we
set to work in good earnest and soon had all
things arranged to our minds.
At six o'clock on Christmas morning, our merry
prattler was aroused by a bombardment of Chinese
fire-crackers against the nursery, door; and, be-
fore he could be arrayed in his simple dress of
white muslin, more than half of the twenty little
guests who had been invited were already in the
reception-room. A few moments more brought
the remainder, the little prince and his sister
among them; and then the folding-doors that
led to papa's study were thrown open, and Santa
Claus stood revealed to the astonished group 1
Yes, there stood "His Excellency" dressed in
fantastic garb of green and' gold Chinese "knee
breeches," and huge, glittering buckles on his
white-soled shoes; while over all, as if the ther-
mometer had been standing at zero instead of
1o2, was thrown a bright crimson cloak, and his
cap was surmounted by a crest of what seemed to
be real, genuine icicles. From the capacious
pockets of his fantastic cloak, Santa Claus scat-
tered bonbons and fire-works profusely around,
standing guard meanwhile over the beautiful tree
that adorned the center of the apartment and
towered in majestic height almost to the ceiling.
Not one of the children had ever seen Santa
Claus before, and they were lost in wonder as to
where he could have sprung from, with his long,
white beard and frosty hair, so strangely opposed
to his merry voice and frolicsome pranks. There
is no telling how long the disguise would have been.
kept up, but in .... I.;i,- ;il, one of the little ones,
the false mustache dropped off, and could not be
replaced, and the merry peal of laughter that fol-
lowed betrayed the imposture, as with a scream of
delight little Harry exclaimed: "Papa! my own
So cloak and crown were thrown aside, and




" papa" in his own person no longer guarded the
tree, but invited all to approach and partake of its
precious fruits. It was a gracefully formed orange-
tree, alive and growing in a huge tub, every twig
and branch loaded with the fragrant blossoms, and
green and ripe fruit in the various stages. Among
the branches were tiny Chinese lanterns of oiled
silk, painted in fantastic pictures of angels and
dragons, winged women and flying fish, and all
the other impossible things that Chinese artists
love to paint. The gifts and toys that decorated
the tree were just as wonderful, but in quite a
different way. There were toy sets of furniture
of exquisitely carved ivory instead of wood; minia-
ture steamboats and chariots that could be wound
up like a clock, and made to run for half an hour;
magic tumblers and jugglers acting like things of
life; artificial basins of water with fish and ducks
swimming in them, which by means of a magnetic
needle could be made to gather around a pretty
little maiden, whose call was expressed by raising
her hands; miniature tea-sets of beautiful por-
celain; curious ivory balls cut within balls, and
various other things that I have not time here to
describe, besides puzzles, games and bonbons in
seemingly endless variety. On the topmost sum-
mit of the tree hung the American and Siamese
flags with blended folds. The national banner of
Siam is a white elephant on a crimson ground.
The top of a light and graceful tree seemed a queer
place for an elephant, but, I have no doubt, our
youngsters thought the gay colors floating over
the green leaves and golden fruit looked very
handsome. Upon tiny twigs, that Could support
nothing more weighty, were hung small crystallized
fruits, and among them floated a tiny, silken flag,
on which were written these lines:
SThough mighty deeds by right,
From older folks are due,
Yet little ones should try
Some good, at least, to do.
The gentle child, though small,
May little favors show;
And loving words to all
Fiom infant lips may flow."
The tree, with all it contained, was given up to
the little ones to be disposed of just as they
wished; and that they found in its fruits bound-
less stores of enjoyment no one would have
doubted, after hearing their glad shouts of joy
during all the hours of that happy Christmas-
day. So busy and so merry were they over their
treat that they could scarcely be persuaded to
stop at nine o'clock long enough for breakfast;
but when dinner came at four P. M. both curiosity

and the spirit of frolic were somewhat abated, and
they sat down to the feast, prepared to do full jus-
tice to the good things set before them. Twenty
high chairs had been collected from the neighbor-
ing families for the use of the little guests, and
they sat around that long. table, as beautiful a
group of laughing, rosy cherubs as ever were
collected under a roof. The eldest of the com-
pany was less than six, and the youngest-dainty,
flaxen-haired little Blanche-scarcely three. Right
merrily they chatted and joked, and talked baby
nonsense-sometimes in English, more frequently
in Siamese or Malay-for three-year-old linguists
who talk half-a-dozen languages are often found
in the East. But never a discord was heard, a
word of impatience, or an angry retort from all
that happy group.
At six (which is twilight within the Tropics), we
had a grand display of fire-works: rockets, squibs
and fire-wheels, tokas and Roman candles; and
then the merry party broke up, to return to their
several homes. Among all my tiny guests not
one was more delighted than the little prince, as
wonderingly he inspected all the arrangements of
this first Christmas in which he had ever, really,
taken any part. Santa Claus and the tree were
very prodigies of beauty and skill in the eyes of
the little fellow, and over and over again, as his
parents told me, were all the details of that cheery
Christmas festival reinacted within the broad halls
of the grand palace royal, .of which this beautiful
boy was the most cherished ornament. He decked
out one of his attendants as Santa Claus, and a
dozen little half-brothers and sisters, all near his
own age, served as guests. Not an important
item of the celebration he so much enjoyed was
omitted; and it shows the wonderful aptitude of
the royal child, that after witnessing only for a
single time these varied details he should be able
to reproduce them with such accuracy. Now, in
his young manhood, it is still the same intelligent
aptitude applied to the introduction from other
countries of many of the inventions and improve-
ments of the day, that has given to Siam such a
wonderful impetus in progress, and to the two
youthful sovereigns of that fair land, the first place
among Oriental monarchs. For that little head
now wears a crown; the tiny, dimpled fingers so
busy in plucking the fruits of the Christmas-tree,
to-day grasp a jeweled scepter, and the boy folded
so lovingly in my arms on that happy Christmas-
day, now occupies the glittering throne of the
"Sacred and great kingdom of Siam," and re-
ceives the loving homage of its ten millions of






" COME, Willie I would n't be toasting
My shins at the.fire all night,
When the .snow is so splendid for coasting,
And the full moon is shining so bright.

'I would n't be such a young napper,
For anything under the sun.
Come on with your fur cap and wrapper!
We are sure to have capital fun.

" Dobb's Hill is the place. You must hurry !
:The boys all are out in the snow!
And tell your mamma not to worry;
We'll be back by ten-as you know."

So Willie got up and bestirred him;
But David had gone ere he woke.
Said Willie: "I certainly heard him-
Yes, surely 'twas David that spoke."

Then off Willie started to find him,
With his cap, and his mittens, and sled.
"Stop, David!" he shouted behind him;
But David heard nothing he said.

"He's gone to Dobb's Hill, where the coasting
Is best-for the hill's very high;
And David has always been boasting
He could run his sled farther than I "

Then up to Dobb's Hill Willie floundered,
But lo not a boy to be seen;
And he stood in the snow there, and pondered,
And wondered what David could mean.

'T was almost as clear as the noon-light-
The trees towered tall overhead;
He stood in the silence and moonlight,
And mournfully looked at his sled.

I'd better go back, then," said Willie;
"There's little fun coasting alone.
But then, it seems stupid and silly
Not having some fun of my own."

Now while he took time for deciding,
And this way and that turned his head,
He saw a small figure come riding
Straight up the hill-side, on a sled.

"Ho, David !" cried Will, "you 've been hiding;
But this is as strange as a dream,-
For how in the world are you.riding
Up :." without horses or steam?"

But never an answer got Willie-
The figure sat still as a gnome;
He began to feel solemn and chilly,
And wished he had never left home.

But slowly and slowly the figure
Moved up o'er the snow and the ice;
Then suddenly seemed to grow bigger,
And leapt from his sled in a trice.

"Come, Willie !"he cried, "we'll together
Coast down on my sled to the lake;
There was never such glorious weather
For a journey like that we shall take."

"But you are not David!" said Willie;
With strangers like you I 'll not go."
Said the man: "You must go, willy-nilly,
For I am your uncle, you know,-

"Your uncle; Cadwallader Biornson,
From Lapland. It can't be denied:
Your mother's half-brother, Luke Johnson,
Was mine-on your grandmother's side.

"I was coming this evening to see you;
But am glad that I met you just here.
I was n't quite sure it could be you,
Until I could see you quite near.

"It's a wonderful sled that I carry-
'T will take you wherever you will;
So get on behind me-don't tarry;
We'll take such a ride down the hill!"

Here he loosened his cap and his wrappers,
And showed him an honest old face.
What a pity he told him such whappers,
And talked with so winning a grace!

For Willie was coaxed to believe him,-
He was sure such a twinkling eye
Could never betray or deceive him,
And yet he could hardly tell why.






"He looks like old Santa Claus, clearly!
Perhaps he will take me to see
Where he keeps all the toys that he yearly
Hangs up on the Christmas-tree "

So off in the moonlight they started,-
"His uncle" before, he behind,-
VOL. III.-12.

And Willie was gay and light-hearted,
As downward they flew like the wind.

Faster and faster and faster !
Far down on their slippery track;
And Will, he stuck on like a plaster
Behind the old gentleman's back.




But soon it grew colder and colder,
No end to the hill anywhere,
And he saw o'er the Laplander's shoulder
That they seemed to be flying through air.

And round them the stars were all flashing,
Auroras waved wild overhead,
Till at last came a terrible crashing
That shook him all over with dread.

And a blue flying meteor shot by him-
He shrank from the glare and the heat,
For it flamed and it thundered so nigh him,
He started and fell from his seat!

He fell from his seat-and it woke him-
Still there by the fire, it would seem !
And David will tease him and joke him,
Because he once told him his dream.


C'6tait une belle matin6e de printemps; le soleil
brillait, les oiseaux chantaient, l'herbe 6tait toute
couverte d'une fraiche rose. Dans le ruisseau qui
long le jardin, un joli petit ruisseau qui coule
doucement a travers des prairies 6maill6es de fleurs,
Maman Cane donnait des lemons de natation a ses
petits; vous savez bien que le premier devoir d'un
canard est de bien apprendre a nager, et naturelle-
ment, Madame Cane soignait beaucoup cette
branch de l'education de ses petits. Elle les cor-
rigeait quand ils ne nageaient pas bien, leur faisait
tenir la tdte droite, et enseignait en outre aux deux
ain6s 6 longer. Les canetons n'en 6taient pas a
leur premiere lecon et faisaient d6jh bonne figure
dans l'eau. Aussi, apres avoir 6tudi6 quelque temps,
les jeunes ecoliers demandent a leur maitresse la
permission d'aller faire une petite promenade a la
nage; elle le leur permet, et voilk nos canetons qui
s'elancent gaiement avec le courant. Les deuce
aines ouvraient la march et servaient d'avant-
garde; ensuite venaient les trois autres; c'6tait la
premiere fois qu'ils s'en allaient seuls, et ils regar-
daient tous a droite et a gauche, parceque tout leur
etait nouveau et strange. A measure qu'ils na-
geaient, le ruisseau s'elargissait; de gais papillons
voltigeaient parmi les fleurs, et de jolis oiseaux
chantaient sur les buissons. Ils nageaient dejh de-
puis quelque temps, lorsque tout a coup un grand'
bruit se fit entendre; l'eau fut agitee; les canards
effray6s, se retournerent just a temps pour voir les
pattes de derriere d'un gros vieux crapaud dispa-
raitre sous 1'eau.
Ce n'etait vraiement pas la peine de nous effrayer
pour si peu de chose," dit le plus grand des ca-
nards, qui s'appellait Neptune; mais lui aussi avait
bien eu peur. Ils rirent de leur frayeur, et con-
tinu&rent leur chemin; a ce moment, leur attention
fut attire par des cris piteux pouss6s par un des
trois petits canards; il avait vu quelque chose au
bord du ruisseau qu'il croyait 6tre bon a manger et
il 6tait alley se fourrer le bec entire deux pierres et
ne pouvait plus le retire. I1 se d6battait comme
un furieux quand les autres arrivirent; les deux
grands le saisirent, chacun par une aile, les deux

autres petits le prirent par la queue, et ils tir6rent
tant qu'ils purent. Enfin, 6 force de tirer, ils fini-
rent par degager leur petit frere, le bec a moitie
disloqu6, et en proie a un mal de dents horrible.
II pleurait a chaudes larmes mais ses camarades
r6ussirent a le consoler, et il les suivit a quelque
distance, mais sans rire et sans jouer avec eux.
Tout en nageant, ils arriverent devant une maison
oh il y avait un petit chien; aussit6t que celui-ci
les apergut, il fondit droit sur eux en aboyant de
toutes ses forces, comme s'il efit voulu en gober au
moins deux 6 la fois. Mais en arrivant au bord de
l'eau, il s'arr6ta, indecis, sans avoir le courage d'y
entrer. Quand les canetons virent combien il 6tait
liche, ils s'arrftlrent, le regardlrent avec m6pris,
et joignirent leurs couacs de d6fi a ses aboiements
furieux. Au bruit qu'ils firent, la porte de la maison
s'ouvrit, un petit garcon sortit, et vint en courant
vers nos canetons. I1 n'avait pas 'air bien gentil,
et quand, au lieu de chasser le.petit chien, il se mit
a ramasser des pierres, les canards commenchrent
a se douter de ses intentions. L'avant-garde donna
le signal de la fuite, et, tournant bec, ils filrent a
toutes pattes. Il etait temps, car le petit gargon
etait d6ej en train de leur jeter des pierres. Mais
heureusement, plus il jetait de pierres, moins il
rlussissait a les atteindre. Quand ils furent hors
de portee de ses attaques, ils se retournerent pour
voir ce qu'il allait faire. Le petit gamin pleurait
presque de rage, et courait le long du ruisseau pour
arriver plus pros d'eux; mais sa colere l'empichait
de voir ot il mettait les pieds; il fit un faux pas,
pouf!-le voilk dans l'eau. En entendant ses cris
de detresse, sa mire accourut, le retira de l'eau, et
lui donnant deux bons soufflets, l'emmena dans la
mason se s6cher. La chute du petit emport6 ex-
cita un rire fou chez les canards, mais ils penserent
qu'il etait plus prudent de ne pas continue leur
promenade ce jour-1l, et se mirent en route pour
aller retrouver la maman.
En revenant, il ne leur arriva rien qui vaille la
peine d'etre racont6, et ils pass&rent le reste de la
journ6e a causer de leurs ventures, et a les d6-
tailler a la Maman Cane.

(Translations of this little story will be received until February i5th.)




(A Cristmas Story.)


HE winter sun was nearing
the horizon's edge. Each
.moment the tree-shadows
-i w longer in the forest; each mo-
L., rint the crimson light on the upper
.- bughs became more red and bright.
( 'd 2 It was Christmas Eve, or would be
in half-an-hour, when the sun should
be fairly set; but it did not feel like
S Christmas, for the afternoon was mild
and sweet, and the wind in the leaf-
less boughs sang, as it moved about,
as though to imitate the vanished
birds. Soft trills and whistles, odd little shakes
and twitters;-it was astonishing what pretty noises
the wind made, for it was in good humor, as winds
should be on the Blessed Night; all its storm-
tones and bass-notes were for the moment laid
aside, and gently, as though hushing a baby
to sleep,.it cooed and rustled and brushed to and
fro in the leafless woods.
Toinette stood,, pitcher in hand, beside the well.
"Wishing Well" the people called it, for they)
believed that if any one standing there, bowed to
the East, repeated a certain rhyme and wished a
wish, the wish would certainly come true. Un-
luckily, nobody knew exactly what the rhyme
should be. Toinette did not; she was wishing
that she did, as she stood with her eyes fixed on
the bubbling water. How nice it would be! she
thought.- What beautiful things should be hers,
if it were only to wish and to have She would
be beautiful, rich, good-oh, so good The chil-
dren should love her dearly, and never be disa-
greeable. Mother should not work so hard-they
should all go back to France-which mother said
was si belle. Oh, dear, how nice it would be !
Meantime, the sun sank lower, and mother at
home was waiting for the water, but Toinette foi-
got that.
Suddenly she started. A low sound of crying
met her ear, and something like a tiny moan. It
seemed close by, but she saw nothing.
Hastily she filled her pitcher, and turned to go.
But again the sound came, an unmistakable sob,
right under her feet. Toinette stopped short.
What is the matter ? she called out bravely.
" Is anybody there; and if there is, why don't I
see you ? "
A third sob-and all at once, down on the

ground beside her, a tiny figure became visible, so
small that Toinette had to kneel and stoop her
head to see it plainly. The figure was that of an
odd little man. He wore a garb of green, bright
and glancing as the scales of a beetle. In his mite
of a hand was a cap, out of which stuck a long-
.pointed feather. Two specks of tears stood on his
cheeks, and he fixed on Toinette a glance so sharp
and so sad, that it made her feel sorry and fright-
ened and confused all at once.
Why, how funny this is she said, speaking
to herself out loud.
Not at all," replied the little man, in a voice
as dry and crisp as the chirr of a grasshopper.
Anything but funny. I wish you would n't use
such words. It hurts my feelings, Toinette."
"Do you know my name, then?" cried Toi-
nette, astonished. "That's strange! But what
is the matter? Why are you crying so, little
man ? "
I 'm not a little man. I'm an elf," responded
the dry voice; and I think you'd cry if you had
an engagement out to tea, and found yourself
spiked on a great bayonet, so that you couldn't
move an inch. Look! He turned a little as he
spoke, and Toinette saw a long rose-thorn stick-
ing through the back of the green robe. The little
man could by no means reach the thorn, and it
held him fast prisoner to the place.
"Is that all? I'll take it out for you," she
Be careful-oh, be careful entreated the
little man. This is my new dress, you know-
my Christmas suit, and it's got to last a year.
If there is a hole in it, Peascod will tickle me, and
Bean Blossom tease till I shall wish myself dead."
He stamped with vexation at the thought.
Now, you must n't do that," said Toinette, in
a motherly tone, else you 'll tear it yourself, you
know." She broke off the thorn as she spoke, and
gently drew it out. The elf anxiously examined
the stuff. A tiny puncture only was visible, and
his face brightened.
"You're a good child," he said. ."I'll do as
much for you some day, perhaps."
I would have come before if I had seen you,"
remarked Toinette; .,I i .:. But I did n't see
you a bit."
No, because I had my cap on," replied the
elf. He placed it on his head as he spoke, and,





hey, presto nobody was there, only a voice which
laughed and said: "Well-don't stare so. Lay
your finger on me now."
"Oh!" said Toinette, with a gasp. How
wonderful! What fun it must be to do that! The
children would n't see me. I should steal in and
surprise them; they would go on talking, and
never guess that I was there I should so like it !
Do elves ever lend their caps to anybody? I wish
you 'd lend me yours. It must be so nice to be
invisible "
Ho cried the elf, appearing suddenly again.
"Lend my cap, indeed! Why, it would n't stay
on the very tip of your ear, it's so small. As for
nice, that depends. Sometimes it is, and some-
times it is n't. No, the only way for mortal peo-
ple to be invisible is to gather the fern-seed and
put it in their shoes."
Gather it? Where? I never saw any seed to
the ferns," said Toinette, staring about her.
Of course not-we elves take care of that,"
replied the little man. Nobody finds the fern-
seed but ourselves. I'll tell you what, though.
You were such a nice child to take out the thorn
so cleverly, that I'll give you a little of the seed.
Then you can try the fun of being invisible to your
heart's content."
"Will you really? How delightful! May I
have it now ? "
Bless me do you think I carry my pocket
stuffed with it? said the elf. "Not at all. Go
home, say not a word to anybody, but leave your
bedroom window open to-night, and you 'll see
what you '11 see."'
He laid his finger on his nose as he spoke, gave
a jump like a grasshopper, clapping on his cap as
he went, and vanished. Toinette lingered a mo-
ment, in hopes that he might come back, then
took her pitcher and hurried home. The woods
were very dusky by this time; but, full of her
strange adventure, she,did not remember to feel
How long you have been said her mother.
It's late for a little maid like you to be up. You
must make better speed another time, my child."
Toinette pouted, as she was apt to do when re-
proved. The children clamored to know what had
kept her, and she spoke pettishly and crossly; so
that they too became cross, and presently went
away into the outer kitchen to play by themselves.
The children were apt to creep away when Toi-
nette came. It made her angry and unhappy at
times that they should do so, but she did not real-
ize that it was in great part her own fault, and so
did not set herself to mend it.
Tell me a 'tory," said baby Jeanneton, creep-
ing to her knee a little later. But Tdinette's head

was full of the elf; she had no time to spare for
Oh, not to-night!" she replied. "Ask mother
to tell you one."
Mother's busy," said Jeanneton, wistfully.
Toinette took no notice, and the little one crept
away disconsolately.
Bed-time at last. Toinette set the casement
open, and lay a long time waiting and watching;
then she fell asleep. She waked with a sneeze and
jump, and sat up in bed. Behold, on the coverlet
stood her elfin friend, with a long train of other elves
beside him, all clad in the beetle-wing green, and
wearing little pointed caps! More were coming in
at the window; outside a few were drifting about in
the moon-rays, which lit their sparkling robes till
they glittered like so many fire-flies. The odd
thing was, that though the caps were on, Toinette
could see the elves distinctly, and this surprised
her so much, that again she thought out loud, and
How funny "
You mean about the caps," replied her special
elf, who seemed to have the power of reading
thoughts. "Yes, you can see us to-night, caps
and all. Spells lose their value on Christmas Eve
always. Peascod, where is the box ? Do you
still wish to try the experiment of being invisible,
Toinette ? "
Oh, yes-indeed I do "
Very well-so let it be 1 "
As he spoke he beckoned, and two elves, puffing
and panting like men with a heavy load, dragged
forward a droll little box about the size of a pump-
kin-seed. One of them lifted the cover.
Pay the porter, please ma'am," he said, giving
Toinette's ear a mischievous tweak with his sharp
Hands off, you bad Peascod!" cried Toinette's
elf. "This is my girl. She sha'n't be pinched."
He dealt Peascod a blow with his tiny hand as he
spoke, and looked so brave and warlike, that he
seemed at least an inch taller than he had before.
Toinette admired him very much; and Peascod
slunk away with an abashed giggle, muttering that
Thistle need n't be so ready with his fist.
Thistle-for thus, it seemed, Toinette's friend
was named--dipped his fingers in the box, which
was full of fine brown seeds, and shook a handful
into each of Toinette's shoes, as they stood, toes
together, by the bedside.
"Now you have your wish," he said, "and can
go about and do what you like, no one seeing. The
charm will end at sunset. Make the most of it
while you can; but if you want to end it sooner,
shake the seeds from the shoes, and then you are
just as usual."




Oh, I sha' n't want to," protested Toinette;
"I 'm sure I sha' n't."
Good-bye," -said Thistle, with a mocking little
"Good-bye, and thank you ever so much," re-
plied Toinette.
"Good-bye, good-bye," replied the other elves,
in shrill chorus. They clustered together, as if in
consultation; then straight out of the window they

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happened? She put on her best petticoat, and
laced her blue bodice; for she thought the mother
would perhaps take them across the wood to the little
chapel for the Christmas service. Her long hair
smoothed and tied, her shoes trimly fastened, down-
stairs she ran. The mother was stirring porridge
over the fire. Toinette went close to her, but she
did not move or turn her head.
"How late the children are !" she said at last,

flew like a swarm of gauzy-winged bees, and melt- lifting the boiling pot on the hob. Then she
ed into the moonlight. Toinette jumped up and went to the stair-foot, and called, "Marc, Jeanne-
ran to watch them; but the little men were gone ton, Pierre, Marie Breakfast is ready, my chil-
-not a trace of them was to be seen; so she shut dren. Toinette-but where, then, is Toinette ?
the window, went back to bed, and presently, in She is used to be down long before this."
the midst of her amazed and excited thoughts, fell "Toinette is n't upstairs," said Marie, from
asleep. above. "Her door is wide open, and she isn't
She waked in the morning with a queer, doubt- there."
ful feeling. Had she dreamed, or had it really "That is strange!" said the mother. I have



- A----N : : --
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been here an hour, and she has not passed this
way since." She went to the outer door ahd
called, Toinette Toinette "-passing close to
Toinette as she did so, and looking straight at
her with unseeing eyes. Toinette, half-frightened,
half-pleased, giggled low'to herself. She really
was invisible then How strange it seemed, and
what fun it was going to be !
The children sat down to breakfast, little Jean-
neton, as the youngest, saying grace. The mother
distributed the hot porridge, and gave each a
spoon, but she looked anxious.
"Where can Toinette have gone ?" she said to
Toinette was conscience-pricked. She was half
inclined to dispel the charm on the spot. But just
then she caught a whisper from Pierre to Marc,
which so surprised her as to put the idea out of
her head.
"Perhaps a wolf has eaten her up-a great big
wolf, like the Capuchon Rouge,' you know."
This was what Pierre said; and Marc answered,
If he has, I shall ask mother to let me have
her room for my own "
Poor Toinette her cheeks burnt and her eyes
filled with tears at this. Did n't the boys love her
a bit, then? Next she grew angry, and longed to
box Marc's ears, only she recollected in time that
she was invisible. What a bad boy he was she
The smoking porridge reminded her that she
was hungry; so brushing away the tears, she slip-
ped a spoon off the table, and whenever she found
the chance, dipped it into the bowl for a mouthful.
The porridge disappeared rapidly.
I want some more," said Jeanneton.
Bless me, how fast you have eaten said the
mother, turning to.the bowl.
This made Toinette laugh, which shook her
spoon, and a drop of the hot mixture fell right on
the tip of Marie's nose, as she sat with up-turned
face waiting her turn for a second helping. Marie
gave a little scream.
"What is it? said the mother.
"Hot water! Right in my face !" spluttered
"Water cried Marc. It's porridge."
"You spattered with your spoon. Eat more
carefully, my child," said the mother; and Toi-
nette laughed again as she heard her. After all,
there was some fun in being'invisible !
The morning went by. Constantly the mother
went to the door, and, shading her eyes with
her hand, looked out, in hopes of seeing a little
figure come down the wood-path, for she thought,
perhaps, the child went to the spring after water,

and fell asleep there. The children played happily,
meanwhile. They were used to doing without Toi-
nette, and did not seem to miss her, except that
now and then baby Jeanneton said: "Poor Toi-
nette gone-not here-all gone "
"Well, what if she has?" said Marc at last,
looking up from the wooden cup he was carving
for Marie's doll. "We can play all the better."
Marc was a bold, outspoken boy, who always
told his whole mind about things.
If she were here," he went on, she 'd only
scold and interfere. Toinette almost always
scolds. I like to have her go away. It makes it
It is rather pleasanter," admitted Marie, only
I'd like her to be having a nice time somewhere
Bother about Toinette !" cried Pierre. "Let's
play 'My godmother has cabbage to sell.' "
I don't think Toinette had ever felt so unhappy
in her life, as when she stood by unseen, and heard
the children say these words. She had never meant
to be unkind to them, but she was quick-tempered,
dreamy, wrapped up in herself. She did not like
being interrupted by them, it put her out, and then
she spoke sharply and was cross. She had taken
it for granted that the others must love her, by a
sort of right, and the knowledge that they did not
grieved her very much. Creeping away, she hid
herself in the woods. It was a sparkling day, but
the sun did not look so bright as usual. Cuddled
down under a rose-bush, Toinette sat, sobbing as if
her heart would break at the recollection of the
speeches she had overheard.
By and by a little voice within her woke up
and began to make itself audible. All of us know
this little voice. We call it conscience.
"Jeanneton missed me," she thought. And,
oh dear! I pushed her away only last night and
wouldn't tell her a story. And Marie hoped I was
having a pleasant time somewhere. I wish I had n't
slapped Marie last Friday. And I wish I had n't
thrown Marc's ball into the fire that day I was
angry with him. How unkind he was to say
that-but I was n't always kind to him. And once
I said that I wished a bear would eat Pierre up.
That was because he broke my cup. Oh dear, oh
dear What a bad girl I've been to them all "
But you could be better and kinder if you tried,
couldn't you?" said the inward voice. "I think
you could." And Toinette clasped her hands
tight and said out loud : "I could. Yes-and I
The first thing to be done was to get rid of the
fern-seed, which she now regarded as a hateful
thing. She untied her shoes and shook it out in
the grass. It dropped and seemed to melt into the





air, for it instantly vanished. A mischievous laugh
sounded close behind, and a beetle-green coat-tail
was visible, whisking under a tuft of rushes. But
Toinette had had enough of the elves, and tying
her shoes, took the road toward home, running
with all her might.
"Where have you been all day, Toinette?"
cried the children, as, breathless and panting, she
flew in at the gate. But Toinette could not speak.
She made slowly for her mother, who stood in the
door-way, flung herself into her arms, and burst
into a passion of tears.
"Ma cherie, what is it, whence hast thou come ?"
asked the. good mother, alarmed. She lifted Toi-
nette into her arms as she spoke, and hastened
indoors. The other children followed, whispering
and peeping, but the mother sent them away, and,
sitting down by the fire with Toinette in her lap,
she rocked and hushed and comforted, as though
Toinette had been again a little baby. Gradually
the sobs ceased. For awhile Toinette lay quiet,
with her head on her mother's breast. Then she
wiped her wet eyes, put her arms around her
mother's neck, and told her all from the very be-
ginning, keeping not a single thing back. The
dame listened with alarm.
Saints protect us," she muttered. Then feel-
ing Toinette's hands and head, "Thou hast a
fever," she said. "I will make thee a tisane, my
darling, and thou must at once go to bed." Toi-
nette vainly protested; to bed she went, and per-
haps it was the wisest thing, for the warm drink
threw her into a long, sound sleep, and when she
woke she was herself again, bright and well, hun-
gry for dinner, and ready to do her usual tasks.
Herself,-but not quite the same Toinette that
she had been before. Nobody changes from bad
to better in a minute. It takes time for that, time
and effort and a long struggle with evil habits and
tempers. But there is sometimes a certain minute
or day in which people begin to change, and thus
it was with Toinette. The fairy lesson was not
lost upon her. She began to fight with herself, to
watch her faults and try to conquer them. It was
hard work; often she felt discouraged, but she kept
on. Week after week and month after month, she
grew less selfish, kinder, more obliging than she
used to be. When she failed, and her old fractious
temper got the better of her, she was sorry, and
begged every one's pardon so humbly, that they
could not but forgive. The mother began to think
that the elves really had bewitched her child. As for
the children, they learned to love Toinette as never
before, and came to her with all their pains and
pleasures, as children should to a kind older sister.
Each fresh proof of this, each kiss from Jeanneton,
each confidence from Marc, was a comfort to

Toinette, for she never forgot Christmas-day, and
felt that no trouble was too niuch to wipe out that
unhappy recollection. I think they like me bet-
ter than they did then," she would say, but then
the thought came, "Perhaps if I were invisible
again, if they did not know I was there, I might
hear something to make me feel as badly as I
did that morning." These sad thoughts were part
of the bitter fruit of the fairy fern-seed.
So with doubts and fears the year went by, and
again it was Christmas Eve. Toinette had been
asleep some hours, when she was roused by a sharp
tapping at the window pane. Startled and only
half-awake, she sat up in bed, and saw by the
moonlight, a tiny figure outside, which she recog-
nized. It was Thistle, drumming with his knuckles
on the glass.
Let me in," cried the dry little voice. So
Toinette opened the casement, and Thistle flew in
and perched, as before, on the coverlet.
"Merry Christmas, my girl," he said, "and a
Happy New Year when it comes! I've brought
you a present; and, dipping into a pouch tied
round his waist, he pulled out a handful of some-
thing brown. Toinette knew what it was in a
Oh, no !" she cried, shrinking back. "Don't
give me any fern-seeds. They frighten me. I
don't like them."

Now, don't be silly," said Thistle, his voice
sounding kind this time, and earnest. It was n't
pleasant being invisible last year, but perhaps this
year it will be. Take my advice and try it. You '11
not be sorry."
Sha' n't I ?" said Toinette, brightening. "Very
well then, I will." She leaned out of bed, and
watched Thistle strew the fine, dust-like grains in
each shoe.
I'11 drop in to-morrow night, and just see how
you like it," he said. Then, with a nod, he was
The old fear came back when she woke in the
morning, and she tied on her shoes with a tremble
at her heart. Down-stairs she stole. The first
thing she saw was a wooden ship standing on her
plate. Marc had made the ship, but Toinette had
no idea that it was for her.
The little ones sat round the table with their eyes
on the door, watching till Toinette should come
in, and be surprised.
I wish she'd hurry," said Pierre, drumming on
his bowl with a spoon.
"We all want Toinette. don't we?" said the
mother, smiling as she poured the hot porridge.
It will be fun to see her stare," declared Marc.
"Toinette is jolly when she stares. Her eyes look
big, and her cheeks grow pink. Andre Brugen




thinks his sister Aline is prettiest, but I don't.
Our Toinette is ever so pretty."
She is ever so nice, too," said Pierre. She's
as good to play with as-as-a boy he finished,
Oh, I wish my Toinette would come said
Toinette waited no longer, but sped upstairs
with glad tears in her eyes. Two minutes, and

down she came again, visible this time. Her heart
was light as a feather.
"Merry Christmas!" clamored the children. The
ship was presented, Toinette was duly surprised,
and so the happy day began.
That night Toinette left the window open, and
lay down in her clothes; for she felt, as Thistle had
been so kind, she ought to receive him politely.

He came at midnight, and with him all the other
little men in green.
"Well, how was it ? asked Thistle.
"Oh, I liked it this time," declared Toinette,
with shining eyes. "And I thank you so much "
"I'm glad you did," said the elf. And I'm
glad you are thankful, for we want you to do some-
thing for us."
What can it be ?" inquired Toinette, wonder-
You must know," went on Thistle, that there
is no dainty in the world which we elves enjoy like
a bowl of fern-seed broth. But it has to be cooked
over a real fire, and we dare not go near fire, you
know, lest our wings scorch. So we seldom get any
fern-seed broth. Now, Toinette-will you make
us some ? "
Indeed I will," cried Toinette, only you must
tell me how."
"It is very simple," said Peascod; only seed
and honey dew, stirred from left to right with a sprig
of fennel. Here's the seed and the fennel, and
here's the dew. Be sure and stir from the left; if
you don't, it curdles, and the flavor will be spoiled."
Down into the kitchen they went, and Toinette,
moving very softly, quickened the fire, set on the
smallest bowl she could find, and spread the doll's
table with the wooden saucers which Marc had made
for Jeanneton to play with. Then she mixed and
stirred as the elves bade, and when the soup was
done, served it to them smoking hot. How they
feasted! No bumble-bee, dipping into a flower-
cup, ever sipped and twinkled more rapturously
than they.
When the last drop was eaten, they made ready
to go. Each, in turn, kissed Toinette's hand, and
said a little word of farewell. Thistle brushed his
feathered cap over the door-post as he passed.
Be lucky, house," he said, "for you have re-
ceived and entertained the luck-bringers. And be
lucky, Toinette. Good temper is good luck, and
sweet words and kind looks and peace in the heart
are the fairest of fortunes. See that you never lose
them again, my girl." With this, he, too, kissed
Toinette's hand, waved his feathered cap and-
whirr! they all were gone, while Toinette, cover-
ing the fire with ashes, and putting aside the
little cups, stole up to her bed a happy child.






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- -,_-'r' NE\\'S ON CHRIST-

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'_i. 2: ,-,! .. children dear!
S 1 r ..:.. Iorn in Bethlehem,
i: ir i; i-, Lid here!

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1!.: r. r,,i Ihe Holy Child
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.: I i. 'l'istmas morning,
'--:.C.I .:, children n glad !
i'.,!. ,- I: ,',: .'.-s to give the Lord
A. c .:! V,:'. '.en had.

I,-.:.1 i. : .., ,_-'Iistmas m morning,
I i'.. -. I childrenn fair !
-i!! *l.rl i!- :.ri, Good Shepherd hold
T I1-- ', :, i Iis care.

T i,' : _. : ..i, '. !ristmas morning,
Ti h.,I .. children dear !
IFr i I I! ame to Bethlehem
i ', i i ..d here.


i lJ




THE boys of Iceland must be content with very
few acquaintances or playmates. The valleys which
produce grass enough for the farmer's ponies, cattle
and sheep, are generally scattered widely apart,
divided by ridges of lava so hard and cold that
only a few wild flowers succeed in growing in their
cracks and hollows. Then, since the farms must
be all the larger, because the grass is short and
grows slowly in such a severe northern climate, the
dwellings are rarely nearer than four or five miles
apart; and were it not for their swift and nimble
ponies, the people would see very little of each
other except on Sundays, when they ride long dis-
tances to attend worship in their little wooden
But of all boys in the island, not one was so
lonely in his situation as Jon Sigurdson. His father
lived many miles beyond that broad, grassy plain
which stretches from the Geysers to the sea, on the
banks of the swift river Thibrva. On each side
there were mountains so black and bare that they
looked like gigantic piles of coal; but the valley
opened to the southward as if to let the sun in,
and far away, when the weather was clear, the
snowy top of Mount Hecla shone against the sky.
The farmer Sigurd, Jon's father, was a poor man,
or he would not have settled so far away from any
neighbors; for he was of a cheerful and social
nature, and there were few at Kyrkedal who could
vie with him in knowledge of the ancient history
and literature of Iceland.
The house was built on a knoll, under a cliff
which sheltered it from the violent west and north-
west winds. The walls, of lava stones and turf,
were low and broad; and the roofs over dwelling,
storehouses, and stables were covered deep with
earth, upon which grew such excellent grass that
the ponies were fond of climbing up the sloping
corners of the wall in order to get at it. Some-
times they might be seen, cunningly balanced on
the steep sides of the roof, grazing along the very
ridge-poles, or looking over the end of the gable
when some member of the family came out of the
door, as much as to say, Get me down if you
can 1" Around the buildings there was a square
wall of inclosure, giving the place the appearance
of a little fortress.
On one side of the knoll a hot spring bubbled
up. In the morning or evening, when the air was

cool, quite a little column of steam arose from it,
whirling and broadening as it melted away; but
the water was pure and wholesome as soon as it
became cold enough for use. In front of the house,
where the sun shone warmest, Sigurd had laid out
a small garden. It was a great labor for him to
remove the huge stones and roll them into a pro-
tecting wall, to carry good soil from the places
where the mountain rills had gradually washed it
down from above, and to arrange it so that frosts
and cold rains should do the least harm; and the
whole family thought themselves suddenly rich,
one summer, when they pulled their first radishes,
saw the little bed of potatoes coming into blossom,
and the cabbages rolling up their leaves, in order
to make, at least, baby-heads before the winter
Within the house, all was low, and dark, and
dismal. The air was very close and bad, for the
stables were only separated from the dwelling-room
by a narrow passage, and bunches of dry, salt fish
hung on the walls. Besides, it was usually full
of smoke from the fire of peat, and, after a rain, of
steam from Sigurd's and Jon's heavy woolen coats.
But to the boy it was a delightful, a comfortable
home, for within it he found shelter, warmth, food
and instruction. The room for visitors seemed to
him the most splendid place in the world, because
it had a wooden floor, a window with six panes of
glass, a colored print of the King of Denmark, and
a geranium in a pot. This was so precious a plant
that Jon and his sister Gudrid hardly dared to
touch its leaves. They were almost afraid to smell
it, for fear of sniffing away some of its life; and
Gudrid, after seeing a leaf of it laid on her dead
sister's bosom, insisted that some angel, many hun-
dred years ago, had brought the seed straight down
from heaven.
These were Sigurd's only children. There had
been several more, but they had died in infancy,
from the want of light and pure air, and the great
distance from help when sickness came. Gudrid
was still pale and slender, except in summer, when
her mild, friendly face took color from the sun;
but Jon, who was now fourteen, was a sturdy,
broad-breasted boy, who promised to be as strong
as his father in a few years more. He had thick
yellow hair, curling a little around his forehead;
large, bright blue eyes; and a mouth rather too
broad for beauty, if the lips had not been so rosy




and the teeth so white and firm. He had a serious
look, but it was only because he smiled with his
eyes oftener than with his mouth. He was naturally
true and good, for he hardly knew what evil was.
Except his parents and his sister, he saw no one
for weeks at a time; and when he met other boys

the cows were warmly stabled and content with
their meals of boiled hay; when the needful work
of the day could, be done in an hour or two, and
then Sigurd sat down to teach his children, while
their mother spun or knit beside them, and from
time to time took part in the instruction. Jon

I, '


after church at Kyrkedal, so much time always was
lost in shyly looking at each other and shrinking
from the talk which each wanted to begin, that no
very intimate acquaintance followed.
But, in spite of his lonely life, Jon was far
from being ignorant. There were the long win-
ter months, when the ponies-and sometimes the
sheep-pawed holes in the snow in order to reach
the grass on the bottoms beside the river; when

could already read and write so well that the pastor
at Kyrkedal lent him many an old Icelandic legend
to copy; he knew the history of the island, as well
as that of Norway and Denmark, and could answer
(with a good deal of blushing) when he was ad-
dressed in Latin. He also knew something of the
world, and its different countries and climates;
but this knowledge seemed to him like a strange
dream, or like -.....i.:iI;,, that happened long ago



and never could happen again. He was accus-
tomed to hear a little birch-bush, four or five feet
high, called "a tree," and he could not imagine
how any tree could be a hundred feet high, or bear
flowers and fruit. Once, a trader from Rejkiavik-
the chief seaport of Iceland-brought a few oranges
to Kyrkedal, and Sigurd purchased one for Jon
and Gudrid. The children kept it, day after day,
never tired of enjoying the splendid color and
strange, delightful perfume; so that when they
decided to cut the rind at last, the pulp was dried
up and tasteless. A city was something of which
Jon could form no conception, for he had never
even seen ..ji; -I i. he imagined that palaces and
cathedrals were like large Icelandic farm-houses,
with very few windows, and turf growing on the

SIGURD'S wealth, if it could be called so, was in
a small flock of sheep, the pasture for which was
scattered in patches for miles up and down the
river. The care of these sheep had been intrusted
chiefly to Jon, ever since he was eight years old,
and he had learned their natures and ways-their
simple animal virtues and silly animal vices-so
thoroughly, that they acquired a great respect for
hilm, and very rarely tried to be disobedient. Even
Thor, the ram, although he sometimes snorted and
tossed his horns in protest, or stamped impatiently
with his fore-feet, heeded his master's voice. In
fact, the sheep became Jon's companions, in the
absence of human ones; he talked to them so
much during the lonely days, that it finally seemed
as if they understood a great deal of his speech.
There was a rough bridle-path leading up the
valley of the Thiirva; but it was rarely traveled,
for it struck northward into the cold, windy, stony
desert which fills all the central .part of Iceland.'
For a hundred and fifty miles there was no dwell-
ing, no shelter from the fierce and sudden storms,
and so little grass that the travelers who sometimes
crossed the region ran the risk of losing their
ponies from starvation. There were lofty plains
of black rock, as hard as iron; groups of bare,
snowy-headed mountains; and often, at night, you
could see a pillar of fire in the distance, showing
that one of the many volcanoes was in action.
Beyond this terrible wilderness the grassy valleys
began again, and there were houses and herds,
increasing as you came down to the bright bays
along the northern shore of the island.
More than once, a trader or Government mes-
senger, after crossing the desert, had rested for a
night under Sigurd's roof; and many were the
tales of their adventures which Jon had treasured
up in his memory. Sometimes they spoke of the

trolls, or mischievous fairies, who came over with
the first settlers from Norway, and were still sup-
posed by many persons to lurk among the dark
glens of Iceland. Both Sigurd and the pastor at
Kyrkedal had declared that there were no such
creatures, and Jon believed them faithfully; yet he
could not help wondering, as he sat upon some
rocky knoll overlooking his sheep, whether a strange
little figure might not come out of the chasm oppo-
site, and speak to him. The more he heard of the
terrors and dangers of the desert to the northward,
the more he longed to see them with his own eyes
and know them through his own experience. He
was not the least afraid ; but he knew that his
father would never allow him to go alone, and to
disobey a father was something of which he had
never heard, and could not have believed to be
When he was in his fifteenth year, however (it
was summer, and he was fourteen in April), there
came several weeks when no rain fell in the valley.
It was a lovely season for the garden; even the
geranium in the window put forth twice as many
scarlet blossoms as ever before. Only the sheep
began to hunger; for the best patch of grass in
front of the house was carefully kept for hay, and
the next best, further down the river, for the ponies.
Beyond the latter, the land belonged to another.
So Jon was obliged to lead his flock to a narrow
little dell, which came down to the Thi6rva, three
or four miles to the northward. Here, for a week,
they nibbled diligently wherever anything green
showed itself at the foot of the black rocks; and
when the pasture grew scanty again, they began
to stare at Jon in a way which many persons might
have thought stupid. He understood them; they
meant to say: "We've nearly finished this; find
us something more "
That evening, as he was leading his flock into
the little inclosure beside the dwelling, he heard
his father and mother tii1:;,, He thought it no
harm to listen, for -they had never said anything
that was not kind and friendly. It seemed, how-
ever, that they were speaking of him, and the very
first words he heard made his heart beat more
Two days' journey away," said Sigurd; and
excellent pastures that belong to nobody. There
is no sign of rain yet, and if we could'send Jon with
the sheep "
"Are you sure of it ? his wife asked.
"Eyvindur stopped to talk with me," he an-
swered; "and he saw the place this morning. He
says there were rains in the desert, and, indeed,
I 've thought so myself, because the river has not
fallen; and he never knew as pleasant a season to
cross the country."




"Jon might have to stay out a week or two;
but, as you say, Sigurd, we should save our flock.
The boy may be trusted, I'm sure; only, if any-
thing should happen to him ?"
"I don't think he's fearsome," said Sigurd;
" and what should happen to him there, that might
not happen nearer home ? "
They moved away, while Jon clasped the palms
of his hands hard against each other, and stood
still for a minute to repeat to himself all he had
heard. He knew Eyvindur, the tall, strong man
with the dark curling hair, who rode the swift
cream-colored pony, with black mane and tail. He
knew what his father meant-nothing else than
that he, Jon, should take the sheep two days' jour-
ney away, to the very edge of the terrible wilder-
ness, and pasture them there, alone, probably, for
many days! Why, Columbus, when he set sail
from Palos, could not have had a brighter dream
of unknown lands Jon went in to supper in such
a state of excitement that he hardly touched the
dried fish and hard oaten bread; but he drank two
huge bowls of milk and still felt thirsty. When,
at last, Sigurd opened his lips and spake, and the
mother sat silent with her eyes fixed upon her son's
face, and Gudrid looked frightened, Jon straight-
ened himself as if he were already a man, and
quietly said: I'll do it '
He wanted to shout aloud for joy; but Gudrid
began to cry.
However, when a thing had once been decided
in the family, that was the end of any question or
remonstrance, and even Gudrid forgot her fears in
the interest of preparing a supply of food for Jon
during his absence. They slept soundly for a few
hours; and then, at two o'clock in the morning,
when the sun was already shining on the snowy
tops of the Arne Mountains, Jon hung the bag of
provisions over his shoulder, kissed his parents and
sister, and started northward, driving the sheep
before him.
IN a couple of hours he reached the farthest
point of the valley which he had ever visited, and
all beyond was an unknown region. But the
scenery, as he went onward, was similar in charac-
ter. The mountains were higher and more abrupt,
the river more rapid and foamy, and the patches
of grass more scanty-that was all the difference.
It was the Arctic summer, and the night brought
no darkness ; yet he knew when the time for rest
came, by watching the direction of the light on
the black mountains above. When the sheep lay
down, he sought a sheltered place under a rock,
and slept also.
Next day, the country grew wilder and more for-

bidding. Sometimes there was hardly a blade of
grass to be seen for miles, and he drove the sheep
at full speed, running and shouting behind them,
in his eagerness to reach the distant pasture which
Eyvindur had described. In the afternoon, the
valley appeared to come suddenly to an end. The
river rushed out of a deep cleft between the rocks,
only a few feet wide, on the right hand; in front
there was a long stony slope, reaching so high that
the clouds brushed along its summit. In the bot-
tom there was some little grass, but hardly enough
to feed the flock for two days.
Jon was disappointed, but not much discouraged.
He tethered Thor securely to a rock, knowing that
the other sheep would remain near him, and set
out to climb the slope. Up and up he toiled; the
air grew sharp and cold; there was snow and ice
in the shaded hollows on either side, and the dark,
strange scenery of Iceland grew broader below him.
F ,-ii. he gained the top; and now, for the first
time, felt that he had found a new world. In front,
toward the north, there was a plain stretching as
far as he could see; on the right and left there
were groups of dark, frightful, inaccessible mount-
ains, between the sharp peaks of which sheets of
blue ice plunged downward like cataracts, only
they were silent and motionless. The valley be-
hind him was a mere cleft in the stony, lifeless
world; his sheep were little white dots, no bigger,
apparently, than flowers of life-everlasting. He
could only guess, beyond the dim ranges in the
distance, where his father's dwelling lay; and, for a
single moment, the thought came into his mind and
made him tremble -should he ever see it again ?
The pasture, he reflected, must be sought for in
the direction from which the river came. Follow-
ing the ridge to the eastward, it was not long before
he saw a deep basin, a mile in diameter, opening
among the hills. The bottom was quite green, and
there was a sparkle here and there, where the river
wound its way through it. This was surely the
place, and Jon felt proud that he. had so readily
discovered it. There were several glens which fur-
nished easy paths down from the table-land, and
he had no difficulty, the next morning, in leading
his flock over the great ridge. In fact, they skipped
up the rocks as if they knew what was coming, and
did not wait for Jon to show them the way into the

The first thing the boy did, after satisfying him-
self that the sheep were not likely to stray away
from such excellent pasturage, was to seek for a
cave or hollow among the rocks, where he could
find shelter from storms. There were several such
places; he selected the most convenient, which
had a natural shelf for his store of provisions, and,
having dried enough grass to make a warm, soft




bed, he found himself very comfortably established.
For three or four days, he was too busy to feel his
loneliness. The valley belonged to nobody; so
he considered it his own property, and called it
Gudridsdale, after his sister. Then, in order to
determine the boundaries of this new estate, he
climbed the heights in all directions, and fixed the
forms of every crag and hollow firmly in his mem-
ory. He was not without the secret hope that he
might come upon some strange and remarkable
object,-a deserted house, a high tree, or a hot
fountain shooting up jets like the Great Geyser,-
but there was nothing. Only the black and stony
wilderness near at hand, and a multitude of snowy
peaks in the distance.
Thus ten days passed. The grass was not yet
exhausted, the sheep grew fat and lazy, and Jon
had so thoroughly explored the neighborhood of
the valley that he could have found his way in the
dark. He knew that there were only barren, un-
inhabitable regions to the right and left; but the
great, bare table-land stretching to the northward
was a continual temptation, for there were human
settlements beyond. As he wandered farther and
farther in that direction, he found it harder to re-
turn; there was always a ridge in advance, the
appearance of a mountain pass, the sparkle of a
little lake-some promise of something to be seen
by going just a little beyond his turning-point.
'He was so careful to notice every slight feature of
the scenery,-a jutting rock here, a crevice there,
-in case mist or rain should overtake him on the
way, that the whole region soon became strangely
Jon's desire to explore the road leading to the
northward grew so strong, that he at last yielded
to it. But first he made every arrangement for
the safety of the sheep during his absence. He
secured the ram Thor by a long tether and an
abundance of cut grass, concealed the rest of his
diminishing supply of provisions; climbed the near-
est heights and overlooked the country on all sides
without discovering a sign of life, and then, after a
rest which was more like a waking dream than a
slumber, began his strange and solitary journey.
The sun had just become visible .again, low in
the north-east, when he reached the level of the
table-land. There were few clouds in the sky, and
but little wind blowing; yet a singular brownish
haze filled the air, and spots of -strong light soon
appeared on either side of the sun. Jon had often
seen these mock suns before ; they are frequent
in northern latitudes, and are supposed to denote
a change in the weather. This phenomenon, and
a feeling of heaviness in the air, led him to study
the landmarks very keenly and cautiously as he
advanced. In two or three hours he had passed

the limits of his former excursions; and now, if a
storm should arise, his very life might depend on
his being able to find the way back.
During the day, however, there was no change
in the weather. The lonely, rugged mountains,
the dark little lakes of melted snow lying at their
feet, the stony plain, with its great irregular fissures
where the lava had cracked in cooling,-all these
features of the great central desert of Iceland lay
hard and clear before his eyes. Like all persons
who are obliged to measure time without a watch
or clock, he had a very correct sense of the hours
of the day, and of the distances he walked from
point to point. Where there was no large or
striking object near at hand, he took the trouble to
arrange several stones in a line pointing to the next
landmark behind him, as a guide in case of fog.
It was an exciting, a wonderful day in his life,
and Jon never forgot it. He never once thought
of the certain danger which he incurred. Instead
of fear, he was full of a joyous, inspiring courage;
he sang and shouted aloud, as some new peak or
ridge of hills arose far in front, or some other peak,
already familiar, went out of sight far behind him.
He scarcely paused to eat or rest, until nearly twelve
hours had passed, and he had walked fully thirty
miles. By that time the sun was low in the west,
and barely visible through the gathering haze.
The wind moaned around the rocks with a dreary,
melancholy sound, and only the cry of a wild swan
was heard in the distance. To the north the
mountains seemed higher, but they were divided
by deep gaps which indicated the commencement
of valleys. There, perhaps, there might be run-
ning streams, pastures, and the dwellings of men !
Jon had intended to return to his flock on the
morrow, but now the temptation to press onward
for another day became very great. His limbs,
however, young and strong as they were, needed
some rest; and he speedily decided what to do
next. A lighter streak in the rocky floor of the
plain led his eye toward a low, broken peak-in
reality, the crater of a small, extinct volcano-some
five miles off, and lying to the right of what he
imagined to be the true course. On the left there
were other peaks, but immediately in front nothing
which would serve as a landmark. The crater,
therefore, besides offering him some shelter in its
crevices, was decidedly the best starting-point,
either for going on or returning. The lighter color
of the rock came from some different mixture in
the lava of an old eruption, and could easily be
traced throughout the whole intervening distance.
He followed it rapidly, now that the bearings were
laid down, and reached the ruins of the volcano a
little after sunset.
There was no better bed to be found than the




bottom of a narrow cleft, where the winds, after
blowing for many centuries, had deposited a thin
layer of sand. Before he lay down, Jon arranged
a line of stones, pointing toward the light streak
across the plain, and another line giving the direc-
tion of the valleys to the northward. To the latter
he added two short, slanting lines at the end, form-
ing a figure like an arrow-head, and then, highly
satisfied with his ingenuity, lay down in the crevice
to sleep. But his brain was so excited that for a

long time he could do nothing else than go over,
in memory, the day's journey. The wind seemed
to be rising, for it whistled like a tremendous fife
through the rocky crevice; father and mother and
Gudrid seemed to be far, far away, in a different
land; he wondered, at last, whether he was the
same Jon Sigurdson who drove the flock of sheep
up the valley of the Thi6rvi-and then, all at once,
he stopped wondering and thinking, for he was too
soundly asleep to dream even of a roasted potato.

(To be continued.)


BY E. M. S.

'T WAS Christmas in a Southern town,
The air was soft and sweet,
And the sinking sun looked brightly down
On the gay and crowded street,
While roses and violets blooming near
Made my little girl say, "Is it Christmas here?

"At home the snow is on the ground,
The air is cold and clear,
And greens and holly are hung around,
To help the Christmas cheer.
How can St. Nicholas come in his sleigh,
If all the snow is melted away?

" What will he do with his big fur coat,
The icicles on his hair?
The tinkling bells wont sound a note,
With no Jack Frost in the air.
'T would just be folly, O mother dear!
To hang up my stocking-no Christmas here !"

But I said, I see the Christmas star
High in these Southern skies,
And the Christmas light is streaming far,
And shines in the people's eyes.
I'm sure St. Nick will find the way
Without Jack Frost and the reindeer sleigh."

Early my little girl went to bed,
That the night might shorter seem;
And scarce had she pillowed her curly head,
Than she dreamed a beautiful dream,
And wondrous music seemed to bear
A message of joy on the balmy air.

Nearer and nearer it seemed to come,
Sweeter and sweeter it grew,
Till the Christmas light was in the room,
And the Christmas glory too;
While the angels' song rang from the sky,-
"All glory be to God on high "

"All glory be to God on high,
And peace, good-will on earth! "
Thus joyous rose the angels' cry,
To hail Our Saviour's birth;-
And ere the radiance passed away,
The light had dawned on Christmas-day.

. -- .




(A Hoosier Fairy Story.)


--- :ou think that folks in
fine clothes are the only
'-:- -- folks that ever see fair-
ies, and that poor folks
can't afford them. But
in the days of the real
old-fashioned "Green
Jacket and White Owl's
Feather fairies, it was
the poor boy carrying
faggots to the cabin of
Si his widowed mother who
saw wonders of all sorts
wrought by the little
S'.___ people; and it was the
-., ---' poor girl who had a fairy
.- : godmother. It must
be confessed that the
S _-' .-- mystery-working, dew-
drop dancing, wand-
waving, pumpkin-met-
amorphosing little rascals have been spoiled of late
years by being admitted into fine houses. Having
their pictures painted by artists, their praises sung
by poets, their adventures told in gilt-edge books,
and, above all, getting into the delicious leaves of
ST. NICHOLAS, has made them stuck up," so that
it is not the poor girl in the cinders, nor the boy
with a bundle of faggots now, but girls who wear
button boots and tie-back skirts, and boys with
fancy waists and striped stockings, that are be-
friended by fairies whom they do not need.
But away off from the cities there still live a race
of unflattered fairies who are not snobbish, and who
love little girls and boys in pinafores and ragged
jackets. These sprites are not very handsome, and
so the artists do not draw their pictures, and they
do not get into gilt-edge Christmas books. Dear,
ugly, good fairies I hope they will not be spoiled
by my telling you something about them.
Little Bobby Towpate saw some of them; and it's
about Bobby, and the fairies he saw, that I want
to speak. Bobby was the thirteenth child in a rather
large family-there were three younger than he.
He lived in a log cabin on the banks of a stream,
the right name of which is Indian Kentucky
Creek." I suppose it was named Indian Ken-
tucky" because it is not in Kentucky, but in Indi-
ana; and as for Indians, they have been gone many
a day. The people always call it "The Injun

Kaintuck." They tuck up the name to make it
Bobby was only four years and three-quarters
old, but he had been in pantaloons for three years
and a half, for the people in the Indian Kaintuck
put their little boys into breeches as soon as they
can walk-perhaps a little before. And such
breeches! The little white-headed fellows look
like dwarf grandfathers, thirteen hundred years of
age. They go toddling about like old men who
have grown little again, and forgotten everything
they ever knew.
But Bobby Towpate was not ugly. Under his
white hair, which "looked every way for Sunday,"
were blue eyes and ruddy cheeks, and a mouth as
pretty as it was solemn. The comical little fellow
wore an unbleached cotton shirt, and tattered pant-
aloons, with home-made suspenders or gallowses."
The pantaloons had always been old, I think, for
they were made out of a pair of his father's-his
"daddy's," as he would have told you-and no-
body ever knew his father to have a new pair, so
they must have been old from the beginning. For
in the Indian Kaintuck country 1..il..; I ever seems
to be new. Bobby Towpatc himself was born
looking about a thousand years old, and had aged
some centuries already. As for hat, he wore one
of his daddy's old hats when he wore any, and it
would have answered well for an umbrella if it had
not been ragged.
Bobby's play-ground was anywhere along the
creek in the woods. There were so many children
that there was nobody to look after him; so he just
kept a careful eye on himself, and that made it all
right. As he was not a very energetic child, there
was no danger of his running into mischief. In-
deed, he never ran at all. He was given to sitting
down on the ground and listening to the crazy
singing of the loons-birds whose favorite amuse-
ment consists in trying to see which can make the
most hideous noise. Then, too, he would watch
the stake-drivers flying along the creek, with their
long, ugly necks sticking out in front of them, and
their long, ugly legs sticking out behind them, and
their long, ugly wings sticking out on each side of
them. They never seemed to have any bodies at
all. People call them stake-drivers because their
musical voices sound like the driving of a stake:
"Ke-wack! ke-wack! They also call them "Fly-
up-the-creeks," and plenty of ugly names besides.
nae esds




It was one sleepy summer afternoon that Bobby
sat on the root of a beech-tree, watching a stake-
driver who stood in the water as if looking for his
dinner of tadpoles, when what should the homely
bird do but walk right out on the land and up to
Bobby. Bobby then saw that it was not a stake-
driver, but a long-legged, long-necked, short-bodied
gentleman, in a black bob-tail coat. And yet his
long, straight nose did look like a stake-driver's
beak, to be sure. He was one of the stake-driver
fairies, who live in the dark and lonesome places
along the creeks in the Hoosier country. They
make the noise that you hear, "Ke-whack! ke-
whack!" It is the driving of stakes for the pro-
tection of the nests of their friends the cat-fish.
"Good-morning, Bobby, ke-whack said the
long, slim gentleman, nodding his head. He said
ke-whack after his words because that is the polite
thing to do among the stake-driver fairies.
My name haint Bobby Ke-whack, nur nothing, "
answered Bobby. The people on Indian Kaintuck
say "nor ji..rh.; '' without meaning anything by
it. "My name haint on'y jeth Bob, an' nothing'
But the slender Mr. Fly-up-the-creek only nodded
and said ke-whack two, or three times, by way of
clearing his throat.
"May be you'd like to see the folks underground,
ke-whack," he added presently. "If you would,
I can show you the door and how to unlock it. It's
right under the next cliff, ke-whack! If you get
the door open, you may go in and find the Sleepy-
headed People, the Invisible People, and all the
rest, ke-whack !"
Ke-whack! said Bob, mimicking, and grin-
ning till he showed his row of white milk-teeth.
But the gentleman stake-driver must have been
offended, for he walked away into the water and
disappeared among the willows, saying, Ke-
whack ke-whack in an indignant way at every
When once the stake-driver fairy had gone, Bob
was troubled. He was lonesome. He had always
been lonesome, because the family was so large.
There is never any company for a body where
there are so many. Now Bob wished that Ole
Ke-whack," as he called him, had not walked off
into the willows in such a huff. He would like to
see who lived under the ground, you know. After
awhile, he thought he would go and look for the
door under the cliff. Bobby called it "clift," after
the manner of the people on the Indian Kaintuck.
Once under the cliff, he was a long time searching
around for a door. At last, he found a something
that looked like a door in the rock. He looked to
see if there was a latch-string, for the houses in the
Indian Kaintuck are opened with latch-strings.
VOL. III.-13.

But he could not find one. Then he said to him-
self (for Bobby, being a lonesome boy, talked to
himself a great deal) words like these:
Ole Ke-whack thed he knowed wharabout the
key mout be. The time I went down to Madison,
to market with mammy, I theed a feller dretht up
to kill come along and open hith door with a iron
thing. That mout be a key. Wonder ef I can't
find it mythelf! There, I come acrost the hole
what it goeth into."
He had no trouble in coming acrost" the key
itself, for he found it lying on the ground. He
took it up, looked at it curiously, and said: "Thith
thing muth be a key." So he tried to put it into
the key-hole, but an unexpected difficulty met him.
Every time he tried to put in the key, the key-hole,
which before was in easy reach, ran up so far that
he could not get to it. He picked up some loose
stones and piled them up against the door, and

I' *



stood on them on his tip-toes, but still the key-hole
shot up out of his reach. At last, he got down
exhausted, and sat down on the pile of stones he
had made, with his back to the door. On looking
round, he saw that the key-hole was back in its old
place, and within a few inches of his head. He
turned round suddenly and made a dive at it, with
the key held in both hands, but the key-hole shot
up like a rocket, until it was just out of his reach.
After trying to trap this key-hole in every way



I ;'
rtll i



I ,


he could, he sat down on a stone and looked at it
a minute, and then said very slowly: "Well, I
never That beats me all holler What a funny
thing a key-hole muth be."
At last, he noticed another key-hole in the rock,
not far away, and concluded to try the key in that.
The key went in without trouble, and Bob turned
it round several times, until the iron key had turned
to brass in his hands.
"The blamed thing ith turning' yaller cried
little Towpate. You must excuse Bob's language.
You might have talked in the same way if you had
been so lucky as to be born on the Indian Kain-
Seeing that he could not open anything by turn-
ing the key round in this key-hole, since there was
no door here, he thought he would now try what
luck he might have with the yaller" key in open-
ing the door. The key-hole might admit a brass
key. But what was his amazement to find on try-
ing, that the key-hole which had run upward from
an iron key, now ran down toward the bottom of
the door. He pulled away the stones and stooped
down till his head was near the ground, but the
key-hole disappeared off the bottom of the door.
When he gave up the chase it returned as before.
Bobby worked himself into a great heat trying to
catch it, but it was of no use.
Then he sat down again and stared at the door,
and again he said slowly: "Well, I never, in all
my born 'd days That beats me all holler What
a thing a key-hole ith! But that feller in town
did n't have no trouble."
After ll r!l;, i awhile he looked at the key, and
came to the conclusion that, as the key-hole went
up from an iron key, and down from a brass one,
that if he had one half-way between, he should
have no trouble. Thith key ith too awful yaller,"
he said. "I'll put it back and' turn it half-way
black, and then we'll thee."
So he stuck it into the key-hole and tried to turn
it in the opposite direction to the way he had turned
it before. But it would not turn to the left at all.
So he let go and stood off looking at it awhile,
when, to his surprise, the key began turning to the
right of its own accord. And as it turned it grew
whiter, until it was a key of pure silver.
Purty good for you, ole hoss," said Bob, as he
pulled out the bright silver key. We 'l thee if
you're any better'n the black one and the yaller
But neither would the silver one open the door;
for the key-hole was as much afraid of it as of the
brass one and the iron one. Only now it neither
went up nor down, but first toward one side of the
door and then toward the other, according to the
way in which the key approached it. Bobby, after

awhile, went at it straight from the front, where-
upon the key-hole divided into two parts-the one
half running off the door to the right, the other to
the left.
"Well, that'th ahead of my time," said Bob.
But he was by this time so much amused by the
changes in the key and the antics of the nimble
key-hole, that he did not care much whether the
door opened or not. He waited until he had seen
the truant key-hole take its place again, and then
he took the silver key back to the other key-hole.
As soon as he approached it the key leaped out of
his hand, took its place in the key-hole, and began
to turn swiftly round. When it stopped the silver
had become gold.
"Yaller again, by hokey," said Bob. And he
took the gold key and went back, wondering what


S .- ,

-- i.


j~- //? 5~

the key-hole would do now. But there was now
no key-hole. It had disappeared entirely.
Bob stood off and looked at the place where it
had been, let his jaw drop a little in surprise and
disappointment, and came out slowly with this:
"Well, I never, in all my born'd days "
He thought best now to'take the key back and
have it changed once more. But the other key-
hole was gone too. Not knowing what to do, he
returned to the door and put the key up where
the nimble key-hole had been, whereupon it re-
appeared, the gold key inserted itself, and the door
opened of its own accord.
Bob eagerly tried to enter, but there stood some-
body in the door, blocking the passage.
"Hello said Bob. "You here, Ole Ke-whack?
How did you get in ? By the back door, I 'low."





"Put my yellow waistcoat back where you got
it, ke-whack!" said the stake-driver, shivering.
" It's cold in here, and how shall I go to the party
without it, ke-whack "
Your yaller wescut ?" said Bob. "I haint got
no wescut, ke-whack or no ke-whack."
"You must put that away said the fly-up-the-
creek, pecking his long nose at the gold key. Ke-
whack ke-whack "
Oh! said Towpate, "why did n't you say so ?"
Then he tossed the gold key down on the ground,
where he had found the iron one, but the key stood
straight up, waving itself to and fro, while Bobby
came out with his drawling: Well, I never "
"Pickitup! Pickitup! Ke-whack! You've
pitched my yellow waistcoat into the dirt, ke-whack,
ke-whack! "
Oh You call that a wescut, do you. Well, I
never And Bobby picked up the key, and since
he could think of no place else to put it, he put it
into the key-hole, upon which it unwound itself to
the left till it was silver. Bobby, seeing that the
key had ceased to move, pulled it out and turned
toward the open door to see the stake-driver wear-
ing a yellow vest, which he was examining with
care, saying, "Ke-whack, ke-whack," as he did so.
" I knew you'd get spots on it, ke-whack, throwing
it on the ground that way."
Poor Bobby was too much mystified by this con-
fusion between the gold key and the yellow vest, or
"wescut," as they call it on the Indian Kaintuck,
to say anything.
"Now, my white coat, put that back, ke-whack,"
said the fly-up-the-creek fairy. "I can't go to the
party in my shirt sleeves, ke-whack."
"I haint got your coat, Ole Daddy Longlegs,"
said Bobby, "'less you mean this key."
On this suspicion he put the key back, upon
which it again unwound itself to the left and be-
came brass. As soon as Bobby had pulled out the
brass key and turned round, he saw that the fairy
was clad in a white coat, which, with his stunning
yellow vest, made him cut quite a figure.
"Now, my yellow cap," said the stake-driver,
adding a cheerful ke-whack or two, and Bobby
guessed that he was to put the brass key in the
key-hole, whereupon it was immediately turned
round by some unseen power until it became iron,
aid then thrown out on the ground where Bobby
Towpate had found it at first. Sure enough, the
fairy now wore a yellow cap, and, quick as thought,
he stepped out to where the key was lying, and
struck it twice with his nose, whereupon it changed
to a pair of three-toed boots, which he quickly drew
on. Then he turned and bowed to Bobby, and
Ke-whack! You've ironed my coat and vest,

and brushed my cap and blacked my boots. Good-
day, ke-whack, I'm going to the party. You can
go in if you want to."
Bobby stood for some time, looking after him as
he flew away along the creek, crying ke-whack,
ke-whack, ke-whack!" And Bobby said once
again: "Well, I never, in all my born'd days,"
and then added, Haint Daddy Longlegs peart?
Thinks he's some in his yaller wescut, I 'low."
When once the fly-up-the-creek had gone out of
sight and out of hearing, Bobby started on his
search for the Sleepy-headed People. He traveled
along a sort of underground gallery or cave, until
he came to a round basin-like place. Here he
found people who looked like fat little boys and
girls, rather than men and women. They were
lolling round in a ring, while one of the num-
ber read drowsily from a big book which was lying
on a bowlder in the middle of this Sleepy-hollow.
All seemed to be looking and listening intently.
But as soon as those who sat facing Bobby caught
sight of him, they gave a long yawn and fell into a
deep sleep. One after another they looked at him,
and one after another the little round, lazy fellows
gaped, until it seemed their heads would split open,
then fell over and slept soundly, snoring like little
pigs. Bobby stood still with astonishment. He
did not even find breath to say, Well, I never "
For presently every one of the listeners had gone
off to sleep. The reader, whose back was toward
the new-comer, did not see him. He was the only
one left awake, and Bobby looked to see him drop
over at any moment. But the little fat man read
right along in a drawling, sleepy mumble, some-
thing about the Athenians until Bob cried out:
"Hello, Ole Puddin-bag, everybody'th gone to
thleep; you'd jeth ath well hole up yer reading'
The little man rolled his eyes round upon Bob,
and said: "Oh, my! I'm gone off again !" And
then he stretched his fat cheeks in an awful yawn.
"Hey! You'll never get that mouth of your'n
shet, ef you don't be mighty keerful," cried Bob;
but the fellow was fast asleep before he could get
the words out.
"Well now, that'th a purty looking' crowd, haint
it?" said Bob, looking round upon the sleepers.
Just at that moment they began to wake up, one
after another, but as soon as they saw Bob, they
sighed and said: "He's so curious," or, "He's
so interesting," or something of the sort, and fell
away into a deep slumber again. At last, Bob un-
dertook to wake some of them up by hallooing, but
the more noise he made, the more soundly they
slept. Then he gave over shaking them and shout-
ing at them, and sat down. As soon as he was
quiet, they began to wake up again.




Hello cried Bob, when he saw two or three
of them open their eyes.
"If you'd only keep still till I get awake," said
one of them, and then they all went to sleep again.
By keeping quite still, he got them pretty well
waked up. Then they all fell to counting their
toes, to keep from becoming too much interested
in Bobby, for just so sure as they get interested or
excited, the Sleepy-headed People fall asleep.
Presently the reader awoke, and began to mumble

"I know a better thtory than that air!" said
Bobby, growing tired of the long, mumbling read-
ing of the dull book.
Do you ? Tell it," said the reader.
So Bobby began to tell them some of his advent-
ures, upon which they all grew interested and fell
Don't tell any more like that," said the little
reader, when he awoke.
"What'th the matter weth it? Heap better

Ii i

i 1''1r I



a lot of stuff out of the big book, about Epaminon-
das, and Sesostris, and Cyaxeres, and Clearchus,
and the rest, and they all grew a little more wake-
ful. When he came to an account of a battle,
Bobby began to be interested a little in the story,
but all the others yawned and cried out, "Read
across, read across !" and the reader straightway
read clear across the page, mixing the two columns
into hopeless nonsense, so as to destroy the interest.
Then they all waked up again.

thtory than that big book that you're a mumblin'
over, Mr. Puddin'."
"We don't like interesting stories," said the
sleepy reader. "They put us to sleep. This is
the best book in the world. It's Rollin's Ancient
History, and it has n't got but a few interesting
spots in the whole of it. Those we keep sewed up,
so that we can't read them. The rest is all so nice
and dull, that it keeps us awake all day."
Bobby stared, but said nothing.




Can you sing ?" said one of the plump little old
"Yeth, I can thing Dandy Jim."
"Let's have it. I do love singing; it soothes me
and keeps me awake."
Thus entreated, little Bobby stood up and sang
one verse of a negro song he had heard, which ran:
"When de preacher took his tex'
He look so berry much perplex',
Fur nothing' come across his mine
But Dandy Jim from Caroline!"

Bobby shut his eyes tight, and threw his head
back and sang through his nose, as he had seen
big folks do. He put the whole of his little soul
into these impressive words. When he had finished
and opened his eyes to discover what effect his
vocal exertions had produced, his audience was of
course fast asleep.
"Well, I never," said Bob.
The tune's too awful lively," said the little old
woman, when she woke up. "You ought to be
ashamed of yourself. Now, hear me sing." And
she began, in a slow, solemn movement, the most
drawling tune you ever heard, and they all joined
in the same fashion:
"Poor old Pidy,
She died last Friday;
Poor old creetur,
The turkey-buzzards--

But before they could finish the line, while they
were yet hanging to the tails of the turkey-buzzards,
so to speak, Bobby burst out with:
"La! that'th the toon the old cow died on. I
would n't thing that."
You wouldn't, hey ?" said the woman, getting
"No, I would n't, little dumplin'."
Whereupon the little woman got so mad that she
went fast asleep, and the reader, growing interested
and falling into a doze, tumbled off his chair on his
head, but as his head was quite soft and puttyish,
it did him no particular harm, except that the fall
made him sleep more soundly than ever.
When they had waked up again Bobby thought
it time to move on, but as soon as he offered to
move, the sleepy-heads surrounded him and began
to sing a drawling song, which made Bobby sleepy.
He soon found that they meant to make him one
of themselves, and this was not at all to his taste.
He struggled to get away, but something held him
about the feet. What should he do?
Suddenly a bright thought came to his relief.
The sleepy-heads were now all standing in a ring
around him. He began to tell a story at the top
of his voice:
My gr'an'pappy, he fit weth a red Injun. An'

the Injun he chopped my gran'pappy's finger off
weth his tomahawk, and "
But at this point all the little people got intensely
excited over Bobby's gran'pappy's fight, and so, of
course, fell asleep and fell forward into a pile on
top of Bobby, who had an awful time getting out
from under the heap. Just as he emerged, the
people began to wake up and to lay hold of his
feet,, but Bobby screamed out:
"And my gran'pappy, he up weth his hatchet
andhe split the nasty ole red Injun's head open-"
They were all fast asleep again.
Bobby now ran off toward the door, not caring
to go any further underground at present, though
he knew there were other wonders beyond. He
reached the door at last, but it was closed. There
was no key-hole even.
After looking around a long time he found the
Fly-up-the-creek fairy, not far from the door, sitting
by a fire, with a large, old owl sitting over against
Give me the key to the door, Ole Ke-whack! "
said Bobby.
Oh, no I will not give you my clothes, ke-
whack Do you think I would give you my party
clothes? If you had n't sung so loud, the door
wouldn't have shut. You scared it. Now, I can't
give you my fine clothes, and so you'll have to stay
Poor Bobby sat down by the fire, not knowing
what to do.
"Tell him about the Sleepy-headed People,"
said the owl to Bobby, solemnly.
Shut up, old man, or I'll bite your head off! "
said the Fly-up-the creek to the owl.
Do as I say," said the owl. If you stay here,
you'll turn to an owl or a bat. Be quick. The
Sleepy-heads are his cousins-he does n't like to
hear about them."
"Don't mind a word the old man says, ke-
Give me the key, then," said Bobby.
"Do as I say," said the owl.
The Fly-up-the-creek tried to bite off the owl's
head, but the old man hopped out of his way.
Bobby began to tell the story of his adventures
among the Sleepy-heads, and the stake-driver
began to cry, "Ke-whack, ke-whack!" to drown
his words, but as Bobby went on, the stake-driver's
voice became weaker and weaker. Bobby was so
amazed that he stopped.
"Go on cried the owl, or you 'll never get
out, or I either."
So Bobby kept up his talk until the stake-driver
was lying senseless on the floor.
Put the key in the lock, quick," cried the owl.
"Where is the key ? "





"His fine clothes. Take them off, quick! Cap
first "
Bobby began with the cap, then stripped off the
coat and vest and boots.
Put them in the key-hole, quick! said the
owl, for the stake-driver was reviving.
Where is the key-hole ? "
"There! There! cried the owl, pointing to
the fire. By this time the Fly-up-the-creek had
already begun to reach out for his clothes, which
Bobby hastily threw into the fire. The fire went
out, the great door near by swung open, and the

big-eyed owl, followed by Bobby, walked out, say-
ing, I'm free at last."
Somehow, in the day-light, he was not any longer
an owl, but an old man in gray clothes, who hob-
bled off down the road.
And Bobby looked after him until he saw the
stake-driver, shorn of his fine clothes, sweep over
his head and go flying up the creek again. Then
he turned toward his father's cabin, saying:
"Well, I never! Ef that haint the beatinest
thing I ever did see in all my born'd days."
And I think it was.

7_-- -;- ---~---.=

.. . .-.




THE sea was inspiring to Mr. Augustus Bonwig's
poetical feelings; and he began to declaim again,.
as he and Joe descended the ledges on the seaward
side of the island.
"'The breaking waves dashed high, on a
stern-'" But here a chasm in the rocks occa-
sioned a hiatus in the verse.
"On the stern of a ship? Joe asked.
No; 'on a stern and rock-bound coast,' said
Mr. Bonwig, as he stepped over the chasm.
But here, again, he was interrupted; this time
by Joe, who cautioned him against scaring the
ducks with his poetry.
"Now, look a here, Mister! You notice, we're
comin' to a sort of clift" (Joe meant cliff). We
can crawl right to the edge on't, and look right

down into a little inlet, where we'll be purty sure
to see suthin'."
Crawl, is it?" said the portly Mr. Bonwig,
wincing. I'm not built for crawling. But no
matter. Go ahead. I'11 sacrifice the rest of my
buttons in a good cause, if necessary."
Joe advanced to make an observation. He
reached the edge of the cliff; and presently looked
back at his companion with a laugh, and beckoned
to him. Augustus came up with him, scratching
the rocks with his remaining buttons, and looked
Here's a splendid shot!" said Joe. "Two old
wives close in shore !"
Bonwig saw with delight the pair of ducks, riding
on the swells that poured into the inlet, or tipping





up and plunging their bills down among the cool,
dark sea-moss, as the bright waves receded, leaving
it half exposed and glistening in the early sunlight.
Now," said Joe, I'm goin' to let you have all
the chance this time. I sha'n't fire at all, till you
do. Don't show yourself, nor make a noise, but
take aim right through this notch."
Bonwig obeyed; resting his ponderous stomach
on the ledge, and thrusting his gun over it, he
cocked both barrels, and took as deliberate aim as
it was possible for a highly nervous sportsman to
do, under the circumstances.
Plenty of time," said Joe.
I- know-- it; but, bless my heart how they
do- bob up and down "
The ducks were, in fact, constantly in motion,
tossing on the swells, or tipping up and darting
their bills hither and thither. Moreover, the light
on the water was very deceptive. One has to get
used to shooting at objects afloat, as Joe very justly
observed afterward.
I- I- rather think I'd better fire said Au-
gustus, in a trembling voice..
Seems to me, I would; I don't see what you're
waiting' for," Joe replied.
Mr. Bonwig fired both barrels in quick succes-
sion. The startled ducks rose quickly and quietly
from the water, as if to show a due respect for his
salute; not a feather of either being injured.
Bless my heart! said Mr. Bonwig.
You've had your chance; now it's my turn,"
said Joe.
He took aim with his old Queen's arm," fired
instantly, and brought down a bird. Then he fired
his other gun, and the other duck whirled and fell
into the sea.
"Now, I am-I am surprised! said Augustus.
"It's all a knack, as your father said; and you
have got the knack! I am surprised! "
"I '11 go down after 'em," said Joe, while you
go back and see if there aint some more ducks over
t' other side, by this time. And haul the dory a
little further up on the beach," he added, "for I'm
afraid the tide will git it; it's comin' in fast."
Bonwig went, and returned in a short time, say-
ing that he had left the dory safe, and that he had
seen no game.
Where are your old wives ? he asked.
"Have n't you been down after them yet ?"
"No," said Joe ; I'm watching' them loons,"
pointing out to sea. If you'll do jest what I tell
ye, I guess we can git 'em. Sure ye left the dory
all right?"
"Oh, yes The tide wont reach it this hour.
I don't see your loons, though," said Augustus.'
" Yes, I do! Half a mile off! How do you expect
ever to get them ?"

I'11 git down on to that ledge that runs out
into the water, and hide. Then I'll holler like a
loon, and purty soon you'll see 'em steering' right
in toward me. But if they come near enough to
find out I aint a loon, they'll stop. So, soon as
you see 'em coming you jest wave this 'ere hanker-
cher on yer ramrod, so 's to take their eye. I carry
it 'most a purpose for loons." Joe pulled a flam-
ing bandanna from his pocket, and showed Mr.
Bonwig how to manage it. "Loons is birds," he
said, that has lots of curiosity in their dispositions,
and they'll 'most generally allus come in nigh
enough to see what a wavin' red hankercher means,
so's't a feller can git a shot at 'em. Only," said
Joe, eying his friend's, gun wistfully, "it's hard
carrying' two long, heavy guns down a steep clift,
like this here; and now, if you don't care to go
down and do the shootin'-for you '11 be too fur off
up here-"
"Bless my heart i" said Augustus, looking over
the precipice, I never could get down these rocks
alive, in the world I-I--must think of my wife
and children "
"Then if you would jest lend me the loan of
your gun once," said Joe.
"Why yes-certainly," said Augustus.
"Then you wont be shooting' me, ye know,"
grinned Joe.
Leaving his companion on the top of the cliff,
he dropped over the edge of it, and, taking advan-
tage of the loons diving, slipped down from crevice
to crevice, and from shelf to shelf, until he had
made his way in safety to the bottom, and con-
cealed himself on the point of rock he had men-
tioned. Then he began to halloo like a loon, with
his hands behind his mouth to throw his voice out
to sea-uittering a wild, lonesome cry, which soon
attracted the birds' attention. They ceased their
diving, and presently began to swim toward him.
Bonwig now waved the handkerchief on the cliff,
remaining himself unseen ; and the loons, tacking
and turning occasionally, and rising and falling on
the swells, continued to approach the shore, even
after Joe had stopped calling.
Nearer and nearer they came, until Augustus
grew impatient. "Why don't he fire? Why
don't the fellow fire?" he kept saying to himself.
But Joe knew what he was about. Aware of the
difficulty of penetrating the loons' breast-feathers
with bird-shot, he wished to get them as near as
possible, and close together, or their two heads in
range, in order to double his chances. At last,
just as one was darting by the other on the top of
a wave, he fired one of Bonwig's barrels. The
nearest bird immediately went over on his side,
and began to flop and turn on the water in a way
that showed he had got a fatal hurt. His mate




was less severely wounded. She tried to dive, but
could not remain beneath the surface, and a second
shot dispatched her.
Then Joe climbed back up the rock.
"Why don't you get the old wives ?" Augustus
called to him. They're tossing about in the cove
We must bring the dory around to pick up the
loons, anyhow," said Joe, handing the gun over the
edge of the cliff, "and we can get the old wives
"Why didn't you shoot sooner?" Mr. Bonwig
"Don't you see?" said Joe. "If I had n't
wounded 'em both at once, soon as I fired at one,
t' other 'd have dove quick as wink, and most likely
I should n't have got another shot at her. They're
a terrible quick bird They '11 dodge the flash of
a gun, without you 're perty near 'em."
Well, well! you have got the knack, I declare!"
said Mr. Bonwig. I don't know but I shall have
to give in to you, after all!"
"This is a splendid gun of yourn!" said Joe,
covetously. "If I could only have this with me
alluz, then I might do suthin' But I must go for
the dory now. You stay here and watch the loons,
and perty soon you 'll see me come rowin' around
the island."
"'Now, why can't I shoot like that boy?" Bon-
wig said to himself after Joe had gone. "In the
city, he was so green everybody laughed at him.
But, bless my heart if I don't find him my supe-
rior down here I 'm afraid, if anybody deserves
to be laughed at to-day, he is n't the fellow, any-
way !"
Mr. Augustus was beginning to be sick of duck-
Hearing a cry in the direction Joe had gone, Mr.
Bonwig arose and listened. Another cry, full of
anger and distress. Augustus started to find his
young friend, whom he presently saw hurrying
back to meet him.
You critter, you !" shrieked Joe, forgetting all
deference due to his companion in the rage and
perplexity of the moment; "you old fat fool,
you "
'"Bless my heart!" said Augustus, aghast,
what's the matter?"
"Matter, you lazy lummox! don't you know
nothing? And Joe turned back again with gest-
ures of fury and despair.
"Why what on earth have I done ?" cried Mr.
Bonwig, following him, more alarmed than angry.
The dory !" said Joe, chokingly.
"Hey? what's happened to the dory?" said
Bonwig, turning pale. I left it safe !"
You did n't You said you 'd haul it up out

of reach of the tide, and you never touched it!
Now look a there !"
They had reached a commanding point of the
island, from which Augustus had the satisfaction
of seeing the little skiff afloat, and drifting quietly
and steadily out to sea.
"Bless my !-- gasped the astounded candy-
maker. "Can't ye swim and get it?"
Swim?" echoed Joe, with wrathful contempt.
"I 'd like to see any man swim for that! The
wind has got into the north-west, and it's carrying'
on her away faster 'n anybody can swim Why
did n't ye haul her up, as I told ye?"
I-really-I could n't see any necessity for it!"
said poor Mr. Bonwig. The waves did n't touch
"But I told you the tide was coming' in! And
could n't you see yourself that once in a while there
was a big swell, bigger 'n the rest 'Twas one o'
them that started her off, and then the wind took
her !"
"I am surprised!" said the pale Mr. Bonwig.
"I don't see how we are going to get off this
island! And I-I promised my wife-she 'll cer-
tainly be looking for me to-night. I must get back
"If you do, you'll have to swim." And Joe sat
down sulkily on the ledge and watched the depart-
ing dory.
"What! you don't mean-- ?"
"You'll have enough of Robinson Crusoe 'fore
you get through That dory cost my father fifteen
dollars! "
"It aint possible we shall have to stay here,"
faltered Augustus, casting his eyes about him,
and feeling not a bit like spouting poetry just then,
"and live on what we kill? "
"A feller could n't live very long on what you
kill! said Joe. I don't care for sleeping' in the
hut, I 'd jest as lieve do that as not; and I can eat
fish and wild ducks and hard bread as long as the
next chap. But, by sixty that dory! Dad 'll
skin me alive if I don't bring her back. See her
go see her go And Joe whipped his legs with
his hands despairingly. "The coots are in her,
too with a fresh wail. "And we can't get the
loons without her; and mabby we can't get the
old wives now."
"Then if no more ducks come around, what
shall we do?" said Augustus, who was a man of
excellent appetite, never careless about his dinner.
"I guess you'll have a chance to grow a little
mite less pussy 'n you be now," said Joe, beginning
to see the humor of the situation, and to get the
better of his despair.
Can't we make a signal of distress? "
"You can try it, if you want to. But dad is




huskin' corn to-day; and even if he should see it,
he'd think it was for loons. Besides, there aint
another dory to the Cove, since Old Wansey's got
stove up by the last gale; and dad could n't come
off for us if he wanted to."
"Then," said Augustus, "I don't see but that
we are in a fix "
"Jes' so," said Joe. "But now, if you want to
make a signal, I'll show you. It must be on the
highest spot, where it can be seen from shore, as
well as by fishing' boats outside."

r- -- ---- :--: -- -- ". -" -
---- :^
., *y .

-. ,-
S. r;1,
__ -_ :_ _. V ', ..

can my coat, in this wind," said Joe; and he pro-
ceeded to divest himself of that useful, but not in-
dispensable garment.
He thrust a gun-barrel into one of the sleeves at
the wrist,- and thence through the shoulders of the
shirt into the other sleeve, which he tied into a
knot over the muzzle.
"Now, there's your banner! said he, waving
it aloft.
"Well, I declare!" said Augustus, "you've
done it! Long may it wave! as Joe flourished




The thought of something to be done put Joe
into a good humor.
Here's where you was monarch of all you sur-
veyed," he said, with a grin, as they walked over
the ledges; adding, I guess the deep and dark
blue ocean will roll on fast enough for you now,
without waiting' to be told Here's the place "
"We never can make ourselves seen from this
distance," said Bonwig, with a heavy heart.
"We can try."
"But what can we make a signal of? A hand-
kerchief is nothing I"
Take my shirt,-I can spare that better than I

the pale ensign in the breeze. Though there's a
prospect of its waving long enough, without rush-
ing it particularly. But, as a signal of distress, it
seems to me there's something not quite right.
Don't they usually have the union down ? "
Shirts ha' n't got no union," said Joe. And
he began to sing: "'Tis the star-spangled banner,"
in a cheerful and enlivening manner.
Being one of those brave-hearted lads whose
spirits always rise in the presence of danger and
difficulty, and having recovered from the chagrin
of losing the dory, he was now in a merrier mood
than he had been at any time that morning.



= ~7~~-~-7
'.-- ~ ----~



It wont take long for this wind to whip a shirt
into ravelin's!" said he. "After it has flopped
mine all to pieces, then we '11 take your'n. Then,
when that's gone, we'll run up our jackets, and
then our trouse's, for we're bound to keep the sig-
nal flyin'! "
Mr. Bonwig could not see the fun of the thing,
but kept a dismal countenance, thinking of his wife
and children.
You need n't be so anxious about suthin' to
eat," remarked Joe. It '11 take you a good while
longer to starve than it would most people. My
uncle was in a ship that was lost once, and was
three weeks on a raft in the Pacific Ocean, with
seven other men, and he said three of the men
died, and all the rest come within one of it; only
there was a fat man with 'em,-weighed about two
hundred and fifty when they took to the raft,-he
stood it; he kept growing lighter an' lighter, and
fresher and fresher; he weighed about a hundred,
and was spry as a cricket when a vessel finally
picked 'em up. He had lived all the while on his
own fat; like a bear in winter."
This pleasant anecdote did not seem to afford
Mr. Bonwig very much comfort. The idea of liv-
ing on his fat for any length of time was not
cheering. He had no doubt whatever of growing
lighter and lighter on that diet; but as for growing
fresher and fresher, that did not appear to him to
be among the probabilities. No,-Mr, Augustus
Bonwig could not indulge a hope of ever becoming
spry as a cricket, in that way.
Your father must grow anxious about you, if
you don't come home; and he can find a dory
somewhere," said he.
"My father never's anxious about me when
I'm off duck-shootin'," replied Joe. Once I got
lost in a fog, rowin' from Pippin P'int. I got
turned about somehow. I kept rowin' and rowin',
but could n't find no land; and night come on,
dark as Egypt-and there I was No supper, no
north star, no compass, no overcoat,-discouragin',
I tell you I rowed all night, to keep warm, and
in hopes of touching' land somewhere -and it
was n't half so comf'table as we'll find it in that
house to-night, burnin' the Humane Society's wood
and eatin' the Humane Society's crackers, and
tellin' stories,-not half! Wal, morning' come, but

the fog did n't lift, and I did n't know where I was
any more 'n I did before; but I kept on rowin' and
rowin', only when I stopped to rest, which was
perty often now,-I was gittin' used up. No sup-
per, and no breakfast! The sea was calm; the
fog was so heavy it seemed to press it right down
flat. I could n't see more 'n an oar's length or two
ahead of me. So the forenoon wore on. By-m-by
I give up,-no supper, no breakfast, no dinner,-
it was beginning' to tell on me. You've no idee
how a feller '11 shrink, without eatin' or sleeping' for
twenty-four hours It seemed to me I'd got dad's
clo'es on. I 'd hollered myself hoarse; but in that
fog, it was like a man's hollerin' in his grave. You
need n't look so sorry; why," said Joe, this here
island, in fine weather, is paradise to an open boat
in a fog !"
"How did you finally get ashore?" asked
Wind changed, and fog lifted all of a sudden,
jest afore sundown. And where do ye s'pose I
was? Almost within gunshot o' the Cove I jest
rowed ashore, hauled up the dory, and walked into
the house. There sot dad, a-smokin', comfortable
as could be. Where's yer ducks, boy ?' says he
the fust thing. 'Did n't git none,' says I. 'Why,
where ye been all this time ?' says he; 'and ha'nt
got nary duck !' '0, paddlin' round in the fog,'
says I. 'A'nt ye hungry ?' says my mother,-she
was gittin' supper. 'Wal, I be some hungry,'
says I. And supper did taste mighty good that
night, I tell ye "
"Was n't your family concerned about you ?"'
said Mr. Bonwig.
"What was the use of bein' consarned ? There
was no gale; and they knowed I'd come home
agin some time," said Joe. "I did come home, and
I brought the dory. Dad'll be dreadful worked,
if I don't bring it this time Look it's most out
of sight "
That seems to be all you care about! "
Why should n't it be ? We '11 do well enough.
It wont be many days before somebody 'll be coming'
off here a-fishin', and see us."
Many days groaned Augustus. I'm get-
ting hungry already "
Wal," said Joe, you keep the flag a-wavin',
and I '11 go and see what I can do for dinner."

(Concleded in nexi number.)



,5~6] G TTIN UP IN T E W RLD.195



MOTHER, do butterflies remember when they
were worms and caterpillars ?'" inquired Natty.
What puzzling questions you children do ask!"
said his mother. "The idea never entered my
head. You must ask your uncle Joe.".
"Uncle Joe," asked Natty, again, "do butter-
flies remember when they were worms and cater-
pillars ? "
"Why, no," said Uncle Joe. "I should say not,
if all stories are true."
What stories?"
"I happened to be reading one the other day
which-but stay, just hand me that book, please;
the thin, square, prettily bound one. That's it.
Now we '11 look for the story. I forget the name.
Ah, here we have it. It's not a long story. Read-
ing it will hardly take ten minutes. Listen."
A poor little worm was one day crawling slowly
along the ground, seeking for food, while above
her happy insects darted through the air, their
bright wings flashing in the sunlight.
"Alas!" sighed the little worm. "What a
toilsome life is ours We move only by great labor,
and even with that can never travel far. Kept
near the damp ground, liable at any moment to be
crushed, toiling up and down rough stalks, eating
tough leaves-for it is only now and then we find a
flower. Oh, it is truly a wearisome life.
"Yet none seem to pity our sorrows. Those
proud insects flitting over head, the miller, the
butterfly, the dragon-fly, the golden bumble-bee,
they never notice us Oh, but life goes well with
them! Flying is so easy! Even easier than rest.
Wherever they wish to be, they have only to spread
their wings and the summer wind bears them on.
Dressed out so gayly, at home with all the flowers,
living on sweets, seeing fine sights, hearing all that
is to be heard, what care they for us poor plodders?
Selfish creatures They think only of themselves.
Now, for my part, if I had wings and could move
about so easily, I would think, sometimes, of the
poor worms down below, who could not fly. I
would bring them, now and then, a sip of honey,
or a taste of something nice from the flower gar-
dens, far away. I would come down and speak a
kind word, tell them something good to hear-in
short, be friendly. Oh, if one only had wings, how
much good one might do. But these selfish crea-
tures never think of that "
Not long afterward this complaining worm
was changed into a butterfly. Spreading her light

wings, she passed the happy hours in flitting from
field to field, rocking in the flower-cups, idling
about where the sunshine was brightest, sipping
where the honey was sweetest. Oh, a right gay
butterfly was she, and no summer day ever seemed
too long I
One morning, while resting upon an opening rose-
bud, she saw below, her a couple of worms, making:
their slow way over the ground.
"Poor creatures!" she said. Life goes hard
with them. Dull things, how little they know It.
must be stupid enough down there. No doubt.
their lives could be brightened up a trifle. Some.
few pleasures or comforts might be given them, and
I hope this will be done. If I were not so busy-
but really I have n't a moment to spare. To-day
there is a rose party, and all the butterflies are
going there. To-morrow the sweet-pea party comes
off, and all the butterflies are going there. Next:
day the grasshoppers give a grand hop, and at sun--
down there will be a serenade by the crickets. Every-
hour is occupied. The bumble-bees and hornets,
are getting up a concert. Then there is a new-
flower blossoming in a garden far away, and all are-
flying to see it. The two rich butterflies, Lady
Golden Spot, and Madame Royal Purple, have ar--
rived in great state, and expect great attentions.
The bees have had a lucky summer, and, in honor
of these new arrivals, are to give a grand honey
festival, at which the queen herself will preside.
The wasps are on the police, and will, I trust, keep-
out the vulgar. The gnats and mosquitoes have
formed a military company, called the flying militia,
and will serve, if needed. It is to be hoped that.
no low creatures, like the two creeping along below,
will intrude themselves. Poor things If I had
the time, I really would try to do something for
them, but every sunny day is taken up, and stirring
out in the wet is not to be thought of.
"Besides, one meets with so much that is not
pleasant in mixing with low people Their homes.
are not always cleanly. I might soil my wings.
And if once taken notice of, they will always ex-
pect it. Why make them dissatisfied? They are
well enough off, as they are. Perhaps, after all, it
is my duty not to meddle with them. In fact, I
have no doubt of it.
Here comes Miss Gossamer Welcome, Miss.
Gossamer! All ready for the rose party ? How
sweetly you look Wait one moment till I have
washed my face in this dew-drop. The sun has;





nearly dried it up while I have been pitying those
mean worms below there. Folly, I know, to thus
waste the time. But my feelings are so tender I
actually thought of calling! What would Lady
Golden Spot think, or Madame Royal Purple!

Have you seen them pass? They are sure to be
there. Do you suppose they will take notice of
us? If they don't, I shall be perfectly wretched.
Come, dear Miss Gossamer, one more sip, and
then away I "


By D. F. H.

* t- NLY two days before New Year's!
It should be a happy time for me;
but when I think of all the good
resolutions made this time last
year, and so few of them kept, I
can only feel sorry, and think I
have wasted much precious time.
One resolution was to help the
S-poor, not only with kind words,
but with substantial acts of boun-
ty. And how little I have really
j' All this I thought, sitting in my
easy-chair, before one of the most
cheerful and comfortable of fires
-an open grate, the coals all red hot. I had been
very busy all day, but was only waiting for the
sleigh, to go out and finish some holiday shopping.
I had written for some little children to come and
spend a week with me at this time, and had asked
my aunt also to make one of the party, knowing
how delighted the children would be to find her
here to meet them, for she is an especial favorite
of the little ones. The chair and the fire were both
so luxurious, the heat of the room so delightful, and
the cold wind and the snow both so uninviting, that
I hesitated about venturing out. But, then, the
toys and the last things-that lovely doll for Addie,
that little set of doll's jewelry for little Effie, and
quantities of other things-all must be bought.
Then some good warm clothing for poor Mrs.
Rooney, with her five children.
If you please, ma'am, the sleigh is at the door."
My wrappings were on in a moment, and I was soon
gliding along, wrapped up well in the warm robes,
and listening to the merry bells, jingling as we hur-
ried along.
As we were driving through one of the poorer
parts of the town, John the coachman said to me:
" You told me, ma'am, to let you know of any very

poor people I might hear of. There is a poor
woman they told me about to-day, and if you wish
to see her, I know where she lives-not far from
I was hurried, having put off going out until
late in the day; but here was a chance of doing a
little good during this blessed holiday-time; so I
asked John to drive to the woman's house.
How busy every one seemed to be So many
happy-looking people, all eager about something,
which I could not help thinking was shopping. As
we drove along, we passed groups of happy chil-
dren, and, thank Heaven- I saw very few who
looked poor. We were leaving the better class of
even poor-looking houses, and at last came to a
miserable-looking street or alley-for John could
not drive near the door of the house he pointed out
to me as the one I was looking for.
I should not have said house-that implies com-
fort, or at least shelter. The shanty-for it was
nothing more-seemed almost to be tumbling
down. It had a really ragged appearance. The
window was very small, and several panes were
out; and in these places were bits of old cloth,
paper, or anything that could be found to keep out
some of the bitterly cold wind.
I knocked, and hardly heard the feeble "Come
in." My heart sank at what I saw. A poor wo-
man, looking like the house-ragged-sitting on a
broken stool before an old stove. Poor thing! I
suppose she thought there was a little heat there;
but indeed, when I went near it, I could not feel
the least. She was leaning over, her elbows on
her knees, and her head in her hands; and when
she looked up at me, I saw she had been crying.
There seemed to be nothing in the room but the
woman, the stove, an old broken chair, the stool
upon which she sat, and a bed in the corner. She
did not speak, and I hardly knew what to say;
but at last I told her I had heard she was in need,





and I came to do anything I could for her. Her
looks of gratitude I can never forget.
"You needn't think of me-only do something,
if you can, for Tom; that's all I ask."
For Tom," I said-" your husband ?"
No, ma'am-my boy there, in bed."
I went to the corner where the bed was, and
there saw this sad sight : A little boy, about seven
or eight years old, was lying there, asleep; but
such a look of suffering in his poor white face-I
could hardly look at him.
What is the matter? Is he ill ? I asked.
"Yes, ma'am, he is ill-he has a fever; but
that is not the worst-he is lame. His father died
when Tom was a little baby. I did very well for a
time. I took in sewing, and some ladies were very
kind to me. But at last one day, when Tom was
six years old, playing with some rough boys, he
was thrown down, and his hip put out of place.
They brought him to me helpless, and so he has
been ever since. I had a little money, which kept us
for a few months from want. A doctor, who came,
sent by one of the ladies who had helped me, did
all he could for him, but at last he told me Tom
could not be cured. God forgive me but I could
not help thinking, if I could only pay him well,
he might have done something for him."
Here was a most pitiful state of things. The
poor woman went on to tell me that she was com-
pletely discouraged. She had tried everything.
She could not leave the poor boy for any length
of time, so could not go out by the day to work.
And now she was utterly without food or work,
and almost in despair.
What should I do first? Where so much was
to be done, what was the most important thing to
do? We must have a fire at once." So giving
her a little money, I told her to go and get some
wood, promising to sit by Tom until she returned.
I placed the stool by his bed, and the woman went
out. My mind seemed almost paralyzed. I looked
at the poor little face before me, so wan and worn,
in all the rags and.dirt (for everything was dirty,
but I could not blame the woman). He looked as
though he really was a pretty child.
I was thinking very intently, when all at once a
light seemed to fill the room. I turned toward the
door, expecting to see the mother returning, but
the door was not open-only it seemed there was
no need of its being open; for coming through it,
there were quantities of the tiniest people I ever

saw. And how busy they all were They did not
seem to glance at me; they were tugging some-
thing in with which they were having a great deal
of trouble.
What can it be? A stove! In a moment the
old one is gone, and a nice new one in its place.
The window is mended, and the glass looks new
and clean. The floor is mopped, and actually
looks white; and yet I saw no mopping, only I
know it has been done. Chairs are placed about
the room, a good table by the window, and, most
wonderful of all, without waking Tom, a sweet
clean bed is in the corner, instead of the old one,
and he is clean and sweet too; and his sleep seems
very happy, for he is smiling.
What pretty little creatures these are Bless
me! Iam on a new chair-how in the world could
they have done that? What are they doing now?
They are at a dresser-putting cups and saucers,
plates, and other dishes in their places. They
have forgotten nothing-not even a wood-box be-
hind the door, filled with wood. They are cer-
tainly most thorough housekeepers. What will
the poor woman think when she comes back? She
has been away a long time. How much they have
done (I knew them by this time to be fairies), while
I have been sitting thinking what I should do!
Tom is waking. He looks at me with large blue
eyes, and does not seem to wonder at the change
around him, or at me, a stranger, sitting by him.
Here is his mother. Before I can speak to him,
she is opening the door. Why does she not
come in?
"Ma'am, the sleigh is ready."
What! Why! Where is Tom? And where
am I?
In my easy-chair, by my comfortable fire, and
have had this dream-nothing more than a dream.
This time the sleigh is really waiting for me, and
I do go to get the toys and presents for the chil-
And now, my little friends who read this, I must
tell you, my dream did some good; for that very
day, I did find out some very poor people, who
needed a helping hand very much, and whose
New Year's day I could make happy, by making
them comfortable, and showing them they were
thought of, and that their Father in Heaven had
touched human hearts in their behalf, and that the
fresh year would not be without hope and good





CHRISTMAS is coming-and then, a brand-new
year! Now a year is the greatest, most beautiful,
most wonderful of Christmas presents, my darlings,
and you're each to have one-a brand-new year!
think of it. Soon it will lie fresh, white and shining
before you, not a dark spot upon it-not a wrong
thought, not a harsh word, nor a neglected duty.
It seems to me that the best way to thank God for
such a present as that is to take good care of it and
keep it fair and shining to its very last moment.
But I'm only Jack-in-the-pulpit, so I'11 just give
my love to you all, and talk about

"DEAR JACK," writes a little maid, who signs
herself Riderhood," "may I tell what I am almost
sure happened last Summer? "
Certainly you may," answers your Jack.
But the little maid, without waiting to hear this
gracious permission, goes on:
The roses in the pretty schoolmistress's garden blushed deeply at
their .-. ;; :-- .:-i.- the violets, sorrowing, hung their heads;
and -I .. 1.... trembled with despair on the day the gar-
dener sowed the new seed with the big names.
"Oh, dear, dear! said the rose, "the gentle schoolmistress will
not care for us plain, old-fashioned flowers any more, after the agros-
temma coeli-rosea and the mirabilis jalapa bloom."
"The gardener often writes their names with capitals, while he
begins mine with a little 1," said the lily.
"He might at least Frenchify yours with an ie," replied the wall-
flower; "but I suppose we must just be prepared to accept the un-
enviable position of neglected flowers; no doubt we shall henceforth
'waste our sweetness on the desert air.' "
But Summer came, and with it the blossoms of the fearfully and
wonderfully named agrostemma coeli-rosea and the mirabilis jalapa
And when the schoolmistress walked in the garden, she said:
"These weeds are so troublesome; I will pull them up, so that
my dear violets may have more room to grow," and she threw the
agrostemma coeli-rosea superbum over the fence !
Next she saw the mirabilis jalapa grandiflora in full bloom.
"Dear me," she exclaimed, "I wonder what Hans planted more
four o'clock for! I had plenty in the back part of the garden al-
ready. But they are sweet, old-fashioned flowers, and I will let them

grow here, if they don't overrun my jewels-the roses, lilies, violets
and the dear old wall-flowers."
Then the rose smiled, and the wall-flower sent forth its sweetest
fragrance, the violet peeped out shyly from its green leaves, and the
snow-white lily shone like silver in the setting sun.

You never heard of such a thing? Why, I '11
warrant you've alluded to it often and often, without
knowing it. Didn't you ever speak of such or
such a matter coming, going, or happening just in
"the nick of time ? Very well. The little School-
ma'am says that nick comes from the German word
Nicken, to nod or wink. So the nick of time, is
the wink of time, or my name is not Jack.

TALKING of words, and what the little School-
ma'am says about them, it may interest my chicks
to know that the sled that is to rush down hill with
them so often during this winter, gets its name from
its nature-that is, from ever so many queer foreign
words, all signifying to slide. In Germany a sled
is a schlitten; in Holland, the land of the Dutch,
it's a slede; in Denmark, the country of Hans
Christian Andersen, it is known as a slaede; but
in Iceland, where the long-continued snow makes
a boy familiar with his sledge, he very naturally
calls it sledi, which I 'm sure is quite proper and
AT first I could n't and would n't believe it, but
when I heard the little fellow say that he read the
statement in Governor Seward's book, I gave in,
for of course a governor is expected to tell the exact
truth on all occasions.
What was it?
0, did n't I tell you? Why the little chap said
that rich Chinese mandarins wear long finger-nails,
sometimes as long as six or eight inches, as a sign
that they do not have to work. When nails are as
long as this, they are protected by cases of bamboo
or of gold. The nails are polished and stained like
This is good news for lazy boys. All they have
to do is to work their way to China, make their
fortune there, and let their nails grow.

THE Nameless Ter-
rora is not set down in
Sthe books, but he is a ter-
rible creature, of small
size-so small that you
can't see him at all, un-
-- -- less you're frightened,
_----: and then he is prodig-
ious. Timid little boys
of vivid imagination see him very often, especially
when they 're caught out after nightfall. Brave
little boys never see him. It must be a dreadful
thing to go through life in constant dread of the
Nameless Terrora.




THE birds make great fun of human music. Do
you know why? Because it has laws! Now, their
music has laws, too, but the dear little things don't
know it. A robin friend of mine, sitting on a
window-sill lately, heard a music-master giving a
little girl her music lesson. He thinks it the fun-
niest thing in the world, and assures me, on
the authority of the music-master, that human
music is made entirely by little hobgoblins, who
carry the sounds up and down the musical scale or


ladder, slowly or rapidly, according to orders. Mr.
Semibreve, he says, is the slowest of them all. Next
comes Mr. Minim, who is only half as slow as
Semibreve; then Mr. Crotchet, who is half as slow
as Minim; then little Quaver, who is half as slow
as Crotchet; then Semi-Quaver, half as slow as
Quaver, and finally, Demi-Semi-Quaver, the liveliest
little chap of them all, who can run up and down
the whole flight, while slow old Semibreve is rolling
to the next step.
WELL, well! Little did I think when I asked
some of you to find out the four mistakes in my
absurd story, on page 54 of the November number
of ST. NICHOLAS, what a tremendous uprising there
would be among the observing young folks of this
great country. Letters have poured in upon your
Jack by hundreds and hundreds, and hundreds
again. Even the little Schoolma'am says she never
saw anything like it. It is delightful. Stacks of
letters from East, West, North and South, and the
jumping-off place. A prize book, you remember,
was offered for the first letter received which should
correctly point out the four mistakes. Well, on
the 2ist of October, by same post, came two that
were right, and equally good-one from W. M. K.
Olcott, and another from Mamie A. Johnson.
Consequently, to each of these, the little School-
ma'am will send a book. But here comes the
trouble: The answers of many other children
who live far away from New York, were just as good'

as those of W. M. K. Olcott and Mamie, who live
close by, but of course they could not possibly be
so early. This bothers your Jack, for he wishes to
be very fair. Henceforth, the little Schoolma'am
says some other plan of award must be adopted.
Meantime she decides to send a book to the very
best and earliest letter that came from a distance.
So, Master Willie L. Brooks, of Sacramento, Cal.,
you are to have a book also. Special mention must
be made of correct answers and fine letters from
the :....1... r, boys and girls:
Annie Gardiner, Susan H. Welles,
May G. Holmes, Josie M. Brown,
Nellie Breck, A. P. Folwell, Susie
Garfield, Willie W. Ames, Edith Fos-
ter. Bessie Blair, Marion W. Losee,
Louise," Frank D. Russell, Silas
B. Adams, Willie B. Jones, Annie
T. Bridges, W. E. Graham, H. W.
h. Lung, Ira U. Ingram, Frank O.
Welcome, Mary Donaldson, Garrie
e-- W. Bailey, Fred. A. Walpole, Fred
Semi- Collins, Bessie Plimpton, Nelly D.
breve. Marshall, F. F. Hildreth, Sale B.
Griggs, Edwin F. Walker, Mamie
Sm. Hodges, Emily I. Smith, Harry N.
| Vlinximn Paul, Nellie Simpson, Jas. 1. Weston,
Philip S. Rust, Hester Dorsey, M.
W. Collet, John C. Williams, Louise
Croteliet. E, Gleim, Harry Bennett, Julia
I Emma Boyd, Annie Goodman, Lena
Warren, I. Buford Hendrick, Willie
Shattuck, Jennie E. Woodrow, Ada
Quaver. May Seely, Katie Pyle, Anne B.
Webb, Mrs. N. H. Parker, Mary E.
Walker, Bessie Thomas Lily Taylor,
Semi-cus.aver. Carrie A. Abbott, R. E. Withers, Jr.,
Charles T. Thomas, Ida Graham,
mi-semi-quaver. G. M. H.. Sammy Chubb, Mlamie
T -T.. T- i r ,-.,nTurner, AliceHol-
brook, Carrie Freneh, Harry New-
comb, WV. E. Taylor, Hattie M.
Daniels, Mabel F. Hole, C. G. HIf-lrt;n. Frank T. Chapman,
R. K. Eastman, Simie Stein, Jr., Fl :. Markham, Herbert T.
Bardwell, Helen W. Rice, Julia D. Hunter, Johnnie Knight, Johnnie
Bachman, Alice M. Rowe, Wm. N. Tolman, Lucy V. Kerr, Etta
C. Burt, N. Brewer, Jr., Mary L. Allen, Sarah Gallett, Gertie May
Perry, "Atlanta Boy," Lucy Annie Whitcomb, Helen Paul, and
Annie Todd.

Many others sent admirable answers; indeed, out
of the great number of letters received, only about
one hundred failed to be correct; but ST. NICHO-
LAS cannot give room to any more names. Jack
thanks the writers, one and all, and hopes to hear
from them again. Here is the first correct reply
that was opened:
New York, Oct. 2oth, 1875.
In all my experience in the country, I think I have never seen
crows or pigeons hop, nor robins and sparrows walk, but vice
versa. I therefore conclude that the four mistakes in your story mi
the November number of ST. NICHOLAs, are the statements that the
crow and pigeon hopped, and the sparrow and robin walked.-Yours
truly, W. M. R. OLCOTT, aged 13 years.

And here is an extract from Helen D-'s
letter-a "big" girl, who does not compete for
the prize:

Hearing that you were interested in "hoppers and walkers," I re-
membered that just a few days ago we came across something on that
subject, in "Wake Robin," by John Burroughs. That close and
loving observer of Nature says, i :. P, far the greater num-
ber of our land birds are hope ih. f.- thrushes, warblers,
woodpeckers, buntings, &c., are all hoppers." On page I5b he says:
"Robins belong to the thrush family .... See the robin hops along
upon the ground. Plovers, sandpipers, and snipes run rapidly.
Among the land-birds, the grouse, pigeons, quails, larks, and various
blackbirds, walk. The swallows walk, also, whenever they use their
feet at all, but very awkwardly."








My Uncle Jehoshaphat had a pig,
A pig of high degree;
And it always wore a brown scratch wig,
Most beautiful for to see.

My Uncle Jehoshaphat loved that pig,
And the piggy-wig he loved him;
And they both jumped into the lake one day,
To see which best could swim.






My Uncle. Jehoshaphat he swam up,
And the piggy-wig he swam down;
And so they both did win the prize,
Which the same was a velvet gown.

My Uncle Jehoshaphat wore one-half,
And the piggy-wig wore the other;
And they both rode to town on the brindled calf,
To carry it home to its mother.


FLY away, fly away, Birdie oh!
Bring something home to my Baby Bo;
Bring her a feather and bring her a song,
And sing to her sweetly all the day long.

Hoppety, kickety, Grasshopper oh!
Bring something home to my Baby Bo;
Bring her a thistle and bring her a thorn,
Hop over her head and then begone.

Howlibus, growlibus, Doggibus oh!
Bring something home to my Baby Bo;
Bring her a snarl and bring her a snap,
And bring her a posy to put in her cap.

Twinkily, winkily, Firefly oh!
Bring something home to my Baby Bo;
Bring her a moonbeam and bring her a star,
Then, Twinkily Winkily, fly away far!

^ ^ ^V.. -''^ p^
''-, ",.1.
I .

VOL. III.- 4.



(Henceforth we hope to be able to give space every month to a Young Contributors' Department, the articles in which are to be signed with
their writers' initials only, though we must require in each instance the real name, age, and address of the author. We shall be happy to
hear from our young friends, and shall be guided in selecting manuscripts by their individual merit, the relative age of the author, and
the interest of the matter for the greatest number of our readers.) *


NEARER and nearer we draw to thy side,
Closer and closer as time goes by,
Alas, that men dread thee and know not why,
O wonderful River of shadowy tide -
How silently past us thou glidest along, I ...- .. -"
Onward, still onward, thro' days and years; .-_. .- -
Thy current, 0 River, is swollen with tears,
On thy bosom thou bearest the weak and the strong. ---
The aged and hoary, the young and fair,
Thou bearest away from this sphere of pain;
Care may exist but for them in vain,


woe and amfiction are mtongs that were.
Unending the peace of thine unseen wave,
Unceasing thy journey to That from This; a"
A glimpse of thy waters, O River, is bliss, -=
Alike for the hoary, the young, and the brave. ---
c. an. an. -

OuR boy readers, we think, will be specially interested in the -- -
following personal account of a cruise on the Adirondack lakes, n -- -
written by one of our young friends, who says he likes to see MY BOAT AND OARS (FROM A PHOTOGRAPH).
where he is going. Be sure you're right as you go ahead,"
is evidently his motto; for he rowed himself over the lakes with oars r. 1. without detaching them from the boat. While rowing,
of his own invention that enabled him to face the bow. I -..... .. noise from the bearings.
With these oars, the boatman makes no more effort in steering than
THE EXCURSION. in directing his course while walking, and this lessens greatly the
effort of rowing. He sees the blade of his oar in front of hin,
This summer I spent a month in the Adirondacks. I had twice and can easily avoid obstacles, while, if he chooses to float along lazily
been there before, and was sufficiently acquainted with the woods to for awhile the oars can be closed out of the way of the gunwale,
make my way through the lakes without a guide. I entered from without detaching them from the boat.
Boonville, and went into camp with two friends on Se enth Lake My boat is a double-bowed pine shell, fourteen feet long, and
of the Fulton chain. After several days of fishing and hunting, we weighs 75 lbs., without the oars. For so short a boat, it is quite fast.
went on to Long Lake, where I bought a new boat, to which I at- After it was all ready to float, I took it down to the landing, accom-
t panied by a curious crowd, and pulled off in fine style, as the rowing-
Sh.. .-. I a contrivance for rowing a boat which allows gear worked much to my satisfaction. The guides, in their turn, all
the boatman to face the bow, pulling in the same manner as with the tried it and liked it
ordinary oars. The reverse movement is obtained by dividing the I spent a few days at the village on Long Lake before beginning
my cruise. One windy morning I started down the 11-- i--,i--,,
with two other boats, on my way to the Saranacs. '.. : i., i.. r.-.
progress, as the wind was m our favor, and very soon crossed the
lI sand-bar into the Raquette River. Here I fully realized how con-
venient it was to see where I was going without twisting my neck.
Very soon we got to Johnson's Portage, commonly called "carry,"
which I crossed twice, first to carry my boat, and then to carry my
two guns and bag. This was no easy matter, as the "carry" was a
1FD mile and a on-lrtr Inn and very muddy from the recent rains.
After dinner r J... ... the river, changing my course at Stony
lit- -Creek Brook, and that evening crossed Spectacle Lakes to Indian
-- Carry." At the landing, the people who saw me silently and swiftly
approaching the shore, were quite astonished to see my position in
the boat. I was now on the Upper Saranac, one of the finest lakes
of the woods. The next day I rowed down to Bartlett's Hotel, and
then on to Martin's. As I often rowed in company with other boats,
my oar was well tested with theirs. I soon found that for hunting,
this oar would take the place of the paddle in most cases. I went to
Paul Smith's by way of the lakes, and the day I left St. Rige's was
i" i very pleasant, being neither too hot nor too cold; the lake was smooth
as glass and nearly as clear. After spending a few days on Lake
S'Tr--r I --t rut "done for the Thousand Isles, by way of Potsdam
.. I:.. I '. I I .L..- : ...nning the rapids of the Raquette River as far as
_. :'1.1. ...1 .1 times narrowly escaping a capsize.
i For two days I ran rapids and carried" around falls. Often before
losing the sound of the rapid above, I would hear the roar of waters
below, and in a few minutes be gliding swiftly down, the noise of the
waters drowning all other sounds, and the boat being enveloped in
THE ROWING GEAR. a cloud of spray. The intense excitement of a run down the rapids
cannot be described.
oar in two parts, each part having a ball and socket-joint fastened on On the St. Lawrence, while i -. I ;, -i... swell, my oars
.1 ..-. .. 1 ., worked well, convincing me th ,.' : i i .d for rowing in
li I .... ......' .1.. that the oarsman applies his strength to a heavy sea.
the best mechanical advantage, and enables him to row faster and more I stayed among the Thousand Islands for several days, and the
easily than with the ordinary oar. boatmen all liked my oars.
The oars can also be closed up out of the way, alongside of the I left Alexandria Bay for Montreal on a day boat, taking my canoe




. : -y -


with me. It was a fine day, and I enjoyed my sail do i ., i r.I I ;
greatly. From Montreal I went directly on by rail to .I i .11
where I spent a pleasant Sunday. Tuesday morning, at ten o'clock,
I left Bellows Falls in my boat to row home on the Connecticut River.
That night I stopped at Vernon, Vt., having rowed thirty miles.
The next day I rowed to Hatfield, Mass. Thursday I reached
Thompsonville, Ct, and Friday afternoon, at four o'clock, found
myself at Middletown, Ct., having made, in less than four days, a
hundred and fifty miles.
Coming down the river I was often stopped by persons who wished
to examine "the new-fangled oars." Once, a man on the bank
shouted to me, "Young man, you are rowing the wrong way." I
replied, "Perhaps you don't know which way I am going." I made
but two "carries on the Connecticut, and ran all the swift water
below Holyoke. So ended a very pleasant and successful trip, during
which I rowed about four hundred miles in my boat; and I certainly
had seen far more than if I had been rowing backward all the way.
w. L.

As the nine o'clock night-bell rang, I sauntered down the hall of
our boarding-school, and stopped a minute to see that Nell and Anna
were all right. Upon finding that they were sure that a man was in
their closet, I investigated the three inches space between a trunk and
the wall, and relieved their terror-stricken minds. Then I turned
into my own room, laughing a moment with Eva and Louise Bishop,
... ..i..M ..' last sally. The bell "for putting out the
S. i '.: ... J .:ni ... reigned, save where a teacher's kerosene

lamp illuminated her own apartment. Morpheus is generally kind to
forlorn maidens, and in ten minutes the whole forty of us were asleep.
I dreamed of the prairies and all the dear faces-but is that our
principal's ? Yes; and white with terror, for she is shaking me and
saying: "You must waken; one-half of this house is on fire. Hurry
on your waterproof, and help Eva with Louise."
I rush to the hall-Louise has fainted-Eva is gray from fear, and
,: -i..- renders her almost corpse-like. We carry her sister's light
: -, i .. ; to the side door; some one has sent for carriages, and
there they are; the horses frantic with terror. I don't see Anna or
Nell, and shut the back door with a snap. Those two children belong
to me. I mustfind them. I go back-the smoke is stifling. They are
alone, on a short hall. In the passage the principal stops me. I
scream, yell the girls' names. She throws up her arms with an awful
. i..: : of horror, and sobs, "Great Heavens! I've ri" ;
I..i. I push past her and am pounding on their door. i ... r
girls are shivering in their white :.: .r..i 1-.. ...-a's great black
eyes dilate, as she tries to say, i r .- *i can we do?"
"Little Nell" moans Mother." I look back-the flames are
creeping up the stairs. There's only one chance. We tear the sheets
in strips and fasten them around Nell; then warning her to "keep
cool, dearie," we let her down inch by inch. Then Anna and I look
at each other-only one can go-two girls, to whom life is just open-
ing. "I promised to watch over you, and you must go, Anna," I
manage to say, and I tie the cotton strips about her waist. "You know
1 am strong, trust in me; go back to dear old Illinois, and tell Carl
I kept my promise." Good-night." The knots hurt my hands,
and it is stifling. I can hardly hold any longer. At last, the weight
is gone, and- I turn over, to find the sun shining full in my face,
the sheet twisted round and round the bed-post, and the rising-bell
ringing. I. w. F.



NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. By Susan Coolidge. Boston: Roberts
Bros.-A delightful book of stories and pictures. The first chapter
tells how Johnny, who is not a boy, had a very narrow escape front
something which was not an accident; the next and next, up to the
ninth and last, give each an interesting history of events which seem
as if they must have happened somewhere; while one and all are
most originally and pleasantly told in the service of Mother Goose's
melodies. We cordially advise all of our young friends of from eight
to eighty years to read this book.

HEADS AND TAILS. By Grace Greenwood.-A profusely illus-
trated book about little animals, for very young readers, which, being
by Grace Greenwood, is sprightly and entertaining from the first
page to the last. J. B. Ford & Co., N. Y.

the author of "Stories from My Attic;" "Dream Children," and
"Seven Little People and their Friends." (With seventy-seven
illustrations.) New York: Hurd & Houghton.-A book that will
enchant you, young friends, little and big, and delight your parents-
so good and rich throughout, so charmingly illustrated and so prettily
and quaintly covered, that it is an honor to the Bodley Family as
well as to the author.

VICTORIAN POETS. By Edmund Clarence Stedman. Boston:
James R. Osgood & Co.-Boys and girls who are old enough to
really crave a knowledge of modern English poetry, and young
enough to require in their critic the warmth and sympathy of a true
poet, will find this very thorough and scholarly work of Mr. Sted-
man's a treasure indeed. Being in no sense that dreary, bloodless
thing, a.condensed literary chronicle, it is compact as a manual, and
yet so full and satisfactory, so suggestive, so like a long talk with just
the right person on a subject upon which one is most eager to be in-
formed, that its single volume, soon read, seems to have broadened
out into a dozen, and the profitable time spent in reading it to have
been expanded a hundred fold. We should be glad to see this book,
with its very complete index and helpful side notes, introduced into
our higher academies and colleges.

TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. By Frank R. Stockton. (With one
hundred and fifty illustrations.) New York: Scribner, Armstrong
and Co.-Knowing that young persons can gain information in
other ways than by blackboards and text-books, Mr. Stockton, not
long since, whisked away a host of American young folk on a
holiday tour of "Roundabout Rambles." It was a delightful excur-
sion, and for those who enjoyed it to bid good-bye to their jolly friend
and resume their old studies was something like returning to school
on the day after a picnic. But the sight-seeing and adventure of the
journey must certainly have added a new zest to their studies, and
turned many a dull page into an interesting one. It will be happy
news, therefore, for them to learn that, during their school-hours, Mr.
Stockton has himself been busy in collecting the materials for this
charming series of "Tales Out of School," which are fully as inter-
esting as the "Rambles," and will make the brightest winter-evening
fireside grow even brighter still. Between the beautiful covers of
this new volume are the most fanciful stories, and the most graphic
descriptions of strange and wonderful things in nature and art, that
Mr. Stockton has ever written.

THE YOUNo SURVEYOR. By J. T. Trowbridge. Osgood & Co.,
Boston.-Here we have, in book form, the capital story of Jack
Hazard and his Western experiences. ST. NICHOLAS readers need
not be told that this story will well bear reading again, while those
who are not familiar with Jack, Vinnie, Wad, Old Peakslow, little
Chokie and the rest of the lively people of the story, should lose no
time in making their acquaintance. We think this one of the best
books of the Jack Hazard series.

EIGHT CousINs, now published in book form by Roberts Bros.,
Boston, met with such a cordial reception in ST. NICHOLAS, that it
must become one of Miss Alcott's most popular books. Everywhere,
the children, the girls especially, take the greatest interest in Rose.
Each of her seven cousins has his admirers, to be sure, and there
are people who almost worship Uncle Alec; but Rose is the queen
of the story. We think, too, that Jo" of "Little Women"
will have a powerful rival in this delightful young girl, who is as
pretty as she is good, and who is so very good. These stories of Mr.
Trowbridge and Miss Alcott have gone side by side through ST.
NICHOLAS, and now that they have separated and passed out into
the wide world, we wish them the best of good fortune.




THE BIG BROTHER. By George Cary Eggleston. G. P. Putnam's
Sons, New York.-This is a story of Indian war in the early part of
this century. It is full of the adventures of brave whites-boys as
well as men--vith savage red men, and abounds in stirring scenes of
frontier warfare. But the book will do more than give the boys pic-
tures of Indian fights. It relates a history of a very important part
of our country's experience, and will tell many a youngster a great
deal that he never knew befori2.

THE ROSE LIBRARY. (Popular Literature of all Countries.) New
York: Scribner, Welford & Armstrong.-These very tasteful little
volumes, all illustrated, and only 50 cents each, will meet the needs
of many young folk who wish to own standard story-books, yet can-
not afford to buy expensive volumes. The works of this series, now
before us, are: UNDINE AND THE TWO CAPTAINS, by De La Motte
Fouque (a new translation). PICCIOLA, or TIHE PRISON FLOWER,
by X. B. Saintine; THE FOUR GOLD PIECES, a Story of Brittany,
by Julie Gourand; ROBERT's HOLIDAYS, by N. Danvers (founded
on the French of Z. Fleuriot; THE HOUSE ON WHEELS, by Madame
de Stolz, and SEA GULL ROCK, by M. Jules Sandeau.

FRISK AND HIS FLOCK, by Mrs. D. P. Sanford, is a bright
account of a flock of girls and boys at a country school, and of the
wise and funny way the dog Frisk helped Miss Agatha, the teacher,
to manage her scholars. It is a large, handsome book, with pictures
that will delight the young folks. E. P. Dutton & Co., N. Y.

From A mericaan Tra'ct Sociey, VNew Ior/:
PROUD LITTLE DODY. By Sarah E. Chester.-This is a story
that little girls will read over and over again with ever fresh interest.
Dody is a comical, lovable little creature, and there are so many
portraits of her, from the time she locks herself into her mamma's room
to the day she climbs the tree to show Tom what girls can do, that
she seems like an old friend at the last.
SPLENDID TIMES is a handsome volume, and its pages are crowded
with fine pictures. Its author, Mrs. Margaret Sangster, knows well
how to tell tales that children like.
We have also received from the same publishers, FIvE HAPrP
Frost: THE RIVERSIDE FARM-HOUSE, by Mrs. M. E. Miller;
OTHER STORIES; How TIPTOE GREW, by Catharine Williams;
FLOY LINDSLEY AND HER FRIENDS, by the author of" A Sum-
mer in a Forest," is intended for older children than any of the
above. It is an interesting sequel to that pleasant book, A Summer
in a Forest," and here we meet again with the Lindsleys, and the
Round Point people-Abriatha, Dorfie, Cush, and all the rest. But

those who have not read the previous volume will find the story com-
plete in itself.

THE SHINING RIVER. From Oliver Ditson & Co., Boston.-A
collection of New Music for Sunday-schools-by H. S. & W. O.
Perkins-and a good collection, we should say. Although it contains
many new pieces never before published, familiar and favorite hymns
are not discarded. We wonder anew, at sight of this, why, with all
due regard to economy, the covers of the Sunday-school song-books
cannot be made just a little less ugly and uninviting.

SCOPE. By John Phin. Industrial Publication Society, New York.
P. Putnam's Sons, New York.
These are two excellent books, and though somewhat advanced
for little people, will doubtless prove of interest and use to some of
our older readers who care for microscopical investigations, or who
stuff and prepare birds, squirrels, &c.
HISTORY OF My FRIENDS. From the French of Emile Achard.
G. P. Putnam's Sons.-This is a series of excellent stories about ani-
mals. Some of them are exceedingly interesting.

MICE AT PLAY. By Neil Forest. Roberts Brothers.-A story
which is not Omly interesting, but teaches some good lessons to old
people as well as young ones.
Six TO SIXTEEN. By Juliana Horatia Ewing Roberts Brothers.-
This is an English story, which may prove of interest to older readers.

CAPTAIN HATTERAS. By Jules Verne. Osgood & Co.-Jules
Verne is always astonishing, sometimes too muchso ; but this book
of adventure at the North Pole is one of his best works.

JOLLY Goon TIMES, by P. Thorne, is a fresh, lively narrative
of child-life on a farm. The varied experiences that cluster around
that existence are portrayed very faithfully in this neat little volume.
The book contains several capital illustrations by Addie Ledyard.
Roberts Bros., Boston.

FAMILY RECORDS, published by Henry Holt & Co., N. Y., is a
large and handsome volume, with blank pages for all sorts of family
records-accounts of births, weddings, tooth-cuttings, and various
noteworthy events in the career of each member of the family. Such
a book, when filled, will he a most valuable family treasure.

SILVER THREADS OF SONG.-By H. Millard. Gordon & Co.-A
good music book, with many excellent songs, &c., suitable for
schools and families. At the end of the book is a Musical Char-
ade," which ought to be interesting to children who can sing.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Can you tell me the best thing to hold A LITTLE BOY, with original ideas, sends us a poem on Labor,
card-houses.together in the Christmas City, as .... ...:..... cilage which he says is of his "own composion." Here are two of the
does not hold them firmly? I i .. Jr. verses:

If you buy good mucilage, you will find it satisfactory. If you
made the mucilage yourself, perhaps you made it too thin.

Lausanne, Suisse, Oct. 17, 1875.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been taking your Magazine ever
since it came out, but I never wrote but one letter to you, and that
was about crystallizing flowers.
I do love your book so much, I took it when I lived in Washing-
ton, D. C.; and when we started for Europe, I thought I would have
to give it up, but mamma said I might have it sent to me; so now it
is sent to London, and from London to Lausanne, where I am at a
French boarding-school; and I like it very much.
Please tell Miss Alcott I liked the "Eight Cousins" very much
I cannot think of any more to say, so good-bye.
I remain your loving and constant reader,
Your book is such a pleasure to me!

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I want to ask some of the boys and girls,
i. ou, why it is "darkest just before dawn." If you will ask
'- .. will very much oblige

Even in Eden there was toil,
And patience. Adam had to wait,
And cultivate the fruitful soil,
And labor for his mate.

And now there's labor in the world,
To keep the world a-going;
Each person has his proper share-
Some reaping, and some sowing.

"A READER."-H. H. was mistaken, and Jack is right. The
Rev. Charles Ludwig Dodgson, of England, wrote "Alice in Won-
Stuttgart, Oct. 17.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We were all greatly interested in "Eight
Cousins." Rose's "learning bones" reminds me of one of our
studies at school. A physician comes into one of the higher classes
once a week, and speaks of the construction of the human body,
and of its various parts. He brings bones and pictures along to
make it more easy for us to understand. He has models of the
heart, lungs, and brains, of gypsum, fashioned so that they can be
taken apart. They have the colors of the natural organs, and I find
them very interesting. Recently, he '% ..:1. an eye of paperr
machi," which he says is a true work .1 .i Of course it is much




larger than a natural eye, but all the small nerves and muscles arc
given. I think such models give us a better idea of ourselves than
pictures do.
The school was founded in 1818, by Queen Catharine of Wiirtem-
berg, and it bears her name. About nine hundred girls go in and
out daily. There are eight classes, each with two or three divisions.
Two years ago, a higher school for the educating of teachers was
added to the Cathannenstift. Every winter an afternoon course
of study is opened in which is taught that which the eighth class
Twice a week lectures are held by a
i ... r.--..: i.. .. '. i irts. Last year we had the history of
painting; this winter it will be the history of architecture. French
is taught very thoroughly, and almost daily, in all the classes;
English is only a secondary study. Every Thursday we have to
listen to a sermon. The rector wears his chancel-gown, and
preaches upon the text of tlh f-ll---1n- ei..-l- T t?-.'t see the
use of these sermons, for the ,,i .1 ... I i -....,.: -..r..-..... to them.
While the last rectorlived, -I ii ..! I .,i.. : .positions
about the sermons; but the i .. Ir -i 1 ....i. strict in
some things, takes this easy.
As a general rule, Stuttgart has very good schools, although the
method of teaching is exceedingly slow. One girl counted up all
the holidays during the eight years she passed at the Catharinenstift,
and found that two whole years had been holidays.
Hoping to see your dear magazine soon, I remain your friend,

M. E. A.-Jack will print your clever story.

_MAMIE A. JOHNSOn.-Please send post-office address again to
Little Schoolma'am, care of ST. NICHOLAS magazine, so that she
may send you a book. (See Hoppers and Walkers," page 199.)

DEAR ST. NICHOLAs: Hiram G- asks if there are any other of
your readers who have seen live potato-bugs washed up on the beach.
I live about nine miles from the Atlantic Ocean; and on Fire Island
last summer I saw, y .'i -.:.-i .Ir-t -a-- hills of them, the greater
part alive, washed up I 1 -.: ... -,' .. your constant readers and
admirers, WILLARD P. REID.

Brooklyn, Oct. 29, 1875.
Myv DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Mamma says to ask you if you think
it is wise for me, a boy eight years old, to begin to read the ST.
NICHOLAS as soon as I rise, and during all my play-hours?
I am so fond of it, and find so much of interest in it, that I think
it is the best kind of play for me-don't you ?
Papa has subscribed for all of the Abbott's Histories for me, if I
will not tease my little sister; but you don't know what fun it is. I
tell him boys will be boys; still I think I have improved a little.
Mamma says, to put a big stroke under the "little."
Please write my name down among the Bird-defenders. We have
birds in large numbers in the trees in front of our house.-Yours

JAMiES E. W. writes: Mamma thinks the information I get
from ST. NICHOLAS is a good part of my education."

IT seems that Sarah B. Wilson's riddle was also published in
"Our Young Folks" for December, 1872, and the answers then
elicited are substantially those that have been sent to ST. NICHOLAS.
We print the following as a concise statement of the two answers
generally given:
Springfield, Mlass., Oct. 28, .
EDITORS OF ST. NICHOLAS: The riddle sent by Sarah B. .
is not given correctly. The principal differences between it and the
correct one are near the end. The tenth line should read, The
.rl-.... .. rl,.: i .1 ... : dues," and in the next to the last,
.). ...-, 1 be shown." The puzzle was written
by Miss'Anne Seward, an English authoress, who left s50 in her
will to anyone who would solve it. I .. -. :.. i- 11: 1 ... ,
"Our .-.'.'s for March, 187, 1 .., i: ..." "
Apollo i .1 Light; Evidence; X, the cross; Agriculture;
Nuncupatory; Daystar (Venus); Redemption; Ingots; and Alter-
age, or altarage. The first letters of these make Alexandria. In the
May number, of the same volume, page 315, was another answer,
given by a lady, who said that her mother had given her this answer
over sixty years ago. The words were: Laocoon; Eye (I); Time;
Cornucopia; Hope; Fidelity; Idalis, or Venus; Ease; Lucre;
Duty-the initials spelling Litchfield, the birthplace of Dr. Johnson,
and known in the time of the Romans. I have not known whether
the reward was claimed or not. FRANK H. BURT.
One or both of the answers given in Frank's letter have also been
sent in by Emile Low, E. N. Fussell, Comus," A. E. Johnson,
Mary W. Calkins, J. D. Early, "Winfried," SamuelWilliston, Daisy
Gill, and Speca." Charles Hart Payne sends similar answers, and

explains that Altarage is "an emolument of priests arising from obla-
tions through the means of an altar," and alterage is the fostering of
a child." The following three'answers are inserted in full as being
new and original. The first comes from J. P. B.:

Apioll Belvidere, fair work of art;
Diaflnd, bright gem that nature doth impart
Retainer, needful in the lawyer's case;
Iris, fair rainbow, signal is of peace.
A cheerful air the plowman's steps attends;
The faithful soldier, name with honor blends;
The lover's vow may in the very name
A promise of a sure "remembrance" claim;
Th.- -- r t .: .1 ... 't .:.f iI-,. :arthand sun;
: ._ -:. i.. -: l. H w on ,
Nor wits, nor parsons, eulogies refuse.
By the initials of these words is shown
"Adrianople," city of renown.
W. T. Prescott sends this:
The noblest object in the works of art, Afollo Belvidere.
The brightest gem which nature can impart, Genius.
The point essential in the;. n .' .se, Retainingfee.
The well-known signal in tl... i..... 'peace, Increase.
The plowman's prompter when he drives the
plow, Grain.
The soldier's duty and the lover's vow, Engagement.
The planet seen between the earth and sun, New Moon.
The prize which merit never yet has won, Throne.
The miser's treasure and the badge of Jews, Usury,
The wit's ambition and the parson's dues. AMoney.
Now if your noble spirit can divine
A corresponding word for every line,
By theftrst.' i...:l .. ;11 : hown
A n ancient c-r, l. ..) I .,-.
By taking the first letter of each corresponding word, we have
"Agrigentum," an ancient city of Sicily.
And, finally, here is an answer giving a new akithorship and inter-
pretation to the riddle:
EDITORS ST. NICHOLAS: The riddle sent by your correspondent
-- m-rnin an ancient city, was written by the Rev. Solyman Brown,
I ,; i, your city, and a Swedenborgian, also a dentist. The
11 be found in a volume of his poems at least as far back as
1836. The answer is "'Ierosolyma," the ancient name for Jerusa-
lem. I leave your readers the rest of the solution. WM. WARD.

[No. 1260.] South Branch, N. J., October 29, 1875.
your valuable magazine almost everything that will amuse or instruct
or benefit your many friends. Among my acquaintances there is
quite a mania just now to see who can write the most words on a
postal card. About the middle of this month I sent a postal card off
with 6oo words; I thought it was full, but since then have written
one with ro55 words. I am 300 ahead of any one else that I know,
and do not think it can be excelled.
Bear with me a little longer, and I will describe a plan I have fol-
lowed for some years that is often of much value to me, and. I think
will be of interest to others. It is keeping an account of correspond-
I commenced in 1863, when I sent ten letters and received nine;
since then it has been increasing steadily, till last year (1874) I sent
279, and received 257, making a total for the twelve years of 1oo8
sent and 913 received. This explains the No. at the top of sheet.
During the year several letters were lost and detained by being
wrongly forwarded by postumasters. By my book I have been able to
finish P. O. Department with exact date of sending the letter, receipt
of word of non-receipt, and date of every letter sent in reference to the
same to any postmaster on the route. Have found it very valuable,
and been able to recover some of these letters which were quite valu-
My book is six inches wide by seven and a half long; it has five
spaces: first for date; second, number sent; third, name; fourth,
date, and fifth, number received. See as follows:
Feb. 19......... i N. Y. Tract Society ...... Feb. 23,
Apr. 14.... 2 Jones, Brother & Co...... Sept. 9, 7
Aug, 5 ...... 6 .i & Main........... Apr. 20, a
May s ......... 3 i- J. Tilden......... July 14, 5
Sept. 4....... 7 Win. C. Bryant........... May 26, 3
June 5......... 4 Willcox & Gibbs.......... June 28, 4
July 2.......... 5 First Asst. P. M. General.. Aug. 5, 6
x inch wide. 4 in. i in. wide. in.
Hoping you will receive this with favor, I remain, most respect-
fully yours, Amos MORsi.




I AM composed of 14 letters. My 6, 2, I, 2, 4, 7, was
the goddess of orchards and fruit. My I, io, 8, II, was
the god of war. My 12, 7, 5, 3, 8, 9, was the god. of
time. My I, 2, I, 13, 14, was the god of wit and gay
conversation. My 6, io, 9, was considered as the in-
spirer of consternation, or panics. My whole was the
favorite haunt of Pegasus. M.

DICK Dobbin was mightily given to-;
His tongue ran along at a terrible-,
And e'en all the time that his victuals he-
He chatted away just the same.
His father would scold, and his mother would-
And vow that their son was an ill-mannered-
But Dick would not stop till he'd had his talk-
And that time, alas 1 never came. A. B. c.
FILL the first blank with a certain word, and the
second blank with the same word decapitated. I. The
resulted in- 2. A boy made a toy- in our-
3. Did you have to- for the- ? 4. Can the- eat
an- ? 5. The-- belongs to this- 6. This--
is full of CYRIL DEANE.
THE birthplace of a famous conqueror; the name of
another who died 323 years before the Christian Era,
and whose coffin, composed of a single block of Egyptian
breccia, is still preserved in the British Museum; a re-
nowned hunter, and the founder of a noted city, whose
walls were a hundred feet high, and inclosed fifteen
hundred lofty towers ; a Grecian city, once famous for
its learning and refinement; a renowned city in the
mountains of Gilead, where one king of Israel died,
another was wounded, and a third anointed king; and
a city of Japan, now becoming noted for its rapid growth
in Western civilization. Take the first letter of each of
the above, and form the name of a cheery little inmate
of many of our homes, and also of a group of islands
celebrated for a volcanic peak more than 12,000 feet
high. F. R. F.
THIS puzzle is so good that we give it a place here,
although we are not sure that it has never been printed
The first you do to shun a stone
Flung at you in a passion;
The next, for brilliant sights and sounds,
Is sought by folks of fashion;
The third, a friend will strive to do
When your intent is wrong;
But of the fourth there are but few
Who to the fifth belong.
I. FROMa the name of a tree except the middle letter,
and make it masculine. 2. From a word of seven letters
denoting well-known, except the middle one, and leave
a tree; from this except the third letter, and make it icy
cold. 3. From a heavy piece of wood, a noted river may
be formed by -...I ; the letter "in." 4. Except the
central letter from a wreath, and leave a mountain hut.
5. Drop the middle letter from a carousal, and leave

what often succeeds it. 6. Except the middle letter from
a division of a poem, and you will see a noted Roman.
7 Except the middle letter from a small white cord, and
leave an adjective indicating its use. 8. Except the
middle letter from the Mexican cherry, and leave a
species of fish. 9. By excepting the central letter from
a favorite confection, a sacred mountain is left; from
this except the third letter, and leave an animal which
lives near it. o1. From a deep ravine except the fourth
letter, and leave a law. CHARL.

BEHEAD and curtail words having the following defi-
nitions, and leave a complete word square. I. Wounds.
2. Packages. 3. Encourages. CYRIL DEANE.

READING downward and across alike. i. A numeral.
2. A boy's nickname. 3. A claw. 4. A number. 5.
Damp. 6. A negative. 7. A consonant, c. D.

WHOLE, I am to strike a blow;
Beheaded once, a coach I go.
Change my new head, and I pass
For an ensign or an ass.
Alter head, and I'm a need;
And again, a load indeed.
Once more change, and I 'm a frame;
Still again, I'm a surname.
Head anew, and I'm to hold;
Yet again (if you're so bold),
Make of me a bag, or wine,
Or a garment neat and fine.
Head anew, and I'm behind;
Still again, a nickname find.
Off my head and give me two,
I 'I1 look wise and wear a queue.
Give others two instead of these,
And I'm as dexterous as you please.
L. W. N.
I. A GRACEFUL bird. 2. Crockery. 3. Parts of the
human body. 4. A bird's habitation. RUBY SEAL.

I. NAPOLEON thought it that he should, as an
exile, 2. -- procession could
not well have been -. 3. A debtor said, Will you
take dollar when you have so much- ? "
4. I am in dressing her hair; -- -- -
and braid the rest. 5. She made a to renounce the
world long before she entered 6. He has no
time for for .he with work. 7.
They obey his only at. their 8. Such ignor-
ance of botany was not to be -; he could not have
-- from a shrub. 9. His had acquired
a -- through rust. 10. Immunity from mice was
by a-- --. B.
I. TRACKERS. 2. To divide. 3. A contemptible per-
son. 4. In all towers. 5. To brown. 6. Part of your
body. 7. Seen in cotton factories. Centrals, read down-
ward, name an officer. CYRIL DEANE.




18, 9.1 .

4.17. ,18.14.

,'; .. ,.


/I ,*



,---- A ---,ae = -.- -
i .

7. 13.15, 58. 13.67.11 3 6.16. 1 6. 7
(The answer to above contains nineteen letters, and is to be obtained from the pictures and numbers given.)

BEHEAD and curtail words having the following sig-
nifications, and leave a complete diamond: I. A
beverage. 2. Thrusts from a pointed weapon. 3.
Workmen on slates. 4. Encourages. 5. A time. The
following letters and words form the diamond: I. A
consonant. 2. A border. 3. Afterward. 4. A wager.
5. A consonant. CYRII DEANE.

I AM a word of three syllables. My first and second
united, form what we all have been, what most of us
love, yet what nobody likes to be called; my third has
been always an important part of the great city of
London; and my whole is the name of an ancient
city in which the first astronomical observations were
made. F. R. F.



m.. .:


(Make out the names of the articles on the tree from the hints given. Some packages contain only a ticket for the present, which would
be too large for a tree. The answer to No. x is Umbr-ella. ST. NICHOLAS has a very pretty Christmas present on its
Christmas-tree waiting to he sent to the first girl or boy who sends correct answers to this riddle.)

r J%

S ., !
. n

:;,',t '.iK t: .

1. FOUR-FIFTHS ofa brown pigment and a girl's name.
2. Equality, a vowel, and a planet. 3. An emblem of
eternity. 4. A pair, and four-sevenths of some veal
steaks. 5. A five-dollar bill and the N. Y. Tribune.
6. A bond, and certain amphibious animals. 7. A
sentinel. 8. Part of the head, and what Saturn has. 9.
Sixty-six and two-thirds cents. Io. A man mentioned
in Genesis. II. A Swiss hero, a letter of the alphabet,
and to contend. 12. A command to keep to the right,
followed by a pair of Cupids. 13. A crime, an adverb,
a relative, sailors, and an adverb. 14. A cooked dish,
notches, and a part of the hand. 15. Inhabitants of
a portion of Great Britain, and the inside of a watch.
16. Skating people. 17. One penny, and a pouch.
18. A member of the human frame, a poor dog, and
a commander. 19. Part of the body, and bonds of
union. 20. A peripatetic receptacle. 2r. A geometric
figure, part of the body, and trimming. 22. One of
the early inhabitants of Albion, and a pitcher. 23.
Part of your body, prefixed by twice yourself. 24.
L. L. 25. Passions and blows. 26. A parent and a
bird. 27. What we find in the store, and in the win-
dow. 28. A gentleman, and part of a sail-boat. 29.
An insect and a snare. 30. A letter and a spirit. 31.
Part of the window. 32. A nickname, to avoid, and
breezy. 33. Tableaux. 34. Half of an exclamation,
and a tool. 35. To steal. 36. Two letters. 37. Part
of the body, and a wedge. 38. A powerful instrument,
part of a window, and an envelope. 39. What a printer
dreads, an article, and an exclamation. 40. Something
that can be easily turned into a dairy. 41. A fastening,
and a pronoun. 42. Light, and darkness. 43. Four-
sevenths of a longing, and a preposition. 44. Four-
sixths of a flower, and a preposition. 45. A reptile, part
of an oyster, and part of a domestic fowl. 46. Part of an
elephant, part of a cat, and part of a fox. 47. A feature,
gaudy. 48. Parts of a city. 49. Part ofa stage-coach,
and a nickname. 50. A shoe-string, and part of a fish-
hook. AUNT SUE.


DOUBLE ACROSTIC.-Holmes, Lowell. I. Hill 2. O, 0. 3. Law.
4. Manceuvre. 5. Enigmatical. 6. Soul.
EASY REBUS. Up in a balloon, boys, sailing round the moon."
LATIN WORD-PYRAMID.-"Veni, vidi, vici."
I ( of Labor diei ")
I N D 1 G N I
S.. c-. ... -. Leafy. 2. Eagle. 3. Agues. 4 Flet. 5. Yesty.
'... -. rENCiS.-- Beech, beach. 2. Phrase, frays. 3.
Freeze, frieze. 4 Steak, stake.
N 1E T
CROss-WoD ENIxi'A.-Charles Dickens.
EASY ENIGMA.- Merit, remit, timer, mitre.
PIC'IORIAL AcROStic.-Fish-pond.
IF -ox-tra- P
I -ndig- O
H -ea D

PREFIX PUZZLE.--Prefix "Ex. Export, Exceed, Excel, Exile,
Extent, Exp....i- L. .. Explain, Extract, Express.
i H M II
ENIGMiA.-Washington Irving.
DECAPITATIONS.-i. Climax-limax. 2. Sirene-Irenl. 3. Mo-
rion-Orion. 4. Regret-Egret.
CONCEALED DOUBLE AcRosTIc.-Macbeth, Othello.
C -as- H`
B -a-- E
F. -asc- L
T -ota- L
H -er 0

ANI.,wssl s 1o Ptvzi.L. IN NOVEMBMER NuilEI wIere received, previous to November iS, from Arnold Guyot Cameron, Nellie S. Colby,
Katie E. Gilligan, Bettie and Laura," Cora," William'C. Delanoy, John Edward Hill, Golden Eagle," Charley W. Coleman, Florence
A. Merriam, Jamie and Lucy," Tommy W. Fry, Fannie E. Cushing, G. A. Wells, Sunflower and Hollyhock," Wm. R. Brown, Annie G ,
Rufus Nock. "G E M.," Xlanme A Johnson, William A. Crowell, Edith N. Spear, E Parmelec Prentice, William F. Abbett, George
Voorhees, Jr., and R V Beach



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