• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 The black Douglas
 The boy emigrants
 The country boy
 All for Bijou
 Toboggans and their use
 How I kept the Chinese New...
 The fate of the castaways
 Acting ballads
 The shower of gold
 Sally Watson's ride
 A puzzled boy
 Hunting the moose
 The story of Jon of Iceland
 Discontent
 The two goats
 How to make and stock an aquar...
 The little mermaid
 Who began it?
 Jack in the pulpit
 A parlor play for children
 Victor's wonderful animals, and...
 Young contributor's department
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas.
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Full Citation
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00031
 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.
 Subjects
Subject: Children's literature
Literature for Children
 Notes
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: VID00031
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 black Douglas
        Plate
        Page 209
        Page 210
    The boy emigrants
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
    The country boy
        Page 218
        Page 219
    All for Bijou
        Page 220
        Page 221
    Toboggans and their use
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
    How I kept the Chinese New Year
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
    The fate of the castaways
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
    Acting ballads
        Page 233
        Page 234
    The shower of gold
        Page 235
    Sally Watson's ride
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
    A puzzled boy
        Page 239
    Hunting the moose
        Page 240
    The story of Jon of Iceland
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
    Discontent
        Page 247
    The two goats
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
    How to make and stock an aquarium
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
    The little mermaid
        Page 257
    Who began it?
        Page 258
        Page 259
    Jack in the pulpit
        Page 260
        Page 261
    A parlor play for children
        Page 262
    Victor's wonderful animals, and what they almost did
        Page 263
        Page 264
        Page 265
    Young contributor's department
        Page 266
        Page 267
    The letter-box
        Page 268
        Page 269
    The riddle-box
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text



































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"DO NOT BE SO SURE OF THAT."


[See "The Black Douglas."]


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ST. NICHOLAS.


FEBRUARY, 1876.


THE BLACK DOUGLAS.

BY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH.


KING EDWARD I. of England nearly conquered
Scotland. They did not have photographs in
those days, but had expressive and descriptive
names for people of rank, which answered just as
well. So Edward was known as Longshanks."
It was from no lack of spirit or energy that he
did not quite complete the stubborn work, but he
died a little too soon. On his death-bed he called
his pretty, spiritless son to him, and made him
promise to carry on the war; he then ordered that
his body should be boiled in a caldron, and that his
bones should be wrapped up in a bull's hide, and
carried-at the head of the army in future campaigns
against the Scots. After these and some other
queer requests, death relieved him of the hard
politics of this world, and so he went away. Then
his son, Edward II., tucked away the belligerent
old King's bones among the bones of other old
kings in Westminster Abbey, and spent his time in
dissipation among his favorites, and allowed the
resolute Scots to recover Scotland.
Good James, Lord Douglas, was a very wise man
in his day. He may not have had long shanks, but
he had a very long head, as you shall presently see.
He was one of the hardest foes with which the two
Edwards had to contend, and his long head proved
quite too powerful for the second Edward, who, in
his single campaign against the Scots, lost at Ban-
nockburn nearly all that his father had gained.
The tall Scottish castle of Roxburgh stood near
the border, lifting its grim turrets above the Teviot
and the Tweed. When the Black Douglas, as
Lord James was called, had recovered castle after
castle from the English, he desired to gain this
stronghold, and determined to accomplish his wish.
VOL. III.-15.


But he knew it could be taken only by surprise,
and a very wily ruse it must be. He had outwitted
the English so many times, that they were sharply
on the lookout for him.
How could it be done ?
'T is an old Yule-log story, and you' shall be told.
Near the castle was a gloomy old forest, called
Jedburgh. Here, just as the first days of spring
began to kindle in the sunrise and sunsets, and
warm the frosty hills, Black Douglas concealed
sixty picked men.
It was Shrove-tide, and Fasten's Eve, immediately
before the great Church festival of Lent, was to be
celebrated with a great gush of music and blaze of
light and free offerings of wine in the great hall of
the castle. The garrison was to have leave for
merry-making and indulging in drunken wassail.
The sun had gone down in the red sky, and the
long, deep shadow began to fall on Jedburgh woods,
the river, the hills, and valleys.
An officer's wife had retired from the great hall,
where all was preparation for the merry-making, to
the high battlements of the castle, in order to quiet
her little child and put it to rest. The sentinel, from
time to time, paced near her. She began to sing:


"Hush ye,
Hush ye,
Little pet ye!
Hush ye,


Hush ye,
Do not fret ye;
The Black Douglas
Shall not get ye!"


She saw some strange objects moving across the
level ground in the distance. They greatly puzzled
her. They did not travel quite like animals, but
they seemed to have four legs.
"What are those queer-looking things yonder?"
she asked of the sentinel as he drew near.


VOL. III.


No. 4.








210 THE BLACK DOUGLAS. [FEBRUARY,


"They are Farmer Asher's cattle," said the
soldier, straining his eyes to discern the outlines of
the long figures in the shadows. The good man
is making merry to-night, and has forgotten to
bring in his oxen; lucky 't will be if they do not
fall a prey to the Black Douglas."
So sure was he that the objects were cattle, that
he ceased to watch them longer.
The woman's eye, however, followed the queer-
looking cattle for some time, until they seemed to
disappear under the outer works of the castle.
Then, feeling quite at ease, she thought she would
sing again. Spring was in the evening air; it may
have made her feel like singing.
Now the name of the Black Douglas had become
so terrible to the English that it proved a bugbear
to the children, who, when they misbehaved, were
told that the Black Douglas would get them. The
little ditty I have quoted must have been very
quieting to good children in those alarming times.
So the good woman sang cheerily:


'Hush ye,
Hush ye,
Little pet ye!
Hush ye,


Douglas," as he was called by the Scots, fought,
as I have already said, n ith King Robert Bruce at
Bannockburn. One lovely June day, in the far-
gone year of 1329, King Robert lay dying. He
called Douglas to his bedside, and told him that
it had been one of the dearest wishes of his heart
to go to the Holy Land and reco4ie Jerusalem from
the Infidels; but since he could not go, he wished
him to embalm his heart after his death, and carry
it to the Holy City and deposit it in the Holy
Sepulcher.
Douglas had the heart of Bruce embalmed and
inclosed in a silver case, and wore it on a silver
chain about his neck. He set out for Jerusalem,
but resolved first to visit Spain and engage in the


Hush ye,
Do not fret ye;
The Black Douglas
Shall not get ye!"


"Do NOT BE SO SURE OF THAT said a husky
voice close beside her, and a mail-gloved hand fell
solidly upon her shoulder. She was dreadfully
frightened, for she knew from the appearance of
the man he must be the Black Douglas.
The Scots came leaping over the walls. The
garrison was merry-making below, and, almost be-
fore the disarmed revelers had any warning, the
Black Douglas was in the midst of them. The old
stronghold was taken, and many of the garrison
were put to the sword; but the Black Douglas
spared the woman and the child, who probably
never afterward felt quite so sure about the little
ditty:
"Hush ye,
Hush ye,
Do not fret ye;
The Black Douglas
Shall not get ye "

It is never well to be too sure, you know.
Douglas had caused his picked men to approach
the castle by walking on their hands and knees,
with long black cloaks thrown over their bodies,
and their ladders and weapons concealed under
their cloaks. The men' thus presented very nearly
the appearance of a herd of cattle in the deep
shadows, and completely deceived the sentinel,
who was probably thinking more of the music and
dancing below than of the watchful enemy who had
been haunting the gloomy woods of Jedburgh.
The Black Douglas, or "Good James, Lord


MELROSE ABBEY.
war waged against the Moorish King of Grenada.
He fell in Andalusia, in battle. Just before his
death, he threw the silver casket into the thickest
of the fight, exclaiming': Heart of Bruce, I follow
thee or die "
His dead body was found beside the casket, and
the heart of Bruce was brought back to Scotland
and deposited in the ivy-clad Abbey of Melrose.
Douglas was a real hero, and few things more
engaging than his exploits were ever told under the
holly and mistletoe, or in the warm Christmas light
of the old Scottish Yule-logs.


210


THE BLACK DOUGLAS.


[FEBRUARY,







156jT E O M GR N S 1


THE BOY EMIGRANTS.

BY NOAH BROOKS.


CHAPTER VII.
TROUBLE IN THE CAMP.
THE next few days of travel were very wearisome
and tedious. The road was a dull level, stretching
along by the banks of the Platte River. Repeated
rains had made the ground soft, and the teams
moved with great difficulty, for all of the emigrants
were loaded heavily. From Council Bluffs to Salt
Lake City was an uninterrupted wilderness, with
only here and there a little trading-post. The pro-
visions consumed on the trip could not be replaced
until the Mormon capital was reached; and even
at that place only flour and meat could be bought
at reasonable prices. So the supplies of groceries,
clothing, and other goods needed for the journey
must. last from the Missouri to the Sacramento.
The weather was warm,.and our young emigrants
found it very uncomfortable trudging along in the
heat of the day, with the sun's rays pouring down
upon them. Hi grumbled a great deal at the dis-
agreeable things he had to encounter. It was
disagreeable walking, and disagreeable driving. It
was particularly disagreeable to be pursued as they
were by mosquitoes. At night, while they camped
in the flat valley of the Platte, these pests were
simply intolerable.
Let's make a smudge, boys," said Barnard,
one night, when they had in vain tried to eat their
supper in comfort. Mosquitoes in clouds hovered
about their heads, filling their eyes, ears and noses,
and making the air shrill with their music.
We might as well be smoked to death as stung
to death," growled Hi. "I never see ; ...ii.rn so
disagreeable. It's wus. than small-pox."
So the .boys collected some hazel-boughs and
grass, made a fire on the ground and covered it
with the green stuff, and soon had a thick cloud of
stifling smoke about them. The mosquitoes seemed
to cough a little among themselves, and then they
gradually withdrew in disgust.
That worries the pests," said Mont. I think
I see five or six hundred of them on that hazel
brush, waiting for the thing to blow over; then
they will make another rush at us."
"Yes," added Hi, "and there's one big he
feller; I see him now, cavorting through the under-
brush like mad. He got some smoke in his left
eye, and he 'll make us smart for it when he comes
back. Ugh ugh! but this smoke is wuss than
git-out. I can't stand it no longer!"-and Hi,


choking with the effects of the "smudge," seized
his plate of bread and bacon, and ran. The others
staid as long as they could, and then left everything
and retired to a little distance from the fire. The
mosquitoes were ready for them, and descended
upon them in millions.
The boys, finishing their supper as best they
might, got inside the tent, leaving a circle of
smoking fire-heaps all about it. Sleep was impos-
sible that night. They visited some of the neigh-
boring camps, of which there were a great many;
and everybody was fighting mosquitoes. Smolder-
ing fires were kindled all about, and public feeling
ran very high against the great nuisance of the
night. One man remarked that there ought to
be a mass meeting called and resolutions passed.
Another suggested that the mosquitoes were the
original settlers on the place, and that they had
rights which even a white man was bound to
respect.
During the night, too, the cattle, which were
chained up as usual, were so frantic with the annoy-
ance that they were in danger of injuring them-
selves. They ran to and fro with their short
allowance of chain, snorted, tore the earth, and
lashed themselves into a frenzy. It was decided to
unyoke them and take the chances of finding them
in the morning. "Tige," as soon as he was at
liberty, walked deliberately up to one of the smudge
fires, where he turned his tail toward it and stood
contentedly chewing his cud.
Sagacious Tige," said Mont, I believe I will
follow your example."
Tige appreciated this compliment, apparently,
for he lay down, having tested the value of smoke
as a shield against mosquitoes. Mont rolled him-
self in his blanket and lay down by another fire,
arid managed to sleep almost as well as Tige. The
others did the same, though it was hard work to
keep up the fires and find sleep also. Arthur woke
up long before daybreak, with the insects buzzing
and stinging about his face. He jumped up in
sheer desperation and ran wildly out on the level
road, half-a-mile or more, without stopping. He
could hear the bodies of the mosquitoes striking
on his hat as he fled. Then he turned and ran
back again, leaving a long train of the pests behind
him. But they caught up with him by the time he
had reached the camp. In despair, he covered his
Head with a blanket and sat down by a tree trunk
to sleep again, having first stirred up a good


r876.i


THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


211






THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


smudge for Tige, who looked on complacently at
this provision for his comfort. Arthur stooped and
brushed a few mosquitoes from Tige's black muzzle,
and the steer looked up at him intelligently, as if
to say, Hard lilies, these, my boy."
Arouse ye arouse ye my merry Swiss boys !"
sung Mont, bright and early next morning, while
the rest of the party were yet struggling with mos-
quitoes in their dreams. "We have a long drive
to the crossing of Loup Fork, to-day; and if we
don't get there in good season, we shall have to
wait a whole day to get a chance on the ferry."
The boys turned out of their various lairs with
many expressions of discomfort. They had had a
tiresome day's travel and almost no rest at all.
The air was now moist and warm, with the promise
of another hot day. They were smarting with
mosquito bites, and were generally uncomfortable.
Well, I allow this is reely disagreeable," said
Hi, half sitting up, clasping his hands across his
knees and looking excessively miserable.
The picture of Hi, squatted there forlornly, with
his hat crumpled over his head, his face blotched
with bites, and his eyes heavy with sleep, was too
funny for Barnard, who laughed outright and said:
Well, I declare, Hi, but you do look like the
very last rose of summer that ever was "
See here, Barney Crogan said Hi, angrily,
"I don't want none of your sass.' And I jest give
you notice of that."
What are you going to do about it ?" sharply
replied Barnard, who felt his anger rising. You
sit there like a bump on a log, saying that things
are 'disagreeable,' and I don't see that that helps
it."
"Well, I don't want anybody's chin about it,-
that's what I don't want. And I allow I aint agoin'
to stand no nonsense from a feller that don't take
his regular spell at driving. "
"What do you mean ?" said Barnard, advancing
threateningly toward Hi, who, by this time, had
risen to his feet and stood with his blanket still
clinging about him. "What do you mean? If
you mean to say that I don't do my share of work,
I '11 "
"Oh, stop! stop! boys," interposed Mont.
There 's really no use of quarreling. I suppose
we all feel cross and unhappy, after such a miser-
able night. I'm sure I do. But we need n't
quarrel."
"Who's quarrelin', I'd like to know. I aint.
It's that stuck-up -- "
But before he had time to finish his sentence,
Mont had playfully put his hand on Hi's mouth,
saying:
"Well, I know I am a stuck-up Boston chap,
but I'11 try to get over it."


Barnard was secretly amused at this ingenious
turn, but he was too angry to say anything, and he
turned his attention to the cattle.
Tom and Johnny, the latter somewhat alarmed
at the warlike appearance of things in camp, scoured
the underbrush for dry wood for their breakfast
fire.
If Barney had sassed me like that," commented
Tom, when out of earshot of his elders, "I would
have punched his head for him."
"Appears to me that Hi had no cause to fire up
so-Barney did n't mean anything; and I'm sure
Hi did look queer-like, sitting there with his hat
mussed and his head all swelled up."
I'1 swell your head for ye, yer ongrateful little
weasel. You're always takin' Crogan's side "-and
Tom dealt him a blow behind the ear. Johnny
tumbled over a clump of brush, crying, not so
,much with pain as with anger and mortification.
Tom only muttered, Yer can't sass me, ye know."
Loaded with their fuel, they went back to the
camp, where Arthur, with a lowering brow, was
busy over the fire, making ready for breakfast.
What's the matter with you ?" he asked with
amazement and some asperity, as he noticed the
tears on Johnny's face.
I punched his head for sass," said Tom, de-
fiantly.
Without a word, Arthur banged Tom over the
head with the sheet-iron stove-cover, which he hap-
pened to have in his hand. Tom felt the indig-
nity, for his face was covered with soot and his eyes
smarted. But, before he could get at Arthur, who
stood by the stove, his eyes sparkling, and his lithe
young form swelling with anger, Mont had seized
Tom and drawn him away. Johnny threw himself
on Arty and entreated him not to fight on his
account, meanwhile protesting that it was nothing
at all.
Luckily, the other late combatants were not at
hand, and Mont, helping Tom to remove the soot
from his face and hair, soothed his angry feelings
and asked him to promise to leave off quarreling.
You should n't have struck little Johnny; you
know that, Tom. He is a little chap, much smaller
than you, and it was a cowardly thing for you to
knock him over."
"But that's no reason why Art should whack
me over the snoot with a griddle," answered the
lad.
"Certainly not, certainly not; but he did that
in a moment of passion. I dare say he is sorry for
it by this time. If he is not, I shall be sorry for
Arty; he usually means to do what is right. It
was wrong for him to strike you; there's no doubt
about that. But you will forgive him, if he asks
you ? "


212


[FEBRUARY,








x876.] THE BOY EMIGRANTS. 213


I allow he wont ask," said Tom, with great
grimness.
"But if he does ?"
"All right, let him come on. I 'm ready for
him, anyway."
It was not a merry party which sat down to
breakfast together that morning. Mont found it
difficult to keep up an animated conversation. Hi
had only one word, and that was "disagreeable."
Perhaps they should not have eaten much break-
fast, as the usual result of bad feelings is to destroy
one's appetite. On the plains this rule does not














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HIRAM.

always hold good. I am bound to say that they
ate very heartily, for they had had almost no sup-
per on the night before.
When the cattle were yoked up and the caravan
was ready to move, Mont picked up the whip and
said, with a cheery look at the others:
"Let me drive to-day."
Yer can't," said Hi, stiffly, but not unkindly.
Let me try, and Mont moved off with the
team as steadily as if he had driven oxen all his
life. He had watched Hi and Barnard, and had
practiced some with the cattle when they were


turned out at noon, yoked together, for their short
rest. Molly, the skittish little cow, would occa-
sionally gee," or bolt out of the track, which was
a great source of annoyance even to Hi, for Molly
was on the "off" side, and it was sometimes neces-
sary to run around the head of the cattle to get the
mischievous animal back into the track again. But
Mont got on capitally; he walked by the side of
the docile and knowing Tige, who seemed able to
keep all the rest of the team in good spirits. Tige
was fond of potatoes, sugar, bread, and many other
luxuries usually denied to cattle; and Mont kept
on good terms with the queer little steer by carry-
ing the odds and ends of his own rations in his
pocket for Tige.
But even Tige's good-nature, combined with that
of Mont, could not cheer up the rest of the party.
Little Johnny, perched on old Jim's back, paced
along beside the wagon, never galloping off on
brief excursions by the roadside, as he usually did
when allowed to ride the horse. Hi trudged along
sulkily behind; Arthur walked on ahead to Loup
Fork ferry; and Barney, contrary to rules and
usage, climbed into the wagon, where, on top of
the load and close against the wagon-bows, he went
to sleep.
Before noon they reached the ferry, so long
looked for and talked about. The Loup is one of
the forks of the North Platte, and in those days it
was crossed by a rope-ferry, which some enter-
prising man had put in there. A long scow, large
enough to take on two wagons, with the usual
number of cattle, slid across the stream, attached
by slings and pulleys to a rope tightly stretched
from shore to shore. The current was swift, and,
by keeping the scow partly headed up stream, the
pressure from above forced the unwieldy craft
across.
Here were numerous teams waiting their chance
to cross, each being numbered in turn. Some of
them had waited two days for their turn to come;
but to-day their number had been reduced by the
departure of several who had gone to a place farther
up the Fork, where it was reported that a ford had
been found. Our party ascertained that they could
cross by sundown; so they unhitched their cattle
and waited, having first paid the ten dollars for fer-
riage which the avaricious ferry-keeper demanded
for each team.
The young fellows took this opportunity to rest.
Barnard sat lazily on the bank, angling for catfish.
Hi climbed into the wagon and went to sleep.
Mont chatted with the ferry-master, who sat in the
door-way of his log hut and surveyed the busy
scene below him with the air of a wealthy pro-
prietor.
I should suppose that you would get the gold-


x876.]


THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


213






THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


fever, seeing so many people pressing on to the
mines," said Mont.
The ferryman chuckled, and, waving his pipe
toward the rude ferry, said :
"Thar's my gold mine. Ten dollars a pop."
Yes, that's so. I suppose you are making a
mint of money."
Not so dreffle much, not so dreffle much," the
man replied, uneasily. Ye see, repairs and w'ar
and t'ar are mighty bindin' on a man, cl'ar out
hyar on the plains. Why, I hev to go cl'ar to
K'arney for every scrap of anything."
But your receipts must be enormous. Let me
see, you can make at least twelve trips a day; you
get, say twenty dollars at each trip, sometimes
more, and that is two hundred and forty dollars
a day !"
Powerful smart on figgers, you be, young fel-
ler," said the man, and he laughed with a cunning
leer in his eye at Mont.
Meanwhile, Tom leaned over the slight fence
with which the ferryman had inclosed his gar-
ding," as he called it. He coveted the young
onions just beginning to show their bulbs half out
of the warm soil; and he meditated on the scarcity
of potatoes which their appetites were making in
their own stores. Arthur came up and laid his
hand on Tom's shoulder, and looked over too.
Looks something like home, don't it, Tom ?"
"Yes," replied Tom. I was just a-thinkin'
how dad never would plant garden truck. Always
wheat, wheat, wheat. Blast the wheat, when a
feller has to go to the neighbors for garden sass."
"But, then, we sometimes get 'sass' without
going for it," said Arty, with a smile.
Tom's face darkened at this allusion to the diffi-
culties of the morning; but Arty continued:
I am real sorry, Tom, that I struck you as I
did. It was awful mean, and I did n't intend it."
Yes, you did. How else could you done it?"
"Well, Tom, it's a hard case to explain. My
hand just flew up before I knew what I was about.
The first thing I knew I had hit you. Come now,
I tell you I am sorry, and I want to make up."
"All right," grumbled Tom.
"You forgive me, honor bright ? Well, give us
your hand."
Tom looked around awkwardly at Arthur, for he
had kept his eyes fixed on the onion-bed during
this brief dialogue. He glanced into Arthur's
pleasant, boyish face, and said frankly :
Quits we 'll call it square, and there's my fist
on it."
As the sun began to drop behind the horizon,
the turn for our young party to cross came at last.
They had waited nearly ten hours, and were right
glad when they were able to see that the way across


was clear for them. The scow could not reach the
farther shore, as there was a long shallow all along
that side. So the clumsy craft was run across until
it grounded; then a wooden flap, or apron, was let
down, and the teams were driven out into the water,
wading the rest of the way. It was a poor way of
crossing a stream, but it was the best thing prac-
ticable then and there.
With much hallooing, shouting, and running
hither and thither, the cattle were driven into the
scow. The current was swift and the channel deep;
the crossing looked perilous, especially when the
cattle were restive. Molly was particularly trouble-
some, and Hi went around on that side to quiet
her. She would not be quieted, and, with one
vicious toss of her horns, she lifted Hi by his leather
belt. In another moment he was overboard, strug-
gling in the stream.
No one else was on that side-the upper one-of
the boat; but Barney saw the accident, and ex-
claiming, "He can't swim! he can't swim !" rushed
around to the rear of the craft, pulling off his clothes
as he ran.
All was confusion, the scow being crowded with
men, cattle and teams. The frail craft quivered in
the tide, while the bewildered boatmen were puzzled
what to do. Diving under the rear wagon, Barney
reached the gunwale 6f the boat just in time to see
Hi's hands clutching ineffectually at the edge. He
made a lunge and seized one hand as it disappeared,
and, falling on his knees, reached over and grabbed
Hi's shoulders.
"Never mind, Barney boy, I'm on bottom,"
said Hi. Just then he stood on his feet, and the
boat grounded on the shoal.
Barnard drew a long sigh of relief, and looked
for an instant straight down into Hi's blue eyes.
They were friends again.
Hi was helped on board, none the worse for his
unexpected ducking. They drove off the scow,
waded across the shoal, and struggled up the bank
with much turmoil and bother. They camped near
the river, surrounded by a cordon of smudge-fires.
The mosquitoes troubled them very much; but,
notwithstanding that, they passed the evening very
cheerily. Tom observed, with much inward sur-
prise, that Hi had exchanged his wet clothes for a
spare suit of Barney's.
And yet Hi had clothes enough of his own !

CHAPTER VIII.
SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES.
FOR many days after leaving Columbus, as the
ferryman facetiously called his log-house, our emi-
grants traveled with an immense company. One
train alone had nearly two hundred head of cattle,


214


[FEBRUARY,







TIE O EIRAT. 1


either in yoke or loose, and fifteen wagons. It was
a brave sight to see this long caravan winding along
the track, with its white-covered wagons gleaming
in the sun, and the animals walking along behind
in the most orderly manner. Many of the men were
on horseback, and they skirmished to the rear, to
the front, or by the flanks of the train as it moved.
Arthur declared that it looked like a traveling circus
or menagerie, a comparison which was made more
striking by the dress of the emigrants. They wore
all sorts of queer garments, which they had picked
up from abandoned camps. In those days of the
gold rush, people were reckless about waste, and
the trail was strewn, in many places, with valuable
goods, thrown away by emigrants who were in such
haste to get on that they were continually over-
hauling their loads to see what they could leave
behind to lighten them.
These things were picked up by those who came
after, only to be again thrown out for others to find
and reject. One of the emigrants, attached to this
long Missouri train, wore a woman's straw bonnet,
of the Shaker pattern, with a large green cape.
Another was decorated with a richly embroidered
hunting-frock, of Pawnee make; and he wore a
black silk "stove-pipe "hat, surmounted with a tall
eagle-plume. Some of the women of this company
rode well, and'one little girl, riding a fiery Texan
pony, seated astride, excited much admiration by
her skillful management of her steed. A party of
Pawnees, who had lodges, or "tepees," near by,
grouped themselves on a little knoll and gazed on
this passing show with great solemnity.
At camping-time, some of these red children of
the desert came to the tent of our young emigrants
begging and selling moccasins. The Pawnee moc-
casin is a plain, inartistic affair, shaped almost ex-
actly like the foot of a stocking, with one seam
running from the heel downward and lengthwise
through the sole and up to the instep over the toe.
But as these were the first of wild Indian manu-
facture that the boys had ever seen, each was
eager to secure at least one pair at eighteen cents
each.
These Indians were dressed in buckskin hunting-
shirts and leggings, were bare-headed, and wore a
coarse blanket slung about them. One of them
produced from a dirty buckskin pouch a piece of
paper which he impressively submitted to Mont,
as the apparent leader of the party, saying as he
did so, Heap good Indian me!" The paper read
as follows:
This Indian, Mekonee, otherwise known as The-Man-that-Champs-
with-his-Teeth, wants a recommendation. I give it with pleasure.
He is a lying, thieving, vagabond Pawnee. He will steal the tires
off of-your wagon-wheels and the buttons from your trousers. Watch
him. (Signed) JAKE DAWSON,
And thirteen others of the Franklin Grove Company.


Heap good Indian me," said The-Man-that-
Champs-with-his-Teeth, when the boys had exam-
ined his document.
Oh, yes," said Hi, I allow you are the only
good Indian that aint dead yet."
The-Man-that-Champs-with-his-Teeth assented
with a grunt of approval, folded up his "recom-
mendation" and put it carefully away, as a very
precious thing. While he was walking softly about
the camp, as if looking for something to steal, an-
other of the tribe dived into the bosom of his hunt-
ing shirt and extracted a lump of dough. Holding
it out to Arthur, who was getting ready the supper,
he made signs toward the stove and said, Cook
him ? "
Arthur assented, but Barnard cried, No, no,
Arthur Don't let that rascal's dough go into our
oven. He has stolen it somewhere, and has car-
ried it about in his dirty clothes, nobody knows
how long."
I'11 let him cook it on top of the stove then,"
said Arthur; and the Pawnee put his cake on the
outside of the camp-stove, where Arthur covered it
with a tin dish. The Indian, with an expression
of intense satisfaction, squatted by the hot stove,
and never took his eyes off of it until his dough
was bread and delivered, blazing hot, into his hand.
The Indians carried bows and arrows, and one
had a battered army-musket, which he declared,
proudly, was "heap good-kill buffalo six mile
off." This piece of brag tickled Hi so much that
the Indian seized that opportunity to beg powder,
shot or lead. These were not given him; and he
renewed his application for "whisk" (whisky) or
"sugee" (sugar), both of which the Indians par-
ticularly covet. These persistent beggars got very
little for their trouble, Arthur having vainly inter-
ceded in behalf of The-Man-that-Champs-with-his-
Teeth, who offered to give "heap moccasin for
a red silk handkerchief of Barnard's which he very
much desired.
"Where you from?" asked the Indian, as if
attracted by Arthur's good-natured and pleasant
face.
From Richardson, Lee County, Illinois," said
Arthur. "You know, it is the land of the prairie,
one of the great States that belong to your Great
Father and mine. The people in that land are
many; they are like the leaves on the trees, they
.are so many. They are going to the land of the
setting sun, where the gold shines in the waters of
the Sacramento. The pale-faces are covering the
continent. They will leave no room for the red
man, the deer and the buffalo. Are you not sorry
for this ?"
SWhisk," said the red man, stolidly.
"A good oration, Arty laughed Mont. "But


THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


215






THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


Mr. Man-that-Champs-with-his-Teeth don't under-
stand it. He understands 'whisk' and 'sugee,'
and he don't care for the pale-faces as long as he
gets these. Look out! there goes the cover of
your camp kettle !"
Arthur turned just in time to see the Indian who
was squatted by the stove calmly fold his arms over
a suspicious bunch in his blanket. Mont stalked
over, pulled the blanket from the Indian's unresist-
ing arm, and the iron cover rolled out upon the
ground. The copper-colored rascal smiled cun-
ningly, as one should say, I missed it that time,
but never mind. It's a good joke on me." After
that the boys mounted guard at night, watch and
watch, as they had been told long before that it
would be necessary to do while passing through the
Indian country.
Next to "wild" Indians, the boys longed for a
sight of the buffalo on his native plain. This came
in due time. They had passed up the long tongue
of land which lies between Loup Fork and the
Platte, and had reached a small stream making in
from the north and known as Wood River. Cross-
ing this, they bore off to the north-west, with the
little river on their right.
One hot afternoon, while the party were wearily
dragging themselves along, Barnard went ahead
with the horse to spy out a good camping-place.
Arthur walked on in advance of the team in the
dusty road, half asleep, and feeling as if he would
be happy if he could fall down in the dust and take
a long nap. It was very tiresome, this continual
tramp, tramp, tramp, with each day's journey
making almost no difference in their advance.
Arthur grumbled to himself, and scarcely heard
the boyish talk of Johnny, who trudged along with
him. Once in a while he felt himself dropping to
sleep as he walked. His heavy eyes closed; he lost
sight of the yellow wagon-track, the dusty grass,
and the earth which seemed to reel; the blinding
glare of the sun was gone for an instant, and he
stumbled on as in a dream. Then he nearly fell
over forward, and he knew that he had slept by the
painful start of awaking. He looked dreamily at
the rough soil by the side of the trail, dimly long-
ing to lie down and sleep, sleep, sleep. Johnny
said : Oh my Arty what big black cattle "
Arty looked languidly across the river, which was
now only a narrow, woody creek. In an instant
his sleepiness was gone.
"Buffaloes! buffaloes!" he shouted, and, very
wide awake indeed, ran back to the wagon. He
was in a fever of excitement, and the news he
brought set his comrades into commotion. Every-
body rushed for his favorite firearm, Tom extract-
ing his long-unused revolver from the wagon,
where it lay unloaded.


"Now, boys, we can't all go over-the creek,"
said Hi. "You, Tom, stay here with the team.
Mont, Arty and I will go over and see if we can
knock over a brace of them buffaloes."
Tom handled his revolver with a very bad grace,
but was mollified when Johnny said he would stay,
and they might see the buffaloes cross over and
break through the woods below. The banks of the
creek were filled with a thick growth of box-elders,
but through some of the gaps they could see five
buffaloes quietly feeding in a V-shaped meadow
formed by the junction of two small branches of
Wood River.
"We must get above them," said Hi, as they
were reconnoitering, or they will make off by
that open place. If we take 'em in the rear they
can't mizzle so easy-like."
Mont thought it unsafe to go to the upper part
of the meadow, because the wind came from that
direction. "And they are very sensitive to any
unusual odor in the air," added Arthur. "They
can smell a man two miles off, when they are to the
leeward." The boy was trembling with excitement
at the sight of this large game, but he remembered
his natural history for all that. Even as he spoke
one of the feeding buffaloes lifted his large shaggy
head and :i .,.:I. suspiciously to the windward.
The three young fellows separated, Arthur going
down the creek, Hi up toward the open, and Mont

crossing in the middle of the V, directly opposite
where the animals were feeding. They were huge
fellows, ponderously moving about and nibbling
the short, tender grass. Their humped shoulders
were covered with dark, shaggy hair, and their
long, beard-like dewlaps nearly swept the ground
as they bent their heads to graze. They were not
in very good condition, apparently, and the hide
of one of them was clouded with a dingy, yellowish
tinge. "Just like our old sleigh-robe," secretly
commented Arthur to himself, as he lay, breathless,
on the further side of the creek, waiting for a signal
from Hi.
Suddenly, to his amazement, a shot burst out
from the brush on the farther side of the meadow,
and, as the alarmed animals dashed away like cats,
another report banged out from the same spot. The
buffaloes, scattering in different directions, were
almost immediately out of reach. Two pitched
down into the creek near where they were feeding,
but on the other side, and so disappeared in the
woods beyond. One broke through the timber
just below where Arthur was posted, scrambled
across the gully, and, with incredible agility, crashed
through into the road near the wagon, where Tom
gallantly, but ineffectually, assaulted him with his
"pepper-box" revolver as he galloped away. The
fourth raced up the V-shaped meadow, receiving a


216


[FEBRUARY,







1876.3 THE BOY EMIGRANTS. 217


shot from Mont's musket and from Hi's rifle in his
rapid flight. The fifth made as if he would plunge
down into the creek at the foot of the meadow, but,.
baulked by something, turned and raced up the
side of the triangle next the road, heading directly
for Arthur, who was concealed behind a bush.
"Now or never," said the boy, with his heart stand-
ing still and his eye glancing along the sights of
his rifle.
The buffalo was coming directly toward him,
his head down and his enormous feet pounding


Arthur looked on with heart beating and said:
"I fired at him, too."
All this took place in a very few minutes. The
firing in all directions was almost simultaneous.
Mont and Hi came running up, chagrined at their
ill luck, but excited by the sight of this first buffalo.
"Who shot him?" eagerly cried Hi, who had
not seen what happened below him.
Well, I allow that I'm the fortnit individooal,"
said the stranger. "Leastways, thar's my mark,"
and he inserted his finger into a smooth round hole


; ; T- '----- -....
". i ^.,, ;:---"' ,. '>*i~i^ :. \r,,^
S',


.^


L -


ARTHUR AND THE BUFFALO.


the earth. Arthur fired, and the buffalo swerved
sharply to the right; at the same instant another
shot came from the opposite side of the meadow.
The buffalo ambled on for a few paces, fell on his
knees, dug his horns madly into the ground, rolled
over on his side and was still.
As Arthur, scarcely believing his. eyes, ran out
into the open, a tall young fellow, carrying a dou-
ble-barreled shot gun, rushed up from the other
side, and, drawing his hunting-knife, cut the ani-
mal's throat. There was no need. The great
creature was dead.
My fust buffalo," said the stranger, drawing
himself up proudly.


in the center of the animal's forehead, directly be-
tween and a little above the eyes.
"That's just where I aimed," said Arthur, with
some excitement.
"No, little chap," said the stranger, supercili-
ously, "I seen you shoot, and your ball must 'a
gone clean over him. Mine'sa slug. No ornery
rifle ball 's goin' to kill a critter like this," and he
gave the dead- monster a touch with his boot.
"Let's look at that ball," said Mont, curiously,
as the emigrant handled one of the clumsy slugs
which had been fitted for the big bore of his gun.
Taking it in his hand and glancing at the wound
in the head of the buffalo, he stooped to put it into


1876.J


THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


217


;, :
7 -


o-






THE COUNTRY BOY.


the wound. The skull was pierced with a sharply
defined hole. The stranger's slug rested in the
edge of it like a ball in a cup.
"That ball don't go into that hole, stranger,"
said Mont. The mate of it never went in there.
Give me a ball, Arty." And Mont, taking one of
Arty's rifle-balls, slipped it in at the wound; it
dropped inside with difficulty and was gone.
"It's a clear case, Cap," said Hi. "You may
as well give it up. That buffalo belongs to our
camp, and Arty's the boy that fetched him-you
bet ye."
Well," said the stranger, discontentedly," thar 's
no need o' jawin' about it. I allow thar's meat
enough for all hands. I'11 pitch in and help dress
the critter, anyhow," and he stripped for work.
There was certainly no need of disputing over
the dead buffalo. It was Arthur's game, however,
clearly enough. He received the congratulations
of his friends with natural elation, but-with. due
modesty. He crossed the creek agaih for knives to
help prepare the buffalo meat for immediate use.
Barnard had come tearing back down the road at
the sound of fire-arms, and now stood waiting with,
"What luck? what luck?" as Arty waded the
creek, as yet unconscious of his having been up to
his waist in the stream a few minutes before.
Arty told his story with some suppressed excite-
ment, but without any self-glorification. The water


fairly stood in Barnard's joyful eyes as he clapped
his young brother on the back and said, Good for
you, my old pard." You see Barnard was begin-
ning to catch the slang of the plains.
They camped right there and then. The buffalo
was dressed and the choice parts cut off and cooled
in the air, for the sun was now low and night com-
ing on. The stranger's comrades, camped on the
north side of Wood River, came over and helped
the party of amateur butchers, and earned their
share of fresh meat, which was all they could carry
away and take care of. This was a luxury in the
camp. The emigrants had had almost no fresh
meat since leaving the Missouri River. Small
game was scarce, and only a few birds, shot at rare
intervals, had given variety to their daily fare.
The boys stood expectantly around the camp-
stove as the operation of frying buffalo steaks went
on under the superintendence of Mont and Arthur.
Sniffing the delicious odor of the supper which had
been so unexpectedly given them, Barnard said,
"Obliged to you, Arty, for this fresh beef. You
know I hate bacon."
"And the best of it is," added little Johnny,
"there 's enough of it to go round."
"Which is more than some chaps can say of
their pie," said Barnard.
Arty raised his hot face from the frying-pan and
laughed.


(To be continued.)


THE COUNTRY BOY.

By LUCY LARCOM.


" I PITY the poor little country boy,
Away on his lonely farm!
The holidays bring him no elegant toy;
He has no money, there is no shop;
Even Christmas morning his work does n't stop:
He has cows to milk,-he has wood to chop,
And to carry in on his arm."

Did you hear that, Fred, as you came through
the gate,
With your milk-pail full to the brim?
No envy hid under your curly brown pate,-


You were watching a star in the morning sky,
And a star seemed shining out of your eye;
Your thoughts were glad, you could n't tell why;
But they were not of toys, or of him.

Yet the city boy said what he kindly meant,
Walking on by his mother's side,
With his eyes on the toy-shop windows bent,
Wishing for all that his eyes could see;
Longing and looking and teasing went he,
Nor dreamed that a single pleasure could be
Afar in your woodlands wide.


218


[FEBRUARY,








~576.l THE COUNTRY BOY. 219


You ate your breakfast that morning, Fred,
As a country boy should eat;
Then you jumped with your father upon the sled,
And were off to the hills for a load of wood;
Quiet and patient the oxen stood,
And the snowy world looked cheerful and good,
While you stamped to warm your feet.

Then your father told you to take a run;
And you started away up the hill;
You were all alone, but it was such fun!
The larch and the pine-tree seemed racing past
Instead of yourself, you went so fast;
But, rosy and out of breath, at last
You stood in the sunshine still.

And all of a sudden there came the thought,-
While a brown leaf toward you whirled,
And a chickadee sang, as if they brought
Something they meant on purpose for you,
As if the trees.to delight you grew,
As if the sky for your sake was blue,-
" It is such a beautiful world "

The graceful way that the spruce-trees had
Of holding their soft, white load,
You saw and admired; and your heart was glad,
As you laid on. the trunk of a beech your hand,


And beheld the wonderful mountains stand
In a chain of crystal, clear and grand,
At the end of the widening road.

Oh, Fred! without knowing, you held a gift
That a mine of gold could not buy:
Something the soul of a man to lift
From the tiresome earth, and to make him see
How beautiful common things can be,-
A glimpse of heaven in a'wayside tree,-
The gift of an artist's eye!

What need had you of money, my boy,
Or the presents money can bring,
When every breath was a breath of joy?
You owned the whole world, with its hills and trees,
The sun, and the clouds, and the bracing breeze,
And your hands to work with; having these,
You were richer than any king.

When the dusk drew on, by the warm hearth fire,
You needed nobody's pity;
But you said, as the soft flames mounted higher,
And the eye and cheek of your mother grew
bright,
While she smiled and talked in the lovely light-
A picture of pictures, to your sight,-
" I am sorry for boys in the city "


-~~i~~~ ~----


it


FEBRUARY.


1876.]


THE COUNTRY BOY.


219






ALL FOR BIJOU.


ALL FOR BIJOU.
(A Story of German Life.)

BY MRS. W. S. PHILLIPS,


"WHERE in the world can Bijou be?" asked
Mrs. Dr. Kruger of her little maid Lisa, as she
came into the room to set the tea-table. I have
not seen him this whole afternoon."
Bijou said Lisa, rattling the blue china cups.
"I think the little rascal must be out in the gar-
den."
"Lisa, I have told you over and over again that
I do not like to hear my dog called a rascal-a
beautiful spaniel like that!-and you know he
ought not to be left long out of doors in winter."
"You told me to take him there, for a little
walk, Mrs. Kruger; and as I had to come in soon
myself, and as he was so pleased to run about, I
left him, and-- "
That was nearly two hours ago, Lisa, and the
snow is on the ground. Such a delicate little creat-
ure,'petted and cared for as he is, may take a vio-
lent cold; it may kill him. Oh, Lisa! do go down
at once."
-" I will go bring him in "-and Lisa left the room.
Mrs. Kruger shook her head at the thought of
the carelessness of her usually attentive little maid.
Poor Bijou! It was a bitter cold day, and the
clock in the hall had just struck five; at half-past
five Dr. Kruger would return from his visits to his
city patients. He was a good, kind doctor, whom
everybody loved; indeed some of the children said
they liked to be sick, now and then, because it
was so pleasant to have Dr. Kruger come to see
them. Soon after six o'clock, the Doctor's nephew,
Lieutenant Sporenberg, would make his appear-
ance, and spend the evening with them. The Doc-
tor had brought Bijou home as a birthday present
to his wife, the year before; and as there were no
children in the house, the little creature had become
a very great pet with them both, and the Lieutenant
never came without a sugar-plum, or some other
nice thing, in his pocket for Bijou.
As Lisa did not return soon, Mrs. Kruger began
to be rather uneasy. She went to the window, but
if was too dark to see anything in the garden.
Suddenly the girl burst into the room, wringing
her hands, and, throwing herself on a chair by the
door, began to wipe her eyes with her apron, ex-
claiming through her sobs:
"Oh, it is too dreadful! it is too dreadful!"
What is the matter, Lisa? Do tell me what is
the matter? "
Lisa cried the more.


Lisa you must tell me what is the matter. I
will know it. Is Bijou frozen to death ? "
"No, no! it is not that. Oh! oh! not frozen;
but those dreadful men."
"What men ? What dreadful men ? "
They have stolen him "
But, Lisa, how could any one dare ?"
All I know is that Bijou is not there, and there
are marks of men's boots in the snow on top of the
wall, and on the ground, too. They have stolen
him-the dear dog; and-oh! oh! oh!-I am
afraid they will kill him."
"Kill my Bijou !" cried Mrs. Kruger, struck
with horror at the idea; "my beautiful Bijou!"
And mistress and maid sobbed in concert.
What will the Doctor say?" asked Mrs. Kru-
ger, as the clock struck six. He is half an hour
late; but he will soon be here. How can I tell
him Bijou is gone? He always said I must
never allow him to be long in the snow. Oh, if
you only had staid with him, and held him by his
ribbon "
Poor Lisa could only cry the harder. "Yes,"
said she, at last, sobbing between almost every
word, "I know it is all my fault; and misfortunes
never come singly, and I suppose I shall be turned
away for this, and nobody else will take me. I
feel .- '. -i, indeed I do, Mrs. Kruger. If he
is not found I-I '11 just go to the river and drown
myself! "
Mrs. Kruger, however, soon dissuaded Lisa from
these dreadful intentions, and then in came the
Doctor.
How grieved and how angry he was! You would
have thought Bijou was his own child. With de-
spair in his face, he ran down to the garden to make
another search for Bijou, and to examine the foot-
prints in the snow, of which Lisa had spoken.
When the Lieutenant appeared, he, too, was
greeted with the sad news, and though his heart
was not quite broken, he looked sad enough as he
let the lump of sugar he had in his pocket for the
little dog, sink into his cup of tea.
They could scarcely eat anything; they could
talk of nothing but Bijou ; how pretty he had been,
and how intelligent; no means must be left untried
Sto recover him, and to punish the thief. The Lieu-
tenant said he would send a whole company of
soldiers out the next morning to search the town;
the lady proposed to go herself to all the police


[FEBRUARY,


220








ALL FOR BIJOU. 221


stations; the Doctor composed the following ad-
vertisement :

STOLEN!--Ten thalers reward, for the apprehension of the thief,
or the recovery of a small spaniel dog, one year and three months
old, supposed to be stolen from No. 14 Street, answering to the
name of Bijou. Long black hair, yellow breast and paws, and a
yellow spot over each eye. Had on, when last seen, a red morocco
collar with a silver clasp.

It is not to be supposed that either Mrs. Kruger
or Lisa had any sleep that night.

PART II.

The birthday! Nobody had forgotten poor
Bijou; but time softens all sorrows, and the family
were now able to talk occasionally of something
else. In the evening, Dr. Kruger brought some
gifts for his wife, and as she thanked him she began
to shed tears.
"Do you remember," asked she, "how, this
time last year, you brought me home poor little
Bijou? What a darling puppy he was then! John
stood just outside the door with him in his arms,
and I went out and- "
"Well," said the Doctor, "there is no use in
grieving about the past. Let us look-who knows ?
-perhaps John may be there now." And, sure
enough, just outside the door stood John, holding
a little black dog by a red ribbon.
"Bijou! and she ran to the dog, who, fright-
ened, only shrank from her and whined.
"Yes, very like him, but not Bijou. Still he is
nice, and I am real thankful for your kindness, dear
Karl. And, Karl," added Mrs. Kruger, "it is a
little awkward, I am afraid, but come now and see
the gift I have for you." And going into another
room, she re-appeared, holding in her arms a dog
as much like the one on the floor as possible, and
wearing a red morocco collar, to which was fastened
a red ribbon.
"Bijou exclaimed the Doctor eagerly.
"No, I am sorry to say, not the real Bijou; but
is n't he like him ? You see, I wished to give you
the same pleasure that you have given me, and now
we have two dogs."
They are neither of them very young puppies,
and will not be a great deal of trouble. I suppose
we can keep both. I would not like to part with
anything that was your gift?"
Nor would I with yours."
So the two little spaniels were put on the sofa,
each tied to one end by his red ribbon, where, just
out of each others reach, they sat whining, and
winking at the lights.
Lisa now entered. She held the end of her long
apron up to her face, and seemed to be carrying
something heavy. She made a sort of curtsey, and


turned to her employers, very red in the face, and
somewhat confused in manner.
"Ma'am and Doctor, don't, please, be angry at
me that the dear darling Bijou was stolen-the little
rascal-and killed, perhaps, by the horrid men;
only I ought not, I know, to call him rascal. It
was all my fault, and I know what my duty is, and
I try to do it, and any one would say this is my
duty (here a yellow leg thrust from her apron
obliged her to bring her speech to a rapid close),
and I could not afford to pay three thalers, which
is the price of a real spaniel, so I bought you both
this dog. He is black, with yellow feet." And
she let the animal in question spring to the floor-
an ugly, awkward cur, big and bony, who evidently
now found himself in a parlor for the first time in
his life.
Mr. and Mrs. Kruger looked at each other.
Surely they did not want this ugly black dog, but
how could they say so ?' It would be very unkind
to poor Lisa, who had done what she could, if they
should show any dislike to her offering. So they
received it with thanks, praised the poor frightened
cur's soft ears, and extremely white teeth, and tied
him to one of the legs of the sofa, where he began
to indulge in howls of distress, in which the aristo-
cratic.little creatures on the sofa joined from time
to time.
"Another Bijou on the sofa! exclaimed the as-
tonished Lisa, "and another yet; that will make
three."
The Lieutenant was expected, but had not yet
appeared. At last, a footstep was heard in the pas-
sage, and, the door being opened, there was his
servant in uniform, leading a large dog that tried
very hard to escape from the string by which he
was restrained. The man presented a note from
the Lieutenant, as follows:
DEAR AUNT: Having tried in vain to procure a spaniel similar
to the one you have lost, I send you in its place a fine hunting-dog,
which has been described to me as very intelligent. Be so good as to
accept him from me as a birthday gift, and, in memory of the former
pet, give him the name of Bijou. &c., &c.
"There seems to be no end to our dogs to-
night," said the lady, a little out of temper.
"And such an enormous creature, too. Far
better no dogs than four dogs, in my opinion; but
we cannot refuse a birthday gift."
"No, of course not." (Turning to the man):
' Tie him to that leg of the sofa, if you please. He
does not bite ? "
"Indeed, ma'am, he bit me in the hand coming
along."
There is a thaler for you. Give the Lieutenant
our thanks, and tell him we are expecting him."
I know he will be here directly, madam. Thank
you, madam."


ALL FOR BIJOU.


221






TOBOGGANS AND THEIR USE.


And now, what growling and whining there was !
-four dogs longing to get at each other. Mrs.
Kruger did not know whether to laugh or to cry.
A loud ring at the garden gate.
"' No more dogs, I do hope," said Mrs. Kruger.
Anything in the world rather than a fifth dog. See
who it is, Lisa, but take in no more dogs."
But, suddenly changing her tone, she exclaimed,
as a whine echoed from below: "It is !-it is I
know his voice."
And, sure enough, so it was, the for-two-weeks
lost Bijou, who, racing and scrambling for joy in
the way little dogs do, found his way first to his
master and mistress and then to Lisa, eager to give
them his animated and almost breathless greetings,
so happy, so overjoyed was he. The Doctor held
him up high under the light, to make very sure
that it was their own Bijou and no other. He still
wore his red collar, and to it was tied a dirty little
note, as follows:
DEAR DOCTOR: I am a poor man, and have stolen many a dog
and many another thing besides; but when I took this dog, I did not


know it was yours, Doctor. You cured my wife when she was sick,
and charged me nothing, and were so good and kind. I can't steal
your dog, so I bring him back, dear sir. J.
"So there is honor among thieves," said the
Doctor. "Did you see who it was that brought
him back? "
The little ras-darling was tied to the door-
handle," said Lisa, and there was no one to be
seen."
And what can be done with the five dogs? We
are likely to have a noisy night of it."
When the Lieutenant appeared they made a joke
of offering him the two little dogs as a special token
of honor. He remarked that two of his friends
were in search of just such dogs; and seeing that
his uncle and aunt were not really in earnest, he
offered to take them off their hands.
The two large dogs were placed in the garden,
and intrusted respectively to the care of John and
Lisa; and Bijou-the darling, the real Bijou-re-
sumed his old place in the house, and in the affec-
tions of his master and mistress.


TOBOGGANS AND THEIR USE.

BY FREDERIC G. MATHER.


Now that cold weather has come, I would like
to tell the boys who read ST. NICHOLAS how they
may enjoy themselves more during the present
winter than they ever did in their lives. You have
all of you noticed the sides of a hill when they are
covered with snow; and, as you have looked upon
the gentle slope and the broad and level meadow
beyond, you have thought: "I wish I could slide
down that hill and way out over the meadow; it
would be suck fun "
But you all know that you could not use your
sleds for the purpose of sliding down a hill-side
where there is no road, because the runners would
soon cut through the crust of the snow. Even if
you commenced to slide and went part way down
such a hill, your sled might be suddenly stopped
and you would go rolling over and over toward
the bottom. If you should try to slide down on a
board you would certainly be stopped in this way;
and, after picking yourself up, you would feel as I
did, when I was about six years old and tried to
slide down the back stairs on a board. The board


stuck upon the edge of one of the stairs and I went
on to the bottom without it. Presently the board
came down on top of me. This made such a noise
that some one came to see what was the matter.
My statement was simply this: I thought I would
slide down the stairs." I was warned not to try
that again, and never.did; and I know that if you
ever try to slide down hill on a board you will never
repeat the experiment.
A board is flat and will not sink into the snow so
deep as the runners of a sled do; but then the end
is not turned up like the runners. Now, if we could
have a combination of the sled and the board, we
could slide down the hills and across the meadows.
I will describe such a combination of the sled and
board, and will tell you how you can easily make
one. Then, whenever there is a good crust on the
snow, you can have more fun in sliding than you
ever had before.
What I am about to describe is called a "tobog-
gan." You cannot find that name in the diction-
ary-for it is the name given to it by the Indians


222


[FEBRUARY,






TOBOGGANS AND THEIR USE.


of northern Canada. They load these toboggans
with furs, and often travel hundreds of miles over
the snow to the trading-posts. Then they sell both
their furs and their toboggans, and start on their
tramp homeward. A great many toboggans are
also made for the Canadian gentlemen and ladies
who live in Montreal, Quebec and Ottawa, and it
is quite a fashionable thing to use these queer-look-
ing sleds. There are not very many places in the
United States which are as cold as the cities I have
named; but we have enough cold weather to have
considerable coasting in many parts of our own
country-enough, at any rate, to make it worth
while to have a toboggan.
Should you wish to make one, you must take a
board of bass-wood, oak, ash, or any other kind that
will bend easily. Pine will not do, for it is too soft
and will split. You will not be apt to find a board
thin enough for your purpose; but you can have


one which was long enough to hold six or eight
persons.
You will need seven pieces of hard wood, as long
as your. toboggan is wide; and two pieces, each a
little over four feet long. Each of these nine pieces
should be one inch square or round. Time will
be gained and trouble will be saved if you can have
them made round at a lumber-mill.
A visit to the shoemaker is next in order. You
must tell him that you want four pairs of leather
shoe-strings. He will probably ask you how many
pairs of shoes you wear at a time; but then he
does.not know that you are making a toboggan,
and besides that, it is none of his business at any
rate-for this is a free country, and you have a
right to wear as many pairs of shoes at a time as
you choose.
Below is a plan of the toboggan. When you have
studied it, you can begin to work. Lay six of your


H K I

A-


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-.____ P_ OF.....BSC N5
... . .. ^ <--^. ^: "^



...--.-
sll,~h "- '\ ""*



PLAN OF TOBOGGAN.


I

. .. W:- __


A


it planed to a thickness of three-sixteenths to one-
quarter of an inch. If the board is of hard wood
the thickness may be considerably less than if it is
of soft wood. A single board fifteen or sixteen
inches wide is better than two boards; but if you
have to buy two boards, you may as well have
them so arranged as to give a width of eighteen
inches. The people who use toboggans do not
seem to care if the board becomes split; for they
say that the cracks will keep the toboggan from
sliding sideways. It is about the same thing wheth-
er the single board is split, or two boards are used
in the first place; but you will find it much easier
to make the toboggan out of a single board.
This board should be six feet long. You can
have it as much longer as you choose-but I am
now telling you about the length of a toboggan
which will hold two boys. I have had a ride on


round pieces (A, B, C, D, E, F) across the board,
beginning at one end. They should be one foot
apart. At right angles to these, and near their
ends, lay the two long pieces, H and I. Bore four
holes in the corner I A (see small cut), and tie
both pieces to the board with part of'a shoe-string.
Make two holes at K, and tie in the same manner.
Let the knots always appear on the upper sur-
face, and be sure that the leather which shows on
the under side is parallel with the length of the
board, as you see it arranged from F to L. The
under side will be considerably smoother if you cut
grooves to allow the leather strings to sink below
the surface ; but do not cut the grooves too deep.
In this manner fasten all the braces from A to F;
and the pieces I and H as you proceed. These
long pieces are to be used as handles while you
ride, and they should be sharpened at the end E.


i876.]


223








TOBOGGANS AND THEIR USE.


Be careful to fasten the brace, G, on the under side
as the board lies flat upon the floor of your work-
shop. You are now ready to bend the end from E
to G. If the board is not too thick you can do it


other side, and then your toboggan will be com-
plete. At F and L you can attach a cord, and when
sliding you must use a sharp stick for steering this
strange craft. Here you have a picture of two boys


ON A TOBOGGAN.
at once; but if there is any trouble you can use on a toboggan. They have wrapped themselves
steam or hot water. Having bent it with a grace- up warmly and do not care for the snow. I hope
ful curve, fasten with bits of leather the points G that you all will have as good a time as they are hav-
and E, and also the corresponding points on the ing, if you should succeed in making a toboggan.







POT AND KETTLE.

"OHO !" said the pot to the kettle;
You 're dirty and ugly and black!
Sure no one would think you were metal,
Except when you're given a crack."

"Not so! not so!" kettle said to the pot.
"'T is your own difty image you see;
For I am so clean-without blemish or blot-
That your blackness is mirrored in me."


[FEBRUARY,


224


'
'' '


i.







HOW I KEPT THE CHINESE NEW-YEAR.


HOW I KEPT THE CHINESE NEW-YEAR.

Br F ,\ R 7


S January at all, but the sixth day of
S February that ushers in the Chinese
New-Year. The grandest festival in
all the calendar, so think the Celes-
.., 'A- tials; and they celebrate it with most
.imposing ceremonies. Not a man,
i,-J.Y woman or child that does not take
part in its festivities; neither the in-
fant of days nor the man of a cen-
S tury, the millionaire nor the beggar-
'. none may be excused from donning
his best, and going out holidaying
on New-Year. From the Emperor in his gorgeous
palace, surrounded with pomp and luxury, down
to his humblest subject, living and rearing his
family perhaps in a boat, where kitchen, laundry,
nursery and bedroom all are encompassed within
the -narrow limits of a space about twelve feet
square,-every one, according to his rank and
ability, enters with heart and hand into the festivi-
ties of the season. All business is suspended, and
for three days at least, mirth, jollity and feasting
rule the realm, while some of the wealthy keep up,
for a much longer time, the routine of gayeties.
All who can possibly procure it don on New-Year's
Morn an entire new suit, no article of which has
ever been worn before; but even the very poor are
sure to be arrayed in at least one new garment-a
cheap hat, fan or handkerchief, if nothing more
costly can be afforded.
Not thus to honor the day would be regarded as
a national offense, and he who should venture so to
violate the customs of his country would be pro-
nounced unpatriotic as well as penurious. Many
of the working class, who go bare-headed and bare-
footed the year round, will, on New-Year's Day,
make a grand display of fancifully ornamented caps,
white stockings and shoes of many-colored silk,
though, in all probability, they have been borrowed,
or hired for the occasion from regular dealers in
second-hand stock. Nor is this beautifying process
confined to the people. Boats, houses and fences
must be repaired, painted, and made to look new,
in honor of the grand gala; and they are also
plentifully .adorned with strips of bright red paper,
on which are inscribed, in black or gilt letters,
good wishes, congratulations and compliments to
all who enter during the festal days. These mottoes
are sometimes tastefully illuminated, and, blended
with quaint devices, are placed over and on the
VOL. III.-i6.


sides of the principal entrances to keep off bad
spirits," and bring general good luck" to the
owners and their families.
On New-Year's Eve sacrifices of rice, fruits and
sweetmeats are offered to the Old Year to induce
him to depart in peace; gold and silver paper are
burned as at an ordinary burial, to indicate his
death and interment; and then in house and
temple, among priests and people, who are every-
where watching for his coming, the new-born year
is heralded in with shouts and rejoicings that are
echoed far and wide over every nook and corner of
those great, populous cities. During the entire
night every street and lane is thronged with pedes-
trians, who, half wild with excitement, leap and
shout, dance and sing, beat gongs and kettle-drums,
and perform all manner of unheard-of gymnastics,
each seemingly resolved to make more noise than
any two of his fellows As day breaks, every door
is closed, the busy streets are suddenly deserted,
a solemn quiet reigns where just before mirth and
madness had seemed to rule. Each household has
"taken in the New Year and shut him in, to be-
come domiciled with the family."
But the lapse of a few hours brings another
change of programme. Footmen in liveries and
sedan-chairs, gayly decorated, throng the streets;
gentlemen pass from house to house on visits
of ceremony; elegantly clad servants bear presents
and congratulatory cards from the wealthy and
noble to their friends, and return laden with the
like precious tokens of good-will; social parties
assemble in public and private saloons; and as
friends meet on the streets, eachjoins his hands
on his breast, with body bent forward, and thus,
for several minutes, they continue bowing and
complimenting each other on the propitious return
of this festal season. The lower class, who have
been busy all the year round earning their bread,
seem most of all to enjoy this annual holiday, as
they sit at the door of their little cabins or in their
gardens leisurely sipping tea from tiny cups no big-
ger than a "doll's tea-set," while Mrs. "John" and
all the "Johns" junior are for the time at least
permitted to indulge unrestrainedly in such pas-
times as best suit their fancy, fater-familias stoop-
ing from his dignity, this once in a year, to unite
with them. Street concerts, theatricals, and fire-
works lend their aid; and so rapidly pass the three
brightest days of the poor man's calendar; while
for the rich, as I have hinted, sometimes as many


1876.]


225


OPER EUDGE.







HOW I KEPT THE CHINESE NEW-YEAR.


weeks transpire before the ordinary routine of busi- of pale blue silk, very richly embroidered,-all her


ness and social life is resumed.
One New-Year I was invited to spend the day
with a Chinese tea merchant and his family; and
as I was anxious to learn exactly how they observed
the festal season, I begged them to make no change
either in their festivities or the bill of fare, but to
let me be treated just as one of themselves. I had
known the old merchant and his sons for some time,
but had never met the ladies of his household.


own work, she told me. The skirt hung in full
plaits about her slender figure, and the tight-fitting
jacket showed to perfection the exquisitely'rounded
form, while the loose sleeve, open to the elbow,
displayed an arm that might have served as a
model for the sculptor. But all this loveliness was
only for female eyes, for before entering the sitting-
room, where her husband, father and brother-in-law
were assembled, she put on the long, loose, outer


S- --






A_ A
,' i ..''* -, NX.^ ', 'I -S
l .. ,' ,
'. I 1 - -' ":


A CHINESE NEW Y KEAR PARTY.
A CHINESE NEW YEAR'S PARTY.


There were three of them-i.e., the old gentleman's
wife, an unmarried daughter and the newly wedded
wife of the eldest son. The last, I had heard, was
beautiful, but I was not prepared for such a vision
of loveliness as met my view, when the tiny-footed,
gentle-spoken twelve-year-old bride was introduced
by her mother-in-law. She was very fair, with eyes
bright as diamonds, and her long, jet-black hair,
in one heavy braid, was twined with a wreath of
natural flowers about the beautifully formed head,
and held in place by jeweled pins. She wore ear-
rings, of course, with necklaces, chains, bracelets
and rings enough to have constituted quite a
respectable fortune in themselves. Her dress was


garment that Chinese ladies always wear when
in "full dress." This came below the knee, its
sleeves reaching to the tips of her fingers, whilst its
loose, flowing style effectually veiled the fairy form,
hiding all its symmetry. She had the tiny, pressed
feet that the Chinese consider not only beautiful,
but necessary to high breeding; and they were
encased in the daintiest of satin slippers, em-
broidered in seed pearls. But finery could not
hide the deformity produced by so unnatural a
process, nor the awkward limp of the poor little
lady as she leaned on the shoulders of her maidens
in hobbling from room to room. I asked her if the
feet were still painful, and she replied that for the


226


[FEBRUARY,







HOW I KEPT THE CHINESE NEW-YEAR.


last two or three years a sort of numbness had suc-
ceeded the pain, but that formerly, and from her
earliest recollection, her sufferings had been so
intense that she would gladly have died; and that
she had often, in frantic agony, torn off the
bandages, and when they were replaced, shrieked
and screamed till delirium, for a time, relieved the
consciousness of suffering. But after the fifth year
the pain gradually became less intolerable, she
said, and now she did not think very much about
it, except when the bandages were changed. Then
the return of the blood to the foot was such torture
as language could not describe. Yet in reply to
my question on the subject, this gentle girl-wife
said it would be cruel in a parent not to press the
feet of his daughter, as he thereby shut her out
from good society, and made a plebeian of her for
life.
The bandages are always applied in early infancy,
and before putting them on, all the toes except the
first and second are doubled in beneath the soles
of the feet. The length of the foot, after under-
going this painful operation, never exceeds five
inches, and ordinarily is scarcely four.
The young daughter of my host was a petite
maiden of ten, attired in dainty robes of rose-
colored satin, embroidered in silver, and her glossy
raven hair was disposed in two massive braids,
hanging down almost to her tiny feet, twinkling in
silver-hued slippers. Chinese maidens wear their
braids down, and the "crown of wifehood" is sym-
bolized by the coronet of hair laid for the first time
on the top of the head on the marriage-day. Ori-
ental customs always have a meaning.
When we entered the large drawing-room shortly
before dinner, I could not keep my eyes from
wandering, everything seemed so strange; from
the stiff, upright chairs and sofas, to the huge
flower-vases, looking like miniature water-casks,
and the quaint, costly chandeliers, whose use I
never should have guessed but for the scores of
wax tapers that glittered in them even at broad
daylight. One of the chandeliers was shaped like
a flying dragon, and out of mouth, eyes, wings and
tail burst such a volume of light as fairly to dazzle
one who ventured on too near an approach to the
monster. But the strangest object of all, to my
eyes at least, was a very elegant coffin, placed in
the most conspicuous part of the drawing-room. I


was shocked at first, and drew back, but my host
said, with an amused smile:
Oh, that was a birthday present from my son
several years ago, and my daughter embroidered a
beautiful silk sheet to accompany it."
This, I learned afterward, was no uncommon
case,-a handsome coffin and burial-sheet being
considered by the Chinese very appropriate gifts
from dutiful children to honored parents; and
people just as frequently buy such articles and lay
them up for their own use.
At dinner, we had all sorts of queer dishes, many
of them very palatable; but alas! for me, there
were only chop-sticks to eat with And my pre-
dicament was very much that of the stork when
invited to dine with the fox. All my essays were
in vain; the dainty titbits I was longing to taste
would not be coaxed between the ends of my deli-
cately carved chop-sticks, and my eating was a very
burlesque, which my gentlemanly host and his
well-bred family vainly tried not to notice. At
length he apologized by saying that he supposed I
would prefer, at a Chinese table, to use the chop-
sticks; and he then ordered a knife, fork and spoon
to be brought for me. Tea was served in tiny
silver tea-pots that held less than half a pint, and
each was placed on a silver waiter with fine little
porcelain cups, without saucers or spoons, sugar or
cream. This is the way the Chinese always drink
tea, and one of these miniature services is placed
before each guest, while a servant stands by to pour
the tea and replenish the tea-pot when needed.
After dinner we had some music, several games
were played for my special entertainment, and my
host showed me a rare collection of paintings done
by the famous artist, Lang Qua. I was urged to
remain for the night, but preferring to return, the
sedan chairs were ordered to the door, and, attended
by the son of my host, I took my departure, loaded
with gifts from my hospitable entertainers. As the
presents were all wrapped in tissue paper, I did not
examine them till I reached my own home. Each
contained the card of the donor; a pair of vases
from the lady of the house, a silver card-case from
her husband, a wreath of wax flowers, only less
lovely than her own fair self, from the gentle bride,
and a pair of chop-sticks, with which, I have no
doubt, the donor thought I needed special prac-
tice, from the waggish younger son of mine host.


1876.]


227






THE FATE OF THE CASTAWAYS.


S''


II


i i I I






[1


S' I' f


"HOW MUCH DID YOU GET FOR A PENNY?


BASS COVE SKETCHES.-THE FATE OF THE CASTAWAYS.

BY J. T. TROWBRIDGE.


BORROWING Mr. Bonwig's gun once more, Joe
returned to the spot where he had shot the "old
wives." They were still tossing on the surges in the
inlet below. He descended the cliff, took off his
clothes, plunged into the water, and brought out
the birds.
Then climbing to the top of the cliff again, he
held up the game, to the delight of Bonwig's
hungry eyes.
If you '11 dress and cook them," said Augustus,
" I will keep the signal waving."
"I ought to ketch a f6w fish first," said Joe,
" 'fore the tide is up. You can't ketch nippers so
well at high water, for then they're feedin' on the
barnacles and things, on the rocks."


What's nippers? said Augustus.
Cunners," said Joe, amazed at such ignorance.
" Don't you know ? What you had for supper last
night, and for breakfast agin this morning. "
"Oh salt water perch Of course, I know,"
said Mr. Bonwig, remembering how good they
were. It would be fine, if we could get a few
to keep the ducks company But you've no pole
nor line."
"I alluz carry lines in my pocket," said Joe,
" and I don't need a pole."
But you 've no worms "
"I can find bait enough. I'll look out for all
that, if you '11 keep the star-spangled sheet a-
wavin'."


228


[FEBRUARY,


i

' II

I :
'
''

i


i


l
J


_- i
I






I


i'


D







THE FATE OF THE CASTAWAYS.


Joe laughed, as he looked back and saw his portly
friend flourishing the white flag, as if for dear life.
"That exercise will do him good," thought he.
"The trouble with that 'ar feller is, he's so lazy.
He was too lazy' for to give the dory a little lift;
and now see where we be And don't I remember
how easy that boat rowed !-to him a-settin' conm-
f'r'able in the stern."
He went down on the rocks by the water's edge,
laid down his gun,-or rather Mr. Bonwig's,-and
taking a ball of line from his pocket, proceeded to
unwind it. At the inside end, he found a heavy
sinker, a corn-cob, and a hook sticking into it.
Putting the cob back into his pocket, to be used in
winding the line up again afterward, he looked
about him for bait. The rocks below high-water
mark were covered with barnacles, as with a gray
scum, and dotted here and there with periwinkles
(Joe called them cockles) clinging to the ledge.
Of these he gathered a handful, and laid them
down by his gun. Then, having baited his hook
from one of them, he "threw in." He stood on
the brink of a steep rock, and the heavy sinker
carried the line down in the deep water beside it,
notwithstanding the dashing waves.
All was quiet for a minute or two. Then he felt
a little jerk. He gave a little jerk in return, and
perceived that he had hooked something. He
hauled up the line, hand over hand; and a fine
large cunner fell flopping on the ledge. He baited
and threw in again, and had many nips (the cun-
ner is notorious for nipping at your bait, and get-
ting it without getting the hook; hence the term
nifper), and now and then drew up a fish. In half
an hour, he found he had caught a handsome
string.
All this time he kept a keen look-out for game.
And now he saw a flock of black ducks come flying
low along the waves toward the island. They
passed so near to him that he might easily have
brought down a pair, but as they would have fallen
into the water, and as he had no dory to pick
them up, he, with admirable self-denial for so
young a gunner, stood, piece in hand, and saw
them pass.
Arrived at the end of the island, instead of alight-
ing, they wheeled and, rising, returned in a broad
circle over it.
Augustus had seen them coming, in the first
place, and dropped his signal, and himself beside
it, hoping for a shot. When they passed the island,
he was quite wild with excitement, and came very
near firing Joe's shirt at them. The distance at
which they flew, from where he lay, was probably
all that saved the shirt-and the birds. Before they
returned, the sportsman had time to exchange the
" queen's arm," which served as a flag-staff, for the


other, which had no sleeve tied over the end of it;
and to place himself in readiness.
"If they'll only come again thought he. I
believe.there's something in the gun, after all.
Those are real duck guns They're so heavy, I
believe I can hold one steadier than I can my little
light thing. By George! there they come "
They flew so directly over the summit of the
island, that Mr. Bonwig, afraid to get up and show
himself, rolled over on his back, pointed the
" queen's arm" up into the air, and fired.
The flock veered at sight of him, even before the
flash; and that was probably the reason why he
did not kill a great many. He thought at first he
had killed none. But the rocks below had barely
had time tb send back two sharp echoes of his shot
(a very singular phenomenon, if Augustus had only
stopped to consider it), when three ducks, one after
the other, dropped down headlong out of the flock,
and fell upon the island.
Bonwig ran down to them, with cries of exulta-
tion. At the same time Joe came crawling up over
the ledge, with Bonwig's gun in one hand, and the
string of fish in the other.
See that ? and that ? and that ?" cried Augus-
tus, holding up the ducks triumphantly. Who
said 't would n't take long to eat all I kill ?"
Joe stood still, fish in one hand and gun in the
other, and grinned at him.
See how fat they are. I picked for the plump-
est, and then took aim. Waited till I got three in
range. Never was so cool about anything in my
life. If you have any more ducks to shoot, bring
'em on. What are you laughing at? I suppose
you '11 say I did n't kill these, wont you ? said the
jubilant sportsman.
"'T was your gun that killed them, fast enough,"
replied Joe, chuckling over the joke.
"Of course it was!" But Mr. Bonwig meant
one gun, while Joe meant another. This is a
regular old-fashioned duck-shooter "-holding up
the old queen's arm." I can handle it a great
deal better than I can my piece. It has got so used
to it, it seems almost to aim itself. It's nothing to
shoot ducks with this gun Three at a shot! what
will my wife say to that ? Bless my heart! And
he praised the ducks again.
Joe laughed so that his knees began to give way
under him, and his body to double up, and his
hands to forget their cunning; he dropped the
fish, he dropped the gun, and finally dropped him-
self-tumbling over and rolling on the rocks in
convulsions of mirth.
Now what's the'fun?" said Mr. Bonwig, an-
noyed.
"You've got the knack you've got the knack !"
said Joe, winking away his tears.


x876.]


229








230 THE FATE OF THE CASTAWAYS. [FEBRUARY,


"What do you mean?" Augustus demanded,
sternly, for he suspected that he was the subject of
merriment.
Did the birds drop the very minute you fired ?"
Why, no, not the instant; they were so aston-
ished; they had to take time to consider it; that
is, they were flying so fast, it was a second or two
before they could change their course and come
down."
Arid did n't you hear any other gun ?"
"Why,-my shot-echoed said Augustus.
How many times ?"
Twice; I do believe it was a sort of double
echo."
That was the echo said Joe, holding up the
double-barreled piece, and then immediately going
into convulsions again.
Augustus seized it. He remembered that it was
loaded when it last went into Joe's hands; and
now, nervously shoving down the ramrod, he found
the barrels empty. He still stoutly insisted, how-
ever, that he had killed the ducks; but it was with
a flushed face and a greatly disturbed look.
If you did, you beat me with your knack!"
said Joe.
"How so? Explain yourself. Do stop that
confounded giggling, and explain yourself! said
Bonwig.
"I can't kill ducks without any shot in my
gun; and there wasn't any shot in the gun you
fired! "
That's a-a-likely story gasped poor Mr.
Bonwig.
You see," said Joe, I was going' to leave the
old guns with you, and I was afraid you 'd be
shooting at me, as you did afore; so I did n't put
any shot into 'em I Try 't other one, and see "
Augustus drew the wad from the flag-staff, and
found only powder beneath it. He then sat down
dejectedly on the ledge, and remained thoughtful
for a long while. At last he said:
"Come, Joe, we've fooled about enough; it's
time to think of getting ashore."
It's nothing to shoot ducks with that gun '
-' three at a shot !'-' it aims itself! Oh, ho !
ho ho! "
Come!" said Augustus, sharply. How about
dinner ?"
You picked for the fplumnest, and then took
aim /'" cried Joe. Waited till you got them
in range /-never was so cool in your life!' Oh,
ho I shalldie And he rolled on the rocks
again.
Mr. Bonwig had suddenly once more grown ex-
tremely anxious about their situation. He stretched
the shirt on the queen's arm again, and began
to wave it with great solemnity.


Joe then sat up, stopped laughing, took a knife
from his pocket, and then and there commenced
dressing the fish for dinner.
You 've got a nice string there the hungry
Augustus at last remarked, regarding the process
wistfully.
Joe said it was a nice string. He made no fur-
ther allusion to Mr. Bonwig's remarkable sports-
manship (although he would now and then be
taken with a stitch in his ribs, a cramp ii his
stomach, or spasms in the muscles of his face,
which he found it hard to overcome); and from
that moment the two were good friends again.
"I must find a board somewhere; and I guess
I better be starting' the fire." And Joe carried his
fish and game down to the house of refuge, where
he could give occasional vent to his mirth, without
hurting his friend's feelings.
Leaving Mr. Bonwig to wave the signal and keep
a look-out, he made preparations for dinner. I
would n't burn up this wood to make chowders, as
the fellers do," thought he; but ar'n't we sort of
shipwrecked ?" And he comforted his conscience
with the reflection that the Humane Society would
approve of what he was doing.
At last, he called Mr. Bonwig to dinner. That
hungry gentleman made haste to prop up the
standard with stones, and obeyed the joyful sum-
mons.
Joe," said he, catching the savory odor of the
cooking as he entered the hut, I am surprised !
Who would have thought you could get up such a
dinner? "
This bench is the table, these clam-shells are
the plates; use your pocket-knife, and your fingers
are the fork," said Joe, proudly. Now taste o'
the fish, and see how sweet they are, without salt
nor nothing' on 'em."
Glorious !" cried Augustus. But what's that
on the coals ? "
Pieces of your ducks a-brilin," said Joe.
"Now look here, Joe !" remonstrated Augus-
tus.
Did you really think you shot'em ?" Joe asked.
My imagination was excited; that's all I have
to say-my imagination was excited." And now
Augustus himself had to laugh;
Joe had seated himself astride one end of the
bench, facing Mr. Bonwig; and Mr. Bonwig had
seated himself astride the other end, facing Joe;
and there they feasted ;-Joe turning occasionally
to take up a fish from the coals with a sharp stick,
or to turn the broiling morsels.of wild duck.
Dinner's a good invention," said Augustus.
"And I ha'nt nothing' petickler to say ag'in a
fire-arter a feller's been around and hum, in a
cold north-wester, without his shirt on," said Joe.


[FEBRUARY,


230


THE FATE OF THE CASTAWAYS.







THE FATE OF THE CASTAWAYS.


"We sha' n't fare so badly, at this rate," observed
Mr. Bonwig, resignedly.
We shall fare well enough; all I think on now
is that plaguy dory," replied Joe.
I'1l make that all right with your father, if we
ever get ashore again; so don't worry about the
dory."
"By sixty! Will ye, though? That improves
my appetite! Guess I'11 try a drumstick."
He took a duck's leg in his fingers, and put on
his cap. Finish yer dinner,",said he; "and I'11
go out and tend the signal."
"That's a good boy!" said Augustus, feeling
easier in his mind, for he had scarcely begun his
dinner yet, although he had eaten two perch to
Joe's one, and game in proportion.
In half an hour Joe came running back, and
found his amiable friend fast asleep on the straw;
that rosy and plump gentleman having been unable
to resist the drowsiness which overcame him almost
before the conclusion of his repast. "I guess Joe
will look after the signal," was his comfortable re-
flection, as he stretched himself on the straw. For
my part, I 'm tired of standing on a bleak rock, in
a north-west wind, waving a shirt on an old gun-
barrel!" And he gave himself up to delicious
slumber.
Joe regarded him with disgust; but he did not
wake him. "Lazy bummer! I'll come up with
him," said he; and off he went again.
Another half hour elapsed, when Mr. Bonwig
awoke from a vivid dream of firing into a flock of
old queen's arms, that flew over his candy-shop in
town, and doing great damage to a number of in-
nocent persons who happened to be passing in the
street when the shattered barrels and butt-ends
came rattling down upon them.
"Hello said he. Hel-lo looking about
him. "I'd quite forgotten I was cast away! I
wonder if Joe has signaled anything yet."
He went out, and found the signal gone. The
gun was lying on the rocks; but neither Joe, nor
Joe's shirt, was anywhere to be seen.
"The rogue has found some means of getting
off; he has left me his old flint-lock, and deserted.
me !" was Mr. Bonwig's first appalling thought.
He wandered about in great distress of mind for
some minutes, calling loudly on Joe. Finally the
report of a gun made answer. With gladdened
heart he hastened in the direction of the sound, and
saw Joe on the beach where they had first landed,
picking up a brace of plover he had just shot
"Where's the signal?" Augustus asked, wildly,
conscious of culpable neglect on his own part. I
thought you said you would keep that waving."
Did n't I ? said Joe, for ever so long after I
left you Then I went back and found you snoozin'.


So I made up my mind if that was all you cared
for gittin' ashore, I would n't trouble myself any
longer."
"But-Joseph !" Bonwig remonstrated,-" this
wont do! We must wave the signal."
"Wave it then! though I little 'druther ye
would n't; it scares the game."
What have you done with the shirt?"
Put it on, of course! I was cold, and I went
to huntin' to get warm."
Oh, now, let's have it again said Augustus,
coaxingly.
"Nary shirt! replied Joe, obstinately. Use
yer own,-it's your turn this time."
Bonwig coaxed, and made offers of money, and
various promises of future favors, all to no purpose.
He buttoned his coat all the more tightly, and de-
clared that he would not part with his shirt again,
alive.
Augustus looked all around for succor; he saw
sails in the distance, but not one near ; and, after
some moments of sad hesitation, he began to un-
button his hunting-jacket. The winds cut him.
I'll give you a heap of candy, if you only will,
Joe! "
"Who knows you'll ever see your candy-shop
again ?" said Joe.
Augustus unbuttoned two more buttons.
I'11 send down a trunk-full, by express "
Still Joe would not yield. Bonwig unbuttoned
the last button. Joe began to roar with laughter
again. Augustus was actually taking off his shirt,
preparatory to sticking it upon the gun-barrel, when
he evidently began to suspect mischief.
Now, what's the joke ? "
"Come over here, and I'll show you! Bring
everything. We're going ashore now."
Going ashore said the mystified Augustus.
Joe made no answer, but led him around to the
point from which the dory had gone adrift, and
showed it, hauled up there again as snugly as if
nothing unusual had happened to it.
Well, now I am surprised Now-then-
bless my heart! said the amazed Augustus.
When you was asleep," said Joe, I went in to
tell you there was a sail-boat beating' up toward us,
with a dory in tow, but you was snorin'. So, I got
mad, and left ye. It was our dory. They had
picked her up at sea, and looked in the direction
the wind was blowin' from, and seen our signal with
a glass; and as they was out for fun, they jest beat
up here to us. They picked up the loons by the
way; and I give 'em the loons and two black
ducks and an old wife, for bringing' her in; and
first-rate, tip-top chaps they was, too; and they
wanted to pay me for the ducks, but I wouldn't
take no pay, of course And here the dory was


1876.1


23I







THE FATE OF THE CASTAWAYS.


tied, all the while you was trying to have me to
take off my shirt agin, and then takin' off your
own !
Well, I am / I don't think I was ever quite so
agreeably surprised in my life said Mr. Bonwig.
I may get back to town yet to-night. How long
will it take to row ashore ?"
"Oh, not long," said Joe, "this boat rows so
easy."
"Look here! I believe I was going to row
back," said Bonwig. You row till I finish this
cigar."


water off, and said he was surprised! I let him
try it over again, and we began to make a track
like a sea-serpent's, zigzag, zigzag. But I let him
work.
It surprises me,' says I, 'to see how easy this
boat rows!' He did n't say nothing but turned red
as ever you see abiled lobster; and did n't he sweat
and blow Then we came to the breakers. They
wan't more 'n half so high as they was in the morn-
in', or I never should a' let him row on to 'em. But
I thought 't would be fun. We went over the first
one slick enough. With the second one, the boat


.. t-. : _- --2-- _. --- -- :_ -


MR. BONWIG TAKES THE OARS.


When he had finished the cigar, they were within
half a mile of the Cove.
"He thought he was goin' to do wonders,"
said Joe afterward, telling the story of their early
sporting days. "He took the oars, and give a
tremendous pull, as if he was goin' to send us home
with two strokes; but jest as he was strainin'
with all his might, they slipped out of the rullocks,
and away he went, over backward, and heels over
head into the bottom of the boat, with his legs
stridin' up over the thwart, and his arms spread
like a thug's wings, and his head and shoulders in
a puddle of water, in the bottom of the dory. It
must have hurt him some; but, for the life of me,
I could n't help laughing He got up, brushed the


began to skew; and the third one took us broad-
side. 'T was a wrecker, I tell you and did n't it
heave and twist us! We came within one of chop-
pin' over and you never see a chap so scared He
pulled first one oar, then t' other; we turned com-
pletely around, and was putting' out to sea agin afore
we knowed it!
Bless my heart, Joe,' says he, take the oars!
Take 'em! I would n't row unto the breakers again
for a'million dollars '
"But I ought not to say a word agin Bonwig,"
adds Joe, laughing, whenever he tells the story to his
children-for this adventure, as I said in the begin-
ning, happened years ago; he is no longer Young
Joe, he is Old Joe now. He was a first-rate, tip-


[FEBRUARY.


232








0876.] ACTING BALLADS. 233


top feller, arter all. And his conduct to me was
right down handsome, when I took him over to
town in our wagon-for he was too late for the
stage. 'Joe,' says he, jest afore we got to his house,
'I believe, with your father, that shooting' ducks is
a knack; rowin' a dory in the breakers requires a
knack, too. I'm getting' too old and clumsy to
learn to do either; and I believe I sha' n't try again.
And now, Joe, my boy,' says he, as I don't ex-
pect to use my gun again, and as you seem to take
such a fancy to it, and as you have been so very


kind to me, in spite of your jokes, I've concluded,'
says he, 'to make you a present.' And what did
the gay old chap do but slip that beautiful double-
shooter into my hand. Did n't the salt spray
come into my eyes? and war n't I the proudest
and happiest boy in thirteen counties, at that
moment ? And have n't I kept that rare old stub-
twist shootin'-iron all these years, to remember
Bonwig by ?"
And Joe takes down the piece from over the
chimney corner, and shows it again to his children.


ACTING BALLADS.

BY A4MY LOVELL.


IN the long winter evenings, when lessons are all
learned, supper eaten, and while bed-time is still
a good way off, there comes a pause which is (or
should be) "known as the children's hour." Every-
body is a little tired. Boys and girls stretch them-
selves again, and wish there were something pleas-
ant to do. If there is not anything pleasant to do,
the yawns increase, the pause becomes first dull,
then quarrelsome, and the evening ends unpleas-
antly, or the boys sidle toward the door and invent
errands to the store or the post-office, which lays
the foundation of a habit of being out, and of vari-
ous mischiefs.
Now there are plenty of pleasant things which
can be done to fill up this unoccupied hour. The
boys and girls can play at chess, backgammon, or
cards. Don't be shocked, dear papas and mammas,
at the word "cards." Cards are not in themselves
harmful, and almost all young people are likely to
play them sooner or later. It is a thousand times
better that they should do so at home as a permitted
amusement, than away from home, with the feel-
ing that they are indulging in a guilty pleasure
which they must hide from you. There can be
reading aloud from some really entertaining book.
There are parlor games of all kinds, and some which
tax the wits a little without tiring them. There are
candy-pulling, corn-popping, roasting apples by a
string, telling stories round the fire, piano kaleido-
scope, acting charades. And, easier than charades,
and better fun, there is acting a ballad, about which
I particularly want to tell, because it is new to
many of you, and in the long winter evenings at
hand you may like to try it.


Acting a ballad does not require as much prep-
aration as acting a charade, because the move-
ment is all in pantomime, and is regulated by the
movement of the ballad chosen. It is necessary,
of course, that all who act should know the ballad,
or should read it over carefully several times, so as
to be prepared for what is coming, and ready to
express by their gestures and faces what is supposed
to be going on. Many who have not confidence to
act in a charade, will find that they can do this
easily, for no ready wit is needed, and it often is
much easier to follow a course laid out for you
than to invent one of your own.
If there is a piano in the room and any one who
can sing, the ballad should be sung, slowly and dis-
tinctly, with an accompaniment which introduces
an imitation of the sounds of wars, storms, guns,
or whatever else may transpire in the ballad. If
not, it must be read or recited, taking care to pro-
nounce clearly and give due emphasis to the words.
The characters must come in at the proper mo-
ment as the singing or reading progresses, and
time their movements to the movement of the
story. The ballad chosen should always be one in
which there is little relation and as much action as
possible. Campbell's ballad of "Lord Ullin's
Daughter is a good example of the sort of ballad
to choose. "The Young Lochinvar" is another,
and that pretty poem, "Old Mistletoe Bough,"
which is always successful, giving as it does oppor-
tunity for quaint groups and sudden changes of
scene.* Others, which I have never seen acted, but
which could not fail of effect, are Tennyson's ballads
of "The Lord of Burleigh" and "Lady Clare."


* This ballad, with full directions for acting it in costume, was given in ST. NICHOLAS for January, 1875, page 191.


1876.]


ACTING BALLADS.


233








ACTING BALLADS.


None of these arefunny ballads, although the im-
provised scenery, dresses and stage properties will
naturally lend a flavor of comedy to them as they
are enacted. In entertainments of this sort, grace
should be consulted as well as comedy, and there is
a wide difference between burlesquing a poem and
acting it with just that tender edge of fun which
gives piquancy without marring the intention of
the poet.
As an example of comical ballad-acting, let us
take Campbell's Lord Ullin's Daughter," a poem
with which most of you are probably familiar. It
requires four principal performers, and two or
three assistants, who remain out of sight, or by
the courtesy of the audience are supposed to
be so.
The curtain rises revealing the ferry-man in his
boat. There is no need of an actual curtain; a
blanket shawl hung on two gimlets answers the
purpose perfectly, or if there are two connecting
rooms a door can be opened and shut. As real
boats are not easily obtainable in parlors, it will be
well to make a substitute out of two large clothes
baskets, which will furnish convenient accommoda-
tion for three persons. There must be footstools
or boxes for seats, and beneath the boat large trav-
eling shawls or table-cloths should be spread,
which the assistants at the sides of the room can
shake to imitate the movement of waves,-slightly
at first, but more and more impetuously as the story
goes on. The boatman is naturally in shirt-sleeves
or in a jacket or great-coat, while pokers or yard-
sticks will suffice for oars.
The other characters are the lady, her knight,
and the father.
The poem begins thus:

A chieftain to the Highlands bound,
Cries, "Boatman do not tarry!
And I 'II give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry."

During the singing of this verse the chief and
lady enter. The chief shows the boatman a piece
of money. He is dressed in hat and tall feather,
with a plaid shawl arranged to represent the High-
lander's 'f plaid," and is armed with a bread-knife
or pistols; he also carries a valise, band-box and
umbrella. The lady should be attired in a wide
hat and water-proof cloak, and should carry a bird-
cage, a work-basket, and a parasol.
Second verse:

Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water? "
"Oh, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this Lord Ullin's daughter."

This is all in pantomime, of course. The boat-
man calls attention to the stormy water, as the


waves rise, and strives with gestures to dissuade
them from crossing. Third verse:
"And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together;
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather."
Here the lady is terrified and shudders, looking
imploringly at the boatman. He goes on with
much action through the next:
His horsemen fast behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who should cheer my bonnie bride
When they have slain her lover?"
The boatman consents to receive them, and bus-
tles about as preparing the boat. The lady clings
to her lover and looks anxiously behind. Next
verse:
Outspoke the hardy Highland wight,
"I '11 go, my chief, I'm ready.
It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady.
And by my word! the bonnie bird
In danger shall not tarry;
So though the waves are raging white,
I'll row you o'er the ferry."

They hurry their luggage into the boat; the lady
gets in, the chief and the boatman remain, stand-
ing and look back for the pursuers.
But now the storm increases, the gas should be
lowered, and the piano accompaniment should be
a low dull roll in the bass, with occasional high wild
notes, to represent the water-spirit.

With this the storm grew loud apace;
The water-wraith was shrieking;
And in the scowl of heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men-
Their tramping sounded nearer

A tramping should be made in the hall, grad-
ually approaching; the terror of all in the boat
increases.
haste thee, haste! the lady cries,
I Though tempests round us gather;
I '1 meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father."
The boat has left that stormy land,
A stormy sea before her-
But oh! too strong for mortal hand,
The tempest gathered o'er her.

The lady clings to her bird-cage, the chief puts
down his umbrella wide open and feebly assists in
the rowing. The waves increase, and the tramp-
ing approaches nearer.
And still they rode amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing--
Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore;
His wrath was changed to wailing.


234


[FEBRUARY,







THE SHOWER OF GOLD.


Here Lord Ullin rides in on a chair or cane, with
'cloak and feathered hat. He is armed with a lance,
which can be improvised from a yard-stick. See-
ing the. fearful situation of things, the distracted
parent rides frantically up and down imploring
their return, his steed curvetting excitedly.

For, sore dismayed, through storm and shade
His child he did discover;
One lovely hand she stretched for aid,
And one was round her lover.
Come back! come back! he cried with grief,
Across that stormy water;
And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter! 0 my daughter!"

The gestures of the stern father must show how
intense is his anxiety. The boat reels; one by one
the things are thrown overboard, bird-cage, valise,
umbrella and work-basket. Even these sacrifices
are in vain. The boatman endeavors to turn the
boat.
'T was vain-the loud waves lashed the shore,
Return or aid preventing.
The waters wild went o'er his child,
And he was left lamenting.

The entire boat and its contents toss and reel,
until they at last all topple over, and are supposed


to be submerged in the wild waters;'the waves
(shawls) rise, and finally cover them from sight.
The father remains frantically riding to and fro,
ringing his hands, and enacting the most intense
despair. At last he rides off, while the others
emerge from their watery graves, and the curtain
falls, let us hope, amid "immense applause."
Ingenuity is essential in converting to use mate-
rials that some would think of no avail, but which
others quickly adopt. Thus an open umbrella be-
comes an apple-tree with an apple stuck on each
point, a shovel and poker make a fair violin, while
a muff-box or a saucepan does duty as a military
hat. This is much better fun than to have the real
things. What is more amusing than the play in
"Midsummer Night's Dream," where a lantern'
represents moonshine, and somebody takes the part
of a wall, holding up his fingers to make a cranny
for the lovers to whisper through !
Both for winter and summer evenings ballad-
acting can be made an available entertainment.
Even in the woods at a picnic, one could be easily
arranged, the bushes serving as screen and green-
room for the characters, and the stage appoint-
ments being furnished out of the lunch baskets
and the wearing apparel of the audience.


THE SHOWER OF GOLD.

By R. R. BOWKER.


; '.i-'",- T was a bright afternoon in mid-
.. summer, and the jeweler who
a-: i lives in the sun was showering
S everything with gold. Did you
never hear of the jeweler who
lives in the sun? It is he who
-'in the morning turns the dew-
drops into sparkling diamonds,
and at noonday makes rainbow
bridges of the sun's precious
stones, and, when sunset comes,
builds castles of ruby with gates
of pearl. A wonderful workman
is he, and now he was emptying great bushel-bas-
kets full of gold dust out of his shop-windows, and
the lake was all smooth gold, as far as eyes could
see, and the green trees were all covered, and so
were the blue mountains, and one could see it com-
ing softly down through the air from beyond the


white clouds. One could see at the edges of the
clouds, too, how it had fallen upon them, and had
lodged among their fleece and there stayed. It
was as if there had been a snow-storm in summer,
and all the snow-flakes were pure gold.
Four men were in a boat on the lake, and one
said to the others: Look at the gold One was
a poet, who sang to hearts of the golden age; and
one was a miser, who hoarded the yellow gold so
that no one but he could see it, or use it, and it
could do no good; and the third was a barterer,
who bought and sold it, and thought of it only;
and the last was an artist, who had golden visions,
and painted pictures that made folks joyful with
longing.
So they all looked at the gold, and each one
thought to himself: "What may I do with it?"
And the miser 1. .,ri I will get on shore as
soon as ever I can, and I will hurry and get all the


1876.1


235


"I







SALLY WATSON'S RIDE.


largest trunks that ever I can, and be first to
gather up all the gold, and nobody shall have any
of it but me." So he got to land, and found six-
teen trunks, each as large as a bureau. But when
he got them to the place, the gold was nowhere to
be seen, and not the smallest gold-flake did the
miser get.
And the barterer thought: "I will fill my pouches
with the gold, and carry it to the city, and buy and
sell, and make more." So he opened all his
pouches as wide as he could, and the gold fell in,
and he buttoned and stitched and double-stitched
them up, as safe as safe could be. But when he
got to the city and opened them,-it had all van-
ished, and there was no gold in them !
And the artist thought: "I will let it fall upon
my palette, and catch it in my brush, and' thus I
will mix it with my colors and paint pictures that
will make people joyous and me great." So he did,


and painted sea and shore and sky so wonderfully
that men forgot their sorrows and were joyous, and
praised the artist.
And the poet? The poet's heart was so full that
he could do nothing; he could not think what was
so beautiful that he might use so beautiful a thing
for it. He could only open his soul to the beauty
of it, and pray that he might give its beauty also to
others. There it lay, till one time when he was
sad and in trouble, and then it shaped itself into
strange, sweet music, and by and by the poet wrote
a wonderful poem, so that all the hearts of the peo-
ple opened to him, and they listened when he sang
to them what was happiness, and how to know
and to be the good, the true, and the beautiful-
that was it.
And the miser and the barterer wished: "Oh
that I were the artist!" and the artist wished:
" Oh that I were the poet "


SALLY WATSON'S RIDE.

BY MARTHA M. THOMAS.


SALLY, can't you go over to Uncle Eben's this
afternoon and bring home those pigs ? There are
seven in the litter he promised me, and they are
quite large. I must finish getting the wheat in,
and he does not want to feed them any longer.
The pen is ready."
Sally, a bright-looking girl of about fourteen,
raised herself from the tub over which she leaned,
and said, as she wiped down her arms with her
hands: "How, father?"
Mr. Watson had come in for his ten o'clock snack
after his early breakfast. He stood in the middle
of the kitchen floor, a bowl of coffee in one hand,
and a huge piece of apple-pie in the other. He
took a bite of the latter, and a drink of coffee be-
fore he answered.
In the little light wagon. I stopped at Eben's
yesterday as I came from meeting, and he said he
would put them up securely in a couple of old coops
that would stand in the back of the wagon. You
can have Dolly; we are not using her. What do
you say, mother; can you spare her ?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Watson, a neat, brisk little
woman, who came in, basket in hand, from hang-
ing up the clothes; '" the wash will all be out by
noon, and I will clean up."


Can't I have one of the pigs for going for them,
father! You said you only wanted a half-dozen; and
there are seven."
"Yes, and you can buy your Sunday suit next
Fall with the money it brings." He pulled her ear
as he went out again to his work.
My! Sally gave a little nod of her head as
she began briskly rubbing her ear. "I'm sure I'11
make it fat. Jane Burns got sixteen dollars for the
one her father gave her last year. Mother, can't I
take Lot and Polly; it is such a long, lonesome way
to go by one's self?"
Mrs. Watson assented, adding: "Dolly is such
a fast trotter you can stay there a while, and get
home before dark. Be sure you stop at the post-
office, and go to the store and get me some but-
tons."
There was a great deal to do; dinner was late, and
the afternoon had quite set in when Sally started.
Her way was through the village a half-mile off,
and then nearly five miles beyond: It was the first
week in October, the day was warm and soft, and
the country beautiful. The road lay through the
woods, steep in places, running up hills and down
again in little valleys, through which many a creek
babbled; it was not fenced off, and the wild grape


236


[FEBRUARY,








SALLY WATSON S RIDE. 237


and the pawpaw were almost within reach, as they
rode along. The trees had just begun to turn.
The sugar maple swayed gently to the light breeze,
scattering a crimson cloud to the earth; the Virginia
creeper embraced the huge trunks, or flung out
long, graceful branches of purple, and brown, and
scarlet; the pawpaw was flaming in golden yellow;
the haw, with its red berries, dotted the road-side,
while here and there, brilliant with the hue of roy-
alty's self, great clusters of iron-weed towered in
the Autumn light, and from the branches of the
butternut, hickory and walnut, the occasional sound
of dropping nuts was heard.
Dolly trotted along briskly, and the children
talked of the wonderful animals they had seen the
Saturday before,-for a traveling menagerie had
halted on some fields near the village, and the
whole population for miles around had turned out
to visit it. Lot, who was a boy of eight, had been
most impressed by the bears, but Patty, who was
younger, seemed to have been most fascinated with
the big snake.
Then they fell to talking "sposens," what they
should do if a bear or snake was to attack them
there in the woods. Lot was extremely valiant; he
thrust about with a stick, showing how he would
put him to flight, and in the midst of their talk
they reached their uncle's house, having met but
one person on the road.
They made but a short stay, as it was getting
late, and, with the pigs cooped and stowed in the
back of the wagon, which had no top and was open
all around, started for home.
Seated on the floor, Lot and Patty poked bits of
apple through the slats of the coop to the young
porkers, speculating upon their appearance and
advising Sally which to take for her own. Lot
would have the black one if he were she, because
it was the biggest, but Patty thought the little
spotted one was "so cunning."
They were about a mile from the village at the
top of a long hill, when Lot, who had exhausted
his supply of apple bits, and for the last fifteen
minutes had been poking the pigs, delighted to.
hear them squeal, suddenly gave them such a thrust
that Sally bade him stop the noise, and come and
sit beside her on the seat.
He arose'to do as he was bidden, and as he did
so, stood for a moment with his back to her, still
poking the pigs. Just then the wagon jolted over a
large stone, he was thrown on the coop, the stick
was punched violently into a pig's side, it squealed,
Lot screamed, and Patty began to cry.
Considerably out of patience, Sally leaned back,
and, catching him by the arm, 'was about to seat
him rather violently beside her, when she was ar-
rested by his exclaiming:


"See see Sally, look look! what an awful
bear "
The tone of his voice more than his words-for
he was a sensational child, and was constantly see-
ing wonderful things-caused Sally to turn her eyes
in the direction indicated by his frightened gesture.
The wood was open at this spot, and there were
no large trees near; but at some distance, almost
alone, stood a great sycamore, the branches of
which were nearly bare; between the tree and the
road the ground was thickly covered with black-
berry, pawpaw, and other bushes.
As she glanced quickly toward the great syca-
more, a something huge, she could not tell what,
leaped from the tree to the ground, and she could
hear the underbrush crack beneath it. She knew
there were no ferocious wild animals in Ohio, noth-
ing in the forests to harm her, and had not been
for many years, but her face blanched with fear.
"Lie down," she said in a tone which both terri-
fied and quieted the children, as she thrust Lot to
the bottom of the wagon and tore the stick from
his hands, laying it quickly and forcibly on Dolly's
back.
The horse sprung forward in a gallop, reaching
the foot of the hill in a few moments and clattering
over the few boards thrown across the creek for a
bridge. Now Sally ventured to look back. The
huge thing was on their track, coming along in
great leaps, which would soon bring him up to
them.
"Don't raise your heads," she said to the chil-
dren, who were so alarmed they lay perfectly still.
Then she leaned forward and with all her strength
belabored the horse. There was a long level piece
of road now, but the nearest house was a mile off.
Poor Dolly was speeding over the ground, intensely
roused and excited by this unusual treatment, and
seemed to feel there was danger, for her ears stood
erect.
Sally turned again to look. There was nothing
now to intercept her view, and she saw the terrible
animal not far behind, amid the cloud of dust their
progress made, coming on-on !'
Frantically she struck poor Dolly.
"Is the bear coming? Will he eat us?" came
in smothered accents from the bottom of the wagon,
where the children lay with their faces pressed close
to the boards.
Sally did not reply. She gave another look, saw
that the thing gained on them, and exerting all
her strength in giving Dolly a last blow, which
sent her bounding forward, she got over the seat-
over the children, unheeding their questions, and
seizing one of the coops threw it over the tail-board
out in the road. The pigs squealed as it touched
the earth, and the noise added to Dolly's terror,


SALLY WATSON'S RIDE.


237







SALLY WATSON'S RIDE.


which was now so intense she was entirely beyond not see the animal coming. This was worse than
Sally's control. watching its approach. She threw the other coop
"Are we going to be eaten up ?" Lot whimpered out, then stretched herself between the children,
in almost a whisper. closed her eyes, and drew an arm tightly around
Hush," she answered, "hush." She let the each.
horse take its way, and placed herself on her knees As she lay thus clasping them, she felt Dolly's
between the children and the other coop. pace slacken. She kept still, feeling that if she
The terrible creature had stopped. She could see moved something would spring upon her. The
it strike the coop with its paw, and see the pieces horse was evidently wearying-gradually her gait
fly as he touched it. How long would it keep became slower; they must be near the village.
him, she thought; and there came a throb of re- With a great effort she raised herself, and saw


-.- ------ --
.. -
_; .._ --1 -s. '. ''
... ,,.. ; -
.. ....-~-- I -- -" ". *< .--2 :' :' -



-_ .-_-- _. :._ _.


SALLY THROWS OUT THE COOP.


lief as she saw that meantime they were speeding
further and further away.
She looked round in vain; there was no one in
sight, the farm-house was still a quarter of a mile
ahead, and the animal she feared was becoming
only a black spot in the distance; but as she gazed
with fixed eyes, she saw the dust rise again. It
was moving.
They reached the farm-house gate. It was closed.
She could not stop Dolly now, and, even if she
could, she had not the courage to get down and
open it, and drive to the house some distance up
the lane. She called aloud, but no one heard.
There were turns in the road-several; she could


.the houses only a little distance in advance. She
crawled over the children and the seat, and gath-
ered up the reins. Dolly gave a start as she did
so, but in a moment subsided-got into her usual
pace, and dropped that for a walk. Ih a few mo-
ments she was in the street of the village, and at
the store. Clambering out of the wagon, Sally tried
to tell Mr. Jones her story, but burst into tears, and
was unable to speak.
The children, who had followed her, now found
their voices, and eagerly told of the bear, and how
she had thrown them the pigs.
"Bless my soul, what is this?" asked Mr. Jones
in excitement.


238


[FEBRUARY,


. ^ :_ - -- -


,* _r-^ ',,
2-
a~ --







1876.] A PUZZLED BOY. 239


Then Sally recovered, and informed him of what
had happened to them.
"Why-why," he stuttered in agitation, "it's
the panther that escaped last night from the mena-
gerie at W-. There is the hand-bill put up about
an hour ago, offering a reward for it. You're-
you're lucky he did not ma-make a meal of you in-
stead of the pigs."
Patty shook her head, "The poor things hol-
lered so."
A crowd soon gathered in the store, eager to hear
all Sally had to tell; then the men of the village
armed themselves to go in search of the animal.
Sally was still trembling, and'poor Dolly, wet as
though she had been through the river, was shiver-
ing and panting at the same time. The half-mile
of road they had to pass over to reach home after
leaving the village ran for the better part through
a wood. Sally was too alarmed to venture there
alone, and a couple of men, who had hastily seized
some weapon, accompanied her. So excited were
they that every cracking noise in the trees put them
on the alert; and once they exclaimed, "There he
is! throwing the poor children into new alarms.


Mr. Watson was incredulous when Lot burst out
with Oh, father, we have been chased by a bear
-no, not a bear-a dreadful wild thing! and he
would have thought Sally the victim of her own
fears, had they not told him a panther had escaped
from the menagerie; then he was most thankful for
their deliverance.
Dolly was blanketed and cared for, and they
went in to supper, Lot's tongue going all the time
about "the bear." Sally could not eat, she was
still unnerved, and Patty could only pity the poor
little pigs.
"Indeed, father," Sally said in answer to his
commendation, "if it had not been for that story
in my Reader, we might all have been eaten up.
When Lot talked about the bears as we were going
over to Uncle Eben's, and what he would do if
one was to attack us, I thought about the Russian
woman throwing out her children to the wolves, to
save herself, and that put it into my head to throw
out the pigs when I saw the panther."
For a long time Sally had an uncomfortable feel-
ing in the woods, although the panther was caught
on the next day and returned to its cage.


A PUZZLED BOY.

BY MARY DAYTON.

WHAT is the difference if I mind or no?
The difference is, I mind and lose the show.
And if I take the show and disobey,
The difference is an aching back all day.
The thing's not fair, for if I choose the fun,
I get the thrashing when the sport is done;
And what comes last is best remembered, so
I 'm sure to get a deal more lash than show.
Bobby says lie; but if I lie, why, then,
Perhaps I '11 have to twenty times again;
And if I lie, the truth is lost indeed-
And truth's a thing you very often need.
Besides, these lies will only cowards use,
And so, you see, a fellow cannot choose.
Now, if a boy must never disobey,
'T is ten to one he '11 never have his way;
And if he takes his way, and keeps the truth,
He's ten to one a most unlucky youth.
Now, if he keeps the law, I'd like to know
How'can a boy his independence show;
And if he breaks the law, I 'd like to see
In what respect a fellow can be free.


1876.1


A PUZZLED BOY.


239







240 HUNTING THE MOOSE. [FEBRUARY,


HUNTING THE MOOSE.


,t At I


---- ,-- =I :

:-"-,/ :." ,i 11. .:
II,,



H-"A


:;F-


t
-!- It,
14 31'
J. id1


j.1 |v .. --


r.... UNTIN- THE -MOO



HUNTING T`HE MOOSE,


THE moose, as we all know, is the very largest
of the deer family, and is indeed as high as a com-
mon horse. Now, size is often a great advantage,
but not in all cases; and his great size and weight
sometimes prove fatal to the moose. In winter,
when the snow is covered by a slight crust, over
which ordinary animals can travel with ease, the
poor moose, when pursued by the hunter, finds that
he breaks through the crust at every step. Of
course he cannot make very swift progress in this
way, and the Indian hunter, on his snow-shoes, can


run much faster, and 'soon comes up with him.
Not many years ago, moose were found in the
unsettled parts of Maine and New York, but they
have been hunted so much for the sake of their ex-
cellent flesh, that they are now seldom seen except
in the regions north of those states. They are
sometimes very unpleasant creatures to meet, for
they may turn upon the hunter, even when he has
not yet wounded or fired upon them. So it is often
very well for the hunter that he is on snow-shoes,
and that the moose breaks through the crust.


HUNTING THE MOOSE.


[FEBRUARY,


240


_C
::-:tld
i







THE STORY OF JON OF ICELAND.


A VALENTINE.

BY L. E. R.

OH! little loveliest lady mine,
What shall I send for your valentine?
Summer and flowers are far away;
Gloomy old Winter is king to-day.
Buds will not blow, and sun will not shine;
What shall I do for a valentine?

Prithee, St. Valentine, tell me here,
Why do you come at this time o' year?
Plenty of days when lilies are white,
Plenty of days when sunbeams are bright.
But now, when everything's dark and drear,
Why do you come, St. Valentine dear?

I've searched the gardens all through and through,
For a bud to tell of my love so true.
But buds were asleep and blossoms were dead,
And the falling snow came down on my head.
So, little loveliest lady mine,
Here is my heart for your valentine!









THE STORY OF JON OF ICELAND.

BY BAYARD TAYLOR.


CHAPTER IV.
How much time passed in the sleep he never
could exactly learn; probably six to seven hours.
He was aroused by what seemed to be icy-cold rat's
feet scampering over his face, and as he started
and brushed them away with his hand, his ears
became alive to 'a terrible, roaring sound. He
started up, alarmed, at first bewildered, then sud-
denly wide awake. The cold feet upon his face
were little threads of water trickling from above ;
the fearful roaring came from a storm-a hurricane
of mixed rain, wind, cloud, and snow. It was day,
yet still darker than the Arctic summer night, so
dense and black was the tempest. When Jon crept
out of the crevice, he was nearly thrown down by
the force of the wind. The first thing he did was
to seek the two lines of stones he had arranged for
his guidance: They had not been blown away, as
VOL. III.--17.


he feared; and the sight of the arrow-head made
his heart leap with gratitude to the Providence
which had led him, for without that sign he would
have been bewildered, at the very start. Return-
ing to the cleft, which gave a partial shelter, he ate
the greater part of his remaining store of food,
fastened his thick coat tightly around his breast
and throat, and set out on the desperate homeward
journey, carefully following the lighter streak of
rock across the plain.
He had not gone more than a hundred yards
when he fancied he heard a sharp, hammering
sound through the roar of the tempest, and paused
to listen. The sound came rapidly nearer; it was
certainly the hoofs of many horses. Nothing could
be seen ; the noise came from the west, passed in
front of Jon, and began to die away to the east-
ward. His blood grew chill for a moment. It was


241







THE STORY OF JON OF ICELAND.


all so sudden and strange and ghostly, that he
knew not what to think; and he was about to push
forward and get out of the region where such things
happened, when he heard, very faintly, the cry
which the Icelanders use in driving their baggage-
ponies. Then he remembered the deep gorge he
had seen to the eastward, before reaching the
crater; the invisible travelers were riding toward
it, probably lost, and unaware of their danger.


IL;


I--
I-




ii


forming a semicircle in front of him; and then one
of three dim, spectral riders, leaning forward, again
called: "Come here! "
I cannot Jon answered again.
Thereupon, another of the horsemen rode close
to him, and stared down upon him. He said some-
thing which Jon understood to be: "Erik, it is a
little boy !"-but he was not quite sure, for the
man's way of talking was strange. He put the
--2 -- -':- - -2 :__:_:- -.2 -_=- --- _. 1


L5 X! Si


WK
T'-- -_ -


__-


ON MEETING WITH



JON'S MEETING WITH THE THREE HORSEMEN.


This thought passed through Jon's mind like a
flash of lightning; he shouted with all the strength
of his voice.
He waited, but there was no answer. Then he
shouted again, while the wind seemed to tear the
sound from his lips and fling it away-but on the
course the hoofs had taken.
This time a cry came in return; it seemed far
off, because the storm beat against the sound. Jon
shouted a third time, and the answer was now more
distinct. Presently he distinguished words:
"Come here to us "
I cannot he cried.
In a few minutes more he heard the hoofs return-
ing, and then the forms of ponies became visible
through the driving snow-clouds. They halted,


words in the wrong places, and pronounced them
curiously.
The man who had first spoken jumped off his
horse. Holding the bridle, he came forward and
said, in good, plain Icelandic:
Why could n't you come when I called you ?"
I am keeping the road back," replied Jon; "if
I move, I might lose it."
Then why did you call us ?"
I was afraid you had lost your way, and might
get into the chasm; the storm is so bad you could
not see it."
"What's that?" exclaimed the first who had
spoken.
Jon described the situation as well as he could,
and the stranger at last said, in his quecr, broken


242


[FEBRUARY,


"--
'---"-







THE STORY OF JON OF ICELAND.


speech: "Lost way-we; can guide-you-know
how ?"
The storm raged so furiously that it was with
great difficulty that Jon heard the words at all;
but he thought he understood the meaning. So
he looked the man in the face, and nodded, silently.
Erik-pony I cried the latter.
Erik caught one of the loose ponies, drew it for-
ward, and said to Jon :
Now, mount and show us the way !"
I cannot !" Jon repeated. I will guide you;
I was on my way already, but I must walk back
just as I came, so as to find the places and know
the distances."
Sir," said Erik, turning to the other traveler,
we must let him have his will. It is our only
chance of safety. The boy is strong and fearless,
and we can surely follow where he was willing to
go alone."
Take the lead, boy the other said; more
quick, more money "
Jon walked rapidly in advance, keeping his eyes
on the lighter coloredstreak in the plain. He saw
nothing, but every little sign and landmark was
fixed so clearly in his mind that he did not feel the
least fear or confusion. He could hardly see, in
fact, the foremost of the ponies behind him, but he
caught now and then a word, as the men talked
with each other. They had come from the north-
ern shore of the island; they were lost, they were
chilled, weary; their ponies were growing weak
from hunger and exposure to the terrible weather;
and they followed him, not so much because they
trusted his guidance, as because there was really
nothing else left for them to do.
In an hour and a half they reached the first land-
mark; and when the men saw Jon examining the
line of stones he had laid, and then striking boldly
off through the whirling clouds, they asked no
questions, but urged their ponies after him: Thus
several hours went by. Point after point was dis-
covered, although no object could be seen until it
was reached; but Jon's strength, which had been
kept up by his pride and his anxiety, at last began
to fail. The poor boy had been so long exposed to
the wind, snow, and icy rain, that his teeth chat-
tered in his head, and his legs trembled as he
walked. About noon, fortunately, there was a lull
in the storm; the rain slackened, and the clouds
lifted themselves so that one might see for a mile
or more. He caught sight of the rocky corner for
which he was steering, stopped, aid pointed toward
one of the loose p6nies.
Erik jumped from the saddle, and threw his arms
around Jon, whose senses were fast vanishing. He
felt that something was put to his lips, that he was
swallowing fire, and that his icy hands were wrapped


in a soft, delicious warmth. In a minute he found
that Erik had thrust them under his jacket, while
the other two were bending over him with anxious
faces. The stranger who spoke so curiously held
a cake to his mouth, saying: "Eat-eat!" It was
wonderful how his strength came back !
Very soon he was able to mount the pony and
take the lead. Sometimes the clouds fell dense
and dark around them ; but when they lifted only
for a second, it was enough for Jon. Men and
beasts suffered alike, and at last Erik said :
Unless we get out of the desert in three hours,
we must all perish "
Jon's face brightened. In three hours," he
exclaimed, there will be pasturage, and water,
and shelter."
He was already approaching the region which he
knew thoroughly, and there was scarcely a chance
of losing the way. They had more than one furi-
ous. gust to encounter-more than one moment
when the famished and exhausted ponies halted
and refused to move; but toward evening the last
ridge was reached, and they saw below them, under
a dark roof of clouds, the green valley-basin, the
gleam of the river, and the scattered white specks
of the grazing sheep.

CHAPTER V.
THE ram Thor bleated loudly when he saw his
master. Jon was almost too weary to move hand
or foot, but he first visited every sheep, and ex-
amined his rough home under the rock, and his
few remaining provisions, before he sat down to
rest. By this time, the happy ponies were appeas-
ing their hunger, Erik and his fellow-guide had
pitched a white tent, and there was a fire kindled.
The owner of the tent said something which Jon
could not hear, but Erik presently shouted:
"The English gentleman asks you to come and
take supper with us! "
Jon obeyed, even more from curiosity than
hunger. The stranger had a bright, friendly face,
and stretched out his hand as the boy entered the
tent. Good guide-eat!" was all he was able to
say in Icelandic, but the tone of his voice meant a
great deal more. There was a lamp hung to the
tent-pole, an india-rubber blanket spread on the
ground, and cups and plates, which shone like
silver, in readiness for the meal. Jon was amazed
to see Erik boiling three or four tin boxes in the
kettle of water; but when they had been opened,
and the contents poured into basins, such a fragrant
steam arose as he had never smelled in his life.
There was pea-soup, and Irish stew, and minced
collops, and beef,-and tea, with no limit to the
lumps of sugar,-and sweet biscuits, and currant
jelly Never had he sat down to such a rich, such


1876.]


243


a








THE STORY OF JON OF ICELAND.


a wonderful banquet. He was almost afraid to take
enough of the dishes, but the English traveler filled
his plate as fast as it was emptied, patted him on
.the back, and repeated the words: Good guide-
eat! Then he lighted a cigar, while Erik and
the other Icelander pulled out their horns of snuff,
threw back their heads, and each poured nearly a
teaspoonful into his nostrils. They offered the
snuff to Jon, but he refused both that and a cigar.
He was warm and comfortable, to the ends of his
toes, and his eyelids began to fall, in spite of all
efforts to hold them up, after so much fatigue and
exposure as he had endured.
In fact, his senses left him suddenly, although he
seemed to be aware that somebody lifted and laid
him down again-that something soft came under
his head, and something warm over his body-that
he was safe, and sheltered, and happy.
When he awoke it was bright day. He started
up, striking his head against a white wet canvas,
and sat a moment, bewildered, trying to recall what
had happened. He could scarcely believe that he
had slept all night in the tent, beside the friendly
Englishman; but he heard Erik talking outside,
and the crackling of a fire, and the shouting of
some one at a distance. The sky was clear and
blue; the sheep and ponies were nibbling sociably
together, and the Englishman, standing on a rock
beside the river, was calling attention to a big
salmon which he had just caught. Gudridsdale,
just then, seemed the brightest and liveliest place
in Iceland.
Jon knew that he had probably saved the party
from death; but he thought nothing of that, for
he had saved himself along with them. He was
simply proud and overjoyed at the chance of seeing
something new-of meeting with a real English-
man, and eating (as he supposed) the foreign,
English food. He felt no longer shy, since he had
slept a whole night beside the traveler. The two
Icelandic guides were already like old friends; even
the pony he had ridden seemed to recognize him.
His father had told him that Latin was the language
by which all educated men were able to communi-
cate their ideas; so as the Englishman came up,
with his salmon for their breakfast, he said, in
Latin :
To-day is better than yesterday, sir."
The traveler laughed, shook hands heartily, and
answered in Latin, with-to Jon's great surprise-
two wrong cases in the nouns :
"Both days are better for you than for me. I
have learned less at Oxford."
But the Latin and Icelandic together were a great
help to conversation, and, almost before he knew
what he was doing, Jon had told Mr. Lorne-so
the traveler was named-all the simple story of his


life, even his claim to the little valley-basin wherein
they were encamped, and the giving it his sister's
name. Mr. Lorne had crossed from the little town
of Akureyri, on the northern shore of Iceland, and
was bound down the valley of the Thirrva to the
Geysers, thence to Hekla, and finally to Rejkiavik,
where he intended to embark for England. As
Jon's time of absence had expired, his provisions
being nearly consumed, and as it was also neces-
sary to rest a day for the sake of the traveler's
ponies, it was arranged that all should return in
company to Sigurd's farm.
That last day in Gudridsdale was the most de-
lightful of all. They feasted sumptuously on the
traveler's stores, and when night came, the dried
grass from Jon's hollow under the rock was spread
within the tent, making a soft and pleasant bed for
the whole party.
Mounted on one of the ponies, Jon led the way
up the long ravine, cheerily singing as he drove
the full-fed- sheep before him. They reached the
level of the desert table-land, and he gave one
more glance at the black, scattered mountains to
the northward, where he had passed two such ad-
venturous days. In spite of all that he had seen
and learned in that time, he felt a little sad that he
had not succeeded in crossing the wilderness.
When they reached the point where their way de-
scended by a long, steep slope to the valley of the
Thiorva, he turned for yet another, farewell view.
Far off, between him and the nearest peak, there
seemed to be a moving speck. He pointed it out
to Erik, who, after gazing steadily a moment, said:
"It is a man on horseback."
"Perhaps another lost traveler !" exclaimed Mr.
Lorne; "let us wait for him."
It was quite safe to let the sheep and loose ponies
take their way in advance; for they saw the pas-
ture below them. In a quarter of an hour the man
and horse could be clearly distinguished. The
former had evidently seen them also, for he ap-
proached much more rapidly than at first.
All at once Jon cried out: "It is our pony, Heim-
dal! It must be my father !"
He sprang from the saddle, as he spoke, and ran
toward the strange horseman. The latter presently
galloped up, walked a few steps, and sat down
upon a stone. But Jon's arms were around him,
and as they kissed each other, the father burst into
tears.
I thought thou wert lost, my boy," was all he
could say.
But here I am,'father!" Jon proudly exclaimed.
"And the sheep ?"
Fat and sound, every one of them."
Sigurd rose and mounted his horse, and as they
all descended the slope together Jon and Erik told


244


[FEBRUARy,






THE STORY OF JON OF ICELAND.


him all that had happened. Mr. Lorne, to whom
the occurrence was explained, shook hands with
him, and, pointing to Jon, said in his broken way:
" Good son-little man Whereupon they all
laughed, and Jon could not help noticing the proud
and happy expression of his father's face.
On the afternoon of the second day they reached
Sigurd's farm-house; but the mother and Gudrid,
who had kept up an anxious look-out, met them
nearly a mile away. After the first joyous embrace
of welcome, Sigurd whispered a few words to his
wife, and she hastened back, to put the guest-room
in order. Mr. Lorne found it so pleasant to get
under a roof again, that he ordered another halt of
two days before going on to the Geysers and Hekla.
No beverage ever tasted so sweet to him as the
great bowl of milk which Gudrid brought, as soon
.as he had taken his seat, and the radishes from the
garden seemed a great deal better than the little
jar of orange marmalade which he insisted on giv-
ing in exchange for them.
"Oh, is it indeed orange?" cried Gudrid. "Jon,
Jon, now we shall know what the taste is !"
Their mother gave them a spoonful apiece, and
Mr. Lorne smiled as he saw their wondering, de-
lighted faces.
Does it really grow on a tree ?-and how high
is the tree ?-and what does it look like ?-like a
birch ?-or a potato-plant?" Jon asked, in his
eagerness, without waiting for the answers. It was
very difficult for him to imagine what he had never
seen, even in pictures, or anything resembling it.
Mr. Lorne tried to explain how different are the
productions of nature in warmer climates, .and the
children listened as if they could never hear enough
of the wonderful story. At last Jon said, in his firm,
quiet way : Some day I '11 go there "
"You will, my boy," Mr. Lorne replied; you
have strength and courage to carry out your will."
Jon never imagined that he had more strength
-or courage than any other boy, but he knew that
the Englishman meant to praise him, so he shook
hands as he had been taught to do on receiving a
gift.
The two days went by only too quickly. The
guest furnished food both for himself and the fam-
ily, for he shot a score of plovers and caught half a
dozen fine salmon. He was so frank and cheerful
that they soon became accustomed to his presence,
and were heartily sorry when Erik and the other
Icelandic guide went out to drive the ponies to-
gether, and load them for the journey. Mr. Lorne
called Sigurd and Jon into the guest-room, untied
a buckskin pouch, and counted out fifty silver rix-
dollars upon the table. "For my little guide!"
he said, putting his hand on Jon's thick curls.
Father and son, in their astonishment, uttered a


cry at the same time, and neither knew what to say.
But, brokenly as Mr. Lorne talked, they understood
him when he said that Jon had probably saved his
life, that he was a brave boy and would make a
good, brave man, and that if the father did not need
the money for his farm-expenses, he should apply
it to his son's education.
The tears were running down Sigurd's cheeks.
He took the Englishman's hand, gave it a powerful
grip, and simply said: "It shall be used for his
benefit."
Jon was so strongly moved that, without stopping
to think, he did the one thing which his heart sug-
gested. He walked up to Mr. Lorne, threw his
arms around his neck, and kissed him very ten-
derly.
All is ready, sir cried Erik, at the door. The
last packages were carried out and tied upon'the
baggage-ponies, farewells were said once more, and
the little caravan took its way down the valley. The
family stood in front of the house, and watched
until the ponies turned around the first cape of the
hills and disappeared; then they could only sit
down and talk of all the unexpected things that
had happened. There was no work done upon the
farm that day.
CHAPTER VI.
THE unusual warmth of the summer, which was
so injurious to the pastures lying near the southern
coast, wrought fortune to Sigurd's farm. The
price of wool was much higher than usual, and
owing to Jon's excursion into the mountains, the
sheep were in the best possible condition. They
had never raised such a crop of potatoes, nor such
firm, thick-headed cabbages, and by great care and
industry a sufficient supply of hay had been secured
for the winter.
I am afraid something will happen to us," said
Sigurd one day to his wife ; "the good luck comes
too fast."
"Don't say that! she exclaimed. If we were
to lose Jon "
"Jon interrupted Sigurd. Oh, no; look at
his eyes, his breast, his arms and legs-there are
a great many years of life in them He ought to
have a chance at -the school in Rejkiavik, but we
can hardly do without him this year."
Perhaps brother Magnus would take him," she
said.
"Not while I live," Sigurd replied, as he left the
room, while his wife turned with a sigh to her
household duties. Her family, and especially her
elder brother, Magnus, who was a man of wealth
and influence, had bitterly opposed her marriage
with Sigurd, on account of the latter's poverty, and
she had seen none of them since she came to live


1876.]


245







THE STORY OF JON OF ICELAND


on the lonely farm. Through great industry and
frugality, they had gradually prospered; and now
she began to long for a reconciliation, chiefly for
her husband's and children's sake. It would be
much better for Jon if he could find a home in his
uncle's house, when they were able to send him to
school.
So, when they next rode over to Kyrkedal on a
Sabbath day in the late autumn, she took with her
a letter to Magnus, which she had written without
her husband's knowledge, for she wished to save
him the pain of the slight, in case her brother
should refuse to answer, or should answer in an
unfriendly way. It was a pleasant day for all of
them, for Mr. Lorne had stopped a night at Kyrke-
dal, and Erik had told the people the story of
Jon's piloting them through the wilderness; so the
pastor, after service, came up at once to them and
patted Jon on the head, saying: "Bene fecisti,
fii And the other boys, forgetting their usual
shyness, crowded around and said: "Tell us all
about it i Everything was as wonderful to them,
as it still seemed to Jon in his memory, and when
each one said: If I had gone there I should have
done the same thing !" Jon wondered that he and
the boys should ever have felt so awkward and
bashful when they came together. Now it was all
changed; they talked and joked like old compan-
ions, and cordially promised to visit each other dur-
ing the winter, if their parents were willing.
On the way home Sigurd found that he had
dropped his whip, and sent Jon back to look for it,
leaving his wife and Gudrid to ride onward up the
valley. Jon rode at least half a mile before he
found it, and then came galloping back, cracking
it joyously. But Sigurd's face was graver and wea-
rier than usual.
"Ride a little while with me,'' he said; I want
to ask thee something." Then, as Jon rode beside
him in the narrow tracks which the ponies' hoofs
had cut through the turf, he added : The boys at
Kyrkedal seemed to make much of thee; I hope
thy head is not turned by what they said."
Oh, father Jon cried; they were so kind,
so friendly "
I don't doubt it," his father answered. Thou
hast done well, my son, and I see that thou art
older than thy years. But suppose there were a
heavier task in store for thee,-suppose that I


should be called away,-couldst thou do a man's
part, and care properly for thy mother and thy
little sister ? "
Jon's eyes filled with tears, and he knew not
what to say.
"Answer me Sigurd commanded.
"I never thought of that," Jon answered, in a
trembling voice; "but if I were to do my best,
would not God help me?"
He would Sigurd exclaimed, with energy.
"All strength comes from Him, and all fortune.
Enough-I can trust thee, my son; ride on to Gud-
rid, and tell her not to twist herself in the saddle,
looking back! "
Sigurd attended to his farm for several days
longer, but in a silent, dreamy way, as if his mind
were busy with other thoughts. His wife was so
anxiously awaiting the result of her letter to Mag-
nus, that she paid less attention to his condition
than she otherwise would have done.
But one evening, on returning from the stables,
he passed by the table where their frugal supper
was waiting, entered the bedroom, and sank down,
saying:
"All my strength has left me; I feel as if I
should never rise again."
They then saw that he had been attacked by a
dangerous fever, for his head was hot, his eyes
glassy, and he began to talk in a wild, incoherent
way. They could only do what the neighbors were
accustomed to do, in similar cases,-which really
was worse than doing nothing at all would have
been. Jon was dispatched next morning, on the
best pony, to summon the physician from Skalholt;
but, even with the best luck, three days must elapse
before the latter could arrive. The good pastor of
Kyrkedal came the next day and bled Sigurd,
which gave him a little temporary quiet, while it
reduced his vital force. The physician was absent,
visiting some farms far to the eastward,-in fact, it
was a full week before he made his appearance.
During this time Sigurd wasted away, his fits of
delirium became more frequent, and the chances
of his recovery grew less and less. Jon recalled,
now, his father's last conversation, and it gave him
both fear and comfort. He prayed, with all the
fervor of his boyish nature, that his father's life
might be spared; yet he determined to do his
whole duty, if the prayer should not be granted.


(To be coatimed.)


246


[FEBRUARY,







DISCONTENT.


DISCONTENT.


BY SARAH O. JEWETT.





- ...'Nm in a field, one day in June,
The flowers all bloomed together,
S Save one, who tried to hide herself,
And drooped, that pleasant weather.

A robin who had soared too high,
And felt a little lazy,
S Was resting near a buttercup
Who wished she were a daisy.

For daisies grow so trig and tall;
She always had a passion
For wearing frills about her neck
In just the daisies' fashion.

And buttercups must always be
The same old tiresome color,
While daisies dress in gold and white,
Although their gold is duller.

Dear robin," said this sad young flower,
Perhaps you 'd not mind trying
To find a nice white frill for me,
Some day, when you are flying?"

"You silly thing!" the robin said;
I think you must be crazy'!
I'd rather be my honest self
Than any made-up daisy.

You're nicer in your own bright gown,
The little children love you;
Be the best buttercup you can,
And think no flower above you.

Though swallows leave me out of sight,
We'd better keep our places;
Perhaps the world would all go wrong
With one too many daisies.

Look bravely up into the sky,
And be content with knowing
That God wished for a buttercup,
Just here where you are growing."


1876.]


247







THE TWO GOATS.


[FEBRUARY,


THE TWO GOATS.

BY SUSAN COOLIDGE.


I *I, '~n
'I' I ''
I, '' 11

51'"


j.
l f '. -- -


.-- ,, / -

I, 4 __ '-I

JI,



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I ,! I:,,' -',, I ,,,I ,
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[Two youthful goats, belonging to families of high degree among the goat tribes, once encountered each other upon a narrow tree-trunk
which spanned a mountain torrent. Said the goat from the East to the goat from the West: Go back and make way. I am an important
goat, a goat of degree. It is but proper that common goats should stand aside when I pass by." Common, indeed Pray what do you
mean by common ?" replied the one from the West. I would have you to know that I am a full-blooded Merino! Merinoes make way for
nobody. Go back yourself!" The dispute raged. Neither would yield an inch. At last, in heat of argument, their horns locked, and a
desperate struggle began, in the midst of which both goats lost footing, and, still fighting, fell from the bridge into the water, which speedily
cooled their anger and brought them to their senses.]


THE day of Miss Alicia Belden's annual picnic
was the most exciting day of the year in Lanark
village. Excitements were not frequent in pretty
Lanark, nor holidays many. There were Sundays,
to be sure-Sunday goes everywhere; Christmas,
observed in simple country fashion; Lady-day,
when rents came due and servants changed places;
Shrove Tuesday, conspicuous for pancakes; and
Good Friday, when all the world went to church
except the Independent Baptists, who (there being
nothing else doing) sat at home and found the day,
long and dull. But none of these, the children
thought, compared in interest with Miss Alicia's
picnic. It was their day, and grown people,
except Miss Alicia, had nothing whatever to do
with it.
Miss Alicia Belden was a retired sugar-baker.
The taste for gingerbread is universal as that for
freedom. Miss Alicia's gingerbread came as near
to being good as British gingerbread can be. It


looked like bar-soap, but it did not taste like that;
and the youth of Lanark, having never known the
delicious American article made of molasses, voted
it prime and consumed it in enormous quantities.
Buns and turnovers also did Miss Alicia. make;
cheese-cakes, which melted in the mouth; tea-
cakes, with currant eyes; and toffy, which won
praise even from London visitors. No wonder,
then, that her trade prospered, and that by the
time she was fifty, and her earliest customers staid
men and women with gingerbread-eating boys and
girls of their own, she was able, as the newspapers
say, to "retire on a competence." This com-
petence was not a large one, but it left a margin
for what Miss Alicia called pleasures," chief
among which was the annual picnic she gave all
the children of the village. Every one was in-
cluded, even the little Independent Baptists. Some
of Miss Alicia's friends thought that this was going
too far. But she would listen to no remonstrances.


248


I
~r:i ~r






L-`l ~;
-

~.B







THE TWO GOATS.


What! she said, go and leave any of the
poor dears behind to cry their eyes out at home !
I could n't enjoy the day a bit if I did-not one
bit." So all the children went.
Helm Island, six miles off at sea, being the pic-
nicking place, the day always began with a sail in
a wheezy little steam-tug chartered by Miss Alicia.
It left Lanark according to the tide. On this day
which I am going to tell about, the tide served at
half-past nine in the morning, and there was great
hurry and confusion in the village households to
get the little ones dressed and ready in time.
Some of the children had been up at daybreak to
see what sort of day it was going to be. These
thought the older folks unusually late and slow.
They danced about, impatiently begging every-
body to make haste, to hurry, or they should cer-
tainly be left behind; in which case-but here they
stopped; imagination could go no farther than
that frightful possibility !
"Put on your blue frock, Nancy," said Mrs.
Sarkie; "not the pink-sprigged. That lass of the
Spences '11 likely wear her sprigged, and I'd not
wish to have you look as if you dressed alike, or
was any way connected, and the families not speak-
ing as they do."
"Yes, indeed, mother," responded Nancy, with
a little toss of her head, I'd be sorry at that too.
Nancy Spence is always getting things like mine.
I wish she would n't. It's just as if she did it
a-purpose."
Not that I wish to say aught against the lass,"
went on Mrs. Sarkie. She's well enough, and
so was her mother afore her; a good-natured lass
her mother was at school, years back. Nobody
denies that. But after the way Farmer Spence has
behaved and all, no one would wish to liken you
together in any sort; it is n't natural, and I 'm
sure your father would n't want it."
On the farther side of the village, toward the
east, in another big, substantial red-brick farm-
house, set about with thick orchards and waving
fields of grain, Mrs. Spence was fastening her
Nancy's frock, blue also.
The pink sprig is the freshest," she said, "but
it's just like that one of Nancy Sarkie's, which
she'll be sure to wear, so I'd rather have you in.
this. 'T aint worth while to be imitating neighbors
that is n't neighborly-that's my opinion."
Nancy Sarkie is a cross, stuck-up thing !" said
Nancy Spence. "What do you think she said
one day at school, mother ?-that her father's folks
in London 'd have nothing to do with low people
like us Spences Ought she to have said that ?
Is n't father as good as the Sarkies ?"
Set her up, indeed !" cried Mrs. Spence, flush-
ing. "As good? I should think so. I never yet


heard tell of a Sarkie as could hold his head higher
than a Spence. Why, Nancy, your father's uncle
in Bristol, as died so rich, kept his own carriage-
carriage and horses "
Did he?" said Nancy, eagerly. I'll tell
Nancy Sarkie that next time she boasts. You
can't think how rude she is sometimes, mother.
Last picnic she gave me a great shove and most
pushed me down. What makes her act so ?"
Some of the father's blood in her, I guess,"
replied Mrs. Spence. Her mother was a good
girl enough before she wedded him. Ah! your
father could tell tales. He's had cause to know
what Sarkie is, if ever man had. But never mind
that now, Nancy; we wont rake up trouble this
day of all days in the year."
She tied Nancy's hat ribbons firmly as she spoke,
and gave her hair a last smooth.
"Good-by, mother. Oh you're putting on
your bonnet. Are you going to walk down with
me? "
To be.sure I am. I want to see you safe off."
The dock was crowded when they reached it.
Far below in the basin floated the tug, and the
sailors were placing a plank with hand-rails for the
children to pass over. Presently, a stream of little
figures began to pour across it to the deck.
"I declare," pouted Nancy Sarkie, "there's
that Spence girl in blue after all. Is n't it too bad,
mother ? "
Yes. I wish now you 'd worn the sprigs," said
Mrs. Sarkie. "But never let it matter; you can
enjoy yourself all the same if she is in blue."
No, I can't. I don't like to have her setting
herself up to dress like me," said Nancy.
Her face was quite clouded as she walked slowly
down the plank.
Ts, ts, ts clicked Mrs. Spence between her
teeth. "That Sarkie lass has on the blue frock
like yours. Well, well! If there was time, Nancy,
you should run home and change."
There is n't," replied Nancy with a little scowl.
" I don't care, mother. She can't be me, even if
we have both got on blue frocks. Nobody'll mis-
take us for each other."
With a laugh she ran down the plank. The
tug gave three screeching whistles as a signal to
belated comers. At the sound, a woman who was
walking along the shore with two boys began to
run.
"Just in time," said the captain, as she handed
the little fellows down to him.
Then the whistle sounded once more, the pad-
dles revolved, the children raised their voices in a
shrill cheer, and the boat moved away. The day
of pleasure was begun.
Seated on either side the deck, the two Nancys


1876.]


249







THE TWO GOATS.


glared gloomily across. Why did they dislike each
other so much ? I don't think either could have
told. The ill-feeling between the families had be-
gun years ago, when the girls were babies, and
nobody now recollected exactly how it began.
There was something about a bit of land and right
of way, something about a trespassing pig, some-
body had called somebody else hard names-who
or what did n't matter; it was a good thorough
quarrel, one of the sort which the ill-natured imps
delight in, and the children, as children will, threw
themselves into the warfare with a zeal surpassing
that of their elders. Pride and ill-humor are not
pleasant things to carry to a picnic, and it might
be predicted in advance that the two Nancys were
not likely to have a perfectly agreeable day.
The first trouble came soon after landing, when
Nancy Spence by mistake lifted the wrong basket.
Put that down said Nancy Sarkie, sharply..
" Miss Alicia told me to carry that. You've no
business to touch it."
Nancy Spence was a year older than the other
Nancy, and a good deal taller; but she was also
gentler and more easily cowed. She dropped the
basket quickly, and said confusedly :
I did n't know-I did n't mean to "
0 yes replied Nancy Sarkie, tauntingly-
"did n't know did n't mean to That's the way
you always go on, Nancy Spence-meddling, al-
ways :..I 1..111. Everybody knows that."
No such thing," said the larger Nancy; I
don't meddle. You 've no call to talk to me like
that."
So the dispute proceeded, Nancy Sarkie repeat-
ing that Nancy Spence was a meddler, and she
retorting that Nancy Sarkie was a spitfire.
Girls, what is the matter?" said Miss Alicia,
overhearing them. Let Nancy alone, Nancy
Sarkie. You began it, I know; you always do.
What does ail you to provoke each other always?
Come with me one of you. I shall keep you sepa-
rate if there is n't an end to this barking and biting
and '..I 1, of names." Saying which she marched
Nancy Spence away.
Nancy Sarkie was left behind. The pretty island
lay before her with its plumy trees and stretches of
yellow beach. Behind was the sea, dimpled and
shining; overhead, the blue sky and the sun ; but
she looked at none of these fair things. Her heart
was sullen and heavy; the bright did not seem
bright just then-the blue sky might as well have
been gray. She did not care for the woods and
beaches, or for the shells which she had looked
forward to gathering. We can never enjoy any-
thing unless the enjoyment is inside ourselves,
ready to come out when called ; though, when that
is the case, we enjoy almost everything. Nancy


found this true that morning. She set her basket
on the ground, and stood as in a dream, with eyes
cast down, and a dull, miserable feeling all over
her.
By and by she heard sounds of singing. Up
there at the top of the tree-covered bank, the chil-
dren, she knew, were playing games and having a
merry time together. She lifted her basket and
climbed the path. Miss Alicia was sitting under
the trees with two or three of the older girls. Some
of the big boys were lighting a fire. The other
children, linked in a great ring, were playing
' Here we go round the barberry-bush." It looked
gay and cheerful, and everybody seemed to be
finding it pleasant except poor sulky Nancy, who
was not in mood to like anything, whatever it
might be.
"Oats, Peas, Beans" succeeded to "Barberry-
bush," and "Ruth and Jacob" followed that. Did
any of you ever hear of the game of Ruth and
Jacob ?" This is the way it was played in Lanark
village : All the children made a circle with clasped
hands, except one boy and one girl, who stood in
the middle. The boy was blindfolded, the girl not.
The blindfolded boy groped about, demanding,
"Where is my Ruth?" And the girl had to
answer, "Here," but the instant she spoke she
glided away to the other side of the circle, so that
the boy, following her voice, should not find her.
As soon as the girl was caught, she put on the
bandage, and a fresh boy took his place in the
circle, of whom she demanded, "Where is my
Jacob ? The Lanark children were fond of this
game, because it gave opportunity for good hearty
romping, in which they delighted.
Nancy Sarkie joined in Ruth and Jacob," but,
for the first time, the play seemed to her dull and
tiresome. Nancy Spence, too, was out of sorts.
Miss Alicia had read her a lecture on quarreling,
and feeling as she did that she was all in the right,
and Nancy Sarkie all in the wrong, the lecture
made her very cross. Neither she nor Nancy Sarkie
spoke during the game, and when they looked at
each other it was not in a pleasant way at all.
Meantime, Miss Alicia, aided by the older girls,
was unpacking great baskets of bread and meat,
and arranging veal-pies, tartlets, sweet-cakes, and
ginger-beer bottles on four big white table-cloths
laid on the ground in the shade. All these good
things were provided by Miss Alicia, who liked to
do everything herself at her picnic, and never al-
lowed anybody else to contribute.
By the time the feast was ready, the children
were ready for it. What with Ruth and Jacob "
and the fresh sea air, they were hungry as wolves
and crowded round the tables. Such a demolish-
ing of veal-pies and devouring of bread-and-butter


250


[FEBRUARY,









I$76.] THE TWO GOATS. 251


was never seen before. It took some time to settle
who should sit here and who there, to distribute
the food and make sure that no one was left out;
but Miss Alicia was experienced in picnics, and
before long all was nicely arranged, and the fifty
little jaws were wagging in happy concert. The
meal passed off with entire success until cake-time
came. There was one loaf with pink icing, on which
all the party had fixed admiring eyes. When this
loaf was cut and distributed, it chanced that Nancy
Spence got a bit, but before it reached Nancy Sar-
kie the last morsel was gone.
"Never mind," said Miss Alicia, cutting an-
other loaf. This is the same cake exactly, only
with white sugar instead of pink. Here's a piece
for you, Nancy Sarkie."
I don't want any," replied Nancy, crossly.
It's velly good," remarked little Polly Darton,
with her mouth full. Do take some, Nancy."
No," muttered Nancy; I can get white cake
at home. I wanted some of the pink, but there
was n't enough. There was plenty for Nancy
Spence though. Miss Alicia made sure of that,
'cause she's a favorite."
Nonsense," said Miss Alicia, who caught the
words. "It's nothing of the sort. Take some
cake, Nancy; don't be foolish. You wont? You're
as obstinate as a goat, I declare. I tell you what,
Nancy Sarkie,-if you can't be pleasant and good-
humored, you'd better not come on my picnics. I
shall just leave you out next time."
The children gazed at Nancy with round eyes
full of horror when Miss Alicia said this. How
very bad she must be, they thought, to be shut out
from the picnics. Nancy herself was frightened.
She choked and strangled. A lump came into her
throat. Presently a big tear, hopping down her
nose, splashed into her plate; and vexed that the
other girls should see her crying, she jumped up
and fled down the bank and on to the beach.
It was afternoon now, and the yellow sun on the
water shone dazzling and bright. The tide was
coming in, fast but noiselessly, each wave running
a little higher on the sand than the last, tracing its
soft wet mark, and slipping back again into the lap
of the sea with a tiny splash like a baby's laugh.
Here and there lay beautiful little shells, pink and
yellow, or striped in faint lines of red and brown.
Helm Island was famous for these shells; the chil-
dren looked forward to picking them up as one of
the chief pleasures of the picnic. But Nancy
plodded past the shells and over them, and did not
stoop to lift one from the sand. On and on she
went to the very end of the beach, then over a
little rocky point to a second and longer one. The
sun lay hot on the sand, and the breeze seemed to
have died away, but still she marched forward till


the second beach also was passed. She was on the
north side of the island now. It was bolder than
the other side, with rocks and cliffs, but few trees
grew near the shore, and Nancy, who was getting
tired, saw no shady place in which to rest. At last
she spied a point of land on which grew several
pine-trees. The point jutted into the water for
quite a distance, and the sea had eaten away the
sand on either side and behind, so that at high
tide the point was a little island and quite cut off
from the shore. The tide was not more than half
high now, however; besides, one of the pine-trees
had fallen across the passage, making a narrow
bridge over which it was easy to walk.
Nancy's head was steady, and she trod the bridge
without fear, looking down at the sand five or six
feet below without turning giddy in the least. The
pine-tree shade was delightful after her hot walk.
-She sat down on the ground, which was carpeted
with fine brown needles, warm and soft. Here
the breeze blew strong and cool, the waves lapped
and rippled with a soothing sound. By and by
Nancy's head sank on her arm, she curled herself
comfortably on the pine-needles, and before she
knew it she was asleep. The wind rocked, the sea
sang its .lullaby, and both took care that she should
not waken again in a hurry.
How long she slept she did not know. She
roused suddenly and with a start, to wonder where
she was and how she came to be there. I fear the
angels who watched her slumbers were not of the
right sort, for instead of waking pleasantly she was
thoroughly out of humor. Her neck and shoulder
ached from lying on the ground, and she felt stiff.
The first thing that popped into her mind as she
roused was Miss Alicia's reproof.
It was Nancy Spence's fault," she said half
aloud. She 's always doing provoking things,
and then people think it's me., Miss Alicia does
have favorites, and I shall just tell mother what
she said to me. Mother'll be real vexed, I know
she will. Mother '11 take my part against the
Spences."
These amiable reflections were interrupted by
the sight of a figure on the beach, so far away as
to seem like a mere dot against the sand. As it
drew near it grew larger. Nancy made out, first
that it was a girl, next that the girl was picking up
shells (for the figure stooped and rose, and stooped
again as it walked), then that the girl had on a
blue dress, and lastly (her eyes dilated as she
looked), that it was the girl she disliked most!
Nancy Spence, the rival Nancy, was coming along
the shore!
The moment she made this discovery, Nancy
Sarkie slipped behind a pine-tree and hid herself.
From this covert she watched the approaching foe.


1876.1


THE TWO GOATS.


251







THE TWO GOATS.


Nancy Spence drew nearer. She had a basket on
her arm, in which she placed the shells as fast as
she picked them up. As she walked she hummed
a tune. This somehow struck the hidden Nancy
as a wrong and insult to herself. Why should
Nancy Spence be having such a good time when
she had not ? It seemed too much to bear !
Before long, Nancy spied the piny islet and the
fallen tree. She was as much delighted as the
other Nancy had been earlier in the afternoon.
What a pretty little island," she said out loud,
"with a bridge and all! I mean to call it mine.
Nobody has found it out but me, because nobody
else has come so far along the beach."
She set her foot on the pine-trunk to cross over.
The water was curling below now. It was not
deep, but it seemed so, and gurgled and splashed
in a noisy and suggestive manner. Nancy looked
down a second, hesitating. When she raised her
eyes she gave a great jump, for there, at the other
end of the bridge, stood Nancy Sarkie, flushed
and wrathful.
"Go back!" she cried. "How dare you call
this your island? It's mine. I found it first, and
you sha' n't come on it at all."
"Yes, I will," said Nancy, flushing up also.
I 've just as much right as you have. I found it
too, and I did n't know you were here at all. I 'm
just as good as you are, Nancy Sarkie."
"No, you're not. My father said once that
your father was a boor. I heard him. And my
uncle in London lives in a big house, with beau-tiful
things all over it; and he'd not have anything to
do with such people as you Spences are. So there
now "
My father's uncle kept a carriage and the most
splendid horses as was ever seen. He was a great
deal better than your uncle is. And my father's
not a boor. He 's good old stock, father is; there
is n't any Sarkie can hold a candle to us Spences.
I've heard people say so. So there now, Nancy
Sarkie "
Anyhow, you sha' n't come on my island. I
wont let you."
You wont let me You, indeed! I tell you I
will come."
Both girls ran forward. They met in the middle
of the bridge. Go back !" "I wont! There
was a push-a struggle. Nancy Spence's foot
slipped. She recovered herself. It slipped again.
She staggered-fell-dragging Nancy Sarkie with
her, and the foolish children rolled together off the
log and into the sea !
The shock and the wetting cooled their anger
and brought them to their senses. The water
where they fell was about two feet deep, and they
scrambled out without much difficulty; but both


were thoroughly soaked, both felt cold and miser-
able, and both began to cry.
It's all your fault," spluttered Nancy Sarkie,
spitting out a mouthful of salt water.
That is n't true; you pushed me, or we
should n't either of us have fallen," sobbed Nancy
Spence.
"Ow! ow! I 'm all wet and nasty, and so
freezing cold," blubbered the lesser Nancy. I
did n't push you-you pushed me."
0 dear, my frock!" sighed Nancy Spence,
deplorably, trying to wring it out. Why don't
you squeeze your clothes, Nancy Sarkie, and get
out all the water you can? You'll take a cold
else."
I don't know how," said Nancy Sarkie, touch-
ing the wet gown helplessly with the points of her
fingers. If I do take cold it'll be all your fault.
I shall tell Miss Alicia so."
Nancy Spence was on the point of offering to
help wring the wet dress, but at this speech she
forbore.
I shall tell Miss Alicia, too," she said, shutting
her lips tight together.
Then she seized her basket, out of which all the
shells were fallen, and began to walk away. Nancy
Sarkie, dripping like a fountain, followed.
What a long, dismal walk that was It seemed
twice as far as it had seemed in the morning. The
girls' clothes felt heavy, their shoes stuck to the
sand and dragged them down. The sun was hot
still, and though the exercise gradually warmed
their chilly limbs, it was all hard work, and only
pride prevented either Nancy from flinging herself
down and declaring that she could go no farther
and must rest. Side by side they toiled over the'
point of rocks which shut off the second beach,
and from which they looked to see the tug, and
the children playing on the sand. They reached
the top and stood aghast. No tug was there / It
had gone from the shore, and presently, far off at
sea they spied a tiny curl of rising smoke. Then
they knew all,-Miss Alicia had forgotten them, or
miscounted, and had sailed, leaving them behind.
They were alone upon the island-all alone !
What should they do ?
Nancy Sarkie flung herself down on the ground
in a paroxysm of despair. The other Nancy stood
upright and looked about her. A tear rolled down
her face. She wiped it away with the back of her
hand. For a time no sound was heard but the
lapping of the water and the muffled sobs of Nancy
Sarkie. At last, Nancy Spence glanced down at
the wretched little crumpled heap beside her, and
trying to make her voice sound brave, said :
There's no use crying. Don't lie there, Nancy.
You '11 catch an awful cold. Let us run on and see


252


[FEBRUARY,









1876.] TilE TWO GOATS. 253


if the fire the boys lit has gone out. If it has n't,
we can dry ourselves." ,
Oh, mother, mother! We shall die-I know
we shall die moaned Nancy Sarkie, who, for all
her perversity and fierce speeches, was helpless as
a baby the moment trouble came. Nancy Spence
was of more courageous stuff.
Oh, no," she said, we sha' n't die. They '11
find out as soon as they land that we're left behind,
and send somebody for us. Come, Nancy-come
with me ana see about the fire."
Nancy Sarkie suffered herself to be coaxed from
her crouching position at last, and they went on
down the beach. The boys had pulled apart the
brands the last thing before they sailed, but the
fire smoldered still. Judiciously fanned and fed
with dry twigs, it soon flamed up brightly. Search-
ing for fuel, the girls lighted on other treasures-a
hard egg, a piece of thick bread and butter, and a
scrap of cake, to which still clung a fragment of
rosy icing.
That's the pink cake I did n't have any of,"
said Nancy Sarkie.
"Well, you shall have all of this; I don't want
any," replied Nancy Spence, good-naturedly.
She felt sorry for the other Nancy, and did not
find it hard to speak pleasantly now.
What's that dark thing under the bush ?" she
cried. "Oh, Nancy, Nancy! is n't this good?
Here's that old blanket that Miss Alicia had round
the hamper. They've forgotten and left it behind.
Now we shall hardly be cold a bit."
Their dresses were more than half dry by this
time, which was fortunate, for the sun was setting
and the evening growing chill. Side by side the
two cuddled under the blanket close to the fire. It
was not very warm, it must be confessed, for while
the heat scorched their faces, their backs were al-
ways conscious of a creeping chill. Desert islands,
I rather think, are not comfortable places except
now and then in a story-book. The girls lay with-
out speaking for a long time; then Nancy Spence
heard a tiny sob close to her ear, which made her
turn over in surprise.
Why, what's the matter, dear?" cried she,
forgetting all cause of quarrel, and speaking as
kindly as if Nancy Sarkie had been any other girl.
Oh, it's so miserable I keep thinking about
wolves and robbers, and wishing my mother were
here."
The wretched, tearful face rolled over on to
Nancy's shoulder. Nancy put her arms out to the
sobbing child, and the other Nancy clung tight.
"Don't cry-don't," said Nancy Spence, sooth-
ingly. There are n't any wolves or robbers on
Helm Island, I'm sure; and we 'll see our mothers
again to-morrow. Don't cry."


How kind you are !" said the little Nancy,
wondering. I did n't know you ever could be so
good. I used to be real hateful to you, Nancy.
But I 'm sorry now."
I was hateful, too, and I 'm sorry."
S"I'll not be so any more," murmured Nancy
Sarkie. I like you now, ever so much. But
you '11 never like me, because I acted so."
0 yes, I will. I like you a great deal better
already. I like you very much indeed."
The two Nancys kissed one another.
I'm getting sleepy," whispered Nancy Sarkie.
Meanwhile, on the dock at Lanark, six miles
away, a heart-rending scene was taking place. No
sooner had Miss Alicia landed and marshalled her
flock than she discovered that two were missing.
Mrs. Sarkie and Mrs. Spence were in great dis-
tress, but scarcely greater than poor Miss Alicia,
who tearfully protested that she could n't think
how it happened, such a thing never did before.
Farmer Spence and Farmer Sarkie hurried to and
fro, questioning, consulting, discussing; the smaller
children cried, and all the town was in a ferment.
It was finally decided that a sail-boat should at
once set out for Helm Island.
I shall go, of course," said Mr. Sarkie.
"And I shall go," asserted Mr. Spence.
He spoke like one who expects contradiction;
but no one disputed him, and the boat pushed out,
the two fathers seated side by side in the stern.
The wind was a fair one and blew them. swiftly
along.
What could keep the lasses from starting with
the rest ? said Mr. Sarkie.
He was too anxious to observe the fact that he
had included his enemy's daughter with his own
under the general term of the lasses."
God send we find 'em safe," groaned Farmer
Spence.
The sail seemed a long one to the anxious men,
but was in fact short, for they reached Helm Island
in less than two hours. No sooner had the keel of
the boat grazed the sand than the two fathers
sprang out and hurried up the beach.
We '11 search this side before we try the other,"
said Farmer Spence. The cliffs are all over that
way. There are none here."
What's that ?" cried Farmer Sarkie.
It was the glimmer of the fire which had caught
his eye. They hurried forward. There, close to
the rt.:k.: ,rg embers, was a dark heap, which
rustled and stirred. Farmer Spence stooped and
lifted a corner of the blanket. There lay the two
children, clasped tight in each other's arms, and
fast asleep.
Merciful Lord Here they are he said,
huskily.


1876.1


THE TWO GOATS.


253







HOW TO MAKE AND STOCK AN AQUARIUM.


The sound roused the Nancys. They moved-
started-sat up.
"Oh, oh what is it? Who are you? Father!
It's my father, Nancy "
"And mine, too !" And the Nancys, lifted
each into the arms of her own special parent, kissed
and clung and cried.
"Oh, it's been dreadful," sobbed Nancy Sarkie,
" but Nancy Spence was so brave-a great deal
braver than me, father. She wrapped me up and
dried my clothes, and was so kind."
"We 're going to be friends now, father," broke
in Nancy Spence. "I never knew what a nice
girl Nancy Sarkie was before. We may be friends,
may n't we ? You don't mind, do you, father ?"
And she and Nancy Sarkie took hold of each
other's hands.


The two farmers regarded each other by the
light of the moon. Farmer Sarkie cleared his
throat once or twice. Then:
"Neighbor," he said, "we've been at logger-
heads now these twelve years or more. I wont say
who was right in the matter, or who was wrong,
but only this: If you're so minded, we'll strike
hands here and end the matter. These girls of
ours set us an example."
"You're in the right of it, neighbor," replied
Farmer Spence. "There's my hand, and it sha'n't
be my fault if we fall out again."
The Nancys hugged each other.
So ended the famous Spence and Sarkie quarrel,
and, in spite of fright and wetting, four light
hearts sailed back across the dark sea that night
to Lanark village.


HOW TO MAKE AND STOCK AN AQUARIUM.

BY ADELAIDE F. SAMUELS.


ing the boys and girls who read
ST. NICHOLAS-know what an
aquarium is, and many of you
S 'J .' have, no doubt, wished to own
-. p one; but the tanks made of
French plate-glass and iron, for
Sale in the shops, are so expensive,
S that few can afford to buy them;
S for those who cannot, I will tell
t T"' how we-that is my nephew Frank
and myself-made ours for less
S than two dollars; and it answers
,' every purpose.
Of course you must wait until
spring before you can stock an
aquarium, but it should be made
in the winter; and it is also well to learn now what
to do when spring comes.
First, we took a piece of planed pine board, two
feet two inches long, and one foot two inches wide,
for the bottom of the tank; this was just about
an inch thick. Then four pieces of hard wood or
pine, one foot in length each, and about an inch
square. These corner posts now had to be grooved
so as to admit the glass at right angles. The posts
were then fitted into a shallow place at the angles
formed by a groove which we had made in the


bottom board, and a screw driven into each
through from the under side. The frame was now
ready for the glass, the posts being set so as to
leave about an inch of the bottom board projecting
all around.
We then bought our glass, the side pieces meas-
uring two feet long and a foot wide, the end pieces
a foot square. We had the grooves in the corner
sticks wide enough for the glass to slip in easily;
it might have broken while we were trying to get
it in, had we not taken that precaution. Then we
nailed a slat of wood, an inch wide, all around
the board on the outside of the glass. For the
top, we made four grooved sticks to bind the glass,
and secured them to the corner pieces; but as the
corner pieces and glass sides were of the same
height, we were careful to have the grooved part
of the top pieces deeper than where they were
secured at the corners.
Carpenters use a kind of cement that they call
"rubber cement." For a few cents, we bought
enough to cover the bottom and the corners of our
tank neatly. Then all around the bottom, on the
wood outside the glass, we arranged shells in
putty; then, having painted black the wood-work
yet visible, our tank was done. We knew better
than to use white-lead in the putty, or paint of any
kind on the inside.


254


[FEBRUARY,








HOW TO MAKE AND STOCK AN AQUARIUM.


By the time we had finished the tank, it was too
late to think of stocking it; so we put it away till
spring should come; then we were delighted to find
that the cement had dried as hard as marble,
though had we examined it months before we
should have found it just as hard. This cement
requires only a short time for drying.
We washed the tank out nicely, and made a
place for it on a window-seat, where we could open
the window back of it, to keep the water cool; for
the cooler the water in an aquarium is kept, the
better. In hot weather, it is sometimes necessary
to place ice around the tank, or put a few pieces in
the water.
STOCKING AN AQUARIUM.
Stocking an aquarium is a great deal pleasanter
than making the tank. Having procured a long-
handled net, a tin pail, a long, stout fishing-line,
with several large hooks firmly secured at one
end, and something that will hold water enough to
fill your tank, you set out for specimens. Ours is
a salt-water aquarium; and as I am drawing only
from our personal experience, I will say nothing of
any other kind.
First seek some place where you know the water
is very deep, or deep enough for a large vessel to
sail in; then take out your line, and throw it over-
board; let the hooks go as far down as they will;
never mind baiting them; what you want to catch
will come up without it.
Your hooks have caught in something: a hard
pull, and up comes a sponge. Sponges soon die
in aquariums, and are injurious to the water; so,
although your prize is handsome and curious, you
will throw it overboard.
What have you caught this time ? Nothing but
a bunch of mussels, all matted together; yes, and
half an old clam-shell attached to them; on the
shell is something as large as a hen's egg, that
looks like a piece of shrunken leather, only it is
soft, like jelly. It does not look like a flower now,
but it is one. Wait till you see it in your aqua-
rium, after it has had a little time to recover from
its alarm i It is an animated flower, called the
sea-anemone. You will take great pleasure in
feeding it, as it will eat meat as fast as you will, in
comparison to its size. Put it, just as it is, into your
pail, then throw out your line again; for you must
have some more of them, of different colors.
Up come two on one shell! That is capital!
Now you have a dark-red one, a yellow one, and a
delicate pink-and-white one. Those will be all the
anemones you will want.
There is something attached to the little stone
that came up with the last anemone. It looks like
a diminutive bush, with very delicate creamy pink


branches, and on the end of each is a dark pink,
jelly-like knob,-that is another live animal; and
as it is a small one of its kind, you can put it,
stone and all, into the pail. Never mind if you
have knocked off two or three of its heads; they
will grow again.
Now we will go to yonder creek, and see what
we can get with our net. Scoop it along the bank,
and let some mud come, too. Now, what is in it?
Some shrimp, and some little fishes. You will
want a dozen shrimp, at least; and of the fishes-
small minnows, and sticklebacks-choose three or
four of each. Now, from the salt grass at your
feet, pick a dozen or more snails: they are not
very handsome, or interesting, but are indispensa-
ble in an aquarium, as they keep the glass clean,
and eat all the decaying vegetable matter.
Now a few plants, to supply oxygen to the
water, will be all that is necessary. Choose two or
three stones as large as hens' eggs, with a generous
crop of green sea-weed upon them. The brown
and red sea-weeds usually do more harm than
good; but that little stone of brown- rock-weed
you can take, as I see a pink bunch upon it, which
I will tell you all about, when you get it in your
aquarium.
There is a small stone full of barnacles; take
that, too; for the barnacles are very interesting-
to the sticklebacks. Now you can start for home
with your collection.
Your tank is all ready, in the north window of
the sitting-room, where the sun never comes.
Arrange your plants in it carefully, without de-
taching them from the stones they are on; then
place the anemones in front, where they will have
room to expand, and where they can be seen
easily; then put in the fishes, shrimps, snails,
etc., and fill up the tank with the clear, pure salt
water you brought.
Now look at the animated bush, attached to the
stone Every one of the jelly-like knobs, at the
extremity of every branchlet, has expanded, and
you have no less than twenty beautiful flowers,
resembling the cyclamen, with pearly white petals,
and centers deeper-colored than peach-blossoms;
only the petals in this case are called tentacles,
and are thrown out to catch whatever comes in
their way in the shape of food.
The little pink bunch attached to the sea-weed
has opened, also, and you see what resembles a
dozen, or more, star-like flowers, on stems a quar-
ter of an inch long: every one of them is a sep-
arate animal, as that foolish shrimp just proved to
you; for, as he was swimming lazily by, he allowed
his fan-like tail to come within their reach, and
these zoophytes immediately closed around it; but
the shrimp was fortunate enough to get away.


X876.]


255







HOW TO MAKE AND STOCK AN AQUARIUM.


Wait a minute, till I tell you what that big word
means Zoophytes means "animal plants" (from
two.Greek words: zoon, an animal, and fpkuton, a
plant), and is applied to sponges, corals, sea-
anemones, and all those numerous beings that
were at first supposed to hold a middle position
between the animal and vegetable kingdoms, but
whose natures have since been ascertained to be
strictly animal.
Now look at your anemones 1 The yellow one
has spread out like a great sun-flower, on a stem
as large around as a tea-cup, and three inches long.
That stem is its body. The flat bottom of the
stem has to answer for feet, and it will soon walk
out of the shell it is on, if it becomes dissatisfied
with its new dwelling-place. One of ours became
discontented, and was two days walking over the
glass. At last he attached himself to the cemented
bottom of the tank, where he now appears to be
perfectly contented. They move by suction, after
the manner of snails.
Every one of their numerous tentacles has power
to sting and paralyze whatever small prey comes
within its reach, so they are able to catch and
devour fish nearly as large as themselves. The
little fishes in our aquarium seem to know all
about them, and it is seldom one will 'approach
them; but yesterday, as I was trying to remove
with a small stick a piece of meat that I had drop-
ped on an anemone, a minim, that had been
watching me, offered to assist me, and approached
the anemone near enough to touch one of its ten-
tacles; then away it darted, shaking its head.
I had the curiosity to insert my finger in among
the tentacles, and immediately experienced a sen-
sation in it like a slight galvanic shock, and from
my finger to my wrist was quite numb for several
hours afterward.
You did not know how barnacles worked before,
did you? Each one of them is now throwing out
a full dozen of delicately constructed feelers, that
look like diminutive ostrich plumes; on these they
catch their food, which is too small to be seen by
the naked eye. It is amusing to watch them as
they work. One would imagine they had clocks
inside their shells to time themselves by, so regular
are their movements.
Here is a stickleback admiring them, too. It is
poised motionless in the water above them, with
the three sharp horns upoh its back sticking up
threateningly; now he darts down, and, taking all
of one barnacle's feelers in his mouth, he bites
them off, shaking his head savagely, because they
do not come easily.
What is the shrimp about to do that is climbing
up the stone, running the risk of getting his deli-
cate feet caught in the barnacle-shells as they


close ? He pauses before the barnacle the stickle-
back has just left, and, thrusting his two-fingered
hand into the partly opened shell, pulls off a piece
of the poor body, and conveys it to his mouth,
watching you all the while with his great goggle
eyes, and looking for all the world like "Jacky
Horner," who put in his thumb and pulled out a
plum." You may be sure he will not leave that
shell till it is as clean inside as it is out.
A pair of our sticklebacks have just built a nest
of sea-weed in one corner of our aquarium, and
are guarding it all the time. Woe to the minnow
who should be so unfortunate as to approach it!
We are watching every day for the little fish to
make their appearance. Papa Stickleback attends
to the nest now, but soon the old mother-fish will
have all she can do to keep her children at home
and out of danger; for, as there are two doors to
her nest, they will dart out of one door nearly as
fast as she can put them in at the other. Her way
of carrying them cannot be agreeable to the little
ones. for she takes them in her mouth, and often
swallows them; but when she re-deposits them in
the nest, they are well, and lively.
You will want to feed your anemones every day,
with small. pieces of dried meat. You will be
astonished to see how many different shapes they
will take ; for, besides looking like different flow-
ers, they will at times contract their bodies and
resemble vases full of flowers; then they will droop
their tentacles, and resemble the weeping willow-
tree; then they will turn all their tentacles inside
their bodies, and look like long thimbles; and
when you touch them with a stick, down they will
drop as flat as fried eggs.
Your greatest trouble will be to keep the water
pure, unless you should be so fortunate as to just
balance the vegetable and animal life; in that
case, everything will thrive.
It is better to have a few good healthy animals
than many; and if one dies, it should be removed
at once.
The green dulce, or sea-cabbage, is the best for
the vegetable element of the aquarium; and it
should be washed before being placed within. A
good way to send air into the tank is to dip up the
water carefully, and let it fall in such a manner
as to make bubbles.
Those who live near the salt water can easily
renew the water in their aquariums, if it becomes
impure; but those who live at a distance from the
coast can restore the water to its original purity by
filtering it through a sponge. The trouble will be
nothing in comparison to the joy you will experi-
ence on beholding the gratitude expressed by the
animated beings in your aquarium.
As there has been so much done lately in the


256


[FEBRUARY,







THE LITTLE MERMAID.


business of making aquariums, it is quite possible
to purchase cheap iron ones; and better still, we
often see second-hand ones of all sizes for sale very
cheap. In the city, the bird-dealers and Old
Curiosity men have them, and in nearly all large
towns there are naturalists and taxidermists who
either have them, or will kindly give all informa-
tion about them. So if our home-made aquarium
is not just what our readers care to have, they can
with very little cost secure a better. We have
seen aquaria made very strongly and durably of
stone and iron. A flat piece of slate or free-
stone, or marble, is easily grooved, and then a
blacksmith can easily make iron standards or


corner posts with grooves ; these can be fitted
into holes at the corners, and secured firmly by
screws from beneath. We think that it is better
to have the tank of stone or iron, if practicable, as
the wood almost always swells to such an extent
that it soon becomes troublesome.
A very pleasant aquarium, and a very handsome
one, is soon made by taking one of the large cake-
bells of the confectioner, and setting it on a
wooden stand to support it. You can easily do it
by boring a hole in a stout piece of pine to admit
the handle. You have then a beautiful tank, and
one that will not leak. This is also very easily
cleaned, which is an important point.


THE LITTLE MERMAID.


BY CARRIE W. THOMPSON.


NICE little mermaid lived under the sea,
And always a-combing her hair was she.

She did it high up, and she did it low down,
She twisted it in with a sea-shell crown;

She braided and curled it for hours and hours,
And spangled it over with coral flowers.

But once she grew tired of combing her hair,
And fell to wondering what was where.

She climbed on a rock to talk with the gales,
And made great eyes at the sharks and whales.

Some white-winged gulls flew over her head;
Now where can those things live?" she said.

She wondered and wondered, but could n't guess where,
For she thought the whole world was water and air.

"And so many great ships sail over the sea;
Where they are going is what puzzles me !

"They will get to the edge of the sea some day,
And tumble off in a terrible way.

"There'll be nowhere to catch them, I 'm afraid-
So they'll tumble forever!" said the little mermaid.


V'OL. II.-18, .


ii


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1876.J


257


_.. ,,







258 WHO BEGAN IT? [FEBRUARY,


WHO BEGAN IT?

BY OLIVE THORNE.


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HERE'S one thingwe
know positively, that
St. Valentine did n't
begin this fourteenth
of February excite-
ment; but who did
is a question not so
easy to answer. I
don't think any one
would have begun
it if he could have
known what the
simple customs of
his day would have
grown into, or could
even have imagined
the frightful valen-
tines that disgrace
our shops to-day.
It began, for us,
with our English an-
cestors, who used to
assemble on the eve
of St. Valentine's
day, put the names


of all the young maidens promiscuously in a box,
and let each bachelor draw one out. The damsel
whose name fell to his lot became his valentine for
the year. He wore her name in his bosom, or on
his sleeve, and it was his duty to attend her and
protect her. As late as the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries this custom was very popular, even among
the upper classes.
But the wiseacres have traced the custom farther
back. Some of them think it was begun by the
ancient Romans, who had on the fourteenth or
fifteenth of February a festival in honor of Luper-
cus, "the destroyer of wolves "-a wolf-destroyer
being quite worthy of honor in those wild days, let
me tell you. At this festival it was the custom,
among other curious things, to pair off the young
men and maidens in the same chance way, and
with the same result of a year's attentions.
SEven this is not wholly satisfactory. Who began
it among the Romans ? becomes the next interest-
ing question. One old writer says it was brought
to Rome from Arcadia sixty years before the Trojan
war (which Homer wrote about, you know). I'm
sure that's far enough back to satisfy anybody.
The same writer also says that the Pope tried to
abolish it in the fifth century, but he succeeded


only in sending it down to us in the name of St.
Valentine instead of Lupercus.
Our own ancestry in England and Scotland have
observed some very funny customs within the last
three centuries. At one time valentines were fash-
ionable among the nobility, and, while still selected
by lot, it became the duty of a gentleman to give
to the lady who fell to his lot a handsome present.
Pieces of jewelry costing thousands of dollars were
not unusual, though smaller things, as gloves, were
more common.
A gossippy old gentleman named Pepys, whose
private diary has come to afford great interest and
amusement to our times, tells how he sent his wife
silk stockings and garters for her valentine. And
one year, he says, his own wife chanced to be his
valentine, and grumbles that it will cost him five
pounds.
There was a tradition among the country people
that every bird chose its mate on Valentine's day;
and at one time it was the custom for young folks
to go out before daylight on that morning and try
to catch an owl and two sparrows in a net. If they
succeeded, it was a good omen, and entitled them
to gifts from the villagers. Another fashion among
them was to write the valentine, tie it to an apple
or orange, and steal up to the house of the chosen
one in the evening, open the door quietly, and
throw it in.
The drollest valentine I ever heard of belongs to
those old times in England, and consisted of the
rib of a small animal wrapped in white satin ribbon,
which was tied in true lover's knots in several
places. This elegant and suggestive gift was sent
to a bachelor, and accompanied with verses:
Go contemplate this lovely sign !
Haste thee away to Reason's shrine,
And listen to her voice;
No more illusive shades pursue,
To happiness this gives the clue,
Make but a prudent choice."

So far, it is uncertain whether or not the lines refer
to the pleasures of eating, suggested (to modern
minds) by a rib. But they go on to explain:

"Till Adam had a partner given,
Much as fair Eden bloomed like heaven,
His bliss was incomplete;
No social friend these joys to share,
Gave the gay scene a vacant air;
She came-'twas all replete!"

which leaves nothing to be desired, I 'm sure.


258


WHO BEGAN IT?


[FEBRUARY,


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1876.] WHO BEGAN IT? 259


Those were the days of charms, and of course
the rural maidens had a sure and infallible charm
foretelling the future husband. On the eve of St.
Valentine's day, the anxious damsel prepared for
sleep by pinning to her pillow five bay leaves, one
at each corner and one in the middle (which must
have been delightful to sleep on, by the way). If
she dreamed of her sweetheart, she was sure to
marry him before the end of the year.
But to make it a "dead sure" thing, the candi-
date for matrimony must boil an egg hard, take
out the yolk, and fill its place with salt. Just before
going to bed, she must eat egg, salt, shell and all,
and neither speak nor drink after it. If that


To be sure, a dreamy artist may have designed
it, but a lithographer, with inky fingers, printed
the picture part of it; a die-cutter, with sleeves
rolled up, made a pattern in steel of the lace-work
on the edge; and a dingy-looking pressman, with a
paper hat on, stamped the pattern around the
picture. Another hard-handed workman rubbed
the back of the stamped lace with sand-paper till
it came in holes and looked like lace, and not
merely like stamped paper; and a row of girls at
a common long table-talking about their own
narrow lives, the hard times, and so forth-put on
the colors with stencils, gummed on the hearts and
darts and cupids and flowers and mirrors and doors


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ST. VALENTINE'S LETTER-CARRIERS.


would n't insure her a vivid dream, there surely
could be no virtue in charms.
Modern valentines, aside from the valuable pres-
ents often contained in them, are very pretty things,
and they are growing prettier every year, since
large business houses spare neither skill nor money
in getting them up. The most interesting thing
about them, to "grown-ups," is the way they are
made; and perhaps even you youngsters, who
watch eagerly for the postman, "sinking beneath
the load of delicate embarrassments not his own,"
would like to know how satin and lace and flowers
and other dainty things grew into a valentine.
It was no fairy's handiwork. It went through the
hands of grimy-looking workmen and dowdy-look-
ing girls; it made familiar acquaintance with sand-
paper and glue-pots, and steel stamps and inky
presses, and paint-brushes and all sorts of unpleas-
ant things, before it reached your hands.


and curtains, and stuck in the sachet-powder and
tied up the bows, and sewed on the fringes, and
tucked in the handkerchief or other gift, and other-
wise finished the thing exactly like the pattern
before them.
You see, the sentiment about a valentine does n't
begin yet. To all these workmen it is merely their
daily work, and to them means only bread-and-
butter and a home. It is not until Tom, Dick, or
Harry takes it from the stationer, and writes your
name on it, that it acquires, in some mysterious
way, the sentiment that makes it such a nice thing
to get.
The hideous abomination called a "comic valen-
tine," which is merely a cruel or a low-minded
insult to the receiver, is beneath the notice of any
gentleman, whether he's five or fifty years old,
and I'm sure no ST. NICHOLAS boy cares to know
just how it is made.


')


r876.]


WHO BEGAN IT? "


259


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JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


I j A K-IN- i-L- U L 1 r.


THE ice-pond by the School-house is in splendid
skating order, and it's all a-bloom with boys and
girls. Such fun as they have! Such shouting,
laughing and darting this way and that, like
birds or tulips, or what you will, blown about by
the breeze. This is all very well. The deacon says
it makes him young again to see it. For that mat-
ter, he is often in among them, skates and all-the
swiftest among the swift.
It's glorious sport," says the deacon sometimes
when he's on the way home with the youngsters,
skates in hand,-" glorious sport But there's
one thing I never do, and I advise you against it
too-that is, to kneel upon the ice. It seems a
natural thing to do, just for a minute, when you
wish to tighten your straps; but don't you try it.
It's dangerous. It may lame you for life, and it is
pretty sure to give you cold or injure you in one
way or another."
He says more, but they walk by so fast that Jack
cannot catch the rest.

A CHANCE FOR THE CHICKS.
TWELVE PRIZES !
Southport, Conn.
DEAR JAC., i, .. I 1 over thestorywhich
your pretty, .... I i... .. ... i ctober ST. NICHOLAs,
and I now send you another, which I have written in the same style.
May be you will show it to your boys and girls. Every word in it is
correctly spelled, only, like the little schoolma'am, I have in most
instances given the wrong word.-Yours, with respect, M. E. A.
A SuoRT TAIL.
Won dey last weak, eye set fourth to Rome oar the planes and
threw the veils. The Skye was fare and blew, and the lo son through
his pail raise ore the seen. Dear, yews, and hairs were gambling on
won sighed, while on my write rows long strait rose of maze, ate feat
hie or sew, and as fresh as reins and dues could make them.
"Owe," said eye, razing one of the suite colonels to my knows,
"surely this plant has know pier among the serials Sea the rich
hew of its waiving lief-its flour like a lock of silken hare-its golden
cede, in rose ofcolonels, which, maid into flower and then into doe or
bred, charm hour pallets. It feeds knot man alone, but the foul of the
heir and fish of the seize."
I might have continued in this stile an our, but I saw the son had


set and the knight was coming fast, and it began to reign. My weigh
lay threw a loan would of furs, ewes, and beaches. The clouds rows
i,;._ r1- T1::-.... i. .. and the thunder peeled allowed, till my
SI: I i. Eye flue on my coarse, though my feat
hardly could bare my wait, till my tow was caught buy a decade limn,
and I was throne down, striking my heal on a roc, which was the
caws of a grate pane. I had no cents left. I herd something in my
head like the wringing of a Nell, or like the thrill of the heir after a
belle is told. It took sum thyme two clime back too the rode, butt
then the reign was dun, and the stnrs shown fourth. I gnu the weigh,
and soon reached home. My ant was at the gait, weighting, and she
hide too meat me. She led me inn, took off my wet raps, gave me
hot tease, and eh supper of fried souls, with knew wry bred, so suite
that it kneaded know preys. I soon retired to my palate, glad two
lye down in piece and wrest.
Good news, my chicks! This time the little
schoolma'am wishes me to say that she offers twelve
prizes for the best twelve corrected stories" sent
in by girls and boys of thirteen years of age and
under, before March 12th. Address "Little School-
ma'am, in care of ST. NICHOLAS, 743 Broadway,
New York," and give your full name and your age.
By corrected story, the little schoolma'am means,
you will understand, this short tail," all written
out properly, giving the right words in place of the
wrong ones, and not changing the sound. She
says accuracy, neatness, good penmanship, and
promptness all shall be taken into account." To
each of the twelve prize-winners shall be sent two
very large envelopes containing twelve beautiful
colored pictures, with twelve stories by Aunt Fanny,
author of Night-cap Stories."
Hurrah There's fun for you, my youngsters !

FLOWERS IN NEW COLORS.
WELL, well! What will your Jack hear next?
The birds tell him that a Professor Gobba has suc-
ceeded in changing the colors of cut flowers to suit
his own fancy. Rather an unnecessary piece of
work, one would say, since flowers generally choose
their own colors pretty wisely. Still you may like
to hear about it:
The Professor simply pours a small quantity of
common aqua ammonia into a dish. Over this he
places a funnel (big end down), in the tube of which
are inserted the flowers he wishes to change.
What happens then ?
Ah, my chicks, that's just what your Jack wishes
to know Wonderful changes take place, I am
told. The first time you have a flower to spare,
just buy ten cents' worth of aqua ammonia at the
nearest druggist's, try Professor Gobba's experi-
ment, and report to Jack.

WHICH IS IT?
SOMEBODY has sent me
This bright little picture.
.,- What is it, my dears?
Is it a fox or a wolf? and
S what is the difference be-
/ tween foxes and wolves-
.. j- in their looks, their habits
-. and dispositions?
--- Would n't it be fine if
one of you were to answer
these questions well enough not only to satisfy your
Jack, but to make something worth going into the
deacon's "Young Contributors' Department?"


260


[FEBRUARY,


,'







JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


AN ANCIENT PRESENT.
A VERY learned man came once to one of the
dear little schoolma'am's picnics, and what do you
think he said in the course of conversation ?
I give his remark entire.
"'We all know," said he, raising his eyebrows,
"that rivers in time will carry land from one place
and deposit it in another. Perhaps the best illus-
tration of this fact is lower Egypt, which Herodotus
said the Egyptian priests considered to be a resent
from the river Nile."
The little schoolmistress was busily dealing out
sandwiches at the time, but she nodded her head.
So I suppose the learned man was right.
CALABASH TREE.
ONE of my birds has just been telling me about
a tree that, he said, "grew dishes."
In his native islands-of the West Indies-he has
seen a tree, in height and size resembling an apple-
tree, called a calabash-tree. It has wedge-shaped
leaves, large whitish, fleshy blossoms, that grow-
where do you think ?-not like those of most other
fruits, on the smaller and outermost branches, but
on the trunk and big branches. The fruit that
succeeds the flower is much like a common gourd,
only a good deal stronger, and it often measures
twelve inches in diameter. The hard shell of this
fruit is cut into various shapes by the natives, and
is sometimes handsomely carved. It is made into
drinking-cups, dishes, pails, and even pots. Yes,
they say that these calabashes actually can be used
over the fire for boiling water, just as you would use
a pot. But the calabash pot gives out after a few
such trials, and is unfit for further service.
A FIVE-HUNDRED-DOLLAR CAT.
YES, sirs,-a five-hundred-dollar cat," said
Deacon Green yesterday to three little chaps who
were walking with him. Lately, at the Sydenham
Palace, near London, was held a Cat Show, where
over four hundred were exhibited. The prize cat
won a premium of 5--twenty-five dollars. He's a
splendid fellow, named Tommy Dodd'-nine years
old, and considered worth 10oo, or five hundred
dollars. The heaviest specimen in the show weighed
a few ounces over eighteen pounds. There's a cat
for you, young gentlemen "
ILLUSTRATING PROVERBS.
ONE day, the little schoolma'am asked the chil-
dren to select a proverb among themselves for illus-
tration. They did n't quite understand this, but,
nevertheless, they settled upon one and handed it in :
"HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES."
"Good said she. Now I should like to have
you each bring on Friday a composition or a quota-
tion, or an object of some kind, or whatever you
please, illustrating this proverb."
Well, they did so. Some, I am told, brought
little stories; others brought compositions; one
little girl brought a warm but faded shawl; and
one homely, clever little chap audaciously brought
his own photograph! One and all came off with


honors, but the crowning illustration of all was
Tom McClintock's; he simply brought a picture of
Sa camel's head, looking as if it had just been say-
ing "prunes" and "prism," and knew quite well
of its own excellent qualities. Not a word did
Tom McClintock write, beyond the proverb. He
knew his damel could speak for itself.


"HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES."

"AS MUCH ALIKE AS ANTS IN A HILL."


I DON'T know what the lady was talking about.
I merely heard the above remark as she was pass-
ing through my wood. Ha! ha! thought I to
myself, why, there is as much difference between
ants as between people I '11 tell you how I know
it: The little schoolma'am has a turn for experi-
ments, and I've seen her make one or two on this
very point. One day she picked up several ants
from one ant-hill and carried them to another ant-
hill, where there appeared to be thousands of
inhabitants all looking just like the new-comers.
But it seems the ants could see the difference, for
the unfortunate strangers were recognized as in-
truders, and were instantly set upon and killed.
Another time the little lady took some ants from
a large hill, and shut them up in a bottle with
some very ill-smelling stuff called asafoetida. The
next day she returned, bringing the bottle with
the imprisoned ants. Of course the poor things
smelled very strongly of the asafoetida, and their
nearest relations could hardly be blamed for
refusing to know them. So I felt quite frightened
for their sakes when the schoolma'am returned
them to their home. But no. Though they were
at first threatened by their fellows, they were soon
recognized and allowed to pass. "Blood" was
stronger than asafoetida.


261


1876.]






A PARLOR PLAY FOR CHILDREN.


MOTHER GOOSE PANTOMIME.-THE RATS AND THE MICE.

BY G. B. BARTLETT.


CHARACTERS AND COSTUMES.
The Bachelor. Swallow-tailed coat, checked pantaloons, red vest,
S.1. lIar, red cravat, ruffled shirt, white hat.
The Chintz skirt, white kerchief, very high cap.
The Bride. White dress, very scant, with leg-of-mutton sleeves; old-
fashioned white bonnet, gayly trimmed; parasol.
The Four Sisters. Very gay chintz dresses, of quaint style, with high
pointed hats. One sister should be very tall and one very short.
Properties : Wheelbarrow, three bandboxes, bundle, bird-cage, chair,
table, five rats and three mice (made of dark gray flannel, with
long tails, with beads for eyes), two loaves of bread, a piece of
cheese, umbrella, eye-glass, and handkerchiefs.
SCENE I.
Table, with bread and cheese, and rats and mice.
Bachelor enters, and strikes an attitude of horror.
Seizes the umbrella, creeps up to the table, and
hits a rat, which he holds up by the tail. He then
lifts a loaf and discovers a mouse ; throws down the


I\
S.


N '


bread, and with great haste sets off for London.
During this scene these words are sung by a con-
cealed singer, to the tune of Zip Coon ":
"When I was a bachelor, I lived by myself,
And all the bread and cheese I had I kept upon the shelf.
The rats and the mice they made such a strife,
I had to go to London to get me a wife."

SCENE II.
The bachelor enters and knocks on the floor with
his umbrella. The widow enters, and they bow
very low to each other. He places his hand on his
heart, and then points to the door. She smiles and
bows and goes out and leads in the shortest sister,
who looks very sentimental, with her finger up to
her mouth. He walks around her several times,
looking through his eye-glass, and motions that she
is too short; and the sister goes out very angry,
followed by the widow, who leads in the tall one,
who appears very haughty and scornful. He also
walks around her, takes a chair and tries to reach
to the top of her hat, and dismisses her as being
too tall. The. widow introduces the two others in
turn, with each of whom the bachelor finds some


fault. But when the bride is brought in, he seems
enraptured and approaches her shyly, and, taking
her hand, kneels before her, and both at last kneel
before the widow. The same verse is sung as in
Scene L, and the same tune is played slowly.
SCENE III.
All the sisters stand in a row, with the mother at
the end. The bachelor enters, wheeling the bar-
row, which he places in the middle of the room.
The bride enters. They shake hands. He points
to the barrow. She embraces each one of the sis-
ters, and, last of all, the widow, who, with a great
show of feeling, escorts her to the barrow and places
her in it, after putting on her bonnet. Each sister
runs out and returns with bandbox, bundle, or






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bird-cage, all of which are piled upon her, and the
parasol is placed in her hand, and she is wheeled
around the room and out by the bachelor, who
stops often to rest, and finds his load very heavy.
Meanwhile these lines are sung to the music:
The streets were so wide and the lanes were so narrow,
I had to bring my wife home in a wheelbarrow."
SCENE IV.
The bride sits upon the -ground, leaning upon
the barrow, which has broken down. The boxes
and bundles are scattered over the floor. The
bachelor bends over her in an attitude of comic
despair, with a red handkerchief up to his eyes.
The sisters and mother enter in the order of their
heights; each draws out in turn a handkerchief of
graduated size, the first being very small and the.
last very large, and all cry together in concert.
These lines are sung:
The wheelbarrow broke, my wife had a fall,
Down came wheelbarrow, wife and all."
In the third and fourth scenes it is necessary to.
repeat the two lines to complete the tune, and the
melody is continued upon the piano.


262


[FEBRUARY,





FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS.


VICTOR'S



VICTOR ROYL
His Uncle John


WONDERFUL ANIMALS, AND WHAT
THEY ALMOST DID.

was eight years old. He had a little dog and a kitten.
gave him the dog, and his-Aunt Jane gave him the
kitten. Now Uncle John and Aunt
Jane called them "sweet little things,"
but Victor knew more than that. He
>' saw at once that they were very bright
and very brave. He had been to a
circus show, and he knew what won-
derful things animals could do. He


jr-
ca
-- --- T
bo
the Wild Mazeppa, after a famous he
oiselle Planchette, after a pretty lady
in spangled skirts at the circus who
stood on the Wild Mazeppa's back,
and waved a flag while Mazeppa gal-
loped round the ring.
Then Victor sat down to make his
plans: Mazeppa should first learn to
gallop and leap over bars. Madem-
oiselle Planchette should learn to ride,
to stand up on Mazeppa and wave
flags, to jump through rings, to stand
on one foot on Mazeppa's back while
he was going at full speed; to spin,
fly in t
the ri
chette
S- grand
school.
N., a ticke
-. people
-- would


ade up his mind that his dog and
t should soon astonish the world.


he first thing he did was to give them
,th fine names. He named his dog
horse; and he called his cat Madem-





--T
-- -
S--- -- ."




.- -''- .-.- -)S. .





to hop, to dance-in fact, to almost
:he air after Mazeppa as he tore round
ig. Wonderful Mademoiselle Plan-
SShe and Mazeppa should give a
performance in aid of the Sunday-
Victor decided to charge five cents
t. Three thousand and twenty-seven
would come, and that, as Victor said,


make a hundred thousand million


263


\\'






26 FRVEYLITE OKS FE3UAY


dollars. Then if the Sunday-school
teacher would give him back some of
the money, he would buy another dog. ,
and a cat. Oh! what times he could -
have then! He would name the new- ~
dog Professor Macfoozelem, and the new
cat the Fairy Queen of the Wire, and all .-, .
four of his animals "could then perform.
It would take a long while, perhaps, for
him to teach them to act as wonderfully as Mazeppa and Mademoiselle
Planchette, but he knew he could do it in time. Then, when everything
Swas ready, he would give another grand
I exhibition, that should raise twenty hun-
dred thousand dollars, to buy shoes for
S every poor. little boy and girl in the world.
SHe thought, but he was not quite sure,
that he would make a speech to the spec-
S'tators on the occasion. If so, this is what
he thought he would say:

P LADIES AND GENTLEMEN:
I appear before you with my four cel-
er-berated dogs and cats. Their names is
the Wild Mazeppa and Mademoiselle Planchette, and
Professor Macfoozelem and the Fairy Queen of the
Wire. Wild Mazeppa and Planchette came first;
they are a present from my Aunt Jane and my Uncle
John. They scratched and snapped a little when they
was first getting to be wonderful, but now they don't
do it at all. They are
very glad to earn some
money for the Sunday-
''"'-. school, and Mademoiselle
.- aint afraid of tumbling off
any more, and Wild Ma-
zeppa knows she wont
A scratch his eyes. They
Splay they was tearing __
through a forest with sol-
diers, and mighty giants coming after them. The others are newer. I


264


FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS.


FEBRUARY,





1876.1 FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS. 265

taught 'em all my own self. Professor Macfoozelem is splendid. He
growls all the time he is performing. The Fairy Queen of the Wire is
the wonderfullest cat that ever lived except
---Planchette. When I get big I am going to
i take my show all over the world-to Asia and
S- Brooklyn and Albany and Atlantic Ocean and
to Scotland and Egypt and other cities.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you will sit
still and wait a minute, you'
can see the show.

This speech Victor said so
often to himself, with Aunt
Jane sitting by, that he knew
it quite by heart. He was sure all the people would
clap, and then the grand performance should begin:
First, Professor Macfoozelem would stand on his
fore paws and hold a lady on each foot-that is,
Mademoiselle Planchette and the Fairy Queen of the
Wire. Then the next thing should be this: The music
should play tumpy-tee, tumpy-te-tee," and in should
rush the Professor, galloping like a horse, with Madem-
oiselle Planchette and the Fairy Queen of the Wire
standing on his ears or doing anything they chose.
Then they'd all rush out; the music would strike up. {
again "tumpy-tee, hump-it-y, tumpy-tee-tee;" and then
Professor Macfoozelem would walk in on his hands, with
his feet high up in the air. On top of his feet would
be Mazeppa, with
kis feet up in
.... the air, and high -
on Mazeppa's feet
would stand Mademoiselle Planchette
and the Fairy Queen of the Wire,
hand in hand, smiling sweetly. This
T -would be so wonderful that all the
people would jump up and cheer and
wave their hats. Drums would beat,
trumpets would sound, and-and -- Well, the fact is, Victor could not
say exactly what would happen next, because just then his Aunt Jane told







YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS' DEPARTMENT.


[FEBRUARY,


him to give Mazeppa and Mademoiselle Planchette some supper, for the

poor little creatures seemed hungry.

Should you like to see these two wonderful animals-the Wild Mazeppa

and Mademoiselle Planchette-just as they looked when Victor Royl made

all these grand plans, for you know this story tells only what he tIought

they would do in time ? Here they are:


"" .-




-; -' --- ....

' _


THE WILD MAZEPPA.


MADEMOISELLE PLANCHETTE,


YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS' DEPARTMENT.


A SCOTCH GIRL'S IMPRESSIONS OF NEW YORK.
IT is now three months since our arrival in this country. After being
battered by storm, and detained by fog, we were well prepared when
we entered New York to appreciate fully the beauty of this magnificent
city. The approach from the sea is very grand. Entering the danger-
ous narrow between Sandy Hoo'- dn.- T- T-1-n-ria great expanse
of inland sea is reached, which ,' ..I., ... we near Staten
Island. Here, at Quarantine Bay, the view is exquisite, and all the
way up, among countless yachts and ships of all sizes-rising
S..- .. r1 ft, covered with the richest verdure; and every de-
..,. -.. ..-. residence on the sandy shores on the right. The
eve is dazzled and the imagination stirred. Our matchless Clyde,
i-. .....1 .....i r .: i .,iI. r. it impossible to leave Bonnie
ri .1" .,r 1, .. .. i f beauty we never hope to see
equaled; but the outskirts of New York rouse an admiration of a
totally different nature, which leads us to remember that The earth
is the Lord's," and that the New World, though differing in feature,
is as perfectly beautiful as the Old.
As where we landed was perhaps the oldest and least interesting
part of the city, we were not immediately prepossessed in its favor;
but when driving to our temporary. ..: ... .... ...:. T. .1
and through Union and Madison Sc,..- I I ... 1. i ii..: ... 1
crowded streets excited our highest ,r.' ..- i. -.. r[: i
is built on an island, you experience no feeling of insulation, there
are so many ferry-boats ready to take you where you will. These
steamers are not unlike the boat intended for the shallow Chinese
rivers which we saw trying its engines on the Clyde. The greater
portion of the streets are arranged with mathematical precision, the
avenues running north and south, and the streets east and west.
They are generally numbered instead of named, as every one knows,
for who has not heard of Fifth Avenue ? This use of the number is
very serviceable to strangers. The streets are equidistant, and twenty
blocks make one mile, so you can tell at once how far you have to go
by doing a small arithmetical sum. The streets are beyond any I
have ever se-n f-r re-ll-it-- The. In gth, the great height of the
houses, and i.:, ... I II.. ,.,i- --. ...; :' ,- ; ,,;. r
thiscity. ..i. , .... I i 1. l .I,
stand alon- ~., ,.._ i r I ..1i .I I ,. ,
s tr e e ts q u it.. -, ., r .- "j,-, II 1 I .11 .I- 1
makes me think that New York stands before them all. As there are
upwards of three million inhabitants in Iondon, the dwellings are so
numerous, and many of the streets so narrow, that I always think of
it as a wilderness of houses.
The churches here are magnificent, especially the inside of some
of them. There are some splendid marble buildings, such as the
private residence of Mr. Stewart, the great warehouseman, and a new


Roman Catholic cathedral, which will, I hear, rival some of the
European ones. But we miss the abbeys, cathedrals, castles, and
palaces of the old country, just as we almost cry to see the dear cling-
I-r'7v r.--_"ng out a pinched existence in a flower-pot instead of
i ,I-,. i,-: walls and hiding the rents of a crumbling ruin, or hug-
.. :- i. too close embrace a withered tree.
i i. no underground railways here as in London. There is
one that runs above the streets, but I like the London way best.
However, the system of tram-ways, or street-cars as they are called
here, is the most perfect in the world.
The Central Park is well worthy of notice, ard I can hardly say
whether it is more beautiful when the trees are glowing with their
autumnal tints, and the lakes flashing in the sunlight, as we saw it
when we first came, oras it is now, the keen air alive with the soft
tinkle of the bells of the gliding sleighs and the ponds covered with
graceful skaters.
The people have a frank, pleasant manner, which I like much bet-
ter than our cold reserve. The ladies dress with great taste-some-
what French, perhaps, but I think that rather an improvement than
otherwise.
An universal uncertainty seems to pervade the whole city, for if
any one intends to do.anything, be it ever so simple, he will only
venture to gzess he will do so. MAUD.

FIDOO AND I.
Fmo and I went out one day,
Fido to watch and I to play.
We wandered to the little brook,
Where silver wavelets gently took
Their course o'er shining sands of gold,
The moss-grown bank, in freshest hue
Of new spring moss, and fern-leaves too,
Down to the water gently rolled.
The great big branches overhead
Their green leaf curtains round us spread;
While music issued from their folds,
Where daily concert robin holds.
I built a dam across the stream;
I made a water-wheel to run,
And toss the gold-drops in the sun
That shone through leaves in tiny gleam
At last I was tired out with play;
I sought the place where Fido lay,
And laid my head against his neck,
And watched a little passing speck


266


II !








YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS' DEPARTMENT.


Of withered fern-leaf float away.
But soon I fell asleep to dream.
I dreamed a ladder, large and high,
Was lifted far up in the sky,
Where stars forever brightly beam.
I climbed the ladder round by round,
And reached the top, at which I found
Another world of awful kind.
The men were black, with tails behind;
The rocks were black, the trees were black,
The clouds and air itself were black.
I grasped the ladder to go back,
But one great hairy-looking man
Pulled me away, while others ran
And quickly threw the ladder down.
And then they took me to their town,
And it was all as black as night,
Cut out of rocks away from light.
The king lived in a dark, deep cave.
I cried, and begged that he would save
Me from his cruel, ugly men,
And take me to my home again.
He was a giant, and his eyes
Were white and like big eggs in size.
He laughed, and roared, and laughed aloud,
And shouted to his black-faced crowd,
And shaking, held his lazy sides
As if they'd burst their tawny hides
With crazy laughter. Then he turned
And called to feed the fire that burned
Within the cave. He then began:
I've got you now, my little man !
A dainty meal you'll make for me,
My wife, and blackbird children three."
In frenzy now I cried and prayed;
Oh, do not kill me, please I said.
He only sneered and rolled his eyes,
And wound his tail around his thighs,
And shook his ugly fist at me.
I fancied I could almost see
The dark thoughts in his savage face,
Blacker than any in the place.
And now a silent servant came
And thrust a rod into the flame.
I watched the man in wondering fright,
Then screamed, and tried with all my might
To run away. They held me fast.
The black king took the rod at last,
Which was red hot with sparkling heat,
And came toward me. His heavy feet
Trod on my toes. I knew he'd drive
The iron through me still alive.
He put his hand around my head.
I yelled enough to wake the dead.
A cold chill through my body spread,
And woke me. Fido's dear old paw
Was round my neck. And now I saw
His peaceful eyes look down in mine.
He licked my hand, and with a whine
Seemed asking what was all my fear.
In happiness I shed a tear.
SOh, dear old trusty, faithful pet,
You've saved me from an awful death.
I 'I cherish you, I 'll love you yet
Until my very latest breath.
I'11 build a house where you shall dwell;
I '1 treat you like a king, I will;
I'll never harm you, never sell,
Not for a miser's heavy till;
And never shall you be away
When on a quiet summer's day
I while away the hours in play." J. G. H. P.

CHARLES MELROSE'S PROVERB.

IN the large library sat Charles Melrose; and though there was no
school on that day, he was studying his grammar. It was evidently
dull work, for he fidgeted and yawned every few minutes, and now
and then he would cast a look out of the window. There was Willie
Winters and his brother Eddie playing ball, and Louis Foster playing
marbles. How he wished he was with them, instead of studying
those tiresome grammar lessons! And there-yes, there was Oscar
Taylor going chestnuting. That was too great a temptation. With
one bound he reached the door, and, opening it, he rushed down the
stairs and said to Oscar:
Going chestnuting ?"
"Yes," was the reply. "Come with me?"
Charley thought to himself: "Why can't I go ? There is no reason
why I should n't, for I can do my grammar to-morrow morning." So
thinking, he said to Oscar:
Wait a few minutes, and I'11 go with you."


So saying, he ran upstairs to his mother, and said: Mother, I am
going .:-. r.,..r:..; :ri-. Oscar Taylor."
"T .v r..t I-., she replied.
This was the manner in which Mrs. Melrose usually answered
Charley. She thought a sensible boy of twelve ought to know whether
he had the time to go chestnuting, when he had a lesson to study, or
not. When his mother looked toward him he felt uneasy. He knew
:.; .- fi-..i r. .,1 i.i when she knew he had something to do and
.. i .1.- ...3 while hunting after chestnuts, this uneasiness
threw a shadow upon the bright day and clouded the happiness of the
hunt. But the hunt was successful. Charley had never brought
home as many chestnuts before. His mother was very well pleased
with them, and asked him in which direction he had been.
We went all the way to Spile Woods, mother," was the reply.
Well, now you had better eat your supper and go to bed. You
must be tired."
Charley followed this advice, for he knew he must have that gram-
mar finished before school in the morning.
Harry," he said to his brother when he went to bed, wake me
at six o'clock, will you?"
Yes," was the reply; "but it wont be so easy for you to mind,
for I have tried to wake you before-you know that."
It seemed hardly an hour to Charley when Harry called out: Get
up, Charley. It is six o'clock, and you remember you wanted me to
wake you."
"Yes," was the reply; I hear you, and I am going to get up
right away,"-which he certainly meant to do, but it was so long
until nine o'clock that he would lie a moment longer; and that was
the last he thought about it until a violent shaking broke up his
morning dream.
Why, Charley, are n't you ever going' to get up ? It is near
breakfast-time, and Harry said he woke --1 1 -.5 .- And I want
you to see my new ball I bought of Tom .1 :, day."
Do go away, Will. I can't attend to your glall now; I am in a
hurry."
Oh, as for that, you are always in a hurry."
Charley had n't time to reply, for he banged the door and was soon
halfway down the avenue. But it was n't the saying that occupied
Charley's mind; it was the doing. He had now six pages of gram-
mar to correct, and he was never quick at any of his studies. He
was beginning on the fourth page when the quarter to nine bell rang.
O dear he sighed; "if I get another tardy mark, or an im-
perfect one, Miss Barrows will change my seat."
Poor Charley he got both-the tardy mark and the imperfect one
too.
"What is the matter with you, Charley ? asked Miss Barrows, as
Miss King reported him, angrily.
He is not attentive," said hiss King.
I am afraid that that is it, Charley," said Miss Barrows.
When Charley came home, his eyes were red from weeping. His
mother asked what had happened. At this, Charley burst into tears
and told his mother how he had failed in his lessons and suffered the
dreadful punishment, losing his seat, by Oscar Taylor. His mother
listened quietly. She thought that he had now learned whether he
should go chestnuting when it was time to study, or not.
From that time on, Charley took his lessons in a back room, where
he could neither see nor hear the boys at play; and he found that he
got on a great deal better.
One day, he heard his mother reading. He went down-stairs and
overheard her reading to his little sister Lilly. After she had finished
he took up the book, and, looking over it, came upon a proverb that
read thus: Never put offuntil to-morrow what you can do to-day."
"Mother," he said, "I now see into this proverb, and I shall
always try to remember it." c. J. R.


A TRUE BIRD STORY.
A FEW summers ago, a little yellow warbler began to build a nest
in a little bush in the front yard. All the family were much distressed,
for it was within easy reach of puss (you see they were cat-defenders,
too). At last, the Doctor moved the straws and sticks which the
birds were weaving together, to a syringa-bush near by, where it
would be out of kitty's way. The birds were not as slow to take a
hint as some people are, and they went on and finished the nest and
hatched out a little brood.
One Sunday, a violent storm came up, and the poor little home
was rocking to and fro, sometimes almost upside down; but the
mother bird managed to cling to it, with her wings outspread, keep-
ing the little nestlings from falling out. But the wind blew harder
every moment, and the rain was beating down. The Doctor was the
only one of the family at home, and he saw that, unless something
was done at once, the nest must soon be overturned and the occu-
pants thrown out. So, trusting to the good sense of the little mother,
he opened the window, reached out, and with a firm hand took hold
of the branch to which the nest was fastened, and held it still. The
little bird was confiding enough to sit quietly brooding her babies.
The Doctor sat and held the nest until the rest of his family returned
from church, and then they put a stake into the ground and tied the
bush securely to it, so that the nest could not be disturbed in the next
storm; and there the little family of warblers lived until they were
old enough to fly. s. A. B.


1876.1


267







THE LETTER-BOX.


THE LETTER-BOX.


JAMIE LOWE writes a funny little letter asking "what sort of
thing" a "congereel" is, and probably expecting to find that it is a
queer mechanical contrivance. At any rate, our first thought on see-
ing Jamie's strangely-written word was to conjure up all the reels of
which we overheard, in the hope of finding one among the list that
bore this unfamiliar name. It was not, indeed, until we had given
up in despair that we discovered Jamie's orthography and our mis-
take. We can answer his question now. It is quite easy and simple.
Know then, Jamie, that a conger-eel is very much the same "sort
of thing as a common eel, excepting in size, in which respect it dif-
fers greatly, being sometimes ten feet long and weighing ioo pounds.
It lives almost entirely in the sea, and is rarely seen in winter.
(But, Jamie, for our sakes, please remember that a little thing no
bigger than a hyphen is sometimes worth a great deal.)

New York, Nov. 3oth.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I found a curious explanation lately of the
custom of hand-shaking, bowing, &c.
In the days of chivalry, when men went around clad in armor, and
no one could trust any he met, when two knights came together
they clasped right hands. This, of course, was a sign of peace, as
putting your battle-hand in your enemy's rendered you helpless.
Again, when a knight met a lady, his taking his helmet off was a
sign of friendly intentions as well as respect, as it rendered him en-
tirely defenseless. It is easy to see how, on the dropping of the cus-
tom of armor-wearing, that these customs were perpetuated.-Yours,
FRANCIS DE GREY.
F- ..uD G .

PiLOT-PUZZLERS.-You shall hear from ST. NICHOLAS next month
concerning the answers to our Prize Puzzle-THE RACE OF THE
PILOTs-in December number.

J. L. D.-""Heligoland" is not a fabulous country, as youimagine,
but an island in the North Sea, belonging to Great Britain. It is
very small and bare-little more, indeed, than a single rock rising 20o
feet above the sea, and capped by a light-house and a small village.
Its inhabitants are almost all either fishermen or pilots. It is an im-
portant post in war-time, and has of late been frequented as a water-
ing-place, the sea having created large sand-banks around it.

JUDY JoNES.-We must respectfully decline your poem com-
mencing:
There was once a little boy,
And his heart was full of joy,
For he had a little pail,
And he did n't like to wail
When he broke his little pail.
But his mother heard him cry,
And she ran unto her boy,
And said, 'What's the matter, child?
'Oh, ma!' says he, 'I'm wild,
For I've broke my little pail,
And I did n't like to wail.'"

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: May we tell the girls of a simple but useful
discovery we children have made? The other .-.:.,r ..-..-.-.
spattered some ink on papa's library-table. W i. l, .
ended at first, for the blots made ugly spots on the green cloth; but
Lizzie, quick as a flash, took a sheet of blotting-paper and soaked up
the ink. Then, just because we were desperate and had n't any
water handy, we kept rubbing and rubbing the wet places with the
blotting-paper till it all lay on the cloth in little black or lead-colored
rolls-and the spots were all gone/ Yes, you couldn't even see a
trace of them. Then we ran and told papa, feeling just as proud as
could be. Since then we tried the experiment of spattering a little
..1 .-. i.- li.....i ( .. lack under the sofa, you know), and the
I- ,i.. .. ,.,i i .smitch of it out. Don't you think this is
,i. i..... '.. u. the ordinary thick white blotting-paper.
-', .* "'.'.. r. r..'J MAY AND KITTY H-

JOHN S. C.-See "Edwin and Paulinus," in Palgrave's "Chil-
dren's Treasury of English Song." It is a good "speaking piece"-
short, and capable of fine action and expression. If you wish to learn
a simple piece, dealing with every-day life, you '11 find The Harper,"
in the same volume, just the thing. It is by Thomas Campbell, author
of "Pleasures of Hope," and may be styled the classic "Old Dog
Tray."


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Will you please send me a definition for the
word "Iliad ?" The story which goes through your third volume just
suits me. I like adventurous stories so much. I like Mr. Trow-
bridge's Bass Cove Stories" very much. If you please, is there
any other pronunciation for "quay" beside ke ?-I remain, as ever,
your affectionate reader, META GAGE.
The "Iliad" is a poem by Homer, describing the destruction of
Ilium, or ancient Troy. "Quay" is always pronounced.ke.


HELEN M.-" The Vale of Tempe" isa valley in European Tur-
key, between the two chief mountains of North-eastern Thessaly-
Olympus and Ossa. It was noted in olden times for its natural
beauty, which was celebrated and described by many ancient writers.
So frequent, indeed, are their allusions to it, that the name is often
used as a symbol of beautiful scenery, just as that of "Arcadia is ap-
plied to a peaceful and prosperous hamlet.

Hot Springs, N. M., Oct., 1875.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have subscribed to your magazine two
years, and think it the best magazine published for children. I live
on a ranche twenty-five miles from any place. I am very lonesome,
there being no children here except myself. I do not know what I
would do without the ST. NICHOLAS. There being no one here, I
cannot get you any subscribers. My brother takes the SCRIBNER'S
MONTHLY, and likes it very much. Of all the stories I ever read, I
like the Eight Cousins" the best; it is instructive and pretty. This
is the first letter I have written to a magazine, and hope to see it
published. I am thirteen years old. There are a great many birds
around here; there is nobody to disturb them, so I cannot be a
Bird-defender.-From your ever true and faithful friend,
EMMA L. LYONS.

Peoria, I11., Nov. 28th.
DEAR EDITOR: I take ST. NICHOLAS and think it is splendid. I
read them and then send them to my cousins, and they think they
are justjolly. They are two boys. I am eleven years old, and live
in Peoria. I have seen the sea-horses that Jack speaks of in the
December number; my aunt had two presented to her. I have a
little brother at home, about six years old. He is too young to read
them, but he enjoys looking at the pictures, and sometimes I read to
him. Good-bye.-Yours truly, EMMA GREGORY.

ROBBY TERRELL.-Your accident with stilts was indeed unfortu-
nate, but a snow-drift is not the best place in the world to practice
this singular locomotion. You need not, at least, berate the stilts as
you do, for they are often very valuable. It is true that an Ameri-
can boy uses them chiefly for amusement, but they may serve even
him a good purpose in keeping him out of the mud--provided that
he knows well how to manage them. But in portions of France,
where the ground is low, marshy, and often abounding in treacher-
ous little holes covered with sand, the people constantly use stilts to
avoid the dangers and discomfort of walking upon such a soil. They
are, of course, very expert with them, and can travel at a good
speed-moving at a gait and in a way that make a stilt-walker of
ordinary stature seem, at a distance, like a giant eight or ten feet high.
We don't urge you to persevere in practicing with stilts, but only
wish you to remember that they may have an important use, and
are not to be despised.

MALEBRANCHE'S LEG OF MUTTON.
A SUBSCRIBER sends the Letter-Box the following anecdote, which
she has lately translated from the French of the Courier des Etats
Unis:
Malebranche was a French Jesuit, distinguished principally for his
original philosophical ideas, which he demonstrated with great force
and brilliancy. For a long time he was possessed of a singular idea.
He imagined incessantly that he had an enormous leg of mutton on
the extremity of his nose. If one said on meeting him, "How do
you do, Malebranche ? he would reply: "Very well, monsieur, but
this leg of mutton is becoming intolerable to me, on account of its
weight and odor."
"How Leg of mutton ?"
"Yes, don't you see it hanging there ?" responded he, showing his
nose. If one laughed at him, or if one denied seeing it, Malebranche
was angry with him ever after. An intimate friend, a man of in-
telligence, conceived the idea, when visiting him, of asking first the


268


[FEBRUARY,







THE LETTER-BOX.


news of his leg of mutton. Malebranche embraced his friend with
warmth, was fill of gratitude, but immediately said, "I have hurt
you, perhaps ?"
Certainly, your leg of mutton has wounded my eye; but I can-
not comprehend why you have not endeavored to rid yourself, ere
this, of this troublesome parasite. If you willpermitme--." (Here
his friend displays a razor.) "It is an operation without the least

I friend, my friend," cried Malebranche, "I owe you more
than my life. Oh, if you can but relieve me! "
In the twinkling of an eye the friend made a light incision on the
extremity of his nose, and drawing from his large sleeve a fine leg
of mutton, he showed it victoriously to Malebranche.
"Ah what do I see! cried the other. "I breathe once more! I
am saved! My head is heavy no more! I breathe freely! But!
what is this? My leg of mutton was raw, this is cooked! "
Faith, I can believe it, for you have been sitting before the fire
nearly an hour."
From that time Malebranche was cured of his monomania.


THE army of Bird-defenders is steadily increasing in numbers. We
shall soon publish the names of all the recruits received since October
Ist, 1875.

HERE is an account of how a little American girl, who lives in
Erzroom, Turkey, spent a day. Most of her week-days are spent in
this way. She does not go to school, but studies at home.
"At half-past eight she gathered together her books and placed
them on the dining-table, hung a small outline map of North America
on the wall, and then drew her chair up to the table and prepared her
reading-lesson. She read three pages about Obstinate and Pliable.
You may think she has a very funny reading-book. Perhaps you
can find out the name of it. Then this lonesome little girl was told
that her geography lesson for to-day she would find on the 127th page
of the December ST. NICHOLAS, or "Sincas," as the baby calls it.
Perhaps you have forgotten what there is pertaining to geography in
that number which you read a year ago. It is the puzzle called
"The Day in the Grove." Not being very skillful either in geogra-
phy or botany, the little girl hit upon the "green tree for the first
answer. She was laughed at so much (which perhaps was n't very
fair since there are almost no trees here), that she soon began to pluck
up her wits, and in the end had found out all but two of her map
questions. Then writing was in order, and she set to work on a
letter to her friend Freddie. This gives her also an exercise in spell-
ing. Then she took up her arithmetic. The government of her
school is not absolute, and we sometimes set the ordinary arithmetics
aside-courteously, of course. This day the little girl counted all the
words in an article of ten pages written by her father. When she
finished a page she wrote down the number of words. Afterward
she added the several numbers and set down the result. In this way
she was learning the first rule in arithmetic, besides aiding her father.
Then she played on the cabinet organ some of Richardson's exer-
cises. When this was over she put on her 'nollans' (wooden shoes





--- '- -I




THE FEZ. THE NOLLANS.

with leather straps) over her buttoned boots, and went on the roof to
play. Our roofs are all flat, and, at tis season of the year, muddy.
It is not necessary for her to adopt the native style of overshoes, but
this little girl affects Oriental fashions. Probably if you were to
come to see her she would persuade you to wear the nollans,' and
also to leave your hat in the house and put on a red 'fez' with a
long black tassel, or tie your head up in a green or yellow or scarlet
handkerchief." J. P.

Washington, D. C., at home, Oct. 9th, 1875.
To MY FRIEND AND COMPANION, ST. NICHOLAS: I have for some
time been wanting to write to you, but could not find an opportunity
to gratify my desire; but this bright, beautiful morning I am deter-
mined to write. I have read the Eight Cousins," and am delighted
with it, and would like very much to follow Rose in her daily joys and
trials, and also watch Miss Phebe's progress as she mounts the ladder
step by step, gaining knowledge with each, until at last she stands
at the top, a true, noble, and intellectual woman.
As to "The Young Surveyor,"-or "Jack Hazard," for to me it
is the same story, although the hero be quite a different person from
the little canal driver, with a piece of bread and 'lasses in one hand


and his whip in the other,-I cannot realize that it is really finished,
and find myself looking forward for the next number, to follow him in
his adventures.
I will now close. Congratulating you on your success,-may you
ever prosper,-I remain your true friend, GENEVRA."


WE regret to say that, by an oversight, the original of the beautiful
frontispiece to our January number was attributed, in the table of
contents, to Tintoretto, instead of to his master, Titian. This fresco
of St. Christopher is on the roof of a stair-way in the Doge's palace in
Venice, and is not commonly seen by strangers. It is one of the very
few frescoes left by Titian. Indeed, some writers claim that it is the
only one; other and better authorities say that of the many frescoes
in the Scuola of Padua, three are by Titian himself, while the rest are
by his pupils.

CHARLEY B- says he has an uncle who delights to test his
knowledge now and then, and who has lately thrown him into a state
of troublesome curiosity by a vague allusion to some remarkable
structure called The Tower of the Thundering Winds." His uncle
tells him that such a tower actually exists, but wishes him to find out
all about it for himself; and Charley, though he has thus far failed,
yet does not like to give up, and secretly appeals to ST. NICHOLAS.
Unfortunately for him, the Saint approves of his uncle's method of
instruction, and can only compromise matters a little by putting the
problem to its scores of other young heads, and asking Charley's
equals in years to come to his aid.
If they fail, Charley, ST. NICHOLAS will solve the mystery, and,
at the risk of offending your uncle, will even now say to you-don't
look too near home. Take a bird's-eye view of the Globe, if you can,
and you may be able to see this noted tower.

ST. NICHOLAS: I will tell you how to preserve autumn leaves.
Mother took a paraffine candle; any other wont do. Then she melted
some of the candle, and dipped the leaves in it, then in cold water.
It is not much to do it. -Yours truly, MaRY DEWEY.


i University Place, New York City, Nov. 4th, T875.
DEAR EDITOR OF OUR ST. NICHOLAS: Your "Jack-in-the-Pulpit"
has given us some information on matters and things which have
been great help to the young folks, and caused us to think much of
the little magazine.
Now will you be so kind as to give us some information we very
much desire concerning a nice song. It is a song which our mother
sings so nicely, but she knows only two verses of it, and we feel we
would give'most anything to get the remaining two or three verses.
She says she has known it for more than twelve years. We inquired
at two or three music-stores, but cannot find it.
The name of theof song is The White Pilgrim," and the first line
runs thus: "I came to the spot where the white pilgrim lay." We
do not know the author of the words or music; but ii you can just
only give us the words (mother knows the music to which 1... ,r
set), you will confer a great favor.-Yours anxiously, I -
Who can inform Fred?

MANY CORRESPONDENTS.-The following communication from
Mrs. Fannie Roper Feudge will, we trust, satisfactorily cover numer-
ous recent inquiries in regard to postage-stamps:
\.,.. 11.: -. .r., ... longer in use, it is'difficult to say which is the
ra .. !l.-r I i..: F.ocky iMountain Pony Express, Wells, Fargo
& Co., was, at one time, considered the rarest of all; but the great
demand for it by collectors brought a supply i:, in.- T. ':I i. mar-
ket, so that, at a later day, specimens could bei .. :- ..i i andon
at a very small advance on the face value. Some very rare postage-
stamps belonging to Denmark, but without date, were sold in Lon-
don about ten years ago, for twelve and fifteen shillings each, though
the time of their issue could not be ascertained. It is just possible
that they were not more genuine than one circulated by a wag, with
the rumor that Iceland had issued a stamp of her own, in lieu of the
Danish. The device of the new stamp was a bear and the word
vulzare. An enthusiastic collector shortly after noticed a stamp of
this sort on a pomatum pot, and on inquiry found that the bear
stamp, instead of belonging to Iceland, was the copyright of a barber!
In regard to sie, stamps vary but little. Of the few "overgrown"
ones, as they have been called, the 600oo reis of Brazil, and the 6d. and
Is. of New South Wales (the first issued), bear off the palm; and
the smallest known is the quarter schilling, of Mecklenburg Schwerin.
For beauty, the stamp of Nova Scotia has been called the queen
of stamps ; while of the English stamp, which invariably bears the
head of Queen Victoria, some one has said: Never, in so small a
space, has the engraver's art created anything more perfect; and it is


1876.]


269








270 THE RIDDLE-BOX. [FEBRUARY.


only to be regretted that this little masterpiece of art must ever be
outraged by the canceling mark." Italy had a variety of stamps,
some of them very artistic, but they have mostly been replaced by an
embossed head of Victor Emmanuel, and very few of the former can
now be obtained. The rudest and most coarsely executed stamps
are those of Moldavia and Moldo Wallachia, which are struck off on
any IHn-l -f r ..- hy a hand stamp.
I. I ...' i the largest is that of the Rocky Mountain Pony
Express, of four dollars; and the least, the centime (one-fourth ofa
cent), of France and Belgium. The next smallest in value oF *"
stamps, are the half-penny stamps of Ceylon and Malta. I'-. ,-: ...
use at Singapore and the other Straits settlements under British rule,
are somewhat below the usual size in this country, though scarcely
smaller than the English (dome) stamp. The Straits stamp, as in-
deed are all the British Colonial stamps, are manufactured in London.
Stamps have rarely been printed in more than one color. Those,
however, that were first issued for British India were of two colors,
red and blue intermingled. So, also, are the South Australian regis-
ter stamps, and those used in some of the Swiss Cantons.
Polish stamps were printed in three colors, and the Russian stamp
also shows three. France has a stamp divided into two portions by
perforation, which allows the lower half to be torn off in canceling,
leaving the letter to reach its destination with only the upper half ad-
hering.
India is indebted to the late Earl of Dalhousie for the establish-
ment of a cheap and uniform rate of postage in that wide-spread
country. Formerly postage to most places in the interior was so
very expensive as almost to preclude correspondence by mail-it be-
ing cheaper, ordinarily, to send a native courier with the dispatch.
Now a letter may be conveyed from Peshawer, on the borders of
-tr.-.-.; .... -.. .. 1 ....... -* village of Cape Comorin, fifteen
. I.. 1 .1 I.. I.- a half anna, less than two cents of
our money. Other distances, between all points of this great penin-
sula, are of proportionately cheap rates; and, as in England, the
revenue of the postal department has been increased an hundred fold


since the system of cheap postage has been adopted. Since 1858,
when the rule of the East India Company ceased to exist, a new
S-.-. i .... more nearly resembling that of England, has been
1 I ..r I -. Jia.

WE have received from the composer, T. Boott, the following
music: "I'm Weary with Rowing," "Waiting for You, Jock,"
"Here's a Health to King Charles." "Wishing," "Dormi, Jesu! "
"The Sailor's Wife," and Lady Moon." The latter is from Our
Young Folks' Little Songs," which is a series of very pretty and very
easy songs for children.

THE CHILDREN'S TREASURY OF ENGLISH SONG. Selected and
arranged with notes by Francis Turner Palgrave. New York: Mac-
millan & Co.-We heartily commend this book to our boys and girls
as one of the choicest collections of English poetry we have yet seen.
Nothing has been admitted which is not true and fine, and many
of the poems are made doubly inviting by Mr. Palgrave's explanatory
notes. That despairing cry, "Where shall I find a good piece to
speak in school?" will be stilled when once this dainty volume be-
comes part of a home.

THE INTERNATIONAL POSTAGE-STAMP ALBUM, by J. Walter
Scott (J. W. Scott & Co., N. Y.), is a large and handsome book, con-
taining spaces for the insertion of all the varieties of postage-stamps
that have been issued in various parts of the world, with a great deal
of useful information about the stamps, rulers, flags, arms, &c., of the
different nations. Our young stamp-collectors will find this a valu-
able album.


THE RIDDLE-BOX.


NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
I AM composed of thirty-one letters. My 22, 23, 12,
7, 31, 1o, 30 is a dissenter. My 6, 1, 24, 26, 14 is reason.
My 2, 3, 13, 21 is a channel. My 18, 17, 19, 20 is to lay
in order. My II, 5, 29 is a -rqin My 15, 25, 4, 14 is
a relation. My 9, 27, i6, ,:., ., t, 5 is part of every
house. My whole is a short sermon. A. S.

BEHEADED RHYMES.
THE silent monk, with gloomy -
Stood muffled in his heavy -
As solemn as the wisest-
That ever sat on nest.

The while the gallant knight, St. -
Arose and left his lonely-
I '11 go," said he, and take the --
Upon yon mountain's crest."

But as he climbed, he felt a --
If I should stay upon this -
I 'm sure," said he, "I should be -
To go back will be best."

'T was then the gloomy monk did-
Be satisfied with what's in
Remember this, my hearers -
And put it to the test." A. M.

PYRAMID.
LEFT incline is a kind of .;In censuring vice and
folly. Centrals, winding like the thread of a screw.
Right incline, horses for state or war.
I. A consonant. 2. Appropriate. 3. Worn out. 4. An
ungrateful wretch. 5. Turned to one side. 6. The state
of being uniform in all parts. HYPERION.


EASY HIDDEN CITIES.
I. I HAVE a new portfolio. 2. See that ox fording the
stream. 3. Get up, I say. 4. Glad, 0 very glad am I!
5. It is in the attic or kitchen. 6. Rain and wind; sorry
prospect for the farmers. 7. If you do not hasten to
supper, the cakes will be cold. 8. He is either playing
with the cat or on top of the shed. 9. Mr. Hilmott
awakened to find his house in flames. S. K.

WORD-SQUARE.
THE cry of a wolf. A monster. A small bird. A
fast. M.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
INITIALS.
A CELEBRATED poet's name.
FINALS.
Contemporary of the same.
CROSS-WORDS.
Ye little folks, all hide your gold;
Here comes a robber fierce and bold.
A traitor follows in his wake;
'Gainst him who can precaution take ?
From earth to heaven your eyes now raise;
A constellation claims your gaze.
A water-fowl next calls to you:
"What is my name ?-come, tell it true."
"And what is mine ? from o'er the sea
A country calls. What can it be?
A lovely flow'ret wants to know
If you can tell her how to grow.
A vengeful tyrant waits to hear
His name and nation, plain and clear.
A gallant ship now shouts, "Ahoy!
Come board me, ev'ry girl and boy "
JENNY DARE.


270


THE RIDDLE-BOX.


[FEBRUARY.






THE RIDDLE-BOX.


PICTORIAL ENIGMA.
(The central picture indicates the whole word, from the letters of which the names of the other pictures may be formed.)


.I .T

*=_._ I ,*- n 5.
- -7 '- _


- "1


CHARADE.
MY first is a circle quite full of emotion;
My second, a famous town close by the ocean
My third is my first with a small annexation;
My whole is a beautiful, bright constellation.
ANON.
DIAGONAL PUZZLE.
MY first indicates generosity. My second is used by
astronomers. My third is a bright saying. My fourth,
another word for immediately. My fifth is a coming
together. My sixth, holders of a military rank. My
seventh denotes pleasing or praiseworthy. My eighth
was the scene of a world-renowned battle. My ninth is
heretical. My whole, read diagonally, reveals the name
of a department in ST. NICHOLAS. E. D.
WORD-SQUARE.
I. A TEMPEST. 2. A number. 3. A kind of window.
4. An ancient English officer of justice. 5. A confused
scuffle. HYPERION.


A-. ?


r> .2


------ " ,* '- "M" '








... --. .





















DIHYPERION.MOND PUZZLE.



CLASSICAL CHARADE.
I AM a word of four syllables, of which my first and
second united denote opposition; my third and fourth, a
famous island that gives name to a beautiful marble;
and my whole is the name of another island, noted for
its wonderful grotto, eighty yards high and one hundred
broad, containing a superb marble pyramid and a variety
of figures of a lustrous and transparent whiteness.
-F. R. F.
DECAPITATIONS.
WHOLE, I am to contract; behead twice, I am a place
of amusement; behead again, and get something used
by authors. L. P.
by authors. t. F.


1876.]


271






THE RIDDLE-BOX.


REBUS.


,-II~
7>45


I~


4 i






E3i


', -
A- K


K


ENIGMA.
I AM composed of twenty-four letters. My 14, 15, 19,
20 is to incline. My 17, 7, 22, 9 is a vessel. My I, 19,
5 is a domestic animal. My II, 2, 4, 12 is shape. My
3, 16 is a personal pronoun. My 13, 21, 19 is a girl's
name. My 24, 8, 18 is to strike. My 23, lo, 8, 14 is to
make dirty. My 5, 10, 3, 4 is a journey. My whole is
the name of a celebrated poem. FUN SEE.


CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.
MY first is in Frank, but not in Joe;
My second is in deer, but not in doe;
My third is in infant, but not in child;
My fourth is in gentle, but not in mild;
My fifth is in cat, but not in dog;
My sixth is in hole, but not in bog;
My whole is a country in Europe. A. M.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN JANUARY NUMBER.


A MYTHOLOGICAL ENIGMA.-Mount Parnassus.
BEHEADED RHYMiES -Prate, rate, ate. Flout, lout, out.
ELLIPSES.-I. Speculation, peculation. 2. Galley, alley. 3. Grope,
rope 4. Goat, oat. 5. Strap, trap. 6. Sink, ink.
ACROSTICAL ENIGMA.-Canary.
C-orsica
A--exander the Great
N-imrod, the founder of Nineveh
A-thens
R-amoth, where Ahab died, Joram was wounded,
Y-okohama. [and Jehu anointed.
SQUARE-WORD.- D 0 DG E
0 P E R A
DETER
GREAT
EARTH
ExcEPTIONS.-x. Maple, male. 2. Popular, poplar, polar. 3. Tim-
ber, Tiber. 4. Chaplet, chalet. ,. Revel, reel. 6. Canto, Cato. 7.
Marline, marine. 8. Capulin, caplin. 9. Caramel, Carmel, camel.
Io. Canyon, canon.
SQUARE REMAINDERS.--S-T A B-S
B-A L E-S
A-B E T-S
DIAMOND PUZZLE.- Mi
T I AT
TALON
MI LL ION
M 0 I ST
NOT
N
MIVETAGRAM.-Whack, hack, Jack, lack, pack, rack, Mack, tack,
sack, bah.! t ,. *. i knack.
EASY *, ..- S -- SW A N
WAR E
A R MI S
N E S T
NEST
TRANSPOSITIONS.-:z Insufferable-suffer in Elba. 2. A grander
-arranged. 3. My one-money. 4. Particular-I curl a part. 5.


Covenant-a convent. 6. Diversion-is so driven. 7. Directions-
discretion. 8. Tolerated-told a tree. 9. Trident-red tint. 1o.
Imparted-dime trap.
HOUR-GLASS PUZZLE.-
T R A-C-E R S
S H-A-R E
S--P--Y
s-I-v
T
T-A-N
S P--I-N N
S P I-N-N E R
ENIGMA.-Merry Christmas to all.
DIAMOND REMAINDERS.-
A-L-E
S-T A B-S
S-L A T E R-S
A-B E T-S
E-R--A
CHARADE -Babylon.
CHRISTMAS-TREE PUZZLE.-r. Umbrella (umber-Ella). 2. Para-
sol. 3. 1....r ..- .. rnd). 4. Bracelets (cut-lets). 5. Note-
paper. i-.- ..1 :.. 7. Watch. 8. Ear-rings. 9. Doll (four-
sixths of a dollar). Io. Cane. ni. Telescope (Tell-S-cope). 12.
Gloves (Gee and loves). 13. Robinson Crusoe. 14. Student's-lamp
(stew-dents-palm). z5. Scott's works. i6. Slippers. 17. Scent-
bag (cent). 18. Handkerchief (hand-cur-chief). o9. Neckties.
20. Traveling-bag. 21. Diamond necklace. 22. Picture (Pict-ewer).
23. Whip (hip and double you). 24. Tools (two, or too 1, s). 25. Col-
lars cholerss) and cuffs. 26. Mother Goose. 27. Counterpane. 28.
Mantilla (tiller). 29. Mosquito-net. 30. Drum (d and rum). 31.
-w. i-ti-nT-- (Dick-shun airy). 33. Spectacles. 34. Shawl
I. --:. I I r'. 36. Candy (c-and-y). 37. Breast-pin.
'....:l-case. 39. Piano. 40. Diary. 41. Locket (lock it). 42.
*I : 43. Cravat (craving). 44. Violin. 45. Tortoiseshell comb.
46. Ivory hair-brush. 47. Nosegay. 48. Block. 49. Boot-jack. 50.
Lace barb. (There was a mistake in No. 14 of this puzzle. It
should have read: -and a part of the hand, transposed.")


ANswERS TO PUZZLES IN DECEMBER NUMBER were received, previous to December r8, from G. A. Wells, Kittle Roe, Willie Dibblee,
" Gussie," Willie McKibbin, Clement March, Polly," Arthur D. Smith, Alfred T. Barnes, Little Sealskin Cap" and "Gugeorguge,"
Lottie E. Little and Nellie B Manchester, Minnie Markham, Katie L. Offiett, Frankie E., Mary C. Foster, John P. Tucker, N'importe,"
Mabel C. Chester, D. C. Robertson, Stella Archer, Alfred Mestre, Florence Osgood, William C. Delanoy, Sophie C. Johnson, Willie E.
Furber, "A Bird-defender," .. Harry C. Wiles, S ..:. f i TI Tommy W. Fry, Evelyn S., Frank French, John R. Eldridge,
Marcia Lamphire, May Holr.. I.i.. Wilson Stockwell, I'.. ;. i r .., Willie A. Lewis, C. W. Hornor, Jr., C. F. Pernnell, W. L.
Young, Clive Ferris Wheffcn, Lucy A. P., 1. D. Schaffer, Norman Barbour, Mamie A. Johnson, Harry Forde, and Carrie L. Hastings.


272


[FEBRUARY.




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