Front Cover
 The mother's stratagem
 One hundred years of American...
 The cat and the countess
 Boston boys
 Windsor Castle
 Boston boys
 Jemima Brown
 How the storks came and went
 Our flag
 The boy emigrants
 Turret-ships and torpedoes
 How old Martin and Washington came...
 The Vikings in America
 Little housekeepers' page
 Jack-in-the pulpit
 Young contributors' department
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas.
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00036
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas.
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: -c1943.
Subject: Children's literature
Literature for Children
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00036
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 mother's stratagem
        Page 537
        Page 538
        Page 539
        Page 540
    One hundred years of American history
        Page 541
    The cat and the countess
        Page 542
        Page 543
        Page 544
        Page 545
        Page 546
        Page 547
        Page 548
        Page 549
        Page 550
        Page 551
    Boston boys
        Page 552
    Windsor Castle
        Page 553
        Page 554
        Page 555
        Page 556
    Boston boys
        Page 557
    Jemima Brown
        Page 558
    How the storks came and went
        Page 559
        Page 560
        Page 561
        Page 562
        Page 563
        Page 564
    Our flag
        Page 565
        Page 566
    The boy emigrants
        Page 567
        Page 568
        Page 569
        Page 570
        Page 571
        Page 572
        Page 573
        Page 574
        Page 575
        Page 576
    Turret-ships and torpedoes
        Page 577
        Page 578
        Page 579
        Page 580
        Page 581
    How old Martin and Washington came to be friends (A fourth of July story)
        Page 582
        Page 583
        Page 584
    The Vikings in America
        Page 585
        Page 586
        Page 587
        Page 588
        Page 589
        Page 590
    Little housekeepers' page
        Page 591
        Page 592
        Page 593
    Jack-in-the pulpit
        Page 594
        Page 595
    Young contributors' department
        Page 596
    The letter-box
        Page 597
        Page 598
    The riddle-box
        Page 599
        Page 600
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text



(See "The Mother's Stratagem.")


JULY, 1876.



ONE sunny morning, a few years ago, Jan Kam-
merick came up from the cabin of his barge-which
his men were slowly working through a lock near
the quaint and ancient city of Antwerp-and set his
huge Dutch feet upon the deck. His first act was
to bellow ferociously at the good-natured fellows
who were doing their best to get the barge through
without even so much as scraping the fresh paint
on her sides; his next was deliberately and cruelly
to kick a small moon-faced boy who was lying on
his back, and looking up at a carved wooden figure
whose grotesque head grinned from a side rail.
Many of the loungers along the banks of the
lock knew old Jan Kammerick for a mean and
cruel Flemish boor, who maltreated his wife, his
children, his bargemen, and who sometimes flew
into such terrific fits of anger that he thrashed his
own sides with his round fists. You may see
people just like him in some of Teniers' paintings,
-men with low, cunning faces, small, twinkling,
greedy eyes, thick lips; men with broad shoulders
and stout limbs; men who seem always ready to
get down and scramble away on all fours, like the
animals they so much resemble. No one in Ant-
werp-not a market-woman on the shore of the
Scheldt, nor a bargeman on river or canal-liked
the choleric and brutal Jan Kammerick; many
times the wretch had narrowly escaped a ducking
at the hands of a mob because of his cruelties;
and on this occasion, seeing the poor child who
was kicked begin to cry and to crawl away toward
a refuge under a pile of rope, every one shouted :
Jan Kammerick Jan Kammerick you are a
mean, bad man, and no one will be sorry when
you come to harm!" or "Jan Kammerick! you
VOL. 111.-36.

shall be complained of to the judge of the dis-
trict "
The women shook their fists at him, and the
men muttered that the boy must be taken away
from his cruel father and cared for. Kammerick's
poor wife, who was washing her pots and kettles on
deck, looked as if she inwardly sympathized with
the people on shore; but she trembled, and dared
say nothing.
Jan was in such a dreadful temper that the cries
of the people on shore made him more furious still.
It's none of your business," he shouted, how
much I pound and kick this brat! He is good for
nothing but whittling and breaking knives. If he
carves any more of his pudding faces out of my
boat rails, I'll send him adrift. Then you will
have what you want! Then, neighbors, you will
have a pauper on your hands; and when you feed
him in your kitchens, he will carve doll puppets out
of your table-legs."
Then he vanished down the hatchway, followed
by the maledictions of the by-standers.
If I were you," cried one of them to the boy,
" I would run away."
The barge went on through the locks, and the
boy still crouched in his corner. The tears yet
dimmed his eyes, but he had already forgotten his
bruises. There was no resentment in his heart
toward his wretched father. His mind was filled
with a thousand beautiful and fantastic images,-
delicate fancies which he now and then sought to
embody in bits of wood that he laboriously carved
with clumsy knives or chisels. He longed to he
free from the rude work which he was compelled to
do upon the barge, and to study, that he might
become a great sculptor in wood. When the barge


No. 9.


passed near some of the curiously adorned old
houses of which there are so many in Antwerp,-
houses whose windows, whose roofs, whose arches,
whose doors were richly and profusely adorned with
carvings of birds and foliage, of beasts and dragons,
of mystical figures from mythologies, or comical
transcripts from every-day Dutch life,-he studied
them carefully and with passionate adoration. He
had never been allowed to go into the streets, and
,look at them for hours at a time, as he could have
wished to do; for old Jan, who plied to and from a
little village on the banks of the Scheldt, at some
distance from Antwerp, would never allow his child
to go on shore during any of their tri-weekly visits
to the city. He yearned for a sight of the grand
churches of which his mother had told him-cathe-
drals in whose solemn stillness he could stand un-
disturbed all the day long, drinking in beauty at
every pore. The harshness and hardship of his
life, the beatings of his unnatural father, would
have been as nothing to him if he could have been
allowed to learn something of art. But old Jan
not only refused to allow him to work, but had
thrown into the river many beautiful images of
saints, of birds, of dragons, which the child had
carved by stealth when the bargeman was not near,
and had then offered to the boor, asking him to
sell them and buy tobacco for himself with the
No child of mine shall waste his life over such
mummeries," said old Jan.
While the boy was musing bitterly on his lot,
his mother, who had finished washing her pots and
kettles, came to him, and while she wrung out her
dishcloth with her lean and blistered hands, she
said, in a low voice:
Jan, boy, you are small and feeble, but you
are now thirteen, and I think you would be brave
and resolute. The good soul down-stairs" (she
always called Father Jan good soul, because she
knew that he was an old brute)-" the good soul
has made up his mind that you are to be a barge-
man, and he is stern, as you know. .Now-do not
speak-we must try a new way to get you launched
in the world." (Here the mother's tears began to
fall fist, and she thought of the beatings which she
might receive if she carried out her plan.) My
child, you must leave us; you must run away "
The boy's eyes flashed; he rose, and limped
toward his mother.
Never !" he said. I cannot leave you, mother-
kin Leave you with that man "
Listen, child she said. We will try a little
way which the good God has put .into my head.
You will be a genius, my son-one of those great
people who can express just what they want to say.
You will carve out your thoughts in wood-in

stone, perhaps. To-night, when the barge stops
near the lock, I will make an errand for your father
on shore. I will give you a few pieces of money
out of the sum which we had saved for Bertha's
dowry, and you shall fly. Your father will not
hunt for you; his heart is hard, and he will say
that he is glad you are gone."
The boy looked at his mother with wonder in his
eyes. But there was no longer any sign of tears
in them. A new fire lit them up.
Go," she continued, to Gasker Willems, in
the little street near St. Andrew's. There take a
chamber, and may God be with you! Now and
then, perhaps, I may come to see you. But it is
better that I should not, and that your father should
think you gone away, no one knows where. But-
and now listen earnestly-in a year from this day,
toward sunset, I will bring your father to Saint
Andrew's Church. It was there that he first saw
me, twenty years ago; there by the great carven
pulpit, which you, poor child, have never seen, but
which will delight your eyes. Jan, one year is not
a long time, but you have already done much, and
perhaps, before twelve months have passed, you
will have done a noble work. Meet us, then, by
the pulpit in St. Andrew's Church in a year from
this day, at the sunset hour. Bring with you some
delicate carving as an offering to him, and at the
same time say that you wish to return to us. Per-
haps his heart will have been softened by your ab-
sence; and the good little mother almost smiled,
and looked very wise, through her tears.
"Motherkin," said Jan, I will obey you."
Then the poor child began to tremble at the
thought of going out alone into the world. But
his courage came to him finally, and he kissed his
mother again and again.
If anything dreadful happens, I will let you
know," said she, "but father Jan must not hear
from you, nor see you, until a year from this day."
"Farewell, then, motherkin," said the child;
"farewell for a long, long year. By the carved
pulpit in Saint Andrew's, in a twelvemonth "
They took their farewells then and there, lest
old Jan should suspect them, if they were crying
toward evening.
At night-fall, as the barge approached the lock
again, after its station near a market all day, the
mother went on shore to get a pail of clear water;
old Jan followed her, storming and threatening, as
she knew he would, because supper for the work-
men was not ready. The boy took the little bag
of clothes and the money which his mother had
prepared for him ; as the boat grazed the side of
the lock he jumped out, and was speedily lost to
view in the crowd.
Two hours later, he had been received at the




house of Gasker Willems, in the little street near
St. Andrew's Church. He slept in an old carven
bedstead, whose head-board was a pictured history
of the destruction of Pharaoh's host, whose feet
were griffins' claws, whose curtain-posts were lovely
angels with uplifted faces-angels whose very silence
seemed eternally to praise God.
A year brought sad changes to old Jan Kam-
merick. At first, when he learned of his son's
flight, he ascribed it to meddlesome neighbors,
and his rage knew no bounds. He stoutly insisted
that he would never try to bring back the vaga-
bond wood-hacker. He would not hear the boy's
name spoken. Sometimes, when he saw that the
mother looked paler than was her wont, and that
she wept silently when she was polishing her pots
and kettles, his conscience smote him. But he
would never have been really sorry if misfortune
had not come upon him. One of his bargemen,
whom he had once beaten, scuttled the barge and
fled. Jan and his wife had a narrow escape from
drowning, and, had it not been for friendly aid,
would have lost all their pots and kettles. Young
Jan had been sent away to Brussels by the good
Gasker Willems, a few days before'this, and knew
nothing of it until many days afterward. He was
busy with his art, in which he made astonishing
The next misfortune which befell old Jan was
the loss of his little house on the banks of the
Scheldt. A fire burned out the interior, and
cracked the stone walls. Old Jan had not money
enough to rebuild it. Then his limbs began to fail
him; they shook and trembled. The neighbors
said: It is because he kicked and beat his son !"
And old Jan himself began to be very much of
their opinion. He had now only a small barge;
was obliged always to live in it, and was very poor
and discouraged. Sometimes his heart was soft-
ened toward his patient wife, and he would say:
You will be the first to be killed by my poverty.
It would have been better for you if I never had
seen you in St. Andrew's Church."
Then she would answer: "No, indeed Our
fortune is yet to come out of that church, Jan."
She said this so often, and with such emphasis,
that one day he looked at her curiously and said:
"Why, Anneken, what do you mean ? "
"To-morrow," she answered, "we shall see.
Jan, it is many a year since we have taken a holi-
day. We are as good as the rest of the world;
let us live our youth over again; let us stay in
Antwerp, and at sunset to-morrow let us visit St.
Andrew's Church, and stand by the carven pulpit
where -"

"Stuff!" the old man was saying, when the
mother put her hand upon his mouth. He no
longer threatened or beat her; his punishments
had sobered him; his heart almost yearned for his
lost son.
"By the carven pulpit," continued the mother,
where we may say a prayer for our lost son."
"Well, if you will have it so, Anneken," he
answered, almost gently.

In the Netherlands there are many churches
filled with rare and exquisite carvings, with altar-
pieces, shrines, pulpits, choirs, vestries, fonts, and
sacristies laden with a wealth of intricate work,
done in wood by skillful hands; and in Antwerp
the richest specimens of this curious labor are to
be found. In the great Cathedral of St. Jacques,
where Peter Paul Rubens, the painter, lies buried,
there are hundreds of rich and fantastic carvings,
out of which the fancies of the elder artists peer
curiously at the prosaic present. Sometimes the
birds are a little too odd to be real, the dragons
.are almost too funny for a cathedral, and the flowers
and leaves are not constructed strictly in accord-
ance with botany; but, on the whole, you feel that
if things in nature are not like those in the carv-
ings, they at least ought to be-so charming, so
droll, so satisfactory are they !
In St. Andrew's Church, of which young Jan's
mother had so many tender memories, stands a
large carven pulpit, of a peculiarly daring design
for artists who work in wood. It represents a rocky
crag near the sea-shore. Just beneath the crag
lies a fishing-boat, in which stand the figures of the
apostles Andrew and Peter. Behind them, on the
right, their fishing-nets hang upon a tree. The
apostles are looking earnestly at a figure of the
Saviour, which stands in an attitude as if beckon-
ing them; as if saying, "Follow me, and I will
make ye fishers of men." Two of the cleverest
artists in the Netherlands gave much time and
talent to this delightful carving. Van Hool did
the foliage, the nets, the rocks; Van Gheel the
figures of the apostles and the Saviour.' The latter
figure seems to have genuine inspiration in it; the
sculptor has wrought marvelously, bringing effects
out of stubborn wood rarely obtained before.
When evening light-the last ray of the declining
sun, reflected through the stained glasses of the
church, and softened to the delicacy of summer
twilight-falls gently upon this group, the sacred
figures seem to have all the supreme finish of
marble,-nay more, they appear to live !

So thought the good mother Anneken, as on the
appointed day, one year from the time when she
had sent forth her child into the world to give his




genius scope, and to escape from his hard-hearted
father, she led the feeble and now quite subdued
old Jan Kammerick into St. Andrew's Church.
As the couple came in view of the pulpit, memo-
ries,' endearing and solemn, came to them; the
specters of their vanished youth rose up before
them, not in mocking shape, but as good spirits,
come to cheer them on the path of life. Old Jan
remembered how he had seen the fair maiden
standing near the pulpit, with her hands folded,
and her eyes closed in prayer, and how he had
sworn to win her for his wife. He was glad he had
come into the church, and then-he thought of
his son.
At that moment there was a joyful cry from the
mother, and young Jan, wonderfully improved in
voice, in manner, and in health, rushed into her
arms. A hundred kisses, and half a hundred
words sufficed for them; for the good little mother
had kept herself informed of all her son's progress,
through the medium of old Gasker Willems. But
the father, was astonished beyond measure. He
stepped back, trembling; and, shading his eyes
with his hands, he looked long at the youth.
Heyday, son !" he said; we thought we had
lost you But here you are back again, and no
word of repentance?"
Old Jan tried to be severe, but his voice soft-
ened at every word.
Father," said the youth, I bring you a peace-
Just then Gasker Willems came hobbling up,
bearing a large box, which he placed upon the
cathedral floor. Young Jan opened it, and took
from it a piece of wood carving.
Quickly said Gasker Willems, after he had
been greeted; look at this before the beadle sees
us, for it is a time when many stroll into the church.
Quickly, and then let us all go to my house."
Young Jan stepped to a point near the pulpit,
where the light still fell with some sharpness, and

held up the carving. Then the astonished parents
saw that it was an exact reproduction, on a tiny
scale, but done with surpassing finish, of the pulpit
before which they stood at that instant. But this
was not all. In front of the miniature pulpit,
stood a maiden, with eyes downcast, and hands
folded in prayer; and near her, watching her rev-
erently, with parted lips and expectant air, was a
brave young bargeman, exactly like those one may
see every day on the Scheldt. In this carving
old Jan and his wife saw the story of their first
meeting told, as the mother had so often told it
to her son.
"Father," said the youth, "this, and another
like it, have been my year's work. The fellow to
this has been sold to a prince for a large sum of
money; and the prince wishes to help me to study
until I can help myself more. But I shall not
need him; and neither mother nor you will ever
work more, for the prince's bounty, with my future
work, will be enough for us all. Father, will you
take my offering?"
Old Jan bowed his head, and took the carving.
He set it down upon the cathedral floor, and took
his son to his arms.
"I was an old brute," he said; how did I ever
become such a scoundrel ?"
On the way to Gasker Willems', where the party
took supper, the good mother'told the husband
of her stratagem to help her child. Old Jan said
but this: "A good wife is a good thing; but I
have not merited one "
Gasker Willems, who was bringing up the rear
with the carving in his arms, said:
Say, rather, that you have merited nothing,
like the rest of us; but that God is good, and
moves in mysterious ways; and that your tough
heart could only have been softened by the strata-
gem which He sent into the mother's mind !"
"Well, well !" said old Jan, "I must try and
get grace enough to thank Him properly."

A MILLION little diamonds
Twinkled on the trees;
And all the little maidens said:
"A jewel, if you please!"
But while they held their hands outstretched,
To catch the diamonds gay,
A million little sunbeams came,
And stole them all away.




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(Translated from the French of M. BhDOLLIERRE.)




h fl e // rHE steward, one
S /: // evening, ordered
Faribole to come
to his chamber,
and after closing
the door care-
fully and assur-
ing himself that
no one was list-
ening, he said:
Moumouth is
your friend; you
have followed my recommendations exactly."
I shall remain in the house-is it not so?"
"Probably. You find yourself very well here ?"
"Without doubt I, who lived on black bread,
I make four good meals a day. I had a wretched
blouse, full of holes, and patched trousers, and now
I am dressed like a prince. I suffer no more from
cold, and, instead of lying out under the stars, I
go to sleep every night in a comfortable bed, where
I dream of gingerbread and fruit-cake."
Father Lustucru rested his chin on the palm of
his right hand, and, fixing his piercing eyes upon
Faribole, said to him:
"Suppose you were obliged to take up again
with the vagabond life from which I lifted you ?"
I believe I should die with shame "

)I ( II


Then you would do anything to preserve your
present position ?"
I would do anything."
"Anything, absolutely."

Very well. Now, this is what I demand of
you imperatively; Moumouth follows you ".. Ili ,igi ;
to-morrow, just at night-fall, you will lead him into
the garden; you will put him into a sack which I
have made expressly, and tightly draw the cords of
the sack "
"And then?" said Faribole, who opened his
eyes wide.
We will each arm us with a stick, and we will
beat upon the sack until he is dead."
"Never! never !" cried the poor boy, whose
hair stood up with fright.

"Then pack your bundle quickly, and be off; I
turn you away "
"You turn me away!" repeated young Fari-
bole, lifting up his hands to the sky.
I do not give you five minutes to be gone; you
depend upon me here, solely on me."
The unhappy Faribole began to weep, and the
steward added, in a savage voice:
Come, now! no faces! Take off your clothes,
and put on your rags, and disappear!"
Having pronounced these words, Lustucru took
from a closet the miserable vestments which Fari-
bole had worn the day of his installation. The
steward seized them disdainfully between his thumb
and forefinger, and threw them upon the floor.
The boy looked with an air of despair at the
habits he had'on, compared them with those which
he was obliged to resume, and the comparison was
so little to the advantage of the latter, that he
broke into loud sobs.
However, he was decided not to purchase hand-
some clothes at the price of a perfidy and a horri-




ble murder. He resolutely threw off his vest,
then his neckerchief; but at the idea of giving up
his new shoes, of walking barefoot, as formerly,
over roads paved with gravel and broken glass,
the luckless Faribole had a moment of hesitation.
Father Lustucru, who
observed him closely,
profited by this circum-
stance with consummate
Foolish fellow !" said
he; "you refuse happi-
ness when it would be so
easy for you to retain it.
If I proposed to you the
death of a man, I could
understand, I could even
-7 approve of your scruples;
but I propose that of a
"ONLY ONE IS KEPT-THE REST cat-a simple cat What
do you find in that so
terrible? What is a cat? Nothing-less than
nothing; one does n't attach the least value to the
lives of cats. Inn-keepers give them to their cus-
tomers to eat; the most celebrated surgeons mas-
sacre them in making certain experiments. Cats
are thought so little of, that when a litter of six or
seven are born, only one is kept; the rest are
tossed into the river."
But Moumouth is large, Moumouth is fully
grown," sald Faribole in a plaintive tone; "and
then, you do not know, I love him."
You love him you dare to love him cried
the steward with inexpressible rage. Very well!
I-I detest him, and I wish his death!"
But what has he done to you, then ?"
What business is that to you ? I desire his
death, and that's enough."
Mercy for him!" cried Faribole, throwing him-
self at the feet ofhard-
hearted Lustucru.
No mercy !" re-
plied Lustucru, hiss-
ing the words through
his clenched teeth.
No mercy, neither
for him nor for you.
Get up, depart, be off
this very instant It
rains in torrents; you
will be drenched, you
will die of cold this
night,-so much the
better "
"GET UPI DEPART! better!
A beating rain, mix-
ed with hailstones, pattered against the window-
panes, and the wind swept with a mournful sound

through the halls of the house. Then poor Fari-
bole thought of the cold that would seize him, of
the privations which awaited him, of his few re-
sources, of his immense appetite, and how disagree-
able it was to sleep on the damp earth. His evil
genius took possession of him, and whispered into
his ear these words of Father Lustucru: "What
is a cat? "
Monsieur Lustucru," said he, weeping, do
not send me away, I will do all that you wish."
"To-morrow, at night-fall, you will lead Mou-
mouth into the garden ? "
"Yes, Monsieur Lustucru."
You will put him in this sack? "
"Yes, Monsieur Lustucru."
And you will beat it with me?"
The response to this question was long coming;
Faribole turned pale, his legs bent under him;
finally he bowed his head, letting his arms droop
at his sides, as if he had sunk under the weight of
his destiny, and murmured, in a stifled voice:
Yes, Monsieur Lustucru."



USTUCRU had fixed the fol-
lowing day for the cruel
execution of Moumouth
-for he knew that
S Mother Michel on that
day was to carry to the
express office a package
Sm destined for her sister.
All the forenoon and
SU afternoon Faribole was
plunged in the darkest
despondency, and when the fatal hour sounded, he
was assailed by the irresolutions of the previous
day. When Mother Michel, before going out, said
to him, "I leave Moumouth in your charge; you
must take care of him, and make him play, so that
he will not fret too much during my absence," the
poor lad felt his heart fail, and his natural loyalty
"Come, we have not a minute to lose," said
Father Lustucru to Faribole; "here is the sack;
go look for the beast! "
Faribole once more appealed to the pity of the
steward; he was eloquent, he had tears in his
voice, he pronounced a most touching plea, but
without being able to gain his cause. The execu-
tioner was immovable; he insisted on the death of






"I am obliged to post-
pone my walk, for I have
seen Madam de la Gre-
nouillere's carriage com-
ing; it turned out of its
way on account of the re-
pairs being made in the
street. By re-entering
through the garden I was

vance. Come, Monsieur
Lustucru, let us hasten to
receive our good mistress."
"I am with you, mad-
am," said the steward;
Sbthen, making a speaking-
trumpet of his hand, he
e cried to Faribole:
SStrike all alone strike
S e until the cat has ceased to
fc ws movee" and he rejoined
ae s r,, Mother Michel in the
S court, where the domestics
-- -,. r- were drawn up in a line
like a well-drilled battalion.
carriage Madam de la Gre-
the cat; and the boy, overpowered by this evil nouillkre honored her servitors with a benevolent
spirit, saw himself forced to obey. glance, embraced Mother Michel with touching
Moumouth allowed himself to be enticed into the familiarity, and demanded news of Moumouth.
garden ; he followed his treacherous friend with the Your protI6g is wonderfully well," said Mother
confidence of the lamb following the butcher, and, Michel, he grows fatter and handsomer under
at the very moment when he least thought of'it, he our very eyes; but it may be said, without injury
found himself fastened in the sack that was to be to the truth, that his moral qualities are even be-
his tomb. Lustucru, who was hiding, appeared sud- yond his physical charms."
denly, bearing two enormous cudgels; he handed Poor friend, if he does not love me he will be
one to his accomplice, and taking hold of the sack, a monster of ingratitude, for since our separation I
cried: Now !-to work, and no quarter! have thought of him constantly; Heaven has taken
Faribole heard him not; the boy was struck with
stupor-his eyes rolled wildly in their sockets, his
face was livid, his mouth open, his arms without
Father Lustucru, animated by the nearness of
his vengeance, did not remark what passed in the
mind of his companion. Having thrown the sack
rudely on the ground, the steward lifted his cudgel,
and was about to strike when the small door of the
garden opened.
How unfortunate 1" he muttered; Faribole,
hide yourself in the hedge; I will come back here
He approached the person who had entered, and
halted, petrified with amazement, on beholding
Mother Michel. He imagined at first that she had Q
been brought back by some vague suspicion, by
some presentiment; but he recovered himself, hear-


away many beings that were dear to me, but Mou-
mouth will be the consolation of my old age "


As soon as the Countess had given the orders
which her arrival made necessary, she prayed
Mother Michel to fetch Moumouth.
He will be charmed to see you again, madam,"
Mother Michel answered; he is in the garden in
the care of Faribole, a little young man whom your
steward judged proper to admit to the house; the
young rogue and the cat have become a pair of
intimate friends."
Mother Michel went down to the garden and
there found Faribole alone, seated upon a bench,
and with a preoccupied air stripping the leaves
from a branch of boxwood which he held in his
My friend," said the good woman, Madam
the Countess desires you to bring Moumouth to
Mou-mouth stammered Faribole, starting
at the name as if he had been stung by a wasp.
Yes, Moumouth; I thought he was with you."
He just quitted
me; some persons
passing in the street
made a noise that
frightened him, and
he leaped into the
i." hedge."'
Sl "' Mother Michel,
after having spent
more than half an
hour in scouring the
garden, returned to Madam de la Grenouillere,
and said: Moumouth is absent, madam; but do
not be anxious; he disappeared once before, and
we found him in the garret."

Let him be searched for! I do not wish to
wait. I desire to see him this instant "
Alas this desire was not likely to be gratified,
if any reliance could be placed upon the words ex-
changed in the dark between Lustucru and his
Well, did you do it?"
"Yes, Monsieur Lustucru, I pounded until the
cat ceased to move."
"What have you done with the body?"
I have thrown it into the Seine."
"Was he quite dead ?"
He did n't stir."
Anyway, the sack was securely fastened. Jus-
tice is done "

EVERAL days passed in
painful expectation; but
the cat, like General
Marlborough, did not
come back. The despair
of Madam de la Gre-
nouillre was sincere,
profound, and silent,-
all the more intense be-
cause it was suppressed.
She continually pictured
to herself the charm-
ing ways of Moumouth,
his natural goodness, his superior intelligence. No
animal had ever displayed to her so many brilliant
qualities; not one of her previous favorites had
ever caused her such bitter regrets.
Generous in her misfortune, she did not reproach
Mother Michel; on the contrary, the Countess
sought to comfort that poor woman, who had given
herself up wholly to grief. The Countess said to
her one night:
What can you do against an irresistible calam-
ity ? The wisdom of man consists not in struggling
with unhappiness, but in submitting himself to the
will of Heaven."
I am of your opinion," replied Mother Michel.
"If I believed, like you, in the death of Moumouth,
I would resign myself without a murmur. But I
have the idea that he still lives ; I picture him run-
ning through the streets, the victim of ill treat-
ment, with saucepans, may be --"
Go to, Mother Michel, you deceive yourself;
Moumouth is dead, otherwise he would have come
back to us."
Something tells me that he is still in this world,
and if Madam the Countess wishes to have tidings.
of him, she has only to address herself "






To whom?"
To our neighbor, Madam Bradamor, that cele-
brated fortune-teller, who predicts the future, re-
moves freckles, reads in the Book of Destinies, and
-charms away the toothache."
Fie, Mother Michel! how can you, a sensible
woman, have any confidence in the juggling of an
.adventuress ?"
"But, madam, I am not alone; the most dis-
tinguished people go to Madam Bradamor; she is
more learned and less dear than her rivals, and
.asks only ten crowns to make you behold the devil
Enough, for pity's sake responded the Coun-
tess, dryly.
Mother Michel remained silent; but she had
made up her mind, and, the first time she had a
moment of liberty, she ran to the house of the
The fortune-teller occupied a spacious apartment
richly furnished, for she gained a great deal of
money by cheating the public. Her consultation-
room was draped with hangings of black velvet
:sprinkled with gilt stars; upon a square table, in
the center of the chamber, stood painted' tin obe-
lisks, jars of electricity, retorts, and divers mathe-
matical instruments, of whose uses the pretended
:sorceress was quite ignorant, but which she had
placed there in order to impose on the weak-minded
persons who came to consult her.

She at first showed some embarrassment on
beholding Mother Michel; however, after having
closed a glass door which communicated with the
other apartments, she returned to salute her new
client, and said in a solemn tone:
"What is your desire ?"
To question the present, the past, and the
"I am the very one to satisfy you," replied
Madam Bradamor; "but what you demand is
very difficult, and will cost you three crowns."
There they are; I give them to you with all
my heart."
Madam Bradamor, full of regret that she had
not insisted on having more, pocketed the money,
and began in these terms:
"What is the date of your birth?"
"The 24th of May, -698."
"What are the initials of your name and the
first letter of the place in which you were born ?"
"A, R, M, N, L, S."
Madam Michel was named Anastasie Ravegot;
the widow, since twelve years, of Frangois Michel,
in life inspector of butter in the Paris markets;
she was born in Noisy-le-Sec.
What is your favorite flower ?"
"The Jerusalem artichoke."
After these customary questions, the fortune-tel-
ler examined some coffee-grounds poured into a
saucer, and said:
"Phaldarus, the genie of things unknown, in-
forms me that you are in search of a being very
dear to you."
Mother Michel bounded in her chair with sur-







prise. Madam Bradamor continued : This being
is not a man; it is a quadruped-either a dog or
a cat. Ariel, spirit celestial, reveals to me that it is
a cat."
Mother Michel was more and more impressed;
without giving her time to recover herself, the for-


tune-teller took a pack of cards, shuffled them, cut
them three times, then disposed them in a system-
atic order on the table, and said gravely :
Your cat is the knave of clubs; let us see what
happens to him. One, two, three, four; ten of
spades He is a wanderer, he has a passion for
travel, he sets out at night to see the curiosities of
Paris. One, two, three, four; the queen of spades!
It is a woman who manufactures ermine fur out of
cat-skin. One, two, three, four; the knave of
spades! It is a rag-picker. One, two, three,
four; the king of spades! It is a restaurant-keeper.
The falling together of these three persons alarms
me. One, two, three, four,-clubs! One, two,
three, four,-clubs again! One, two, three, four,
-always clubs. Your cat would bring money to
these three persons: the rag-picker wishes to kill
him in order to sell the skin to the furrier, and the
body to the restaurant-keeper, who will serve it up
to his customers as stewed rabbit. Will the cat be
able to resist his persecutors? One, two, three,
four; seven of spades! It is all over, madam;
your cat no longer exists !"'
They have eaten him, the cannibals cried
Mother Michel, sinking back, and she fancied she
heard a plaintive miau, the last agonized cry of
Moumouth. But it was not an illusion; a cat had
miaued, and was still miauing in the next chamber.
Suddenly a pane of glass in the door described was
shivered to atoms, and Moumouth in person tum-
bled at the feet of Mother Michel.
From the top of a wardrobe he had perceived his

affectionate guardian; he had called to her several
times, and as she did not answer him, he had thrown
himself, in his desperation, against the 'glass door,
through which he had broken a passage.
My cat was with you said Mother Michel;
"you have stolen him My mistress is powerful;
my mistress is the Countess Yolande de la Gre-
nouillere; she will have you chastised as you de-
serve to be "
While making these threats Mother Michel
placed Moumouth under her arm, and prepared to
depart. Madam Bradamor stopped her, saying:
"Do not ruin me, I conjure you I have not
stolen your cat "
How is it in your house then?"
I have it from a little boy named Faribole; he
got this cat for me, which I have long desired to
have, on account of his supernatural shape and
appearance, to figure in my cabalistic conjurations.
This is the truth, the whole truth. I beg of you
that your mistress will not disturb me."
Madam the Countess will act as she thinks
proper," responded Mother Michel, haughtily;
and she vanished with her cat.
She made but one step from the house of Madam
Bradamor to that of Madam de la Grenouill&re;
one would have said that Mother Michel had on
the seven-league boots of little Tom Thumb. She
did not linger in the parlor, when she arrived out
of breath and unable to speak a word,-but carried
Moumouth straight to the Countess.
On recognizing the animal, the Countess gave so


loud a cry of joy that it was heard as far as the
Place de la Carrousel.
Lustucru assisted at this touching scene. At the



,ii ''ii






sight of the cat he was so dumbfounded that his
reason wavered for a moment. He imagined that
the cat, so many times saved, was a fantastic being,
capable of speaking, like the beasts in the fairy-
tales, and he said to himself with a shiver: I am
lost Moumouth is going to denounce me !"

S SOON as Madam de la Gre-
nouillere learned how Mou-
mouth had been recovered,
she ordered young Fari-
bole to be brought be-
fore her.
I'll go and look him
up," said Father Lustucru, with alacrity. He was
very anxious to warn his accomplice, and sought
an excuse to steal off.
No, remain You have admitted him to the
mansion, you shall see him turned away, and will
learn to bestow your confidence more wisely in
Lustucru remained, and, recovering from his first
stupor, resolved to boldly deny : : i-';. if Fari-
bole should dare to accuse him.
Introduced into the parlor, Faribole did not wait
to be interrogated.
Madam the Countess," said he, "the presence
of your cat tells me why you have called me; but

I am less guilty than I appear; permit me to ex-
It is useless," replied Madam de la Grenouil-
lere; your justification is impossible."
The steward, believing it best to play abold game,
said with irony:
1 am curious to know what unlikely story this
rogue has to tell," and in accenting these words
slowly he gave Faribole a glance which signified:
"If you accuse me, woe to you "
Without allowing himself to be confused, Fari-
bole commenced in these terms:
It is necessary to avow it, madam; I entered
into your service with the intention of stealing
your cat; the fortune-teller wished to have him, to
make him play the part of the devil Astaroth;
and she had seduced me by the promise of a crown
of six livres and a pair of shoes. They treated
me so well, and Moumouth appeared to me so
charming, that I renounced my wicked plans; I
never, no, never would have put them into execu-
tion, if I had not found it was necessary to get
Moumouth out of the way in order to rescue him
from the attacks of an enemy all the more terrible
because he was hidden."
Of whom does he wish to speak ? demanded
Of you of you who have said to me, Kill
Moumouth, or I chase you from the house !'"
I, I have said that what an impudent false-
hood Ah, Madam the Countess, you know me
well enough not to hesitate between the declara-
tions of this fellow and my flat denial."






Faribole," said the Countess severely, "your
charge is grave; can you bring any proof to sup-
port it ?"
"Proof, alas! no, madam; but I am ready to
sweat to you-- "
Enough," interrupted the Countess; "do not
add calumny to the theft of the cat, but deliver me
of your presence."
The miserable Faribole wished to protest, but at
a sign from Madam de la Grenouillere, Lustucru
seized him by the arm, led him through the door
without further ceremony, and treated him in so
rough a manner on the staircase as to quite relieve
him of any idea of asking for his personal effects.
However, the iniquities of the steward were not
to remain long unpunished; that same day, Mother
Michel, in arranging the closet in the antechamber,
was very much astonished at finding the bodies
of several dead rats and mice; she was wonder-
ing what had caused their death, when she recog-
nized the famous hash that the cat had refused to
eat, and which had. been left there by mistake.
Two mice were dead in the plate itself-so power-
ful and subtile was the poison !
This discovery tore away the veil which covered
the past of Lustucru. Mother Michel, divining
that the charges of Faribole were well founded,
hastened to inform Madam de la Grenouillere, who
recommended her to keep silent, and sent for the

Have you still the death to rats ?'" she asked
Yes, madam, I think I have a little left."
Some should be placed in the antechamber;
you have not thought of that before ? "
"Never, madam; I did not know there were
rats in that part of the house."
"Very well; you can retire."
Madam de la Grenouillere wrote to a celebrated
chemist, who, after having analyzed the hash,
declared that it contained a prodigious quantity of

The crime of Lustucru was then evident; but
other proofs were not
long in rising against
him. The advent-
ure of Croquemouche
and Guignolet was
talked about among
the boatmen; Fari-
bole heard the story \.,
from one of them, and
discovered a person ,
who had seen Lustu-
cru throw Moumouth
from the bridge of
The steward, con- THE STAIRCASE,
founded, did not wait to be discharged; he fled,
and, to escape the vengeance of Madam de la



Grenouill&re, embarked as cook on board of a
merchant vessel bound for Oceanica.
It was afterward learned that this ship had been
wrecked on the Sandwich Islands, and that the
savages had eaten Lus-
.. tucru. History records
that at the moment of
S expiring he pronounced
i but a single word, the
name of Moumouth!
SWhat was it that
e brought this name to
the lips of the guilty
or was it the last explo-
sion of an unforgiving hatred? This is what his-
tory has neglected to inform us.
The health of Madam de la Grenouillire had
been altered by the heavy shocks she had experi-
enced in losing her favorite animals. The tender-
ness and graces of Moumouth would perhaps have
been sufficient to attach her to life; but the respect-
able lady had reached an age when sorrows press

of all her lovable qualities, that one would have
believed she slept. She was nearly in her seventy-
ninth year.
By her will, which she had deposited with her
lawyer, she had left
to Moumouth and
Mother Michel an
income of two thou-
sand lives, to re-
vert, in case of the
death of either, to
the survivor. -
Mother Michel
took up her resi- LUSTUCRO FLES.
dence near her sis-
ter, provided handsomely for all the children, and
selected for her own retreat a pretty cottage situ-
ated in Low-Breton upon the banks of the river
among the green trees.
Faribole, received again into the service of Ma-
dam de la Grenouill&re, conducted himself so well
that his transient error was forgotten. He would
have been able to distinguish himself in the kitchen,





very heavily. Mother Michel had the grief, one
morning, to find the Countess dead in her bed:
her face was so calm and bore so plainly the impress

but he preferred to serve the State, and enlisted at
the age of sixteen in an infantry regiment. He
took part in the expedition against Majorca tinder







the command of Marshal Richelieu, and was named
corporal after the capture of Port-Mahon, June the
29th, 1756. When he obtained his discharge, he
returned to live near Mother Michel, for whom he
had an affection truly filial. To the agitations of
their existence succeeded calm and happy days,
embellished by the constantly increasing graces of
Our cat henceforth was without an enemy; he
won, on the contrary, the esteem and affection of
all who knew him. His adventures had made him
quite famous. Besides the ballad,-of which, unfor-
tunately, only two couplets have been preserved,-
the poets of the period wrote in his honor a large
number of verses that have not come down to us.
He received visits from the most distinguished men
of the time, even from the King himself, who once,
on his way to the Chateau of Bellevue, dropped in
for a moment on Moumouth.
A grand lady of the court condescended to choose
for Moumouth a very gentle and very pretty com-
panion, whom he accepted with gratitude. In see-

You wish to know what finally became of Mou-
mouth ? He died,-but it was not until after a
long and joyous career. His eyes, in closing,
looked with sweet satisfaction upon groups of

Z "q '' :

S -- ... .

weeping children and grandchildren. His mortal
remains were not treated like those of ordinary
cats. Mother Michel had built for him a magnifi-
cent mausoleum of white marble. Following a
custom then adopted at the burial of all illustrious


'--- 'T



ing himself a father Moumouth's happiness was at
its highest, as was also that of Mother Michel, who
felt that she lived again in the posterity of her cat.

personages, they engraved upon the tomb of Mou-
mouth an epitaph in Latin, composed by a learned
professor bf the University of Paris.





S(Grandfather's Story.)


WHAT! you want to hear a story all about that old-time glory,
When your grandsires fought for freedom against the British crown;
When King George's red-coats mustered all their forces, to be flustered
By our Yankee raw recruits, from each village and each town;

And the very boys protested, when they thought their rights molested?
My father used to tell us how the British General stared
With a curious, dazed expression when the youngsters in procession
Filed before him in a column, not a whit put out or scared.

*L ~ I. 1~1


Then the leader told his story,-told the haughty, handsome Tory
How his troops there, on the mall there (what you call "the common," dears),
All the winter through had vexed them, meddled with them and perplexed them,
Flinging back to their remonstrance only laughter, threats, and sneers.

" What!" the General cried in wonder,-and his tones were tones of thunder,-
"Are these the rebel lessons that your fathers taught you, pray?
Did they send such lads as you here, to make such bold ado here,
And flout King George's officers upon the King's highway?"

Up the little leader started, while heat lightning flashed and darted
From his blue eyes, as he answered, stout of voice, with all his might:
" No one taught us, let me say, sir,-no one sent us here to-day, sir;
But we're Yankees, Yankees, Yankees, and the Yankees know their rights!






"And your soldiers at the first, sir, on the mall there, did their worst, sir;
Pulled our snow hills down we'd built there, broke the ice upon our pond.
'Help it, help it if you can, then !' back they answered every man then,
When we asked them, sir, to quit it; and we said, 'This goes beyond

"' Soldiers' rights or soldiers' orders, for we've kept within our borders
To the south'ard of the mall there, where we've always had our play!'"
Where you always shall hereafter, undisturbed by threats or laughter
From my officers or soldiers. Go, my brave boys, from this day

Troops of mine shall never harm you, never trouble or alarm you,"
Suddenly the British Gen'ral, moved with admiration, cried.
In a minute caps were swinging, five and twenty voices ringing
In a shout and cheer that summoned every neighbor far and wide.

And these neighbors told the story how the haughty, handsome Tory,
Bowing, smiling, hat in hand there, faced the little rebel band;
How he said, just then and after, half in .earnest, half in laughter:
"So it seems the very children strike for freedom in this land !"

So I tell you now the story all about that old-time glory,
As my father's father told it long and long ago to me;
How they met and had it out there, what he called their bloodless bout there;
How he felt- "What! was he there, then?" Why, the leader, that was he!



ON a dark December afternoon, when the days
were short and the winter at its hardest, a little
wailing infant, weakly from its birth, though born
Prince of Wales and heir to the most powerful of
European kingdoms, was born in Windsor Castle
in the year 1421 : Henry, only child of 'Henry V.,
the conqueror of the age, and grandson of Henry
IV., one of the most wise of English kings. He
himself was not destined to be either brave or wise
or fortunate. His mother, Katherine of France,
had been won at the sword's point; and the mar-
riage was supposed to give some claim of right to
the sovereignty of France, which Henry V. had got
by right of conquest before he married her. What
her own feelings were about it, or whether she
loved her bold English husband and her feeble
English baby well enough to be willing that her
brother should be disinherited for them, and her
country brought under a stranger's rule, no one
VOL. III.-37.

knows-for it is always difficult to make out what
the poor women felt about it, who have to take a
passive place in history and say nothing about what
they are .thinking. Anyhow, poor Katherine, one
would imagine, must have been sad enough in
those dull wintry days at Windsor-her husband
far off in France, fighting against her family and
her people, and doing all he could to crush out
every germ of freedom m the conquered country;
for in those days, and even in our own days, a man
may be very fond of freedom for himself and for
his own country, who is quite ready to call the love
of liberty rebellion in other people.
Henry V. was a patriotic and popular monarch,
doing everything he could to enrich England and
secure her peace by ruining her neighbor, as the
most of us have lived to see another great nation
do. But Henry did not succeed, and I hope the
other enemy of France will not succeed either.
He was far away in France, at his favorite work of
fighting, when he got the news of his son's birth-
his first and only child. It seems'that brave Henry


had in him some touch of superstition, as is not
very unusual with fighting men; and he did not
wish his child to be born at Windsor, no doubt
from some idea that it was unlucky or unwhole-
some. When he heard where the event had taken
place, he turned to his chamberlain, Lord Fitzhugh,
and gave vent to a dreary prophecy; I, Henry,
born at Monmouth, shall small time reign and
much get," said the foreboding King, "and Henry,
born at Windsor, shall long reign and all lose; but

old when his father died, and he in his swaddling
clothes became King of England; and the first
time that history shows us any glimpse of him is in
a strange, gorgeous scene which took place in the
September after his birth, when a procession of
splendid noblemen in all their robes of state,
bishops and archbishops, and all the great officials
of the country, came thronging into the Castle to
bring the Great Seal of England, the highest em-
blem of imperial authority, to the new monarch.

'/-.- Iii I

-' -I -

i I' \ii Ii':ilI, '



as God wills, so be it." This was Henry VI.'s wel-
come into this cold and wintry world. And, after
a while, his mother went away to France, and the
baby was left solitary in the great silent Castle; so
great and powerful, heir to two kingdoms, yet so
feeble and helpless and small. You cannot fancy
a greater difference than there was between this
poor little atom of humanity and his position; and
if he had died then in his cradle, or been suffered
to grow up among the grooms in the stable, a
humble servant of the King's household, one can-
not but think it would have been better for that last
Henry Plantagenet-better for England, and cer-
tainly better for him.
The poor little baby prince was but eight months

Poor little soul, in his nurse's arms There he sat
while all the fine people came in, carrying the Seal
in an embroidered bag, itself sealed by the Lord
Chancellor, that no one might tamper with it.
Perhaps the gold and the jewels, the ribbons of the
Garter, and the beautiful badge (of which I told you)
all wrought in enamel and gold,-the George,"
which all the Knights of the Garter wore, -dazzled
and delighted the baby. Or, perhaps, he only sat
and looked on with that solemnity which you see
in babies sometimes, as if, just newly arrived out
of heaven, they were too much above us to trouble
themselves about such trifles. It was at the
hour of vespers, when the bell was pealing from
St. George's Chapel, and all the chorister boys in




their white robes were streaming into the cool, dim
choir out of the slanting sunshine; and all about the
Castle the fair woods lay green, and the sun drop-
ping into the west made the long line of the Thames
into a shining, golden pathway. This outside;
and all the great lords within bowing and doing
homage, offering the Seal to the infant, handing it
back again with elaborate ceremonies, at which
perhaps in their hearts they did not know whether
to laugh or to weep ; for what could be more pitiful
than the thought that their great Harry whom
they loved, he of Agincourt, who had conquered
France, was lying dead, and that this was King
Henry of England-this speechless, unconscious
child ? I do not think there could have been a more
pathetic scene-though, indeed, you may call it
laughable, if you like. The great dukes, the
bishops who were princes, the Chancellor of Eng-
land, and all those splendid officers of state, kneel-
ing to kiss the baby's feeble fingers. The King's
Majesty,"-that is what they called him, though
he was but nine months old.
Poor little Henry staid at Windsor without mov'
ing, apparently, till he was nearly two years old.
His great father was brouglit sadly home and
buried in Westminster, and all the affairs of State
rolled on as usual, and laws were made and a
great many important matters settled in the child's
name. Our present lord, the King, with the ad-
vice and consent of his Council," is supposed to
have done a great many things of which he could
have known nothing; and it was he, nominally,
who set King James, his '"cousin of Scotland," free
after his long captivity. There is an account, in
an old chronicle of the time, of his baby naughti-
ness, put down very solemnly as if it had the high-
est meaning in it. His mother set out with him in
November, 1423, to open Parliament, as Queen
Victoria is just now, while I write, preparing to do.
Queen Victoria, however, can travel from Windsor
to Buckingham Palace in half an hour whenever
she pleases, whereas it was a long journey for
Queen Katherine and her baby. They started
upon a Saturday, and lodged that night at Staines,
a small town a few miles from Windsor. But next
day being Sunday, when the Queen's chair (in
which, I suppose, she was carried) was brought
out to continue the journey, "the Kyng shriked
and cryed and sprang, and wolde not be carried
forthere; wherefore he was borne again into the
inne, and there abode the Soneday al day "-for
who could venture to cross the King? On Mon-
day, however, you will be glad to hear, Henry's
temper improved, and he beynge then gladde
and merye," was carried off in triumph as far as
Kingston, where they rested for the night. Next
day brought them to Kennington, and on the

Wednesday they arrived in London, and "with a
glad sembland and mery chere, in his modyer's
arms in the chare, he rode through London to
Westminster," where, poor babe! the Kyng's
Majesty opened the great English Parliament the
next day. And of all those powerful, ambitious
lords, his uncles, of the same royal blood as him-
self, and those of the house of York, who were
afterward to dethrone him, not one endeavored then
to twitch the reins of State out of those little help-
less hands.
A little later there is a record that, being carried
into St. Paul's, he went upon his fete" from the
west door to the choir,--evidently quite a long walk
for the little fellow,-and that he kept his seat
"diverse daies in the Parliament." Imagine the
poor child, in his heavy dress all shining with gold
and jewels, and small forlorn, pale face, seated
there, frightened, no doubt, and weary, wondering
at the discussions and talk that were carried on
before him-most solitary of children, upon the
throne so much too big for him I am sure, if you
think of all that he had to go through in this way,
you will pity the baby King from the bottom of
your hearts.
It is more amusing, though, when he began- his
education, to find a special Act of Parliament in
his name, giving authority to the Earl of Warwick,
his governor," to whip him when necessary! I
do not suppose Henry had much to do with this,
but it had to be put in his name. If we are
negligent in learning, or commit any fault, or do
anything contrary to instructions of our said cousin,
we give him full power, authority, license, and
directions reasonably to chastise us from time to
time, according to his discretion, in the manner
that other princes of our age, as well in this king-
dom as in others, have hitherto been accustomed
to be chastised-without being impeached or mo-
lested by us or by any other person in future for so
doing." Let us hope that Warwick was not very
hard upon poor, gentle Harry, who loved learning,
and no doubt prepared all his lessons like the
meek and tranquil boy he was. It was a great
deal better, was it not, that he should be whipped
for his own faults than that he should have had, as
it is said James VI. of Scotland and I. of England
had-a "whipping-boy," who was punished when
his little master did wrong, and whose cries were
supposed to have the same effect upon the royal
sinner as if he had himself been whipped ? In
Henry's time, I suppose, such a clever idea had
not been thought of; so he was made to forgive
Earl Warwick beforehand for chastising him. He
was so gentle and so good that I believe he would
have forgiven him anyhow, and taken his punish-
ment very sweetly, if he had required any. How-




ever, whether he was punished or not, he was so
trained that he came to love learning and to do a
great deal for the education of his country. And
of this, as it was, perhaps, the only one successful
enterprise of his life, I will tell you now.
From the north side of the Castle, where stands
the Winchester Tower (of which you have here a
picture), and where now there is the fine terrace
which Queen Elizabeth made, you look down upon
a broad stretch of country spreading far away in
level lines rich with wood, and showing close at
hand, at the foot of the hill, a glimpse here and
there of the Thames as it travels downward to Lon-
don and to the sea. From this point, nowadays,
the most conspicuous object is the beautiful Chapel
of Eton, and the buildings of the college which is,
as I dare say you have heard, the chief public
school in England; and were you to visit Windsor
now, you would meet at every turn shoals of Eton
boys, in their black jackets and tall hats, walking
about in twos and threes in the streets, in the park,
on the terrace of the Castle, everywhere-and see
them on the river, and in the fields at play by hun-
dreds (but not in jackets and tall hats then).
When Henry VI. spent his own boyhood in
Windsor Castle, under Earl Warwick's charge,
there was no great college at Eton, but only a little
village half a mile off on the other side of the river,
lying peacefully with its red cottage roofs in the
sun, where young Henry at his lessons saw it every
day. Education had sunk low in England at that
time, and William of Wykeham (as I told you), he
who was once architect of Windsor Castle, had
founded the great school at Winchester, and a col-
lege in Oxford in which the Winchester boys could
finish their studies, not very long before, by way of
reviving learning in England, and training the new
generations to be more enlightened than the old.
Young Henry, as he grew to be a man, took more
interest in this than in tournaments and hunts and
feastings. "Uneasy lies the head that wears a
crown," his grandfather had said-or at least Shak-
speare said it for him; and when you think that
the crown had been heavy on Henry's brow since
ever he could remember, you will be less surprised
that his spirit had been crushed by it. I think he
must have been frightened in his very childhood
by the commotions of the world-the fighting in
France and the confusions at home, and .the blood-
shed and all the troubles. "He was fitter for a
cowl than a crown," says old Fuller, "and of so
easie a nature that he might well have exchanged
a pound of patience for an ounce of valor." You
must not despise him, however, for few of the
fighting men. have left behind them such a monu-
ment as did this patient Henry. He set his heart
upon establishing a school as Wykeham had done,

and, in addition to the school, a college where the
boys might be trained to be ripe scholars, and teach
others in their turn. Before he was nineteen he
went to Winchester to see the foundation there,
and how it was going on. Young men of nineteen
seldom took much interest in such undertakings in
those days, or indeed much later; and immediately
after he had made that inspection, he announced
his wish to found a similar school close to Windsor.
That he should have chosen Eton, the village which
lay under his windows, and where he could watch
every stone as it was laid, and see the buildings

rising day by day, was very natural; and years
before he is said to have begun planning for- his
great object, getting the parish church transferred
from the authority of the Bishop of Lincoln to
attach it to his new foundation, and buying up little
properties from the country folks about. Thus,
while he was bft a boy himself, he began to pro-
vide for English boys to countless generations. I
fear the lively Etonians would not have thought
very much of the gentle, weakly little King. They
would have said (and probably so would you boys

on the other side of the seas) that he was "not'
good at anything," and laughed at his plans and
quiet pleasures. But, you perceive, while all the
great soldiers and statesmen left little more than
troubles and wars between them, this boy King,




who was not good at anything, who could not fight,
and was not fit to make any noise in the world, has
left behind him an institution which is one of the
most flourishing in all England, which has had an
influence more or less upon the country for four
hundred years back, and which is now the greatest
school in the world.
In King Henry's days, however, there was no
education thought of except by the side, and under
the protection, of the Church; so that the very
center of the foundation was the chapel and the
little corporation belonging to it, who were to keep
up the worship of God without fail, which at that
time was supposed to be the only way of making
any undertaking blessed and prosperous-and I
think it was a very beautiful thought, and one
which we should all do very well to imitate still.
So the first thing Henry did was to secure for his
school-boys that great advantage. He estab-
lished," as an old historian says, "an honest col-
lege of sad priests, with a great number of children,
which he there of his cost frankly and freely taught
the rudiments and rules of grammar." You must
not think, however, that the expression sad
priests means anything very melancholy, like the
monks of La Trappe, for instance, who never say
anything to each other except, Brother, we must
die." All that was meant was, that these were
serious men, giving themselves gravely to their
work. They had nothing to do with the school,
which was to be taught by "one master in gram-
mar, who should gratuitously instruct the poor and
indigent scholars, and others coming there from
every part of the kingdom, in the knowledge of
letters, and especially in the art of grammar."
Besides the provost and fellows, priests, clerks,
and choristers," who were to maintain the daily
services, and the poor and indigent scholars,"
with their master, there was also a charitable estab-
lishment for "poor and infirm men." Thus, you
see, the buildings which Henry watched from his
windows were to be used for all the good deeds that
a man of his day could think, of-the worship of
God, the education of the young, and the relief
of the poor.
This was the first public act of the young King.
When his father, Henry, won that great battle at
Agincourt, which you can read of in Shakspeare
as well as in history, it made a great deal more
commotion in the world. That was Henry V.'s
way of beginning-in fire and flame, and warlike
glory; and if I must tell you so, I am obliged to
confess that I like that bold Harry, with all his
faults, better than the timid, patient son whom he
left behind him. But Henry V.'s conquest of
France came to nothing except heart-breaking wars
and bloodshed, and double bitterness between the

two nations France and England, which were ene-
mies for the reason which ought to have made
them friends-i. e. because they were close neigh-
bors. Henry VI.'s first act was done with no ex-
citement or glory about it, to make it look splendid
in the eyes of the world; but it has had very
different results. It has helped to keep up educa-
tion in England for all these centuries. It has
trained for us statesmen, philosophers, historians,
great lawyers, even great soldiers-for the Duke of
Wellington was an Eton boy; and at this present
moment it is greater, more active and flourishing
than ever-a living power in England, though
Agincourt for centuries past has been nothing but
a name.
This will show how the gentle and timid may be
greater conquerors sometimes than the boldest and
bravest. To do a startling, splendid feat for the
moment, and to do a quiet, worthy work which no
one remarks-which is best ? I do not expect you
to choose the last; and perhaps it is as well, while
you are young, that you should like the idea of
taking the world by storm, for that is very neces-
sary too. But let no one despise the meek Henry,
sitting there over his studies in his palace window,
and watching the new walls rise across the river on
that flat meadow land, where the trees grow to
such noble size, and the grass is so green. All
that he hoped for, I suppose, was that the bells
should jangle on for ever and ever, calling the
homely village folks and the poor scholars to God's
service, and that there for ever priests should pray
and poor boys learn. How could he tell that his
seventy poor scholars, with the one master in gram-
mar (and one usher afterward allowed to help him),
should grow and increase, until now there are more
nearly fifty ushers, and more than nine hundred
boys, to celebrate the memory of the pious founder,
whose statue stands in the quadrangle, and whose
recollection has been kept sacred through all these
While he was doing this, a great deal was going
on in the King's name in France, which you have
read in your histories. The Maid of Orleans, the
wonderful young saint and soldier, Jeanne (or, as
we call her, Joan) of Arc, had delivered France
and had fallen into English hands-alas that we
should have to say so !-and had been tortured and
burned in the old market-place at Rouen. Not
long ago, when I passed through that market-place,
I felt inclined to go down on my knees, among all
the people, and pray God to pardon England for
such a cruel deed. But they did not see things
then in the same light, and thought that noble and
.pure peasant-maiden was a bold madwoman. This
was done in King Henry's name, but it did not win
back France for him; and perhaps so great a




wickedness had something to do with the mis-
fortunes that befell him. The Duke of York, who
represented an elder branch of the house of Flan-
tagenet, thrust aside by King Henry IV. when he
seized the crown, took advantage of Henry VI.'s
weakness and made a terrible civil war, which, you
know, was called the War of the Roses-Henry
taking the red rose for his emblem, and York the
white. Both of the poor Roses were dyed red
enough with blood before that wicked war was
done; and our poor King Henry was dethroned,
and at last killed by his cousins. After his death,
however, so good and so patient and so holy had
he been, that the people made pilgrimages to his
tomb in St. George's Chapel, and paid honors to
him as a martyr; for the world always finds out
the good man in the end, though often too late to
give'any pleasure to him. He lies in his grave in
the Castle where he was born; and is Henry of
Windsor in history for ever.
Thus you see that no sadder life could be than
that of him who was a king in his cradle. He who
was so gentle, it was his fate to be tossed about con-
tinually among feuds and quarrels and rebellions,
all sorts of people struggling over him, though he
hated contention. And often he was sick in body

and often in mind; and his life and his reign are
little more than a muddle of confusion and misery,
helplessness, weakness, and final downfall. But
when, in the freshness of his youth, from the battle-
ments of the Castle on a summer evening, or at his
window on the wintry days, he looked across the
green country and planned out his beautiful chapel
and the lodgings for his poor scholars, and thought
with tender sympathy of all the books that would be
read there, and all the good men who might grow
up pure and peaceable to serve God and England,
I think the poor young King must have been happy
-happy as he never was again. Long after, when
happiness was over for Henry, if ever he met some
wandering pair of his school-boys about the Castle
yard or in the park, he would stop to ask their
names and talk kindly to the lads, "and, besides
his words, would give them money to win their
good-will, saying to them (in the only language
which was then thought worthy for learned men to
use), Sitis boni pueri: mites et docibiles et servi
Domini.' Be good boys,"-you shall translate
the rest for yourselves. But, you see, from gentle
King Henry downward, this is all we elders have
to say to you. Be good! and, whether you are
very happy or not, all will be well.



BRING her here, my little Alice-
Poor Jemima Brown !
Make the little cradle ready,
Softly lay her down.
Once she lived in ease and comfort,
Slept on couch of down;
Now upon the floor she's lying-
Poor Jemima Brown !

Once she was a lovely dolly,
Rosy-cheeked and fair,
With her eyes of brightest azure,
And her golden hair.
Now, alas! no hair's remaining
On her poor old crown;
And the crown itself is broken-
Poor Jemima Brown !

Once her legs were smooth and comely,
And her nose was straight;
And that arm, now hanging lonely,
Had, methinks, a mate.

Ah, she was as finely dressed as
Any doll in town.
Now she's old, forlorn and ragged-
Poor Jemima Brown!

Yet be kind to her, my Alice !
'T is no fault of hers
If her willful little mistress
Other dolls prefers.
Did she pull her pretty hair out?
Did she break her crown?
Did she tear her arms and legs off?
Poor Jemima Brown!

Little hands that did the mischief,
You must do your best
Now to give the poor old dolly
Comfortable rest.
So we'll make the cradle ready,
And we 'll lay her down;
And we'll ask papa to mend her-
Poor Jemima Brown !








7 f e WHEN the
S storks came,
the spring
came too. Till
then the skies
had been gray
and the air
w cold and raw,
while the leaf-buds
,. on the branches
seemed afraid to
peep from their cov-
erings. But when the call of the storks was heard,
and the click of their large white wings, the leaves
took courage, unrolled their woolly blankets, and
presently the trees were green. Soon other birds
came too. The doves went to housekeeping in their
cote under the peak of the roof-gable. Just be-
neath, a pair of swallows built a nest of plastered
clay: the cherry-tree in the garden was chosen as
home by a colony of lively sparrows. All the air
was astir with wings and songs, and the world,

which for months had seemed dead or asleep, waked
suddenly into life and motion.
"What a droll house Mother Stork seems to be
building said the saucy swallow, cocking up one
eye at the long-legged pair on the roof above. I
shouldn't like such an one at all. Sharp sticks
everywhere, no conveniences, great holes for eggs
to drop into and be broken. And how the wind
must blow up there! Give me a cosey place like
this of ours."
"Give me a nice, smooth wooden box," cooed
the dove. "I don't fancy plaster; it's damp and
rheumatic, my mate says. But you need n't worry
about Mother Stork's eggs. They're too large to
drop through the holes in the branches and be
"What coarse things they must be remarked
the swallow, looking complacently at the tiny
clouded spheres beneath her own wings.
They are big," agreed the dove. But, then,
Mother Stork is big too."
Listen to those absurd creatures! said Mother




Stork to her partner. "Coarse, indeed! My eggs!
I like that."
"Never mind them," replied Papa Stork, good-
humoredly, giving a crooked twig the final shove
to the side of the nest.
Below on the grass, which was still winter-brown,
three little children stood gazing wistfully up at the
They flew straight to bur roof," said Annchen.
"Frau Perl says that means good luck before the
year ends."
What does good luck mean?" asked Carl, the
youngest boy.
"It means-oh, all sorts of things," replied
Annchen, vaguely: That the mother should not
work so hard; that we should have plenty,-
plenty to eat every day,-and money, I suppose,-
and my new shoes I've waited for so long;-all
sorts of things.",
"Perhaps my father'll come back," suggested
Fritz, with a joyful leap.
Annchen shook her brown head. The boys were
too little to understand, but she knew well that the
father would never come back. She recollected
the day when he marched away with the other sol-
diers to fight the French. He had lifted her in his
arms. She had played with his beard and kissed
him, and Fritz had cried after the -'!.-.71 ..11 helmet-
spike, till at last the.father took the helmet off and
gave it him to play with. Then the drum-tap
sounded, and he had to go. The mother had
watched awhile from the window, andwhen she could
no longer see anything, had sat down to sob and
cry with her apron over her face. Annchen recol-
lected it perfectly, and that other dreadful day
when Corporal Spes of the same regiment had
come, with his arm tied up and a bandage round
his head, to tell how the father had been shot in
one of the battles before Paris, and buried in
French soil. I, .:. 1'. i,,. had been sad since.
There was less. black bread at dinner-time, less
soup in the pot, sometimes no soup at all, and
the mother worked all day and far into the night,
and cried -bitterly when she thought the children
were not looking. Annchen was too young to
comprehend the full cause of these tears, but she
felt the sadness; it was like a constant cloud over
her childish sun. Now the stork was come to their
roof, which all the neighbors said meant some-
thing good. Perhaps the happy days would begin
How I hope they will! she whispered to her-
"Hope who will?" asked the mother, passing
behind with an armful of wood.
Annchen felt abashed.
"The storks," she murmured. "Frau Perl said

when they build on a roof it brings good fortune
always." The mother sighed.
"There is no good fortune for us any more,"
she said, sadly. "Even the dear stork cannot undo
what is done."
"But aren't the storks lucky birds?" asked
Fritz. "Jan Stein said they were."
Ah, luck, luck answered the mother. "That
is a word only. People use it, but what does it
Is n't there any luck, then ? asked Annchen.
There is the good God, dear,-that is better,"
replied the mother, and carried her wood into the
"Jan said the stork was God's bird," observed
little Carl.
That's it," said Annchen, brightening. "God's
bird; and the good God may let the stork bring
us good fortune. Dear storkie, do If only you
would! "
Mamma Stork looked solemnly down on the chil-
dren, and wagged her head gravely up and down.
Annchen thought it was in answer to her appeal.
See, Fritz see, Carl! She says she will! "
The stork kept on nodding, and Annchen went
in to supper, feeling happy.
Days grew into weeks, and spring into full sum-
mer. The big eggs and the little eggs had in
turn cracked and given place to young birds, who
sat in the nests clamoring for food, and being fed,
caressed and kept warm by their mothers. At
first the nestlings were ugly, featherless creatures,
and seemed all beaks and appetites; but pres-
ently they began to grow, to put out plumage, and
become round and fat. Soon they could hop;
then they could flutter their wings; the air was
full of their calls and their swift-moving bodies.
Mother Stork's babies were white like herself,
and had long legs and big bills. The swallow
thought them awkward, and contrasted them
proudly with her own brisk, glancing brood; but
in Mother Stork's eyes they were perfect in every
way, and graceful as birds should be. The dove
thought the same of her plump squabs,-each
parent was entirely satisfied with the kind of child
which the Lord had sent her; and that was a
happy thing, was it not?
Summer was over, and now it was September,
but Annchen had not ceased to hope for the good
fortune which the stork's coming prophesied.
Each morning, when she woke, she ran to the
window to see if the lucky birds were still in the
nest. There they were, but nothing else hap-
pened, and the mother worked harder than ever,
and the black loaf grew smaller. Still Annchen
Do you notice what a kind bird the stork is?"




said the mother one night, as she was putting the
children to bed. She never gets tired of taking
care of her babies, nor beats them with her wings,
nor scolds them. Do you not love her for being
so amiable? "
"Sometimes the babies scold her," remarked
Fritz from his corner.
I don't think that is scolding. What they say
is, 'Mother, we are hungry. We want a fish or
a couple of young frogs; when will the father
bring them?' The little storks do not
like to wait for their dinners any more I.
than you children do. I heard once a i .
story about a good Mother Stork. Shall
I tell it you?"
"Oh, yes !" cried the children; but
the mother went first for her knitting-
work, for even at the twilight hour she .i
dared not let her fingers be idle for a '
"Once there was a Frau Stork," she
began, "who built a nest in the roof of
an old shed, and in it laid three blue
eggs. Presently out of the eggs came
three baby storks, large and hungry.
Then was Frau Stork very proud and
glad. All day she sat in the nest, keep- I
ing her little ones warm under her
feathers, while Papa Stork flew to and
fro, seeking places where were ponds A '
with fish and frogs; and these he fetched I J''!'l.
home in his beak, and with them fed his
brood, who sat always with open mouths il'
ready for anything good which should i,".'
come along.
"One day when Papa Stork was ab-
sent, and Mother Stork had hopped I'i.
from the nest to the roof, she heard a ,
crackling sound which she did not at all i'jJ, .
understand. Then the air grew thick I ,ll.'1
and smoky, and there was a smell of ';,!.,..
burning wood. The shed was on fire! "'
Frau Stork became uneasy, and called
loudly for her mate, but he was too far
away to hear her voice. Presently the smoke be-
came more dense, and a little red tongue of flame
crept through the thatch. When it felt the air it
grew large, swelled, and at last, like a fiery serpent,
darted at the nest and the screaming brood within."
Oh dear! oh dear !" cried the children, sit-
ting up in their beds. "What did the poor stork
She could easily have flown away, you know,"
continued the mother. "There were her strong
wings, which would have borne her faster than the
fire could follow. But she loved her babies too
well to leave them like that. She seized them with

her beak, and tried to drag them from the nest.
But they were too heavy, and flapped and strug-
gled, hindering her, for they did not understand
what she wished to do. The flames drew nearer,
the branches began to blaze. Then Mother Stork
took her usual place in the nest, gathered her
brood under her wings as if to shield them, bent
her poor head, and-"
Oh, she did n't burn up !-please don't say she
did! interrupted Annchen.

"Yes. When Papa Stork came from the pond
with a fresh fish in his beak, there was no roof
there, no nest, no little storks,-only a heap of
ashes and curling smoke. Frau Stork loved her
children too well to desert them, and they all died
There was silence for a minute or two. Annchen
was sobbing softly, and a suspicious sniff was
heard from the direction of Fritz's pillow.
I hope our stork wont burn up," said Carl,
"Yes,-because then she wont bring us good
luck, you know," added Fritz.




Do you think the stork has forgotten?" whis-
pered Annchen to her mother. "I 've waited and
waited for her so long that I'm tired. Do they
forget sometimes?"
She will have to bestir herself if she is to do
anything for us this year," said the mother; and
though her heart was heavy enough just then, she
smiled into Annchen's eager eyes. "Autumn is
here; the winter will come before long. Frau
Stork and her family may fly off any day."
I shall have to remind her," murmured Ann-
chen, sleepily.
She remembered this resolution next morning,
and went out into the yard. The day was chilly;
the blue sky, all dappled with gray, looked as if a
storm were coming. Mother Stork was alone on the
roof. Her young ones could fly now, and they
and their father were off somewhere together.
"Mother Stork," said Annchen, standing close
to the wall, and speaking in a loud, confidential
whisper, "you wont forget what you promised,
will you-that day when you nodded your head,
you know? The mother says you will fly away
soon, but please bring us our good luck first. Poor
mother works so hard and looks so pale, and
sometimes there is almost no dinner at all, and the
cold winter is coming, and I don't know what we
shall do, if you don't help us. Please do, Mother
Stork. We can't wait till you come again, it's
such a long time. Pray fetch oui good luck before
you go."
Mother Stork, perched on one leg on the roof's
*edge, nodded her head up and down, as if consid-
ering the point. Then she rose on her large
wings and flew away. Annchen marked her course
through the air, and her eyes grew large and eager
with delight.
She has gone to the fen !" she cried. That's
where she keeps it. Oh, the dear stork!"
"What is it? Who has gone where?" asked
the boys, running into the yard.
"Frau Stork," explained Annchen. ."I re-
minded her about it,-our good luck, you know,-
and she flew straight off to fetch it. She went to
the fen, the beautiful fen, where I went once with
the father-such a place! How I should like to go
there again You never saw such a place, boys!"
'" I want to go to the fen too," said Carl.
I wonder if we might! went on Annchen,
thoughtfully. It is n't so very far. I didn't get
tired at all that day when I went before. And we
could help Frau Stork, perhaps. I wonder if we
"I'll go in and ask the mother," said Fritz,
running to the door with an eager demand:
Mother, may we go for a walk,--Annchen, and
,Carl, and I? "

The mother, who was very busy, nodded.
Don't go too far," she called after him.
"Mother says we may," shouted Fritz, as he ran
again into the yard; and the children, overjoyed,
set forth at once.
It was quite a distance to the fen, but the road
was a plain one, and Annchen had no difficulty in
following it. When she went there before, not
only her father had been along, but Ernst the wood-
cutter, with his donkey; so, when tired, she had
rested herself by riding on top of the fagots. She
was three years older now, and the sturdy lads did
not mind the distance at all, but ran forward mer-
rily, encouraging each other to make haste.
The sun had broken through the clouds, and
shone hotly on the white road. But as they neared
the fen, they passed into shade. Softly they lifted
the drooping branches of the trees, and entered,
moving carefully, that they might not disturb the
stork. A little farther, and the ground grew wet
under foot. Bright streams of water appeared
here and there. But between the streams were ridges
and island-like tufts of moss and dried grasses,
and stepping from one of these to the other, the
little ones passed on, dry-shod. Tall reeds and
lance-shaped rushes rose above their heads as
they crept along, whispering low to each other.
The air was hushed and warm, there was a pleas-
ant fragrance of damp roots and leaves. The
children liked the fen extremely. Their feet danced
and skipped, and they would gladly have shouted,
had it not been for the need of keeping quiet.
Suddenly a beautiful water-rat, with a long tail,
glanced like a ray of gray sunshine from under a
bank, and at sight of the intruders flashed back
again into his hole. Fritz was enchanted at this
sight. He longed to stay and dig into the bank in
search of the rat. What fun it would be to take
him home and tame him! But Annchen whis-
pered imploringly, and Carl tugged at his fingers;
so at last he gave up searching for the rat, and
went on with the others. They were near the
middle of the fen now, and Mother Stork, they
thought, must be close at hand.
Pop! glug! An enormous bull-frog leaped
from a log, and vanished into the pool with a
splash. Next a couple of lovely water-flies, with
blue, shining bodies and gauze-like wings, appeared
hovering in the air. They rose and sank and cir-
cled and whirled like enchanted things; the chil-
dren, who had never seen such flies before, felt as
if they had met the first chapter of a fairy-story,
and stood holding their breaths, lest the pretty
creatures should take alarm and fly away. It was
not till the water-flies suddenly whirled off and
disappeared, that they recollected their errand,
and moved on.




All at once Annchen, who was in advance of the "I want to go home," whined Carl. It's din-
rest, stopped short and uttered an exclamation. ner-time. I want my dinner very much."
The parting of the reeds had shown her a pool All of them wanted to go home, but it was not
larger than any they had seen before, round which an easy or quick task to do so. The children had
grew a fringe of tall flowering water-plants. Half wandered farther than they knew. It took a long
in, half out of the pool, lay a black log with a hol- time to find their way out of the fen, and when at
low end, and beside it, dabbling with her beak as last they reached the rushy limits and stood on
if searching for something, stood a large white bird. open ground, it was an unfamiliar place, and much
At the sound of voices and rustling feet, the bird farther from home than the side where they had


spread a pair of broad wings and flew slowly
upward, turning her head to look at the children
as she went.
"It was," cried Annchen. Oh, Mother Stork,
we did n't mean to frighten you. Please come
back again. We '11 go away at once if you don't
like to have us here."
But Mother Stork was no longer visible. She
had dropped into some distant part of the fen-
where, the children could not see.
"Her eyes looked angry," said little Carl.
"Oh dear !" sighed Annchen. "I hope she is n't
angry. That would be dreadful! What will poor
mother do if she is ? And it would be all our fault."

entered. Weary, hungry, and disheartened, they
trudged along for what to them seemed hours, and
it was long past midday when at last they reached
the familiar gate.
Frau Stork had got there before them, and stood
on the roof beside her mate, gazing down as the
sorry little procession filed beneath. Annchen had
no heart to greet her as she passed. She was tired,
and a dread lest their long absence should have
frightened or angered the mother added weight to
her fatigue, and made her heart sink heavily as
they opened the door.
The mother did not start or run forward to meet
them as the children expected she would do. She




sat by the table, and some one sat opposite her-
a tall, stately officer in uniform, with an order on
his breast. His helmet lay on the table, with some
papers scattered about it. When the children
came in, he turned and looked at them out of a
pair of kind blue eyes.
"Ah," he said. "These are the little ones,
"Yes," said the mother, "these are his chil-
dren. Take off your hats, boys; and, Annchen,
make your reverence. This is the Herr Baron,
your father's captain, children."'
Carl stared with round eyes at the splendid Herr
Baron, while Annchen demurely dropped her court-
esy. The captain lifted Fritz and perched him on
his knee.
"My fine fellow," he said, "you have your
father's face,"-and he stroked Fritz's yellow hair,
while Fritz played with the bright buttons of the
uniform. The captain and the mother went on
talking. Annchen did not understand all they
said, but she saw that her mother looked happier
than for a long time before, and that made her
feel happy too.
At last the captain rose to go. He kissed the
children, and Annchen saw him put a purse into
her mother's hands.
"I take shame to myself that I left you so long
without aid," he said; "but keep up heart, dame.

Your pension will no doubt be granted you, and
I will see that you and the children are cared for,
as a brave man's family should be. So good-day,
and God bless you! "
"May He bless you, Herr Baron," sobbed the
widow, as he went away.
"What is it, mother,-why do you cry?" asked
little Carl at last, pulling her sleeve.
"For joy, dear. The good Baron has brought
your father's back-pay. I can discharge my debts
now, and you need hunger no more."
'"It is the good luck come at last. I knew it
would," said Annchen.
"We will thank God for it," said her mother.
And they all knelt down and repeated "Our
Father," that beautiful prayer which suits equally
our time of joy and our time of sorrow.
But when the prayer was said, and the mother,
smiling through her tears, was bustling about to
cook such a supper as the little family had not
tasted for many a day, dear, superstitious little
Annchen stole softly to the door and went into the
The young storks were asleep with their heads
under their wings, and Frau Stork, poised on
one leg, was gazing about with drowsy eyes. She
looked bigger than ever against the dim even-
ing sky.
Thank you, dear stork! said Annchen.








EVERY nation has its flag. Every ship in for-
eign waters is known by the colors she shows at
her peak. The French frigate hoists her bunting
of three vertical stripes, red, white and blue ; the
English man-of-war shows a red flag, with the
crosses of St. Andrew and St. George on a blue

union in the upper left-hand corner; and the Aus-
trian, a double-headed black eagle, on a yellow
ground,-every nation with a name and a place,
having its own appropriate symbol.
When we were colonies of England, we sailed
and fought under her flag. Twenty years before
the Revolution, when we were at war with the
French and their allies the Indians, many a brave
man in some hot skirmish with Indians would
have welcomed the sight of the red flag of Eng-
land-it would mean aid and comfort when sorely
But the time was coming when he was to hate it
as much as he had hated the French colors. The
time was coming when the sight of it was to mean
oppression and tyranny to him, and every feeling
of his nature would be roused against it. Every
child knows how we finally rebelled; it was noth-
ing less, and, to England, our George Washington
was merely a leading rebel. It was a bold pro-
ceeding. We were thirteen little States, fringed
along on the Atlantic coast, with the unbroken
forest behind us, and among the great family of
nations we had neither place nor name. We were
like the last new boy at a public school-we had to
fight to obtain due respect from all the great old
nations who were looking on.
Of course we had no flag; we had to earn that
too. For a year or so our privateers carried the
Massachusetts State flag. It was better, they
thought, than the English flag, at any rate. The
field was of white bunting; in the middle, a
green pine-tree, as you see in the above picture;

and on the opposite side the motto, "Appeal to
Washington, in his character of General-in-
Chief, commissioned several privateer schooners,
and they all carried this flag.
The Alfred was one of the few large ships we


had, and she carried the pine-tree flag, and beside
that, one with thirteen stripes, in red and white,
but with no stars; while on the stripes was coiled
a rattle-snake, with the motto, "Don't tread on
me." The rattle-snake being found only in Amer-
ica, there was, of course, a peculiar meaning in
this emblem.
In the early part of the Revolution, some of the
South Carolina regiments carried the palmetto-tree
on their flag. That was a very good symbol, and
the State yet keeps it on her coat of arms, though
it grows everywhere in the South. The palmetto
logs at Fort Moultrie were found very good things
to receive cannon balls when that fort was besieged
by the British in June of 1776.
There was this multiplicity of flags, because we
did not clearly know what we were. No nation had

acknowledged us as belonging to their great family
yet; in fact, we had not quite cut loose from Eng-
land, yet we were fighting her with all our might,
and it seemed absurd to be under her colors. In




the fight at Bunker Hill, the flag planted in the
corner of that famous redoubt was of blue bunting,
with the cross of St. George in red in the corner,

-. i,. I. .

-.. *'-


and a pine-tree, that same pine-tree, in the upper
right-hand quarter of the cross. *
Our army at Cambridge celebrated New Year's
Day, Jan. Ist, 1776, not as the Chinese, by firing
crackers and illuminating lanterns in the evening,
nor yet by making calls, but by unfurling for the
first time in an American camp the flag of thir-
teen stripes. But even then we had not declared
ourselves independent of Great Britain, and this
flag had the British union in the corner, and the
crosses of St. Andrew and St. George.
Finally, on the 14th of June, 1776, Congress,
which met then in Philadelphia, settled upon our
style of flag. It shall have," said they, "thirteen
stripes, alternate red and white, and the union of
the States shall be indicated by thirteen stars,
white, in a blue field, representing a new constel-
They followed up the adoption of a flag by a
Declaration of Independence, and then we went to
fighting harder than ever, and, either because we
showed better pluck under our new flag, or be-


cause other nations began to feel some respect for
our courage under difficulties, or for some other
reason, France acknowledged our independence.
It was not until about forty years ago that it was

decided to add another star for every new State as
it joined the Union. So that the constellation as
it is now, with nearly forty stars in it, has grown
a good deal from the original thirteen. But the
stripes still remain the same in number, to remind
us of the first little band of States who fought it
out against Great Britain.
In the late war of the Rebellion every regiment
carried, in addition to the United States flag, a
State flag, so that the soldiers if they were lost or
separated from their company, in the confusion of
battle, could at least find, if not their own regi-
ment, one belonging to their State. How many
eyes may have looked wearily over the broken and
scattered columns of marching men on a field of
fight, searching through the wreathing smoke for
the bannered eagle of Illinois, the crossed arrows
of Ohio, or the rising sun of the New York State
flag, which might bear healing on its folds !
While the siege of Sumter was in progress in
1864, a review of the troops at Morris Island was


ordered. They stood, twenty-five thousand men
drawn out in line of battle, on the white hard sand
beach, with the Atlantic sending in its long thun-
dering surges behind them. Then it was pleasant
to look along the glittering line where the sun
struck lightning from bayonet and gun-barrel, as
they stood at parade rest," and notice the flags.
There on its silken ground ramped the black and
white horses supporting the shield of Pennsylvania;
then Maine, with the pine-tree and the deer; then
the vines of Connecticut, three clusters on the
shield-going back to the time when the Norsemen
called her shores Vineland: those old pirates who
roamed further and knew more in their day of the
other side of the world than all the rest of Europe.
Then the shield of good old Massachusetts, with
its mailed arm ever ready to strike, but with a
motto enjoining peace; and my eyes grew misty
as I saw that of my own State,-but I shall not
tell which that was, for every State flag waved by
the side of the great United States flag, as much
as to say, We are not for ourselves, but for all."






THERE was not much time for the young miners
to look about them. Their provisions were nearly
exhausted, cold weather was coming on, and what
mining was to be done must quickly be undertaken.
They had settled on one of the innumerable
branches of the Rio de los Plumas, or, as the new-
comers called it, for short," Feather River. This
branch was only a shallow creek now, rippling over
a bed of gravel. Later, it would be swollen with the
fall rains, and choked with floating ice. Their stock
of ready cash, which had seemed considerable when
they left home, was now so small that it would
hardly buy a hundred pounds of flour. Their
bacon was quite gone, and the only staple article
of food left them was a goodly bag of beans. Far-
mer Stevens had insisted on their taking a plenty
of beans. The boys had remonstrated, and Bar-
ney had laughingly said that the miners would
accuse them of being bean-merchants. But he
and Arty now acknowledged the wisdom of their
father's advice. Beans were in great demand.
Sixteen dollars for two quarts of beans had been
paid at the Chapparal Hill diggings; and the boys
had nearly a bushel.
By some miscalculation, as they once thought,
they had brought more coffee than they needed.
Often and often, the weather was so bad that they
could not roast and grind the coffee which was
part of their outfit; they had used the tea, because
that could be easily steeped, whenever they could
heat a pot of water. But the coffee had resisted
all their efforts to get rid of it. When their wagon
was upset in the hard places on the plains and over
the mountains, the coffee was always safe. The
passing emigrants, who asked them if they had any
stores to sell or exchange, never wanted green
coffee. It was too much trouble to prepare it. The
boys had thirty pounds of coffee, now worth eight
dollars a pound, and almost a bushel of beans..
This represented a small fortune, though they had
no money.
They had one ox, one cow, and one horse. But
poor old Jim was so thin and feeble that he was at
once named by the friendly miners Crowbait."
Their wagon was in fair condition. The tent was
as good as new. They had pans, picks, and shovels
for gold mining; and with stout hearts, strong
hands, and high hopes, what was not possible to

them ? The gold was hidden all about them in
the ravines, gulches and river-beds. They had
come to dig it out, and were impatient to begin.
Scattered up and down the stream, were small
encampments of diggers. A few had tents; many
slept in the open air, wrapped in their blankets,
though the nights were cold. Some of the more
home-loving miners had built booths of boughs
and logs, and had fashioned rude tables, benches,
and a few bunks from the costly lumber which
found its way up here from Greasertown, a small
camp down the river, where some industrious Mex-
icans had established a saw-pit. These little settle-
ments were at once given names of some sort, in
order to distinguish them from each other in the
rude gossip of the country. One group of tents,
cabins and booths, which boasted a population of
twenty-five men, was known as "Forty Thieves,"
though there were only twenty-five people in the
camp, and not one was a thief. Another was called
"Fatty Gulch," because one of the members of the
party in the camp happened to be an excessively
lean fellow; and another was dubbed Swellhead
Diggings," on account of the personal character of
several miners located there. Further down stream
were Slap-Jack Bar," Bogus Thunder," and
" One Eye," names which might have meant some-
thing yesterday, and which stuck there long after
men had forgotten why they were ever given.
"I allow I'll light out of this," said Captain
Rose, when they had been two days in camp.
They had settled up accounts all around, and were
ready to dissolve partnership now.
"Well, if you go, we allow to stay, and if you
stay, we allow to go," said Hiram, very frankly.
" There aint room for all of us."
"You can stay then, boys," said Rose. "There's
nothing' doin' here. Nobody's making' more than
one or two ounces a day; and I want more than
"More than that!" cried Arty, opening his
eyes with amazement. Why! one ounce is six-
teen dollars. Sixteen or thirty dollars a day! "
That may suit you young fellers," said Rose,
discontentedly. "I've heerd tell of chaps down
on the American River takin' out a thousand dol-
lars at a lick. That's about my size. I'm bound
to go on to the American. Be you fellers goin' to
hang together?"
Really, we had not thought of that," said Mont,
with a smile. "We have not divided up our little




property. I suppose we shall stick together for the
I thought ye were limited pardners," rejoined
Rose. "And if ye are, I 'd like to have Arty along
with me. Arty's a chirpy boy, and I 'll give him
a good show if he 'd like to go along."
Arthur had heard a great deal about the fabu-
lous riches dug up along the banks of the Ameri-
can, and he was fired with ambition to make money
suddenly. Here was a chance for him to go. He
looked at Barney and Johnny. He caught Mont's
eye watching him with an expression of anxiety,
and, breathing a little quicker than usual, he said:
" Thank you, Captain Rose, I 'll stay with the rest
of the boys."
Hope you 'll never be sorry for it. There's
lots of gold down there. None here to speak of,"
and Captain Rose went away disappointed, for he
liked the lad.
How about this partnership, anyhow? said
Hiram, when Rose, a few days later, had left them
to themselves.
My idea about it is that we go right on to-
gether," said Barney. "Arty and I must hang
together, of course. And I don't see how we can
give up Johnny. He's bound to stay with Arty
there, so that's three of us, to begin with. How
about you and Tom, Hi ? "
Hi allowed that he could not go off by him-
self. Tom was willing to do as Hi said, but he
preferred to stay with the Stevens boys.
I was the last one of the firm at Council Bluffs,
you know," said Mont, and I agreed that it should
be a limited partnership, lasting only until we
reached the diggings; and here we are."
And you want to bust up the partnership? "
demanded Hi.
Oh no, I 'm in favor of continuing the old firm
as long as we can live and work together harmoni-
ously. "
"That's just my gait," said Hi, enthusiastically.
"Shake and he extended his rough hand in
token of concluding the bargain. Mont took his
hand, and, with a laugh, put his arm on Arty's
shoulder and said:
This is the little chap that keeps us together.
So long as he has not set the example of running
off on a wild-goose chase, we can do no less than
stay here and work it out."
I'd have liked to have seen him going off with
John Rose," grumbled Barney.
It's share and share alike, is n't it ?" asked
Hi. Just then his eye lighted on Johnny, who was
busily cooking over the plentiful camp-fire. Hi's
countenance fell, and he asked, with some con-
straint. How about the little kid, yonder ?"
Don't call him a kid," said Arthur, indignantly.

" That's slang. Besides, Johnny's quite a big boy
Yes," laughed Hi. "He's four or five months
older than when we took him in at Council Bluffs.
He can't do no hard work. You can, because you're
two or three years older than he is, and are right
smart at things."
"Johnny can do as much as I can, come now;
and I'm willing to share with him. Tom, he and
I will have to do the drudgery anyhow."
No more drudgery for me," put in Tom, with
a frown.
See here," said Mont, there are three of us
grown fellows and three boys. Arty and Barney
belong together, and Tom, of course, joins his
brother Hi. Let Johnny's share be with mine;
that will make three equal partners in the camp.
For my part I am willing to give Johnny one-third
of all I make.. How's that, youngster ? he said
to Johnny, who had left his bean-stew to listen to
this interesting discussion.
"Oh, that's too much, Mont," said the lad,
gratefully. I am willing to work for my board."
And clothes," added Tom, who was astonished
at Mont's liberal proposition.
Yes, and clothes," said Johnny, who had by
this time found his Council Bluffs outfit necessary
to cover his growing limbs.
"We shall all become covetous, by and by,"
said Mont, seriously. I want to make a bargain
now, that we shall all keep. Barney, you and Hi
ought to be willing to divide with your brothers as
I shall divide with little Johnny here. I suppose
you are. Then we shall have only three shares,
though each of us will have to divide with one of
the boys; that is, provided we have anything to
divide. For after all," he added with a sober smile,
" we are counting our chickens before they are
The fact is," said Barney, "Arty and I are
equal partners with each other. We settled that
before we left home. But I am agreed that there
shall be three equal shares in the new concern-
yours, Hi's, and mine. Never mind what we do
with each share of any division we may make.
How's that, Hi ?"
It's a whack," said Hi, heartily. So the part-
nership was re-organized and the partners were
ready for work.
They had "panned out" enough gold from a
dry gulch near by to assure them that they could
make fair wages there for a time. Most of the
mining in that region was done by digging up the
gold-bearing earth and carrying it to the river-bank,
where it was washed out with pans, and the gold
picked out. The commonest way was to carry, or
"pack," the earth in sacks on men's backs, and




then pan it out by the river. It was wearisome
work. The pan was partly filled with dirt, then
filled tt the brim with water, and twirled around
and round, first one way,' then another, in the
hands of the operator. The fine earth rose to the
top, and was carried over the edge of the pan with
a peculiar turn of the wrist. Water was added,
and was whirled off again, carrying the refuse earth
with it, until nothing was left in the bottom of the
pan but coarse sand, and gold. Sometimes,-very
often indeed,-after all


~ Si';-'
~1~~'i~li ii.


he found a poor prospect, he journeyed on and
on looking for gold.
Some of these wandering diggers, or prospectors,
formed themselves into parties, bought mules, or
the fiery little horses of the country, and carried
their outfit over the rocky trails of the mountains.
At first, the travelers were obliged to make their
VOL. III.-38.

own paths. Then these grew more and more
beaten, and it was not long before gold-seekers
were hurrying up and down the land on routes
which led, like roads, from one gold-bearing region
to another.
On the very first day after the boys had camped
on Chapparal Creek they had "prospected" for
gold. The precious stuff, in lumps, nuggets, dust,
and coarse grains, was already familiar to their
sight. They had sold a quart pot full of coffee for
an ounce of golden ore. But they had never dug
,i ..iii of the ground.
1i.. .s an exciting time. In a gulch which led
i,.. i om the mountains and opened out to the
.:,..-1: as a flat place, overgrown with brambles
-ri*t :'Aill shrubs of chapparal-a thorny bush-
:.-r.i .iI up with the action of winter torrents. This
. -.I ..,.:e been the bed of a stream, but only a
-l..lri thread of water crept down under the rocks
il..hii I ad formed the bottom of the old creek. The
t..-I, .-.i was red and dry. Beneath, it grew darker,
I:.:..,.i.r, and more gravelly. This they shoveled
inr.., I|-'ins, and lugged to the edge of the creek
below. Mont and Hi each took a pan
Sand began to wash. Hi threw the water
over his legs, instead of from him, amidst
S the laughter of the boys, who anxiously
looked on. Mont twirled his panful of
mud, sand, and water quite dexterously,
flirting off the superfluous stuff with a
professional skill that delighted Arty,
who secretly hoped that Mont would be
the first to find the gold. Hi wabbled
his pan about clumsily, and soon covered
his legs with mud and water. The tur-
bid currents rippled over the edge of
Mont's pan as it deftly revolved in his
Hands. Arty thought he saw the shim-
mer of the gold in the cloudy mass.
"Hear it! Hear it!" shouted Hi.
Hear it scratchin' on the bottom of the
pan "
Sure enough, there was a rattle of
S .-:,r.,;l, in the pan different from the
steady grinding of the coarse sand. Just
then, Hi, who was highly excited, twirled
4.N :- his pan out of his hands, and it fell,
N amidst a chorus of" Ohs" from the boys,
bottom up, and, with its contents, spilled
all about. Hi impatiently snatched up
his pan, and there, in a confused heap of sand and
gravel, was a lump of bright, hard and shining
gold! With a great hurrah, Hi seized it, held it
in the air, cut a clumsy caper, and cried:
The fust gold for the Fender family "
It was a smooth, water-worn lump, of a dark
yellow color, about as big as a robin's egg, and




shaped very much like a pear that has been squeezed
nearly flat.
Before the boys could sufficiently express their
joy over this first gold of their own finding, Mont,
who had only looked up with glittering eyes as he
kept on with his work, whirled off the watery con-
tents of his pan and showed the heavier mass at the
bottom. There was about half an inch of black
sand, and, shining on the surface, were four or five
particles of gold. One was almost as big as a pea.
The others were a little larger than pin-heads, and
one was a crumb so small that it would have been
lost if the black sand had not shown it so plainly.
Sho! that aint nothing, said Tom, contempt-
Nothin'! exclaimed Hi, with equal contempt.
"Mont's got the color there, and more too.
That's over two dollars; and I allow one dollar a
pan is a mighty big thing. Them fellers up to
Forty Thieves said that twenty-five cents to a pan
was good diggin's."
A tall miner from One Eye, who was on his
way up the creek, paused as he went by, and
looked on curiously at the boys, who with much
excitement examined the half-washed heaps of
earth on the ground.
"Right smart sort of a scad you 've thar,
strangerr" he said, looking at Hi's find. "Must
be more whar that come from."
"Yes," said Mont, "we have just been pros-
pecting up the ravine. Should n't you think it
worth while to follow it up ?"
"Wal, I reckon yes. Chispas like that yere
don't grow into every mud-hole. Thar's quartz
rock whar that yere come from. But that's a
long ways from yere." And the tall stranger took
his way on up the stream, quite unconcerned at
the sight of the yellow metal which had so excited
our boys.
This was before Rose had left them. Rose, for
his part, was not in favor of creek-diggings. He
had heard of "crevicing," where the miners dug
out the precious stuff from crevices in the rocks,
after tearing away the earth; and nothing but
"crevicing" would suit him now. Accepting the
advice of some friendly neighbors at Forty
Thieves, the boys formally made claim to the dry
gulch, which they called Hi's Gulch" from that
day. They were mortified, some weeks later, to
find that the miners of the neighborhood had
christened this Crowbait Gulch," on account of
some fancied connection which old Jim had with
their good fortune. Their discomfiture was fur-
ther increased when they discovered that the name
was extended over their camp and party, so that
they were called The Crowbaits," just as if they
had been a tribe of Indians with that singular title.

No disrespect was meant to them, however, and
they thought they could endure being known as
"The Crowbaits" so long as their nearest neigh-
bors were content to be called." Forty Thieves."
Now, at last, they had money enough to buy
flour and meat, a claim that was as good as a
mine, and a tent over their heads. Already gleams
of gold shone in their hands, and rosy visions of
wealth began to rise. There was a tolerably sure
prospect for the future. Their trials were over,
they thought. Their riches were almost on the
surface of the ground.
"Do you'know what this means, Arty?" said
Barnard, one day, showing him a crumb of gold.
"Victuals and drink, board and clothes," said
the matter-of-fact lad.
Barney stooped and whispered in his ear one
word-" Home "

IN a few weeks the young gold-seekers accumu-
lated quite a stock of the precious ore. They
could hardly believe their eyes when they weighed
it over and over again, figured up the value of
it, estimated it, and speculated on the chances of
there being more like it in their gulch. It was a
marvelous thing that they should actually dig this
stuff out of the ground.
But there it was. It cost them many a weary
day and many a backache. They had stuck to
their gold-pans; and two of the elder members of
the party washed out the earth, which the others
dug up in the gulch, and carried in sacks to the
brink of the creek, where water was plenty. They
had tried to make use of the little stream in the
bottom of the gulch, but it was too slight to
afford water enough; and they were continually
digging under it, in hopes of finding rich lumps,
or "chispas." The younger boys, in their inter-
vals of packing the gold-bearing earth to the
washing party by the creek, often washed out a
panful of earth, furtively and eagerly, hoping to
find a rich return for their own labor. The gold
however was, for the most part, in small bits, like
a very coarse gunpowder, with occasional flakes as
fine as meal. No such lump as that found by Hi
at the beginning of their prospecting could be dis-
covered in the gulch.
The diggings extended, so far as they could
judge, quite across the flat mouth of the gulch or
ravine, which was four or five hundred feet across,
and outward to a sharp ledge, which ran diagonally
across it, and thence sloped off to the edge of the
creek. This ravine narrowed rapidly, and ran up
into the woody ridge, about two thousand feet




from its mouth. So the gold-bearing claim of the
young emigrants was a V-shaped patch of earth
about four or five hundred feet wide, and tapering
off to a point about one thousand feet from the
mouth, and thence gradually ascending into the
slope in the rear. Mont and Barney made a very
systematic "prospecting" of the claim before the
boys decided to stay. They sunk deep holes at in-
tervals along the V which has just been described,
digging sometimes to a depth of six or eight feet
before they reached the bottom layer of coarse
black sand, gravel and rock. The top surface was
a rich soil, filled with vegetable mold and roots;
next below was a clayey loam, and then the gold-
bearing sand, gravel and pebbles. Below all was
an uneven layer of solid rock, which seemed like
the bottom of a basin. This was the bed-rock,
and it rose gradually on either side of the ravine,
until its nearly perpendicular sides were lost in
the abrupt slopes which formed the walls of the
gulch. Under this rock, which could be broken
through in places, no gold was ever found. The
bed-rock, then, was like a dish; it rested on a
layer of sterile, yellow gravel and clay. Into its
platter-like surface the rain and floods of ages had
washed down the soil, gravel, and water-worn gold
which had once been scattered among the hills.
Perhaps this gulch had once been the outlet of an
ancient river. Here the wash of the mountains
had been carried down by freshets. The sand and
gravel had sunk to the bottom, resting on the
bed-rock. The gold, washed out of ledges, now
hidden in the hills, had been worn smooth or into
fantastic forms as it was tumbled along in the cur-
rent and over the rocks; it had been swept into
the river, and had gone to the bottom with the
gravel and stone. The sand had followed it, and
the soft soil which settled in, as the stream slack-
ened its current and became shallow, filled in all
the interstices. Strange changes took place in the
surface of the country. Hills rose up where none
had been before, and grass, shrubs and trees grew
luxuriantly where once a river had flowed swiftly
along. In Crowbait Gulch, for instance, the water
almost ceased. The winter rains washed down the
soil from the surrounding hills, covering up the
rocks, the gravel, the gold, and the sand. Each
season added its deposit of vegetable loam, and
grass, wild roses, chapparal, and manzanita-bushes
grew up, as if to hide the golden secret which lay
buried far beneath.
Into this tangled thicket, broken only by the bed
of a little stream, and by a few grassy spaces, came
the young treasure-seekers. Countless ages had
been necessary to prepare for them. While cent-
uries came and went, this wonderful work had
gone on unseen. The gold had been rolled and

tumbled, age after age, until it was rounded or
smoothed like water-worn pebbles; and genera-
tions lived and died, not even knowing of the exist-
ence of this wonder-land. The precious ore, for
which men go so far and work so hard, sunk into
its latest resting-place, and was covered from all
human eyes. But not forever, for into this primeval
solitude, in the fullness of time, had come the new
masters of the mine.
The gold was laid in Crowbait Gulch for the boy
emigrants. But it was not yielded up to them
without a struggle. Mont dug manfully, Arthur
helping him at times, and at times packing the
earth and gravel to Hi and Barney, who squatted
all day long by the bank of the stream, twirling,
twirling their pans, until their eyes ached and their
heads reeled with the constant whirling of water,
sand and gravel, water, sand and gravel, sand and
water again. Not every panful of earth held gold.
Very often it happened that the patient labor re-
quired to wash out a pan brought nothing but
disappointment. Nevertheless, it was fascinating
business. As the soil disappeared over the edge
of the pan, and the sand began to show through
the clearing water, the washer might expect to see
the golden gleam of the ore. Or he saw nothing
but common sand and gravel; and he began again
with the hope that never died in him.
Hi grew intensely interested in the work. He
was continually expecting to find a big lump. He
washed eagerly, almost feverishly. If he found a
few rich grains of gold, his eyes sparkled, and his
face beamed with pleasure. If his pan showed
nothing but barren sand, his countenance changed,
and he scooped up a fresh panful of earth with a
mutter of impatience. He was seldom rewarded
by any marvelous return, and when Barney, one
day, washed out a lump of gold as large as a hick-
ory nut, Hi broke out in open rebellion against his
"luck;" and he regarded Barney's find with eyes
of covetousness, as if it were not one more acqui-
sition to the common stock. Then, another day,
when Arthur, uttering a cry of joy and triumph,
dug out a lump of gold almost as big as that first
found by Hi, he threw down his pan with an ex-
clamation of disgust, and "allowed" that he had
washed long enough. He would take his turn at
digging. And so he did, until after a while Mont,
thinking that Hi was growing thin and haggard
with that work, exchanged places with him again,
and Hi went back to the pan.
One day, while all hands were hard at work in
and around the gulch, a voice up the thickly
wooded hill cried, Hillo you How does a fellow
get down ?"
Slide," said Mont, with a smile, as he straight-
ened himself up from his toil and looked up the




ridge. There was a crashing and rustling in the
brush, and presently a small cart came down the
steep slope, backward, and dragging after it a
familiar figure. It was Bush. His wagon had
lost its cover, and he was partly harnessed in the
traces, as his little cow had been.
Breaking through the undergrowth, and half-
riding, half-tumbling, Bush and his go-cart reached
bottom at last. Bush was brown, ragged, and as
cheerful as ever.
Sh'd think you might hev a road for visitors,
leastways," he managed to say, when he could
catch his breath. Then, having disengaged him-
self from his rude harness, he advanced with both
hands outstretched, cordially exclaiming, I 'm
looking' for the honest miners of Crowbait; and I
reckon I've struck 'em at last. Shake !" and Bush
warmly greeted his old companions.
Where's your cow ?" asked Barney, when their
former comrade had been duly welcomed.
"Wal, Suke, you see, she up and died one day.
After I left you at the divide, I struck off toward
the north part of the Yuba, and a powerful rough
time we had of it. No trail-rocks, gulches and
precipices, till you can't rest. Suke was more or
less alkalied on the plains, I reckon; and the pull
through the timber was too much for her. She
pegged out one night, and the coyotes picked her
bones before day. Poor Suke !" and Bush twinkled
a genuine tear from his eye, as he thought of his
vicious little cow.
Well how are you making it?" he continued,
briskly-" struck it rich ?"
Yes, we 're doing first-rate," answered Bar-
nard, heartily.
Oh, not so powerful rich, though," said Hi,
with an uneasy glance at the rest who were gath-
ered around. Just a livin', you know."
Oh, you need n't be afraid of me," said Bush,
very frankly, "I ain't a-goin' to stay here; I'm
just a-pushin' my way across to Dogtown, where I
hear there's great diggings. Thought I would
take Crowbait on my way. I seen Rose over on
the North Yuba. He told me where you were,
and when I inquired for 'the Boston boys,' I
learned you was Crowbait. Crowbait! I s'pose
that means Old Jim ?"
Yes," laughed Arty, poor old Jim, who ought
to have died on the plains, has lived long enough
td give us his name. How 's your luck at mining,
Bush ?"
"Well, just ornery; just ornery, boys," and
here Bush fished out of the bottom of his go-cart a
canvas shot-bag, which he untied, and poured
therefrom into his gold-pan about ten ounces of
gold-dust. I should say about one hundred and
fifty dollars' worth. That's all I've got to show.

And that there cow of mine would have fetched
almost twice as much if she 'd lived."
"Where did you pick up that dust?" asked Mont.
Oh, in spots; just in spots. I have n't worked
reg'Iar anywhere. No sooner do I get squared off
for a wrastle with the pick and shovel than I hear
of a better place, and I can't stay."
"Why, you aint earnin' great wages," said Hi,
Sure's you live," rejoined Bush with a sigh.
Then, brightening up, as if recalling a pleasant
thought, he said: "And do you believe it, boys,
a feller over on Rattlesnake Bar had the cheek to
offer me day wages! Fact, he did !" he added, at
the expression of surprise on the boys' faces.
How much?" asked Tom.
"Why, twenty dollars a day, and found. Did
you ever see such a fool?"
What! so much?" exclaimed Arty.
"Much! much!" almost screamed Bush. "What
do you take me for? "D 'yer s'pose I'm a Josh
to come away over here across the plains to work
forwages? Not much," he added scornfully. "I'm
goin' to strike for a pile."
But Bush, if he had not made much money, had
been busy enough collecting news of all his old
acquaintances. He consented to stay overnight
with the boys, and gave them all the information
he had concerning the country and the people in
it. Philo Dobbs, Nance and her mother, were
over near Table Mountain. When last heard from
they were stopping in a camp of Maine men, whose
little settlement and diggings were called Bangor.
Dobbs had struck it rich;" then he had invested
it in gold in a new claim, and had lost it; and all
this had happened jn a week or two. Messer was
still down on his luck," and was over in the San
Joaquin country somewhere.
"Then there was that Dot-and-carry-one chap,"
added Bush.
"Yes! exclaimed Arthur, "Bill Bunce."
"Bunce was his name. But he is 'Dot-and-
carry-one' in places where he stays now. 'Dot,'
for short, I should say. He's down on the next
branch to this, making money hand over fist. A
fool for luck, I say. Not any for me."
Bush gave the boys a great many valuable hints
about mining. Though he had not been himself
successful, he knew how to instruct others. Par-
ticularly he urged them to get a rocker; it would
wash as fast with one man to run it as ten men
could with pans. A rocker, or cradle, he showed
them, was merely an oblong box, open at one end,
and made to rattle like a winnowing machine by
shaking. In this the earth was washed, precisely
as in a pan, but with much greater speed and





The boys told Bush that they had resolved to
stay where they were all winter. He shook his
head at this and said:
I never have seen any man that has been in
this country much longer than we have. Nobody's
been here over one winter, 's far's I know. But
the Injuns, they say the snow's right deep up this
far in winter. If you winter it here, you may as
well get up a log-house. You '1l freeze in this cloth
tent. It's getting' on to November now, and the
nights are fallish already."
This was a new view of the situation to the boys,
to whom the climate was utterly unknown, and
about which they had taken no thought.
Bush pushed on cheerily next morning, and, as
the boys watched him on his way up the branch,
shoving his go-cart before him, he stopped in the
midst of his song and called back:
"How about grub?"
Plenty for the present," answered Mont.
Lay in enough before snow flies, or you '11 get
pinched before spring. There's traders down to
Nye's Ranch, and that's your place to buy."
With this farewell warning and advice, Bush
waded deliberately into the stream, forded it, poured
the water out of his boots, whistled cheerily to him-
self, and disappeared up the bank.

To build a house without lumber was the next
task which our boys were to attempt. The Mexi-
cans, commonly called "Greasers," who had set up
a jig-saw in their saw-pit down the river, asked such
enormous prices for the few boards and planks
which they produced, that the. boys were at once
discouraged from buying of them. Lumber was in
demand for cradles, sluice-boxes, and other mining
appliances, and the green stuff got out at Greaser-
town was all that could be obtained in that region
of the country.
But the lads were bent on having a house over
their heads. They must build it themselves. They
had no money to hire laborers with, for their little
accumulation, handsome as it was to them, would
not go far toward hiring assistance, even if there
had been men to hire.
But timber was plenty on the hills near them,
and they had nearly tools enough to build a cabin
with, and what they did not have, their good-
natured neighbors at Forty Thieves were willing
to lend. Choosing out the clean, slender pines and
firs of the forest above, the young settlers cut down
enough to make the walls of their hut. Trimmed
and cut into lengths, these were "snaked out of
the woods by their single yoke of cattle, now

brought into use once more. Then, a suitable
underpinning of solid logs having been prepared,
the tree-trunks were notched at the ends, so as to
fit into each other.
It was heavy work handling these logs, and the
younger boys were almost in despair when they
reflected that the upper part of the cabin walls must
be made by hoisting the sticks to a height above
their heads. But Mont soon showed them that, by
raising one end of a log on the unfinished structure,
and sliding the other end up on an inclined stick
of timber, each went merrily into its place, and the
walls steadily arose until the pen, as it seemed to
be, was eight logs high, and just about as many
feet from the ground. This was the work of days,
and the boys surveyed the result of their labors
with admiration.
"Gracious goodness! exclaimed Arthur, "we've
forgotten the doors and windows."
Sure enough," said Mont, with a comical smile.
"How shall we manage to put them in, now that
the walls are up ?"
Will the whole thing have to come down again ?"
asked the boy, anxiously.
Hi burst out laughing, and said:
Mont knows a thing or two. All we have to
do now, Arty, is to cut one hole for the door, and
a couple more for the windows."
"But the logs will all fall out if they are cut in
two in the middle."
"We chink up the logs first, Arty," explained
Mont, so that they cannot fall apart, then we saw
out the openings."
"Where did you learn all that? In Boston?"
demanded Arthur.
"Oh, he's got a head onto him, he has," mur-
mured Hi, with an admiring look at Mont, who,
somehow, was the "boss carpenter" of the house
in the wilderness.
Hi, it must be confessed, did not take kindly to
house-building. He found the work very "disa-
greeable," as he often remarked. He had chopped
timber in Sugar Grove, times enough before now;
but this labor, he thought, was unprofitable. It
interfered with mining. He looked longingly at
the neglected pans and picks while he was hauling
logs, hewing timber, and splitting out "shakes"
for the covering of their roof. And one moonlight
night, Mont, hearing a strange noise outside as he
awoke from a deep sleep, crept out and saw Hi
making a pan of earth by the side of the creek,
Pete sitting by on his haunches an interested spec-
"Why, what's the matter, Hi?" asked Mont.
"Have n't you done work enough to sleep on?"
Hi looked a little confused and startled, and
replied : "'Pears like I could n't sleep to-night. I



dreamed of finding a big chunk of gold up there
by that there bowlder. So I thought I'd come
out and shake the old pan for a while." *
Mont put his hand kindly on the young man's
shoulder and said:
My dear old fellow, I am afraid you are getting
avaricious. Don't let us try to be rich in a hurry.
You will get sick with over-work and anxiety, and
then where are you ?"
Hi, with a little heat of manner, and growing red
in the moonlight, said: "I allow my health's my
own. I put my gold into the company, don't I ?"

Barney struggled out of the tent, half awake, and
with a blanket clinging about him.
"Here, you Crogan," cried Arty from within,
"bring back my blanket!"
'"Oh, it's nothing," said Mont, cheerily; "only
Hi has had a dream of gold, and he has come out
to find it in his pan. I followed to see it come
Did it come true ?" asked Barney, grimly.
"Not yet."
And it's a nice time of night for you to be out
here washing gold," said Arty, who had crawled out

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"But that is n't the question, Hi. It makes me
sorry to see you growing so care-worn and old be-
fore your time. We have a good claim, and nobody
can take it from us -"
"I'd like to see 'em try it on !" broke in Hi.
"And, as I was saying," resumed Mont, "nobody
can take it from us. We shall have it in the spring.
We can live comfortable until then. What's the
use of being in a hurry?"
"What!" exclaimed Hi, almost with horror.
" Knock off washin' until spring Not if I know
it," and he shook his pan with new energy.
"Hillo! what's up now?" and, as he asked,

into the moonlight, and was trying to read the time
on Barney's white-faced watch. "Past two o'clock,
as I live Hi Fender! you 're as crazy as a loon!
I'm ashamed of you !"
"Well, if you are all going' to make a row about
it, I '11 go back to bed." And back to bed he went,
saying to himself, "I allow that Arty's just about
half right, anyhow."
Notwithstanding Hi's discontent, the cabin rose.
Light spruce poles formed the rafters of the roof,
and these were covered with shingles, or "shakes,"
split out from the beautiful white pine of the region.
Rudely hewn timbers supported the floor, which was





made of thick oblong blocks, called "puncheons,"
split from the short lengths of oak which had been
chopped in the forest. A hole was cut in the rear,
and a huge fire-place of stone was built in it, with
a chimney of bricks, piled "cob-house fashion," and
plastered with mud, leading above the roof. Two
openings, protected by cloth from their wagon-
cover, furnished light and air. Boards, sparingly
taken from their wagon-box, furnished a door and
material for a table and bench within. The chinks
in the logs were filled in with sticks, dry grass, and
clay. The house was done, and Arty, having let-
tered the name on a spare scrap of canvas, and
fastened it to the front of this new castle, christened
it "Boston," amidst the applause of his comrades.
Hi meditatively cocked his head on one side and
"I never did like Boston for a name; but it's
enough sight better than Crowbait."
While they were yet admiring the general effect
of their new home, a lame man, wearing a slouched
felt hat, a red shirt, and a pair of canvas trousers,
slid painfully down the bank, dropped his kit of
mining tools with a sigh of relief, and said:
Arthur and Tom looked at him with amazement,
and Barney, with elaborate politeness, said:
Good-morning to you, Mr. William Bunce."
Knowed you'd know me! Yes, I knowed it,"
and Mr. William Bunce rubbed his game leg, as if
he thought it a great joke. "Fixed up mighty
comfortable here. D' ye allow to winter here?"
"Yes, we allow to winter here," replied Hi, with
some asperity. "What mischief are you up to?"
"See here, strangerr" replied Bunce, "I aint
up to no mischief, leastways so long as I'm civil
spoken to. It's the boss of this ranch I want to
see-Boston, is it ? ", And the man looked curiously
at Arty's sign. "I was told it was Crowbait."
"Who told you it was Crowbait?" demanded
The man with the go-cart. I disremember his
name. Woods?"
"That's the name. I knowed it war something
to do with woods."
"Well, what's your will with us ?" asked Barnard.
The man fumbled about his shirt, and took out
a buckskin bag, in which was a handful of gold-
dust and a greasy wad of paper. Smoothing the
paper on his knee, he read from it in silence, lifted
up his head, and said:
Thar war a man."
"Well ? said Mont, for Bunce had stopped.
"Whar's the kid? he asked.
"Who? Johnny?"
That's what you call him."

Johnny was called from the gulch, where he was
experimenting with pick and shovel. As soon as
he saw Bunce, he shrunk back and took shelter
behind Mont. Bunce grinned and began again:
"Thar war a man. His name war Jenness,
M. D. Leastways, that thar war on his shingle in
Lick Springs, Vermillion County, Illinoy. He had
a widder sister a-livin' in Ogle County, Illinoy, like-
wise. She up and died, leaving' a little boy. Jenness,
M. D., I allow he war the boy's garden. He got
the boy. Now thar was property-how much I
never heerd tell; it war the kid's if he lived, and
Jenness's if he did n't. Do ye begin to sarvy ?"
His listeners nodded assent.
"In course you see, then, that that thar little
kid is the boy. Jenness, M. D.,-well, he aint no
doctor, leastways not more'n a hoss doctor,-Jen-
ness, he tell me and Eph Mullet, if we'd take the
boy, like we war a-goin' to Californy, and get shut
of him somehow, he'd gin us our outfit. So he
"And you got your California outfit for promis-
ing to make away with this boy, did you ?" asked
Mont, with a shudder.
That's about the size of it. But, mind ye, we
only got part of the outfit; it war only a matter of
a hundred dollars or so. There war two of us."
The smaller the price, the meaner your crime,"
exclaimed Barney, with a great glow of indigna-
"Thar wan't no crime. Yon's the kid; I've
nothing' ag'in him. He's alive and kickin'; but
Jenness, M. D., he thinks he's dead."
"Can you give us any clue by which we can
ascertain this boy's parentage ?" asked Mont.
Which ?" said the man, with a vacant stare.
Can you tell us how we -can find out the boy's
real name, and the names of his father and
mother ?"
"All I know is-Jenness, M. D., Lick Springs,
Vermillion County, Illinoy. Kid's mother was in
Ogle County, some such name as Brownbecker-"
"Bluebaker !" exclaimed Hi.
"You've struck it, stranger. Bluebaker is the
word. I know'd it had a blue or a brown onto
More than this, they could not extract from
Bunce. His information was limited, or he was
determined to tell no more. Here was enough to
begin an inquiry upon, at any rate. Johnny had
never heard the name of Bluebaker. He had
been called "Johnny always. He was not at all
moved when Arty said that he might become heir
to something handsome, by and by.
Bunce listened to the questions and comments
of the party and then began again.
Thar war a boss."



He paused, but nobody made reply, and he
went on:
"A. yaller hoss."
"A sorrel," corrected Barney, "with a raw-hide
braided halter about his neck." And here he
drew that article of horse-gear from a heap of stuff
on the ground.
The man's eyes flashed recognition when he saw
the riata, and Barnard continued:
This was on the sorrel horse which was ridden
into our camp near Thousand Spring Valley, and
the man that was shot off that horse had another
just like it around our Old Jim's neck. He was a
The man never winced. He said, Strannger,
that yallar hoss war mine."
How came he in our camp ?"
"He war stole from me in Echo Canion. I
tracked him into Salt Lake City; thar I lost him."
How did you know we knew anything about
him," asked Mont.
The man turned uneasily on the stump where
he sat and said, The go-cart man told me you
had a yaller hoss."
So we had."
"Had ?"
"Yes, had," answered Barney, impatiently.
"That yellow horse, as you call him, war drowned
in Seven Mile Cafion, on the day of the great
The man slowly, as if in a deep thought, rolled

up his greasy and crumpled paper, put it in his
buckskin pouch, drew the strings tight, put it in
his bosom, stood up and said:
"Powerful nice weather we're havin' now. Sure
about that yaller hoss ?"
Sure. He was drowned with half of Rose's
cattle," said Mont.
The man turned to go, gathering up his pack
with an air of deep dejection.
Give us that paper !" said Arty, eagerly.
Oh, yes, let us have the memorandum," said
Mont. It will help us find out what we want to
know about Johnny."
It's got writing' onto the other side of it," said
Bill Bunce. "Private writing' that I can't spare to
give away. Write down what I've told ye-Jen-
ness, M. D., Lick Springs, Vermillion County,
Illinoy. Kid's mother was a Brownpecker. Ogle
County, likewise."
"And that's the way you leave this matter, after
you have confessed that you agreed, for money, to
put this little chap out of the way," said Barney,
The man turned and looked at him with a dim
gleam of fire in his bleary eye, and said, "What
are ye goin' to do about it?"
So saying, he stumped along the trail, perpet-
ually rolling over on one side, as if to pick up
something which he, continually changing his
mind, did not take. And so he rocked irresolutely
out of sight.

(To be continued.)










A SHORT time before the civil war broke out in
America, two iron-clad vessels, one called the War-
rior and the other the Black Prince, were added to
the British fleet. The world looked upon them
with awe. Their armor was so thick that it seemed
impossible for a shot to penetrate them; while the
caliber of their guns was such that it seemed equally
impossible for other vessels to resist them. The
other maritime nations of Europe followed Eng-
land's example, and built iron-clads of the same

brain with an idea which many people sneered at.
I have heard it said that no one laughs so much at
a fool as a fool, and I think it even more true
that it is the fool who laughs oftenest at the
wise man. You all know how nearly all great
astronomers, chemists and inventors have been
derided in the pursuit of extraordinary discoveries.
The old story has to be repeated in the case of this
sharp-witted, persevering man named Ericsson.
His idea was entirely novel. A less ingenious


kind; but America did nothing and remained idle,
with only a fleet of wooden vessels for protection of
her great sea-coast.
All the famous naval battles of history had been
fought by broadside frigates, which in some in-
stances carried as many as three tiers of cannon on
each side. The iron-clads were also built on the
broadside plan; that is to say, their guns were
ranged along on the decks, and pointed at the
enemy through port-holes; but they were different
from the older-fashioned vessels in being covered
with plates of wrought iron. They had fewer but
more effective guns, and were propelled by steam
and sails.
The position of America was not a proud one,
and we were at times visited by a French or English
man-of-war, compared with which our own vessels
appeared dwarf-like.
Meanwhile, however, an ingenious American
engineer, named John Ericsson, was puzzling his

mechanic would have suggested the building of a
much larger and stronger iron-clad than any in
Europe; but Ericsson planned an exceedingly
small one-so small, indeed, that the enemy would
have scarcely any space to aim at. He saw
that in a broadside ship all the cannons on one
side were practically useless, as only those opposite
her combatant could be used effectively, unless she
happened to fall between two of the enemy's vessels
at once. He saw, too, the dangers and hinderances
caused by falling spars and rigging, and how large
a space such an iron-clad as the La Gloire of
France, or the Warrior of England, presented to
the fire of a smaller vessel.
So he proposed to build an iron ship with a deck
not more than one or two feet above the level of
the water, and without sails, masts, or bulwarks.
Her armament was to consist of not more than two
guns, which were to be sheltered in a little round
house, which he called a turret. This turret was




to revolve by steam power in such a way that the unlike Ericsson's proposed ship; but her guns were
guns could be fired astern, over the bow, or from hidden in a sort of oblong shed, which extended
the port or starboard side. nearly the whole length of her deck. One gun
Thus her two guns would be equivalent to six of was pointed out of the forward end, another out of
the same size on a broadside ship, but as they were the stern end, four out of the port side, and four
to be about three times the ordinary size, they really out of the starboard side. Her bow was provided
would be equivalent to eighteen. In this way with a sharp iron blade or ram, with which she
Ericsson's ship would be a match for an eighteen could cut any wooden vessel in two. Her name
gun iron-clad in shooting power, while in the power was the Merrimack.
of resisting, the inventor claimed she would be On that memorable seventh of March she came
much more than a match for the strongest iron- from Norfolk, Virginia, attacked the ships at
clad afloat. Hampton Roads, and beat them. Her shot pierced
The iron-clads had high, black sides standing and splintered their oak and pine, while their shots
far out of the water, which, as I have said, offered struck her and glanced off without doing serious
an ample target for the guns of a combatant; but injury. After peppering them with fire, she ran
the hull of Ericsson's ship would lie so low in the on them, like a mad ox, with her knife-like iron,
water that it would be difficult to get a shot at it, threatening to destroy the whole fleet. The battle
and the only object to be aimed at would be the had an ominous look for the Federals, but salva-
little turret. Even that could not be hit easily, as tion came on the next day in Ericsson's little Mon-
it would be round, and the shots would be likely to itor, as his vessel was called. She had been built
glance off. in a hundred days, and had not only been launched,
The "new-fangled notion" was to be clad in but had proved an excellent sea-going boat.
an armor of iron and wood twenty-five inches thick The rest, many of you know. The Monitor, with
at the bow and stern, and four inches thick amid- two guns in a revolving turret, beat the Merrimack
ships. The deck was to be bomb-proof, and the with ten guns in a shed; and when the news of her
turret inclosed with plates of iron eleven inches achievements was carried to Europe, it demon-
thick. strated to the cunning statesmen there that the
The plan seemed wild, and both sailors and best of the new seventy-gun iron-clads might be
landsmen who heard of it declared it to be imprac- beaten by a two-gun turret-ship.
ticable, saying, with an idle laugh, that if Ericsson In appearance the Monitor was as ugly as could
ever tried to launch such a vessel he would have a be. Side by side with a full-rigged iron-clad, or
chance to exhaust his remaining energy in fishing with one of our own wooden frigates, she looked
her from the mud into which she would sink at the shabby and contemptible; but she reminded us
bottom. But the invent-
or went on with his idea, .. .
and worked patiently in- ----- ----
his machine-shop until
he obtained some en- -
couragement for his la- I _- .- -
bor from the Govern-
The war of the Rebel- -
lion was declared, and 5---------.
our ships were patched
up and sent out to meet
the enemy. On the 7th ---
of March, 1862, part of
the fleet lay at anchor -

tagonist stole in upon .. ,.
The Confederates had
hastily fitted up one of THE DEVASTATION.
their wooden vessels, sheathed her with iron and of a truth taught by Faraday, that it is the best-
lowered the deck to within a few feet of the water- acting thing, and not the best-looking thing, which
level. She had no masts or sails, and was not is of greatest service.


You can make a good model of her by taking a
little oval fig-box, painting it black, and sinking it
in a basin until the top of the lid is nearly level
with the water. Then place a small pill-box in the
center of the deck, and you will have a capital


sharp blade of steel projects eight feet from her
bow, with which she can cut her antagonist in
halves as with a knife.
Some time ago, I found the Montauk, an Amer-
ican monitor, lying disabled and dismantled at a


miniature turret; but if the pill-box has unpleasant
associations, any other small round box will answer
your purpose equally well. The smoke-stack may
be represented by a lucifer match inserted in the
deck near the stern.
Soon after the success of the Monitor, several
other turret-ships were built for the Government'
on Ericsson's plan, with two turrets and four guns,
and nearly all did excellent service during the war.
While Ericsson was busy in America, a naval
officer was engaged in England vith other plans
for turret-ships, and the fleet of Great Britain now
includes several magnificent vessels of that class,
which, in strength of armor and guns, are superior
to ours. Perhaps you remember reading in the
newspapers about the launch of the Devastation
some time ago. As you see in the picture, she is
a very grand and formidable ship. The Glat-
ton is another British turret-ship, and her dimen-
sions are so wonderful that I do not doubt they will
interest you. Her hull about the water-line is
plated with iron twelve inches thick, backed with
twenty inches of wood, and behind this again there
is an inner plate of iron one inch thick. Thus her
sides are nearly three feet thick. She has one
revolving turret, containing two guns. The turret
itself is plated with fourteen-inch iron; and for its
further protection, it is surrounded by a breast-
work of wood and iron thirty inches thick. A

secluded pier on the East River. She had not
been repaired since her last battle. Her smoke-
stack, turrets and sides were dingy and torn.
Here a plate of seven-inch wrought iron, with a
wood backing, had been shattered; there a shot
had struck the turret and left a deep dent in it.
Near the stern a shell had fallen and burst with
terrific force, tearing a part of the iron deck away.
I tried to count the marks of all the shots that
had hit her; but there were so many that I could
not. The old watchman assured me that he had
counted two hundred and sixty-five; and he pointed
out some of the largest with a calm satisfaction
in his face. He also told me how part of her bot-
tom had been blown out by a torpedo; how her
brave commander had run her ashore to avoid
sinking; and how, after she had been patched
with wood, she was sent into battle again, like a
wounded gladiator, to complete her work. The
watchman was an old marine, and his face shone
with pride as he led me over the old ship.
When I next saw the Montauk, she was lying re-
fitted and ready for sea in the Brooklyn Navy Yard.
All the rust and wreck had been scraped away.
The dented plates were replaced by new ones;
the paint was fresh, and the brass-work polished.
The records of a good many shots could still be
read on her sides and turrets; but she was as
stanch as when she was launched. Perhaps it




was well for Spain that we did not go to war with
her during the excitement of 1873, for the Mon-
tauk and our other monitors would have been very
dangerous foes.
Yet you must remember that these turret-ships
are not very formidable in appearance. They lie
low in the water. Their enormous guns are secret-
ed in the turrets, and a few tiny saluting cannon
on deck, are the only weapons exposed to view.
The Jersey City ferry-boats are much stronger-
looking vessels, and a country boy may well won-
der how the turret-ships can endure the rain of
shot and shell that a large broadside iron-clad has
the power to throw at them.
It is their extreme compactness that makes them
impregnable. As I have told you, they offer but
a small mark for the enemy's guns, and a frigate
would have difficulty in getting a shot at them,
while they would have difficulty in missing a shot
at the frigate.
The harbor of New York was guarded by the
Roanoke, which has four turrets and eight guns;
but most of the other turret-ships have only two
turrets each. The turrets are armored with solid
iron plates, eleven inches thick, backed with wad-
ding; and the guns which they contain weigh
twenty-two tons. A twenty-two ton gun, you may
be sure, is a terrible instrument of destruction; but
I don't suppose you can guess the immense weight
of the shot which it will throw. A hundred pounds
seems great, but the actual weight of each shot fired
by the Roanoke is four hundred and forty pounds,
and thus the eight guns fired at once would pour
three thousand five hundred and twenty pounds
of steel into her antagonist's side!
Think for a moment of the effect of such a volley
on the most heavily armored broadside vessel,-
how it would make her reel and groan like a great
beast struck at the heart! Think of the thunder
that such a weight would cause, and the terror it
would carry to an enemy!
And some of the British turret-ships, like the
Glatton and the Thunderer, even carry guns which
throw shots weighing six hundred pounds each !
I once heard an old sailor who fought in a moni-
tor, describe the sound of the shots beating against
the vessel's plates. You know what it is to be in a
long railway tunnel,-how intensely dark it is, far
darker than a starless night, and how yellow and
feeble the lights look. Well, it is much the same
in the bowels of a turret-ship, when all the hatch-
ways are closed. Oil-lamps swing from the beams,
but they give no luster, and each flame seems like
a little bit of yellow floating in the air. The men
grope about and knock against each other, some
bearing ammunition to the elevator connecting with
the turrets, others carrying coal from the bunkers

to the furnaces underneath the boilers. The en-
gines groan and rattle, and at times the captain's
bell rings a sharp order to slacken or increase the
Meanwhile, if there has been a lull in the firing,
the men move about feeling very like a timid boy
who is alone in a country lane after dark-not that
they are afraid. The boy looks at every shadow,
thinking there is a robber or a kidnapper behind it.
The men anxiously await each moment, not know-
ing what deadly surprise it may bring forth.
And as the battle goes on, it is not long before
there is a ringing sound that is calculated to fill
the bravest and strongest of nerve with a moment-
ary terror. It is as though the inner deck and
walls were !.l.ii_ in upon them, and for a little
while they are unable to realize what has hap-
pened-uncertain that they are not on their way to
the bottom. Every ear is stung with the awful
sound, and every nerve is thrilled.
The great mass of iron seems to tumble over on
one side and moan with pain before the vessel
rights herself again and steadies herself for fresh
exertions. Then she returns the compliments paid.
her with a vengeance, and her bull-dogs in the
turrets bark and spit fire at the enemy until we pity
that unfortunate, and wish she would retire from
the field.
The turrets are ranged along the deck. They
are about ten feet in diameter, fifteen feet high,
and each one is fastened to a massive upright pillar
of iron passing through the center and working in
a socket on the lower deck. The pillar is con-
nected by a series of cog-wheels with a steam-
engine, which causes it to turn the turret in the
direction the captain requires.
Two small port-holes are cut in the plates of the
turret, and furnished with solid iron doors. When
the guns are to be fired, they are worked on slides
to the port-holes, which remind us of the mouth of
a dogs' kennel, and their noses are pointed at the
enemy. A second after they have uttered their
bark, they are dragged in, and the doors are closed,
just in time, perhaps, to avoid two return shots
which crack like thunder on the plates outside.
While the guns are being loaded again, the men
are hastened by the whistle and crash of the shot
and shell, which strike the iron walls of the turret.
Above one of the turrets there is a little iron-clad
pilot-house, whence the captain directs the move-
ments of his vessel. It has no window, and the
only outlook is through slits, about an inch wide,
in the plates. The intrepid man, whose position
is the most dangerous of all, stands there through-
out the thick of the fight, controlling the rudder,
the engines, and the turrets, by a motion of the
hand or the tinkle of a bell.




You may remember what I told you in a pre-
vious article,-I am beginning to look upon you as
old friends, by the way,-about Admiral Worden,
the hero of the Monitor. He was watching the
Merrimack from the slits in his little look-out box,
when a shell struck the outside-and knocked him
senseless. All captains of turret-ships are exposed
to such dangers as this, and even greater ones; in-
deed, as I have said, their positions are the most
A sailor's life is not overburdened with comforts
under the most favorable circumstances, and in a
turret-ship it is extremely miserable. Even in
moderate weather, the sea sweeps the deck from
end to end, leaving no dry space where the men
can get exercise or a taste of the breeze. Most of
the time the hull is completely under water, and
the hatchways are screwed down. A supply of air

lution in naval warfare. I will add a few words
about another destructive vessel, which has not yet
reached the perfection of the turret-ships, although
it is destined to play an even more important part
in the defense of our coast.
You are all familiar, of course, with the torpe-
does which make such a racket on the Fourth of
July; but there are others, called submarine torpe-
does, of which you may have heard without under-
standing their nature. In action and in composi-
tion they are not very different from those sold at
the toy shops; but in size, and consequently in
effect, there is no comparison between the two.
The toy-torpedoes explode with a loud report and a
cloud of smoke. So do the submarine torpedoes;
but while the former are harmless and are let off
just for fun, the latter have sufficient force to blow
a large steamer into the air.


is forced below by machinery, but it soon becomes
impure and damp. Not a gleam of sunlight finds
its way down. The crew move about with the aid
of flickering oil lamps, going to bed in darkness
and arising in darkness.
When a gale blows, they can see none of its
effects, and can only hear the monstrous waves
rushing along the deck, or breaking against the
sides. They pine, if they are true salts, for a sail
to furl or set; for a swing from the yard; for the
excitement attending a frigate or a clipper in a
storm. But they are pent up like men in a diving-
bell; and, for all a sailor's duties they have, they
might as well be land-lubbers. The close atmos-
phere, the moisture and darkness, tell upon their
health severely. Six months of active service is
usually enough to break down a strong man, and
fill his limbs with fevers and achings.
You now understand what a turret-ship is, and
how John Ericsson's invention has caused a revo-

In olden times, when two countries were at war,
one would send fire-ships drifting among the other's
fleet. These fire-ships were useless old hulks loaded
with gunpowder and other inflammable materials.
When the enemy's vessels were becalmed, the fire-
ships were lighted and sent among them, often
causing fearful havoc. The submarine torpedoes
are used for the same purpose-that is, to destroy
the vessels of a nation which is at war with another.
They are operated in different ways. Some are
used to guard the entrances of rivers and harbors,
and are held at a certain distance below the surface
by buoys. Others are floated on the surface, and
others are attached to long poles projecting from
the bows of small steamers called torpedo-boats.
But they all are exploded either by striking a ves-
sels side or bottom, or by electricity, which is .sent
to them through a wire connected with the shore,
or controlled by the captain of the torpedo-boat.
I am forgetting to tell you, however, what the




torpedoes are in appearance and in fact. In ap-
pearance they are like enormous percussion caps,
and in fact they are metal canisters, perfectly water-
tight, containing a charge of some explosive sub-
stance-gun-cotton, gunpowder, or dynamite. The
size of the charge may be large or small, of course,
according .to the service for which it is required;
but the tiny spark produced by the concussion or
by electricity always ignites it.
At the time I am writing, the newspapers are pub-
lishing accounts of a novel torpedo-boat built in
England for the Venezuelan Government, which is
designed to run quickly toward an enemy's ship,
explode a torpedo under her bottom, and retire.
That she should be able to retire uninjured seems
a wonderful, almost impossible thing to you, no
You can easily understand how a floating or
submerged torpedo may be fired by a telegraph
wire, and how a little steamer with a torpedo at-
tached to a pole at bow, might run against a vessel
and blow her up; but you cannot understand how
she can escape from all the consequences of her
terrible work. You think that, approaching so near
her victim, she also would suffer from the explosion.
It has been found, however, that if the torpedo is
exploded ten feet below the surface, and the pole
to which it is attached is twenty-five feet long, there
is little danger to the boat. But should she be
discovered approaching, she would be exposed to
the fire of her intended victim, and might be sunk
before she reached her.
The boat built for the Venezuelan navy is only
fifty-five feet long and seven feet broad. She is

propelled by steam, and can run thirteen miles in
an hour. So small a vessel in rapid motion would
stand only a small chance of being hit even in
broad daylight; and as her movements will usually
be made in the dark, she may be accounted toler-
ably safe.
The effect of a torpedo explosion is exceedingly
grand and destructive. Among other Federal ves-
sels destroyed by the Confederates was the steamer
Commodore Jones. She was sailing on the James
River, when suddenly, and without apparent cause,
she was lifted bodily out of the river, and her pad-
dle wheels revolved in mid-air. An immense fount-
ain of foaming water shot through her, and she
seemed to dissolve in a cloud of spray, mud, water
and smoke.
In October, 1863, the New Ironsides, another
Federal war ship, lay off Charleston. Late one
evening, a small object was seen approaching and
was challenged. A rifle shot, which killed the offi-
cer of the watch, came in answer, and the next
moment, a tremendous explosion shook the frigate,
deluging her deck with water, and severely injuring
her, while the torpedo-boat drifted out of sight.
A few minutes afterward, the corvette Housa-
tonic was attacked by a torpedo-boat. The boat
was seen approaching when about a hundred yards
off, and the corvette slipped her moorings and
tried to move out of the way; but in two minutes
she was struck by the torpedo, and went to the
bottom, with one hundred and fifty men clinging
to the rigging. I might mention many other in-
stances, but these three are enough to teach you
the destructive power of torpedoes.

(A Fouritk of July Stoy.)


BANG --bang I-bang! Old Martin Fruauff
rubbed his eyes and pulled off his night-cap.
I never did hear a noise like dat vas !" he said.
"I vake up meinseelf too early mit it." But he
laughed as he spoke in the best of humors, and
he got up and set about preparing his breakfast of
black coffee and toasted brown bread. Martin was
a cobbler by trade, and his little basement work-
shop served also for his bed-room, kitchen, dining-
.room and parlor. He slept on top of a big chest

in which he kept his mattress and pillows by day;
and with the aid of an oil-cloth cover and a big
napkin he turned the chest into a dining-table. He
was sipping his coffee out of his gold-bound bowl,
when there came a rapping at the door-and a boy
stepped in, wearing a very shabby pair of shoes.
I want 'em mended," said the boy, looking
at his toes, which protruded from the shoes.
All right," said Martin, "I vill fix 'em up zis






But I want to wear 'em to-day-right off-in
an hour," said the boy.
Vants me to vork on de Forf o' July," said
Martin, with a droll look. Old Martin never
vorks on de Forf. You dakes dem soomvere else."
I have," said the boy, "and they say 'No.'
You might mend 'em. I want to take the eight
o'clock boat up to Newburgh and be back time
enough to see the Park fire-works."
Dat is joost vat I do meinseelf," said Martin.
" Who go mitt you ?"
I go alone."
And I go alone," said Martin, "in de same
boat mitt you, mein bhoy."
Yes, if you'll mend my shoes," said the boy,
"else I must stay at home. I'd had 'em done be-


fore, but I did n't get some money that was owed
me until last night."
And so you dinks you'll keep de Forf mitt it,"
said Martin. "I mends 'em dees once. Coom
pack at seven o'clock, mein bhoy."
The boy nodded and went out, and Martin,
after heartily il.. .; the rest of his black cof-
fee, set about mending the shoes. It wanted just.
five minutes of seven when he finished them.
Hei! so late !" exclaimed Martin, glancing at
his big wooden clock. I most pe quick."
He brushed his boots, and had just put them on,
when the boy came back dressed very neatly in a
linen suit.
"You coom in goot time," said Martin, "and
you looke nice."

Yes," said the boy, and he sat down and pulled
a pair of stockings out of his pocket, slipped them
on, and then put on his shoes. How much is
it?" he asked.
"I don't vork on de Forf fdr mooney," said
the old man; I only vorks for pleasure."
Yes ?" said the boy, surprised. Well, I'm
obliged to you. Hope you'll have a grand Fourth."
He went toward the door as he spoke.
Shtop !" exclaimed the old shoemaker, his
face falling. I tinks you and me vas going in de
same boat."
Oh answered the boy, starting, "I did n't
understand it that way. And you are not ready at
all," he added rather impatiently.
Martin glanced down at his faded brown trousers
and rusty old-fashioned alpaca coat.
It ish de best I've got," he said. "Do I
looke too pad to go along mitt you ?"
N-o," said the boy, slowly, you look
S well enough."
Bhoys ish proud, I know," said Martin,
with a sigh. Ah, veil, in my own kountree
SI dress ver' fine on de holy days; ze leetle
S children all come to zee me. Veil, never
mind; I go alone mitt meinseelf already."
Oh, I 'd like well enough to go with you,"
said the boy, "if you '11 only hurry up so as
not to be late."
"Yaas?" said Martin, well pleased; "den
SI vill be ready in von minoot."
He plunged his face and hands in a basin
Sof water, rubbed himself dry, brushed down
the few gray hairs that surrounded his bald
head, put on a broad-brimmed straw hat,
yellowed by many seasons' wear, took a stout
black cane in one hand, and then gave the
other to his visitor.
"Now, we vill set out like too brinces,"
he said. "All de beoples in de Yooniteed
States ish brinces."
The boy laughed with him, and they started on
their way, walking briskly. As they went through
Canal street toward the Hudson River, old Martin
questioned his young companion as to his name
and occupation, and learned that his name was
Washington Hays, and that he was an errand boy
in a grocery.
"Vashington Hays," said Martin, dat is von
goot name. Vashington ish de fader of freedom.
And you carry home tings. How mooch dey bays
you ?"
Two dollars a week, and my board and wash-
ing," answered Washington, rather annoyed at so
many questions from a stranger.
"And vat you do mitt your two tollar a week ?"
continued Martin.



~i -'I; L--


"Why, I spend part and save part," answered
the boy.
Eef you savsh part, vot for you get not your
shoes mended before ?" asked old Martin. "Or,
vas de mooney not baid dill last nights? "
Oh yes," said Washington. I am paid every
week. That was some money I lent to a boy."
"And de bhoy baid you," went on Martin; "but
vat pecooms of de mooney you savsh?"
I '11 pay you," said Washington; I 'd rather,
and go alone."
Before the old man could recover from his as-
tonishment, the boy had thrust half-a-dollar into
his pocket, and was running full-speed down the
street. Martin ran too, but he was so fat that he
could not run fast, and Washington was soon out
of his sight.,
"Vell," said old Martin, I vill keep the Forf
mitout Vashington den; but vat a bhoy he vas "
So on he went alone, smiling. He reached the
boat just in time. "All aboard." He was among
the very last, and he made his way up to the upper
deck only to find that every seat was occupied.
"Dat ish too pad," he said. I tinks I looke
on de river and shmoke mein pipe in de air. Vell,
I stands up."
But he found it tiresome standing, so he went
down below, searching for a comfortable place.
Outside of the ladies' cabin he espied a narrow,
shady spot, where a boy sat all alone on a long,
low bench. Martin approached him. It was Wash-
"Hei! Vashington! ish dere room for me?"
asked the old man.
Washington started. "Yes, sir," he said, po-
litely, but not cordially.
Martin sat down and filled his pipe. Do you
shmoke ? he asked.
No, no," answered the boy, quickly, and he
made a movement as if to go away.
"I drivsh you away from me again," said the
old man. No, I vill go, or I vill not shmoke."
"I don't mind the smoke," answered the boy,
"at least not much," and he sat down again. Mar-
tin put the pipe away. "No, smoke, or I must
go away," Washington said.
Then' Martin pulled out his pipe again and
smoked away in silence a long time.
"You ish a still bhoy, Vashington," he said at
Then there was another long pause. "You
keeps up a-tinking," said the old man; "vat
you tink ?"
Washington blushed. Why," said he, I was
thinking that it was n't very polite of me to run
away from you."
Put I am mitt you vonce more," said Martin,

smiling. Only tell me vy you run away all zo
fast ? "
"It was because you asked so many questions,"
said Washington, frankly.
Ah said Martin, ven you coom to pe an
old poy like me you vill like beoples to talk mitt
you aboot yourself. Nopody asks old Martin now
how goes the voorld mitt him. Dere vas a poy
vonce who vood have cared for his old fader, but
he vas wrecked at sea. I tink you all alone like
me; dat ish de reason I dake an eenterest. I tink
your fader and mudder be dead, and you looke out
for yourself-all alone. Ish dat so ?"
Yes," answered Washington.
And de bhoy ?" went on Martin. Who ish
he ? "
"Oh, he used to work in another store with me,"
replied the boy.
And vat did he vant your mooney for ? asked
Martin, inquisitively.
Washington kept his face straight with difficulty
while he answered: He wanted just what I
wanted this morning-decent shoes. But his were
past mending. So I lent him two dollars for a
And valks mitt your toes out !" exclaimed Mar-
tin, astonished.
"Why," said Washington, "he had to have
good shoes or lose his place; but they.would n't
turn me away where I am for being out at the
Martin shook his head, more perplexed than
Vat he do mitt his money? he asked, and
vat pecooms of de mooney you savsh up?"
Washington had to laugh.
"I see I'll have to tell you," he'said. He had
to give all his money to his mother, for his little
sister was sick, and his mother could n't do any-
thing but take care of her. And his money was n't
enough, so I lent him all I had saved up, which
was n't much-only fifteen dollars. Now his sister
is well, and his mother is working again, and so he
paid me two dollars last night, and will pay the
rest when he can."
Ah you ish von grand boy cried Martin,
grasping Washington's hands. "But vy you keep
not the Forf mitt your frien' ? "
"They were all going to keep it at Central
Park," said Washington, and I wanted to see
the river, and the mountains, and the country so
Ah you loove de kountree," said Martin.
"Yes," said Washington, "and I love my
country. Don'tyou?"
Mein kountree-do I loove it?-de old Fader-
land?" cried Martin, enthusiastically. "Ah! I




loove it better dan de whole vorld." Tears came
into his faded blue eyes. It vill soom tay be free
like de.Yooniteed Staats," he said, but old Mar-
tin vill pe dead. But ve vill keep de Forf o'
July," he went on, his wrinkled face brightening,
" Ve vill see de country, ve vill eat de goot tings,
ve vill fire off de fire-voorks, and pe happy,-eef
you roon not ovay again," he added.
"Not I," said Washington.
So they kept the Fourth together, and before
the day was over Washington learned that an in-

quisitive old man may be the soul of generosity
and a friend worth having. And old Martin, as he
lay down on his chest that night, said to himself:
Ah I never did see a Forf like dees vas mitt
Vashington Hays. I vill'keep all de Forfs mitt
Vashington, and pe a fader to de poy, mitt de
leetle mooney I poot py."
And\ 'iVth,b.r was saying:
"Ah old Martin shall have some one hereafter
to ask how the world goes with him. He loves
my country, and I love him."



THE Northmen, in the seventh, eighth and ninth
centuries after the birth of Our Lord, inhabited
the great peninsula of Norway and Sweden, with
branches established in Denmark, Finland, the

These people, who have left their names all over
Europe, were never welcome anywhere. Even at
home, they quarreled among themselves. And
it would seem that when things grew uncomfort-


Faroe Islands, and all about the coasts of Northern
Europe. They were a wild, rough and tumultu-
ous race, so given to roving and adventure that
they made their appearance, at one time or an-
other in their history, in every part of Europe
which could be reached by sea. They certainly
visited the shores of the Mediterranean, and they
once held such complete possession of a part of
France that their name is still preserved in the title
of the province of Normandy. Before the time of
King Alfred, they ravaged England continually.
VOL. III.-39.

able for them in their own country, they took ship
and sailed the sea, carrying destruction and terror
wherever they went. The chiefs were called Jarls,
or Earls, and the sons of chiefs to whom were given
maritime command were called Vikings. These
were usually the younger sons, who were driven
out by contentions at home, as well as by their own
fierce desires, to find plunder and occupation in
ravaging the coasts of the rich Southlands. In
course of time, these wild sea-rovers were mas-
ters of the seas of Europe. Their captains came



to be known generally as Vikings. In these days
we should call them pirates. Would you' like to
hear the rules which one of these terrible fellows
laid down for the government of his crew? Here
is an extract which has been handed down to us in
Frithiof's Saga, or chronicle:

Not a tent upon deck, and no sleeping ashore, within houses but
enemies go.
Vikings sleep on their shields, with their swords in their hands, and
for tent have they heaven the blue.
When wild hurricanes rage, hoist the sail high above; it is blithe
on the rough rolling deep.
Let her drive, let her drive; he who strikes is afraid, and I'd rather
beneath the sea sleep.
When the merchant ye meet, ye may spare his good ship; but the
weaker his wealth must unfold.
Thou art king on the wave; he is slave of his gain, and thy steel
is as good as his gold.

There is more of this, but these lines are enough
to show you what sort of men were .the Vikings
of the North. Such a man, we may be sure,
was Flokko, who, in
the ninth century, dis-
covered Iceland. It -
was said that one Nad- -

dok had been to Ice-
land before Flokko's
voyage of discovery,
and that he, disgusted
with the coldness of the
region, which was sup-
posed to be a penin-
sula, called the land
Snowland. Then there
is another story of one
Gardar, who sailed all
about the island and
called it Gardarholm,
orGardar's Island. But
the first actual settler
is spoken of in history
somewhat disrespect-

days afterward, and after wandering in the air,
came back to the ship, showing thereby that there
was no land in sight. But this and the third, when
set at liberty after two days, mounted up into the
sky, circled about as if to take a view of the hori-
zon, and then took a straight flight into the West.
Flokko followed in that direction, and so reached
the island for which he searched.
The colony did not thrive. It was broken up,
and the colonists returned to Norway, bringing an
evil report of the land, which they called Iceland.
But in 875, ten years after Flokko's failure, one
Earl Ingolf, who had quarreled with one of his
neighbors and had killed some of his thralls, or
bondmen, found it necessary for him to flee from
the wrath of the king,-Harold Haarfager (Harold
the Fair-haired), and he ...:..!-.l;i. took his ships
and went to Iceland. Here he founded a colony
which has lasted through all the centuries-a re-
markable community.
Though Iceland was thus settled by the Vikings,

- .. -".-r


fully, as "a certain pyrate whose name was Fiokko."
Pirate he may have been, but he took with him
families, cattle and tools, as if intending to live like
an honest man.
Warned by the trials which other voyagers had
had when trying to find new lands, Flokko carried
in his ship three ravens which had previously been
consecrated by the pagan priests of Norway. Two
ravens were supposed to bring to Odin, or Woden,
the chief deity of the Northmen, news of all that
happens in the world. And Flokko relied on the
ravens to tell him when land was in sight. The
first raven, when set free, returned to the land
whence the ship had sailed; therefore, this was yet
the nearest shore. The second was let loose some

and although these sea-rovers still followed their
wave-wandering life, we must believe that they
were no longer like the pyrates" of the mainland.
One of these sailors was Gunnbiorn, who, driven
westward by a storm, soon after the settlement of
Iceland, fell upon the shores of Greenland, to
which region he gave the name of Gunnbiorn's
Rocks. He made his way home again, for the
strait between Greenland and Iceland is not so
wide but one may see the shores of each, when
midway between them, of a clear day. He gave,
like all discoverers, a very glowing account of his
new land, but none went thither until the next
In 985, Eric the Red, who, like Ingolf, had been





obliged to quit his own country on account of his
violence and crimes, went to the new land in the
West. He established a home for himself, and
three years later, he was back in Iceland with a
wonderful tale. In the quaint language of the
chronicle, In order to entice people to go to his
new country, he called it Greenland, and painted
it out as such an excellent place for pasture, wood,
and fish, that the next year he was followed thither
by twenty-five ships full of colonists, who had fur-
nished themselves richly with household goods and
cattle of all sorts; but only fourteen of these ships
arrived." The other eleven, we are left to surmise,
were wrecked on the way.
Among those who followed Eric to Greenland
was one Herjulf, a bold and skillful navigator. His
son Bjarni, or Biarne, as he is most commonly
called, was also an intrepid sailor, and a worthy
descendant of the Vikings. Returning from a
voyage to Norway, Biarne found that his father
had gone after Eric to the new land. This im-
petuous youth, without more ado, and without stop-
ping to unload his ship, immediately set sail into the
West, to find his father. He and his crew missed
the southern point of Greenland, and, after many
days of fog and violent wind, driven they knew not
whither, they came in sight of land. The country
was flat and well-wooded, but Biarne knew that it
could not be Greenland. He looked in vain for
" the high ice-hills," which he had been told to
expect. Though his men grumbled mightily, he
would not go ashore, but, sailing on the wind, as
only the Northmen then knew how, he kept on
with the land on the larboard (or left) side of the
ship. After two days and two nights of voyaging,
they approached land again. It was low and
wooded; it was not Greenland. Keeping on his
course, with a south-west wind, Biarne made land
a third time. This was an island, as the young
Viking found by sailing around it, and it was" high
and mountainous, with snowy mountains." Stand-
ing out to sea, with the south-west wind still blow-
ing, Biarne sailed for three more days and nights,
when he made the coast of Greenland. He found
his father well established at a point called Herjulf-
ness, or Herjulf's Cape.
Biarne was much blamed for his failure to ex-
plore the countries which he had seen. But he
seems to have taken matters very coolly ; and as it
was more profitable for him to carry on his trading
voyages with Norway, he made no use of his ob-
servations in the unknown Western sea. The sons
of Earl Eric, however, burned with desire to explore
the mysterious regions of which Biarne and his
crew had brought such vague accounts.
Accordingly, a family council having settled the
details, Leif, the eldest son of Eric the Red, in

looo, bought Biarne's ship, and fitted her for the
cruise. Thirty-five men, among whom was Biarne,
composed the crew, and Leif entreated his father
to take the command. The old Viking reluctantly
consented; but, on the way to the point of depart-
ure, his horse stumbled and threw his rider. This
was a bad omen to the superstitious Eric, who de-
clared that it was ordained that he should discover
no more new countries. He therefore gave up the
command to Leif, who sailed prosperously into the
Reversing the order of Biarne's voyage, Leif first
found the land which Biarne had last seen. This
region is now known as Newfoundland. Leif went
on shore. From the sea to the inland mountains
was a plain of flat stones. So he called it Hellu-
land, from hella, a flat stone. In like manner,
when, he came to the next land, which was a coun-
try covered with wood, he gave that the name of
Markland, or Woodland. The name of that region
is now Nova Scotia. The young Viking kept on
with a north-east wind, and, in two days and two
nights, made land a third time. This was un-
doubtedly on the coast of New England; pre-
cisely where, has never been satisfactorily settled.
Leif first landed on an island, where he waited for
good weather. Then, coasting along the shore-
line, he went up a river that came through a lake,
says the chronicle. Here they cast anchor and
made preparations to winter, for it was now
It is generally conceded that this was the dis-
covery by the Northmen of the coast of what is
now Rhode Island, and that Leif built his booths,
or houses, somewhere on the shore of Mount Hope
Bay, or Narragansett Bay. The hardy Green-
landers thought this a favored and rich country.
Especially were they delighted when one Tyrker,
a Southern foreigner of the company, discovered
grapes growing wild in the woods, just as one may
now see them ripening on the fir-covered and sandy
hills of Cape Cod.
This was a precious discovery to the Northmen.
Never in Iceland, nor yet in Norway, had any of
their ancestors found grapes. So, heaping up their
deck and filling their long-boat with the dried
fruit, they prepared to return to Greenland. In
the spring they set sail, taking with them speci-
mens of timber and a great store of the kinds of
wood most prized in their own country, where trees
were scarce. On his homeward voyage, Leif picked
up a shipwrecked crew, which he kindly carried to
shore. This, and his marvelous adventures in the
New World, gave him the title of Leif the Fortu-
nate. It was not long before the news reached
Europe. Vineland, as Leif called it, was known as
Vinland the Good. By this name one historian,



Adam of Bremen, heard of the land when he visited
Sweden in 1075.
If the reports which the Northmen brought back
to Europe painted the world beyond the seas in too
glowing colors, we should remember that this has
been the weakness of all explorers. The accounts
of America afterward car-
ried to Spain represented -
this to be a fairy-land.
One of those who fol- .:
lowed Columbus actually --
searched for a fountain
the waters of which would -
give eternal youth to
those who drank thereof.
An English explorer, two
hundred years ago, de- -
dared that nutmegs grew
in Maine; and, in our
day, ingenious gentlemen
who write for the news-
papers have reported, ----
and honestly believed, '
that Alaska was a fertile
and productive country,
and that there was no
snow in the Black Hills.
The hardy Vikings from Iceland and Greenland
thought that New England was a land of almost
unbroken summer. Considering what a cold and
sterile region was their home, this is by no means
During this time, Christianity had been slowly
working its way from Northern Europe across the
seas. The gods of the Northmen were many, but
the chief of these was Woden, or Odin. His eldest
son was Thor, the Thunderer, and his daughter,
Freya, was the goddess of spring, flowers, music,
and the gentle fairies. Woden has given his name
to one of the days of the week, for Wednesday was
formerly called Woden's-day. Thursday is also
derived from Thor's-day, and Friday was Freya's-
day. So, though the ;.kr o and their strange
paganism have long since vanished, these faint
traces of their ancient faith survive.
After Leif returned from his voyage to the New
World, he went to Norway, where it is supposed
he became converted to Christianity, Olaf being
then king. At any rate, he carried some Christian
priests to Greenland, much to the displeasure of
Earl Eric, it was said. This was the first planting
of the religion of Our Lord on this side of the
Atlantic. Traces of the buildings of these early
Greenland churches are still in existence to vouch
for the truth of the tale of the foundation of the
Christian faith in America.
Soon after this, Eric died, and Leif, now the head

of the family, sailed the seas no more. His brother,
Thorvald, took up the enterprise, and, in 100oo2, set
sail in Leif's ship for Vinland the Good. He found
the booths built by his brother and took possession
of them, and there he spent the winter. In the
following spring, he coasted far to the westward,

b ii~r ,,: A ;Y .f'>


and we conclude, from the description of the coun-
try which he saw, that he passed through the whole
length of Long Island Sound. Possibly, he went
as far as New York Bay, and there found another
lake through which a river flowed to the sea," of
which he spoke. The party landed on many
islands, and were enchanted with the groves of
great trees, the green grass, and the abundance
of vegetable growths which were so new and strange
to them.
Up to this time, the Ni.i..,...cr had seen no
natives. Once only had Thorvald found a trace of
them ; it was a deserted corn-house by the shore.
But during a more extended voyage of discovery
which Thorvald made during his second year on
the continent, in .oo4, he encountered three skin-
boats, set up as tents, under which nine savages
were sleeping. The Northmen probably believed
that these creatures were scarcely human. In
those days, the waste places of the earth were sup-
posed to be peopled with goblins, dwarfs, and
strange monsters. The history which relates the
adventures of the Vikings in America calls the
natives Skrmllings," a term of contempt and re-
proach, which meant "pygmies, parings, or chips."
When the nine Skraellings were found peaceably
sleeping under their boats, they were at once fallen
upon and killed by the cruel Northmen. Only one
escaped with his life. This first bloodshed by the
Europeans in the New World was a dark token of






all that was to come after. It brought woe and land. This family group, one winter, planned a
disaster to Thorvald. new expedition to Vinland the Good, and in the
While the explorers were resting in fancied spring of 1007 they sailed thither with two ships,
security, a great army of Skrallings, roused by with women, cattle and stores. They made out
the report of their escaped comrade, fell upon the the various landmarks along the coast, and, run-
Northmen and surprised them with the war-whoop, ning past Cape Cod, called it Furdustrands, or
which to Thorvald seemed to say, "Wake thou Wonderstrands, because, as they said, it was so
Thorvald and all thy companions, if thou wilt long to sail by. On the shores of Buzzard's Bay,
preserve life, and return thou to thy ship, with all which they called Stream Frith, because of its rapid
thy men, and leave the land without delay The currents, they spent their first winter. Next spring
Northmen fled to their ship and set up the wooden they went somewhere to the south, nobody knows
screen, or shield, from behind which they let fly exactly where, but it is supposed that their settle-
the arrows with which they fought. Only one man ment was fixed somewhere near what is now Mount
was wounded in the ship. When the fight was Hope Bay. Here they found the bays and inlets
over, Thorvald, drawing an arrow from a cruel full of fish, the great trees were festooned with
wound under his arm, said that this would be to grapes, and -game was abundant. Inland a little
him a mortal hurt. way were fields of "self-sown wheat,"-that is to
Now it happened that when he had been at a say, patches of Indian corn planted by the natives.
pleasant point on what we now suppose to have In this pleasant land they thought to be left to
been Cape Cod, he had said, Here I should themselves. But the Skrellings soon found them
like to raise my dwelling." So when he knew out, looked on them with amazement, and went
that he was likely to die of his wound, he made away. They were described as black and ill-
request that he be borne thither and buried. He favored, and with coarse hair on the head; they
said: It may be that a true word fell from my had large eyes and broad cheeks." After awhile,
mouth, that I should dwell there for a time; there they returned in such numbers that the sea seemed
shall ye bury me, and set up crosses at my feet and to be sowed with black coals. They bartered valu-
head, and call the place Krossaness forever in all able furs and skins for red cloth, and, when this
time to come." The chronicle relates that this was was gone, they were content to take in exchange
done, and on the fir-covered cape where Thorvald milk porridge which the Norsewomen made for
had thought to dwell, the cross of Christ, newly set them. By and by, when all was going merrily on,
up in America, marked where the young Viking, a bull belonging to Karlsefne burst from the woods
slain in fight, slept in peace. with a terrifying bellow, and charged upon the
Thorvald's companions returned to Greenland in Skrailings, who, affrighted by the strange beast,
the following spring. Another of the sons of Eric, took to their boats and fled in great dismay. For
Thorstein of Ericsfiord,

wife of the captain of the
shipwrecked crew rescued -
by Leif, set out to find ---
and bring back the body ;
of his brother. He cruised
along the New England
coast in 1005, but he
failed to find Krossaness,
or Cross Cape, and re-
turned to Greenland with-
out Thorvald's remains.
He died soon after, and
the sons of Eric knew
America no more.
But a daughter of the
Red Earl, one Freydis, -
was to go thither. She
hardy mariner, who commanded a trading ship. a long time they kept away from the colony; but
Gudrid, the widow of Thorstein, had married Thor- when they came again, says the chronicle, it was
ffinn Karlsefne, a rich trader and merchant, of Ice- like a rushing torrent.


A battle followed, and the Norsemen were worsted.
The natives outnumbered them and killed many.
The colonists took to the woods, pursued by the
once despised Skraellings. Freydis, the daughter
of Eric, vainly tried to rally the fugitives; then,
seizing a weapon from the dead body of one of her
company, she turned upon the natives, uttering
loud cries and making wild gestures. The Skrael-
lings, terrified by this strange apparition, turned
and fled. They scrambled into their boats, pad-
died away, and were seen no more. This affair
discouraged Karlsefne and his companions, who
soon afterward returned to Greenland.
Freydis, however, who seems to have been a bold
and daring woman, organized another expedition
in io i. Accompanied by two brothers, Helgi and
Finnbagi, of Iceland, with whom she and her hus-
band had formed a partnership, she set sail in the
spring and landed at the spot, now so well known
to the Northmen, where the booths originally built
by Leif were yet standing. Very soon there was
trouble in the camp. Freydis quarreled with Helgi
and Finnbagi, and plotted against their lives. In-
spired by this bad woman's counsel, her husband,
Thorvard, and his men fell upon the two brothers
and their company, as they slept in their own quar-
ters, and slew them all. There were left of these
unhappy ones five women, whom the men would
fain have spared. These the daughter of Eric, in
her rage, killed with her own hand.
A dark and gloomy winter followed this deed of
wickedness, and in the spring the colony broke up
and returned to Greenland. When Leif heard the
story of Freydis's crimes, he said : I like not to do
to Freydis, my sister, that which she has deserved;
but this will I predict, that their posterity will never
We hear no more of the family of Eric the Red.
With this sorrowful tale of crime ends the history
of the Vikings in Vinland the Good. Freydis dis-
appears in a thick, cloud of execration and shame.
We only know that the adventures and deeds of
the Vikings long thereafter lived in the chronicles
of the saga-men, or story-tellers, and in the songs
of the scalds, or poets, of the Northland. About
the feast-table, when these wonderful tales were
told again, the descendants of the Vikings heard
them with pride and shouted "Skoal!" (Hail!),
as the prowess of their ancestors stirred their war-
like fire.
When the Icelanders had a written language,
and the rude characters (or runes) which they had
used gave place to Roman letters, these sagas (or
chronicles), by word of mouth so long, were com-

mitted to writing. In ancient monasteries these
precious rolls were hoarded until they were forgot-
ten. In later years they have been gradually
brought to light, translated and partly printed.
From them we draw the story of the Northmen,
and of their voyagings in the strange wide seas.
Many books have been written to compare these
sagas with the ancient traditions of the world, as
well as to show how many well-understood facts
compel us to accept the genuineness of their his-
tory. The best account of the discovery of the
Western hemisphere by the Northmen is to be
found in the opening chapters of the popular his-
tory of the United States by Mr. William Cullen
Bryant and Mr. Sidney Howard Gay, from the ad-
vance sheets of which the illustrations to this article
were taken. In that admirable work the historical
events touched upon here are gathered into one
harmonious story.
It should be said that the Northmen left no traces
of their stay on the coast of New England. Their
colonies were too short-lived. Their entire occupa-
tion, from the time of Leif's landing to the de-
parture of Freydis and her companions, was less
than fifteen years. The Greenlanders soon had
much ado to maintain themselves in their own
adopted country, without making distant voyages.
The Esquimaux made war upon them, and plagues
swept over the land. In 1350 a dreadful disease,
called the black death, spread over Northern
Europe and Greenland. The latter country be-
came almost depopulated. Navigation ceased, and,
though voyagers said they had caught glimpses of
the land while driven before adverse storms, all
knowledge of the Greenland of Eric the Red faded
from the minds of men. It was not until after the
voyages of Columbus that Greenland was redis-
covered. But substantial masonry in ruins, with
runic inscriptions, was found to recall the memory
of the adventurous Northmen and perpetuate their
The Vikings have long since vanished from the
sea. The, tales of their prowess have become
almost as vague as the story of Ulysses, or the
history of the Trojan war. But even in the peace-
ful fleets which fleck the waters of the globe we
find some traces of the seamanship for which they
were so famed. They have left their names on
many a stormy cape of the Northern seas, and the
blood of their descendants flows in the veins of
thousands of the hardy sons of America. So, in
this New World, as we recall their fascinating story,
we lift our hands and cheer:
Skoal to the Northland Skoal! "








S\I DO not mean a whole one. Even one of these little fellows
Swho are crowing over their release frbm the egg, and over whom
Madam Partlet, their none-too-good-looking mamma, is swell-


ing her throat with delight, would be too much for a little house-
keeper to manage. Ask your ever-so-good-looking mamma,
some day when there are spring chickens in the pantry, to cut
off one leg for your first lesson in cooking poultry. Set on the
range a sheet-iron baking-pan, half full of boiling water. Lay
your chicken for ten minutes in slightly salted cold water; then
Swipe it dry and put it upon the gridiron. Set this across the
S baking-pan, taking care the water does not touch it. Cover
With another pan, and steam it half-an-hour. This cooks and
softens the outer skin, keeps in the juices and loosens the strings
j i about the knee-joint, called tendons. Have a clear, hot fire.
illi Rake down the ashes when you have taken the chicken from
its vapor-bath. Rub the upper part of the gridiron with a very
little butter. Set it over an open hole in the range, until warm
-not hot. Lay your chicken upon the gridiron. When it
fizzes on the lower side, turn it over. Repeat this turning
often, that the juices may not drip upon the coals and cause a
smoke. Don't fall into the notion which seems to be entertained
by some grown-up cooks, that the flavor of smoke does not
injure steaks, or chops, or chickens, any more than does a "bit
of a scorch." The chicken should be done in ten minutes, if
young and tender. Have ready a slice of nice dry toast; butter
it and put it upon a hot plate. Make a cut at the joint of the
chicken, to be sure the browned coat does not hide raw flesh.
Sprinkle it with salt and pepper; put half of a tea'-spoonful of butter over it, and lay on the toast. Put
a few sprays of parsley about it.


BROIL the part of a chicken as I have directed. Have ready in a tin cup a table-spoonful of butter,
half a salt-spoonful of salt, half as much pepper as you have salt, and the same quantity of mustard as
pepper. Heat to a boil on the range. Lay the chicken on a hot plate; pour the mixture in the cup
over it. Cover closely, and set in an open oven, or upon a hot register five minutes before sending to
the table.













': 1





You see him in the picture. That is Toby, with the slippers in his
mouth. He has just brought them down-stairs. Does his mistress praise
him for fetching the slippers? Not at all.
You stupid Toby," she says. I said boots; I did n't say slippers!
Boots, Toby. Go and bring them, right away!"
Off flies Toby upstairs; then down again he tumbles-Toby and the
boots in a moving bundle, which ends with a wag! The mistress says,
" Good Toby !" while Toby capers and all but laughs.
After that, he begins to beg. What does he want? The mistress
knows. She opens the little drawer and *takes out a ball. It is Toby's.
As soon as he sees it, he runs away into the hall. That is because he wants
her to hide it. She puts it under the sofa-pillow. Toby comes back.
First he looks behind the window-curtain, then under the table, then
in the corners, then at the back of the door. The ball is not in any of
these places. At last he climbs the sofa. Ah, there it is and Toby,
giving it a bite of joy, rolls it across the room, runs after, seizes, brings
it back, and stands, with a look in his eyes which says plain as words,
" Please hide it again."
But the mistre-,, says: "You must have your breakfast first. No more
ball, Toby, till you have eaten your bread-an,1-ill;."
Toby hates bread-and-milk. He eyes the plate and growls, but will
not go near it. So the mistress, who knows Toby's ways, brings his
deadly foe, Mrs. Cracker. Mrs. Cracker is an ugly, black India-rubber
doll, with the marks of Toby's teeth all over her body.
Here she comes," cries the mistress, jerking Mrs. Cracker across the
carpet. "Hurry, Toby, hurry! Mrs. Cracker will get it, if you don't."
iMr;. Cracker leans over the plate, and puts her head in the milk. This
is too much! Toby makes one bound, flings her aside, and begins to
gobble his breakfast as fast as possible. If he shows signs of stopping,
Mrs. Cracker is made to draw near. Then Toby is furious. He catches
her by the neck, stirs her round in the milk, growls hard, and eats on
till every drop of the breakfast is gone and Mrs. Cracker lies high
and dry in the empty plate. Then Toby feels that he has conquered,
wags a proud tail, and makes a queer noise, which I think must be a
song of joy.
Would n't you like to know Toby ?




I, ;

j. ACK- IN-I1 IH E-PU Ll i T.

You never saw any one so pleased as the Deacon
is, my children. Why, his face is so sunshiny that
it lights up the very grass as he walks along,-or
so it seems to me,--and all on account of the re-
markable way in which his boys and girls are send-
ing in copies of the Declaration of Independence.
Well, well! Jack could have told him that the
young folks would come out handsomely in this
Then the prizes! The pretty, shining things
stand there on the Deacon's shelf, I hear, waiting
to be awarded, and beaming with satisfaction.
What wonder It must be a very pleasant thing
to go into a family as a prize.
Jack is no orator,-so he cannot give you an
address on this grand Centennial ': Fourth." But
you can be your own orators, my chicks, and that
is better yet. Deep in your heart of hearts, let
each one of you say:
My hearer! America is a great country, and
her strength is in her honest, upright, loyal and
intelligent citizens. See to it that you become one
of them "
SOME of my birds have been talking to the sea-
gulls, and they've brought me this news:
The Atlantic Ocean was named after a mighty
mythical giant named Atlas, who, as the Greeks
believed, carried the world on his shoulders-the
same Atlas who has a great mountain-range in
Africa for his namesake.
The other great ocean did n't have to go to Greece
for a name. It just staid where it was and behaved
itself, until at last, from its peaceful aspect, it was
called the Pacific.
This is as it should be, my little Americans-
Power on one side of us, and Peace on the other.

And, what is better yet, they're permanent institu-
tions. Fifty Centennials from now, Jack (or some-
body else) will find this country trig and trim
between its oceans, with the Peace of Power its
highest virtue, and the Power of Peace its proudest
DEAR JACK: I send a true story about some birds that lived in a
tree in our yard. My pussy killed the mother bird just after the little
birds were hatched, and the papa bird was left all alone to feed them.
He attended to them one day very carefully, and the next day he re-
turned to his nest with another wife much larger than himself When
the little birds began to fly, they used to come down on our croquet
ground and hop about. One day, mamma stooped to pick one of
them up, so that the cat cot1i 3 it, when the new wife struck
her on the side of her head .: al. I..;-bill. Well, this bird looked
after the little birds and fed them till they left the nest. We think it
quite curious-don't you? EDITH STONE.

DEAR me -what next? Now, here's a story of
a fish who can live without water Who ever heard
of such a thing! This very accomplished'scaly
gentleman is a native of Africa,-where most of
the wonders come from, nowadays,-and has the
misfortune to belong to a river which dries up every
summer. Rather a discouraging circumstance to
a fish, I should say; but.this little fellow does n't
mind it. When the water gets low, he very coolly
burrows nearly two feet into the mud on the bot-
tom, and there he stays, while the hot sun dries
up the water, and bakes the mud till it is full of
deep cracks. When the water comes back, fills
the cracks, and soaks into the ground, the mud-
fish comes out as lively as ever. One of this fam-
ily has lately gone to live in an aquarium in Eng-
land, where his ways can be studied; and now we
shall know how he gets on in water all the year
round. Who can tell me his name?
DEAR JACK: We girls made lovely flower-dolls last summer, and
wont you please tell the ST. NICHOLAS girls about it, so that they can
make some this season ? We made charming little lady dolls out of
hollyhock blossoms in this way: We took a fine hollyhock flower,
broke off the outer green leaves-the calyx, I mean; then we picked
out the inside parts, so as to leave a little hole in the stem end of the
flower. Into this we stuck a poppy-head, marking features on it as
well as we could. Then we tied a long spear of grass around the
leaves, just where the waist should be; this made a pretty green sash.
Next we formed the apron out of a white rose leaf, and put a bit of
green twig through the body for arms. We thought she was com-
plete then, for she could stand alone, and she was just as pretty as
could be; but when afterward we put a daisy hat on her little head,
she was perfect.
We made other flower-dolls after that out of trumpet-creepers and
fox-gloves and all sorts of flowers, and it was real sport. Mother said
a group of our blossom-ladies standing on the lawn was a beautiful
sight to behold.
If other girls try our plan and get any new ideas, I hope, dear Jack,
they '11 send us word through you.-Your true little friends
IN the woods where I live there grows a low
shrub, with glossy, fragrant leaves, called the bay-
berry. From its small green berries a kind of wax
is obtained, of which candles are sometimes made.
But I don't believe the candles are much liked, as
I see few people picking the berries.
My friend the parrot quite despises such candles.
He thinks that the people who use them should
see those made from the seeds of the tallow-tree




which grows in the province of Malabar, in British
This tallow-tree, I am told, is very large, and has
thick, leathery leaves, varying from four to ten feet
in length. The flowers are white and very fra-
grant, and by boiling its seeds the natives obtain a
firm white vegetable tallow, which has no unpleas-
ant smell. Candles made of this tallow, my friend
the parrot says, are something worth having-
worth having, that is, if human beings will persist
in going about after dark. He thinks it very strange
that creatures with eyes made expressly for the
daylight, should wish to imitate the habits of bats
and cats and owls, whose eyes are specially adapted
to seeing things at night.

"WE lay ninety-nine eggs; if we laid one hun-
dred we should devastate the earth." It is a Mo-
hammedan legend that the Prophet found this
motto written on the wings of a locust, an insect as
nearly related to the grasshopper as the Moham-
medan is to a Yankee.
Last May, the farmer in Eastern Kansas who

I \ -I

St n T bi a i,

Minnesota boys and girls, who were paid for
I -'

saw ten acres of corn entirely eaten between ten
o'clock Saturday morning and four o'clock Sun-
day afternoon, and who caught ninety-eight grass-
hoppers with one sweep of his hand, must have
thought the hundredth egg was hatched at last.
But the hum of the vast swarms was soon lost
to the northward. Then bird and parasite, and
Minnesota boys and girls, who were paid for

gathering them so much a bushel, soon ended the
brood of jumping fiddlers; for as truly as the cricket
sings; so truly does the grasshopper play the fiddle.
Any how-if he does n't play the fiddle, he does
something like it, as each of you may prove if you
will watch him when you hear him playing his
monotonous tune. When he begins to play "he
bends the shank of one hind-leg beneath the thigh,
where it is lodged in a furrow designed to receive
it, and then draws the leg briskly up and down
several times against the projecting lateral edge
and veins of the wing-cover." A learned natural-
ist, named Harris, once wrote this, and your Jack
repeats it. It is plain enough if you remember
that thefi-ont wings are called wing-covers, as they
are used for protection and not for flight. Grass-
hoppers play the fiddle on each side alternately,
supporting themselves, meanwhile, as well as they
can. Who knows why they do it?

THE Little Schoolma'am made the Deacon laugh
the other day. Because the dear child had a bit
of stiff linen about her pretty throat, the Deacon
accused her of wearing a man's collar. They had
a few words about "women aping the styles of
men," as the Deacon jocosely put it, when the
little lady laid him down gently with a description
of the dress of a Malay priest which she had found
in Dr. Livingstone's book. This was it, as nearly
as your Jack can remember:
A long rose-colored silk dress, and over it one
of white gauze, trimmed with three broad flounces,
[the Little Schoolma'am said something about
"bias," whatever that means], sleeves full, and
trimmed with lace. The whole thing perfectly
suitable for a lady to wear to a party. Over this,
however, was a man's white waistcoat, and a belt,
in which weapons were stuck. A white turban
covered his head, and the toilet was completed by
a large lace veil (like a bride's), which was thrown
over his head, and half covered him !

WHAT do you say to a flower bigger than a
dining-plate, and weighing three or four pounds?
What a button-hole bouquet that would make,-
especially if you added one of its leaves, over
eight feet across! This is the giant flower of the
world,-I 'm sure,-and it is a water-lily which
grows in South America, near the giant river of
the world. Just fancy a pond covered with these
enormous leaves, each weighing about a dozen
pounds, and covered with ..i -:- :.-d water-birds,
of all sorts, who run about on them, without the
least danger of wetting their toes. And think of
the buds, as big as your head, and the large white,
fragrant flowers!
Should n't you like one of those leaves for a boat,
to sail about in?
THE Deacon says, look out for the Declara-
tion prizes" next month.




(Illustrated by a Young Contributor.)


ONCE upon a time, there was a young girl who, with her aunt,
lived all alone. Auntie Louise, the young girl called her aunt. Auntie
Louise lived on a nice little farm, three miles from the village where
was her post-office, and where she and Annie attended church.
Her neighbor on the right, a wise and good man, worked the land
for her; and his boy milked the two cows, and fed the fat little pony
that she kept
Now, Auntie Louise was wise-for a woman. She taught Annie
grammar, arithmetic and algebra, history and geography; to knit
and to sew, to make butter and cheese and bread (the lightest, whitest
bread that ever you ate was Auntie Louise's); she taught Annie
music also, both vocal and instrumental.
Auntie Louise was not old or cross. Annie was just sixteen, and
Auntie Louise was thirty-two. I will tell you how they came to be
all alone on a farm. Fifty years ago this Centennial year, Louise's
father and mother began housekeeping, as gay and happy as two
young robins. In the course of time three children were born to
them. The eldest, a daughter, married and removed to a distant
State; the second, a son, married and brought his bride home; and
then Louise, the youngest, was sent away to be educated. She
wished to become a teacher. She completed a course of study, taught
a few years; then the father's health failed. He wanted daughter
Louise to come home; the dutiful daughter came, and gradually be-
came eyes and hands and feet to her failing father. Only a few
years, and then he was laid in the village church-yard; a few months,
the mother followed him ; then, only a year after, a fever took Annie's
father and mother, and left them alone. Louise and Annie were
almost heart-broken.
There is nothing left to us but the old home, Annie," Auntie
Louise said one morning; and we will stay here until we, too, are
carried out to lie down by the side of those who have gone before."
The old home was so dear to them, they would not willingly see it
pass into strangers' hands. They had lived alone two years, and
Auntie Louise began to feel that Annie needed more companionship.
So, one day, she asked Annie if she would not like to go away to
"And leave you, darling auntie? I can never find so good a
teacher as you. If you think I need more companions, let us go out
more; let us visit the people in the village oftener."
With all my heart, Annie. Our parents, yours and mine, were
most social and hospitable; we can but please them in doing so.
But you know, Annie, we cannot go out evenings much without an
Well, auntie dear, don't bother yourself about it one bit; you are
all I have left in the world, and I cannot leave you. Shall I go now
for my ride?"
Auntie Louise had taught Annie how to manage Neddie, the fat
little pony; and he was a little fly-away too sometimes, but, withal,
the best-natured little fellow in the world. He was always so im-
patient to start, but not a step forward would he take, though he
would paw the ground, first with one little foot, then with the other,
until Annie and Louise were all ready. Then how he would fly, for
such a fat little body !
This particular afternoon Annie was going to the woods, on horse-
back, to look for autumn leaves (it was a beautiful October day), run-
ning pine, and other evergreens.
Away cantered Neddie, as glad to be out in the beautiful sunshine
as Annie herself When they came to the woods, fastening Neddie's
bridle to a low branch of a hickory-tree, Annie began her search.
On she went-now a strip of running pine, now a fallen leaf more
beautiful than any she had gathered, again a delicate fern, leading
her on until she was thoroughly tired. She sat down to rest at the
foot of a great pine-tree. The soft wind sighing in the branches
above made plaintive music; but it accorded well with Annie's heart,
which had beaten little but minor music since she and Auntie Louise
had been left alone.
Presently, a dainty little lady stood before her-a dainty little lady,
smiling and holding out to her a tiny bunch of autumn leaves, the
loveliest she had ever seen. Annie asked her to sit down, but she
No. I must not stay; my friends are waiting for me in yonder
dell. Take the leaves; they were gathered on purpose for you.
They possess a peculiar power. You have only to wave them three
times before Neddie's eyes, and he will instantly become a most
polished gallant"
"But I would rather have him as he is," said the astonished Annie.
You have only to wave them three tmnes before the eyes of your
gallant, and he will become Neddie, the fat pony, again; and do you
not see that when you and Auntie Louise wish to go out evenings,
you can drive Neddie, carrying these leaves with you? and when
you reach any place, you have only to wave these leaves before Ned-
die's eyes three times, and you have a gentleman attendant. Then,
when you wish to return, he will lead you to your carriage; you wave

the leaves three times before his eyes, and he becomes Neddie again,
ready to take you home."
"Oh, wont that be nice for Auntie Louise!" cried Annie, lifting
her eyes to thank the lady; but she was gone, and the bunch of tiny
autumn leaves lay in her lap. They were very elastic and tough,
and were fastened firmly in a little silver holder. In examining them,
Annie touched a spring, and, lo! a silver leaf sprang out and rolled
quickly around all the others, and then they were nicely protected
and easily carried in her pocket. She started up, and ran until she
came in sight of Neddie.
"Oh, such a secret, Neddie, you could never guess! Auntk
Louise shall be the first to try it! and springing on Neddie's back,
she cantered gaylyhome. Louise was arranging a bouquet of pansies
on the porch when Annie came up.
Oh, auntie, the queerest thing she began.
"Why, Annie, where is your hat?-and how warm Neddie is' "
"My hat just tumbled off the other side of the barn. I will go
and get it. But just listen, and just see here," drawing from her
pocket the wonderful little roll, and touching the spring that unrolled
the silver leaf. We have only to wave this three times before Ned-
die's eyes and he becomes a fine gentleman, ready to attend us every-
where." Then she told her about the little lady in the woods, and
all that she said. Auntie Louise did not seem as much surprised as

S, ,, f '

'e on w
s Iee b t, '1. a
/ -- : I [ -- .

*'- i- Wi i' 1 .


Annie thought she would. You are to try it first," she concluded,
springing from the pony.
Louise took the mysterious leaves and waved them solemnly three
times before Neddie's eyes, and behold the pony was nowhere to be
seen, but there stood an elegant gentleman, with his hat in his hand,
politely bowing to Miss Louise and her niece. Annie brought him a
chair, and for an hour the learned gentleman entertained them with
descriptions of European life and travel. Then, suddenly remember-
ing that it was time for Neddie to have his evening meal of hay and
oats, Auntie Louise waved the bright leaves three times before the
eyes of Mr. Pemberton (that is the name the gentleman gave him-
self), and there stood Neddie, equipped in saddle and bridle, just as
Annie had left him. Annie led him away to the barn.
"Wont it be convenient, auntie?" asked Annie when she came
Nothing could be more so," returned Auntie Louise.
You may think it strange, but Louise and Annie did not avail them-
selves of the magic leaves until the week before Christmas.
The sewing society had been very busy all the latter part of the
summer and all the fall, meeting once in two weeks, sewing for a
missionary box, then for the two or three poor families in the town.
Auntie Louise and Annie met with them quite often, because they
could drive Neddie and be at home by dark.
Now, for a few -weeks, the society had been preparing for a fair,
which was to be held one evening a week before Christmas. Annie
wished much to attend the fair.
Let us try the charm, auntie," said she.
Very well, Annie; but it must be kept a secret."
So they bade the boy harness Neddie to the little carriage, and they
drove away just after sunset. Reaching the village, Annie stepped
from the carriage, and, waving the leaves, the gentlemanly attendant
stood by them, and Neddie was gone.
"Do not forget that I am Mr. Pemberton," said a low, pleasant




voice, as he led them to the door of the lecture-room where the fair
was held.
An apron and neck-tie festival was to be held besides, and Annie
was in a flutter lest Mr. Pemberton's neck-tie should not match Aunt
Louise's apron; but it did, and Annie was delighted. Their friends
were almost guilty of staring at the stranger, so fine a gentleman he
appeared. Auntie Louise introduced him to one and another as Mr.
Pemberton, lately returned from Europe; and every one who listened
to his discourse was charmed. The three spent a most delightful
When it was time to go, Mr. Pemberton took them to the carriage.
Annie waved the leaves before his eyes, and there was Neddie im-
patient to go home. The farm-boy was waiting in the kitchen to
care for him.
After this, they drove Neddie wherever they wished to go, trans-
forming him into Mr. Pemberton when they wished an attendant. It
was so convenient and pleasant, when they were a little early or a
little late at church, and no one saw them, to have only to step out of
their carriage and transform Neddie into Mr. Pemberton; then there
was some one to wait upon them into their pew, and find the readings
and the hymns.
What a treasure Neddie was A gentleman called one day, ask-
ing if Miss Louise would sell her pony.
Sell Mr. Pemberton ri. ...:i.r ,;.,:
"We do not wish to s,-" I-....., ,.. -. I Miss Louise, with dignity
that was assumed to hide her mirth.
S"Did you ever, auntie ? Sell Neddie Sell Mr. Pemberton "
said Annie, when the .. .il ...... had gone. I wonder how much
Mr. Pemberton would .11 I ;.....I.worth! I'll go this minute to the
stables and bring him in."
And so she did. He smiled, remarking that he thought himself far
too valuable -
What is that ? Neddie neighing impatiently where he is tied below
the hill; Annie just waking under the pine-tree on the hill-top !

Why! how long can I have been asleep ?"
Again Neddie's shrill whinny.
"Neddie! Mr. Pemberton! Oh, what a dream!" exclaimed
Annie, gathering up her pines and her autumn leaves hastily. And
this part of her dream came true:


S --- ..
I .

V/- ] -" i 1, I/r


She did canter gayly home: she did find Auntie Louise on the
porch arranging a bouquet of pansies; and Auntie Louise did say:
" Why, Annie, where is your hat? and how warm Neddie is "
K. D


THE announcement of the award of the prizes offered by Deacon
Green for the best copies of the Declaration of Independence, will.
be printed in the August number.

Hudson, 1876.
DEAR JACK: I am visiting my friend Hattie Forshew. We are
both twelve years old, and this morning we made a cake from the
receipt in the ST. NICHOLAS for May. The cake proved excellent.
It was large enough for each one of the family to have a s- all piece.
We helped each other in making it. When it was done and frosted
it looked very nicely.
The beef-tea we intend to make when we have an opportunity.
We like the receipts very much.-Your friends,

F. H. S.-We do not expect to publish any stories for translation
until cool weather. We shall give our young French and German
scholars a rest.

MARY G. YOuNG'S questions about her canaryhavereceived variety
.of answers. Willie Hayden says that when his canary would not
bathe, Willie's mother took a brush and sprinkled him slightly, and
:that after undergoing this process-a few times Master Canary con-
cluded to take a bath regularly for himself. This treatment is also
recommended by Nellie Emerson and by A Bird-raiser," who writes:
It is a rare exception that a canary-bird should fail to wash when
well, though I have known a few instances. One authority suggests
sprinkling the bird, as this causes them to be obliged to prune their
feathers and set them straight, etc.
Overgrown claws seem the next trouble with Mary's bird. This is
not called a disease, but has a bad effect, as it makes the canaries
niope and refuse food. The claws must be trimmed with a pair of
scissors, taking care not to cut clo I. ....... -. draw blood. By
holding up to the light, you can see:.. I.. .. the toes the blood-
vessels extend. Hold the bird firmly, but gently; do not be in too
great a hurry.
Florence A. Meniam thinks that if the seed-vessels were taken
away, and the bath put in with some seeds in the bottom of it, when

the bird should get hungry it would go into the bath to get the
seeds, and, finding no harm came by it, would get into the habit
of taking its bath."
Finally, Grace Glessner writes:
I have a yellow canary who will not bathe in his cage; but we fill
a large plate with water, put it on the oil-cloth with a chair over it,
open the cage, and soon he splashes about beautifully. To prevent
'..- .1: .....1. the perches as large round as can go between the
S.: .. the claws smooth and short.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have had at different times in our
family five tame crows as pets, and, strange to relate, they all of
them hopped !
Now, I do not want the successful young folks who, some months
ago, puzzled over the "hoppers and walkers," to think they were
mistaken; nor do I want the Little Schoolma'am to think that I
question her knowledge. The facts of the case are that we are both
Calling to mind the peculiarities of our crows, one of them still
alive, I found it hard to reconcile my experience with that of the hun-
dreds and hundreds who detected the four mistakes in the bird-story;
so I applied to a naturalist for information. He told me that the nat-
ural gait of a crow was a sort of waddling walk, but that they do IWp
when in a hurry.
Tame crows are generally in a hurry, and nearly always in mis-
chief. I have been quite lame for over a year, and never take a step
which can be avoided; but one day last fall I was pretty thoroughly
exercised in trying to put three crows out of the dining-room. In the
center of the room stocd a large extension-table, and the way in
which those crows hopped in and out, and under and around, would
have convinced even the Little Schoolma'am, could she have been
there to see, that crows do sometimes hop, and actively too.
Crows make excellent pets for people who need to cultivate patience.
They are very intelligent, very cunning, and extremely mischievous.
Anything that they can carry off will mysteriously disappear, and
what they cannot take away they will peck at and destroy. One of
our crows once got on the stove, and danced up and down in the
most absurd manner until I flew to his rescue. ]t seemed strange
that, with all his cunning intelligence, he did not know enough to
spread his wings and fly from his hot perch.
Another could never'go into the garden without being attacked by





king-birds. They would fly upon him and peck him, and actually
drive him into the house.
The crow which still exists in the family belongs to my sister. He
will not let .. ..I. 1* ....:.[ 1.-. and if one attempts to tease him by
doing so, he ill I .r rlh: i'- 'n and peck sharply. When I walk
about the garden, he will catch the edge of my skirt and hop after
me, occasionally taking a swing. He is no favorite of mine, and he
knows it, although I am always kind to him; but I am too much of a
bird-defender to like a crow.
I suspect that the secret of the attacks of the king-birds was that
Dandy Jim had meddled with their nests. Still, let' us give the crow
his due. He is bright and amusing and capable of being taught a
variety of tricks, and his one saving grace is a fond affection for any
one who is fond of him. MRs. S B. C. SAMUELS.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAs: Will you please tell me if "Mississippi" is
the Indian word meaning Father of Waters ? Bancroft's History
calls the river Mississippi from the time of its discovery, but does not
tell us whether the Indians gave it that name.-Your little friend,
The name Mississippi is derived from two Indian words (spelt by
some authorities liche sepe," and by others Missi sipi"), mean-
ing "Father of Waters." The words have also been translated The
Great River" and "The Great Water."

Aiken, South Carolina, April x7th.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I send you a simple narration, in rhyme, of
a little incident among the children here, which I fancy it might please
them, as well as other children, to see in print. Nearly every child
in the house seems to be a subscriber to your magazine.

On Easter morn, at fair West View,
The guests all tried what they could do
To please the little girls and boys
Who left at home their games and toys,
Their skates and sleds and loved snow-balls,
To live some months where no snow falls.
So, as they could not have their sled,
The cook stained eggs bright blue and red,
And one sweet lady 'mong the guests
By this contrivance was impressed
To make their bright and loving eyes
Grow brighter with a glad surprise.
She hid away in various places
E'.-- painted with fair shapes and faces;
i I up with ribbons red and blue,
Fair, pretty things they were to view.
So off they went for Easter eggs,
And sadly tired their little legs,
Poking about i. all odd places,
Without regard to dirty faces.
Then, rushing in with shout and bound,
To show the wonders they had found.
Oh, see how pretty what a treat !
I never saw eggs look so sweet."
These are too good to eat, mamma;
1 '11 take mine with me in the car."
"Now is n't this a jolly go?
I never saw eggs dressed up so!"
One little boy of three or four
To dear mamma the treasure bore,
And, opening wide his wondering eyes,
Grown larger with the strange surprise,
Said, thoughtful as a youthful Gibbon,
How could the hens put on the ribbon? "

AUGUSTA CARTER, of Baltimore, wishes us to call attention to the
following account of a supplement to the Declaration of Independ-
ence, made fifty years ago by one of the original signers:

Suffplemental Declaration to the Declaration of Independeonce,
by Charles Carroll, of Carrollton.
The V. .-, -lately contained the follow-
ing arti- i. .. : .. r .i .,i ;.. -II of Carrollton, the only sur-
vivor in 1826 of the men who signed the Declaration of American
In the year 1826, after all save one of the band of patriots whose
signatures are borne on the Declaration of Independence had de-
scended to the tomb, and the venerable Carroll alone remained among
the living, the government of the city of New York deputed a com-
mittee to wait on the illustrious survivor and obtain from him, for
deposit in the public hall of the city, a copy of the Declaration of
1776, graced and authenticated anew with his sign manual. The

aged patriot yielded to the request, and affixed, with his own hand,
to a copy of that instrument, the grateful, solemn, and pious supple-
mental Declaration which follows:
"' Grateful to Almighty God for the blessings which, through Jesus
Christ our Lord, he has conferred on my beloved country in her
emancipation, and on myself in permitting me, under circumstances
of mercy, to live to the age of eighty-nine years, and to survive the
fiftieth year of American Independence, and certify by my present
signature my approbation of the Declaration of Independence adopted
by Congress on the 4th of July, 1776, which I originally subscribed
on the second day of August of the same year, and of which I am
now the last surviving signer,-I do hereby recommend to the present
and future generations the principles of that important document as
the best earthly inheritance their ancestors could bequeath to them,
and pray that the civil and religious liberties they have secured to my
country may be perpetuated to remotest posterity and extended to the
whole family of man.
"'August 2, 1826."' "

WE have received a great many answers to H. E. H.'s question
regarding the origin of the phrase, Consistency, thou art a jewel;"
and all of them agree in tracing it to a ballad called "Jolly Robyn
Roughhead," published in Murtagh's Collection of Ancient English
and Scotch Ballads, 1754. The following stanza is given by all, in
support of this authority :

Tush! tush, my lasse! Such thoughts resigned.
Comparisons are cruell;
Fine pictures suit in frames as fine;
Consistencic's a jewell.
For thee and me coarse clothes are best-
Rude folks in homelye raiment drest-
Wife Joan and goodman Robyn."

One of our correspondents adds the following: Mr. Richard Grant
White says that he has never succeeded in finding Murtaugh's Col-
lection,' and doubts if 'Robyn Rough-head' be a genuine old ballad.
He thinks the fourth line of the above stanza, like the second, is
probably an adaptation of a saying much older than Shakspeare-
to whom it is commonly attributed. Mr. White says that he has
never been able to discover the origin of the phrase."

Baltimoi. .. i 1876.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Will you please tell -..- I.. ,i-.., line is
taken from : "And fools who came to scoff remained to pray"?-
Yours truly, FANNY N. OSBURs.
The quotation is a line from "Thl Deserted Village," by Oliver

Mlarysville, Cal.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like a good dog. I like some dogs a good
way off. I have a dog that is very good to keep meat from spoiling;
he will bite a piece of beef broiled and buttered on both sides. Some
S; :.i. ..i and some are not. My dog is yellow and white,
... t i .11 .... calico dog. Som e .. 1 .. .L.-.i.. .r .1. .
they will take a litth ,. Ji. i .... J ,..i .,..: I ... .. .... i..
neck, and take him .11. i. -.. ..-. I .. .. ... ....I Ltr..
must be sick. I know a dog that bit 'i. : r ..
either the boy or the dog, but the boy got after him with an old hoe-
handle, and beat him until his sister called the dog into the house,
and sat down oa him, to keep the boy away. She said that boy was
a wicked beast, and so he was. I would n't do anything near so bad
as that. I have heard of does that, when they saw their master
drowning, would run and pull him out by the teeth. I am afraid if I
was drowning, and there was no one to save me t;rt ... ., I should
never have another chance to drown. I guess I 11 r.1 ., chances
Son dry land, anyhow. EUGENE.

MADDIE H. sends the Letter-Box this dainty French riddle, trust-
ing that it may be new to American boys and girls:
A French girl received the following love-letter. Who can read it ?
(Answer will be given next month):
"ADiLE: Janvier, Fevrier, Mars, Avril, Mai, Juin, Juillet, Aout,
Septembre, Octobre-tu tu tu tu tu tu, m'aime? ADOLPHE."

THE correct answer to L. M 's problem in the April number is
$45 and the boots," and it has been received from the following
boys and girls: Arnold Guyot Cameron, Carrie B. Wells, Cleveland
Boy," S. P. Maslin, Willie T. Sheffield, J. M. Paton, John H. H.,
and Thomas E. Jefferson.





I AM composed of sixteen letters. My 3, 16, io, 13, 2 is a large FILL the first blank with a certain word, and the second with the
and bright constellation. My 4, 9, 7, 8, 15 is one of the mechanical same word curtailed.
powers. My r, 12, 3, I, 6 is part of a wheel. My I1, 5, 13, 3, 12 x. In the we found your 2. Will it harm the to
is a vessel. My 14, T- 6. was a deity for whom a day of the it? 3. The was burned in the fire. 4. Where did
week was named. 1i : is a proverb. ISOLA. have his ? 5. On the I will draw a of the house.
CHARADE. 6. I think the is too away. CYRIL DEANE.
WITHIN my first the traveler rests and dreams; A CHARADE FOR 1876.
My next names one of Scotland's famous streams;
My third sometimes the porcine frame surrounds; MY first, if you will read aright,
My fourth is one of five familiar sounds; Graces the queenly rose,
My fifth and sixth together you may take, And floats from blossoming hill and vale
And something found in architecture make. On every breeze that blows.
If you are that denoted by my whole, It wears a crown, and yet its head
You are a patient, persevering soul. L. W. H. Oft rests in lowly spot;
'Tis known among the rich and great,
PICTORIAL DIAMOND PUZZLE. And in the poor man's cot.
Its course, like true love's, is not smooth;
(Substitute the name of each picture for the picture itself, and find a It meets tvith scorn and frown ;
diamond puzzle.) It sees great changes, but through all
Still wears the regal crown.

Without my second's aid you ne'er
Could boldly utter No;
The sun himself would cease to shine:
We'd have no rain or snow.
SThe Frenchman gay could never dress
^ Eut deshabille again;
Nor could he say his lady-love
Appeared with skirts en train.

SMy third is very near, and if
To seek it you should try,
I You '11 find it in the darkest nights,
SWhen least you think it nigh.

My fourth the lawyer often writes
Upon his brief with care;
S .i But with a partner it appears,
And has a foreign air.

My whole with hopes and fears is fraught,
T'Tis old, and yet 'tis young;
Its history is still untold,
7 Its songs are yet unsung.


.. .---


TRANSPOSE the letters in the following sentence and you will find
three articles of furniture: A Maple Latch Rib. c. u.

x. A PECULIAR bird. Apart. 3. Part of a plant. 4. To decay.
5. A preposition. 6. A consonant. E.

THE initials and finals name an officer of the Revolutionary war.
x. A celebrated exclamation. 2. A mason's tool. 3. Part of a ship.
4. A precious stone. 5. A French coin. IsoLA.

It brnnps thought of ruins old,
I i ...'.i,;..- fine and rare,
Of cruel war, of meek-eyed peace,
Of all things new and fair.
O poets, weave your sweetest verse
To chronicle its fame;
And all ye wise and witty ones,
Now give to it a name.

M. W.

CHANGE the initial of a word often applied to a quantity of bread,
and get to secure; again, and get part of a ship; again, and find a
fastening; again, and discover to mate; again, and you will get what
most boys like to possess. c.

i. BEHEAD a river in the United States, and find a title. 2. Curtail
the river, and find a fruit. 3. Syncopate the river, and find a sound.
4. Transpose the title, and find a Shakspearean king. 5. Transpose
the fruit, and find to gather; again, and find to diminish. 6. Trans-
pose the sound, and get a jump; again, and get an inclosure;
again, and find an excuse. 7. Syncopate to gather, -4-1 -t.
blow. 8. Curtail the fruit, and obtain a vegetable. 9. I: ..1 I.
inclosure, and get a liquor. io. Behead the excuse, and get a meadow.
II. Curtail the title, and find a part of the body. ISOLA.

FILL the first blanks with words made by dividing the word chosen
for the remaining blank.
X I was not, with so small a--, to make the business a -
one. 2. Unless he could -- prejudices, he had no other -
than to leave the country. 3. I saw at my offered him
which showed there had been great since the simple customs of
earlier days. 4. To would not have been deemed -
by the Whigs in Revolutionary times. 5. She, taking his --, -
him away from the delicate toy he so roughly B.



(Prefix the same syllable of two letters to the name of each of the objects represented, and form a word.)


REBUS, No. T.-" Honor and shame from no condition rise:
Act well your part-there all the honor lies."
NUMERICAL ENIGMA.-Light gains make heavy purses.
CHARADE, No. i.-Canton.
A R 0 MA
PICTURE PUZZLE.-Be above oppressing those beneath you.
H-I R A-M-

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.-Iceland, Volcano.
C -om- 0
E -ar- L
L -aconi- C
A -nn- A
N -ewto- N
D -od- 0
CHARADE, No. 2.-Nobility.
DIAMOND PUZZLE.-A, Apt, April, Tin, L.
REBUS, No. 2.-" Imperial Caesar, dead, and turned to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away."

Maxwell W. Turner and Marion Abbot answered correctly all the puzzles in the May number.
ANSWERS TO SPECIAL PUZZLES in the same number were received, previous to May 18, from Nelly Perry, "Alex," Arnold Guyot
Cameron, E. D. Hennessy, Marien McG. Dwight, Nellie Emerson, "Violet, Lily-of-the-Valley, and Heliotrope," Allie Bertram, Golden
Eagle." Martin Sampson, E. L. M., Nettle Marcellus, "Cad," Harriet Brewer, Charlie Hotchins, Nellie Chase, Frieda E. Lippert, Charles
S. Riche, Lulie M. French, Archie Wellington, Eddie H. Eckel, Nellie S. Smith, Brainerd P. Emery, Lulie," Ethan Alien, Tillie Alden
Plume, Martin W. Sampson, Henry 0. Fetter, Grace and Lucian Tripp, Camilla Ridgeley, Grace D. Hubbard, Fred Cook, Howard Steele
Rodgers, Willie Dibblee, A. E. and C. Mestre, Emily Dibblee, Lillie J. Studebaker, John Hinkley, Herbert P. Moore, Hodena," Alice
L. Campbell, Belle W. Brown, "Captain Nemo," "Killdeer," Nellie A. Morton, Albert Strong, Nessie E. Stevens, F. L. O., Mary L. Boyd,
Minnie W. Hitchcock, Carrie S. Simpson, Louie Lawrence, E A. Townsend, Emma Tritch, Willie H. Johnson, Wilson Rockhill, Fannie
Townsend, "Apollo," R. L. Parsons, S. Clinton Willets, Nellie Kellogg, L. A. Kittinger, Nell T. Davis, Robert L. Groendycke, Fannie H.
Smith, Carrie Lawson, Annie Hayden, C. W. Horner, Jr., H. Engelbert, May P. Daly, Lilla M. Rowland, John Pyne, Lou," E. N. Hughes.





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