• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Ferrucci and his foes
 My riches
 Little Johnny and the mosquito...
 How the children cruised in the...
 Windsor Castle
 A September evening (picture)
 The land of the grigs
 The legend of Antwerp
 A taste for reading
 John Bottlejohn
 Our colonial coins
 Two of them
 The races at Shark Bay
 The buck-skin breeches
 The boy emigrants
 My ship on the ocean
 A children's party
 The bumble-bee
 Rosy
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 How Tommy came home
 Young contributor's department
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas.
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Full Citation
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00038
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas.
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: -c1943.
 Subjects
Subject: Children's literature
Literature for Children
 Notes
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00038
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
    Ferrucci and his foes
        Plate
        Page 681
        Page 682
    My riches
        Page 683
    Little Johnny and the mosquito (pictures)
        Page 684
    How the children cruised in the Water-witch
        Page 685
        Page 686
        Page 687
        Page 688
    Windsor Castle
        Page 689
        Page 690
        Page 691
        Page 692
        Page 693
        Page 694
        Page 695
    A September evening (picture)
        Page 696
    The land of the grigs
        Page 697
        Page 698
        Page 699
    The legend of Antwerp
        Page 700
        Page 701
    A taste for reading
        Page 702
        Page 703
    John Bottlejohn
        Page 704
        Page 705
    Our colonial coins
        Page 706
        Page 707
        Page 708
    Two of them
        Page 709
    The races at Shark Bay
        Page 710
        Page 711
        Page 712
    The buck-skin breeches
        Page 713
        Page 714
    The boy emigrants
        Page 715
        Page 716
        Page 717
        Page 718
        Page 719
        Page 720
        Page 721
        Page 722
        Page 723
    My ship on the ocean
        Page 724
        Page 725
    A children's party
        Page 726
        Page 727
    The bumble-bee
        Page 728
    Rosy
        Page 729
        Page 730
        Page 731
        Page 732
        Page 733
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 734
        Page 735
    How Tommy came home
        Page 736
        Page 737
    Young contributor's department
        Page 738
        Page 739
    The letter-box
        Page 740
        Page 741
        Page 742
    The riddle-box
        Page 743
        Page 744
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text

































































STATUE OF FERRUCCI, IN FLORENCE.















ST. NICHOLAS.


SEPTEMBER, 1876.


FERRUCCI AND HIS FOES.

BY R. H. D.


IF this soldier could speak and tell us why he
turns such a grim face to the world, and holds his
flag with so fierce a grip, we should hear a chapter
,of one of the strangest stories in history. The
story belongs to a stretch of country in middle
Italy (you can find it on your map), reaching
from the sea-coast to the high hills, over malarious
marshes through which no traveler will pass, any
more than through the Dead Sea.
A thousand years before our Lord was born, be-
fore ancient Rome (dead and buried ages ago) was
ever heard of, a mysterious people suddenly took
possession of this country. No human being knows
to this day whence they came; not a man or
woman among them betrayed that secret. They
-were a dwarfish, thick-set race, with black hair and
eyes, very different from the tall, graceful Greeks.
They worshiped drunken, death-dealing gods, and
every day tried to put them in a good humor by
human sacrifices; or rather, to be precise, they left
these murderous gods and murderous feasts to the
priests to attend to, and went about their other
business. Now you would hardly guess what this
business was. When we go back into these
moldering, gray regions of time, we expect to be
met by men in skins, but little better than the
beasts that they hunted. These men, surrounded
by skin-clad, beast-hunting nations, built for them-
selves comfortable and splendid homes, where the
wife ruled equal with the husband; they dressed in
richly embroidered garments, and fine linen of their
own weaving; played upon many instruments, in-
vented bronze, filled their houses with statues, vases,
and pictures of fantastic design. If any fighting was
tobe done, they hired soldiers to do it, and remained
VOL. III.-46.


comfortably at home, trading, farming, or building
towns to which magnificent aqueducts brought
water, and beneath which were vast systems of
sewers and drains, such as none of our modern
cities can equal.
This mysterious people long ago disappeared
from off the face of the earth, but some of their
great bronzes and marbles remain, and every year
vessels of their wonderful pottery are dug up out of
the ground. Some of their necklaces and jewels,
crusted gray with time, are among the wonders of
the Exposition. You will find in many an American
cabinet, a red or yellow unglazed vase or urn with
black figures of strange men and women upon it;
they are at prayer, or eating, or marrying, but even
about the death-ded they are dancing, or in some
way making the best they can of their lives. These
are portraits which the Etruscans made of them-
selves thousands of years ago. If it were not for
these bits of clay, they would seem to us but a fable
of the old ages.
One of their cities was named Fiesole, and as it
stood on too high ground for the market-people to
climb with their produce, a few sheds were put up
at the base of the hill, under which they could trade.
The sheds grew, in course of time, into a hamlet;
the hamlet into a busy trading-town. Etruscans
and Romans here bought, and sold, and married
together. Money ruled; Firenze (or Florence, as
we call it) was but a great market-place; the wealthy
traders became princes, while the man without
money was a slave except in name.
The boy who reads ST. NICHOLAS is apt to think
very little about money. He is not likely, however
poor, to grovel before his rich neighbor. He knows


VOL. III.


No. Ii.






FERRUCCI AND HIS FOES.


that knowledge is cheap and work plenty, and that
he has free chance to win power or fortune. But
any boy, born poor in Florence, knew that there
was no chance for him; the collar was on his neck,
he was a drudge for life. One family had put a
yoke upon his class, and for four centuries drove
them like dumb beasts.
When New York was a wilderness, peopled by
bears and wolves, a wool merchant, on a wharf
in Florence, named De Medici, began to attract
notice by the enormous sums which he made and
spent as rapidly. He built magnificent ships,-
gondolas, to float upon the blue Arno,-princely
palaces in which he held a royal state. He built
palaces for the city too, established schools in them
where the sons of the nobles learned philosophy;
furnished great libraries of rare manuscript. The
greatest architects, sculptors, painters, and philoso-
phers of the world worked for this wool-merchant
gladly, he was so generous and friendly a patron.
They gave him the name of the father of his
country, and under his rule Florence became the
most beautiful city in the world. But Cosimo de
Medici was the father only of the rich and_ noble.
The poor he trampled under foot; they were of no
more value to him than the swine in the stalls of
Fiesole.
If we could keep these unfortunate wretches out
of sight, the story of Cosimo, his sons and grand-
sons, would be splendid as a dream of enchant-
ment. They wakened all Italy to new, wonderful
industries. The great magicians in art, science,
and song worked at their bidding. Gardens,
churches, marvelous work in gold and silver, more
marvelous pictures sprang into being; great poems
were written, scholars from all countries thronged
to Florence, and in the shadows of vast palaces
were given place to pursue their studies in peace;
the whole known world, in a word, flushed into a
glory of beauty and grace under the rule of the
Medici, as a tropical forest into flower beneath the
summer sun. But the poor, remember, shared the
fate of the creeping things in the forest. The only
men who took any account of them were a few
good, common-sensed Christians, headed by a
monk named Savonarola, who went about with
such gloomy foreboding faces in this sunshiny,
beautiful city, that they were called weepers."
Lorenzo, the grandson of Cosimo, was known as
the Magnificent; the poor were almost willing to
be crushed to death by 'such a genial, superb
master. There was a little boy of eight, employed
as a page in the palace, of noble blood we may be
sure, or the great Lorenzo would not have noticed,
as he did, his fancy for molding figures in clay.
Walking, one day in the garden, the prince found
the little fellow copying the figure of an old faun.


He had altered the mouth to make it laugh.
SWell done, Michelangelo," he said; but old
men do not have such teeth as thou hast given thy
faun. Close his mouth."
The boy bowed, but said nothing. The next
day, Lorenzo, passing that way, found the faun
still laughing, but with his teeth broken and de-
cayed with age. The prince placed the boy at
once in a gallery of sculpture, and employed the
first masters of the age to teach him. Now Lorenzo
is chiefly known in history as the patron of Michael
Angelo. Lorenzo's son, who was made Cardinal at
thirteen, and Pope at thirty-seven, was of the same
age as the young sculptor, and had known him as
a boy; he was so anxious that he should finish the
Church of St. Peter's at Rome, that he raised the
money necessary by means which Luther protested
against as unlawful, and out of this small dissension
began and widened the great breach of the Refor-
mation.
Another of this family was the Catharine of
France who laughed and joked while seventy
thousand of her subjects were slaughtered in one
night.
You must not think that the Florentines sub-
mitted tamely to the iron rule of the Medici. The
common people took courage, from time to time,
fought and were always beaten, only to rise again.
The great war of the Guelphs and Ghibellines had
been going on for four hundred years; the Guelphs
usually meaning those who fought for the cause of
the down-trodden people, and the Ghibellines for
the imperial power. The long fight came to an end
in the siege of Florence, in August, 1530, when the
treacherous Giulio de Medici, then Pope Clement,
with the help of Charles V., invested his native city,
determined to destroy or conquer it, to give it over
to the rule of his villainous son, Alessandro. For
a year, the people within suffered terrible straits of
disease, want, and at last starvation. Our brave
soldier, Ferrucci, was within, commanding part of
the Florentine forces. He led a forlorn hope out of
the city through the lines of the enemy, and was
returning with a transport of provisions to his starv-
ing people, when the imperialist army attacked
him. The account of the battle has almost faded
from the ancient, yellow pages of Guicciardini,
where we read it. But we find that Francesco "was
born of the common people, and discovered a
mighty bravery of heart and military skill." He
was taken prisoner and put to death in this battle,
and the beautiful city struggling to be free, finding
that he was dead, surrendered herself up to her
tyrants. She was given over to plunder, and for
two centuries after, to the rule of the Medici. When
the young readers of ST. NICHOLAS have grown old
enough to turn from it willingly to great books of


682


[SEPTEMBER,







MY RICHES.


history, they will find no story in them stranger
than that of this mighty family, who wore their
royalty so graciously; who were keen lovers of all
art, learning, and progress; who were generous as
children to their few friends, but studied murder
as a science for the annihilation of their enemies.
The sword and guillotine served them when thou-
sands were to perish; but all subtle poisons were


at their command-they gave death with a smile in
a flower, or sent it with loving words in a letter.
There is not one of the name alive, fortunately for
the world.
But the honest, grim face of Francesco Ferrucci
tells us a story of bravery and freedom, better worth
the reading of little children than the story of
the Medici.


MY RICHES.

BY E. G. TAYLOR.

SOLKS are complaining now, I hear, about their poverty,-
Of money scarce, and times as hard as times, perhaps, can be;
But I am very rich, for I have raiment, food and health,
And multitudes of treasures-yes, I'm rolling in my wealth.

I have two eyes to see with-they are worth ten thousand pound;
A pair of ears to hear with, and feet for walking round;
No one could purchase these from me for twenty thousand more;
My hands, so useful, raise the sum of thousands to three score.

My tongue, though oft unruly, yet to me is such a prize,
I would not sell it cheaper than I would my precious eyes;
.' My head, though somewhat empty, fits upon my neck so well,
I would not part with it though you the price to millions swell.

S I own a life-long interest in that huge world, the sun;
The moon is partly mine also; my list is but begun,
For I have stock in all the stars that seem to crowd the sky;
They shine their dividends on me, although they are so high.

/., The clouds that gather in the sky, and shed on me their rain,
"And winds that bring them hither, are my servants, it is plain;
I plant no fields, and yet I garner harvests full and grand,
In eye-crops, rich and beautiful, o'er all our fruitful land.

I hold no houses in my name,-that is, they're not called mine,-
S For to the cares of property I never did incline;
But if I held by legal claim all dwellings neathh the sun,
I'd do as now-let others have them all, excepting one.

I've had great artists painting for me very many years,
For centuries before my name among Earth's sons appears;
The masters, old and new, for my delight have done their part;
I go to see my galleries, rejoicing in their art.


683






684 LITTLE JOHNNY AND THE MOSQUITO. [SEPTEMBER,


Romancers, poets, essayists, historians, all have vied
With one another zealously, their skill and genius tried,
To offer me a literature; and let their very selves,
From divers climes and ages, speak from the book-case shelves.

Astronomers are on the watch, like sentinels, to see
The movements of the heavenly host, and they report to me
The latest news received from constellation or from star,
Or of the frisky comets plunging into space so far.

Inventors tax their brains for me,-sharp-witted men and keen,-
To put in my possession some new wonderful machine,
By which my toil is easy made, and I subdue, as king,
The stubborn earth, and make it all to me its tribute bring.

The railways spanning our broad land, and managed with such skill,
Are mine, to all intents at least; they take me where I will.
My telegraph thrills through the world, down underneath the sea,
And brings each distant country a near neighbor unto me.

And thus from ev'ry quarter, whether sea or earth or sky,
My riches are enormous; and I cannot, if I try,
Join in the murmurs: of my friends, pretending I am poor.
All things are mine-God says it, and His word is ever sure.







LITTLE JOHNNY AND THE MOSQUITO.


SCENE I.


SCENE III.


SCENE II.






HOW THE CHILDREN CRUISED.


HOW THE CHILDREN CRUISED IN THE WATER-WITCH.

BY E. W. OLNEY.


ONCE upon a time, during a heavy gale in
December, a pleasure-boat was driven in from sea
and stranded far above high-water mark on old
Rye Beach. Her name was the Water-witch.


her in the hammock and let her sail with them
to the
"Summer isles of Eden, lying in dark purple spheres of sea."


She never again rode over the crested waves, yet When she did not share their voyage, and they
when winter storms raged loudly, cold hissing waved their hands to her and threw her kisses in
surges struck her side once .more, great blocks of fond adieux, she would cry a little at the parting
ice piled up around her, icicles hung from her boom and desolately feel as if their sail was really set to
and froze on to her deck below. When the days waft the Water-witch across the seas; but presently,
of darkness and tempest were passed and the light- when she still heard their voices as they rushed
house keeper's children came out to look for drift- about their little ship, cutting cables and drawing
wood in the early spring, there she lay against the up their anchors, she would smile again and busy
rocks high out of water, her tattered sail still set, herself gathering sea-weeds, of which she made
her rudder hard down to starboard, and her keel wreaths fantastically to crown her sunny hair, or
deeply imbedded in the sand. gathered shells and strung them into girdles and
And there she staid all summer, her canvas necklaces, or held a great conch to her ear and
rotting and her seams yawning, while the children listened'with thoughtful eyes, and lips apart, to the
took possession and played at voyages. Many a story it was forever telling.
cruise up and down, far and wide over the world The little sister shall go with us to-morrow,"
they took, many a fair island they discovered in Malcolm would often say when tea-time came, and
fancy, while they sat in the boat bedded in rocks he and Frank had cast their anchors and were at
and sea-weed, and told over and over again all the home again; and in the morning he would take
sea-tales their father had ever related to them. the little girl's hand and ask:
The light-house keeper's children's names were "Where does Nanny want to sail to-day?"
Malcolm, Frank and Nanny. Malcolm was a tall "Where the oranges grow," the little sister
boy of thirteen, with a pale determined face, and answered, with such a queer little lisp, and such a
large gray eyes that seemed always looking in dear, eager little face, that both Malcolm and Frank
dream-land." He was full of fancies. Sometimes he kissed her at once.
was silent, and seemed so busy listening to some "Now we are on shipboard," said Malcolm, after
voice beyond the hearing of other mortal ears, that they had climbed into the boat. It was very pleas-
he never once heard the voices of the other children ant thus to be on shipboard. The sail flapped in
who talked from morning until night. Then, by the wind and the sun shone warmly, and down
and by, he would wake up and tell Frank and beyond the wet beach the sea rippled and glittered,
Nanny such wonderful tales as made their hearts and the birds shrieked and dipped as they flew after
beat. Frank was nine years old, with big brown the fish, leaping out of water in their play. It was
eyes, rosy cheeks and curly hair. He thought his almost better than being really on shipboard on
tall brother was the cleverest and dearest fellow in the ocean, for here no one could be seasick; yet
the world, and only-wanted to do his will without a if they looked off on the one hand, they could see
wish of his own. Nanny was a little maid of five. nothing but the blue sea line, dotted with the white
Her eyes were blue as the skies, and her hair had sails of ships and the smoke-stacks of the steamers
surely learned its trick of golden color from the crossing and recrossing each other in the offing,
sunbeams. She loved everybody in the world, was while at the same time, in the other distance, was
happy anywhere, whether playingwith her brothers the familiar rocky beach where the children had
or wandering alone along the beach searching for played all their lives, with the high light-house on
the little pools of water left by the receding tides, the point beyond and the little stone cottage nest-
and singing little songs to her own sweet image ling beside it, where their mother was sitting sewing
mirrored in the tiny lakes, believing the reflection in the door-way, with her loving face turned toward
to be a little sweet maiden smiling up at her. them. Now when you in sober earnest start-on a
Sometimes her brothers went on stern warlike voyage and go to sea, there is nothing but water,
cruises after pirates and buccaneers, and left her water everywhere about you, and your heart will
safe behind them. Then again, they would put ache with longing many and many a time before


1876.1


685






HOW THE. CHILDREN CRUISED.


you can see the dear home faces turned toward
you with a smile.
This is a calm voyage," said Malcolm, who was
at the helm. "We are in the Tropics now. This
is the sun that burns the people brown, quite
brown, and crisps their hair when it is at its hot-
test."
Where the oranges grow," put in Nanny.
Oh, yes," cried Frank, oranges and figs, and
dates and bananas, and cocoa-nuts and guava-jelly !
They all grow here."
Guava-jelly does not grow," corrected Malcolm
wisely. The guava is a fruit like an apple, and

-- l ---


knees to wait just one day, just twenty-four hours
more, and then he would go back, if no signs of
land appeared. Then, while his heart was turning
faint within him, and while he was almost in de-
spair, the bough of a tree, with fresh green leaves
on it, floated past him. Oh, how he thanked the
good God And soon he heard the voice of sing-
ing-birds, and butterflies appeared dancing hither
and thither, as if to beckon him on to the new
lands. Let us play that we, too, are looking for
beautiful islands, all flowers and fruits, and singing-
birds."
So they chatted to each other about such a


GOING ON BOARD THE WATER-WITCH.


jelly is made from that as mother makes it from
quinces."
"I don't care how it's made," said Frank; "I,
only know it's awfully good with bread and but-
ter."
Malcolm grew silent, and sat with his gaze
steadily fixed upon the sea; his pale face flushed a
little, and his eyes shone.
"When Columbus made his great voyage and
discovered America," said he after a time, "he
sailed on west and west, always without knowing
where he was, to find land at last. He had a great
faith which kept up his patience, but his men grew
angry and mutinous and were eager to turn back.
Columbus could have done nothing if his crew had
risen against him; he begged them almost on his


voyage; and Malcolm, as if in a dream, felt him-
self really to be sailing beneath warm, eternal suns,
with a crystal sea spreading far about him, broken
here and there into shifting rainbow tints, as great
fishes turned on their sides and showed fins of silver
and gold. And the wind that blew softly through
and through the tatters of the old sail made it a
sort of harp, on which it sang wonderful songs,
sweet and restful as a mother's lullaby to her babe.
Nanny too, as she swung in the hammock rocked
by Frank, lay listening to the wind-song and the
distant cries of the sea-gulls. It was, indeed, just
like a fairy-tale, this journey to the Tropics.
Do you not see," said Malcolm, with his eyes
half closed in his dream, do you not see now the
sea-weeds all growing thicker and thicker, and


686


[SEPTEMBER,







HOW THE CHILDREN CRUISED.


how the slow waves upbear a thousand floating
things? There are husks of the cocoa-nut and
branches of the palm. Smell the warm, faint
air "
They seemed indeed to inhale the perfume of
fruits and flowers, and their hearts hailed the
islands, with their lofty mountain-peaks in the dis-
tance, while in the foreground rose now strange
and beautiful trees, unlike any they had ever
seen before. They made believe that they were
really touching these palm-fringed islands, where
tree and flower and vine were tangled together in
a rich growth, fragrant with delicious odors, and
covered with bloom; radiant birds, like flowers
themselves, darted from flower to flower, and par-
rots of gorgeous plumage chattered from the trees,
where monkeys were swinging by their tails and
chattering in return. Dusky natives, their eyes
shining like stars, swam in the transparent waters;
others put off from the shore in canoes, and brought
them juicy fruits with which they freighted their
little ship.
You have got a wonderful cargo," said Frank,
laughing; "who ever saw such a ship-load of
oranges ?"
Have we ?" cried Nanny, waking up suddenly,
to find Frank swinging her hammock, and-holding
a handful of fruit toward her. Her brothers'
voices had lulled her to sleep as they talked of the
transparent waters through which they could look
down, down, and see the coral reefs far below them
like a miniature forest. She had now dreamed,
while she was asleep, of a sunshiny island, with
birds like flowers, and flowers like marvelous birds,
and heavily laden trees holding out their juicy
fruits to her.
Here is an orange for you," said Frank, and
a bunch of raisins, and some Brazil-nuts." And
she woke up quite ready to believe they really had
touched at wonderful islands while she slept, since
here she found such fruits from the Tropics in
her lap.
That was a fine journey, was it not, little
sister ?" asked Malcolm, as by and by their mother
rang the dinner-bell on the cliff, and they all hun-
grily scampered home along the sands. To-
morrow we are going to the cold countries. We
never took you so far as that, Nanny."
"Oh, let me go too," cried the little maid.
Was I not very good to-day, brother? "
You went to sleep," said Malcolm, and lost
a great many beautiful sights. Girls were never
made for travelers, I expect; yet you shall go to-
morrow, if you will."

Now this is different," said Malcolm next day,
as they all sat in the boat again. We will wrap


ourselves up in cloaks, for we are no longer in the
Tropics."
They were setting out for the North Pole, you
know, and, as if the sun and wind were in the joke
of it, they had withdrawn all their warmth and the
day was cold, and the east gale blew hard and
made one shiver as if it came off an iceberg.
I expect we shall see icebergs to-day," said
Malcolm. Far out at sea, you suddenly catch a
glimpse of something shining in the horizon.
Then it begins to appear like a white cloud, and
after awhile, you see what it really is that floats
down slowly but with wonderful force against tide
and current across your path. The sun shines into
it until it gleams like a million broken rainbows;
and it is shaped in all sorts of beautiful forms, like
steeples and towers and domes; and all its cold
white height is reflected far, far down into the
water with a sort of strange, ghostly light that
makes you shiver."
Who told you about it, Mal? asked Frank.
Father. Father has often seen them at sea.
Once he saw one so large it looked like a great
cathedral; like the cathedrals on earth, yet more
glorified-like the cathedrals they have in heaven,
I suppose."
So Malcolm talked as they sat in the boat, and
dreamed they were sailing due north to look for a
North-west Passage. He told them of those frozen
seas where
"The ice was here,
The ice was there,
The ice was all around;
It crashed and growled,
And roared and howled
Like voices in a swound,"-

and all the terrible tales he had ever read of the
fate of explorers among those floating fleets of
icebergs. But little Nanny cried to hear about such
brave men as had perished there by lingering and
painful deaths; so Malcolm endeavored to make
her forget her grief by stories of the queer animals
that show themselves in sunny weather, disporting
on the ice and in the water-the polar bears, and
the human-faced walruses and seals. He imitated
the playful roar of the walrus and the husky bark
of the seal, until the little sister was merry again.
She heard about the reindeer too, and the eider-
ducks, covered with their wonderful down, and the
funny-faced, large-mouthed, small-eyed Esquimaux,
as they traveled on sledges or paddled about in
their little canoes.
Nor did Malcolm fail to tell about the summer
sun which set away in the north at midnight, dip-
ping low into the sea only to rise again without any
interval of night, and begin a new day. There
was no bed-time' there for little people, no proverbs


687


i876.1






HOW THE CHILDREN CRUISED.


either about rising with the sun. But in winter it
was all bed-time; the gloom and darkness were
almost unbroken by any dawn, yet the aurora-
borealis would flash down its fires of red and gold,
lighting up this strange, ghostly, frozen world
with its flames that moved to and fro from hori-
zon to zenith, like the slow waving of gorgeous
banners.
Yet, notwithstanding all these wonderful tales,
neither Nanny nor Frank loved to be in the frozen
seas, and were glad when Malcolm said they would
sail for brighter lands. So, ;-: i uh.., :tn for the
explorers to discover the North-west Passage for
them, they sailed across the open Polar ocean and
emerged pleasantly into the sea of Kamschatka,
through Behring Straits, and steered straight for
Japan. These were queer countries which the
children heard of then, as Malcolm told them won-
derful tales of the far distant lands of China and
Japan, filled with a swarming population, gro-
tesque to foreign eyes, yet highly civilized and
excelling in arts.
Surely their little boat must have entered that
wide, land-locked harbor, filled with ships of war,
trading junks and merchant craft from every coun-
try; for the world's trade finds in Hong Kong its
connecting link, and brings its merchandise and
gold to exchange for the fragrant tea, the creamy
silks, the wonderful porcelains, carved ivories, and
rare lacquered work, which they find ready for
them there.
You cannot guess at these wonderful stories that
Malcolm told about these far-away peoples, nor
how wide open little Nanny's blue eyes grew with
an ever fresh surprise.
And it was in this way that the children cruised
in the Water-witch in the silence and solitude of
the old Rye Beach, with the cool sea-winds blowing
about their hair, and the sound of the Atlantic
waves in their ears. So the summer passed while
they played in the old boat, and rattled its chains,
and cast their anchors, or pulled at the creaking


ropes, shouting the quaint song they had heard
from the 'long-shore men:
Heave away, my bully boys,
Heave away, my Johnnies;
Heave up the anchor, boys,
Brace round the main yard,
Haul taut your port bow-line,
And let the good ship fly."

But alas, one night in September, a great gale
came up at sunset, and blew hard from the south-
east until dawn, and the light-house keeper's chil-
dren, as they lay in their beds in the little stone
cottage, dreamed they were far out at sea, storm-
tossed and rocked by tempest. It was a fair, still
morning when they awoke, and they ate their
breakfast hurriedly and ran out on the beach to
discover what the storm had brought them this
time; what strange, beautiful gift had been borne
up to them from the mystic ocean-world.
But the gale had offered them no treasure save
spoils of sea-weed, shells, and dead star-fish, yet
had carried away what they loved best. For when
they looked for the familiar mast, prow and keel
of the Water-witch, lo! they had vanished. The
wind and rain had battered her to pieces; the high,
equinoctial tide had floated away her planks, and
only here and there a tattered fragment of dis-
colored sail, a shrunken timber, or planks strewn
over the rocks, remained to tell the sad story.
The children set up a great cry of sorrow for
their lost ship. Never again, though they might
cruise from Pole to Equator, could they find such
wonderful lands as those to which the Water-witch
had borne them while she lay stranded above high-
water mark; search as they might the wide earth
over, no treasures could they gather half so fair as
those they had dreamed of.
The timbers floated in again by the next tide,
and the children gathered them for the drift-wood
fires around which they all sat telling stories during
the long winter evenings that followed their short
summer of delight.


688


[SEPTEMBER,





WINDSOR CASTLE.


"SOMEBODY STOP HIM! HE'S RUNNING AWAY '


WINDSOR CASTLE.

BY MRS. OLIPHANT.


CHAPTER V.
THE STARTS.
AGAIN a change of dynasty. The brilliant,
bloody, terrible and momentous reign of the Tudors
lasted from the accession of Henry VII. in 1485, to
the death of Elizabeth in 1603. Elizabeth, you
know, would never marry; and indeed, considering
how much she must have been disgusted by her
father's feats in that way, and by the-unpleasant
marriage of her sister, I do not wonder that she
should have set her mind against it. And the
nearest heir Elizabeth had was the son of her cousin,
Mary Stuart of Scotland, whom she beheaded, you
remember, and who was her rival and opponent in
everything as long as she lived, as she still is in
history. Mary was beautiful and fascinating and
unfortunate; and because of this, a great many
people have always been very ready to forget that
she was as willful, hot-headed, cruel and wicked in


some portions of her career as the worst of the
Tudors. Her son James, however, was neither
beautiful nor fascinating. He was an awkward,
ungainly, learned person; and public opinion has.
perhaps done him almost as much injury on account
of his want of personal advantages as it has given
undue favor to his mother on account of her beauty.
I told you before about the early Stuarts in Scot-
land, what a gallant unfortunate family they were,
always in trouble, and often wrong, but, on the
whole, lovable and honest, and doing their best for
their country. That Tudor blood which the Lady
Margaret, Henry VIII.'s sister, brought them, did
not do the race any good; neither did the hot French
blood of the Guises, bne of whom was Queen Mary's
mother. And the whole existence of these unfor-
tunate people in England was disastrous-bad for
themselves and bad for the country. I have very
little to tell about James I. of England and VI. of
Scotland, except that the Windsor account-books


689


'* '. i
a: 1 '
*, w .

* i






WINDSOR CASTLE.


are full of sums paid for ringing the bells when the
King came to the Castle; and there is one thing he
did when he held his first chapter of the Garter,
which will give you a little idea of the extravagance
and costliness of the time. He made a rule that
no knight should have more than fifty attendants.
This the English historians said was because the
Scots lords, upon whom the King conferred the or-
der, were not so rich as the English. "Whatsoever
they might do in their own country, I know not, but
here they have not such numbers of tenants and
attendants as might any way equal the number of
the English." "Every one had a multitude of ser-
vants and all of them-in their chains of gold." You
may imagine how the followers of these wealthy
English lords would swagger about in their gold
chains through the narrow Windsor streets, and
how they would jibe at the proud, poor Scots with
their smaller following. Englishmen, we fear, have
always had a little inclination to pique themselves
on their wealth. But you might see a great many
Knights of the Garter nowadays, assembled at
Windsor for a chapter of the order, without seeing
any trace of the fifty servants in golden chains, to
which King James limited his nobles. But the
town was a great deal gayer, as you may well sup-
pose, when all these gorgeous knights in their fine
dresses, each with fifty men after him, embroidered
and plumed and gilded like himself, came riding
one after another over the bridge and up the steep
causeway that sweeps round the base of the Curfew
Tower, with the bells ringing and all the good people
gazing. When they come now, they come by the
railway in ordinary morning dress, with one smooth
valet perhaps in charge of my lord's luggage.
What a difference! On the whole, in some things
there must have been more variety and amusement
in Windsor in the old days.
And there was variety enough later, when King
Charles I. succeeded King James, and when the
troubles began between the King and the Parlia-
ment, of which you have read in your histories.
You ought to know about these troubles very well
indeed, for, but for them, America perhaps might
never have been the country it is, and you might
have been born (as many of you as we had room
for) in the old villages and old towns of England,
instead of beginning your lives all the way over that
great salt ocean, without any love for- England in
your young transatlantic bosoms; though it cost
your great-grandfathers and mothers many a pang
and many a tear ere they could wrench themselves
from their English home. I do not suppose that
there can be many Americans who believe in that un-
happy King Charles, as some old-fashioned people
in England still do-as a saint and martyr. But he
was one of the most remarkable of that curious and


generally unfortunate class who do wrong, intensely
believing it to be right. I cannot tell how it is that
this sort of people (virtuous criminals we may call
them) should suffer more for their wrong-doing than
the people who do wrong out of sheer wickedness,
and who are far more wicked than they; and I do
not suppose that you are able to discuss such a
strange question. King Charles was not a bad
man; he lied and broke faith not because he liked
it, but because he thought he was so right, and his
adversaries so wrong, that it did not matter what
he said to them, nor what he did to establish his
grand object. There are several pictures of him in
Windsor, with that strange narrow, obstinate, melan-
choly face which makes some foolish folks forget
his great sins against his country. Such a man as
this, determined in his own way and beyond the
reach of reason, is one of the most dangerous and
terrible creatures in the world. The Tudors, too,
were determined to have their own way, but simply
because it was their own way and pleased them;
but Charles thought his way the most right way,
the only right way, and this made him fatal. If he
had succeeded, there is no telling what might have
become of us all; but even in not succeeding he
managed to do a great deal of harm. He put the
big Atlantic between us and you, and he made
England red with blood and war and murder, and
he lost his own head-unhappy king-in the end,
for which a great many excellent people forgive
him everything that went before.
But there was little thought of all this when the
bells rang for the young prince, the heir of the
kingdom, who was more loved than his father as
being more English, every time he came into
Windsor. The Court were always coming and
going, making "progresses" from London, some-
times by land, sometimes by water, hunting in the
Forest and holding all kinds of stately revels, though
the King was often as much in want of money as
many of us are. There are hunting of stags in
Berkshire still, when a poor innocent, half-tamed
deer from the Forest is carried to a considerable
distance, and then let loose to find its way back to
cover if it can, with men and dogs in full cry after
it; but in earlier days the stag-hunt was more
natural, and the woods and forest paths rang with
hunting-horns. Then Prince Charles and his
favorite, Buckingham, would go to the river in the
summer evenings, "'into the Thames near Eton,
where the best swimming is; but," says the worthy
old chronicler, lest we should be alarmed for our
Prince, so attended with choice company and a
boat or two, that there could be no danger." All
the evil was brewing, but no one knew how bad it
was to be in those tranquil days; and if the strong
Thames, rushing then as it rushes now with a great


690


SEPTEMBER,








1876.] WINDSOR CASTLE. 691


CHARLES I. (FROM A PICTURE IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM.)
swirl and foaming current under the elm-trees and said, as they say of his elder brother Henry, who
drooping willows, had carried away Prince Charles died young, that if this gracious Prince had been
one of those evenings when the sun was setting, and spared he would have made one of England's
drowned him safe down the stream among the noblest kings.
water-lilies, no doubt all the histories would have But what a change it made in Windsor when


1876.]


69I


WINDSOR CASTLE.






WINDSOR CASTLE.


King Charles's power fell, and the Roundheads, as
they were called, took possession of the Castle. It
is never pleasant to hear, even when a great and
rich person may not happen to be good, of his
poorer neighbors becoming unkind to him in his
downfall; and this, I fear, is what the people
of Windsor were when Charles began to sit un-
safely on his throne. His neighbors in the little
town, instead of being sorry for him, broke down
the park palings, and began to hunt the deer
and spoil the beautiful park; and they took down
the King's arms from the church; and they rang
the bells when the dark, serious Parliamentary
soldiers, with their hair cut short and no long love-
locks falling on their shoulders (which is what is
meant by the name Roundhead) came in and
took possession of the Castle. It did not much
matter to the Mayor and the Corporation for whom
they rang their bells. And this is not a pleasant
thing to know. But it is astonishing how quietly
people take great public events. I have a curious
old MS. book, the diary of a clergyman at that
time, written in the most beautiful old-fashioned
handwriting,. which you would almost want a micro-
scope to see; and do you know, he seems to have
been much more excited by the wind that blew down
one of his apple-trees than by the execution of
King Charles! The apple-tree has a much longer
sentence than the king. Is not this strange? But
instead of Triumphs and Tournaments and royal
Progresses and glorious Knights of the Garter with
fifty gentlemen in gold chains behind each of them,
there was nothing but simple dresses and simple
living and long preachings in the Castle when the
army of the Parliament was there. One fast-day
we are told of, was kept from nine in the morning
till seven at night. Now there was very. great
occasion for prayer and serious thinking at such a
time of national trouble; but ten hours, I am afraid,
was longer than any one could fix their thoughts
upon such solemn subjects. Oliver Cromwell was
at Windsor that day. He was not like any of the
splendid kings of whom I have told you, but he too
was a great ruler and prince among men, doing a
very hard and terrible work in the world, with mis-
takes like other people, but yet better than any
other man of his time could have done it. He and
some of his officers "prayed very fervently and
pathetically" on that long fast-day; and if you can
fancy this great man, a new world in his own
person, moving about through the Castle, which
was the very embodiment of the old world, and
thinking sadly perhaps, as he looked across the sun-
shiny country, of all the miseries of that battle
between the old and the new, which he had to lead
and carry through, you will find him as interest-
ing in his sad-colored suit, a plain Englishman,


as any of the gay princes that ever swaggered
there. But you will understand this better when
you grow older, and can enter into all the great
changes that were involved, and learn how the
salvation of a country is seldom managed easily
without pain or bloodshed. It would be too.
serious and too long a story if I were to tell you
about Cromwell; so instead I will tell how sad
was the ending of King Charles. Had Charles I.
got his way he would have ruined England as.
his sons afterward tried hard to do; but that is not
to prevent us, when he failed and paid for all his.
falsehoods and his sins and mistakes with his life,
from being sorry for him. For in himself he was.
not a bad man; but only the terrible misfortune
had happened to him that he mistook wrong for
right. There is no memory belonging to Windsor,
and no scene in all its history so melancholy and.
tragical as that of his burial, which took place in
the dark time of the year,-the dead of winter,"'
as we call it in Scotland,-in gloom and silence, as.
you shall hear.
Charles was brought to Windsor before his trial
for a few melancholy days. There had been a plan
made for his rescue on the way, but that failed like.
so many other of his enterprises. He reached the.
Castle where he had spent so much of his youth,
and which he had entered so often in royal prog-
resses, everything gay and bright around him,
"placed in the middle of a hundred horse, every
soldier having a pistol in one hand." The *towns-
people, though they were not partisans of the
King, had their hearts touched by this melancholy
sight. They went out upon the road to meet
the gloomy procession. "A great influence of
people resorted to the town's end, and upon his.
Majesty's passing by, a great echo arose from
the voice of the people crying, 'God bless your
Majesty, and grant you long to reign!'" Un-
happy Charles! His face, which had been sad in
its best days,- had no doubt a tragical dignity in it
now as he came out of the wintry park in that
gray December afternoon, and heard the people-
shouting. His reign had been over for some-
time, though he was still the King's majesty, and
some five weeks or so was all the time he had to-
live; but perhaps a little hope awoke in his forlorn
bosom when he heard those shouts which meant so-
little. As soon as he had entered the gates, the
Royalists in Windsor went off to drink his health
at the public-houses; that was a great deal easier
than standing up against those stern, strong Round-
head soldiers and setting the King free. As for
Charles, he was the kind of man who shows best in
trouble. The disposition which made him seem,
morose in his better days became him now. "Since
the King came to Windsor he shows little altera-


692


[SEPTEMBER,






WINDSOR CASTLE.


tion of courage or gesture," says one of the people
who were watching him, ." and as he was formerly
seldom seen to be very merry or much transported
with any news, either with joy or sorrow, so now,
although he expects a severe change and tryal, yet
doth he not show any great discontent." But he did
remark the difference of the behavior of those about
him from what he had been used to. No one now
served the fallen monarch with the devout respect
of former times, or knelt to him as of old. He asked
about this, we are told, but hearing that it was by
order of the Parliament, said with natural dignity
that he had never looked upon these as more than
things ceremonious which were at the election of
any whether they would use them or not." He had
" three new suits supplied to him, poor king, after
all his wanderings and fighting, "two of them
cloth, with rich gold and silver lace, the other of
black satin, the cloak lined with plushe," and put
on one of them on the first Sunday in the year;
and there he lived sorrowful in his old rooms all
despoiled and bare, refusing to keep the Puritan
fast-days, but" usinghis own private devotions when
he pleaseth," and keeping a cheerful aspect, as
cheerful as it was in his nature to look,-sometimes
saying that he hoped in six months to see peace in
England, sometimes that help from without would
set him on his throne,-brave in his narrow, tena-
cious way, showing no signs of trouble. He hears
of the preparations to bring him to tryall and seems
to be well satisfied for what follows; but is very
reserved in his discourse thereupon, having not
fully delivered his mind whether he intends to
plead or not." Thus he lived for some three weeks
through the dark short winter days, and those long
tedious nights which hang so heavily over the unfor-
tunate. Christmas-time! Whatfeastings therehad
been in Windsor What heavenly singing in the
great chapel! What solemn services and joyful
meetings But all was silent now. No butterfly
courtiers to make the old town look gay; no merry
good wishes; no music in St. George's, which was
all stripped and bare, the knights' stalls and ban-
ners, and the altar with its plate and candlesticks,
all taken away, and nothing but a blank, silent,
shivering space under the glorious roof. And
rough soldiers snatching their hasty meals in the
banqueting-hall, instead of all the fine company
that used to assemble there; and in the royal
rooms King Charles alone, only a sad friend or two
with him, the people admitted to stare at him by
times, and nothing before him but humiliation and
downfall. But Vandyke's portrait of him on the
walls was not more rigid, less unbending, than he.
In the middle of January he was taken to Lon-
don, and there was tried and beheaded, as you
know. You and I have not the time to inquire


(and perhaps, between ourselves, are not clever
enough to decide) how far this could have been
helped, or what excuse they had who did it. The
only thing we can be sure of was, that Charles was
not a bad man, nor Cromwell an ambitious hypo-
crite, though I do not think the one was a martyr,
nor the other a spotless hero. It was on the 3oth
of January, 1649, that this terrible event took place,
and, after that, occurred the saddest scene that old
Windsor ever saw. Four of the King's faithful ser-
vants (and he had faithful servants all through his
career), the "Duke of Richmond, the Marquis of
Hertford, and the Earls of Southampton and Lind-
say," requested leave to bury him, and carried the
body back to the Castle. They took with them that
Bishop Juxon who attended the King on the scaf-
fold, to read the service over him now. But the
Governor of the Castle, who was a certain Colonel
Whitchcott, would not allow the Burial Service.
He told them that "the Common Prayer-book had
been put down, and he would not suffer it to be
used in that garrison when he commanded." You
will see from this that persecution was not all on
one side, but that whoever was uppermost in these
violent times did his best to crush his neighbor.
You could not fancy anything more heartless than
the Puritan's refusal to allow these heart-broken
men to say holy prayers over their king's and their
friend's grave-except, indeed, the refusal of that
same king to let these Puritans live along with
him in the native England which had room for
them all. When the faithful lords found it impos-
sible to change this decision, they went sadly to
St. George's to find a place to lay him, but found
the chapel so bare, so naked, so altered that it was
only with hard ado that they found a vault in the
middle of what had once been the choir, where
they could lay the King. Here they found a little
space for King Charles, close by the great leaden
coffin where Henry VIII. lay peacefully, unwit-
ting who was coming. The Duke of Richmond
marked out roughly upon "a scarfe of lead" the
letters of his name and the date. Then, all in
silence, at three o'clock in the January afternoon,
when it was no more than twilight in the cold and
naked chapel, they carried the coffin, then covered
with a black pall, of which the four lords" car-
ried the corners, with a forlorn attempt at state.
As they came down the Castle hill toward the
chapel with their burden, it began suddenly to
snow, and the snow fell so thickly and fast that
soon "the black pall was all white." Was there
ever a more mournful sight? In the dim chapel
that snow-covered coffin would be the one spot of
wintry lightness. "The Bishop of London stood
weeping by to tender that his service, which might
not be accepted." Thus they laid him in the dark


1876.]


693






WINDSOR CASTLE.


vault to molder with the other royal bones, drop-
ping the whiteness of the snow-covered pall (an
emblem, they said, of his innocence) into the black
gulf with him-not a word said, not a prayer except
in their hearts, the Puritan governor of the Castle
standing by to see his orders executed. When all
was over, he locked up the empty echoing chapel
and took the keys away. Windsor has seen weep-
ing and sorrow like every other old house where
men for generations have lived and died, and more
than most, for in the old days suffering and sorrow
were apt to follow in the paths of kings ; but never
has our venerable Castle seen so melancholy a
sight.
If the story of the Stuarts had been a drama, a
great tragedy such as Shakspeare could have made,
no doubt it would have ended here; but human
creatures are dreadfully careless of dramatic com-
pleteness, and never know when to stop. If Napo-
leon, now, had been killed at Waterloo, what a
much finer finish that would have made to. his life
than the miserable exile at St. Helena! But he
was not killed, and the Stuarts did not come to an
end. After a time, as you know, they were re-
stored, and King Charles II. reigned in his father's
stead; but he was not at all like his father. Charles
I. was a good, perverse soul in his way, with a
purpose for which he thought he was justified in
lying as well as in dying-yet, if he did the one he
could do the other also; but Charles II. was a man
without any purpose at all except his own misera-
ble pleasure, and his life was a thing too base, too
unclean, too selfish to be worth talking about.
When the great Italian poet, Dante (of whom, I
have no doubt, you have heard), wrote his wonder-
ful poem about heaven and hell, he described a
place where there was a crowd of wretched spirits
_;.i:.. rir, in an unintelligible language. When he
asked who they were, his guide, who was leading
him through that world of spirits, answered him:
"Let us not talk of them-nan ragionam di lor;
look at them and pass by." These were the men
who lived only for themselves. And Charles II. was
one of these-he is not worth the trouble of il-in. -
you about. The country voted him 7o,ooo0 to
build a tomb for his father; but he never did it,
and, it is even said, never tried to find out the
place where the snow-covered pall was thrown
down. But he kept the money all the same- How-
ever, he filled old Windsor once more with gayety
and brightness, and lodged his wicked favorites in
the gray towers, and made the walls ring with riot.
And, if the truth must be told, the people, who
were tired of fast-days and preachings, and of the
severity of their Puritan rulers who would have
liked to make them good by force, were glad of a
little dancing and singing again, and forgave the


second Charles his wickedness on account of the
brighter colors, and gayer customs, and careless
ways which he brought into fashion. And he built
a little and decorated a great deal. "Then was
now the terrace brought almost round the old Cas-
tle; the grass made clean, even, and curiously
.turfed; the avenues to the new park and other
walks planted with elms and limes, and a pretty
canal and receptacle for fowl." And inside there
were also great decorations; and if you ever come
to Windsor, you will be obliged to crane your neck
to look up at the roofs which Verrio painted, and
where you will see fat goddesses swimmiing about
among red and blue clouds, not much worth the
trouble of looking at; but they were thought very
fine in King Charles's time. But the Castle, no
doubt, wanted a great deal of cleaning, for I must


.----__----_

NORTH FRONT OF WINDSOR CASTLE-PARTIALLY BUILT BY
CHARLES II.


tell you one thing about those Puritans who were,
as I have just said, so severe. When the King was
killed and the royal family banished, they took in
a great many poor people into the big Castle, and
gave lodging there to the houseless. They might
have done worse, don't you think? and this shows

you that what they did was not done for their own
advantage. The poor folk were all bundled out at
the Restoration when the Stuarts came back, and
I have no doubt there was a great deal of cleaning
wanted. But I do not think it is one of the worst
associations of our Castle that in that time of misery
it opened its old towers and chambers to the deso-
late.
Charles II. was neither a good man nor a good
king; but he was popular, and had those gracious
manners which are of so much importance to a
prince. But his brother, James II., who succeeded
him, was not popular; and when he declared him-
self a Roman Catholic, which was the most honest


694


[SEPTEMBER,






WINDSOR CASTLE.


thing he did, and showed an inclination to carry
out his father's tyrannical intentions, the country
made short work with him, and sent him away,
putting his daughter Mary and her husband, Wil-
liam of Orange, in his place. Indeed the bringing
back of the Stuarts was evidently a mistake alto-
gether. They had not learned anything by their
misfortunes, and the country had learned that it
could get on very well without them. There is
not very much to say about this King James at
Windsor.
There was one strange custom, however, of which
I must tell you, though it did'not belong exclu-
sively to his reign. It would appear that a great
many people suffered from scrofula in those days,
and at certain fixed times all those who were ill of
this complaint came to be "touched" by the King,
which was-supposed to be a certain cure. This
strange superstition procured the name of "the
king's evil" for one of the most penetrating and
miserable of diseases. More than fifty people, ac-
cording to the record, came to Windsor from Eton
alone to be 'f touched for the evil" in one year. It
was a strange prerogative, was it not, to give to a
king ?
James's daughter, Mary, accepted his throne in
his life-time, while he went sadly to France to live
the rest of his life and die in exile. But it was not
she who reigned, but her husband, William of
Orange, a powerful prince, though he was not a
pleasant one.
And after them came Queen Anne, in whose
days there was such a great revival both of let-
ters and arms, and prosperity for the nation, that,
though she did not count for very much in it, her
time was like an echo of Queen Elizabeth's, and
her name is associated as Elizabeth's was, with suc-
cess and splendor of every kind. I told you of a
little octagon room opening out of Queen Eliza-
beth's gallery, where this other royal lady was
taking tea when she got the news of the battle
of Blenheim. In a big hall close by there hangs
a little flag worked with the French fleur-de-lis,
which the Duke of Marlborough still presents
every year, as a kind of quit-rent, the tenure by
which he holds his splendid house of Blenheim,
near Oxford, which the country gave him. Oppo-
site to this flag is another little tri-colored flag, also
renewed every year, which is the Duke of Well-
ington's homage for the estate of Strathfieldsaye,
which he got in the same way after the battle of
Waterloo.
It happened to me once to go over the Castle
with a great French lady, when these flags, signs
of victory over her nation, were quite fresh and
bright. You may suppose it would have been very
disagreeable to have explained to such a visitor


what they meant, and perhaps there was a little
satisfaction in the smile with which we English
looked at each other and agreed to say nothing
about them. But there they hang, and there every
year the two dukes send these proud offerings,
signs of the services by which they got their lands,
just as they might have done four or five hundred
years ago. It is a curious little bit of the middle-
ages amid all the less picturesque proceedings of
to-day.
And so the Stuarts ended in Anne as the Tudors
ended in Elizabeth. You may have heard the
romantic stories of the two Pretenders, as they were
called-James II.'s son and grandson, both of
whom tried to recover the throne of which they were
the legitimate heirs in succession. Prince Charles
Edward, whom in Scotland we call Prince Charlie,-
with a lingering fondness, roused all the Highlands
and made a dash at the crown, which for a moment
looked as if it might be successful. But their day
was past, and there was no more hope for this
race. These two unfortunate princes died eating
the bread of strangers-mock kings in melancholy
exile-and the story of this family is written all the
way through in blood and tears. The only com-
fortable, matter-of-fact sovereign among them was
Queen Anne, and she was the most fortunate; yet
she too, poor lady, saw all her children die, and
knew that her successor to the crown would be a
far-off German cousin, whom England accepted
but did not love.
But these changes mattered little to the old Cas-
tle, which saw them come and saw them go, and
gave shelter to all in their turn, inclosing their
splendors and their sorrows impartially within its
gray walls, preserving their names here. and there
in a gallery or a tower, serene and indifferent like
the green earth herself, which takes no notice what
kind of petty creatures we are who walk about her
fields and woods. The kings and the queens pass
on like a long procession, every one leaving some
little trace, no one affecting much the royal old house
which is hospitable to all. Some have built, and
some have mended; some have planted the great
trees and made the soft green glades of the park,
which are so delightful to us now; others have hung
the walls inside with carvings and tapestries, and
thrown up those vaulted roofs, and smoothed those
princely terraces. Queen Victoria goes on doing
now what her predecessors began to do four hun-
dred years ago. Apart altogether from the big
imperial history with all its political changes, you
might write a little peaceful history of all the
English sovereigns without ever stirring out of
Windsor.
And now that they are in their graves,--some
under our feet in St. George's, with the music


695


i876.]






696


A SEPTEMBER EVENING.


[SEPTEMBER,


pealing over them daily, like King Charles in his ever, remembering them and making them remem-
pall of snow; some in Westminster, some in other bered, stronger and richer and more beautiful for
tombs less royal,-their old home stands as fair as each of them, yet surviving all.


A SEPTEMBER EVENING.






1876.1


THE little boy Alien went to the Land of the
Grigs," one rainy night in the month of June. He
says he was wide awake in his bed, and just stepped
out of a window on to a roof, slid down the roof
for a mile, and went through a blazing light-house,
and landed on a rock in a meadow where a great
many voices were singing and croaking and calling
all around him.
Now we know this was all a dream; but he did
go to Grigland, because he can tell you a great
deal about it.
He found himself sitting on a warm stone by the
edge of a pool of black water, little grasses waving
in it, bushes shutting it in from the meadows, large
trees not very far off, and in the sky were violet
and golden clouds as if at sundown, and every-
where were little white violets. Take me,"
whispered one dear little violet, that he could reach
without getting off his stone. Take me, and
you will know what all the voices are saying."
The breath of the violet was so sweet that the little
boy took it into his hand and looked into its fair
face.
Now what would you like to know?" asked a
voice in the black water.
Nothing," answered the little boy.
Then you can come again," said the voice,
and there was a loud splash.
"Why did n't you ask him something?" said
the violet.
"Because I know things," said the boy.
Then tell me what that small boat is in the
water that comes later every night ?"
The moon, of course," said the boy.
What is it for? "asked the violet.
For shining when the sun goes down."
What else did you say you could tell me ?"
"Oh, everything, most,-how to whistle, and
ring the school bell, and rattle bones, and spin
tops, and fly kites, and you can't have a gun till
you are big, and when something black chases you,
it is your shadow, and 'thou shalt not steal;' but I
forget the long one about gravy images."
Thank you," said the violet.
"Where is this ?" asked the little boy..
"The Land of the Grigs, this is; you can hear
them talking in the water down there with your--
your moon."
"Do they tell nice stories?" he asked.
Sometimes they do. I like to hear them talk
to the cows when they come here to drink. Just
VOL. III.-47.


scratch a frog on the back, and they will begin
talking to you in a minute."
The little boy stepped off his stone and scratched
a green frog with a small stick.
"If you should ever want to swim," said the
frog, "just do this in the water."
He did it so quickly that Alien could not see
what he did; but he thanked the frog when he
came back, hanging his fore-legs down, and slanting
his hind-legs.
I 'd like to know how to lie in the water that
way without touching bottom," he remarked.
"This! do you mean this?" asked the frog.
" This is just done by-doing it, you know. Hang
your legs down, slant your legs out; don't think
about it at all. Any baby frog can do this.
"I'd like to know," said the frog, in his turn,
" how you get across the meadow with your fore-
legs anywhere,--hanging down, or in the air; and
sometimes you swing them around your head, with
a piece of your head in one foot."
Perhaps that's my cap," said the boy. Why
you just take it off and swing it round, or throw it
in the air, if you like, and kick it; my little brother
can do that."
"Mine can't," said'the frog
I was a boy first," began a voice in the water,
" but I did not like it."
Little boy Allen listened with both his ears. He
liked to hear about boys once." The Grig's
voice was soft and pleasant, like a rustle in the
reeds.
No, I did not like to be a boy," he said. "I
had to go to bed every night, and had a velvet cap
tied under my chin to go to school, as soon as. I
had eaten my breakfast, and school was the worst
place of all. You sat on a bench, and if you did n't
know all there was in the books, somebody was
whipped for it."
Did you know then?" asked a crow.
"Not any more," answered the Grig, "and the
teacher said what was worst was, 'you don't want
to know, and you never will know, and you never
will be a man, sir.'"
The Grig's breezy voice grew quite awful when
he talked like his teacher.
"They would not let me alone to be a boy," he
continued, they kept poking me up to'read like
a man, and hold up my head like a man, to have.
my hat tied under my chin, and do sums and
geog'fy like a man."


697


THE LAND OF THE GRIGS.




THE LAND OF THE GRIGS.

BY ELIZA WOOD.





THE LAND OF THE GRIGS.


"You do know about the battle of Bunker's
Hill, don't you ?" asked Alien.
"No," shouted the Grig.
Nor Putnam, and Adam and Eve, and Corn-
wallis and Cesar, and Daniel Boone, and the Ionian
Isles?"
No-no-no roared the Grig.
Tell us some more things that you don't know
about," said Allen.
Oh, there's lot o'things! Five times six is
sixty-six. If you put three eggs, and two pigs,
and six dogs in one cart, and go five miles, how
many carts will go one mile in an hour?


Stop him up there called out a Grig. "We
always laugh when anybody knows anything,
especially a boy," explained the Grig who had
been talking. We feel so sorry for him, for

We are merry, laughing Grigs!
We are shouting, chaffing Grigs!
And we don't know a thing,
And can only dance and sing,
With the Grigs, Grigs, Grigs,
With the Grigs."

All the Grigs in the black water joined in the
chorus; some high, some low, and there was a
sound of castanets and pipes and reeds.


-- aS";'*.i -LiL
- --,-..-


ALLEN AND THE GRIGS.


I don't know that, nor geog'fy! continued the
Grig. "They would turn over as soon as I had
found out what was on one side of the world; slap
over, and ask you what is on the other side."
"Eastern Hemisphere," said Allen, so promptly
and gravely that all the Grigs laughed in chorus,
and he thought that even the crow smiled. He
was very much confused; but the white violets
looked kindly at him and gave him courage to say:
"Why do you laugh at me? It is the Eastern
Hemisphere on the other side. Europe, Asia,
Africa, and Australia."


But I like to know things," insisted the little
boy. My big brothers and father knows things,"
he added sadly and ungrammatically. "You must
know 'em before you grow up to be a man."
No, you need n't," called out a piping little
voice on the farther edge of the pool.
Yes, you need, too," said the boy, very stoutly,
for he was beginning to doubt.
Just then it seemed as if it must be pleasant to
be "A merry, laughing Grig," and not to know a
thing. He was oppressed by the extent of his
knowledge. You do have to know things," he


698


[SEPTEMBER,






THE LAND OF THE GRIGS.


asserted, daringly, "and I like it. I like to very
much, I do."
What do you like? asked his friend the Grig
with the pleasant voice.
"I like the things you didn't like when you
were a boy-sums and geography and history. I
am at the reign of George III., to find out why we
had to break away from the mother country," he
intended to say, but the Grigs laughed so immod-
erately that he had to join in with them, or sit still
and look very foolish.
Come down here and tell us all about it, old
fellow," said a Grig, at last; but he could hardly
speak for laughter. "It will be fun to have a
little chap like you tell us why we br-broke away
from the m-mother country. Excuse my smil-
ing."
I '11 tell you up here as much as I know about,"
Allen answered, if you don't laugh all the time,
for that confuses me and makes me laugh too,-
and it was a very sad time in our Colonial history,
you know; but you don't know, I think you said?"
There was some stifled laughter, but one Grig
remarked sternly: No, we do not know. Crack
your little whip, my hearty, and whoever laughs
again during this very sad time of our co-colonial
history, shall be immediately changed into a wise,
studious, learned little boy."
Little boy Allen cleared his throat and blushed.
He squeezed the white violet in his hand, and
looked down at the moon that seemed a silver boat
in the very black water.
The Grigs were suddenly as silent as the moon;
the white violets seemed to listen, too; he thought
he felt their fragrant breath against his cheek.
The crow, with his head sidewise, fixed one eye
upon him, and muttered unintelligibly,
I can't speak it like the books," he said, apol-
ogetically, because sometimes I forget the long
words."
Oh, no Don't, don't, don't!" roared the
Grigs.
Dear me, I was afraid you had all gone away,
you were so still. I am glad you have n't, though.
I '11 tell you as well as I can." His voice was very
faint as he began.
We had come over from England, the mother
country; and this America was our home, and we
loved it very much, as much as English people
loved their home, and perhaps more, because we
had, most of us, to work hard to keep warm in
winter, and to get food and clothes. It was a
struggling time for us, a hundred years ago, it was
a l ..I, time. It-- "
Oh my, how many times are you going to
repeat that fact ? asked a Grig.
"That's what we always have to do in our De-


bating Society, when we are not quite sure what
will come out next. Where was I ?"
"' It was a struggling time for us.' There's
where you are," said a Grig, and you'll set us
off roaring again, if you don't look out. What
made it a struggling time for us, Little Gravity, if
I may presume to ask your honor a question ? "
Certainly," said Allen, politely, "we always
like questions in our Society. It was a struggling
time, because it was. We were in our infancy,
and infants always do struggle."
Yes, they always do," shouted the Grigs, "tell
us some more."
The British nation had adopted measures that
made matters so very alarming," continued the
boy.
Ha, ha! Excuse me," said the breezy Grig.
" What had the dear old mother done ? We want
to be clear about this. It is so much more fun
than dragging it out of books at school. But what
had the British nation done? Five minutes for
deliberation."
Thank you," said little boy Allen. He tried
hard to remember the long words of the history;
but he could not help counting the stars in the
water, till a voice said:
Time is up."
She had nagged us for a long time, and was
so hard upon us, that even Lord Chatham said,
we could n't be expected to make up, if they did n't
ease off a little."
But what had she done to us,-that is the
point? insisted the pleasant-voiced Grig.
I 'll have to look over it again, and come back
and tell you," answered little boy Allen. It
seems to me that we were taxed very much more
than we could pay, and badly used about a great
many things; and when Dr. Benjamin Franklin,
and other Americans, went to England to see about
it, they were snubbed, and told they had n't any
right to ask questions. Then Lord Chatham tried
again to arrange our affairs, by asking that we
might not be taxed any more unless we agreed to
it ourselves at home, in our assemblies, and they
just would not listen to him."
A scrubby lot! remarked a Grig.
It was taxation without representation, that we
objected to," said the little boy. He had thought
very hard until he remembered the words of the
book.
Taxation without representation,' repeated a
deep-voiced Grig, who seemed to be near the sur-
face, and he 's a fat little chap sitting on a stone,
and if you'll believe me, even those long words
don't upset him."
"I learned them to-day," said the boy. "Who-
ever understands the subject best, when we debate


1876.]


699





THE LEGEND OF ANTWERP.


before the master next term, is to have a gold
medal."
Hear, hear shouted the Grigs, and for a few
moments there was such a clapping and clacking,
and piping and bassooning, that Allen could not
speak at all.
He was much encouraged, however, by their
applause, and continued with great solemnity as
soon as they were silent.
We had no representatives in England, and
yet we were taxed in the Colonies. When we
found that the Tax Bill had really passed both
houses of Parliament, and had become a law, our
indignation was boundless. In Boston harbor the
flags were hung at half-mast; the bells :in the
churches were muffled to ring a funeral peal; the
Act was burned as soon as it came from the King's
printing-house, and on the day upon which it was
to be enforced, not a sheet of stamped paper was
to be found anywhere, so they could not carry on
any business that required stamps, and the courts
of justice were closed."
Good very good said the deep-voiced Grig
near the surface. How did it end? How did it
end?" called out a great many voices.
It ended in the repeal of the Act in the British
Parliament; but I have n't quite got to that."
Enough enough enough! piped up shrill
voices in great numbers all around the edge of the
pond.
Don't you want to hear how they enforced the


Stamp Act again, and the heavy duty upon tea,
and glass, and -- "
Too much at a time, young un said a gruff
voice.
But we rebelled and fought about it, and de-
clared our independence, Fourth of July, and ever
so much more,-American Revolution "
"Come again! come again shouted all the
Grigs, in all their voices, high and low, clear and
shrill, deep and sweet, breezy and strong.
"There's George Washington," said the little
boy; "I have not brought him in yet. And
'Hail Columbia, happy land!' and 'Star-Spangled

Oh, scratch my back! said a frog.
",And all men free and equal."
Come again! come again Scratch my back,
bully boy! Come again! Scratch my back."
All the voices joining in to stop little boy Allen,
and the crow still looking at him sidewise, and
drawing a lead-colored shade over his eye. The
little white violets hanging their heads, and no
silver boat now in the black water.
He thinks he saw in the sedge near him just the
very point of a red.silk night-cap,, that must have
been on the head of the breezy-voiced Grig, and
if so, he is sure he will know that voice again, and
he is going back, he says, the first night that he
hears all the voices calling at once :
Come again come again Scratch my back I
Come again, bully boy, come again "


THE LEGEND OF ANTWERP.

By M. R. H.


MORE than three thousand years ago,
Antigonus lived, the merchants' foe;
The grim old giant his castle held
On a bend of the lovely river Scheld.

Dark and gloomy against the sky,
The castle lifted its turret high;
While planted upon the rocky crag
Always floated the battle flag.

Around and about those vine-decked shores
Flashed white-winged ships and gleaming oars;
And happy and lucky the sailor bold
Who passed unchallenged, for goods or gold.


For the giant claimed, as a tax and fee,
Half the treasure brought over the sea;
And far and wide as the eye could reach,
Bales and boxes bestrewed the beach.

From early morning to set of sun,
The task of robbing the ships was done;
All grimly clad in his coat of mail,
Antigonus watched for the coming sail.

This was, the rule that the giant made,
Briskly plying his robber trade:
Failing to bring the gold to land,
He cut off the skipper's good right hand.


700


[SEPTEMBER,






THE LEGEND OF ANTWERP.


Then up rose the valiant knight Brabo,
To fight the giant, of course, you know;
And the good old legend tells, beside,
How by Brabo's weapon the giant died.


So the conquering hero's deed and fame
Is kept alive by the country's name;
Brabant they call the land this day,
For love of the knight, the legends say.


Many and many a winter night,
When hearths are cheery and faces bright,
The children will cease their noisy play,
To hear of the giant, passed away.


"Ah he never lived !" laughs a gay fraulein;
"I know very well what the elders mean!
Why, the name is from ae'ntwerf, I've been told,
And not from hand-werfpen of giant bold!"


THE CITY OF ANTWERP.


Still past the quaint old Belgian town
Of Antwerp the river runneth down;
And still on the city arms doth stand
A hand that's clasping another hand.


On the whart.


"Oh, ., i.-rm. fraulein! the children plead,
"We believe the story-we do, indeed !"
And over and over they hear it told,
The legend that now is centuries old.


It will last, they say. to the end of time;
It is told in prose, it is told in rhyme;
But the little ones say, in whispers low,
"It is well that it happened so long ago!"

t Hand-throwing; because the hands, when cut off, were thrown into the sea.


T876. 1


7oi







702 A TASTE FOR READING. [SEPTEMBER,


BY THE BROOK-SIDE.


A TASTE FOR READING.

BY OLIVE THORNE.


MANY years ago an enthusiastic girl, whose
name you never heard, deliberately set out to
" improve her mind." Blindly and secretly grop-
ing about for the best way, she stumbled upon
various maxims for the guidance of earnest young
souls, and putting them all together, she adopted
for herself a set of rules intended to correct all her
faults and complete her education, and of which
I will tell you only those which were to direct her
reading. The first required her to rise at five
o'clock, retire to a cold room in the third story,
and read for two hours in some "solid" work;
and the second, never to read a second sentence
until she understood the first.
Dear me! I see her now, poor struggling soul!
wrapped in a shawl, eyes half open, poring over
" Finney's Theology," the most solid book in her
father's library. No one can ever know the tough
wrestles she had with the "Theory of Divine Gov-
ernment," and "Moral Obligation," nor the faith-
fulness with which she adhered to the second
rule, of understanding each sentence; which often
resulted, by the way, in limiting her reading to a
single half-page in a morning.
Have yoz found out that you know very little ?
-that books are full of allusions totally dark to
you ? Have you learned that graduating, even at


a college, will not complete your education ? Do
you long for cultivation ? Then to you I hold out
my hands. Let us see if we cannot avoid the
rocks that have wrecked so many honest endeav-
orers besides the girl of that far-off day with her
Theology.
For the first, and greatest of these rocks-you
will attempt too much. You will wake up to your
needy condition suddenly, perhaps, and looking
over the biography of Franklin, or some one else
who lived by rule,--or at least made rules to live
by,-you will, if you 're an earnest soul, lay out
for yourself such a code of laws, mental, moral
and physical, as an aged philosopher would find
hard to live by. Eagerly you will begin, and faith-
fully carry them out for a while; but human nature
is weak, enthusiasm will die out, your lapses from
rules will become more frequent, and you will
fall back into the old careless life, discouraged;
perhaps resume your novel-reading, and never ad-
vance beyond the shallow life-you see about you
and find so easy.
My dear girl! don't be so hard with yourself.
Don't expect to jump from light novels to Carlyle,
and to relish his bracing atmosphere. Do not
begin with a book that requires the close attention
of a student, and force yourself to read, yawning,


702


A TASTE FOR READING.


[SEPTEMBER,








1576 1 A TASTE FOR READING. 703


with wandering mind and closing eyes. Do not
open a dry history, beginning at the first chapter,
resolved to read it through anyway. Never stint
your sleep, nor freeze nor starve yourself. All
these are worse than useless; they discourage you.
A taste for solid reading must be cultivated, and
books that are tedious at fourteen may be lamps
to your feet at forty.
There is an easier and better way. You need
not despair of acquiring an interest in instructive
reading, even if you have always read novels, have
little time at your disposal, or have reached the
age of gray hairs. It is never, too late to begin to
cultivate yourself.
Do not lay out in detail a "course of reading."
Probably you would not follow it, and the moral
effect of making a plan and giving it up is injuri-
ous. But there is another reason for my advice.
When you become interested in a subject, tien is
the time to follow it up, and read everything you
can get hold of about it. What you read when
thus keenly interested you will remember and make
your own, and that is the secret of acquiring knowl-
edge: to study a thing when your mind is awake
and eager to know more. No matter if it leads you
away from the book with which you set out; and if
it sends you to another subject, so that you never
again open the original book, so much the better;
you are eager, you are learning, and the object of
reading is to learn, not to get through a certain
number of books.
What we read with inclination," said wise old
Dr. Johnson, "makes a strong impression. What
we read as a task, is of little use."
When you read a book that interests you, you
naturally wish to know more of its author. That
is the time to make his acquaintance. Read his
life, or an account of him in an encyclopedia;
look over his other writings, and become familiar
with him. Then you have really added something
to your knowledge. If you fettered yourself with
a course," you could not do this, and before you
finished a book, you would have forgotten the
special points which interested you as you went
through.
You think that history is dull reading, perhaps.
I'm afraid that is because you have a dull way of
reading it, not realizing that it is a series of true
and wonderful stories of men's lives, beyond com-
parison more marvelous and interesting than the
fictitious lives we read in novels. The first pages
are usually dry, I admit, and I advise you not to
look at them till you feel a desire to do so; but
select some person, and follow out the story of his
life, or some event, and read about that, and I
assure you, you will find a new life in the old books.
After getting, in this way, a fragmentary ac-


quaintance with a nation, its prominent men and
striking events, you will doubtless feel anxious to
know its whole story, and then, reading it with
interest, you will remember what you read.
But there are other subjects in which you may
be interested. You wish first to know about the
few great books and authors generally regarded
and referred to as the fountain-heads of the world's
literature. It is impossible, in a little talk like
this, to give definite directions for gaining a knowl-
edge of these. Needs vary in almost every case,
and a book that might wisely be selected for one
girl, might be a very poor choice for another. Al-
most every one can turn to some judicious relative
or friend who, at least, can start her in' a good
direction. Once started, the way is delightful and
easy. There are many entrances into the great
temples of literature-you need not go in by all
of them.
There are many well known and often quoted
authors, concerning whom you will wish to be in-
formed, even if you never read their works. You
want to know when they lived and what they wrote.
The world of books is too large for any one to
know thoroughly; you must select from the wide
range what suits your taste, and be content to
have an outside, or title-page, knowledge of the
rest.
Above all, in your reading you want to avoid
becoming narrow and one-sided. Read both sides
of a question. If you read a eulogistic biography
of a person, read also, if possible, one written from
an opposite stand-point. You will find that no one
is wholly bad, nor wholly good, and you will grow
broad in your views.
But perhaps you don't know how to read by
subjects. Let me tell you. Suppose you see an
allusion to something that interests you-say Sir
Walter Raleigh; look for his name in an encyclo-
pedia or biographical dictionary (which you will
find in every tolerable village library). Reading
of him, you will become interested in Queen Eliza-
beth; look her up, in the same books, and in
English history; observe the noted men of her
reign, look them up, read their lives; read histor-
ical novels and poems of her times; look at the
table of contents of magazines and reviews, and
read essays on the subject. You see the way open
before you. Once make a start, and there is
scarcely an end to the paths you will wish to fol-
low.
If you have no special subject of interest, take
up an encyclopedia, slowly turn the leaves, and
read any item that attracts you, not forcing your-
self to read .. i Ji-i _-. If you have any life in you
you will find something to interest you; then you
have your subject. If it is some historical person


703


x876.J


A TASTE FOR READING.





[SEPTEMBER,


JOHN BOTTLEJOHN.


or event, proceed as I have already indicated; if
scientific, overhaul the dictionaries of science, lives
of scientific men, discussions of disputed points,
etc.; if geographical, turn to a gazetteer, books of
travels, etc. One book will lead to another.
Right here let me say, I hope you have access to
these works of reference, either in your own house,
or that of a friend, or at a public library. But if
your case is the very worst-if you have none, can-
not buy them, and have no public library in your
neighborhood, let me advise you to drop every-
thing else, and make it your sole and special mis-
sion to start one, either by influencing your parents
and older friends, or by getting up a club of your
mates. A strong will and earnest effort will ac-
complish wonders, and all older people are willing
to help younger ones to useful tools.
To return to your reading. Your memory is
bad, perhaps-every one complains of that; but I
can tell you two secrets that will cure the worst
memory. One I mentioned above: to read a sub-
ject when strongly interested. The other is, to not
only read, but think. When you have read a para-
graph or a page, stop, close the book, and try to
remember the ideas on that page, and not only
recall them vaguely in your mind, but put them
into words and speak them out. Faithfully follow
these two rules, and you have the golden keys of
knowledge. Besides inattentive reading, there
are other things injurious to memory. One is the
habit of skimming over newspapers, items of news,
smart remarks, bits of information, political reflec-


tions, fashion notes, all in a confused jumble, never
to be thought of again, thus diligently cultivating
a habit of careless reading, hard to break. Another
is the reading of trashy novels. Nothing is so
fatal to reading with profit as the habit of running
through story after story, and forgetting them as
soon as read. I know a gray-haired woman, a life-
long lover of books, who sadly declares that her
mind has been ruined by such reading.
A help to memory is repetition. Nothing is so
certain to keep your French fresh, and ready for
use, as to have always on hand an interesting story
in that language, to take up for ten minutes every
day. In that case, you will not "forget your
French" with the majority of your schoolmates.
A love of books, dear girls, is one of the greatest
comforts in life. No one can be wholly unhappy
or solitary who possesses it. From thoughtless
youth to hoary age, books are a refreshment for
the weary, society for the lonely, helpers for the
weak. A taste for good reading is one of the best
gifts in the world-better than beauty, almost bet-
ter than health, and incalculably better than wealth.
The pleasures ,of a comfortably filled mind can
never be estimated.
In conclusion, let me beg that whatever you learn
in books you will learn thoroughly. Content your-
self with no smattering surface acquaintance, but
endeavor to thoroughly know and understand your
subject, step by step, as you go on. Master one
subject, and you have taken a long step toward a
broad and cultivated womanhood.


JOHN BOTTLEJOHN.

BY LAURA E. RICHARDS.

LITTLE John Bottlejohn lived on the hill,
And a blithe little man was he;
And he won the heart of a little mermaid
Who lived in the deep blue sea.
And every evening she used to sit
And sing on the rocks by the sea:
" Oh, little John Bottlejohn! pretty John Bottlejohn!
Wont you come out to me ?"

Little John Bottlejohn heard her song,
And he opened his little door;
And he hopped and he skipped, and he skipped and he hopped
Until he came down to the shore.


704






JOHN BOTTLEJOHN.


And there on a rock sat the little mermaid,
And still she was singing so free-
" Oh, little John Bottlejohn pretty John Bottlejohn!
Wont you come out to me? "


Little John Bottlejohn made a bow,
And the mermaid she made one, too,
And she said: Oh! I never saw anything half
So perfectly sweet as you,


In my beautiful home, neathh the ocean foam,
How happy we both should be!
Oh, little John Bottlejohn pretty John Bottlejohn !
Wont you come down with me ?"


Little John Bottlejohn said: "Oh, yes,
I '11 willingly go with you;
And I never will quail at the sight of your tail,
For perhaps I may grow one too."
So he took her hand, and he left the land,
And he plunged in the foaming main;
And little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,
Never was seen again.


1876.]


705


__--4






OUR COLONIAL COINS.


OUR COLONIAL COINS.

BY G. D. MATHEWS.


PROBABLY very few of the readers of ST. NICH-
OLAS know anything of the coins of this land
before it was a country, when it was merely a home





THE PINE-TREE SHILLING. REVERSE.




THE PINE-TREE SHILLING. REVERSE.


and a shelter for colonists from Europe. This
Centennial year, therefore, will be a fitting season
for saying something about those odd-looking pen-
nies that one sometimes meets with, and which
have so close a connection with our early history.
Many of these coins were semi-national in their
origin, being issued by State authorities, before as
well as after the Declaration of Independence.
Some were private ventures, struck here or in
Great Britain; while others, -again, were issued by
France for her colonies in Louisiana. Of these
pieces, many are now rare, but we shall describe a
number of them, coming down to the period when


MASSACHUSETTS CENT.


. ,


REVERSE.


the United States Government exercised its pre-
rogative as an independent power, of issuing its
own money.
Wampum-that is, strings of shells ground down
so that each piece was about the size of a grain of
corn-was used by the Indians for ornament and
for barter. The early colonists, through trading
with the Indians, became accustomed to this article,
and used it to some extent among themselves.
But as it would not be taken by the merchants in
Europe for goods ordered from them, a metallic
currency was soon demanded.
In 1652, therefore, the General Court of Massa-


chusetts issued at Boston some silver pieces of the
value of twelve and of six English pennies each.
These coins were merely round, flat pieces of silver,
with "N. E." (New England) on the one side, and
the value, XII. or VI., on the other. The frugal
authorities wasted no money on engraving, not
even announcing the year in which the coins were
issued.
This coinage was, however, so distasteful, be-
cause of the absence of any design, that another
series was at once issued, on some of which is a
scraggy oak-tree, inclosed in a circle of dots, out-
side of which are the words "Masathvsets in,"
while round the edge on the reverse is the remain-
der of the legend, "New England, An: Dom."


Ia ., I .:- -



-


CONNECTICUT CENT.


'*




EVESE ..

REVERSE.


On this reverse is the date, 1652, in the center, with
the numeral of value, XII., VI., III. or II., below
it. On others of this design is a pine-tree; and
while of both these designs occasional issues took
place during nearly thirty years, yet the date 1652
is the only one used.
Charles the Second, it is said, regarded this coin-
age of the colony as an encroachment on his pre-
rogative. We believe, however, that his dislike
was overcome by the statement that the design was
a memorial of the famous oak-tree hiding-place
of his father !
In 1685 the Boston Mint was closed by royal

-...



-



CONNECTICUT CENT. REVERSE.


command, and remained so for more than a cen-
tury. After the Revolution, Massachusetts issued


706


[SEPTEMBER,








OUR COLONIAL COINS. 707


for local use copper cent and half-cent pieces. On
these the device is that of an Indian chief with bow
and arrow. To the left of his face there is a star,


I'.-
-_ ,-
-. !'IY


CONNECTICUT CENT.


g--



RV'R -S.
RE- ERSE.-
REVERSE.


while the legend is the word "Commonwealth."
On the reverse is an eagle, with arrows in its left
talon and an olive branch in its right, the breast
being covered with a shield, oh which is the word
" Cent." The legend on this side is "Massachu-
setts," and the coins bear the date 1787 or 1788,
the former being much the rarer piece. In 1788
the Federal Government prohibited all further
coinages by the local States, intending to establish
a national mint, and thus a second time the Boston
Mint ceased operations.
While Massachusetts was the only State that
ever issued silver coins, other States surpassed her
in the amount of their issues of copper. In 1785,
Connecticut issued a copper cent, stamped with a
bust that passed for Washington, with the legend,
"Auctori Connec." (By the authority of Connecti-

&-f", :.. /f ..
.
,- ,'. : '. ,, ", A






VERMONT CENT (REVERSE). REVERSE, 1787.

cut). On the reverse is the Goddess of Liberty,
with the words, "Inde. et Lib.," contracted for
"Independentia et Libertas," with the date. Cop-
per cents were also issued by this State in 1786,
1787, and in 1788.
To Vermont belongs the honor of having a coin-
age issued by her own authorities even before she
was recognized by Congress as an independent
State. In 1785, this State coined a cent with a
device as poetical as it was patriotic. On the ob-
verse is the All-seeing Eye; around this are thir-
teen radiating lines, alternately long and short,
with a star between each; while the legend reads,
" uarta. Decima Stella "-Vermont claiming to
be the fourteenth star in the Federal galaxy. On
the reverse is a portion of the sun's disk as he rises


over pine-crowned mountains; while between the
date (1785) and the base of the mountains is a
plow, the legend being, "Vermonts. (in some
cases Vermontis) Res. Publica" In the following
year on cents of this design we have Vermonten-
sium;" but on other cents, in place of this early
design, there appears a conventional bust of Wash-
ington in armor, with the legend Vermon Auc-
tori," while on the reverse is the Goddess of Lib-
erty, with the customary "Inde. et Lib.," and the
date, 1786, 1787, or 1788.
New Jersey, or, as it was first called, Nova
Cmsarea, had no State coinage till 1786; but in
that year, as also in 1787 and 1788, cents were
issued of a very distinctive device. On the obverse






-'I



NEW JERSEY CENT. REVERSE.

is a plow, surmounted by a horse's head, with
the legend, Nova Caesarea," and bearing the
date 1786. On the reverse is a large heart-shaped
shield, the legend being E Pluribus Unum."
We have now described the designs on the
State coinages of money previous to our national
issues; but a second division of this early money
may be made of the coins prepared abroad for use
here. Of these the rarest, and, at the same time,
the most interesting, is the silver shilling, or groat,
struck in 1659 in England by Lord Baltimore for
circulation in Maryland, of which territory he was
governor and proprietor. These pieces, known as
the Baltimore shillings, show considerable taste in
their device.
Another of these foreign coined pieces is called
the Carolina halfpenny. This has on the obverse




S .-- I
V -T!




CAROLINA HALFPENNY. REVERSE.
a large elephant, standing. On the reverse are
the words, God preserve Carolina and the Lords
Proprieters, 1694." The date shows that this was


1876.]


OUR COLONIAL COINS.


707






OUR COLONIAL COINS.


struck during the reign of William and Mary, while
the device of the elephant connects it with some of
the great firms that traded with the East Indies.
This halfpenny was, therefore, probably issued by
some persons who had an interest in American as
well as in Asiatic commerce.
In 1722, an Englishman named Wood obtained
leave to coin twopennies, pennies, and halfpennies
for use in the colonies. Having to pay a large sum


'"



4. ..
-
A, ,


ROSA AMERICANA HALFPENNY. REVERSE.

for this privilege, Wood re-imbursed himself by
making the coins worth intrinsically only half their
legal value. From their legend, these are known
as the Rosa Americana series.
The colony of Virginia could not be overlooked
by the industrious money-makers across the Atlan-
tic, and in 1773 the "Virginia halfpenny" made
its appearance. On the obverse is a head of George
the Third, and on the reverse the arms of Great
Britain, a crown, and the word Virgi nia."
Our Declaration of Independence, and the hos-
tilities which followed it, did not prevent the en-
gravers of Great Britain from still seeking to profit
by the American market.. An immense number


VIRINIA HALPENNY.
V *,.-. [?rAPNl




VIRGINIA HALFPENNY.


-, I -

-; r I
'.::, ..i! <
l- --.


REVERSE.


of coins and tokens were now struck in England
and sent here to be used as halfpennies or cents.
Of these, we have the Nova Constelatio" series,
having on the obverse the All-seeing Eye, with
radiating beams, between each of which is a star,
the legend being "Nova Constelatio." On the
reverse, a wreath incloses the letters "U. S." in
Roman characters, while the legend is '' Libertas
+ Justitia," the date being 1783. In 1785 there
was another issue, the legend reading, Libertas
et Justitia," while the U. S." is in script charac-
ters.
Another extensive issue was that of the "Wash-
ington cents," of which there were several varieties.


NOVA CONSTELATIO CENT. REVERSE.

The earliest of these is called the small-head
cent," from the size of the bust of Washington, the
legend being "Washington and Independence,"
with the date 1783. On the reverse is a figure of
Liberty seated, with the legend United States."
On a second type of this series we have the ob-
verse and the reverse alike, the design being that
of the obverse of the cent just described, the word
Washington alone appearing, so that this is known
as the "double-headed Washington cent." A third
type has an entirely different head, and, from the


WASHINGTON CENT.


1 N



WASHINGTON "UNITY" CENT
(REVERSE).


error in the legend on the reverse, is known as the
" unity cent."
New York State seems to have had no local
mint, so that the coins called "New York cents"
were all imported. On some of these there is a
bust of Washington, with the boastful and un-
Washingtonian legend, "Non vi sed virtute vici"
(not by force, but by virtue, I conquered) ; with a
reverse of Liberty seated, the legend being Neo
Eboracensis" (New York), and the date 1786.
To our very incomplete sketch we must yet add
a brief description of the currency used in the


,
"- .a.iO .=:. )7. j, I)



ROSA AMERICANA HALFPENNY
(ANOTHER ISSUE).


r,:' -








SMALL-HEAD CENT
(REVERSE).


French colonies of Louisiana. In the beginning of
the last century, Louis XV. issued a copper piece


708


[SEPTEMBER,





TWO OF THEM.


having two L's crossed beneath a crown, with the
usual French legend, Sit nomen Domini Benedic-
tum (Blessed be the name of the Lord); while on
the reverse there is simply, in three lines across
the field, Colonies Frangoises, 1721," or 1722.
In 1767, there was another issue of copper
money, but with a different device. On the ob-
verse there is a wreath inclosing the French arms,









LOUISIANA CENT. REVERSE.
with the legend and date. On the reverse are two
scepters crossed with L., XV. in the angles, the
letter A denoting the Paris Mint mark, while the


LOUISIANA CENT,


REVERSE.


words "Colonies Francoises" are in two curved
lines.
A fuller description of the coins that go under the
general name of American colonials is forbidden
by our space. Should any of our readers be coin-
collecting, we wish them, however, to remember
that the most useful collection is that which con-
tains good specimens of the different types or pat-
terns of the various coins, and not merely full
sets of the issues of any particular coin.


TWO OF THEM.

By CARRIE W. THOMPSON.

A BROOK and wee Elsie
Were playing together,
One frolicsome day
Of the sunshiny weather,
At "tag" and "bo-peep;"
Naught, creatures were they,
For di.. brook and wee Elsie
Had both run away.

One time, when they paused
In a lovely cool place,
Elsie saw in the water
Her round dimpled face;
And "How funny!" she said,
With a wondering look,-
" Now, how could my face
Get into the brook?"

A half-minute later,
A gypsying bee
Left Elsie in tears,
Sorry object to see.
" Here's another queer problem,"
The little brook cries;
" Now, how did I ever
Get into her eyes?"


709


1876.]





THE RACES AT SHARK BAY.


THE RACES AT SHARK BAY.

BY REBECCA HARDING DAVIS.


'' 1


THIS picture of the fox and stork always puts
me in mind of the Great Races at Shark Bay. The
true account of that affair is this :
It was Uncle Jeems that brought the boys down
to the bay. Their fathers had gone out to sea for
a day's trolling for mackerel, and, being afraid to
'leave a lot of city boys running loose over the
farm, called the old man out of the stable, and put
them under his care.
Fuss-rate," said Uncle Jeems, coming up when
the gentlemen were gone. I'll gib yoh a day's
spoht, young gemplems "
You '11 attend to your own concerns," said
Pugh, loftily. Come, Potter. If we are to spend
the day at Shark's Bay, we can provide amusement
for ourselves, I imagine,"-and they walked away
arm in arm. Ted and Joe and little Polly clung to
Uncle Jeems, and trotted after them.
Pugh and Potter were academy boys, and quite
ten years old. They always "imagined" and "pre-
sumed when Ted would have said he "thinked it
out." When they landed from the boat, the other
day, they were quite sure all the boarders were
looking at them, just as at home on Broadway
they thought the crowd admired them passing by.
Their only reason for expecting this public atten-
tion was that Pugh was studying Greek verbs and


Potter had a watch; and there are a great many
persons of whom these things can be said.
Though we do meet people sometimes, who
think everybody is admiring them, who do not
even study Greek, and have not a watch.
Since they came to the country, Pugh wore his
best clothes of gray cloth, and Potter a full suit of
white linen, with magnificent neck-ties and scarf-
rings. They were very much ashamed of the flan-
nel shirts and old trousers in which their fathers
would go fishing.
What kind of sport shall we have ?" Ted asked
the old man when they came in sight of the bay.
Dat 's foh de young men to say, sah,"-and
Uncle Jeems sat down on a log and began to pick
the barnacles off it.
Never you mind," said Potter, graciously.
"We'll take care of you little fellows."
The bay was a very little bay, only two or three
miles wide. It sparkled in the sun, and now and
then a crab came to the top and made a ring of
ripples on the tan-colored water. There was a
strip of sandy beach all around it, and back of that,
green and brown marshes, as far as you could see
inland. The bay opened out into the sea, which,
no doubt, was a very grand background; but Ted
and Polly took very little account of it-it was so


[SEPTEMBER,


71o





THE RACES AT SHARK BAY.


big and uncomfortable. Sand-hills and the mud
in the marsh were the things,-that is if you went
in for enjoyment.
Pugh and Potter consulted awhile. Then Pugh
said, as if he were making a speech:
We are going to have races "
"Oh, goody cried Polly.
Hooray shrieked Ted and Joe. Races I "
The Grand Races of Shark Bay !-that's the
name of them. Two heats. I'm to lay down the
rules for the first heat, and Potter for the second.
Now d' ye understand ? Two heats ?"
Two heats Hooray yelled Ted and Joe,
while Polly swung her sun-bonnet by the strings
and screamed louder than either.
That will do. You 'll make me deaf, child.
Now I '11 make the rules for the first race. The
starting-point is this log-just here, and that boat
drawn up on the beach is the goal. Every man
entering the race must put down a quarter of a
dollar "
: Have n't got a quarter," sung out Ted.
"Hooray began Polly, but stopped short.
Well, put in what you have got."
Potter and Pugh each took out their porte-mon-
naies, and flung down a quarter of a dollar on a
mossy log. Ted and Joe whispered eagerly to-
gether,
Is the one that wins to have all the money ? "
asked Joe.
Yes, yes. Come, don't be all day about it."
"Now, I've got fifteen cents and Ted's got
fifteen. If we put in ten each, we'll have five for
the second heat. Will that do ?"
"Don't yoh resk yoh money, chillen," growled
Jeems. You have n't got de ghost of a chance
againstt dah long legs. Don't yoh see ? "
But Ted and Joe were breathless with eagerness.
Can we go in on that? Can Polly go in, too ? "
"Oh yes, yes." Pugh and Potter laughed and
exchanged significant glances. Now," said Pugh,
fifteen minutes for preparation."
He disappeared suddenly in the marsh-grass.
Potter took off his coat. Ted and Joe, anxiously
watching him, did the same.
Mine's a frock," said Polly, ready to cry. But
when Potter unlaced his shoes, and Ted and Joe
did likewise, she tore off both shoes and stockings
and hopped about in her fat, bare feet.
Take your places said Potter, throwing back
his suspenders. His face was very red, and he
looked now and then anxiously at the little heap of
twenty-five and ten-cent notes.
They all stood in a row by the log, right foot
out, looking impatiently about for Pugh.
I think Polly ought to have a start. She's the
littlest," said Ted.


"That's against Latin rules," said Potter, sol-
emnly. "' Mensa, mensce, menses, mensam.'"
"Oh!" said Ted, looking aghast. I did n't
know."
"Come along, Pugh shouted Potter, sharply.
"I hear you back there. Time's up! I'll give
the word. One-two-three! Go! "
They all dashed off, Potter ahead. But he stopped
short when Pugh broke through the marsh-grass
mounted on his velocipede, which he had brought
down with him from town. It ran like lightning
over the hard beach.
Unfair Foul! Back back shouted Pot-
,ter, and after him Ted and Joe.
It is fair," said Pugh. "There was no agree-
ment that it was to be a foot-race."
Potter was silent a moment. Come on, then,"
he said, sullenly.
We can beat him, anyhow, Potter," shouted
Ted,.wild with excitement.
They made a fresh start. Potter ran leisurely,
not trying to win. Poor little Polly tumbled down
after a yard or two, and came back crying to Uncle
Jeems. Ted and Joe went tearing along only to
see Pugh, seated on his crimson velvet cushion,
run easily before them all the way and round the
goal with a triumphant sweep of the wheels. He
rode back laughing, gathered up the money, and
put it in his pockets.
Yoh gwine t' take dem chillen's money?" said
Uncle Jeems.
That's the rules of the race," said Pugh.
Why, of course, that's the rules of the race !"
cried Ted. "Come on! Second heat! Plank
down your five cents, Joe."
Joe obeyed. Pugh and Potter put down their
stakes.
Starting-point and goal the same," said Potter.
"Fifteen minutes for preparation." And he dis-
appeared in the marsh-grass.
"I wont run this time, boys," said Polly, look-
ing first at one red little sole and then the other.
But Ted and Joe were hot with eagerness to be
off. They danced up and down in front of the log.
Pugh sat, smiling, on his velocipede.
There was a stir presently in the grass.
Time's up !" cried Joe. One-two-
three "
Go shouted Potter, dashing into the course
on his pony. He had not had time to saddle him,
and rode clinging to the mane. Pugh rushed for-
ward for a few rods, but was left far behind.
Ted and Joe raced furiously along until they
were out of breath. The flying heels of the pony
left only a cloud of sand in their faces.
They came back red and perspiring, ready .to
cry, but swallowed down the sobs as they pulled on


X876.]


711







712 THE RACES AT SHARK BAY. [SEPTES BEE,


their coats. Potter cantered up and stuffed his
winnings into his pocket.
There was a miserable silence. The sun was hot
and glared upon the sand.
"I don't think races is very good fun," said
Polly.
Potter and Pugh chuckled.
Is that all the sport you know ?" asked Ted.
"That's all," said Pugh.
His velocipede would not run except on the nar-
row strip of hard beach; he gave it a kick and sat
down. Potter's pony was minded to go to its
stable; he abused it for an obstinate little beast,
and, jumping off, let it gallop back. Then he sat
down beside Pugh. Their full pockets did not
seem to put the two boys into a good humor. Ted
and Joe put their hands into their empty ones,
tried to look indifferent, and yawned.
Is dem dar races done run?" said Uncle Jeems,
dryly.
"Yes," said Ted. Polly nodded two or three
times. A tear ran down to the tip of her little red
nose, and hung there.
Wal (the old man got up slowly) "reckon
it's our tuhn now, chillen "-and he disappeared
in the marsh-grass.
Pugh and Potter sneered, but Ted and Joe stared
all about them with wide-open eyes.
In two minutes, on the water from behind a
clump of cedars and bay bushes, appeared Uncle
Jeems, aboard of the dirtiest, loveliest little boat
you ever saw. A regular schooner, fully twenty
feet long, with two masts and sails, and. a red
streamer fluttering at the peak !
Dis yere's de full-rigged, fast-going ship Polly,
bound foh Europe, Californy, and Japan !" cried
Uncle Jeems, steering her.up to the shore. "Ted,
commander! Joe, fust captain Polly, passen-
ger Uncle Jeems, crew! All aboard. Rig your
maintopsail, my hearties "
Ted and Joe had no breath to cheer. Their
eyes were set with astonishment and delight. Polly
gave a little cackle of a "Hooray !" and then
jumped up and down, holding up her arms. Me?
me ? Did you mean me, Uncle Jeems ?"
"Yoh's de on'y lady ob de name ob Polly I
Know yereabouts," lifting her on deck with a jump.
"All aboard, captain! "
Ted and Joe swarmed over the bow. Pugh and
Potter came close as they could. They had quite
forgotten their dignity in the excitement.
Is n't she a beauty ? Regular sea-going vessel,
is n't she, Uncle Jeems ? Something lile a boat,
to have two masts "
Look at the anchor shrieked Polly. "And
the dear little house shut up by a lid "
That's the forecastle, you goose," said Ted.


" But just see the rudder Why, you can turn it!
Can I steer-oh, can I steer ?"
Ob course. And Mars Joe, he min' de sail.
Miss Polly, she captain ob de center-board. You
hold dat stick tight, honey. Now we's off. Rig
yer jib-boom Man yer topsail halyards, my
hearties '
"Aye, aye, sir shouted Ted and Joe; and the
little boat went plunging out into the flashing
waves, the red streamer flapping overhead in the
sunlight, and the masts, with Ted's steering, rock-
ing topsily to and fro.
"We've got .to take keer of shipwreck," said
Uncle Jeems, gravely.
"Of course of course! cried Ted and Joe.
The water in the bay was not two feet deep, but
they did not know that.
Pugh and Potter looked disconsolately at them
and the boat, driven here and there before a free
wind.
Father would never let me go in a boat alone,"
said Pugh.
".Seems as if we'd lost our one chance," rejoined
Potter. Hang the old darkey Look here, Uncle
Jeems," he shouted, are n't we to go aboard ?"
"Ship 's commanded by Cap'in Teddy, sah.
I'se de crew."
"I say, fellows !" cried Pugh. "This is poor
fun for us."
"That 's so !" said Joe. Put about, Ted.
Take 'em aboard."
Take 'em aboard cried Polly. Hooray !"
".Let dem.dar alone. Dat's my 'dvice," mut-
tered Jeems. But he brought the boat ashore, and
the boys jumped on deck.
SNo sooner did they find themselves safely there
than they began to take command.
Give me that rudder, Ted," said Potter. Joe,
let Pugh have that rope. Let that stick alone,
Polly. What do such chubs as you know about
sailing a vessel ? "
He dropped the rudder in a minute, however, to
rush with Pugh to the bow, to look at a fish jump
out of the water. And then-how it came about
nobody could say (Uncle Jeems had the sheet in
hand, and surely he knew how to manage it)-the
boom swung around, and over went Potter and
Pugh headlong into the water.
Dat ar bow's a dangerous place," said Uncle
Jeems, quietly.
The children screamed. Potter and Pugh scram-
bled up and stood with the sea-weed and muddy
water up to their knees, spitting it out of their
mouths, wringing it out of their hair.
Take us aboard they shouted, as the Polly
sailed swiftly away. "We're drowning! Take us
aboard "


712


THE RACES AT SHARK.BAY.


[SEPTEMBER,






THE BUCK-SKIN BREECHES.


Dis yer ship's under full headway," said Uncle
Jeems. It's onpdssible to turn her. I reckon
yoh wont drown dis day."
They waded ashore and looked back, dripping
and soggy with mud, to see the crew in the boat
unpacking a basket full of cold chicken, biscuits,
and delicious fruit. The sun was warm overhead,
and the wind filled the sails, and the bright ripples
dashed against the sides of the boat.
"They '11 not come horie until night," said
Pugh. They 're having too good a time to think


of coming ashore before night. We may as well
go to the house."

Polly's father went down to meet them that even-
ing, for they did not come in until the moon was
shining. He carried Polly in his arms.
Uncle Jeems has given my girl a grand holi-
day he said. It was a pity those lads fell over-
board, Uncle !"
Yes, sah," said the old man, gravely. Dat
was a most onfortunate-accident "


"A STITCH IN '1ME SAVES NINE."







THE BUCK-SKIN BREECHES.

BY OLIVE A. WADSWORTH.


GRANDPAPAS all were once little boys-
Is not that a remarkable poser ?-
Devoted to toys,
Nonsense and noise,
Addicted to jack-stones and similar joys,
Crazy for races with Rover and Tozer,
Yet forced to sit still and say, Yes, sir," and
"No, sir; "
And the boys of all time, experience teaches,
Have their first new balls and their first new
breeches.
VOL. III.-48.


Seventeen Hundred and Seventy-Six!
That is the date-like a burr it sticks;
For grandpapa told it, many's the while,
As he spoke of the past with a sigh and a smile;
The wondrous year,
To memory dear,
Which of all his youth rose up most clear,
When his homespun suit was kicked to the
rear;
When his father took him o'er dale and down,
Three hundred miles to the Quaker town,


~~~~


1876.]1


713






THE BUCK-SKIN BREECHES.


And in bliss that humanity rarely reaches,
He donned his first buff buck-skin breeches.

Grandpapa had a most notable sire-
Brave, the Old General, and stout and true;
Prompted by honor and duteous ire,
He pledged himself with the noble few,-
Look in the list,
It cannot be missed,
He wrote it himself with his resolute fist;
Among the old Signers his name you will see,
Beginning with William and ending with "d ";
Strong to bear stress in Church and State,
He wanted his boy to be just as great.

" This lad of mine," said the fervid sire,
" I 'd like him filled with a patriot's fire "
So, to foster the feeling, what did he do
But buy him the suit of a patriot true;
Waistcoat of buff,
Surcoat of blue,
Queer-cornered hat of a somber hue,
Buckles of silver, shining and new,
Stockings of silk, to the knee each reaches,
And a sumptuous pair of buck-skin breeches,

There was the happiest boy in creation!
What cared he for the great Declaration,
The throes of a kingdom, the birth of a nation?
Matters of state,
Little or great,
Hearts of oak that compelled their fate,
Sacredest vows and death-drawn speeches,--
He 'd have sold them all for his buck-skin
breeches !

But, alas, for the bliss of the bounding heart !
A slip, and the cup and the lip must part;
A breath, and the sweet becomes a smart;
A flash, and the smile has grown a tear;
A space, and the boy is crying, "Oh dear!
The hour is near,
The breeches are here,
.But 1 can't get into them, that's quite clear!
I can't get in, nor anywhere near "




'--- --Y-

-y r^


" Can't! said the General, and frowning heard,
While the soldier's pride in his breast was
stirred.
" Never, again, sir, utter that word !
You're a free-born man,
That always can,
And must, and shall perfect his plan !
See that your aim be just and right,
Then cleave your way with a dauntless might !
Leave can't' to cowards that fear the fight !

" Come, Pomp and Caesar! he quickly cried,
" Catch hold here, both of you, one on a side;
The suit is right, but the boy is too wide;
Now firmly take it,
And thoroughly shake it,
And if it wont bend, why then we'll break it;
Many a pillow too plump for the case
Has to be shaken down into its place!"

So the fat little boy was put in at the top,
While the breeches were shaken, flippety-flop;
They tossed him up with a jump and a hop,
They settled him down with a sudden pop,
And with every jerk the deeper he'd drop,
Till, finally, .word was given to stop.
The boy was in,
As snug as a pin;
Pomp and Casar were all of a grin,
And the breeches fitted as tight as his.skin.

Ah, that was the spirit of Seventy-Six!
It would n't confess itself caught in a fix;
If there was a way, 't would find and .take it;
If there was n't a way, 't would speedily make
it;
When laws were vexing, or breeches straight
It rarely tarried to ruminate,
But couched its lance, and conquered Fate!
Yet happily, still
Its place we can fill,-
Can span the deep river, or breast the hill,
Or leap the abyss with a hero's thrill;
For a golden heart and an iron will
Are the lords of every earthly ill.


- ---- -
.... 2; '


714


[SEPTEMBER,








~576.l THE BOY EMIGRANTS. 715


THE BOY EMIGRANTS.

BY NOAH BROOKS:


CHAPTER XXIV.
WANDERING ONCE MORE.
WHEN the boys finally resolved to leave Crow-
bait diggings, they found it easier to remove than
they had thought. Little by little they had re-
duced their outfit. The cattle had been sold, their
horse was dead, the tent had been used up in
various ways, the box of their wagon made into
trunks and benches, and the running gear traded
off for flour to a man who had happened that way
early in the spring. Nevertheless, as they loaded
themselves with their mining tools and slender
stock of provisions, and made ready to turn their
backs' on what had been home to them, they could
not help feeling sad. Since they had left the States
no place had so long been their camp.
But their preparations for a tramp were soon
finished, and, one bright spring morning, they
marched up the creek. The faithful Pete trotted
along at Arty's heels, very much surprised, appar-
ently, at this sudden desertion of the old home.
Good-bye, old Boston said Arty, as they
turned a bend in the river which would shut the
log-cabin from view. "Good-bye we've had a
good time and some hard luck with you."
Good riddance to old Boston, I say," grumbled
Tom, who was staggering along under thd weight
of sundry pots and pans; I'm glad to get shut
of the place. Too much work, and too little gold."
Oh, shut your mouth and come ahead!"
scolded Hi. It appears like you all wanted to
make speeches on the old shebang." Neverthe-
less, Hi breathed a long sigh, and set his face with
a hard look, as if he was determined that he would
not regret leaving their first home in California.
They had heard of Table Mountain as being a
very rich mining region, and thither the little com-
pany of gold-seekers now bent their steps. Their
way was along the foot-hills, covered with verdure,
and knee-deep in wild flowers. The slopes were
splashed with great patches of blue, white, orange,
and yellow, showing where the wild larkspur, helio-
trope and poppy grew in prodigal luxuriance.
The pines and spruces were spicy with balsamic
odors, and the air was soft with the early summer
heat swept up from the Sacramento Valley.
Now and then they encountered a party of
miners-two, three, or half-a-dozen-laboriously
climbing the steep trails which led among the hills;
and, now and again, they stumbled on others who


were working at claims which they had taken up
by streams and in gulches. But, for the most part,
the young lads had the country to themselves, as
they tramped steadily onward to the north. It was
a vast solitude, almost untrodden by the foot of
man. The few prospectors who came and went
were soon lost in the well-nigh pathless wilderness.
There were no houses to be seen, no roads, and
even the trails which they crossed occasionally
seemed to have been traced out since the snow had
melted. Gray rabbits bounded out and in among
the ferns. Ground-squirrels set up their tails like
banners, and drifted on before the wayfarers, and
the parti-colored magpies screamed angrily from
the bushes, as if resenting this intrusion by human
strangers.
On the second day, climbing up a sharp ridge, late
in the afternoon, they beheld a little village on the
summit of the next divide. Between the ridge and
the divide was a wide ravine, through which ran a
pretty stream, and all along its banks the fresh
earth was tumbled and heaped. A few rough-
hewn beams and puncheons showed where men
had been working. But no miners were in sight.
Those fellows knock off work pretty early in
the afternoon," said Barney, as the party rested on
the ridge.
Good diggin's, and making' lots of money,
most likely," added Hi.
"From this distance their camp looks quite
homelike," said Mont, "though I suppose we should
find it mean enough when we get into it. But see
how well that double row of cabins is set against
the background of trees. If there was only a little
paint on some of those shanties, it would look quite
like a hamlet among the mountains of Vermont."
Only you never see that nasty red earth among
the Green Mountains," added Barnard, with dis-
gust, for the natural scenery of the country never
pleased him. It was foreign," he said.
The boys wondered what the settlement was,
and so, picking up their burdens, they scrambled
down the hill-side, waded through the tall grass in
the bottom, and crossed the creek on a rude little
bridge, which had evidently been made to enable
the miners to drag in their lumber from the woods
near by.
'Pears like as if these fellows hadn't been at
work here lately," said Hi, curiously scanning the
diggings. Water had settled in the holes where
the miners had been digging. The only tools to


1876.]


THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


715







THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


be seen were worthless and rust-covered, and a
broken sluice-box lay warping in the hot sun. It
looked as if the place had been left for a night, and
that the workers had never waked again to their
labors.
The boys climbed the divide and entered the
settlement. It was traversed by a single street or
alley, which ran through the middle. There were
eight cabins on one side, and seven on the other.
These were built of rough logs, hewn boards or
puncheons, and one or two were pieced out with
blue cloth, now faded and mildewed. Looking
down the street, the lads saw that every door was
open, and that most of these, swinging outward,
had an unhinged and neglected look. Here and
there, in the middle of the narrow street, was a
scrap of cast-off clothing, an old hat, a broken
tool, or a battered bit of tin-ware; and, thickly
strewing the ground, were dozens and dozens of
empty tins, in which meat, vegetables, or oysters
had been preserved.
* But nobody was in sight. Arty timidly peeped
into the first cabin on the left. Nobody there.
Tom blundered into the house on the right. No-
body there. So they went, almost holding their
breath, half-suspecting a surprise, down through
the little village. Every house was empty, silent
and tenantless. All save one. In the last house on
the left, where somebody had planted wild colum-
bines about the door-step, and a few pink flowers
were unfolding themselves, as if satisfied that the
old solitude of the place had returned, little Johnny
started back in affright. In the gloom of the inte-
rior, a pair of huge fiery eyes gleamed from one
corner.
Wha-what's that?" he stammered, and backed
toward the door. Arty came and looked over his
shoulder, and when the eyes of the boys had be-
come a little accustomed to the darkness, they
described a solitary cat sitting on a table strewn with
bones, broken pipes and bottles, the only surviving
inhabitant of this deserted village.
"Poor puss! said Arty, advancing toward
her. Puss set up her tail, cried Phit! phit!"
darted through the door, and disappeared in the
underbrush, pursued by Pete, who was apparently
delighted at seeing an old acquaintance. It was
the first cat he had met in California.
The boys stood still, with a sort of awe which
even the comical flight of the cat could not quite
dispel. They were in a deserted camp. A village
of the dead. Where were its inhabitants? Had
a plague carried them off? If so, who had buried
the last man ? The untenanted settlement bore
no sign to show who had lived here or where they
had gone. Some unmeaning letters, hacked in
the door-ways in moments of idleness, probably


gave the initials of some of the vanished settlers;
and a few rabbit-skins shriveling on the cabin-
walls, where they had been nailed by the hunters,
reminded the visitors that destructive men had
lived here. But that was all. The red sunlight
sifted down in an empty street, and partly glorified
the silent, shabby and forlorn mining camp.
"These chaps have heard of some rich diggings
somewhere. They have been easily discouraged
here. And they have packed up their traps in a
hurry and vamosed the ranch." This was Barney's
deliberate opinion, after he had surveyed the ground
with some care.
It was the most reasonable explanation possible.
Mont said that if the entire community of Swell-
head diggings had vanished in a single day, bound
for Gold Lake, as the boys knew, why should not a
bigger settlement leave in a hurry, and make a
rush for some other such folly ?
"Anyhow, here's a house apiece for to-night,"
added Mont, and a plenty left for storage. We
may as well camp here."
The young adventurers examined the habitations
with a critical air, but finally agreed to keep to-
gether in one of the largest of the cabins. Arty
declared that it was too poky to sleep alone in
any one of these deserted mansions. Somehow
the others were of the same opinion.
When they straggled ouq into the early daylight,
in answer to Mont's cheerful call, next morning,
Barney crossly said:
I thought you said this was a deserted village,
Mont ?"
"So I did."
'T is n't so, there's plenty of tenants."
I know what he means," said Arty, with a com-
ical look.
What then ? demanded Mont.
Fleas !"
Everybody laughed. They had been long
enough in California to find out that these were
tenants which never caught the gold fever, and
never vacated any premises whatever.
That day brought them, after frequent stoppages
for prospecting, to Table Mountain. It was a long
flat-topped eminence, almost perpendicular as to
its sides, and shelving rapidly down into a well-
wooded and broken country, cut up by small
streams. All along these streams were good dig-
gings, it was said, and the chances were promising
for gold-mining almost anywhere.
In a broad open space, through which a shallow
creek poured over bars of sand and gravel, was
Hoosiertown. Miners' cabins, tents and booths,
were dotted over the rocky interval, and all along
the creeks were men working like beavers. There
were sluices, long-toms, cradles, and all sorts of


716


[SEPTEMBER,








TH O ~LIRNS 1


contrivances for mining. At one place on the
stream, the miners had run a dam out into the cur-
rent from one bank, and then, curving it down
stream, had turned it back again to a point a little
below the side from which it had started. This
was a "Cwingdam." By making it tolerably tight,
the place thus inclosed was partially free of
water. Rude pumps were also put in to pump out
the water, and these were worked by means of
" flutter-wheels," which were moved by the flowing
stream outside of the dam very like the wheel of a
water-mill. In this wingdam men worked with
the water up to their middle. They dug up the
bottom of the stream-sand, gravel and stone. As
the water sunk away and the bottom was cleaned,
they found gold-gold in lumps and fine scales-
which had been washed there in the far-off times.
This was going on all along the stream, and
everywhere men were busy with all sorts of wooden
machines, rude and clumsy, to be sure, but good
enough for the present purpose.
The boys looked on with silent amazement.
This was a real mining settlement. Here were
more than one hundred men at work, and using
contrivances that had cost much labor and money.
They seemed to be determined to get every
scrap of gold, even though they had to wipe up
the river, scrape down the mountain, and root out
the forest. They were very much in earnest,
anxious, without comfort, and, for the most part,
haggard and ragged.
The borders of the once pleasant stream were
gashed with diggings, and disfigured with timber-
like mining apparatus. Even upon the hill-sides
the surface was dotted with heaps of red and yel-
low earth, where greedy prospectors had burrowed
in for gold. In the valley, on either side of the
stream, the cabins, with gaping seams open to
storm or wind, weltered in the sun; and the bar-
ren and comfortless place wore a homesick look to
the young gold-hunters.
Arty's quick eye detected a woman's frock hang-
ing on the thorny branches of a manzanita-bush
near a cabin which looked less untidy than the
others.
"Hooray there's a woman in this camp, any-
how," said Hi, with enthusiasm, when Arty had
pointed out the purple calico on the manzanita.
"Let's go and take a look at her."
Rather shamefacedly, as if afraid of womankind,
the lads straggled up to the cabin and dropped
their packs on the ground. A comely young wo-
man, brown in face and bare of arms, but wearing
a smart ribbon in her hair, came to the door with
a sharp, "Are you here again ?"
"Nance, with hoops on, as sure as I'm alive! "
exclaimed Hi; and his under jaw dropped clean


down to express his utter amazement. Nance
blushed to the roots of her hair, and said:
"Why, I thought it was that ornery feller,
Missouri Joe; he's a-sparkin' round here just con-
tinual."
Howdy? boys, howdy?" broke in the good Mrs.
Dobbs, who now came forward and looked over
her daughter's shoulder. "We're powerful glad




A




















NANCE COS TH DOO .I
-A
7

A-


-V
-- -- 2: ,b





iT- -










NANCE COMES TO THE DOOR.
to see ye. 'Pears like old time to see you, boys.
My old man war a-speaking about you no more 'n
yesterday."
Nance, recovering herself after her first surprise,
welcomed the lads, and the whole party, seated on
the door-step and about the cabin, exchanged all
the news they had to tell. The Dobbs family had
been here since the snow left, which was early, for
not much snow fell in these parts. They had dorre
well. They were doing well. Philo Dobbs had a
"pardner," and the two had a wingdam, from
which great things were expected. Yes, there
were plenty of chances here. Why, even tunnel-
ing had been tried, and from some of these holes


THE BOY EMLIGRANTS.


717






THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


men had got out gold, as Mrs. Dobbs expressed it,
" hand over fist."
Yes," she said, when Mont had remarked
Nance's rapid growth,-" yes, Nance has got to
be right peart of a gal. If she had a little more
age onto her, and did n't kick up her heels now
and then, she'd be quite a young woman."
La, ma, how you run on," pouted Nancy, the
warm blood glowing through her brown cheeks.
"You see we've put her into long gowns.
Clothes is powerful dear in these parts, to be sure;
but she's the only young lady in Hoosiertown,
and I tell my old man, says I, something must be
sacrificed to appearances, says I."
What with a hoop skirt, a long calico dress,
shoes on her feet, and a ribbon in her hair, Nance
was really quite a changed person. Arty and Tom
regarded her with an unwonted respect, and Hi
blushed every time he looked at her.
The boys set up their camp in a deserted cabin
which Philo Dobbs had once occupied, and which
he gave them full use of for the present. At last
they were in a considerable community again.
They felt almost as if they had got back into civili-
zation. At night, the notes of a violin and a flute
from one of the cabins, showed that the tired
miners were solacing themselves with music, and
sounds of talk and laughter floated on the evening
air. After all, "it was homelike to be among folks
again."
So said honest Hi, as the boys contentedly sat
about the door of their new home. Then, clasping
his hands over his knees, Hi looked absently at
Pete, who was winking and blinking at him, and
added: And she's the only young lady in this
yere town! "

CHAPTER XXV.
A SEPARATION AND A CALAMITY.
A GREAT variety of mining was carried on in the
vicinity of Hoosiertown. As we have seen, the
stream was lined with works for extracting gold in
several different ways. And, back from the val-
ley, in the low hills of the region, were some or
the operations known as dry diggings;" here the
earth was pierced to a great depth by perpendicular
holes, or shafts. Sinking through the dirt which
had no gold in it, the miner finally reached a layer
of earth far under the non-paying mass, where
coarse gold was found; then, striking this pay-
streak" underneath the ground, dug it out care-
fully and hoisted it up to the surface, where the gold
was washed out.
They burrowed in all directions as long as the
pay-streak led them on; and the holes thus made
were so much like the dens of coyotes, or little


prairie wolves, that this sort of mining was called
" coyoting." As the "coyoting" miner advanced
with his burrow far below the surface, crawling on
his hands and knees, and laboriously dragging his
basket of dirt to the shaft, where his partner hoisted
it up, he was nothing more or less than a burrower.
"Dirty work brings clean money," he thought; or
his mind went back to wife, mother, children, and
friends at home, as he dug in the gloom and silence
underground.
The earth thus undermined was propped. up as
the "coyoters" burrowed in all'directions, to keep
it from caving in upon them. Usually, the over-
hanging roof of the burrow was so tough that it
needed no support. But it often happened that
the mass settled and quietly shut down forever upon
the workers below.
Prospecting over the hills with Philo Dobbs one
day, Hi and Mont came upon a flat place where a
considerable patch of the ground had settled a foot
or two, leaving a ragged brown edge to show how
far the surface had dropped.
"This yere," said Dobbs, striding into the mid-
dle of the depression, is where the Redman boys
was caved in on last fall. That there hole is where
their shaft was."
"Caved in upon?" asked Mont, with a shiver.
" How many of them were there ? "
"There was the three Redman boys; they were
from Maine, they was; two brothers and a cousin.
Then there was a chap from Illinoy; name was
Eph Mullet. They were the chaps that was caved
on."
Eph Mullet!" exclaimed Morit. Why, Hi,
that was Bill Bunce's partner. Don't you remem-
ber ?"
Sure enough," said Philo Dobbs. I mind me
now that that Bunce had a pardner, but I did n't
know his name was Mullet. He and Bunce must
have fallen out, for he was surely in the Redman
party, and is buried under this very spot." And,
as if to give emphasis to his words, Dobbs rose on
his toes and came down heavily on his heels in the
middle of this strange grave.
And where was the man at the mouth of the
shaft all this time?" asked Hi, indignantly. "Why
did n't he run down to the camp at Hoosiertown
and give the alarm, and have these poor fellows
dug out?"
"Oh, he got off safe. But as for Hoosiertown,
that was n't built then. This was last fall, and
nothing had been done at Hoosiertown except a
little prospecting on the creek by some stragglers,
who had scratched about a bit and had lit out again
for better diggin's. Here you can see where the
survivin' pardner, as it were, started in to dig for
his mates. But, lor! he had to go down twenty


718






THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


odd feet. No wonder he gave it up as a bad job,
and put out by himself."
What a horrible story!" said Mont, looking at
the sunken tract of earth, which covered so much
sorrow.
"Yas, yas,' replied Dobbs, there 's any num-
ber of poor fellers huntin' for gold, and leaving'
their bones among these yere hills, in pits, ravines,
and gulches; and their folks at home a-wonderin'
why they don't never turn up. Turn up Why,
they'll never show a hand till the Day of Jedg-
ment." And Philo Dobbs thoughtfully picked up
a bit of pay-dirt, and rubbed it out in the palm of
his hand.
Coyote-mining had a gloomy outlook to the boys,
but Hi was very much taken with the hill-diggings
in which we saw some of the miners at work.
Some of these were nothing more than coyote
holes run horizontally into the side of a hill, until
the pay-dirt was reached. As these rude tunnels
were easily dug, and the gold so found was coarse,
the temptation to carry on that sort of mining was
great. Hi declared'in favor of hill-diggings.
But Mont and Barnard had found a place nearer
the camp, which promised better. Besides, it was
the only kind of mining which they knew anything
about, and they were afraid of any new experiments.
Hi was obstinate, and, moreover, he was tired, he
said, of the old way, which had not been profitable
enough. He wanted to gethismoney-lots ofit-
and leave. Miners were already going back to the
States with their "piles." Poor Hi thought he
must make his "pile" right away, and leave for
home.
Mont and Barnard shook their heads, sorrowfully.
Mont kindly argued the matter with their obstinate
comrade. But Barney indignantly blurted out,
"Why you wouldn't burst up the partnership,
would you ? "
"Yes," said Hi, doggedly. I'll go into the
hill-diggin's myself, if you don't. That is, Tom
and I."
"Tom and I, indeed!" broke .in that young
person. I'd like to know what makes you think
I 'd go along with you. I'm goin' to stay with the
rest of the crowd. If you want to git, git !"
"See yere, youngster," said Hiram, red with
anger," you are to go where I go. I'm yer garden;
if you don't go with me, where's yer pardner ?
Who 'll ye work with ? The chances are all taken."
"I allow I'll work for myself," said the boy,
sullenly, but somewhat in doubt.
We're very sorry to have you think of going,"
said Mont, "but if you must go, Tom may as well
go with you. Is n't that so, boys?"
The rest of the party took this view of the case,
and, after much consultation, it was agreed that Hi


should draw out of the partnership, take his and
Tom's share of the profits, and strike out for him-
self. The boys were all sorry over this first break
in their company.
They sat uneasily about their cabin, in an em-
barrassed way, as if there was to be a ceremony of
some sort which they dreaded to meet.
Hang it all!" said Hi, with a sheepish look.
"I allow it is powerful mean for me to quit and go
off by myself. D'ye s'pose it'll pay, after all ?"
"You're the best judge of that," said Barney,
coldly. "It's your own proposition."
"No, no," broke in Arty, eagerly, and leaning
over the table toward Hi; share and share alike
is always better than going it alone, you know. It's
more sociable, anyhow."
Hi's eyes softened a little as he looked in the
bright face of the lad; but just then his hand struck
the heavy canvas pouch in which his and Tom's
portion of the company's savings had been put.
He drew a long, hard breath, and said, I allow
I'll try the hill-diggin's."
At Arty's suggestion, Hi and Tom decided to
mess with the boys for the present. The spot which
Hi had fixed upon for his trial at tunneling was not
so far from the cabin that he could not come back
at night, get his supper, and sleep.
Hi was secretly glad to make this arrangement.
He would be willing to endure some additional
fatigue rather than lodge elsewhere than with his
old comrades. Besides, he craftily argued with
himself, it would be more economical.
Hi took possession of a hole, or tunnel, which
somebody had begun to drive into a hill just above
Table Mountain to the north. Near this were two
or three good claims in which men were busily at
work and taking out gold. Hi's tunnel had been
begun by two or three men from Poverty Hill, the
deserted village on the divide. When the rush
from Poverty Hill to Rattlesnake Bar was made
early in the spring, said a friendly Hoosiertown set-
tler, these miners had tried their luck at river mining
on Hoosier Creek. A week's work disgusted them,
when they essayed hill diggings; put in a few feet
of tunneling, and then were off to Trinity River,
away up in the northern part of the State.
Hi now entered into their labors, accompanied
with much grumbling by Tom. As for Barnard,
Mont, Arthur and Johnny, after prospecting about
the flat near Hoosiertown, they took up and
worked in a claim, not much unlike that which they
had held at Crowbait. They met with fair success
at once, and, within a week, they ".cleaned up"
eight hundred dollars. This was encouraging. Hi,
whose first question when, weary and fagged, he
reached the cabin at night was always, "What luck
to-day, boys?" heard the good news with ill-con-


719


1876.]






THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


cealed chagrin, though he tried hard to rejoice
heartily in the good fortune of his late comrades.
Nevertheless, Hi soon struck the pay streak and
begun to bring home every night a goodly harvest
from his day's work. Three ounces, four ounces,
five ounces, and even ten ounces, did he turn out
of his buckskin bag, at the end of some days of
labor. He spread the golden grains on the surface
of their rude table, caressing the heap with real
joy. Sixteen dollars to the ounce was the rate of
reckoning gold in those days, and at this rate, Hi
had done well, for he had only just begun to work
into the pay dirt. He was very much elated by
his good luck, and if everybody else had not been
too busy with .his own concerns to bother about
those of others, he would have had the reputation
of being a highly successful miner. As it was, his
wealth was chiefly in the future.
The whole company, meanwhile, got on very
harmoniously in their cabin. They all went to
work in the morning, taking their ready-cooked
dinner with them. At night they met around their
supper, told over the events of the day, and specu-
lated on the possibilities of to-morrow. It was a
simple sort of life. They enjoyed it, and Nance,
commonly known in the camp as "Dobbs's gal,"
was kind enough to receive a call from them once
in a while, or drop in and give Arthur and Johnny
a hint about cooking bacon and bread, which arti-
cles yet remained the staple of their fare.
Hi regarded Nance with bashful aversion. She
made him blush in spite of himself; and once,
when she reproved him for using slang, he grew
very angry and said she was "putting on airs."
It must be confessed that the girl grew womanly,
sedate and almost dignified. She never seemed to
forget that she was the only young lady in the
camp."
"Cut for home, boys," said Barney, cheerily, one
afternoon. "The sun is down behind the lone
pine, and its time you were getting supper ready."
Arty and Johnny very gladly dropped their tools
and climbed the hill which lay between the claim
and Hoosiertown. The sun was sinking low, and
as the lads passed over the brow of the hill and
began to descend the slope on the other side, they
could see the broken, perpendicular walls of Table
Mountain gilded with yellow light.
The edge of the mountain nearest them was low
in places, with benches or ledges running along just
above the road which wound through the valley at
the foot of the mountain. As the hurrying boys
paused for an instant and looked off over the land-
scape, bathed in the setting sun, Arty saw the fig-
ure of a man stooping and running along the pre-
cipitous edge of the opposite cliff, and occasionally
stopping as if to watch something moving along the


road beneath, which was not in sight from where the
boy stood on the distant hill. Like a bird of prey,
the man swiftly ran and watched, then stooped and
ran, and watched again. Now and then he made
a motion as if to drop something from his hand
into the road beneath his feet. Then he seemed
to think better of it, and he ran on, watching and
waiting.
Curious critter that," muttered Arty.
Pshaw it looks like Bill Bunce," answered
Johnny, with a little start of disgust. "Let's run,"
and with that he trotted toward home as fast as his
tired legs could carry him.
Just then the strange figure across the valley,
now near the angle which Table Mountain makes
where the valley opens out toward Hoosiertown,
let fall something which seemed to be a heavy
stone. Then he quickly pitched down another and
another. Then he jumped over the edge of the
cliff and scrambled down out of sight toward the
road below.
Queer boy Johnny is; always thinking of Bill
Bunce So said Arty to himself, as he bounded
along light-heartedly and overtook his comrade.
SWhen they reached the cabin, Tom was there
before them and was already chopping the fire-wood
for their evening cooking.
Yes," he said, Hi's always higgling and hag-
gling.. He's afraid to leave the leastest speck of
gold anywhere about that confounded old tunnel
overnight. There 's no thieves about. Honest
country, I say. But Hi, he's dreffle suspicious.
Sly folks-always is."
Arty remonstrated with Tom for holding such a
mean opinion of his brother, and Barney anid Mont,
who soon came over the hill, rebuked the lad for
not staying with Hi to help him clear up his day's
work.
"Hi is a good brother, anyhow," said Barnard,
heartily, as he blew the water off his red face, and
began to polish it with a coarse towel. "And, my
little man, it stands you in hand to hold up your
end of the yoke, as Arty says. Still, Hi is late to-
night."
Just then, four or five red-shirted miners, bear-
ing some strange burden, came out from the mouth
of the valley above and made straight for the cabin
where our boys were making ready for supper.
They seemed to be carrying a wounded man;
and as they drew nearer, the tender-hearted Barney
* burst out with, My grief! its poor old Hi!"
And so it was. The miners, coming home from
work, had encountered a figure sitting up in the
dust and feebly trying to rise. There was a ghastly
wound on the top of his head. His hair was clot-
ted, and dark red stains were on his face. Groping
about in: the dazzling light of the sun, then level


720


[SEPTEMBER,







THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


with the valley, Hi, for the miners recognized Hi steed in the camp, a fiery mustang, rode to
Fender, had murmured something indistinctly and Smith's Bar, four miles away, and brought back
had become unconscious, the doctor.
The poor fellow was laid upon his bunk. Mont Meanwhile, Mont and Arthur bathed poor Hi's
said at once, We must have a doctor." head, cleansed his face, and tried to relieve his suf-


-'.--.-'- .
4%^-
I:=^ g~


is.

,-' 2..


A .k.


THE BOYS WATCH THE STRANGE FIGURE.


Thar's nary doctor round yere," said one of
the miners, roughly but kindly. Yer pard 's
hurt powerful bad. He may as well pass in his
checks."
"Perhaps doctorin' will do him no good. But
there's a young chap down to Smith's Bar who
does something in that line," said another.
It seemed an age to the sorrowful, anxious group
in the cabin while Barney, mounted on the only


ferings. He only groaned and made no sign of
intelligence.
STom, heavy-hearted and remorseful, went on
with the cooking of supper, in an absent-minded
way. The men who had brought Hi home, said,
" Just send word over to yon blue tent, if there's
anything we can do for- you-whisky, camphire,
watchers, or anything the like of that." Then they
went their way.


721


1876.]


-~-C~5

a:


~--- ;






THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


CHAPTER XXVI.
A STRANGE CASE.
MONT scrutinized with some sharpness and
anxiety the doctor from Smith's Bar. He was a
tall, lithe, sinewy young fellow, with a long, full
beard, like a tangle of flax, a brown face, and cold
gray eyes. He wore a slouch hat and a blue flan-
nel shirt; his trousers were tucked into his boots,
and a belt at his waist carried a little wallet, where
less peaceable people usually wore a pistol.
Arty was immediately disgusted with the cold,
hard way with which the young doctor asked a few
questions about the accident, and with the business-
like and unsympathetic manner with which he
studied the wounds of the unconscious Hi, who
still lay breathing heavily and unable to speak.
A queer looking doctor, I must say," muttered
Mont to himself, very much dissatisfied with his
general appearance. And his thoughts went back
to the white-haired, dignified physician of his New
England home, a man whose presence seemed to
shed a balm of healing wherever he went. But
when Dr. Carson lifted Hi's wounded head, dressed
the poor mangled scalp with light swiftness, and
cleansed, with all of a woman's skillfulness of touch,
the parts that the boys had not dared to handle,
Mont changed his mind, and Barney and Arty
looked on with grateful admiration.
I will stay with you until he recovers con-
sciousness," said the doctor. He will rally pres-
ently."
It was now late into the night, but nobody cared
to sleep until they knew whether life or death was
before their comrade. Dr. Carson had spoken
cheerily, but he had given no opinion; none had
been asked, and the boys dropped wearily about,
while the doctor, with his chin resting on his hand,
sat steadfastly and thoughtfully regarding Hi.
Presently the young fellow stirred out of his long
trance, and, moving his right hand, heavily whis-
pered : The other pocket the other pocket "
The doctor started forward to catch the words,
when Hi, calmly opening his eyes, looked up at
him with surprise and said, Well, what of it? "
Dr. Carson smiled and said, pleasantly : "So it
was the other pocket, was it ? "
Hi looked at him with a queer, puzzled air, and
feebly replied: I don't know about that. Was I
hurt much ?"
Not much to speak of, my man. But I
wouldn't talk about it now. In the morning you
can tell us all about it."
But Hi persisted. I always allowed that there
tunnel would cave. I meant to have timbered
it to-morrow or next day." And here Hi painfully
raised his hand to his head, shuddered, and, as if


shocked at the discovery of his wounds, relapsed
into unconsciousness again.
The gray dawn was struggling into the cabin,
when Arty, sick and faint with waiting and watch-
ing, awoke from an uneasy sleep on the floor. The
young doctor still sat, alert and vigilant, by the side
of Hi's bunk; Mont was near at hand with all his
usual freshness and helpfulness. Barney slept with
his head leaning forward on the table; while Tom
and Johnny were yet sound asleep in their own
places.
Hi had asked for water once or twice during the
night, but beyond that he had made no sign of
coming back to life. So they sat and watched and
waited. The bright morning sun rose up, fresh
and clear, over Table Mountain, flooding the val-
ley with its redness. Sounds of early labor came
from the scattered cabins in the flat. The creak-
ing of the flutter-wheels which had kept on through
the night was now confused with other noises, as
the miners began another day's work. Smoke
rose from the rude chimneys of Hoosiertown;
faint odors of fi ii r- ni :.a t floated on the tranquil air,
and two or three red-shirted citizens, groping their
way out into the light, stretched themselves heavily
and yawned with a tremendous yawn, the echoes
of which reached Arty where he sat against the
wall of the cabin looking out, sad-eyed and de-
jected, through the open door.
Mrs. Dobbs, who had been early by the sick
man's side the night before, now put her head in
at the door and whispered: "How is he by this
time ?"
The doctor said: He's looking better."
Then Hi suddenly awoke and said: You allow
it's a pretty bad hurt, do you, mister ?"
"Yes," said the doctor, "but you will come out
all right. Don't worry about it. You are feeling
pretty well now ?"
Right peart, 'cept about the head. My head
is as light as a feather. Oh, yes, I remember it all
now. The tunnel caved in on me. When I felt
the rock coming down on me, and heard 'em pat-
terin' on my head and shoulders, I made for the
mouth of the tunnel. I just remember how the
sun blazed into my eyes when I staggered out on
the side hill. It seemed as if the world was all
afire, coming' out of that there dark hole and facin'
the glare of the sun." *
"Well, well, I wouldn't go on no more about
it now, Hi," said Mrs. Dobbs. "The doctor says
you must be kept quiet."
But, though Dr. Carson urged him to keep still,
Hi. continued: "I allow I must have put for home.
I saw the road. It was all red dust, and the sun
poured down over it. But I disremember how I
got over it. It appears like I was carried."


722


[SEPTEMBER,







THE BOY EMIGRANTS.


Yes," said Mont, "the fellows over to the blue
tent were coming up from their claim. They saw
you sitting in the road, wounded, and they brought
you home."
Good fellows, those blue tent chaps. Where-
abouts was I then ?"
"Just at the angle of the road, where it breaks
around the Mountain."
What! away down there! exclaimed Hi.
" Why, I must have staggered along right smart.


DR. CARSON.

Certainly I disremember anything that happened
after I got out into the sun-light."
The doctor here put in his emphatic protest
against Hi's having any more talk. So the
wounded man lay quite still, muttering to himself:
"Cur'ous cur'ous I "
Although Hoosiertown was a busy place, the
good-hearted miners found time to call at the cabin
and inquire how Hi was getting on, and to bring
little gifts to the invalid.
In a day or two he grew weaker and more infirm
in his mind,. and sometimes he seemed wandering
and "luny," as Nance expressed it. The girl was
very helpful to the distressed family, but Arty was
quite out of patience with her shyness. She was


as bright and impertinent as ever, at times; but
usually she seemed so dignified and reserved that
Arty quite agreed with Tom, who pronounced her
"stuck up."
Dr. Carson came and went every day, and looked
on Hi's frequent lapses of mind with some anxiety.
On one of these occasions, Hi, as if struggling
with some imaginary foe, painfully muttered:
"Don't strike again. Don't! don't! It's in the
other pocket! "
Oh, pshaw i said Tom, "he's always saying
that when he has those spells."
"Always saying that ?" asked the doctor, sharply.
He had been watching Hiram; but he could make
nothing satisfactory out of the case.
Yes," replied Tom, two or three times, when
he has had these wandering spells, he talks like
that. But he talks all sorts of ridiculous things.
Drivin' cattle, and so on."
Dr. Carson was puzzled. When Hi grew better,
he asked him all about the accident. Hi was very
clear in his story. He perfectly remembered the
caving in of the tunnel. He felt the rocks fall on
his head and shoulders; but most completely he
recalled to mind how the bright sunshine dazzled
his eyes when he came out to the mouth of the
tunnel, and how red the dusty road under the
bluff looked, as he caught a glimpse of it and fell.
It was a clear case to him. I allow I know what
happened," he said, with some impatience.
Hiram murmured and fretted over this loss of
time. It was just his luck," he said, to be laid
up when he was on the edge of a good streak of
dirt." But he consoled himself with the reflection
that his last day's work was a good one.
Must have had ten or twelve ounces," he
chuckled. "By the way, where is that there
bag?"
Nobody had seen it. Hi had been in the habit
of bringing home the result of his day's work in a
buckskin bag, which had been a company affair.
Arty had printed "Bostons" on it with pen and
ink; and a scorched mark near the mouth of it
gave it another feature. But that particular bag
was nowhere to be found. Nobody had seen it
since the day when Hi put it in his pocket, and
had gone to work on that unfortunate day. Hi
was sure that he had his gold in it when he left the
tunnel. He had crammed it into the left-hand
pocket of his jacket, for he was just ready to leave
Sthe tunnel when the crash came. But it was not
in the garments which he wore on that day.
I must have dropped it when I staggered down
the hill. Some of you boys go look for it, wont
you ? You'll find it in the grass along the trail,
may be, or at the mouth of the tunnel."
Tom and Johnny darted off to look. They


x876.i


723







MY SHIP ON THE OCEAN.


were gone an hour or two, but found no pouch.
Hi fretted and worried.
Did you go into the tunnel ?" he demanded.
Of course not," replied Tom, sharply. "We
just looked in a little ways. You must have dropped
it on the trail and somebody picked it up."
"Oh, you shiftless !" scolded Hi. I'll look
myself as soon as I get out."
But the poor fellow did not get out as soon as he
expected. He recovered slowly, and his spells of
mental wandering returned frequently, to the great
distress of his comrades.
They made no account of his queer mutterings.
He was continually talking in a vague way, and
about all sorts of things, when his mind was thus
unsettled. He seemed to be in a kind of night-
mare at such times. He raved incessantly about
gold. Gold was the burden (o' i: :,!.1, .1d if he
was not picking it up in his dreams, he was defend-
ing his treasure against the assaults of imaginary
robbers, with .whom he often pleaded: "Don't
strike me again! It's in the other pocket !"
Dr. Carson questioned Hi about his accident,
when he was in full possession of senses. He
weighed his words and .:; ,ll.1 watched him
while he was awake or asleep, and when he was


wandering in his mind. There was no clue to his
wild talk. But the doctor was sure that the wounds
on Hi's head were not made by a caving wall.
One day, having ascertained the shortest way to
the tunnel, Dr. Carson rode up to that long-neg-
lected work. Dismounting, he lighted a candle,
which he found laid in a rift of rock, just where Hi
had left it, and stepped carefully into the tunnel. It
had been run in about twenty feet. Groping along
almost on his knees, he soon reached the face wall
at the end where Hi's pick and shovel lay as he
left them, weeks ago. The roof was as solid and
firm as ever. The few rough props put in to sup-
port it were all there. There had been no cave.
Amazed, yet partly relieved, the doctor felt his
way back to the light, blew out his taper, and sat
down to think. There was the flood of sunlight,
just as Hi saw it; and the red road, which met
his eye as he staggered out, still wound down to
the camp.
When Dr. Carson returned and gravely said there
was no cave in the tunnel, everybody echoed, "No
cave "
Hi said: I'll have to take your word for it,
Doctor. But I'11 give you my word that that there
tunnel did cave and bust my crust, so now "


(To be continued.)


MY SHIP ON THE


OCEAN.


BY BESSIE HILT,.


YES, somewhere far off on the ocean,
A lover is sailing to me-
A beautiful lover-Nurse found him
One night in my cup after tea.


I laughed when she said it-who would n't ?
Yet often a thought comes to me
Of the ship that is bringing my lovir,-
My lover across the blue sea.


Whenever the cruel wind whistles,
I think of that ship on the sea,
And tremble with terror lest something
May happen quite dreadful to me.


724


[SEPTEMBER,







MY SHIP ON THE OCEAN.


And then, when the moon rises softly,
I -hardly can sleep in my glee,
For I know that its beautiful splendor
Is lighting my lover to me.

But oh, if he sozudd come Why, Nursey,
I 'd hide like a mouse. Deary me,
What nonsense it is But you should n't
Be finding such things in my tea.


x876.]


725







A CHILDREN S PARTY.



A CHILDREN'S PARTY.


BY L. W. J.


r-,


O 1 0 not all children like parties?
Some enjoy the games, some the
-'* dancing, and some, sad to say,
--- 1 only the eating. At least, a fat
S boy was heard to remark, the
S. other day, that parties were "no
-'~ '--', good, except for the supper."
-,-.i And two little girls, who were
playing at having a party last
.' year, said that all the party
S'.. they could get was three cents'
worth of gum-drops."
All out-doors is the best place
for a party, and a summer's day is the time, when
children can have grand games of hide-and-seek
among the bushes, with no late hours or unwhole-
some food to give them headaches, no silk dresses to
spoil, or jewelry to lose in the grass. How pretty
theirwhite dresses and bright sashes look in sunshine
and shadow, how the curls and braids toss about,
how gayly their shrieks and shouts ring through
the country stillness Some are playing at croquet,.
some at "tag" or "kick-stick," some wander off
to pick wild flowers, some are resting quite out of
breath-all are happy. Then, after a good play,
how refreshing are the strawberries and ice-cream
that are spread upon the table under the elms! A
children's party 'is a pretty sight at all times, but
far more so out-of-doors. Even in the city, a
party is far better in the day-time, and a luncheon
party on Saturday is delightful; don't you think
so?
But you shall hear of a better one still, such an
one as few of you have ever seen, perhaps. On
one of the loveliest days of last June, I was invited
to be present at a party given by a lady in memory of
some one whom she loved, who was dead. Every
year, on the day of his death, she invited about fifty of
the poorest children of New York, from one of the
schools of the Children's Aid Society, to her country
place, to enjoy themselves in the fresh air and the
free sunshine.
Poor little things they came in the best clothes
they had or could borrow, and it was touching to
see the girls' attempts at finery. Most of them
were clean and neat, some had hardly clothes
to cover them, but all wore a faded ribbon or cravat,
a crumpled artificial flower, or a shabby feather-
all made some endeavor to dress for the occasion.
As soon is the little procession, headed by their
teacher, entered the gate, they gave themselves up


to the wildest enjoyment; .they rolled and turned
somersaults on the grass, they shouted, they
rushed to the scupp," as they called the swing,
or to the croquet ground. They filled their hands
with daisies, with buttercups, and all sorts of weeds;
they blew the dandelion balls, and made chains of
the stems; but not one bit of mischief did they do,
nor did they meddle with the flower-beds or the
green fruit.
One poor boy, who had been for a while in the
penitentiary for some petty theft, lay half the day
at the foot of a big tulip-tree, full of blossoms, look-
ing up into the sky. What do you suppose he was
thinking of? These children played at wild games
of their own, with little refrains and rhymes of the
street, such as jou probably never heard. Even
their "counting out" was different from yours.
They wandered about, never weary of looking at
-,r ti;, for many of them had never been in
the country before, and all was new and wonderful
to them.
The teacher said that in the cars they had been
delighted with a sight quite strange to them,-a field
of growing grain, with the wind rippling over it in
lovely waves,-and that every green thing, such as
turnips, cabbages, and other vegetables in the
gardens, seemed to interest them, and they wanted
to know their names. Some colts, standing with
their mothers in a field, seemed wonderful to them.
But the things that pleased them most were the
toads. "There's a frog! there's a frog!" they
cried. "No; it's a hop-tud Catch him! catch
him!" And they were never tired of chasing the
odd little speckled fellows, ail ii in. ; to keep them
in their pockets.
One child said to my friend: "Mis' Blank, does
all this grove belong to you?" and others asked
where they could find a candy-stall-taking the
place for a picnic grove, their only idea of the
country.
After awhile they all stood in a ring and sung
some very pretty hymns, about "The sweet story
of old," which you have often heard, and The land
bright and fair," that must have seemed a more
possible dream to them on this lovely June day
than when they wandered among the hot, dirty
streets of the city.
By and by a table was spread for them under the
tall trees, whose boughs formed a dense shade, and
they had just as much as theywanted of strawberries,
ice-cream, sandwiches, cookies, and lemonade.


726


[SEPTE~BKER







1876.1 A CHILDREN'S PARTY. 727


One poor little girl had to go away alone, and year Think of that, all you happy children who
before the feast, because if she were not at her read the ST. NICHOLAS, who are often taken to
newspaper stand at a certain hour she would lose parties and picnics, and entertainments of min-
her place, and, perhaps, be beaten. She.could not strels and magicians and ventriloquists, and who
even have one whole holiday. Another child had have little journeys and excursions every summer !
not been able to come at all, because her mother As the party went out of the gate, one boy called
had'sold her only dress for drink! out, "Good-bye, Mis' Blank! good-bye, trees !
At last the time came when they all had to go. good-bye, old 'scupp i'" And they all chorused,
Good-bye, trees Good-bye, Mis'
SBlank and gave a shrill cheer.
Now are there not some children who
would be glad to have such little folks as
these have a good time rather oftener?
Would it not be nice if they could have
several such feasts as this in the year,
instead of only one; if their hard lives,
-i e in which there is so little pleasure, and
often suffering frbm cold and hunger,
might be oftener cheered in this way ?
Mrs. Blank told me that the whole
-I festival cost her but fifty cents for each
child, including their fares, their lunch-
eon, and all their expenses. How cheap
.I !a way of giving so much delight! Many
families who are well off, and living out-
Sof-town, could afford such an outlay once
a year, or several families could club
together, and, with very little money
and very little trouble, give a great deal
of happiness. People must give up one
day to it, and get a little tired, that
is all.
It is not what we give, but how we
give, that counts. We should all try to
leave the world better than we found it,
if it is only by planting a tree. When
we give pennies to street-beggars, we do
more harm than good. But if we share
with others our pretty gardens, our sweet
air, our green trees, we do real good to
them and to ourselves.
You remember Lowell says it is
."Not that which we give, but that which we share,
For the gift without the giver is bare."

SOME WANDER I WILD LOWE. And Christ tells us that when we have
a feast we need not invite our rich neigh-
They formed their little procession, and bade good- bors, who may ask us in return. But thou, when
bye, very -..1ii;i,-1.. Almost every one said, thou makest a feast, call thither the poor, the
"May n't we come again next year?" maimed, the lame, and the blind, and thou shalt
My friend told me that they began to count the be blessed."
time for the next party almost immediately, and Not that we should never ask the rich. Many of
that one of them said to her once: Mis' Blank, them are poor in some way-are lonely, or weary,
it's only Aine months and three days before we are or ignorant, or tasteless-and might be better for
going to your house." sharing with us, at least our good-will, if we have
Think of that! This was the only day of pleas- nothing more. Rich people do not always know
ure, perhaps, that those children had in a whole how to enjoy simple things, and may learn this


I






THE BUMBLE-BEE.


[SEPTEMBER,


secret from a poorer neighbor, and be happier for enjoy in the country; who never see a bird except
it always. It is something only to know how much in a cage, or hear the pine-boughs murmuring, or
better everything tastes out-of-doors. "Fine folk the running of water; who never chase butterflies,
oft scorn shoals o' blessin'," says a Scotch song. or know the meaning of that best of things, "a


*-a .:. -,." "-

-^^^B^'y-Tr.=^-^^


'SOME COLTS, STANDING WITHJTHEIR MOTHERS IN A FIELD." [PAGE 726.]


uH, 3 E


728


, .- .. -..g-.R


I~ .Ii -~..,l.i-
---
;=~ "
:L..1


But do not forget the poor children, many of
them born blind, with the blindness of ignorance;
whose lives are empty of all the pleasant things we


long summer's day." Perhaps you may have the
power, during this very September, to help some
of them to keep one happy holiday with you.


THE BUMBLE-BEE.

THE bumble-bee, the bumble-bee,
He flew to the top of the tulip-tree;
He flew to the top, but he could not stop,
For he had to get home to his early tea.

The bumble-bee, the bumble-bee,
He flew away from the tulip-tree;
But he made a mistake, and flew into the lake,
And he never got home to his early tea.








1876.1 ROSY. 729


ROSY.


BY MARY L. B. BRANCH.


- HE very color I wanted,
Sand just the kind I want-
S ed!" said Louis, as he.
stood on the steps survey-
ing his new velocipede. "Fire-
r.-i. and three wheels; you can't
[ip over on three wheels, you
kn l ."


'- ** / could," said his brother
1 B-rr.L, confidently.
Oh, well, you! That's an-
other thing. Here, Bert, help me buckle on my
sword, and give me my soldier-cap. I'm a cavalry
officer to-day, and I shall charge up and down the
street exactly twenty times before I go to school."
Kitty and Willy boy watched from the window,
and Bcrtie, book-strap in hand, waited on the steps,
to see Louis' grand charge.
"Hurrah! hurrah he exclaimed, the first time
he dashed by. On, boys, and at them! Hurrah!"
A second and a third time he went swiftly and
safely the whole length of the sidewalk, but the
fourth time, just as he was shouting Hurrah! "
with a backward glance at Bertie, some one suddenly
turned the corner ahead. There was a cry, a col-
lision, and the next instant Louis and his velocipede
lay flat on the ground, while a little girl of about
ten sat near by, holding her ankle and crying bit-
terly.
Louis was on his feet in a moment, very sorry
and very much ashamed; Kittie and Bertie flew to
help the little girl, but could not reach her so soon
as did a strong, broad-shouldered man who had
been only a few steps behind her when she fell.
Poor little lass !" he said, gathering her up in
his arms. "Don't cry, for there's an orange in my
pocket."
My ankle hurts me," sobbed the child.
"I'm very, very sorry," said Louis, ruefully.
"Please bring her into our house, sir, and my
mother will put on something to cure her ankle
right away."
Oh, do please bring her in," joined in Bertie
and Kitty, full of anxiety, and just then mamma her-
self appeared at the door, having been summoned
in great haste by Willy boy. That decided it, for
no one ever could resist mamma, and as soon as they
were all in the house, she took the stranger child
tenderly in her lap, and drew off the shoe from the
little aching foot.
"There, move your foot now, dearie," she said,


" That's right, move it again. It is n't sprained-
only bruised a little. Run, Kitty, and bring my
arnica bottle."
The little foot was bathed, the tears were dried,
and then they all began to notice what blue eyes, *
and what pretty golden hair the stranger had.
"Is she your little girl? asked Mrs. Neal of the
broad-shouldered man.
"I guess I shall have to claim her," he said,
good-naturedly, "though I never set eyes on her
till yesterday.. Her name's Rosy. She's the
daughter of an old messmate of mine who died off
the Ivory Coast, and I promised him I'd keep a
lookout for her. So when the 'Laughing Sally'
dropped anchor yesterday, I made for head-quarters
straight off. We thought we'd have a walk this
morning, but the little craft kept sailing ahead, and
first thing I knew, she ran among breakers."
At this point Kitty, who had disappeared for a
moment, returned with a rather dingy-looking little
pie in her hands, which she insisted on giving to
Rosy.
I made it myself," she said, radiantly. Brid-
get let me. I was saving it for my dolls, but now
I would rather give it to you."
Rosy received it in the same spirit in which it
was given, and regarded it with great admiration.
Meanwhile Louis and Bertie reluctantly gathered
up their books and started for school, while Mrs.
Neal pursued her conversation with the kind-hearted
sailor. She found he had neither kith nor kin in
the world, and had decided to adopt Rosy as his
own little girl. He had found her not quite happy
in the rough boarding-house which was all her
home, and what do you think he was going to do
about it? Kitty fairly lost her breath when she
heard him say:
"I shall take her along next voyage; she'll be
happier aboard the 'Laughing Sally.'"
Mrs. Neal involuntarily pressed the little waif
closer, thinking of her own Kitty as she did so.
What would become of a little, motherless ten-
year-old girl, on a three years' whaling voyage?
Do you want to go, dear? she asked.
"Oh, yes," said Rosy, brightly. "Papa was
going to take me next voyage himself; he wrote
me a letter that said so, after mamma died. Papa
always lived on the sea, and it will seem nearer to
him if I live there too."
Mrs. Neal considered. It comes so natural to
us to shelter our children, to want them safely


VOL. 11.-49.


1876.]


ROSY.


729


/






[SEPTEMBER,


housed and guarded at every point. And the sea
seemed to her so strong and terrible. But then
her family had always been lands-people. She re-
called a verse of Rossetti's:
"Three little children
On the wide, wide sea,-
Motherless children,-
Safe as safe can be
With guardian angels."
"The captain's wife promised Uncle Ben she'd


"Let Rosy stay here to-day," said Mrs. Neal
to Uncle Ben. "Her ankle will pain her a little,
and she should let it rest. Let her remain to-day
and to-night with Kitty, and to-morrow you may
come for her again."
"Well, ma'am, I will," said the good-natured
sailor, glad to leave the little lass in so snug a
harbor. And he went, but not before he took the
orange out of his pocket.
Was n't that a great day for Rosy I To sit in an


S 'f ill, "




JI" I I I I ,
"

'i i .' ,

I ," I ..
. ..I :'. ,. ,1 1 ,i,; i; 'i !




7-,' '
,','"-'-,~ ~ ~ ,- W!Il gd,"
,,-,),.-=.;=._.:N L a:.


SSHE TOOK THE STRANGER CHILD
'SH-ET-OOK- THE 5T5ANRCHL


TENDERLY IN HER LAP."


take care of me," continued Rosy, "and I'm going easy-chair in Kitty's room, and be made much of;
to have a little hammock put up for me down in to have picture-books heaped around her, and toys,
her cabin and bits of fancy-work; to have white grapes brought
"Oh, mamma, I wish I could go too!" ex- to her on a lovely china plate; and for dinner such
claimed Kitty. delicious chicken pie. Then not only did she have


9


i' i






''?" '.
, .
'' dl I, nllt


730


ROSY.


,r






1876.]


ROSY.


Kitty for company, but all Kitty's dolls sat in order
before her, dressed in their best. She said she
wished her own dolly was there; and when Kitty
inquired and found that the absent dolly had only
one dress, what a hunting there was through
mamma's piece-bags, until silk and lace had been
found for Rosy to take home, to make a party-
costume for her, fully equal to that worn by Kitty's
own Florietta.
I like dolls better than any other playthings,"
said Rosy, because they seem just like folks. I
should be real lonesome without mine."
So the two little girls played and talked all day
long together, and liked each other better and
better.
"If you were not going to sea, we could be
friends all the time," said Kitty, regretfully.
"We'll be friends when I come back," re-
plied Rosy, "and I'll bring you pink corals and
shells."
Louis and Bertie were very much impressed when
they found out the destiny that lay before Rosy;
and hearing the children talk it over with so much
enthusiasm, Mrs. Neal grew reconciled. After all
it would make life broader and richer. Just think
what it would be to any of us who have led quiet,
uneventful lives, if we had three years to look back
upon, of life on the broad blue ocean, under other
skies, with strange stars overhead at night, sailing
from zone to zone, stopping at tropical islands,
catching the spicy breezes, seeing fruit-laden palms,
seeing birds of bright rare plumage, and gather-
ing wonderful shells on coral strands. Louis brought
out his atlas, and all the children bending over it,
marked out a voyage for Rosy, in which no sea was
unvisited, no coast untouched, no island unex-
plored.
When Uncle Ben came for his little girl the next
day, he found her bright and eager, quite willing to
go with him at once, and begin to make ready for
her ship-life. Mrs. Neal made some sensible sug-
gestions in Rosy's behalf, which the bluff sailor
gratefully accepted,
Louis and Kitty went once to visit Rosy at the
boarding-house before she left it, and brought home
a vivid account of its dreary discomfort.
"Not one.bright thing about it, mamma," said
Kitty, only Rosy and her doll; and oh, mamma,
she has made a dress for her dolly out of that blue
silk I gave her, a great, great deal prettier than
Florietta's !"
At last the Laughing Sally" sailed out of port,
with a little smiling figure on deck, waving a fare-
well'to the group of friends who stood on the shore
to see her depart. It was to be a three years' voy-
age. When they could no longer distinguish Rosy,
the Neals went home, and from day to day tried to


731


imagine how her new life must seem to her, and
what was happening.
The months slipped by, and season followed
season. The children talked often of Rosy, and
wondered how she fared. Sometimes, on the very
coldest, stormiest nights they would picture her
walking at that moment on some sunlit shore,
gathering curious shells for them. But their
mother was haunted by the thought of a little
shrinking, trembling creature, with only a few
boards between her and the raging, cruel waters.
A year went by, two years, and the third was
almost gone. Louis was now a tall boy of sixteen,
and Kitty was growing a great girl. They won-
dered if Rosy would know them when she came
back; she must be growing a great girl now herself.
When the third twelvemonth had quite passed,
they began to study the shipping list in the paper,
expecting every time to see the Laughing Sally "
reported. But she was never even named. Month
after month rolled by, and still no news. No
"Laughing Sally" came sailing into port, with a
little smiling figure at the bow waving a glad salute.
No one seemed to know anything about Rosy's ship.
The owners lived in some far-off city, so there was
no one who could answer their inquiries. The Neals
only knew that the ship never was hailed, never
was sighted, never came to shore. So many ships
went down each year, could it be that Rosy's was
among the doomed?
At last it was five years since she sailed away.
The Neals no longer spoke merrily and gayly of
Rosy, but always gently and gravely. They had
moved now from the house which had so long been
their home, to another even pleasanter in the dis-
tant suburbs. Louis was almost ready for college,
and Kitty was almost a young lady. Even Bertie
had grown past belief, and Willy was the only one
who now cared for velocipedes.
Still another year was slipping away, time goes
so fast, and Mrs. Neal's birthday, which the family
always celebrated, was close at hand. Louis and
Kitty, in search of something lovely enough for a
present, came into the city one day together, and
went among all the stores. Louis complained that
they should not get through before night, Kitty
kept stopping so before all the show-windows.
"I can't help it, when everything looks so
pretty," she said, laughing; "now just see that
windowful of lovely dolls. If I live to be sixty, I
shall always stop to look at dolls. If you feel too
big and grand, Louis, you can be looking at that
other window of books while you wait for me."
So Louis stood before the window of books, and
Kitty grew absorbed in the charming groups of
gayly dressed dolls. She said afterward she felt
impressed that she must look at them all. There





[SEPTEMBER,


was a bridal party, and a group at a ball, a cunning
little tea-party, and a comical sewing society. In
a corner of the window was a family group, at which
finally Kitty found herself gazing with intensest
interest. She could not make out its meaning at
first. There was a sweet-faced lady-doll, holding


"I see them," said Louis, casting an indifferent
glance that way.
"But you don't notice. Oh, Louis, don't you
remember the day your velocipede knocked Rosy
down, and how we children all stood around while
mother took her shoe off, and Uncle Ben? There


ti--;T 1


if
I i "-':: l ',i ', I


"THERE SHE SAT AT WORK."


a little girl-doll in her lap while other doll-children
stood around. Then there was a great, good-
natured man-doll, with a big coat and long beard,
looking on. Suddenly it all flashed over Kitty.
"Louis! Louis! come over here quick!" she
cried excitedly. "See, only see those dolls !"


we all are, there you are yourself, with a sword at
your side I am going right in to find out who
dressed those dolls."
And impulsive Kitty, followed by her bewildered
brother, rushed into the store at once, and made
her inquiries.


732


ROSY.








1876.1 ROSY.


"We have two girls who dress dolls at work now
in the back room," said the forewoman of the
establishment. Kitty went eagerly to the glass door
and peeped through. Alas both were brunettes-
no Rosy there.
Who arranged the groups in the window? she
asked, pertinaciously.
Ah, that," said the forewoman, "was done by
our most skillful worker. She does the most of her
work at home, then brings the dolls here and
groups them. Her name is Ferguson."
Her address ?" demanded Kitty, breathlessly.
No. 16 Weir Street," said the woman, referring
to the books.
Louis was now interested too, and ordering a
carriage, he and Kitty in a moment more were on
their way to the place designated.
Oh, Louis, Louis! can it be Rose?" said Kitty,
as they alighted, and began to ascend the narrow
stairs. A little boy showed them the door, Louis
rapped, and a pleasant voice said, Come in."
There she sat at work. It was she-dear, sweet
Rose! Six years older, of course, and paler than
when they saw her last, but it was Rose. Kitty
threw her arms about her, with a storm of questions
and tender reproaches, while Louis, much moved,
made his way to the bed where poor Uncle Ben lay,
evidently ill, and grasped his hand.
Then it all came out, the story of the delay and


the long silence. The "Laughing Sally had made
out her cargo of oil in good time, and had started
on the return, when she was met at Tahiti by an-
other ship of the same owners, commissioned to take
the oil, and to order the Sally" back for another
cruise. Uncle Ben's health had even then began
to fail, he was becoming subject to rheumatism, and
after five years' absence from his native land, he
exchanged ships, took one homeward bound, and
he and Rosy had now been back in the city for five
months. Of course his little funds were soon ex-
hausted, but Rosy luckily had been able to find
work, and so they had lived.
"But why didn't you come to us? Why didn't
you come straight to us ? Kitty asked again and
again as the story was told.
I did go," said Rose, "but there was another
family in the house, and no one could tell me where
you lived. It was not in the directory either."
"Because we had moved out of town," exclaimed
Kitty, "and there we were lost to each other,
though less than five miles apart!"
And did you reach the Fortunate Islands and
find the coral strands, and the palm groves, Rose ?"
asked Louis.
Rose laughed merrily.
"I have kept a log." she said, "and you and
Bertie shall read it. But whatever I found, there
was nothing fairer than my native land! "


HORRIFIED ELDER BROTHER: "BEEN A-WHITEWASHIN' BABY, HAS YER? WHAT DOES YER S'POSE DE S'IETY FUR DE INVENTION
OB ANIMALS 'LL DO TO YER WHEN'HE HEARS OB IT?"


733


1876.]


ROSY.








JACK IN THE PULPIT. [SEPTEMBER,


J CK- IN -TH i' ULPIT .
JAC-I H- U--: I-.

J AC K -I THEP1ULPIT .


THE DEACON sends you a verse this month, my.
beloved, with his compliments. He says there is
comfort in it for scores of ambitious young folk
who sent him letters, during the "Declaration"
competition, complaining that they felt themselves
to be so useless, in this great busy world. It was
written by Mrs. Browning, who wrote The Cry
of the Children," and the Deacon says that in this
verse, which somehow answers the cry of the boys
and girls, she hits the pin exactly on the head:
Let us be content, in work,
To do the thing we can, and not presume
To fret because it's little. 'T will employ
Seven men, 1.. to make a perfect pin.
Who makes "'.- 1... .. consents to miss the point;
Who makes the point agrees to miss the head;
And if a man should cry: 'I want a pin,
And r... :1 :t :r. ,. 1-,. ..t. h.ad and point,'
H is .. .: .-. .- 1 .- i. I-... wants."

AN ARMY SLIDING DOWN HILL.
I SHOULD really have liked to see the sight. An
army of many thousands of great, grown men all
sliding down hill for the fun of the thing.
It seems that when one of the barbarous tribes
called the Cimbri came from their homes in north-
ern Europe to attack ancient Rome, they were
obliged to cross the Alps. They, however, did n't
object to that. They rather liked it in fact, for
they were strong, and hardy. So it was a favorite
amusement of theirs to climb to the tops of the
snow and ice-covered peaks, carrying with them
their great broad shields, and, arrived at the sum-
mits, to cast themselves down on the shields, very
much as boys now do upon their sleds, and with
great rough shouts of laughter to swiftly glide down
the vast and dangerous descents.
How do I know all this? Why from hearing
somebody reading aloud from a book called Mal-
let's Northern Antiquities."


HOME-MADE BEAUTY.
THE more they use their muscles, the stronger,
and consequently the more beautiful, my girls and
boys will grow. They are something like trees and
plants. The more these are stirred by the wind
the more rapidly the sap flows through their trunks
and branches, and the stronger and more beautiful
they become. Boys and girls have this advantage:
they can exercise just when they wish, and need
never wait for the wind to come and blow them.

A HORSE THAT KNEW IT WAS SUNDAY.
DEAR JACK: I want to tell you a true horse story.
The horse was raised on Long Island by my father, who used her
for many years,-on week days for farm-work, and on Sundays to
take the family to meeting. She was not a beauty, but she was
strong and trusty. She always went by the name of" Miss Finley."
When the faithful creature had grown old in long service, father
took her, one summer morning, across the bay to Robin's Island,
that lay over half a mile off, and left her there to rest, and to crop the
good grass at will. In other words, she was placed on the "retired
veteran list," with all the honors. This was on a Monday. Well,
all that week the old mare stayed there and enjoyed herself to her
heart's content; but when Sunday came, and the first ringing of the
Church bell began, the knowing animal pricked up her ears and list-
ened. Then she trotted along the sand-bar as far as it went, and,
without a moment's hesitation, plunged into the water, swam over to
the main land, and went straight to the stable. She knew it was
Sunday, and that she should be needed to take the family to meet-
ing Dear old Miss Finley But the hardest part of it was that
father, not thinking of ever using her again, had already purchased
a new horse. Miss Finley found her own empty stall. But some-
thing was wrong All was silent. There was no familiar voice; no
familiar touch, and the harness did not fall clanking about her as
usual. Could it be that the folks were not going to meeting, after
all? No one knows what Miss Finley thought, nor how she felt,
when, after a while, the new horse came trotting briskly home with
the family. But you may believe she was patted and praised when
we found her. We gave her water; called her a good old girl;
hugged her neck; pulled handfuls of fresh clover for her; gave her
lumps of sugar, and did all we could to do her honor One and all
agreed that nothing was too good for the faithful old horse who knew
it was Sunday-Yours truly, J. G. T.
New Suffolk, L. I.
A KIND O' GARDEN.
POOH your sister is too little to go to school.
She's almost a baby."
"But she does go to school, any way."
"It is n't a real school."
Yes it is, too. It's a German school -"
The big boy who had been speaking so ungal-
lantly to the rosy-faced little girl fairly jumped.
What! that little bit of a thing go to a Ger-
man school! Can she speak German ?"
Oh no," laughed the other, she don't have
to speak German. It's a Kind-er-Garten."
"A kind o' garden? Oh! That's a great
school! Who could n't go to a kind o' garden.
Oho "
The rosy girl laughed, but she had caught the
boy's saucy way: It is n't a kind o' garden, nei-
ther; it's a Kindergarten."
Just then the Little Schoolma'am, who chanced
to be near by, called out pleasantly:
Not so fast, Lizzie! You both are right, and
both wrong. It is a school, and it also is a kind of
garden, dear. Kinder garten (pronounced, Kin-
der, not Kind-er, Lizzie !) means, literally, a chil-
dren's garden. In fact, many of the German
Kinder-gartens do have bright little greeneries,
where the children may play. But whether it be
indoors or out, a true Kinder-garten always should


734


JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


[SEPTEMBER,






JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


735


be as sunny and fresh with heart-shine as an out-
of-door garden is with sunshine."
(If Lizzie had seen the word heart-shine" in a
book it might have puzzled her, but the pretty
Schoolma'am's bright eyes and kind voice were so
full of it that Lizzie understood right away just
what heart-shine meant.)
Then Lizzie and the saucy boy went off together
in the most friendly manner, and the pretty School-
ma'am was quite pleased as she saw the boy's rough
straw hat and Lizzie's pink sun-bonnet bobbing in
close conversation.
Dear soul! Jack wouldn't for anything have
had her hear what that conversation was :
Straw-hat: "Humph. Great school! I told
you so It is n't nothing' but a garden, after all.
The Schoolma'am said so."
Sun-bonnet: "Aint you smart! It is a school,
too. The schoolma'am said it was."

BERNARD, THE HERMIT.

A GOOD friend sends, in care of your Jack, a bit
of writing, which she says she translated on pur-
pose for you, "from one ofMerime'e's Lettres a une
Inconnue, published not very long ago" :

Cannes, January 22, 1859.
You should know that I have given myself up wholly to the study
of nature, and shall have a rett account of kid for you when we
meet. Have you ever happened to see an odd little animal called
here "Bernard, the hermit "?
It is a little creature of the lobster species, no larger than a grass-
hopper. Nature has omitted to provide any covering for his tail.
So when the hermit would go about upon the shore, he picks up
some shell large enough to admit his unsheltered tail, crams it in, and
promenades entirely at his ease.
Yesterday, happening to come across one thus equipped, I picked
it up, carefully broke the shell, without injury to the contents, and
put my captive into a plate of sea-water. After a time, I placed an
empty shell of suitable size in his dish, when the little fellow quickly
approached and surveyed the object on all sides; then, raising one
claw, he evidently took a measurement of its dimensions, and ended
by thrusting his pincers inside, to make sure the former occupant had
vacated the dwelling. All being satisfactory, he finally seized the
shell with his front claws, and, turning some sort of somersault, he
managed to thrust his tail into its extemporized shelter; and finding
it fairly in, he strutted about on his plate, with the air of a man emerg-
ing from a fashionable tailor's dressed in a brand-new suit of clothes.

READY-MADE CLOTHING-GROWN ON A TREE.

VERY singular, I must say, but one can't doubt
the word of Humboldt, and the Little Schoolma'am
read about it in his works. The garment grows on
the trunk of the tree ; it is, in fact, a very wide ring
of the bark, cut around as you boys cut a willow
twig to make a whistle of it, and taken off the
beheaded trunk in one piece. Two holes are cut
for the arms. The South American native slips
it over his head and considers himself in full dress.
Now, if you boys would dress in that style, what a
saving of trouble for mothers, it would be !

A COLD-COUNTRY DRESS.

THAT last was a hot-country dress. Now you
shall hear how the natives of Siberia array them-
selves.
It's cold up there, I understand, and that is
why they dress so warmly. Two complete suits of
fur from neck to heels-one suit with the hair side


in, the other with the hair side out. A hood, tied
under the chin, is made of the fur from a reindeer's
head, and besides the holes for eyes and mouth,
it has often the ears of the departed deer stick-
ing up on top of the man's head. He's an object
to behold; but he is comfortable, and he does n't
care if he does look like some wild animal. His
wife dresses in almost exactly the same style, so do
his children; in fact, everybody does. It's the
fashion.

A LETTER FROM SCOTLAND TO OUR ROBIN.

HERE is a letter from the pretty Blue Jay of
Scotland, to our dear American Robin. It has
come a long way, and a little, bird tells me that
Robin will enjoy it all the more if he reads it over

your shoulders. So gather close, and with Robin's
help we '11 all spell it out together:
Ayr, on the Firth o' Clyde, Scotland.
DEAR MR. ROBIN: I hae been tauld that certain flooers o' Scot's
Lan' an' America hae been holding' converse thro' the pages o' ane
New York bulk belongin' to the wee bit bonnie bairns o' a' plan's,
an' luved by a' alike. Du ye ken ony reason why you an' I should
na hae a bit o' talk efter the same manner o' correspondence? Surely
we are luved by lads an' lassies een amaist as dearly as the flowers
are, an' they'll nae be loath to let us hae a word wi' them.
Hae they not great armies o' bird-defenders, wha's names are writ
in the same child's bulk? Ane thing, dear Maister Robin, wad seem
befittin', an' that is, that we singers o' bird songs should aye strive
to mak' oor sangs far bonnier an' strangr than iver before, oot o'
pure gratitude to a' the kin' hearted weans who hae taken a pledge o'
bird-defense. Think ye sae? Nae doubt ye'11 teach a sweeter chirp
to yer an wee birdies in the spring o' the year, an' that '11 be a fine
kind o' handin' doon yer thankfu'ness o' bert, frae ane generation to
another. Ane cannawonner at the o'erflow o' heart an' voice in praise-
fu' sang frae birdie throats, when ane considers a' the "giftids God
has gied," in showing' them hames an' families o' their verra ain,
aside frae a' the sunlight an' leaf shelter.
Hae ye larches in America an' Scotch pine-trees? Do ye ken that
they are leal o' her in their aye-green coaties? Nae tree o'ony clime
boasts o' mair o' nature's true nobility. And hae ye the wee wrink-
led willow, a dwarfie wha grows but ane or twa feet tall upon oor
great an' sma "Bens ?" [Do ye name your Bens "Mountains?"j
I wish ye kenned the lark o' oorlan'. His voice is money measures
bonnier than my ain, an nae melody o' wind amang the tops o' spruce
or fir, or e'en amang the fields o' ripenin' grain is sae sweet an'
heaven-like as his. It isna strange that a' folk o' human family, or
o' oor ain, aye luve the dear brown birdie.
Hae ye wren, an' bobolink, an' swallow cousins in yer lan', an'
du ye claim kinship wi ilka wee bit warbler?
My kin' regards to Mistress Robin, in which I am joined by my
wife. Ken ye the couplet: "It warms me, it charms me to men-
tion but her name?" It weel applies to a bird's ain feeling altho' it
was writ by a human singer o' Scotia.--Farewell.
BLUE JAY.
To Robin-Red-Breast, in care of Mr. Jack-in-the-Pulpit.

THE SONG OF THE SHIRT.

I HEARD the Little Schoolma'am, one day, telling
some girls that Tom Hood's Song of the Shirt,"
was rejected three times by London editors before
it found any one willing to accept it. She said this
should be a comfort to all young contributors whose
articles are declined by ST. NICHOLAS. I don't
quite understand this myself, but if the pretty
Schoolma'amn says so it must be right. The Deacon
remarked that three rejections must be rather dis-
couraging, but that all the children had to do was
to produce something better than the Song of the
Shirt," and then it would n't be rejected but once
or twice. But my birds don't believe a word of the
story. They say shirts can't sing a note. Non-
sense! Just as if the pretty Schoolma'am could
make a mistake!


~


1876.]





FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS.


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TOMMY.


736


[SEPTEMBER,


---A


.,


--


-' --





FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS.


737


HOW TOMMY CAME HOME.

TOMMY was a tame bird. You see him in the picture, sitting on the back
of a chair. Sometimes he was shut up in his cage; but he was so tame, and
knew the family so well, that he was often allowed to fly about the room.
One day, a window happened to be open when Tommy was out of his cage,
and he thought it would be a good thing for him to go out of doors for a
little while. So he went out. He flew up into a tree, and it was so nice and
cool there that he soon flew into another tree, and so he kept on flying about
until it was night, and he was a long way from home. Tommy now began
to get hungry, and to wish himself back in his cage, where he knew there
was plenty of nice seed. But he did not know exactly which way to go, for
it was quite dark, and he was not used to being out-of-doors at night. So
he went to sleep on a limb of a tree; but .before he shut his eyes, he made
up his mind that he would wake up very early and try to catch a worm.
But when he awoke it was not very early, and the country birds, who live
out-of-doors all the time, had caught all the worries. So poor Tommy felt
so badly that he did not even try to find his way home.
When his kind master missed Tommy, he was. very sorry, and, he went
looking all about for him, whistling a little tune that Tommy liked. But no
Tommy answered him. After breakfast, the next day, a gentleman came to
Tommy's master's:house and said, I saw a bird like your Tommy in a tree
back of Mr. Scott's barn. He whistled just like Tommy." So Tommy's
master took the bird-cage and ran all the way to Mr. Scott's barn. And
there in a tree was Tommy So his master began to whistle' the little tune
Tommy liked, and Tommy was glad enough to hear that tune, and he
whistled it too. His master put the cage on the ground and opened the
door, and then:he stepped to one side and whistled again. In a few minutes
Tommy flew down on the ground and hopped along to the cage. When he
saw that it was really his own cage, he went in and began to eat seed as fast
as he could. Then his master shut the door and took him home, and he was.
very glad indeed to get Tommy again.
Now you see that if Tommy's master had not been kind to him, the poor
lost bird would have been afraid to come down from the tree and go into his
cage. But Tommy had been so kindly treated that he was not afraid, and
so his master got him again.
If you have a bird or any other pet, you ought to remember this story
and be kind to your pet, and then, if it should get lost, it may be as glad to
see you as Tommy was to see his master.


1876.]






738 YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS' DEPARTMENT. SEPTEMBERR,


YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS' DEPARTMENT.


THE DIAMOND AND THE LOADSTONE.

ONCE a Diamond and a Loadstone on a shelf together lay,
While with.looks of mutual wonder, each the other did survey.
Quoth the Diamond, in her scorning: "Will you please to kindly
state
Why we're treated so like equals when our difference is so great?
Why does stupid man consider an unpolished stone like you
Fit to be the near companion of a gem so bright to view ?
Mine are bright and shining virtues-I am sought alike by all;
The haughty great, the humble little, by my light are held in thrall.
I appear with equal splendor when a vesture rich I clasp;
Or, with glow and sparkle, hold a slender finger in my grasp.
I am chosen by the beauty, with my charms her own to grace,
In the glittering crowns of monarchs do I also find a place !
But for you, a simple pebble !-I confess 'tis not quite clear
On what merit rests your title to the station you hold here."

Then the Loadstone humbly answered, "It is true I've been denied
All those bright, external beauties which so justly swell your pride.
I am conscious of my plainness-my slight value too, I fear,
To those who, like you, wish worth on the surface to appear.
'Tis your province to adorn-but 'mid the graver cares of life
Men have found that you but please them, while I help them in their
strife.
By my aid their ships hold commerce with the ports of distant lands,
By my aid the world's great circle comes to their industrious hands.
I bring from France her silks and laces; carry back as rich a store,
Bear to England what she values, gather fabrics from her shore.
I skim along the perfumed tropics, seek the wealth of every clime;
I lead the traveler's eager footsteps to the mold'ring halls of Time.

I spread the fame of noble deeds and bear love's message sweet,
Unite hearts by distance severed in a living band complete.
I explore the earth ; I conquer nations; men owe their wealth to me.
For my magic guides their passage o'er the boundless, pathless sea.
You're indeed a pretty baube, ale, I am pleased to hear you tell,
Since to shine is all you can do, you succeed in that so well.
But in future, pray remember, when to scorn you feel inclined,
'T was I who brought, with other blessings, even you to grace man-
kind !"

Thus we learn a useful lesson-one that people often need,
And among the gay and thoughtless, I would have them ever heed:
Though the outside seem attractive, and its beauties please the eye,
Yet beneath a plain exterior, great virtues sometimes lie. G. H.


IN THE DARK.

OH, mother, it is so hard to have nothing one wants, it seems
just like living in the dark "
"Hush, Mary! There, take this work home and bring me some
more, and think of your blessings child, think of your blessings."
Mary shut the creaking door behind her, and set off at a brisk pace
for Mrs. Holt's, really trying to think of her blessings.
First, there's mother. But she always looks so tired, and the
sewing machine makes her back ache; why can't she rest, and be
comfortable sometimes ? Then the boys,-they are strong and well,
and they can go to school while I have to stay at home to help with
the seo ing. Oh, if I cous go to school, I would study so hard!
And if I could learn French like Ada Holt, and take music lessons,
and live in a pretty house instead of that draughty little brown one"-
and Mary found herself, almost crying, at Mrs. Holt's door. The
housemaid let her in, saying,
"' Sit in the parlor and get warm, while I take this work up to Mrs.
Holt."
Mary would usually have been glad of such an invitation, but to-
day she felt too unhappy to care, and seated herself, thinking,
"They live in the sunshine, and I in the dark."
What did she hear ? Not an echo, surely, but the words were very
like her own.
It is so sad to be here in the dark."
Where did that thin, silvery voice come from? Ah! the closet
door was half-open, and on the shelf stood A whole row of hyacinth
bulbs in glasses. One of them was certainly speaking.
"See those other plants by the window. How they put forth new
leaves and blossoms and enjoy the sunshine while we are shut up
here. How can our tops grow without light?"
You don't understand," said another bulb, "if we were put in the
sun our tops would grow, but we should have no roots, and soon die.
I heard our mistress say that our roots need darkness, and when they
are long enough she will put us on the shelf by the window."


"Really? said all the other bulbs in chorus.
"Really," said the speaker.
Mary had listened with interest.
"Hyacinths," she said, "why do I have to live in the dark? I
can't have anything I want, like other girls, but I am not a plant
like you."
"Perhaps patience and energy in people are like roots in flowers,"
said the wisest bulb. "Anyway, you had better learn patience."
"Yes," sang the rest, "learn patience."
"I will," said Mary.
At that moment Mrs. Holt entered the room with some work for
Mary's mother, and the little girl went home.
That happened weeks ago, and now the hyacinths stand in full
bloom on the shelf by the window. Whenever Mary comes to the
house, she thinks they nod to her and say,
Patience your good times are coming! H, N. G.


ANNA'S PIG.
ONCE a little dark-eyed girl, whose name was Anna, was made a
present of a little white pig. A pig was something unusual to Anna,
because she did not live in the country, but in the limits of a flourish-
ing little town on the Lake Erie shore, where pigs and cattle could
not be very conveniently kept. But this little pig was a present, and
of course must have the greatest care and attention. Accordingly a
little sty was made for it, and not of the common order either. An
inclosure was made of boards, nice and smooth. Boards were laid at
the bottom; but thatwas not all. A little house was made of boards
and shingles. Hay was put inside for piggy to sleep on. Every
thing seemed to be quite flourishing and pleasant for piggy. But
Anna soon discovered that piggy was not contented in his new home.
Anna concluded that he must be very lonesome in there, all alone,
from the way he squealed, and kept on squealing, from morning until
night; but Anna could not very well see how she could help it, and
it sorely troubled her, and finally concluded to let piggy squeal; per-
haps he would get used to his new home in time. As piggy was fed
by the man of the house, he very soon and naturally slipped out of
Anna's mind, until one day Anna described piggy's tail and hind parts
just disappearing through the front door-yard fence.
Anna was thoroughly aroused, and decided that piggy must be
caught at once. Away she flew after piggy, her little sister following
after her at her heels. But such a tiresome chase from street to
street; with steady determination piggy dodged, and Anna and her
little sister dodged. They tried their best to head piggy, but could
not, until some little boy came to their assistance, and then it was all
up with piggy. He was cornered and hopelessly caught. Anna
held him by the fore feet and head as firmly as she could, and her
little sister held him by the hind feet and tail. Piggy squealed louder
than ever, and nearly succeeded in kicking himself loose, but the
three arrived home safely, all panting and out of breath. Although
it took all of Anna's strength, and left her weak and trembling, yet
such was her determination to con tquer that she would not give up.
Piggy was taken good care of until it began to be cold weather,
and great fears were entertained that piggy would not stand the cold.
And, alas, such was only too true. Poor piggy was brought in the
house, one bitter frosty morning, frozen stiff. Anna felt very sorry,
and did all she could to revive him by the heat of the stove, but it was
of no use, piggy was frozen too stiff and hard. A. E. F.


THE RAIN.
RAIN, rain what do you mean?
By raining so hard all this day.
Quoth the rain, "That remains to be seen,
I was not born for mere play.

"What you do, do with all your might;
So I rain, rain, rain,
And as I consider that right,
Please do not complain.

This rain will bring forth tiny buds,
To blossom into larger flowers;
It will help the washing-tub
To wash out ladies' dowers.

By and by the sun will burst out laughing,
And you will forget I stayed so long.
So after this, please, away with your chaffing,
For, I hope, now you see that is wrong."
BABS.






YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS' DEPARTMENT.


IN SEASON AND OUT OF SEASON.
THE sky was gray and dark overhead.
We shall have snow at last," they said.
Truly they spake. The earth, ere night,
Was robed in a mantle pure and white.
And still the flakes came floating down,
Into the country and into the town;
Floating and flying, in groups and rings,
Like flocks of birds with snow-white wings,
Till the air was white with the whirling clouds,
And still came the rollicking, frolicking crowds.
And wherever the snow-flakes fell that niert
They were hailed by all with joy and -:il. I.-

Folks said the spring had come at last;
The winter cold was over and past.
The sun shone warmly, brightly down,
Into the country and into the town.
Then came a night that was chilly and cold,
And lo a shower of snow-flakes bold.
But wherever the snow-flakes fell that night,
They met with scorn, reproach, and slight.
For surely 't is not the time for snow;
The winter is past, 't is spring-time now.
Ah! poor little flakes, so dainty and white,
You should not have left your home to-night.
You thought, because once you were loved so well,
You would always be welcome whenever you fell.
There's a time for sunshine, a time for showers;
There's a time for snow, little flakes, and for flowers."
So the snow-flakes all unheeded lay,
Till the sun came shining, warm and gay-
And, weeping, then they vanished away.
But from each spot their tears had wet,
There sprang a blue-eyed violet. t. j.


A FINE YACHT-RACE.
I THINK ST. NICHOLAS would like to print something about the
races which have occurred between the Resolute, Dreadnought, and
Vesta, and so I will write some account of one of them.
The Resolute is a center-board schooner n13 feet long, and is en-
rolled in the papers of the New York and Atlantic Yacht Club.
The Dreadnought is a famous keel schooner, and is of the New
York and Brooklyn Yacht Clubs.
The Vesta is a center-board schooner, and was a partaker of the
famous ocean race won by the Henrietta.
Suppose we go on board of the Dreadnought for this race.
The wind was a strong north-west, and the waves now were crested
with foam, and we had promise from a grayish cloud to windward
of plenty of wind during the night.
We had picked crews, and the yachts were in splendid trim. We
were to be taken down to the light-ship by the steamer Cyclops, but,
as there was plenty of wind, we preferred to sail.
We were all to be in the vicinity of the light-ship at 3 o'clock, and
so we were.
But it had been agreed that we should not start till 4, so we had to
sail, or lie about till that time.
The Resolute fired two guns as a signal at six minutes before 4
o'clock.
As soon as the signal was given we ran up our topsails, and soon
we had our canvas full.
The Vesta got past the light-ship one-sixth of a second before us,
and we a few seconds before the Resolute.
The start was a superb one, and we had (we thought) the wind
fair both ways for the 112 miles of race.
For the first minutes of the race neither seemed to gain, but the
Resolute began to get to windward of us.
But our yacht would not have this, so we ran up so as to leave the
Vesta a good deal to leeward.
As the breeze freshened, both of us began to leave the Vesta.
We could not gain on the Resolute, for she kept to windward.
About this time we looked back to see the Vesta haul up herjib
topsail; but that was only to be hauled up and then pulled down
again.
We then held our own well, and once in a while our main boom
would go into the waves and throw up showers of spray.
The Vesta then hauled up closer to the wind, and then was far-
thest to windward, but farthest from the next turning-point, which
was the Five Fathom light-ship of Cape May.
About 6 o'clock the Resolute passed and kept passing us, until she
cleared us entirely by half a mile.
We then cast our log, which showed that we made 113 knots an
hour.
The wind now veered round north-east, and we concluded that
we would have a rough time tacking back to New York.
When we rounded the light-ship about midnight, we were very
much astern of the Resolute, while the Vesta had bettered her situa-
tion toward us a good deal.


During the night the Vesta split her foresail, which spoilt her en-
tirely for finishing the race with anything but a good record, for she
came in very late.
We laid upon the wind so close that the sails sometimes shook.
When the Resolute tacked the second time, she passed under our
stem, and was now to chase us, but we got past the goal first. This
was at a quarter past 8.
The Vesta did not get in till a quarter of nine.
You immediately sling down this magazine, and inform your
friend, who is waiting to play chess, that the Dreadnought has
beaten the Resolute; but hold on a few minutes, there is a time
allowance.
Time allowance? you say, incredulously.
Yes. For instance, take this very race. The Dreadnought started
say one minute ahead of the Resolute, and came in 59 seconds
ahead. You can easily see what they call a time allowance, can
you not? H.


SIR ISAAC NEWTON DISCOVERING GRAVITATION.
(Drawn by a Younfg Contributor.)


739


X876.]






THE LETTER-BOX.


THE LETTER-BOX.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You are my favorite reading-book. I do
not subscribe for you, but papa buys you every month. 1 will tell
you about the first time I ever tried to make bread, which was last
Saturday. I am twelve years old, and mamma thinks I ought to
begin to learn something about cooking. So she mixed the yeast,
gave me directions how to make the bread, and went off to visit the
Centennial Buildings. As soon as the yeast was light, I poured it
into a bread-pan of flour, and mixed it with lukewarm water, put it
on the bread-board and began to knead it. It was so stiff that I did
not know what to do. I remembered mamma's telling me about the
first time she made bread; so I made holes in the dough, put water
in them, and kneaded it until it was about right. I then set it by to
rise again, and when it looked like it was light I kneaded it, put it in
the bake-pans to rise, and then in the oven to bake. You may be
sure I felt very much worried, and watched it very close, for fear it
would not bake right.
When the bread was cut and brought to the table, they all declared
it was splendid. I am afraid my letter is getting too long, so I will
close.-Your friend, STELLA.

Albert Lea, Minnesota.
SDEAR ST. NICHOLAS: As we do not know the address of H. H.,
the author of the article in the June number called The Expression
of Rooms," and as we wish to know what H. H. means in that
article by Japanese fans being put on the walls of a room, from the
cornice to the book-case, we write to you for information.-Respect-
fully, MARY ARMSTRONG AND NORA ABBOTT.
New York, June S2th, 1876.
DEAR GIRLS; I ought to have said, "Pin the fans on the wall,"
I was very stupid. The fans are very light, and two pins will hold
one firm. You can pin them across the corners also. Try it. They
are very pretty. I happened to be in the ST. NICHOLAS office this
hot afternoon, and Mrs. Dodge showed me your note.
Your friend, H. H.


Great Eastern Mine, Guerneville, Cal.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have seen other letters printed in the
Letter-Box, so I thought I would like to see mine there. I am living
for the summer at the quicksilver mines, and there is some vermilion
color in the rock that they call cinnabar, and they crush it and put it
into furnaces and roast it, and get the mercury or quicksilver out.
We are surrounded by mountains here, and the redwood trees are
just a little way from the house, and they are from twelve to fifteen
feet in diameter, and most are two hundred feet high. I will not say
any more, or there will not be room for my letter.-Yours respect-
fully, EDITH EAMES.

New York.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like all the stories of ST. NICHOLAS, but
my favorite ones are "The Boy Emigrants and "The Story of Jon
of Iceland." I wish your book could come out oftener. I would be
pleased to have you print this. Last summer, when I was in the
country, I took a walk in the apple orchard. I noticed a snake crawl-
ing off one of the trees. Full of curiosity, like most boys, I climbed
the tree; but what a sight met my eyes! There were five little dead
birds in a nest. Being certain the snake had killed them, I hurried
down from the tree to kill the snake, but was too late; it had dis-
appeared.-One of your true friends, NORMAN LESLIE ARCHER.

"POOR CHUNEE! "
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: "Jack-in-the-Pulpit" brings out of his
well-filled store-house every month such a charming variety of wis-
dom and wit, fact and fancy, for his large family of boys and girls,
that I, for one, have often wondered where in the world he gets it
from-perhaps from that wonderful leaf-no, ulpilt, I guess, in
which he stands; anyway, he is about as eloquent a preacher as I
ever heard, and when, in the last number of ST. NICHOLAS, he told
us of poor Chunee, and that horrid toothache that drove him crazy, I
felt as if I must write and tell "Jack" that dear Chunee was an old
friend of mine.
You see, many years ago, when I was a little girl in my teens, I
used to spend weeks at a time with a dear friend, "Aunt Anna," I
called her, who had a shop for the sale of fine perfumery, toilet and
fancy articles, in Exeter Change, the lower floor of which was,-for I
believe it is not standing now,-a splendid arcade or bazaar, on each
side of which were arranged beautiful compartments, fitted up with
counters, show cases, etc, for the sale of the finest kind of light
goods, such as jewelry, stationery, Tunbridge Wells" toys, and


fancy articles, each compartment divided by light screens. Aunt
Anna's pretty, cozy, little place was just opposite the wide and massive
stairs that led to Mr. Cross's "Royal Menagerie," on the floor above;
and a pretty substantial floor it was, to bear the weight of such a big
fellow as Chunee, besides lions, tigers, camels, bears, and lots of
monkeys.
As the young friend of "Aunt Anna," I received a free invi-
tation from Mr. Cross to visit Chunee and his friends whenever I
chose, and stay as long as I liked. And what nice times I had in
seeing the lions and tigers fed, and in feeding Chunee and the mon-
keys myself. The former so intelligent, so gentle, and so grateful for
the goodies" I used to take him, while the monkies seemed league
together to teaze me; thrusting their long arms through the bars of
their cages, they would catch the straw hat from my head, fill it
with saw dust, and then pelt me with it; they seemed to think me
fair game for their antics.
The docile elephant had never been tortured into unnatural per-
formances by his kind owner, or keeper, but there was one trick that
I used to delight in seeing him do. I would lay a small silver coin
on the palm of my hand which he would pick up very gently, and
then ring a bell for his keeper to come, when he would deposit the
money in his pocket, always trumpeting his thank you for favors
received.
Poor, dear Chunee! How badly I felt when, several years after,
and when I was far away from London, I heard of his sad death. I
did not then know the cause of his sudden madness, but as "Jack-in-
the-Pulpit" says: "What an awful thing six feet of toothache must
have been." ANNIE F. STUART.


Brookline, Mass.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I received your magazine this morning, and
was very glad. I saw that Gussie wanted to know how to make
candy. I have a receipt, although I do not know whether Gussie
will like it. It is this:
i. Take a sheet of foolscap paper and make a box by bending and
pinning the corners. 2. Take a little butter and rub the bottom of
the box. 3. Take three table-spoonfuls of granulated white sugar.
4. Put in two table-spoonfuls of hot water, and then put the paper
box on the stove, not having it too hot, and be careful not to let any
water touch the bottom of the box. Then let it boil for ten minutes.
You would think the paper would burn, but it will not. If you try it,
Gussie, I hope you will succeed.-Yours truly, JOHN F. H.
Who will try this experiment?


JOHN L.-Captain Ericsson is not an American, but a Swede.
Mr. Rideing, in his "Turret-Ships and Torpedoes" (July ST.
NICHOLAS), called him an American engineer because he has so
thoroughly identified himself with American engineering that it is
almost impossible for us to consider him as anything but an Ameri-
can engineer.

Monroe, Iowa.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I will write you a few lines. I am twelve
ears old, and go to school in the grammar-room at Monroe Public
Schools. I live about a mile from the school-house. I feed the
chickens and three cows. Some way, I cannot think of so much as
the other boys to write. Oh yes, if you hear of any boys who want
to buy a scroll-saw, I will sell one cheap. I like the stories in the ST.
NICHOLAS very much.-Your reader, WALTER T. ANDERSON.


Garrison, May, 1876.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in the midst of the grand old mount-
ains of the Highlands of the Hudson; the surrounding scenery is
sublimely beautiful. I will tell you about some of the wild flowers
that I find in my rambles over the mountains. The trailing arbutus
is the most beautiful, and you always find it in great abundance
where the laurel grows. There are so many violets they give the
fields a purple tint. In the marshes I find the delicate anemone, or
as some people call it, the wind-flower, and that is a very appropriate
name, for it looks as though a very small breeze would shake all its
snowy petals off.
In midsummer the flowers are so very abundant that one cannot
step without crushing some of the little darlings; but in autumn,
when the birds have flown, the flowers all gone, and you hear the
sad sound of the leaves dropping one by one, then the fringed gentian
lifts its blue eye to cheer the lonely wood.
I am a great lover of nature, and am very fond of walking in the


740


[SEPTEMBER,







THE LETTER-BOX.


woods and watching the little squirrels gather nuts, and the birds
building their nests.
I think the story of The Boy Emigrants" is splendid, and "The
Eight Cousins was delightful.
I watch for you, dear ST. NICHOLAS, as a friend, and indeed you
are a very dear friend to me.
Long live the ST. NICHOLAS and the dear little schoolma'am.
I remain your constant friend, MATTIE A. GARRISON.


Tyre, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I submit a question which I wish the readers
of ST. NICHOLAS or yourself to decide. If a person is bornm on the
29th of February, does their birthday occur only once in four years ?
If every year, does it occur in February or March, when it is not
leap-year? RUEL L. S.


IN reply to Stella M. Kenyon's request for the answer to the
riddle beginning "There was a man of Adam's race," the follow-
ing persons send the answer-" Jonah in the whale's belly:"
Edward W. Robinson, Wm. C. Bowden, Charlie Goodrich, Mag-
gie Harbison, Gordon Buchanan, Julia P. Ballard, Anne A. Butts,
"Lillian," Vanie H. Cobb, Nellie L. Tate, Ada M. Duchar, E. D. J.
Hennessy, Mrs. G. C. W., "Charlie and Belle," "The Briton,"
Gertrude Vickery, M. W. C., D. B. McLean, Alice E. Clark, "Min-
nie," K. M. S., Hattie L. Hamilton, Libbie Montross, Katie, Mr.
C. B. Stent, Ida Belsham, Euphemia F. Secor, and "Violet."
"Launcelot" sends his answer in the form of an ingenious rhyme:

There's a trina -rd -onderful story
In the ii. -..p.j,... told
Of one, of the race of Adam,
Who lived in the days of old,
And who by the will of Heaven,
And by reason of his sin,
Was doomed to live in a dwelling
All "curiously wrought within; "
It was not built of timbers,
I Nor yet of wood or stone,
No hand had part in its building
Save the hand of God alone;
It was not in hell, nor in Heaven,
Nor on land, where a house should be,
'Twas a restless, roving dwelling,
And roamed about in the sea;
The tenant was not the owner,
The house wasn't his "to keep,"
So JONAH made brief sojourn
In this monster of the deep.

And "Maggie May," with her answer, sends another riddle with
the same answer:

There was a creature formed of God,
That showed His mighty power!
That ne'er in path of sinners trod,
Nor name of Christian bore.
It had no hope of future bliss,
Nor feared its Master's rod,
Yet did a living soul possess
That panted after God.


Lynchburg, Virginia.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been taking your magazine ever
since it was first published, and I think it improves with every num-
ber. I liked "Eight Cousins" better than any story that has ap-
peared in ST. NICHOLAS; it is perfectly splendid, as all of Miss
Alcott's books are.
Perhaps some of the readers of your magazine will be interested in
the following information, which I found in an old English book.
The phrase "He's a brick" seems to be of classic origin, as follows:
King Agesilaus being asked by an ambassador from Epirus why they
had no walls for Sparta, replied, "We have," pointing to his mar-
shaled army. "There are the walls of Sparta, and every man you
see is a brick." NELLIE.

Hartford, Conn.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wish to put my name in the Bird-defend-
ers. I have a little story here which, if you think worth putting in
the Letter-Box, I wish you would do so. When 1 lived in Wilming-
ton I had a black and white cat, which I thought very smart. She
could not endure music. One day mamma was sitting in an arm-
chair and began to sing. The cat (who was asleep on the floor) got
up and climbed on the back of the chair and would keep putting her
paw on mamma's mouth in order to keep her from singing. She did


a good many other things, one of which was ringing the door-bell
when she wanted to go out-of-doors, and pulling the wire from the
other side when she wished to come in. I must tell you the name of
this cat,-we called her "Lady from Philadelphia," because she was
born there.-Yours truly, MAY LOBDELL.

San Francisco.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAs: We 've got a bird. Thank you for the books
that you sent me. We've had a good time out on Pacific Street A
sweet little girl lives around here, named Margie. Another sweet
little girl lives down town, named Meta, I've got a little bell and
some cologne, and a lot of shells that Margie gave me in a little red
'. ': She made a necklace for me. We've got a greenhouse.
've got a new, big ST. NICHOLAS; the pictures in it are very
nice. I send you some kisses. LULU.


Boston, June 8, 1876.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I take you and like you very well. I have
just come home from the Centennial, and it is perfectly splendid. I
liked the Main Building best, and next to that Memorial Hall or Art
Gallery. We used the rolling chairs a great deal, so we did not get
very tired.
The Japanese and Chinese Departments were very interesting,
and the furnished rooms in the English Department are lovely;
there was one room, a drawing-room, furnished in beautiful shades
of green and blue, that I liked particularly; the curtains had yellow
fringe on them, and the carpet was blue with pink rosebuds on it
Just think of all these colors in one room; but it was selected with
such care that it has a charming effect. There are many, many other
beautiful things there. I am afraid this is getting too long, but I
hope you will put it in the Letter-Box. A. H. R.


A CHEAP MICROSCOPE.

ALLEN T. MOORE sends the following directions for making a
cheap microscope. His experiment is a novel one, and is at least
worthy of a trial by all those who desire such an instrument:

First, take an oblong slip of glass (a microscope slide, such as
microscopic objects are mounted upon, is just the thing), and, after
cleaning the glass slip, pour a drop of Canada balsam upon the center
of it. If the drop fall properly, it will form a lens. If it does not
assume a circular form, push the edges into as true a circle as possible
by means of a pin or pointed stick. If you should fail in this effort
and spoil the drop, scrape off as much of the balsam as possible, and
dissolve the remainder in turpentine until the glass is once more en-
tirely clean. Keep trying until you get a circular drop,or lens, free
from dirt or air-bubbles (by looking through it at some small object,
you can easily make sure that it is'perfectly clear), and set it away to
harden. The more convex the lens is, the higher will be its power.
After leaving it in a horizontal position for a week or more, take a
piece of cork, a little thicker than the lens, and cut a hole in it, with
a diameter a little greater than that of the lens. Blacken the glass
around the lens, and also blacken the cork. Fasten the cork to the
glass, so as to have the lens in the center of the hole, and fasten a
piece of thin glass (called by microscopists a thin glass cover) over
the lens, which will prevent dust from settling upon it.
The edges of the glass slip may be ground, or some narrow strips
of paper maybe gummed around them, in order to prevent cutting or
scratching.

Schenectady.
DEACON GREEN: I send you the Declaration of Independence
written out, and I hope it will prove satisfactory. It was written by
Thomas Jefferson, and was proclaimed on the 4th of July, 1776.
There are 56 signers, and the number of States is 13. Will you please
ask the readers of ST. NICHOLAS, when Great Britain acknowledged
the independence of the American colonies ? I take the ST. NICHO-
LAS, and I am very much pleased with it. I hope I will take it all
the time. I must now close.-I remain one of your most interested
readers, H. E. B.

Santa F6, New Mexico.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wonder how many of the children who
read ST. NICHOLAS have ever seen this strange and far-away country,
or can tell how old Santa F6, the capital, is ? This country was set-
tled by the Spaniards several hundreds of years ago, and their de-
scendants are very dark-skinned, and all speak the Spanish language.
The little children nearly all go without any clothes in the summer-
time, and they can make mud-pies without being afraid of soiling
their clothes.
There are a great many strange things in this country. The houses
are built of adobes. The adobes are very large unburned bricks-just
square chunks of mud dried in the sun. They build the houses of
these bricks, and build them like a hollow square, and the windows
nearly all look into this square, orflacita, as it is called. At home
in the States we have the yard all round the house; but here in New


1876.]


741






THE LETTER-BOX.


Mexico they build the house all round the yard. Then they have
not many wagons here, but carry everything on the backs of burros.
These burros are very small donkeys, with very large ears, and are
only to be found in mountainous countries. The little baby burros
are the most cunning little things you ever saw; they are so little,
about as large as a small Newfoundland dog, and their ears are so
very large, they look very funny. But they are very intelligent and
very comical in their actions.
Then the horned toads are a great curiosity, and a very large black
spider, that lives in the ground, is to be found here. These spiders
are called tarantulas, and their bite is poisonous.
The coyotes, or prairie wolves, are found in this country also, and
one of my neighbors caught a little one and made a pet of it. It
grew to be a large wolf, and was as tame as a dog. He and I were
great friends, and he would follow me home whenever he had a
chance. He would run and scamper through the Alfalfa, and roll
and have great fun. He would eat ice-cream and cake; but he got
to be a great thief. He went into a lady's house one day and found
a nice pound-cake, which she had baked for tea, and he ate it every
bit; and a few days afterward he went into another lady's house and
found three pounds of fresh butter, and he ate that too. Was n't he
a very naughty wolf? L. W.

Brooklyn, May i8th, 1876.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl nine years old. I have not
any sisters or brothers, yet I am not lonely. I do not go to school,
but mamma teaches me. I learn geography, spelling, grammar and
arithmetic, but I like grammar best. I like your magazine ever so
much, and think it is perfectly splendid, and wish it would come every
week. I read every story in it, and could read the "Eight Cousins,"
also "The Boy Emigrants," over and over again and not tire of them.
I will not write you any more now, so good-bye.-I remain your little
friend, HELEN.

Bunker Hill, Feb. 25th.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I inclose a little piece cut from a paper, as
I liked it, and thought if your readers had n't seen it they might like
it too.-Your delighted reader, ALLIE BERTRAM.

A SWARM OF BEES,
B patient, B prayerful, B humble, B mild,
B wise as a Solon, B meek as a child;
B studious, B thoughtful, B loving, B kind,
B sure you make matter subservient to mind;
B cautious, B prudent, B trustful, B true,
B courteous to all men, B friendly with few;
B temperate in argument, pleasure and wine,
B careful of conduct, of money, of time;
B cheerful, B grateful, B hopeful, B firm,
B peaceful, B'nevolent, :i,,.; to learn;
B punctual, B gentle, B 1.. .1, B just,
B aspiring, B humble, because thou art dust;
B penitent. 'ir,!r'rc -t -rnd in the faith,
B active, I- ..'. .1 i. 1 'ii.I. till death;
B honest, B holy, transparent and pure,
B dependent, B Christ-like, and you'll B secure.


Newburyport, Mass., May Ia.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My little daughter calls my attention to the
acting-ballad of "Queer People," in your April number, and thinks
the statement about the Esquimaux, that "Never a doll the children
see," must be a poetic license, as she still cherishes the mortal remains
of what was once quite a respectable rag-baby, or rather fur-baby,
which I brought some years ago from the British side of Baffin's Bay.
To be sure, dolls are rare there even among the children of the
aristocracy, though I have seen quite artistic specimens, which in
figure, features, and dress were perfect counterparts of the adult
natives,. even to the hood-cape, with a tiny pappoose in it, which
must be a peculiarly Esquimaux conception, as I never saw a
Christian doll carrying an infant. W. S. S.


A CURIous CALENDAR.
3 4 5 6
At Dover dwelt George Brown, Esquire,
7 8 9 ro 11 12
Good Caleb French, and David Frire.
THE words, in their order, represent the twelve calendar months;
and the initial letters-to wit, A, B, C, D, E, F and G-represent the
seven days of the week.
Knowing the day of the week on which falls the first day of Janu-
ary, in any year, you can tell on what day of the week the first day
of each month in that year falls. When it is leap-year, you must add
one day to the count for the months after February.
Example: The first of January, c876, falls on Saturday-A. To


find on what day of the week falls the first day of November, r876,
you first find the initial letter of November, which is D(avid), the
eleventh word in the above couplet. Now commence and count on
your fingers, A (i), B (2), C (3), D (4). So the first of November
falls on the fourth day after the day on which falls January ist. Now
count again: Saturday (i), Sunday (2), Monday (-1 Tue1day (4);
but 1876 being leap-year, and November following 1 ....-, you add
one, and thus find Wednesday, the first of November, 1876. Now
take August, initial letter C(aleb): Count A (i), B (2), C (3); then
count again, Saturday (i), Sunday (2), Monday (3), and add one for
leap-year, and we have Tuesday, August I. And so on for all the
months. You will notice that the initial letter of February is also
D(over), but not being affected by leap-year, the first day of that
month falls on Tuesday; while the succeeding month, March, initial
letter D(welt), being affected by leap-year, makes the first day
Wednesday. X.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Perhaps you know this sentence, which
reads the same backward and forward. If not, here it is: "Able was
I ere I saw Elba."-Yours, LULU.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought I would write and tell you how
much I like your last continued story, called "The Boy Emigrants."
I like it very much, and am in a great hurry to get the rest of it to
read. I like all the stories in the magazine very much, and hope you
will keep on having such nice ones.-Yours affectionately,
AMY W. HERBERT.

Kingston, Ind.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You have been a regular visitor at our house
for a year, and you are always welcomed with delight. I think The
Boy Emigrants" is very amusing. I tried for the "prize puzzle,"
but did not succeed. Two years ago, just two days after my birth-
day, I had the second and third fingers of my right hand taken off
They were crushed and torn terribly in a reaping-machine, and had
to be amputated.-Yours truly, HENRY HAMILTON.


Rose Hill, Mahaska County, Iowa.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have a tortoise-shell cat, and she is a
good one too. She had three little kittens; the Tommy cat killed
two, and would have killed the other one, if I had not put it in the
sitting-room on the lounge. My doll is at the head, and the kitten
goes up and plays with its blue shoes. Our hired man found two
little squirt-: .. .. them to me. I fed them with milk at first,
and then ; .I- '. the old cat and watched her, to see if she
would hurt them; but she fondled them as much as she did her kitten,
and nurses them. The squirrels have got their eyes open now. They
will hold bread in their paws and eat it; and will run all over my arms
and into my sleeves.-Yours truly, FANNIE M. JARVIS (aged 9).


San Francisco.
DEAR ST. NICHOL -: 7r 1.. : .. you described how to make a
boat: but it was a I it .... .: Now, can you not describe
how to make a round-bottomed one; also a small yacht ?-and oblige
A CONSTANT READER.
ST. NICHOLAS thinks that there are few boys who could make a
serviceable or safe round-bottomed boat.


Yonkers, N. Y., April 23d, 1876.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I only began to take you this year, and I
think you are splendid; but I wish you came oftener.
My brother has a little donkey and carriage, and we enjoy riding
in it very much. A great many little girls and myself -,: rr-,,: ,C
a fair. It is to be held on the 25th of this month, ,..i i ,,r ..
shall enjoy it very much. Will you please make me a Bird-defender?
-Yours truly, SUSIE B. WARING.

Yonkers, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like you very much. I think the "Boy
r.Fm;:. ..." is the nicest story. I have a goat, and I am going to
*I .,, ,i .. m, for $20. We have a pond. Yesterday I found a duck's
egg in the water. I am eleven years old. I have a donkey, and a
cart, and I drive my sister to school and back.-Good by, from
JAMES A. WARING.


Boys and girls who write to ST. NICHOLAS and sign only their
initials, must not expect their letters to receive attention. When we
print letters, we often use only the initials of the writer, but the full
name should be sent to the editor with the letter.


742


[SEPTEMBER,






THE RIDDLE-BOX.


THE RIDDLE-BOX.


TRANSPOSITIONS.

:. THE witch was accused of- cattle through her influence.
2. Can you find a orange on one of the ? 3. I think the
Mexican's was of --. 4 My horse appears to have a -
pain in his 5- Those figures in colored will deeply
into your 6. Was her correct with regard to his ? 7.
You cannot the fact that he all that is needful. 8. He per-
fectly me about sending him some Egyptian 9. The -
used was, that she sang like a ao. As he the ancient- ,
-the danced in the sunlight. Ix. He returns by one who -
him now the cup and the I sent him, which, of course, -
our former ties. 12. I cannot the name on this RnTH.

REBUS.




ZL 00/L /1 LZO / eZ a

&:




&& 15-

ENIGMA.

HERE combine
Letters nine,
To name a city of our lard,
By Eastern breezes fanned.
8, 7, 6, 9 has a wider fame,
A higher and more ancient name,
And boasts the 4, 5, 1, 9, 8 river,
Which through it pours its waters ever.
3, 5, 6, 2 a wider view
May boast, and harder earthquakes too;
But our good city, fair and bright
In its own and strangers' sight,
Where, in 6, 2, 8, i, 3, 9,
Tall, grateful piles uprising shine,
Need envy none
Beneath the sun.
'T is a bustling, great 6, 2, 8, 4,
Where many a i, 2, 3, 9 goes,
And as a river flows,
Hastening by 1, 7, 2, 4,
Or 8, 2, 5, 3, with loud roar,
To find an entrance or an exit door.
And now, without 6, 7, 8, 9,
Declare by name this city fine. OswY.


WORD-SQUARE.
My first is a kind of solemn music. My second is to revere. My
third is a girl's name. My fourth is sound. My fifth are both useful
and ornamental. L. B. H.
RIDDLE.
COLOR green am I, and lie
Quiet in my garden-bed;
Let me hit you as I fly,
And I stain you color red.
Wood or iron, black or blue;
I am musical or dumb;
Many shapes; of every hue:
But as hollow as a drumfl. SOPHIE MAY.

EXCEPTIONS.
r. FROM the name of a certain kind of book except the middle
letter and leave a mineral. 2. From a word of three letters except the
second and leave a preposition. 3. Except the third letter from a
garland and leave rage. 4. Except the middle letter from a native
of a certain city in Europe and leave a color. 5. Except the third
letter from the name of an animal and leave a pipe. 6. From the
name of a favorite flower except the third letter and leave a female
animal. 7. From an article of furniture except the middle letter and
leave a story. M. s.


BEHEADED RHYMES.
THREE merry'boys, they built a-
That looked a little like a-
They manned it well, both fore and -
Then started for a sail.
There came just then an evil -
Near and more near the boat, when
He, splashing round their little -
Upset it with his tail!
So he these merry boys did -
Which was to them a bitter--
Indeed they took it very --
And thus at him did rail:
" 0 wicked one, who gave the -
That laid our hopes and pleasures -
A grudge to you we surely -
But 't is of no avail;
" For spread around you is a -
That holds you safe from every -
You have no fear of mortal-
And so we make our wail."

ILLUSTRATED PROVERB.


A. M.


REMAINDERS. .

BEHEAD and curtail three times words having the following signi-
fications, and leave one of the United States.
i. Things of little importance. 2. Shaped or modeled. 3. From
end to end. 4. Attics. 5. One of the subdivisions of mute letters.
6. The scepter of the God of the Sea. 7. More renowned or impor-
tant. IVANHOE.
DOUBLE CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.
MY first is in truth, but not in lie; '
My second is in heath, but not in sky;
My third is in even, but not in night;
My fourth is in clear, but not in white;
My fifth is in eight, but not in two;
My sixth is in toad, but not in gnu; '
My seventh is in stand, but not in lie:
My eighth is in sell, but not in buy; '. "
My ninth is in Charles, but not in Bill;
My tenth is in Bob, but not in Will;
My eleventh is in goose, but not in whales; ANAGRAMS.
My twelfth is in Xerxes, but not in Phales.
Read this right, and you will view i. MAO traitors sin. 2. Green meats. 3. Nip nose. 4. Spice pa-
Two things that are liked by you. CYRIL DEANE. rent. 5. On, Snipe 6. Re-gag Tom. CYRIL DEANE.


1876.]


743






THE RIDDLE-BOX.


PICTURE PUZZLE.
(Good Advice.)


DOUBLE DIAGONAL PUZZLE.

SWEET songs my first bring every year,
My second will. two-celled appear;
My third is in the court-room found,
And sometimes does my fourth all around.
'T were well if but my fifth might fall
With justice on the heads of all;
My sixth a trait to shun we hold,
My next in value is untold;
My eighth a workman is of skill,
My ninth will wait upon your will.

Diagonals from left to right,
A home for birds, secure and light.
When read from right to left, you'll find
An enviable state of mind.


J. P. B.


HOUR-GLASS PUZZLE.

To be read in four directions. T. From left to right, downward
and across, relating to the tides. a. From right to left, downward
and across, a dipper. 3. Centrals, downward, a command. 4. First
line across, to sing; second line across, a man's name; third line
across, a consonant; fourth line across, a meadow; fifth line across,
a town in New Hampshire. CYRIL DEANE.


DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
I. AN adjective whereby our relish is expressed.
2. Another, meaning graceful, stylish or well dressed.
3. A stately tree, of which the leaves are broad, the wood is white.
4. Deceitful phantom, fitful lights, oft followed in the night.
5. A term sometimes applied to Frenchy customs, words or deeds.
6. A poison slow on which the Oriental dreamer feeds.
7. A city of a government, close neighbor to our own.
8. A name connected with a cave formed of basaltic stone.
9. A very grateful shield from rain or from the sultry sun.
ao. A word which means light-giving; now guess it every one.
In terminals you 'll read the name
Of one, an ever-welcome guest.
In primals, too, with loud acclaim,
He's hailed by those who love him best.
HERVEY DARNEAL.

DOUBLE DIAMOND PUZZLE.
AcRoss: I. A vowel. 2. A large Australian bird. 3. The procla-
mation in a church of an intended marriage. 4. Ridiculed or treated
with contempt. 5. First attempt or appearance. 6. Owed. 7. A
consonant.
DowN: I. A consonant. 2. The channel of a river. 3. Having
ears. 4. A conveyance. 5. Out of place, improper. 6. To.place.
7, A consonant. IVANHOE.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN AUGUST NUMBER.


CONCEALED DOUBLE ACRosTIc.-Croquet, Boating.
C -o- B
R -ome- O
O-meg- A
Q -ui- T
U -r- I
E -ar- N
T -a- G
INCOMPLETE SENTENCES.-i. Grace, race. 2. Price, rice. 3.
Sold, old. 4. Easter, aster. 5. Bride, ride. 6. Table, able. 7.
Where, here.
SQUARE-WORD.- ARRO W
REACH
RATHER
OCHER
WHERE
METAGRAM.-Bake, cake, hake, lake, make, rake, sake, take.
A LITTLE STORY.-Augusta, Salem, Fall River, Norfolk, Hart-
ford, Washington, New Haven, Dover, Richmond, Toledo, Lowell,
Little Rock, Brooklyn, Bangor, Indianapolis, Buffalo, Madison,
Raleigh, Omaha, Mobile, Oswego, Portland, Cleveland, Frankfort,
Springfield.
CHARADE.-Penitent.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA.-The Bird-defenders.
CROSS-woRD ENIGMuA.-Washington.


DOUBLE DIAMOND PUZZLE.- R
HER
ROB IN
ROMULUS
BESET
RED
S
BEHEADED SYLLABLES.-i. Director, rector. Accurate, curate.
3. Administer, minister.
DIAGONAL PUZZLE COTTON
G SINGER
NUT MEG
C H ERRY
M A N 1 0 c
BANYAN
DOUBLE AcRosTIC.-Ivanhoe, Marmion.
I -nfor- M
V-ictori-A
A -i- R
N -y- M
H -ayt- I
O -hi- O
E -nsig- N
PICTORIAL ENIGMA.-Desolation: Seal, onen,Don, slate, sled, net,
onset, lane, old, sea, sale, nest, stone, oats, lion, ten.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN JULY NUMBER were received, previous to July 15, from Willie Dibblee, J. D. Early, "Jupiter, Juno and
Apollo," Arthur B., Howard Steele Rogers, Gertrude Weller, Ernest W. Ford, Elsie Thalheimer, Isabelle B. E. Nichols, Fred Wright,
Nettle A. Ives, Frieda E. Lippert, Helen Green and Bessie McLaren, Arthur W. Osbom, Nessie E. Stevens, Lizzie L. Green, "Flora,"
David P. Arnold, Jr., Nellie Emerson, Ora Dowty, Golden Eagle," A. J. Lewis, Mab," B. O'H., Agnes M. Hodges, "Miantinomi and
Narragansett," Aline H. Merriam, Arthur Rogers, Minnie D. B., Eddie H. Eckel, "Roderick," Robert L. Groendycke, Amy Hodges,
Mamie Baldwin, Katie T. Hughes, Iras and Bertha Wolfe, Lester Woodbridge, Brainerd P. Emery, Alice B. Moore, "Alex," Arnold Guyot
Camerono C. W. Hornor, Jr., "Brazilian and Cuban Danse." H. B. Lathrop, Belle Evans, John R. Eldridge, Edith Lowry, Belle Gibson.


744


[SEPTEMBER.


1




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