Front Cover
 The artist-soldier
 The sandhopper jig
 Clever Joe
 The Indian girl and her messen...
 "Festina Lente"
 Stars and daisies - A talk about...
 The first party
 Pattikin's house
 The crafty fox
 The stars in February
 A valentine
 His own master
 Tragedy - The Peterkins at the...
 Rain, hail, snow
 Jim and the water-melon (picture)...
 The faces of fishes
 The adopted chicken
 Two kittens
 The naughty doll
 Harum scarum (words and music)
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover


St. Nicholas, vol. 4, no. 4
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00044
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas, vol. 4, no. 4
Series Title: St. Nicholas.
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: -c1943.
Subjects / Keywords: Literature for Children
Genre: Children's literature
serial   ( sobekcm )
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: notis - ocm0176
oclc - 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
oclc - (DLC) 2006255186; 55136171
System ID: UF00065513:00044


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Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    The artist-soldier
        Page 233
        Page 234
    The sandhopper jig
        Page 235
    Clever Joe
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
    The Indian girl and her messenger-bird
        Page 244
    "Festina Lente"
        Page 245
        Page 246
    Stars and daisies - A talk about canaries
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
    The first party
        Page 254
    Pattikin's house
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
    The crafty fox
        Page 261
        Page 262
    The stars in February
        Page 263
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
    A valentine
        Page 267
    His own master
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
    Tragedy - The Peterkins at the centennial
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
    Rain, hail, snow
        Page 279
    Jim and the water-melon (picture) - Esther, the flower-girl
        Page 280
        Page 281
    The faces of fishes
        Page 282
        Page 283
    The adopted chicken
        Page 284
        Page 285
    Two kittens
        Page 286
    The naughty doll
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 289
    Harum scarum (words and music)
        Page 290
        Page 291
    The letter-box
        Page 292
        Page 293
    The riddle-box
        Page 294
        Page 295
        Page 296
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text




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[Copyright, 1877, by Scribner & Co.]



EVERY American boy has read.the story,-has
heard how the great fort on the Hudson so nearly
fell into the hands of the enemy. The British war-
ships had crept up the river, and lay at anchor,
still and gloomy, while the Americans manned the
forts, anxious and watchful. At West Point the
sentinels paced up and down, up and down, all
the long days and nights, that none might come
near to take away the fort and destroy the hopes
of the country. All this was in the fall of 1780,
and our fortunes were low, and many thought the
long and weary war soon would come to a sad and
bitter end.
One night, a boat crept down the river and ap-
proached the war-ship "Vulture," at anchor near
Dobb's Ferry. There was one passenger in the
boat, and when they rowed up to the black sides
of the ship, he got out and went on board. After
some delay, he returned to the boat, and took with
him a young man, a British officer. Silently the
boat crept over the dark water toward the.west-
ern shore, as if seeking to.make a landing in the
The sentinel, poor, ill-clad, and sorrowful for
his country, might pace the bleak parapets, clasp
his cold musket, and watch-and watch in vain.
His commander was not in his quarters. None
knew where he had gone; but far down the river
he hid himself among the fir-trees, as if waiting
for some one. The boat crept nearer and nearer
through the calm, still night. At last, it broke in
among the bushes on the water-side. The two
passengers got out and climbed the wooded bank,
and the boatmen, weary with their labors, lay down
VOL. IV.--6.

in their boat and soon fell asleep. The British
officer soon found some one waiting for him among
the trees. So they two met, Major Andre and
Benedict Arnold, secretly in the night, because
their deeds were evil.
You know all the rest. How Andr6 and Arnold
went to a house not far away, and there arranged
the miserable bargain. Money and rank for the
traitor, the fort and all its arms and soldiers for the
British. Not at once and, without a fight, but as
soon as they chose to come and take it; for the
great chain in the river was broken, the fort was
torn down in places, the guns were turned away,
and everything was ready for an easy capture.
Then you remember the morning came, and a
party of Americans on the shore began to fire on
the Vulture," and the ship was obliged to slip
her anchor and drift away on the tide. Andre saw
it all from the.window of the house, and his heart
sank within him, for it was his only hope of escape.
He was within our lines and liable to capture at
any moment. He made.an effort to.get on board
the ship, and it, was useless. Then, you remem-
ber, the flight across the river and the journey in
disguise toward New York, and, at last, the capt-
ure. And that was the end ; it was all found out,
and Andre was taken away, a prisoner, to the
American head-quarters. Arnold escaped on board
the "Vulture," and sailed away in. safety and dis-
grace. Andre was tried as a spy and was executed
on the second of October. Finally, so late as the
year 1821, his remains were taken to England, and
now they sleep in Westminster Abbey.
Such is the story as we commonly read it, but it


No. 4.


tells nothing of Andre himself. It tells nothing of
the manner of man he was, how he looked, how he
dressed, and what he said and did. Here is a
picture of him, not as a soldier, for his sword is
laid on the drum, and he has dropped a glove on
the floor and is writing a letter. No, making a
picture-a pen-and-ink sketch of himself from his
likeness in the mirror. Look at the curious fashion
in which, like other men of his day, he fastened his
hair behind with a ribbon. And his ruffled shirt
and cuffs, and the military boots and spurs. He
seems half soldier, half artist, and that must be the
reason they used to call him the artist-soldier.
We read of him as the spy. He was one at the
time of his death, but that he believed to be his
military duty; he tried to serve his king as well as
he could, and perhaps we cannot blame him so
very much, even if we did punish him so sadly.
He was something else than a mere spy, and it is
more agreeable to think of him as an artist than a
soldier. He did not love war as some soldiers do,
and while in this country he many times tried to
soften the hardships and troubles of the times.
Once he found a poor little boy who had been
captured by the British soldiers in Westchester
County, and brought to New York to be put into
the dreadful prisons the British then kept in our
city. Such a little fellow could do no harm, and
Andre took him away from the soldiers and sent
him back to his mother in safety.
Besides painting and drawing, Andr6 could sing,
and make charming verses, and cut out portraits in
silhouette. Many of his pictures and letters are
still preserved, and could you read the letters, you
would see that he was a genial, lively, and enter-
taining man. While he was in this country he kept
a journal, and, it is said, it was full of pictures of
plants and insects and animals, people and places,
bits of scenery, and plans of cities and towns. He
used often to give his pictures away as presents to
his friends; and once, when he was a prisoner in
our hands, and was sent to Lancaster, Pennsylvania,
for safety, he taught the children in the village to
draw. One of the Lancaster boys pleased him so
much, and displayed so much talent, that Andr6
offered to make an artist of him, and to take him
to England when the war was at an end. The
boy's father would not consent to this, though he
was pleased to think the English officer should take
so much interest in his son. The prisoners were
afterward removed to Carlisle, and Andr6 had to
leave his pupil. He did not forget him, for he
afterward wrote a letter to the boy's father, in which
he said that the boy "must take particular care in
forming the features in faces, and in copying the
hands exactly. He should now and then copy
things from the life, and then compare their pro-



portions with what prints he may have, or what
rules he may remember."
All this was during the war, and Andr6 himself
was an enemy; but we can hardly think of him in
that way. He regretted all the troubles of the
times, and, unlike his brother officers, he never
called us "the rebels," but "the colonists." Even
to this day, his letters and little pictures, his sil-
houette portraits, and sketches and verses are pre-
served in some families in remembrance of the
kind, merry, and cultivated English gentleman
whom we now call Major Andre, the spy.
When he was exchanged, he went back to the
British army stationed at Philadelphia, and there
he again displayed his many talents. He painted
a drop-scene for the theater that was thought to be
very fine, and they said of it that the foliage was
uncommonly spirited and graceful." He also wrote
verses to be recited in the theater, and even took
part in the plays. Once there was a grand pageant
in Philadelphia-a water procession on the Dela-
ware, with gayly trimmed boats, and bands of
music, and ladies in fancy costumes-all ending in
a grand ball. Andre took an active part in all
these pleasurings, designed the costumes for the
ladies, wrote verses, and helped to put up the
All this happened when our poor and discouraged
troops were having a sad time of it, waiting and
watching for a chance to strike a blow for the
country. At last, the British were obliged to leave
Philadelphia. Andr6 went away with them to New
York, and it was there that he received the com-
mission to treat with Arnold for the surrender of
West Point, and that only ended in his capture
and sad death.
Look at the picture again. See the old Colonial
furniture and the face in the little glass. It is said
to be a good likeness of Andre; he often made
pictures of himself for his friends, and many of
them were preserved long after he died. On the
last day that he lived he drew his own portrait
from memory with a pen,-that is, without the aid
of a mirror,-and the picture is still in existence.
While in New York, just before he went up to
see General Arnold, he made several silhouette
portraits of ladies who then lived there, and all
were said to be remarkably correct likenesses, and
were, of course, greatly prized afterward as the
work of the young, genial, and light-hearted British
Those Revolutionary days are now very old, and
the handsome English gentleman has been dead
long, long years. We can forgive his efforts against
us now, and perhaps it will be more agreeable to
think of him as the artist-soldier rather than the
spy at West Point.




SAID a Shrimp to a Sandhopper, one summer's day
(They were -1'!:... along the beach):
" I am told that you dance in a wonderful way;
Pray, would you be willing to teach ?"

And up in the air he proceeded to jump,
While the Hermit Crab shouted Hurrah "
And old Mr. Lobster applauded so hard,
He broke off his handsomest claw.

-' ;

~i- ~



" Quite willing, my dear," Sandhopper replied, My stars !" cried the children of good Mrs.
As merry and pert as a grig; Shrimp;
" Call your little ones here, and I'11 show 'em the We none of us, little or big,
steps Could learn, we are sure, the very high jumps
Of the rollicking Sandhopper Jig." Of the rollicking Sandhopper Jig.

All alone must you hop your remarkable hops."
Said Mr. Sandhopper, "I will."
And I have n't a doubt, if you go to the beach,
You will find him there frolicking still.

-- --


== ,




-.. "ER so long ago, there was a
qI' country, and that country had
.T a king, and that king had a
lovely little daughter whose
name was the Princess Gay.
This name had been chosen
for the princess by her god-
S'-- I mother, who was a fairy, be-
cause, even when a baby,
S Princess Gay was never seen
-'--'..' without a smile upon her
face, two dimples in her rosy
S'' .. cheeks, and another in her
chin. In those days, too, the
king was so happy that he
might with equal propriety have been called King
Gay. He was good-natured always, and beamed
so with fun that his courtiers and servants, down
to the least scullions, beamed also, as if to keep
him company. Nothing was to be heard in the
palace but laughter and jests, and the giving of
conundrums. Melancholy persons, and those
afflicted with a passion for gloomy reading and
blue-pills, used to be brought by their friends and
set under the windows, in hopes that the joyous
frolic going on inside might prove contagious and
cure them. And all over the world the land had
the reputation of being the jolliest in existence and
the pleasantest to live in.
This was when Princess Gay was a baby. Be-
fore she had grown to be sixteen, all this charming
state of things was ended. The king had become
crusty, cross, and subject to fits of violent rage.
The courtiers were sullen and frightened, the ser-
vants scarcely dared speak above a whisper. No
more cases of melancholy were brought to the palace
windows for cure, and a gloom lay over the land.
Shall I tell you the reason of this sad change ? Ah,
how truly is it written that the love of money is the
root of all evil! The reason was that the king's
treasury, in which he stored all his valuables, had
been robbed, and had kept on being robbed day
and night; how, nobody could discover.
New locks were put on the doors, new bars on
the windows, the police were instructed to watch
the palace, guards were set, the king himself staid
up all night, but nothing made any difference. The
treasury continued to be robbed, and its contents
dwindled so fast, that there was danger, if the
thieves were not stopped, that the king would soon
be poorer than his own subjects. It is scarcely to

be wondered at if, under these circumstances, the
court ceased to be a merry one, and if all its in-
mates forgot how to smile. All, that is, except the
Princess Gay, whose charming nature carried her
through all sorts of trouble without a shadow. She
laughed and joked, petted her gloomy father, com-
forted him as well as she could for his losses, and
every day mounted her little strawberry-red pony,
and went forth for a ride in the fresh air, to revive
her own spirits for the task, daily growing more
difficult, of keeping up an appearance of cheerful-
ness in the dismal circle which surrounded her.
The palace was built upon a hill, and at the foot
of the hill was a baker's shop, behind which, in a
small house, lived the baker, his wife, and their son,
a youth of seventeen. This youth, though honest
and industrious, had the reputation of being very
stupid; so the neighbors, out of derision, had named
him Clever Joe. Stupid though he was, Clever
Joe had eyes in his head, and he used those round
blue eyes very hard indeed every day when the
lovely little princess rode past the shop on her
pony. She seemed to him like a vision of fairy-
land,-so gay, so beautiful, so very, very happy.
His gaze followed her as long as she was in sight,
and he thought about her all the time he was
kneading his loaves or mixing the ginger-nuts, for
which the shop was famous.
How delightful it must be, being a princess !"
he said one day.
"I don't know about princesses," replied his
mother, "but it is n't particularly nice being a
king,-not when he's like our king, at least. He
frets so over his money, and the thieves that steal
it, that he can hardly eat or sleep. Better be a
baker, and keep your appetite, say I."
How queer that a king should fret! sighed
Clever Joe, opening his eyes wide with wonder at
the idea.
Stupid people when they fall in love sometimes
grow clever. Joe was in love with Princess Gay,
though you have probably guessed that already,
because, being a princess, somebody must fall in
love with her, and as Joe's name heads this story,
of course he is the hero of it. Yes, Clever Joe was
in love. He meditated on the princess all day and
dreamed about her all night. His romantic soul
longed for occupations more congenial than the
making of household bread and two-penny twists;
so he invented a new kind of cream-cake, or tart,
with a dab of quince jelly in the middle, around



i877.] CLEVER JOE.

which rose walls of paste white as snow, brushed
over with egg, and flavored with cinnamon and
lemon. Such tarts were never seen before in the
kingdom. First, the common people tasted and
approved, next the mayor of the city got hold of
one, smacked his lips and ordered a dozen, and
gradually the servants of the palace fell into the
habit of coming down the hill to buy them. "The
Crown-Princess Tart," was the fine name Joe in-
vented for these dainties, and as they grew in favor,
his father, the baker, rubbed his hands and proph-
esied that fame and fortune were about to de-
scend on the family, and all because of his Clever
One cay, when, having missed two gold cups and
*a bag of money out of his treasury which were
there when he locked up the night before, the king
was unusually cross, and the courtiers in conse-
quence unusually low-spirited, Princess Gay came
upon her waiting-maid, seated in a corner and
smacking her lips over some article which she
seemed to be enjoying very much. She jumped
up hastily when she saw her mistress, and hid the
thing, whatever it was, under her apron.
"You seem to have something nice there," said
the princess good-naturedly. May I inquire what
it is ?"
Only a tart, please your royal highness; one
of the new tarts which are just now so fashionable."
"And pray what are they? I never heard of
them before."
Oh I beg your royal highness's pardon for
saying 'oh,' but it is so queer that you should not
have heard of them before Why, they are named
after your royal highness; Crown-Princess Tarts'
is what the baker calls them. They are the most
wonderful and delicious tarts ever made on earth,
your highness."
Really? You excite my curiosity. I must
taste these tarts. Please send or go at once to the
shop and get one for me."
"One I beg your royal highness's pardon, I
am sure, but one would never satisfy your royal
highness at all. They melt away in your mouth
just like nothing, please your highness. I could
eat two dozen of them myself! "
I could n't," said the princess. That is, I
think I could n't, though really, what with robbers,
and policemen, and worry and confusion, our meals
have been so irregular of late, and, I may say, so
bad, that I should really enjoy something nice.
Go, therefore, Beltira, and get two dozen of the
tarts, since you are sure that is the proper number.
I shall probably leave a few, and those will fall to
your share. Bring the tarts up here, and I '11 have
tea in my room. You can order the second equerry
to tell the first usher to ask the third lord of the

bedchamber to say to his majesty that I have a
headache to-night, and am not coming down."
Off went Beltira, gave her message and sped
down the hill to the baker's shop. You can fancy
Joe's feelings when informed that the princess was
going to try his tarts. His fingers trembled with
eagerness, he seized a piece of Swiss muslin and
with it dusted out the oven.
I '11 make a batch on purpose," he cried, and
bring them up myself at five o'clock."
When Beltira returned to the palace she found
it in great confusion. Another theft had been dis-
covered. The king was raging to and fro with a
spiked club in his hand, declaring that he would
brain the first ghost of a robber whom he came
across. The lord high treasurer had hidden him-
self, the courtiers had scuttled away like frightened
sheep. At the gates stood the guards, armed and
doubled, and a proclamation was pinned on the
front door which stated that not a soul was to
leave or enter the palace that night without being
And what will poor Joe do ?" thought Beltira,
"they will open his basket, and then I know well
what will happen, for those guards have a passion
for pastry Not a crumb will be left for the poor
princess-or myself, unless I can hit upon some
plan for getting the tarts in unnoticed."
Just then she recollected that in the princess's
work-basket was a little key which unlocked a small
garden gate, so hidden by rose-bushes that no one
would be likely to remember anything about it.
This key she easily smuggled into her pocket, and
at five o'clock, creeping out quietly, she unlocked
the gate, ran down the hill, met Joe coming up,
and laid hold of the handle of the precious basket.
Here," she said, I wont trouble you to come
any farther. In fact, you can't, for the king has
ordered that not a soul shall.be allowed to pass the
gates to-night. I '11 carry the cakes in, and you
shall have your basket again to-morrow and the
But," said Joe, keeping fast hold of his wares,
"I 've set my heart on handing the tarts to the
princess with my own hands. If I can't come in
to-night, I'll just carry my load home, and fetch
them up again in the morning."
Beltira peeped under the lid. The tarts were
smoking hot and smelt delightfully. "They wont
be fit to eat to-morrow," she thought to herself.
So she coaxed, and pleaded, and urged; she even
cried, but the obstinate Joe would not give up his
point. Either the crown-princess must take the
tarts from his own hands or she must go without
them; nothing could shake his resolution.
At last, Come along, then, you obstinate fel-
low," cried the girl. I shall lose my place if we


are caught, and you will lose your head. But no
matter; I'm not going to have my mistress disap-
pointed of her treat."
So in at the little gate and upstairs they crept,
treading softly that none should hear them. At
last they came to the private apartments of the
princess. They were grand rooms, tapestried with
satin and peacocks' feathers.
Joe had no eyes for anything but her royal high-
ness; and how he saved the basket of pastry from
falling out of his frightened hands he never could
She was indeed beautiful, in her blush-colored
satin wrapper, trimmed with pearls and garnets;
diamond necklaces, bracelet, and shoe-buckles, and
her crystal crown (for she only wore her gold one
out-of-doors) balanced artfully on one side of her
curly head. However, she smiled in such a wel-
come manner that Joe was very soon at his ease.
"May it please your royal highness," said Bel-
tira, "this stupid fellow would not give up his
cakes to any one but yourself, so I was forced to
bring him upstairs."
She locked the door as she spoke, for she was
mortally afraid that some one would come in, and,
producing a silver dish, attempted to open the
basket. But Joe waved her back and knelt at the
feet of the princess, and, lifting the lid, displayed
the tarts, arranged in two lines on a snow white
napkin. There were twenty-six, two bakers' doz-
ens, in all, and the savory smell which they sent
forth would have made a hermit hungry enough to
forget his vows.
The princess bent over them and gave a little
cry of surprise and delight. No wonder, for she
had never seen pastry like this before--nor, for that
matter, had any one else. Each tart was made
with jam of a different kind, and in each dab of jam
was traced in white sugar a letter, which, taking
the tarts in order, made up this sentence: "Peace
and joy to our all-beloved."
Still more curious, each tart was flavored with a
jam whose name began with the letter traced upon
it. Thus, p was peach, a apricot, b blackberry,
/ lemon, and so on. It was in fact a declaration
of love written in pie-crust; but the princess was
so hungry, and the cakes smelt so nice, that she
did not at first find out what they meant.
Beltira brought a plate and fork. The princess
seated herself at the table, and commencing with
the first letter, p, began to eat the tarts one after
another, while happy Joe stood by and rubbed his
hands. At the letter r in "our," which was fla-
vored with rose-juice, the princess stopped.
"You can have the rest, Beltira," she said,
rather faintly, for sixteen tarts at a time is a good
many for even a princess to eat.

Nothing loth, Beltira began her share, and as
she gobbled even faster than the princess, the last
crust soon vanished between her lips. But just as
she ended, and shook out the napkin,-whack !
bang came a terrible thump at the door. It was
the king, who, having been told by one of his spies
that a strange man with a basket had been seen
stealing down the corridor which led to the prin-
cess's rooms, had come, war-club in hand, to look
into the matter.
It's papa cried the princess, wringing her
It's his majesty! cried Beltira, wringing hers.
"What shall we do ? "
Let me in bellowed the king.
Yes, dear papa,-in one moment," faltered
Gay. Beltira, what is to be done with this poor
boy. We must hide him somewhere."
"Yes, but where?" replied Beltira, weeping
like a fountain. You can't stow away a great fel-
low seven feet long in a bandbox. I shall-lose-
my-place,-I know I shall. It's all your fault,
you horrid boy I told you how it would be."
"Let me in !" vociferated the king, with another
bang on the door. Crash went the panel; Joe saw
one of the spikes of the war-club come through,
and his flesh crept.
"The window!" whispered Gay. "Quick! I
am coming, dear papa; have patience !"-and she
moved toward the door. Like lightning Beltira flew
to the casement, opened it, pushed Joe out, closed
and re-bolted it; and, just as the king rushed into
the room, Joe alighted on the lid of the water-butt,
which, luckily, stood beneath the window and broke
his fall. He could hear the king raging over his
head, and demanding to know where was the thief,
the man with the basket; while Beltira loudly
declared that no such man had been there, and
the princess, with soft words, sought to soothe her
angry sire. Unluckily, his majesty, in his furious
career round the room, stumbled upon the baker's
basket, which Beltira had hidden behind the win-
dow curtain. The king glared at the inoffensive
object as though it had been a wild beast, and,
with one tap of his war-club, dashed it into bits,
while Beltira in vain protested that she could not
imagine how such a thing could get there. One
of the largest pieces of the basket flew through the
window, and in company with a goodly quantity of
broken glass, descended on Joe's head as he stood
on the water-butt beneath.
Terribly afraid that the king would next look out
and see him, he was about to fly, when a dozen
hoarse barks were heard, and into the court-yard
bounded as many huge mastiffs as big as calves.
The noise had aroused these ferocious watch-dogs
and brought them from their kennels.




," Well," thought Joe, one needs be clever, in-
deed, to escape now."
On came the dogs, and above, the king was
poking his head out of the window. There was
but one way of escape. Joe slipped into the water-
butt, and pulled the lid over his head. The mon-
arch looked out from above, but saw nothing.
Good dogs," cried he, at him-seize him : "
for the dogs were worrying the fragments of basket.
The king ordered lanterns, and went down to see
what they had caught. The dogs had torn the
napkin which had lined the basket into a thousand
bits; the king flattered himself that these were
pieces of the thief's clothing, and that the mastiffs
had eaten the rest of him up!
"But he may have confederates," said the kindly
sovereign; "so, to make sure, leave the pack in
the court-yard all night."
Joe's heart sank within him at this command,
and he settled deeper in the tank.
The water was ice-cold. It reached above his
waist, and made him so uncomfortable, that a little
after midnight, he could bear it no longer, and lift-
ing the lid of*the tank he peeped out. The dogs
spied him in a moment-ran at the tank, jumped
up, and tried to sieze him. To cool their ardor,
he joined his hands, filled them with water and
dashed it down their throats. This made the pack
sneeze and howl, till at last the disturbance reached
even to the king's bedroom and interrupted his
royal slumbers; at length he sent down to order
the dogs chained up at once. This was a great re-
lief to poor Joe, who had half emptied the butt in
defending himself from his canine enemies.
Early in the morning came the palace servants,
swept the mosaic floor of the court-yard clean, and
fetched out all sorts of rugs and carpets, which
they beat with long canes. The sound of the blows
were more terrible than even the howling of the
dogs to poor Joe, who cowered closer in his chilly
prison as he listened to them.
At last all went away save two, who were beating
a large and splendid carpet made of velvet, with an
embroidered pattern upon it of all sorts of gems.
It was, in fact, the best carpet of the palace, and
was kept for the floor of the state drawing-room,
and only used when other kings came to tea. Joe
was just thinking whether it would not do to appear
and throw himself upon the mercy of these men,
when, looking about to see if they were observed,
they drew from their pockets a couple of sharp
knives, and working fast, cut from the jeweled car-
pet some long, narrow strips, which they wound
round their waists under their clothes.
"Aha!" thought Clever Joe, "I begin to see
which way the king's property goes. However,
it's no use to cry stop, thief! at present, those

knives look quite too well ground to make it safe to
do that. But I shall remember their faces, and the
time may come when it will do to give the king
a warning."
The two men went away together, probably to
hide their plunder, and Joe took the opportunity to
climb out of the tank. He was so stiff from his
long soaking in the cold water that he could hardly
stand, far less walk. There was no time to exer-
cise his limbs, however-all he could do was to
seek another hiding-place, and this he found in
the heart of the roll of carpet, stowing himself away
all the quicker, from the fact that one of the mas-
tiffs, spying him from his kennel, began to bark
furiously, and tug as though he would break his
chain. In fact, he did break it, but Joe was safe in
the carpet, and the servants coming back just then,
and seeing the dog capering to and fro, and the
traces of water on the pavement, fell upon the ani-
mal and thrashed him soundly. Then they took
up the carpet and carried it in-doors.
This is a clever way to get out of the palace, I
must say," observed Joe to himself, creeping from
the roll the moment he was left alone.
Beyond the state drawing-room was another
magnificent apartment, where stood a table spread
for the king's breakfast. The sight of food was too
much for Joe after his long fast. He soon made
such havoc with the viands generally, that in a few
minutes scarcely enough was left to satisfy a fly.
At that moment, .while still a cup was in his
hand and a last mouthful of ham-and-egg between
his lips, a blast of trumpets was heard and a voice
in the passage outside cried:
Make way, ladies and gentlemen of the court,
make way for his majesty the king and her high-
ness the princess royal, coming to breakfast!"
In another moment the king and the whole court
entered the room.
His majesty's first exclamation was of dismay
over the disappearance of the breakfast; his next
of wrath, for he spied Joe.
"Who is this villain?" he cried, guards, se-
cure him !"
The guards, ten at a time, secured poor Joe,
who was too stupefied to move.
Well, abominable miscreant, detestable marau-
der," began the king, in a tone not calculated to
set any prisoner at ease, what business brought
you here ?"
Joe's mouth opened. He was about to utter the
truth when, suddenly, he caught sight of the prin-
cess's face, very pale, and looking so terrified that
he changed his mind and told the first lie that came
into his head.
I am the robber who has stolen your majesty's
treasure," he replied.



"Wretch!" said the king, purple with rage,
"where have you hidden your ill-gotten gains?
Who are your confederates? Confess all at once !
Off with his head, guards off with his head "
"But, papa," whispered the princess, "if you
take off his head, he can't confess."
"True!" said the king. "Don't off with his
head, guards, till further orders. So you are the
robber, fellow, eh?"
"Exactly;" said Joe, "but I am not the two
robbers who are stealing your majesty's best car-
pet piecemeal.
Oh, are not you? Then, pray, who is?"
That is telling," said Joe, shaking his head
wisely, with a side glance at the dishonest servants,
who turned pale as they stood among the rest.
Neither threats nor bribes could make Joe say
more, so at last the king ordered him to the deep-
est dungeon in the palace, "for his impudence,"
as his majesty remarked. He had the consolation
of a little grateful look from Princess Gay as the
guards led him off; likewise, he had secured a
breakfast, which was something pleasant to think of.
And though he was not aware of it, his answers
to the king had really been clever. For in the
middle of the night, as he lay soundly sleeping in
his dungeon, the door opened, and two men stole
in. These men were the dishonest servants.
"Hush," said one of them. Speak low. You
are a good fellow not to give up our names to the
king. He would have our ears if he guessed that
we were the thieves."
I fancy he would," said Joe. So it will be
well for you to leave the palace before I am exam-
ined in the morning, you know."
Oh, we don't want to leave the palace. There
is some excellent picking and stealing here still,
and we prefer to stay awhile longer. You shall
leave the palace instead; that will do quite as
We will give you a chance to escape."
"That's very kind, I'm sure. But I shall be
going away with less than I came in with," said
Joe, thinking of his basket and his napkin.
The thieves whispered together.
"Well, then," said one, "since nothing else
will content you, you shall have a peep at the
Treasury yourself, and as much plunder as you can
carry off, provided you will clear out at once, and
never come back. Do you agree? "
"'Yes," said Joe. "But how will you manage
about the guard? He comes every half hour to
the door, and I have to answer, that he may know
I am here. One of you will have to take my place
and reply to him for an hour or so, till I am safely

"Very well, Buglecord, you stay. Come along,
my fine fellow. Oh, your chains? We '11 soon rid
you of these; and the thief cut the fetters loose
with a pair of nippers. "Make haste," he went
on. "I '11 come back and let you know, Buglecord,
as soon as he's gone."
So the thief and the baker's son left the dungeon
noiselessly. As they passed out of the door, Joe
felt for the bolt, and quietly shot it into its staple,
unperceived by his companion. By many winding
ways, upstairs and down-stairs they went, and at
last came to the Royal Treasury. There were the
guards, bolts, bars, man-traps and signals, all in
their proper places; but what good did they do?
for the old thief simply touched a spring, and up
went one of the big marble flags of the pavement,
letting them in as easily as possible. Joe stood in
the middle of the treasure-chamber, with his eyes
almost popping out of his head for wonderment at
the store of gold and silver vessels, coin, and other
precious things. It seemed to him that all the
thieves in the world might come there daily and
steal and steal, and still there would be no end to
the riches of the place.
Hurry hurry said the thief, impatiently.
"I don't know what to choose," said Joe, still
staring about him.
Oh, well, get down upon the ladder by which
we entered, and I '11 hand you the things," said
the thief, chuckling over Joe's silliness.
So Joe stood on the ladder under the trap-door,
and the thief began to pass down the articles which
were the least valuable, but which he thought good
enough for such a stupid youth as Joe. Joe
received a few things, then, while the other's back
was turned, he softly lowered the flag-stone and
made it fast on his side. The thief, perceiving
that he was entrapped, beat on the stone and
implored Joe to release him; but Joe went his
way chuckling; for the funny part was, that the
robber dared not raise his voice above a whisper,
for fear of rousing the guards'outside the door.
Joe hid his booty in his pockets, all except one
silver cup. With this in hand, he boldly marched
up to the first sentinel he met.
"Hush !" he said. "Here's your share for
keeping quiet."
The man stared; but supposing that Joe was a
new-comer added to the band of robbers, he said
nothing, and allowed him to pass unmolested.
They were close to an old chimney, and hastily
rubbing his hand upon the soot, Joe made a mark
on the back of the fellow's uniform, that he might
know him again if he had the chance. Thus he
went on, doing the same to each guard he met,
till he reached the gate, where he emptied his
pocket in paying the porter. To each man who




received his bribe he applied his blackened hand
as he passed; and once out of the palace, he took
to his heels and ran down the hill toward home.
Early as it was, the baker and his journeymen
were already up and kneading bread.
Joe rushed in, wild with excitement.
"All of you come here," he cried, "and do
exactly as I say, and we shall make our fortunes."
How? What do you mean?" they demanded,
crowding about him.

helped themselves to out of a neighboring field,
the procession rode solemnly up to the palace, and
Joe, giving a thundering rap on the knocker,
desired the porter to inform the king that the
renowned wizard Baricold Maxmaxfarogafarmax,
Duke of Shadows and Master of the Night, desired
the honor of an immediate audience.
The king, much impressed with this message,
made haste to receive the sage in his sleeping-
chamber, clapping on a crown over his night-cap,


1.1: I ,

4I-' -

%A -



"Ask no questions, but do as I say," was all
the reply Joe would make; but so earnest and
decided was his air, that they obeyed, and did as
he directed, without farther delay.
What he directed was, that each man should
dress himself in some outlandish way at once.
Some of them wrapped themselves in sheets, others
in fur blankets; two or three who had old masks
put them on, and Joe himself improvised a hasty
costume out of flour-bags, which, being yellow let-
tered with red, had a very odd and fantastic appear-
ance. Then mounted on donkeys, which they

by way of grandeur, and sitting up on his pillows,
holding his scepter, which he always took to bed
with him, in his hand. Joe went at once to the
"Your majesty," he said, bowing profoundly
before the monarch, I am come to relieve you of
a great perplexity. No natural means will enable
you to discover the thieves who desolate your
treasury; but I, the great Baricold Maxmaxfaroga-
farmax, I can, and I will."
"Will you, really, Mr. Barifaxicomaxy ? cried
the overjoyed king, leaping up and falling on the


neck of the baker's son. "Heaven indeed has
sent you. I have been at my wit's end about those
same thieves. Rid me of them, and take what
you will, even to a quarter of my kingdom."
"Your majesty," replied the sorcerer in a majes-
tic tone, "I don't want a quarter of your king-
dom. I would n't have it if I might. I want only
one single thing within your majesty's power to
grant, and that thing I must have, or the thieves
must go on thieving."
And what is that? inquired the king, trembling
with impatience."
The hand of your beautiful daughter, the
Princess Gay," replied Joe, with a magnificent
"Well," said the king, who, much as he loved
the child, loved money better, and was delighted
that the magician's views took this sentimental
turn, "my daughter's hand, eh? Well, it is a
bargain. Rid me of the robbers, and you shall
have her and welcome."
I must first trouble your majesty to put on
your clothes," observed Joe.
His majesty, who was usually something of a
dawdle, dressed with the speed of light.
"And now," observed Joe, to the dungeons."
He led the way, and pausing before the door of
that in which he had been himself confined, thus
addressed the king:
"The poor youth you shut up here was inno-
cent. By my magic art I have removed him, and
have put in his place one of the real culprits who
have robbed your majesty."
"What! cried the king, as the door opened;
one of my most trusted servants Oh, you vil-
lain, you monster of ingratitude and he hit him
such a rap with his scepter, that it echoed through
the vault. Put chains on him at once! roared
the king. "I vowed that the rogue should feel
the weight of my indignation, and he shall."
It was done.
"And now to the Treasury," said Joe.
When that door was opened, inside sat thief
number two, with his pocket-handkerchief at his
How did you get here ? demanded the king.
"Your majesty, I cannot tell," faltered the man.
"Perhaps I walked in my sleep. I used to as a
child "
I '11 walk you roared the irate king. "Pack
him off, guards, and serve him like the other
It was done.
"Now," proceeded Joe, "your majesty will
please have all your guards, sentinels, and porters
called in and caused to defile before me."
In they came, amazed and wondering.

By my magic art," said the wizard, I have
set a black mark between the shoulders of all
among these men who are confederates of the
gang who have so long plundered your Royal
Treasury. Right about face, my men; march for-
ward and let us see."
The guilty guards wriggled fearfully, and twisted
their heads nearly off in the attempt to catch a
glimpse of their own backs. All was in vain;
there were the fatal marks, and each in turn was
marched off to prison.
By this time, Princess Gay, beautiful as the
morning, had joined the group. The sorcerer,
with his false beard, red-and-yellow robes, and
pointed cap, made her shudder with fear; and
when the king, taking her hand, led her forward
and said, My daughter, behold your husband,"
she began to cry piteously.
Oh, no, no she sobbed, I cannot,-
indeed I cannot! "
Why not? demanded the king, knitting his
brows. The only possible pretext for disobeying
me would be a previous attachment, and I know
perfectly well there is nothing of that sort."
Oh, yes, there is cried the princess, at her
wit's end for an excuse. I have an attachment.
I love" (and she racked her brains to think of
some one), "I love-a boy who brought me
some cream-cakes yesterday. Lovely cream-cakes.
Never did I see their like. That boy is my
choice, and him only can I wed,"-for, thought
Gay to herself, "he is miles off by this time,
probably; and while they are searching for him, I
can invent some other excuse."
A baker's boy!" began the king, in his deepest
tones, but the magician plucked his sleeve.
"Your majesty, say nothing," he whispered.
" My art can compass even this miracle."
Saying this, he tore away his false beard, flung
his cloak of flour-bags aside, pulled the conical
cap from his head, and stood there in his proper
person, rosy and youthful.
The princess gave a scream. The king gave
Is it you ? said Gay.
Is it you ? demanded the king.
It is I," replied Joe, winking secretly at each.
The king joined their hands.
Be happy, my children said he.
And they were happy. Whether the princess
ever knew positively if her husband was wizard or
was baker's son, I cannot tell. Sometimes she
fancied him one, and sometimes the other. No
more money disappeared from the royal treasury.
The king recovered his temper, and the court its
merriment. Gay went on smiling, as befitted her
name; and she and Joe agreed admirably. One


thing was observable : on the anniversary of their
wedding-day, they always had a private frolic,
shut up in their own rooms, with only Beltira to
wait upon them. No one knew what was done on
these occasions; but the courtiers, listening at the

key-hole, used to hear a clinking of forks and
plates, and smell a strange, delicious fragrance,
which nobody could explain. Some persisted that
this fragrance was the smell of freshly-baked
cream-tarts. I wonder if it was ?

( \

.1^: ^






ONCE upon a time, there was an Indian who
lived in a big woods on the banks of a beautiful
river, and he did nothing all day long but catch
fish and hunt wild deer. Well, this Indian had
two lovely little daughters, and he named one Sun-
beam, because she was so bright and cheerful, and
the other he called Starlight, because, he said, her
sweet eyes twinkled like the stars.
Sunbeam and Starlight were as gay as butterflies,

and as busy as bees, from morning till night. They
ran races under the shady trees, made bouquets of
wild flowers, swung on grape-vine swings, turned
berries and acorns into beads, and dressed their
glossy black hair with bright feathers that beautiful
birds had dropped. They loved each other so much,
and were so happy together, that they never knew
what trouble meant until, one day, Starlight got
very sick, and before the big moon came over the
tree-tops, the sweet Indian child had closed her
starry eyes in death, and rested for the last time
upon her soft little deer-skin bed. And now, for
the first time, Sunbeam's heart was full of grief.

She could not play, for Starlight was gone, she
knew not where; so she took the bright feathers
out of her hair, and sat down by the river and cried
and cried for Starlight to come back to her. But
when her father told her that Starlight was gone to
the Spirit-land of love and beauty, and would be
happy for ever and ever, Sunbeam was comforted.
Now," said she, I know where darling Star-
light is, and I can kiss her and talk to her again."

i- .-i

Sunbeam had heard her people say that the
birds were messengers from the Spirit-land. So
she hunted through the woods until she found a
little song-bird, that was too young to fly, fast
asleep in its nest. She carried it gently home, put
it into a cage, and watched over it and fed it ten-
derly day after day until its wings grew strong and
it filled the woods with its music. Then she carried
it in her soft little hands to Starlight's grave; and
after she had loaded it with kisses and messages of
love for Starlight, she told it never to cease its
sweetest song or fold its shining wings until it had
flown to the Spirit-land. She let it go, and the



glad bird, as it rose above the tall green trees,
poured forth a song more joyful than any that
Sunbeam had ever heard. Higher and higher it
flew, and sweeter and sweeter grew its song, until
at last both its form and its music were lost in
the floating summer clouds.

Then Sunbeam ran swiftly over the soft grass
to her father, and told him, with a bright smile
and a light heart, that she had talked with dear
Starlight, and had kissed her sweet rosy mouth
again; and Sunbeam was once more her father's
bright and happy little Indian girl.



A SUMMONS from ST. NICHOLAS One of those
fresh and sincere voices, which seem to me to be
very truly characteristic of the New World, comes
across the three thousand miles of sea rolling and
leaping under these wild south winds. It reminds
me of certain good intentions of mine, of pledges
half given years ago, and never even half re-
deemed. It asks, not indeed for payment in full,
but for some small installment, some acknowledg-
ment of the debt, which will serve to prevent the
statute of limitations from running. It tells me of
a crowd of eager and bright young listeners, who
think I may have some word to say to them which
they want to'hear,-an eager, bright young crowd
of American boys, from nine to eighteen years of
age,-and asks if I can have the heart to refuse"
to say it.
Not I, indeed For I never had the heart to
refuse anything to such applicants. But how to
redeem my pledge-what word to say to such an
audience-how to reach the hearts of "the youth
that own the coming years in a land which is not
my own, though I can scarcely look on it as a
foreign land,-there lies the puzzle.
The sight of an ordinary crowd, we are told, is
-in England, at least-always a sad one, if you
take note of the expression of the faces in repose;
though it may be inspiring enough when any
strong wave of feeling is passing through or over
tl--. ... I should say, from my own experience, that
"" pathetic" rather than melancholy" is the true
i.._..1. even for a grown-up crowd, and it most cer-
tainly is with a crowd of boys. Who can help
being roused-and lifted out of the humdrum jog-
trot of the daily life of middle age when he gets in
touch with them-lifted, though it may be only for

a short hour or so, by the inspiring contact of over-
flowing health, and joy and hope, into the breezy,
buoyant atmosphere of early morning?

When all the world is young, lads,
And all the trees are green,
With every goose a swan, lads,
And every lass a queen,-
Then high for boot and horse, lads,
And round the world away!
Young blood must have its course, lads,
And every dog his day.

Yes, pathetic is the true word. For even while
looking on the young faces, and feeling the pulse
and inspiration of the dawn of life down to one's
finger ends, thoughts of another kind will crowd
up into the mind,-" thoughts that do often lie too
deep for tears,"-of beginnings cut short, of projects
abandoned, of designs marred, of expectations un-
But fair, and softly How soon one's pen runs
away with one These are not the words I meant
to say, or the thoughts I meant to suggest, to you,
the young readers of ST. NICHOLAS. You will
touch the pathetic side of life, all of you, soon
enough. Why should I thrust it on you before the
appointed hour?
Meantime I say, revel in the dawn. Rejoice in
your young strength and life ; aim high, and build
your castles like brave young architects, only taking
care to dig the foundations deep, and to lay them
with care and patience. Whether you will ever be
able to build on them such brave and lofty towers
and halls as you dream of now, matters compara-
tively little to you or your country. A thousand
accidents and chances will determine in the coming
years what the superstructure shall be,-accidents




and chances we call them for want of a better
name,-which you cannot control in the outset,
but which will bd controlled and settled for you.
What materials you will have to work with who
can say ? To one clay, to another wood, to another
marble, to another jewels and precious stones, will
be served out in the great workshop of the world.
You cannot make your choice; it will be made for
you. But this you can and may do, and should be
doing now: You can so prepare the ground and
the foundations, that whatever material shall come
to your hand hereafter, shall surely be made the
most of, and used in the best way; so that whether
you have to build marble palaces, or brick houses,
or log huts, the work shall be faithful and strong,
and fit to stand the stress of the wildest weather,
and the wear and tear of time.
What are these foundations but the principles
and habits which underlie the character of the
man, and which can only be laid to good purpose
by the boy ? Truthfulness, self-control, simplicity,
obedience,-these are the great corner-stones, to
be welded and bound together by the cement of
patience. If I had only one word to speak to my
boys," said one of the wisest and best educators of
our time, "it should be Patience, Patience, Patience,
over and over again." The world is getting into
such a feverish hurry, and we are going so fast,
that we are all in danger of missing the best things
in life-the common sights and sounds which lie by
the way-side on every stage of the journey, and no-
where in greater profusion than on the first stage.
This is our trouble, and likely to be more and more
the trouble of our children.
But, happily for us, our boys are the least affected
by the disease of any section of society. The upper-
school boy, unless he is a mere shiftless ne'er-do-
well (a very small section of any community), is,
as a rule, more than content with his daily life;
he is rejoicing and glorying in it. And his daily
life repays him with interest. He stands there, at
seventeen or eighteen, on the verge of manhood,-
a boy still in heart, full of enthusiasm and aspira-
tions, but with an intellect and body patiently
and carefully trained, looking hopefully to the next
step in life, but unwilling to hurry it,-the best
poised and most equally developed human creature,
take him all round, that our life can show. He has
not sold his birthright, and the grand morning
hours of life, when boyhood is maturing, have
passed slowly over him, leaving behind them a
bouquet and fragrance which will sweeten the com-
ing years, and a reserve of strength for the labor
and heat of the approaching midday.
Ah, your boy keeps his birthright, and ours
sells it for a very poor mess of pottage," writes
one American friend to me; while another says,

" You, in England, have a proverb, 'Boys will be
boys ;' ours should run just the other way, Boys
wont be boys,'-I wish to heaven they would, and
no one would grudge paying for broken glass and
Have you had any American boys under you ?"
I asked of one of the ablest English masters, who
has had great experience at two of our best public
Yes," he said, I have had several as pupils,
and have known a good many more; and nice,
clever fellows they were. Very like our own boys,
too, but older of their age, as a rule."
"Ah, you found it so!" I said. "I suppose
they did n't care so much for games. Is that what
you mean ? "
Well, partly so; but not exactly. They seemed
rather to endure than to enjoy their lives, not only
in the playing-fields, but in the schools. There
were several promising cricketers, for instance,
amongst them; but they did n't work at it as most
of our boys do, or get the same zest out of it.
And it was much the same with their school-work.
They did it because they were sent there to do it,
and did n't care to be left behind. But they
could n't throw themselves into the life with any
enthusiasm, and so lost much of the pleasure, as
well as the profit, of it."
But might n't that come from early associations
and training? Our boys have a world of their own
which is sufficient for them. To be captain of the
school, or of the eleven, or of bigside football, or
of the boats, is to be famous in that little world
which they have heard their big brothers talk of
ever since they were breeched. But an American
boy has not been reared in the traditions, and so
can't care so much for our boy's world. He feels
like an outsider at an English school."
Possibly. At any rate, it's a great loss, and
would hinder me from sending over a boy of mine
if I were an American."
What Not even to learn to write Greek and
Latin verses? I fancy that art is ignored on the
other side, and you know you think in your secret
soul that life must be a poor thing to a man who
can't amuse himself in a leisure half-hour by turn-
ing the last popular song into iambics, or longs
and shorts."
Well, so be it. Great, I own, are iambics,
and great are longs and shorts; but you may pay
too much for them, and the Yankee boy, I 'm
afraid, buys our culture too dear. It does n't satisfy
him. It is n't what he wants. Over here he is n't
willing to remain a boy; very likely, as you say,
because he feels like an outsider in our boy's world.
Probably at home he would find something answer-
ing to it, in which he could let himself out, and be




satisfied, without wanting to discount life, and be a
man before his time."
How is it, my boys? Are my correspondents
and friends right? Are you hurrying up your own
lives, and therefore, so far as you can, spoiling the
life of your country ? Well, if so, the only word I
have to say to you (like my friend above referred
to) is-patience, patience, patience But I am a
stranger, and know little of your needs or your
hopes. Let me cite, then, one who has the best
right to speak to you, and whose words ought to
go straight to the heart of every American boy.
Take down your Lowell, and look out a little poem
(not one of his best in workmanship, but a gem
in spirit and motive) called "Hebe." The gods'
messenger descends to earth, bearing in her hands
their choicest gift, the cup brimming with nectar-
inspiration, and solace, and strength-for the lip

of him whom the gods approve. The youth rushes
to meet her-will snatch the cup from her hand.
In his haste it is broken, and the precious contents
spilled on the ground.

"0 spendthrift haste! await the gods:
Their nectar crowns the lips of Patience;
Haste scatters on unthankful sods
The immortal gift in vain libations.
Coy Hebe fies from those that woo,
And shuns the hand would seize upon her;
Follow thy life, and she shall sue
To pour for thee the cup of honor."

Yes, follow your lives, and you will control them;
get ahead of them, and they will slip from under
your hand. You are bred with a strong faith in
your country and her destiny; justify that faith
then, and remember that "he that believeth shall
not make haste."



THE stars are tiny daisies high,
Opening and shutting in the sky;
While daisies are the stars below,
Twinkling and sparkling as they grow.

The star-buds blossom in the night,
And love the moon's calm, tender light;
But daisies bloom out in the day,
And watch the strong sun on his way.



IT is so long ago, that now we do not know just
when the canary-bird first began to be a favorite
cage-bird in Europe, but it was some time in the
fourteenth century. Its native land is Southern
Africa and some of the islands off its Atlantic
coast, including Ascension, Cape de Verde, and
St. Helena, where Napoleon Bonaparte was im-
prisoned. It is curious that it should have received

its name from the Canary Islands, which are also
in that part of the world, for it is said to have
been unknown there until some tame ones escaped
to the shore from an Italian ship which was wrecked
near by. Since then "Canaries" have become
abundant on those islands.
The plumage of the wild male bird varies from
greenish-yellow on the throat and breast, to golden-



yellow lower down; the sides and thighs are dirty
white; the top of the head and back brownish-
ash, streaked with brown; the wing-feathers are
brown-black, with pale edges. The color of the
female is more dingy and indistinct. It builds its
nest in thick bushes, lays from four to six pale-
blue eggs, and hatches five or six broods in a sea-
son, the first appearing in March. Its habits are
very much like those of our yellow thistle-bird, or

;, .

^-.-- P9,
- .. .


goldfinch. This is a very different bird, you will
notice, from our larger, clear-yellow cage-bird; yet
the one familiar to us in the United States is per-
haps nearer the original form than the majority
of the thirty or forty known varieties of the canary
which have been produced by the skill of per-
sons accustomed to rearing them, many of which
greatly differ from the ordinary bird not only in
shape, as you see displayed in the group of
" fancy varieties on the next page, but also in the
tints of their coats, and the character and arrange-
ment of the markings.
The bird in the upper right-hand corner of the
picture is known as the Manchester coppy," from
the city of Manchester, England, where it orig-
inated; the hooded, or crested, one under it is a
" Norwich buff-crested fancy," named after Nor-
wich, England; the big-shouldered one at the left
is a favorite in Scotland, under the name of the
" Glasgow don; but the Belgian variety in the
center of the group, which is so slender that it can
almost pass through a finger-ring, is the highest
prized and most delicate of all. It is cultivated
chiefly in Belgium.
The common canary is known throughout the
civilized world, and is so common as to be cheap
in all bird-stores; but many of the varieties are
rare, and very expensive; these varieties are mostly
cultivated in England, however, where the song
of a canary is not so much valued as its elegant

shape or brilliant color. Germany is the great
center whence the world is supplied with singing-
birds, and in Germany the business of raising the
birds and getting them ready to send abroad is
chiefly carried on in the villages among the Hartz
Mountains of Hanover. The people there are
miners and cattle-drovers, but, being poor, almost
every family devotes its spare time to rearing
canaries and making the little wooden cages
in which they are carried to the distant rail-
way station or sea-port. The houses are small,
N but one corner of the principal room is sep-
arated from the rest by a light partition, and
given to the birds for their own use, where,
in cups, boxes, and gourd-shells, they build
their nests and hatch their eggs, secure from
all harm. When the breeding season is over,
all the young birds are taken to Bremen or
Hamburg, to be sent across the ocean to
England, America, or away round to India
and China. These voyages are made only in
the winter, however, because it was found that
in summer traveling the birds lost their voices/
and plumage; but that season is so cold and
stormy that usually from a quarter to a half of
the cargo perishes before reaching our shore.
So many birds are sent, nevertheless, that prob-
ably twenty-five thousand came to New York alive
last year from Europe. These are distributed
through a large number of bird-shops in the city,
and the deafening chorus which is kept up from
dawn till dark by a hundred or two birds singing
at the top of their voices in a single room, added
to the din of a small menagerie of other animals,
is something surprising to one the first time he
The bird-shops are always a curious sight, and
some curious people keep them,-usually kindly
old Germans, who have become so used to hand-
ling tenderly the delicate little creatures, that it is
doubtful whether they could be harsh and rough
if they tried.
And this is just one of the beautiful things about
having a canary in the house, that it is all the
time preaching us a cheery little sermon. It sings
to us, Be happy, be happy, be happy Keep
cool, keep cool, keep cool! Be contented, be gen-
tle, be pure, be true, be trustful And it sets us
a beautiful example every hour. Why, a canary's
good-nature is something wonderful! Next time
you are blue," go and listen to his melody bub-
bling up out of his throat, the notes tumbling
head over heels out of his mouth as though they
could n't get out fast enough to tell how gay he
feels,-and see if you don't catch his jollity and
begin to whistle and sing, too, before you know it.
He does n't bother himself if his breakfast or bath




is late! Not he. He says, "Oh! well, I 'spect
Nellie has something bigger than I am to look
after; I'11 put in the time singing"-and at it he
goes, calling so loud and strong that Nellie soon
hears him, and rewards him with fresh seed. He
is a peace-maker, too. Try to quarrel with your
brother some day. If you are going to fight it
out." n,.iI Il't [.: ur t ,: l l l 'I : hIr ,i .:lt.., '
i ...n r :hr..*] ,: '.. .r ".iti, I, i-_ .: ,ii ,, ,U i-,'... l-
Sr,-,[, : i-,.. l i. .l h i AL -I I. hl tif c. ,1, ,- I I; -,, 'IL .;

<.p,-ri ,'] [..i'"'. *., hi':"- [iic -, -rir .4, 0 ,-- !O -,: ) n,.|
rim-. -.. .1 .:M tl .,: cl,... t .: ,, i ',. -- i i L-t'..: i i. .-.t'11
rn_,ui e ,,,,''. .,i ,- i' :l .**. .:- ii-ti, ,-.r'.:, I 1," ri;'.-; t i-r: t r't ,_,t.!

fold the little trouble he costs, by the sunshine
he brings into the house, and by the gentle, loving
care for all sweet and tender things which he
teaches us day by day.
If we keep a canary, of course we want it always

I"-- -

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'. -,.

- -'Ri"s




the chippy whispering to his mate in the lilac- to be just so healthy and happy; but whether it is so
bush, and the loving talk of pretty warblers which or not, will depend almost entirely on the care we
you cannot see, but only hear in the tall shade- take of it; and it is quite useless-or rather very
trees of the garden! Our Pet pays us a hundred- wrong-for us to undertake for our pleasure the
VOL. IV.-17.


charge of a little prisoner, even though only a
bird, unless we are prepared to spend time and
labor enough to make its captivity just as pleasant
as possible. When even decently attended to, a
canary probably does not feel its confinement; and
there is no doubt that if it is properly cared for, it
has not one hour of sadness all day long.
First as to the cage : It should be suited to the
birds which are to inhabit it, setting off their
attractions. Airiness, space, light and ease of
cleaning, should be the main recommendations,
both for our interest and that of the birds. In
general, the plainer and simpler a cage is, the
better. Fantastic shapes,-Swiss cottages, Chi-
nese pagodas, and the like,-dangling with orna-
ments and sparkling with points and spangles, are
an abomination; they run away with our money,
and hide the little fairy within. The bird itself is
the first one to discover the bright points, and
peck at the glittering spangles, until it poisons or
chokes itself to death in trying to eat them; and
lastly, the many corners and crinkles are just so
many lodging-places for vermin and dirt. This
last is the most serious objection of all, for clean-
liness-absolute purity-is essential to every cana-
ry's health and happiness. A plain, simple cage is
therefore the best, and usually the cheapest. But
it is better to go to a little greater expense in get-
ting the right article at first, even if you have to
have it made to order, than to waste money and
risk your birds by experimenting with unsuitable
cages. Wooden cages are to be avoided also,
because, if pretty, they cost high, but more es-
pecially because it is so difficult to cleanse them.
The best are the simple, square, German, metal-
lic-enameled cages,-prettiest, lightest to carry,
most economical in the end, airy and commodious.
The disadvantage is, that it is not easy to get them
in this country, where they are rather costly.
The color is a matter of taste, but white, or a
combination of white and green, is perhaps most
pleasing and best adapted to the colors of most
birds; light chocolate is good also. In these Ger-
man cages the color is burnt into the wires, and
not painted on where Pet can peck it off and make
himself sick. Brass cages are bad also, because
the poisonous green rust or verdigris, which is
likely to collect upon them, is sure to be eaten by
the bird. Your cage must allow of being taken
apart, for thus only can it be thoroughly cleaned.
The door should be sufficiently large to admit a
good-sized bathing tray. As to food and drinking
vessels, the conical fountains for seeds are to be
avoided; they become foul. Pet can only get at
the top seeds, and so starves in the midst of seem-
ing abundance. Tin cups rust, and are otherwise
bad, so that the only proper arrangement are cups

of glass or porcelain, square or circular, two inches
deep by one across. The perches should be plain
round sticks, unvarnished, and no two of the same
thickness; if the cage is a large one, a swing of
enameled metal or polished wood is a source of
endless amusement to the occupant.

( ,,'-fl,0 T ....

Pet scatters seed-husks with a liberal bill in every
direction through the wires of his cage, and thus
sometimes becomes so annoying as to prevent us
keeping him near us in the parlor or library. Some
ingenious person has devised a cover to catch these
crumbs. A strip, either of thin gauze, or of what
is called "wash-illusion" lace, wide enough to fit
loosely about the cage, when its edges are sewed or
lapped together, is gathered in a bunch like the
neck of an old-fashioned work-bag, and attached
six inches above the top of the cage, and also six
inches below it, where it is tied with a ribbon.
Whenever the cage is cleaned the bottom of this
lace bag or curtain is untied and the seed-husks
shaken out. If you feel that your bird has too lit-
tle air by this arrangement, you might suspend the
lace from the wires about the middle of the cage,
the upper half of which is thus left open, puckering
and tying the covering below as in the other case.
In aviaries much trouble is often caused by mice
eating the seed intended for the birds, and mice
will even climb down the rope by which a cage
is hung, if they can get into it no other way, so
fond are they of the hemp and rape. The next
engraving shows how this thieving may be pre-
vented by passing the cord through a disk of stout
pasteboard, tin, or glass, which will sway with the
weight of the mouse and afford him no chance to
hold on to its smooth surface.




Another matter is where you put your cage or
aviary. The place should be neither too hot, nor
too cold, nor in drafts. In summer, especially at
the time of nesting, a high sunny window, out of
the reach of cats, and where cooling breezes blow
about him all day, will bring out Pet's gayest songs
and warm into their richest beauty the golden hues
of his plumage. In winter a window would be the
worst possible place for him, for there he is exposed
to the dozen steady drafts of cold air which inces-
santly pour in through the crevices in sashes and
panes. In cold weather the best place for birds is
the wall of a dwelling-room on which the sun shines.
There their spirits are kept gay by human compan-
ionship, and, being always in sight, their supply of
food and water is less likely to be forgotten. Stove-
heat, however, and particularly the presence of gas
in the room, is bad for canaries, and to avoid the
evil effects of the last, which makes the air near the
ceiling insufferably hot, causing the canary to molt
out of season, to droop, etc., a good plan is to
have the cage suspended from a pulley, and in the
evening to lower it to within four feet or so of the
floor. An even temperature, summer and winter,
ought, if possible, to be secured for the birds. At
night, if the room is to become cold, the cage
should be wrapped in a woolen shawl, or, at least,
in thick paper, leaving ah air-hole. It is always
better, where possible, to have a little room devoted
to the birds alone, but this, of course, is only prac-
ticable where you have plenty of space and money.
Now, having your pet comfortably and prettily
housed, comes the duty of his daily care. I say
duty, for if we undertake to keep an innocent
creature in captivity, we are bound to make its life
just as joyous as we can. A canary will manage
to live for a long time, and even be cheerful now
and then, surrounded by filth and half starved, for
it has a wonderfully buoyant disposition; but it
will not be happy, and no person has a right to
call himself a bird-lover, or even fancier, who will
allow his canaries to suffer from neglect.
The first essential is cleanliness,-scrupulous
neatness all the time. The cage must be thor-
oughly cleansed every morning, or every other
morning, in all parts, and care should be taken
that the seed is free from dirt, the water pure,
and the sand on the floor of the cage well cleaned
by being previously boiled in water. The corn-
ers and wooden parts should be particularly
looked at, the perches well scraped, and twice a
a week plunged in boiling water to kill any of those
pests, the red mites, that may have got there. Pet
must have a bath every day in a sufficiently large
tub, but it will not do to let him bathe whenever he
pleases, and hence the water must not be left in
the cage after he has once finished. He must not

lack a good supply of seed and plenty of the purest
drinking-water. A bird is so tirelessly active and so
warm-blooded that it uses up its heat and strength
a great deal faster than any other animal. It there-
fore needs constant nourishment, and a simple
morning or evening meal will not do at all; it must
have seed all the time, and in return will reward
you by songs of thanksgiving without end. A
starved bird not only will not sing, but his coat
loses its plumpness and gloss, his manner becomes
listless, and some morning you find him dead and
stiff in the bottom of his cage.
This introduces the subject of food. Canary-
seed is their bread and butter-the wild food of
their native land. They can hardly live without
this, but they need a variety-not made up of rich
biscuit, cake, bread and butter, or the like, which
will soon ruin a bird's delicate digestion-but of the
seeds and green parts of many other plants, such as

4 ""
-- 1 L --
#. .

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hemp, rape, millet, linseed and poppy, and the
crushed seeds of many garden vegetables, mixed
with the canary-seed, or given separately. Canary
and rape seed mixed is called "black-and-white
bird-seed." The seeds of many of our road-side
weeds,--chickweed, plantain, feathery heads of
grass,-and fresh, tender young leaves of water-
cress, plantain, lettuce and cabbage are appreci-
ated; while a perfectly ripe strawberry or pieces of
mellon sweet apples and pears are dainties to a
canary. Plums, cherries, stone-fruits, and rinds are
objectionable for the acid they contain. The green
food given should be perfectly fresh, and if you live
in the city a good plan is to plant a quantity of
bird-seed in saucers of earth, and when the canary,
hemp, rape, or millet is sufficiently grown to look
green at the top, pull it up, roots and all, and
throw it into the cage. You shall see how quickly
your pets will seize it These are so tough that a



canary needs still harder substances to aid his diges-
tion, and will naturally resort to the sand in the
bottom of the cage; you must therefore choose
your sand carefully-sea-sand is the best, because
saltish-and wash it clean. The bird needs lime
also, out of which to build the shells of its eggs;
supply this want with hens' egg-shells, except dur-
ing the nesting season. Daily and regularly fed
with plenty of seed, and saved from devouring
"jim-cracks" in the shape of meat and other un-

stroy his health, or we have been over-indulgent and
injured his stomach with rich food, or else we have
allowed him to associate with some diseased bird
and so catch the malady. It is always one of these
three causes that kills our birds,-leaving accidents
and old age out of the question,-and all three of
these we can avoid.
The symptoms by which you can tell whether
or not your canary is in the enjoyment of health
are: The general appearance of his plumage, the


wholesome things, there is no harm in once in a
while allowing Pet a taste of hard-boiled egg, or a
lump of sugar, but such sweets must be sparingly
supplied. If you are watchful, you will soon come
to know what effect certain food has upon your
bird, and to understand'that what he can eat at one
season is not good for him at another-when molt-
ing, for example.
It is disagreeable to have anything to say about
disease in such dear little objects as our birds; but,
unfortunately, they sometimes fall sick, yet may
occasionally become mopish and ill for a few days
in spite of all we can do; but permanent disease is
always due to some neglect on our part. Either
we have allowed his cage to be so dirty as to de-

color of his eyes, beak and legs, and last, though
not least, his liveliness or his lack of it. A bird's
health is usually most delicate at the time of
the yearly renewal of the coat of feathers, or
"molting," which in the Northern States begins
in August, or earlier in hot weather. Too early
molting should be checked by removal of the
bird to a cooler room and by frequent baths, but
not by medicine. Unless the time is very much
out of the way, however, it is generally best to let
nature have its own course, only guarding against
chills; for if Pet catches cold at this time, he is a
dead bird Strong light-but not the direct rays
of the sun-is of the utmost importance now,
deepening the colors of the new feathers. While





molting, your bird should have plenty of water
for drinking and bathing; and if he seems to suffer
from having a skin so tough that the growing
quills will not push through readily, anoint the sore
parts with a brush dipped in slightly warm castor-
oil. A generous diet, some stimulant in the drink-
ing-water, like a rusty nail or an addition of a trifle
of brandy or sherry wine, an extra allowance of
linseed, and unusual attention on
your part, will help your favorite
through this trying season.
Sometimes the feet and legs
become tender, sore, and scaly.
This is caused by foul perches;
and the treatment is to hold the
feet frequently in warmish water,
sometimes adding a trifle of ar-
nica to it, and to anoint them
with oil. Inflammation in vari-
ous parts of the body, hoarseness
of the voice, and dizziness are not
uncommon complaints; but to
give full instruction about half of
these troublesome diseases would
require a whole number of ST. :-1'
NICHOLAS; and where care and
common sense do not prevent or
cure them, there are books to be
consulted on the subject, especially those published
in England. After all, "an ounce of prevention is
worth a pound of cure," and the tender care which
neither neglects nor frightens the canary is worth
a whole college of doctors. So much for their
bodily troubles.
Canaries show a great aptitude for tricks, some-
times learning to do many amusing and difficult
things, and also to sing tunes very well. They
soon come to know their masters or mistresses,
and will often follow them about. I "mind," as
a Scotch girl would say, a little lassie who had a
pet bird so tame that in pleasant weather she used
every day to open the window and let it go out of
the house, for it would always return at evening,
tapping on the window-panes to be let in, if the
sash happened to be closed. An English gentle-
man had a canary for several years which never
was kept in a cage, and in summer was always
flying out to the gate or down the road to meet its
master, perching on his finger, nestling in his
bosom, or, best of all, clinging in his hair, where
it was completely happy; at the same time only
one other person in the house would it allow to
touch it, resenting any attempt at familiarity with
the fiercest anger. At last, however, this bold
little fellow got bewildered in a sudden dense fog,
and was lost. Canaries can live out-of-doors in
our climate very well in the summer, and some-

times join the families of wild birds; but their
house-bred constitutions can hardly stand the cold
of winter, and escaped birds probably all perish
before spring. They are very affectionate little
creatures, always prefer companions, and will make
friends even with their natural enemies. A fan-
cier in London had a cat which, with her kittens,
would eat out of the canaries' dish in the bird-


room, and never think of harming them, while
the birds seemed to enjoy Tabby's society. The
picture of the bird in the dog's mouth tells a true
story of a canary in France which really would go
into Old Tray's open mouth, and sit there in per-
fect security; reminding us of the birds which
venture into the horrid jaws of the crocodiles dozing
on the banks of the Nile, finding some kind of
food there, and never being harmed by the lazy
On the other hand; canaries are easily fright-
ened. I knew of one which was thrown into con-
vulsions and died simply because a gentleman
placed his white hat suddenly near the cage.
What must have been the terror of that poor bird
I saw in Thirty-fifth street, New York, the other
day Its cage had been placed close up against
the broad pane of a front window, outside of which
there was a little balcony. A large cat saw it,
and thought he had a fine prize; so he crept
stealthily across the balcony until he thought he
was near enough, when he made a spring, and to
his surprise pounced hard against the strong plate-
glass, which evidently he had not seen in his
way-it was so clear. It was amusing to watch
the cat sneak away, abashed, and sore-headed, but
the canary was terribly shocked. There is always
danger from cats in hanging cages out-of-doors,
and also danger from small hawks and butcher-


birds, which frequently drag Pet through the wires
and devour him.
To tame birds and to train them to perform
tricks are two very different things. Any one may
do the first by constant, quiet kindness, endless
attention, and patience. Accustom the bird to
your presence, and let it understand that, what-
ever you do about it, nothing is intended for its
terror or harm. This learned, teaching it to perch
on your finger, or come to your whistle and call, is
only a matter of time and gentle patience. Some
odd tricks may be taught them if they are 'cute,-
for different birds differ very greatly in their ability

to learn, as well as in their natural talents and
dispositions,-but the astonishing exploits of some
troupes of "performing birds" which are exhib-
ited about the country are all taught to them by a
terribly cruel course of lessons, and you ought not
to make your Pet emulate these performances.
The Germans often teach young birds tunes and
the songs of other birds; but the operation is a
slow and tedious one, and the result not very satis-
factory. It seems to me that our highest wish
should be to perfect all that is natural to a canary,
and not try to make him something else than he
is, or was intended to be.



Miss Annabel McCarty
Was invited to a party,
" Your company from four to ten," the invitation said;
And the maiden was delighted
To think she was invited
To sit up till the hour when the big folks went to bed.

The crazy little midget
Ran and told the news to Bridget,
Who clapped her hands, and danced a jig, to Annabel's delight,
And said, with accents hearty,
'T will be the swatest party
If ye 're there yerself, me darlint I wish it was to-night! "

The great display of filling
Was positively killing !
And, oh, the little booties and the lovely sash so wide!
And the gloves so very cunning!
She was altogether "stunning,"
And the whole McCarty family regarded her with pride.

They gave minute directions,
With copious interjections
Of Sit up straight !" and "Don't do this, or that !-'t would be absurd!"
But, what with their caressing,
And the agony of dressing,
Miss Annabel McCarty did n't hear a single word.

There was music, there was dancing,
And the sight was most entrancing,
As if fairy-land, and floral band, were holding jubilee;



There was laughing, there was pouting;
There was singing, there was shouting;
And old and young together made a carnival of glee.

Miss Annabel McCarty
Was the youngest at the party,
And every one remarked that she was beautifully drest;
Like a doll she sat demurely
On the sofa, thinking surely
It would never do for her to run and frolic with the rest.

The noise kept growing louder;
The naughty boys would crowd her;
" I think you 're very rude indeed the little lady said;
And then, without a warning,
Her home instructions scorning,
She screamed: "I want my supper!-and I want to go to bed!"

Now big folks, who are older,
Need not laugh at her, nor scold her,
For doubtless, if the truth were known, we 've often felt inclined
To leave the ball, or party,
As did Annabel McCarty,
But we had n't half her courage, and we could n't speak our mind !



PATTIKIN had a way of calling her home my
house," as if she were the owner of the Parsonage,
and all that was in it. Ask her where she lived,
and she would say, "Up to my house." Ask where
was her hat, when she was found out bareheaded
in the sun, and she would point her cunning,
dimpled finger and say, "In my house." So we
who loved Pattikin, and thought her baby ways
very winsome and sweet, came to call the old red
house that sheltered us "Pattikin's house." I
hope you will be pleased with the story of some of
the good times we had there.

THE minister tipped the sugar-bowl toward him,
picked out a lump and put it into Pattikin's mouth,

and then leaned his elbow on the table, and his
head on his hand, reflectively.
"We must economize said he.
"Now, father," said his wife, "that makes three
lumps of sugar you 've given Pattikin since we sat
down to supper, and it is n't good for her. Besides
that, the firkin's empty."
"Out of sugar again, are we! Why, I thought
it was only a week ago But never mind !
We may as well begin to economize there as any-
where, perhaps. We can go without sugar."
"Oh no, father!" said Thirza, and Tilda and
Pattikin, "we can't! And, "Oh no, father,
not go without any sugar !" was echoed by Seth,
Samuel, Simon and Sandy.
We might do with less, I suppose," said their
Look here said the minister,-and he took
his wallet out of his pocket, and inverted it over
his plate and shook it well. From one of the com-


apartments a tiny, shining half-dime fell, and jingled
down on the plate. "That five-cents is a happy
surprise to me I thought there was absolutely
nothing there," said he. "What do you think
about the sugar, and economizing, now ?"
I think we'd better have begun a little sooner,"
said his wife.
Pho you '11 get more money right off!" said
Pattikin. You always do. We could n't go'thout
no sugar in our tea."
She might have been rewarded for her hopeful
and encouraging view of the matter with another
lump, if her mother had not seized upon the bowl
and carried it off, and shut it up in the cupboard.
So much must be kept sacredly for company
and the baby," said she, if we are really to have
no more at present."
But you don't mean it, father?" said Thirza.
I don't see but I must mean it, unless we have
a windfall or a wedding."
Oh, I hate economizing said Seth, in a tone
of great disgust. "I'd a great deal rather earn
Well, young man, suppose you do earn some,
for a change," said his father.
I could, if you'd let me," said Seth. Milan
Straw says blackberries are thicker than spatter up
in Johonnet's Acre."
"And they're selling for ninepence a quart in
Chester," said Simon.
And you had rather have sugar than the black-
berries ?" said his father. I am not so sure I had."
"I'd rather have some sugar and some black-
berries," said Seth.
Well, you can have Old Gray and go there
blackberrying to-morrow morning, as early as you
please; and in the afternoon you may go to Ches-
ter and sell them. And there's a dollar's worth of
sugar, and a half-bushel (or less) of blackberries
besides, for you, mother, and not a cent to pay."
Oh, father, don't go to counting the chickens
before they are hatched! said Thirza. We
sha' n't have good luck if you do."
"A fig for luck, and a fortune for faithful, per-
severing work," said the minister, gayly. That
pony should be caught to-night, children, if you
are to get an early start."
May we all go with you to the pasture, father?"
asked Tilda.
To be sure! The more the merrier, if mother
does n't need you "
"We'll do our work after we get home. It's
'yes,' is n't it, mother? That's good!"-and
away they flew from the table in search of hats and
Suppose we all go t said the minister to his
wife, while he stood waiting. Could n't you? "

"What, blackberrying? And take the baby?
No, indeed But I hope they will get some. You
might go with them. The girls will want to go;
and Pattikin's too little to be trusted with them,
unless you do."
Oh yes put in Pattikin, who stood bonneted
already at her father's elbow. "I must go. I never
went blackberryin' 'n all my life."
We '11 see," said the minister.
It was a charming walk to the pasture; and it
was n't the least trouble to catch the pony. The
minister had put some gray beans into a two-quart
measure, and when he shook the beans about in
the measure, the gray pony'heard and came run-
ning to them, and as her nose wenMdown into the
measure the bridle went over her head. That
was n't cheating, for she liked gray beans, and the
minister let her eat them all up. It was, in fact, a
bargain, and the pony understood perfectly that
she was being bridled for work; but still she wanted
the beans.
"Now, if anybody wants to ride home on the
gray pony, let them be on hand said the min-
They were all on hand already, but they crowded
up a little nearer and called out, "I do "-" I
do "-" I do to show that they were on hand,
and were lifted one by one to the gray pony's back,
and set in a row from her head to her tail. Patti-
kin, being the least of the children, sat nearest the
head, and held on by the mane with both hands.
Her father also held her by one foot, as he walked
along beside her. Thirza held on to Tilda, and
Tilda held on to Simon, and the boys all clung
together, with their knees pressed hard against the
pony's sides, and so they reached home in safety.
Then they all worked like bees to get everything
ready for an early start. The empty sugar-firkin
was packed with cold beef, johnny-cake, and pickles
for their luncheon; and baskets, pails, and dippers
were collected, and all the chores done up; and
then they went early to bed, as Pattikin said, "so
morning would come quicker."
I do not know by what arguments the minister
prevailed upon her; but when the breakfast was
over, in the gray dawn of the next morning, the
children were delighted tt see their mother putting
on her green calash (that's what the women called
their sun-bonnets when I was a little girl), and
wrapping the baby in his blanket, to go with them.
Johonnet's Acre was three miles off, and the
wildest, most delightful spot in all Pemigewasset
Valley. And it was just as Milan Straw had said.
Every bush was bending low under its weight of
plump, dark, luscious berries. Baskets, pails, and
dippers were filled again and again, and emptied
into the firkin after the hlncheon was taken out;




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and they ate as many as they possibly could, and
got their lips and fingers royally purple.
Their mother laid the baby down in his blanket
under a shady bush, and picked too; and the min-

ister picked faster than any of them, till the sugar-
firkin, and another they had brought, were both full,
and heaped up so they could n't get the cover on.
Then they sat down on the grass and rested and


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ate their luncheon, and wished there had been
more, and picked berries off the top of the firkins
till the covers would go on. And their father told
them the wonderful story of Samson; how he car-
ried off the gates of the city on his shoulders;
how he killed the lion, and all about the riddle,
and also about the foxes with firebrands tied to
their tails. The children never tired of this story,
though they had heard it many times.
And then it was time to go home, for the pony
must have dinner and a good rest before he went
to Chester.
Only Seth and Samuel were to go to Chester.
This was so well settled that there was no teasing
even from Pattikin. Very manly and important,
the two set off, armed with directions how and
where to tie Old Gray,-what to do, and what not
to do, in every possible emergency.
Very proud and satisfied they came back at
sundown, and delivered the firkin, heavy with the
coveted sugar, into the eager hands of the bevy of
brothers and sisters who came out to meet them.



ONE afternoon in the spring, before the black-
berrying, of which I told you, Thirza and Tilda
went across the road to visit Mrs. Vesta Preston.
Mrs. Vesta was young Mrs. Preston's aunt, and
lived upstairs, and never got out of the chair be-
cause she had had paralysis. Mrs. Preston took
good care of her. But the poor lady often got
very tired of sitting all alone in her room with no
one to speak to, for Mrs. Preston must be about
her work down-stairs; so Thirza and Tilda went to
see her quite often, and their visits were always
They carried their work and sewed this time,
because they had not finished their shirt, and Mrs.
Vesta liked to see them sew. Sometimes they
carried her flowers in the summer time, and in
autumn the gayly colored maple leaves, or bunches
of wintergreen berries, or, if nothing else was to be
found, bits of the red-tipped moss. There was no
season that the woods did not yield something to
reward their search-no, not even when the ground
was thickly covered with snow, for was n't there
always spruce gum on the trees?
But this time it happened they had nothing to
bring. On the contrary, Mrs. Vesta had some-
thing for them.
It's a new kind of seed," she explained. My
niece sent them from ddwn below. She says they
produce a vine that bears a beautiful red fruit larger
than a plum or an apple,-not at all like either,-

but very nice, stewed for sauce or eaten raw. The
city folks set great store by them. They call them
tomatoes, and they must be planted early in a hot-
bed, if you want them to do much up here."
But we have n't any hot-bed," said Tilda.
"But you can plant them in a box, and keep
them in the window," said Mrs. Vesta.
Yes 'm; so we can. And we've got earth
enough in the box I had my geranium in last fall.
It's down cellar yet," said Thirza.
They went home, very proud of the six precious
seeds that they carried carefully wrapped in paper.
The minister entered into their project with zeal.
He showed them how to make small birch bark
boxes, in each of which they could plant one seed.
Then when the garden was ready the boxes could
be cut apart and the plant set in the ground with-
out disturbing its roots.
The boxes were set in a row along the south
window, and watched, and tended and watered,
and the result was five strong, healthy plants to
set in the garden when the middle of May came.
"I hope the 'matos wont smell so, as the vines
do. If they do, I sha'n't want any, I 'm sure,"
said Pattikin.
It was not long after that blackberry excursion
that the first fruits of the tomato-vines were ripened.
The minister went out to the garden in the after-
noon, followed by Thirza, Sandy, Tilda and Pat-
tikin, to gather them.
"They are beauties, anyhow; and I'm sure I
shall like them," said Thirza.
So am I," said Tilda.
But Pattikin smelled them, and withheld her
They did n't know about scalding off the skins,
so the minister pared them with his pocket-knife.
Then they put them into the stew-pan, and very
soon they were cooked.
"I wonder whether they should be sweetened,"
said the minister, bending over them and stirring,
for in such an important affair he could n't leave
the cooking entirely to the feminine department.
He dipped out a spoonful and cooled it with his
breath, and tasted. He just restrained a wry face.
The children, watching, knew that too.
"Run over, Tilda, and ask Mrs. Preston what
we should use for seasoning."
Tilda came back in a minute, breathless:
Salt and pepper, and a bit of butter."
"Oho Here goes, then."
And he was about to feston the condiments with
lavish hand.
Let me," said his wife, who better understood
the proper proportions to use..
So she salted, and peppered, and buttered, and
then they were poured out into the best sauce-




dish, which had been brought from the parlor cup-
board for this grand occasion.
I think it smells kind o' good," said Simon, as
they drew their chairs about the table. The best
sauce-plates were out too, and the father served a
portion to each. Then there was a general tasting;
then queer, doubtful looks at one another; and
then a general smiling, which quickened into
laughter, and a merry peal rang out through the
the open windows, the echo of which reached even
to poor Mrs. Vesta's ears as she sat in her lonely
upstairs apartment.
"To think we 've worked, and watched, and
cared all summer for those things," said Seth,
wiping away the tears his mirth had brought.

S -

i s

1 .1



The minister had laughed with the rest, but he
was not, like the rest, inclined to give it up so.
They were said to be very healthy; the city people
prized them highly, and he was going to like them.
So he tasted, and tasted again, till by dint of per-
sistent trying, he almost thought he did like them
a little.
What shall I do with those that are left?" asked
his'wife, when the meal was over.
Give 'em to the pigs," said Simon.
But Mrs. Jones (have I told you the family name
was Jones?) still looked at her husband and waited
his answer.
Well," said he, "there will be more ripe in a

few days, and then I will try them cut up raw,
with salt and vinegar and pepper. I think I should
like them better that way."
So the pigs had the remaining portion, which
was the largest part of the cooked tomatoes.
The vines were astonishingly prolific. They
gave their fruit lavishly, prodigally, recklessly, and
still kept on blossoming and forming new fruit, as
if there always would be more behind, till frost
came. By that time the minister had really learned
to like them; and Simon and Thirza and Tilda,
who always wished to do as their father did, liked
them too. But nothing could induce Pattikin to
taste them again.
They learned to dry them, to make catsup of
them, to seal them up in bottles; and, in short,
the tomato was from this time an institution in the
minister's family.

THE minister had a farm-a very little one-
three or four acres. One-half was devoted to corn
and potatoes, and a few scraggy old apple-trees.
The other half was devoted chiefly to mineralogy.
There was plenty of the testimony of the rocks "
there, if the children could have read it. They
often wondered about them. How did they all
come there ?-sugar-loaf rocks; low flat-topped
rocks large enough to be called ledges; big, high
masses, equal in size to a moderate dwelling-house,
cleft down the middle as smoothly as if done with
a knife. Was that done when "the earth did quake,
and the rocks rent, and darkness was over all the
There were, too, miniature caves, which the lit-
tle girls furnished after their simple fashion, and in
which they played through many a bright summer-
day, where they bestowed their treasure of gray
moss and green, and the mineral collections with
which they were forever loading down their pockets.
But, more than all the rocks and caves, they
prized the frog-pond that lay beyond the ledges,
and reached away out into Mr. Iturbide's pasture.
Such plays as they had there on Saturday after-
noons, or in vacation after the corn was got in !
But speaking of the corn reminds me that I in-
tended to tell you in this chapter about work
and not about play. For it was all ready to be
Seth, and Samuel, and Simon cut the stalks.
Seth had a long knife with a red handle that he
thought looked like a sword, and he led his army
out to invade the field, with all the dignity and
confidence of a great general. Simon had a sickle
shaped like a half-moon. Simon had a nondescript


sort of knife, which had been freshly sharpened,
and could be made to do great execution.
Sandy guided the gray pony, which was har-
nessed to the green wagon to carry up the corn to
the barn, where they would husk it. The girls
gathered the stalks into bundles, which they tied
with pumpkin-vines, and loaded the wagon with
Pattikin thought she helped amazingly, but
the most she did was to stub her toes against the
corn-stubble and fall over the great yellow pump-
kins, and gnaw sweet apples. Once she said,
" Oh, dear I keep stubbin' my toes for ever 'n'
Then Thirza said, I would n't work. Sit down,
and rest awhile." So Pattikin sat down.
While she was resting, the gray and white kitten
came down into the field, and went about rubbing
herself against the children. Pattikin caught her
and held her in her lap, and whispered in her ear:
" You stay here with me, and when the load goes
up to the barn, we 'll have a ride. They don't'low
anybody but me to ride; but I'11 smuggle you up in
my apron so they wont see."
The kitty nestled down in Patty's lap, and pur-
red as if she understood. Pretty soon the load was
ready, and Pattikin scrambled up on top by the
help of Thirza, who pushed her up from behind.
She was a little slow and awkward about it, be-
cause of the load in her apron.
And Seth called out, Come, hurry. We want
to get started quick. We 've got so much to do."
Because their father was going to Association
next day, and must use the gray pony, he had
promised them, if they could get the corn all in
that night, in the evening he would help them
make molasses candy.
When Pattikin was up, she chose her seat on
top of a bundle of stalks, and they went bumping
along. Once or twice, Kitty, who was n't used to
riding over such rough ground, tried to get out of
the apron and jump down to run away on her own
feet, which, I suppose, she thought much the safer
way of getting through the world. At length she
really did get out, and gave a daring leap right
over the wagon wheel, and coming to the ground
right side up, as they say a cat always will, scam-

pered for the house. Pattikin had reached out
a little too far in trying to recover her, the bundle
of stalks she was sitting on rolled and went off over
the wheel, and Patty after it.
There was a deal of shouting and whoaing before
the pony was stopped. The children gathered
round to see if any bones were broken. To their
great joy, Pattikin had escaped with only a little
bump on her forehead and a bruise on her knee
from some stones that lay in the way.
"They are always coming all over the field,
those stones!" said Sandy. "We pick them all
out clean-bushels and bushels of 'em-after every
plowing, but there are always just as many. I
believe they grow."
Our farm will be all stone-wall after awhile, if
it goes on so many years," said Samuel.
I suppose there '11 have to be another stone-
picking this fall," said Sandy.
"Yes," said Seth, "after the crops are all in.
You'd better walk the rest of the way, Patty."
Oh, I don't want to," said Pattikin. My
knee aches awful, and I should n't wonder if I got
So, as Pattikin was rather spoiled by the rest,
they helped her up again, and cautioning her to
take a safer seat, they went on.
We're going to dig pertaters, to-morrow," said
Sandy. I heard father say so."
Pertaters! I can talk better grammar than
that myself," said Pattikin.
"Better be looking out that you don't fall off
the load than minding my grammar," said Sandy,
tickling the bottom of her foot with a straw, by way
of retaliation.
Poh I'm not going to fall off again," said
Patty, curling her feet up under her dress for
I would n't talk about grammar till I could say
association," said Sandy.
S"I can-sosation," said Pattikin.
All the children laughed.
"There!" said Thirza. "You be still, now,
Sandy Father said we were not to quarrel."
They got the corn all into the barn by sundown,

and after supper, the minister said But that
must come in the next chapter.

(To be continued.)




A CERTAIN fox was extremely desirous of gain-
ing admission into a poultry-yard, the lord of which
was a cock of good blood and extremely aristocratic
ways, so the sly animal soon contrived to secure
his acquaintance and even friendship.
One day as the gosling (who was a protge' of


the cock's), the cock himself, and the fox were to-
gether, the conversation turned upon the subject
of personal faults.
Said the cock: "I feel conscious that I have
very many faults, and nothing would I so much
value as some real friend who would show them to
me. Now, I dare say, gosling," continued he, turn-
ing to that humble creature and smiling blandly,-
" I dare say, gosling, that even you have noticed
the presence of some few small faults in me. Is it
not so? Speak frankly, my little friend."
The gosling was immensely elated at this chance
of proving himself the true friend desired.
Oh yes, sir;" he said, eagerly, I have no-
ticed the presence of a great many, indeed."
"Oh, have you?" said the cock, coldly, "And
what are they, pray ?"

Well, sir, you are abrupt in your manners,
and overbearing to your inferiors.
"Am I, indeed ?" said the cock still more coldly.
"Yes, sir! And then you are excessively quar-
relsome, beside being very selfish."
Hah !" exclaimed the cock, angrily.

ths ,

Then, sir, not only do you treat your children
badly, but you neglect your wife also. Beside all
these "
Stop!" cried the cock, in a violent rage, "What
do you mean by charging me with faults that I
never possessed? You are an insolent scoundrel
and a sneak-you-you And unable to
contain himself longer, he fell upon the unhappy
gosling and tore three beakfuls of down from his
"I marvel," said the fox, as the wretched gosling
made his escape, screaming loudly with pain and
terror, "I marvel that one so constantly associated
with you could thus malign you to your face.
Those are not your faults."
Well, what are they then ?" said the cock, still
somewhat ruffled.
"P:Ii mavl"sid h oa h wece oln
maehsecpsraiglul ihpi n
terro '' I avlta n ocosatyascae





Did I not know your extreme patience under
correction, I should hesitate to tell them, or rather
it, for I have only noticed one in my acquaintance
with you. You are, sir, I grieve to say it, but you
are, sir, extremely haughty and exclusive in your
manners. Your blood, your aristocratic breeding,
your culture, and your refinement all tend to cause
you to look upon your more vulgar yet still honest
fellow-creatures with a courteous haughtiness, if
I may so express it. It is a fault to which your
superior station may plead some extenuation; still
it is a fault. Let me beg you, honored sir, to cor-

he would scarcely deign to notice the other barn-
yard creatures.
One day the fox said: "It has always been a sub-
ject of much wonder to me why a creature of so much
intellect, and with such a proper amount of self-
respect as yourself, should submit, as you do, to
the absolute rule of human beings. Now here am
I, a simple-minded, jog-trot animal, with not one-
half the wit and shrewdness of the least one of
you here in the barn-yard, and yet I am absolutely
free and untrammeled in my movements. I own
allegiance to no one and am my own master, while



rect this one failing, and so render yourself the
model of perfection you would then be. Recollect,
sir, that though humbler, we are still your fellow-
The cock stood upon one leg meditating for a
long while upon this speech; at length he heaved
a sigh, and said:
I feel that you are correct; you have acted the
part of a true friend. Yes, I confess that you are
From that time the cock's friendship for the fox
greatly increased, while his overhearing manners
toward the other creatures in no wise diminished.
The crafty fox frequently turned the conversation,
in their subsequent interviews, upon the subject of
family distinction, and cunningly contrived so to
flatter the vanity of the cock that, in time, he be-
came puffed up with pride to such an extent that

you and your humbler associates are dependent for
the very necessaries of life upon the will of your
That is very true," said the cock, reflectively.
Now," continued the fox, I have thought of
a most excellent idea. I know a delightful and
secluded spot, sir, where a little colony could be
started far away from the habitation of man, and
where you could soon show the world that intelli-
gent poultry need not be entirely subservient to the
will of these miserable human beings. Here are
you with blood, breeding and great natural dignity
of bearing (I need hardly mention such a well-known
quality of yours as intelligence), a born ruler in
fact. If, now, some of your mentally advanced
creatures-such, for instance, as the geese and tur-
keys, and even the ducks-would only be persuaded
to start a small community somewhere, you, sir,




have the very making of a king or even an em-
peror in you, and might prove yourself an excellent
example of a noble and generous ruler."
This plan pleased the cock amazingly.
"I shall consider your proposition," said he.
"And you can guide us, you say, to such a spot as
you have mentioned ?"
"Certainly, sir! I know the very place," said
the fox.
The idea of the colony took root in the poultry-

yard immediately, and spread in popularity amaz-
ingly, for each creature imagined that he himself
had the ability, mentally, to become in time a
prominent politician, if not a leader. One night,
accordingly, everything was arranged, and the
crafty fox guided the poor deluded creatures to a
most secluded portion of the adjoining forest.
None of them ever returned again, yet it was
rumored, far and wide, that the crafty fox was sub-
sisting entirely upon the little community.



THE northern heavens present no change of
special importance since last month. The Dragon
has been carried away from his former hovering
position, and now appears as if swooping down-
ward, though in a direction contrary to that of his
real motion around the pole. The ancient ob-
servers do not seem to have attached any impor-
tance, by the way, to the direction in which the
star-sphere turns; and, indeed, a motion so slow
as not to be perceptible by ordinary vision might
well be left out of account in forming imaginary
star-groups. Some of the figures go forward, as
Orion, the Great Bear, Bootes (the Herdsman), the
Lion, and so forth; others go backward, as the
Dragon, the Ram, the Bull, Pegasus (the Winged
Horse), and so on; while others, like Ophinchus,
the Serpent-Bearer, are supposed to face the ob-
server and so travel sideways; and others, again,
travel on their head, as Hercules, Cepheus, and
Andromeda. It is quite clear that those who in-
vented the constellation figures did not trouble
themselves much about the rotation of the star-
There may be noticed in the northern heavens,
as seen in February, a vacant space above the
pole, girt round by the constellations Auriga (the
Charioteer) overhead, Perseus (the Rescuer), Cas-
siopeia (the Seated Lady), Cepheus (her royal hus-
band), and the two Bears. In this poverty-stricken
region there are no stars of the first three magni-
tudes, and only four or five of the fourth magnitude.
The ancient astronomers could imagine no con-
stellations in these spaces. It is to the moderns,
and especially to Hevelius, that we owe the con-
stellations which have been figured in these barren

districts. The Cameleopard, or Giraffe, is one; the
Lynx another. I cannot say, for my own part, that
I see either a giraffe or a lynx there. Certainly, if
you draw the connecting lines shown in the map,
you get as fair a picture of a giraffe (inverted at
present) as can possibly be made with a couple of
lines ; but it seems to me-though I do not claim
to be an artist-that rather more than two lines are
needed to picture a respectable giraffe. Besides,
the lines are not on the sky, and the liveliest fancy
would not think of connecting these stars by im-
aginary lines, so widely remote are the stars, and
so insignificant.
The Little Bear is now gradually getting round
(at the selected hour of evening observation) to a
position such as a bear might reasonably assume.
Last month, this small bear was hanging head
downward by the end of his absurdly long tail. He
is now slowly rising from that undignified position,
and by next month he will have fairly placed him-
self on his feet. For the present we can leave him
to his struggles; but next month we shall consider
his history and the duties which he has discharged
for many hundreds of years.
Turning to the southern skies, we find full com-
pensation for the relatively uninteresting aspect of
the northern heavens. The most resplendent con-
stellation in the heavens is now in full glory in the
south. There, close to the meridian, or mid south,

Begirt with many a blazing star,
Stands the great giant Algebar,
Orion, hunter of the beast.
His sword hangs gleaming by his side,
And on his arm the lion's hide,
Scatters across the midnight air
The golden radiance of its hair."



No one can mistake this most beautiful constella- say nothing of numbers of faint stars scattered all
tion. The two bright shoulder stars, Betelgeux (a) over it, justify the words of the poet, who sang:
and Bellatrix (y), the brilliant star Rigel on the
giant's advanced foot, the triply gemmed belt (i Orion's beams Orion's beams
His star-gemmed belt, and shining blade;
and 6), and the pendent sword tipped with the His isles of light, his silvery streams,
bright star t, distinguish Orion unmistakably. But, And gloomy gulfs of mystic shade."

besides these glories, there are others; the curve From the first beginning of astronomy, and prob-
of small stars forming the giant's shield (a lion's ably long before astronomy was thought of, this
hide), the misty light of the great nebula which constellation was figured as a giant; sometimes a
lies on the sword (where shown), and on clear giant hunter, a sort of celestial Nimrod ;.sometimes
nights the dappled light of the Milky Way, which as a warrior. He commonly wielded an immense
really extends over a part of this constellation, to club in his right hand (the star v marked the handle



of the club), and a shield (formed by the stars 7r,
22, etc.) in his left. The star 3 of the constellation
Eridanus really marks the giant's bent knee; and
originally the constellation Lepus (or, the Hare)
formed a chariot in which the hunter or warrior
stood. In some old manuscripts of the middle

ages, the stars of Lepus formed a throne for Orion.
In fact, this little constellation, although named
the Hare from time immemorial, has been called
by several other names, insomuch that Ideler, after
quoting several names, wrathfully adds, "And God
knows how many more there are."
VOL. IV.-18.

The cut on the next page shows Orion as he is
now generally pictured. He is somewhat out of
drawing, because of the necessity of keeping cer-
tain stars in particular positions with respect to
him. Thus Betelgeux is derived from the Arabic
ibt-al-jauzd, the giant's shoulder. Bellatrix, or the

Amazon star, belongs of right to the other shoulder,
and Rigel to the advanced foot, while the three
stars of the belt fix the position of the giant's waist.
To tell the truth, he is an ill-shaped giant, anyway,
and cannot be otherwise depicted.
Below Lepus (the Hare) you see the neat little



group Columba, or the Dove. This is one of
the younger constellations, and was invented by
Hevelius, perhaps to show that the ship Argo,
which you see low down on the left, is no other
than Noah's Ark. In fact, the name given to the
small group originally was Columba Noachi, or
Noah's Dove. Approaching the mid south, you
now see the brightest star in the whole heavens-
Sirius, the famous Dog-star. The constellation
Canis Major, the Greater Dog (which might much
better be called simply Canis), was one of Orion's
hunting-dogs, Canis Minor being the other; but
we can hardly suppose Lepus was the sole prey
pursued by so gieat a giant and two such fine dogs.
The constellation Canis Major is chiefly remarkable
for the Dog-star. In old times this star was thought
to bring pestilence. Homer speaks of it (not by
name, however) as the star

"Whose burning breath
Taints the red air with fevers, plagues, and death "

Many among the ancients supposed that this star
was in reality as large as the sun. Thus Manilius
'T is strongly credited this owns a light
And runs a course not than the sun's less bright;
But that, remov'd from sight so great a way,
It seems to cast a dim and weaker ray."

It has been shown in our own time, however, that
even this estimate, which was by many thought too
daring, falls far short of the truth. It has been
calculated that Sirius gives out three hundred times
as much light (and doubtless three hundred times
as much heat) as our sun. So that it would make
us rather uncomfortable if our sun were removed
and Sirius set in his place. Sir W. Herschel says
that when he turned his large four-feet mirror on
this star, the light was like that of the rising sun,
and it was impossible to look at the star without
pain to the eye. Sirius is in reality in rapid motion,
though, owing to his enormous distance, he seems
at rest. He is rushing ri,,.. u l space at the rate
of about thirty miles in every second of time In
a year he traverses nearly six times the distance
which separates our earth from the sun. But this
enormous annual journey is only about -,nto-uoth
part of the distance which separates him from our
earth; and as he is traveling away from us, we
need not be greatly troubled on account of him.
He is so far from us that his light has been no less
than twenty years on its way to us, so that.in reality,
instead of saying we see Sirius, we ought to say we
see where Sirius was some twenty years ago. Most
of the stars are even farther away, so that if every
one of them were in a single instant destroyed, we
should still see them-that is, their light-for many

years, and probably the greater number of them
wou!d still seem to be shining in the heavens long
after the youngest of us were dead ; perhaps even
after our great-grandchildren had passed away.
Canis Minor, the Lesser Dog, is a much less im-
portant star-group than Canis Major; but still it is
one of the old constellations. Its chief star is called
Procyon, or the Fore-dog, because this star is seen
as a morning star earlier than Sirius. The Arabian
astronomers gave it a name of similar meaning, to
wit, Al-kelb-al-mutekaddem; but I think Procyon
sounds almost as well, and as it is the name by
which the star is usually called, it may, perhaps, be
better to use it instead of the Arabian name, though
this is very pretty. Procyon, like Sirius, was sup-


posed to be a star of evil omen, especially as bring-
ing bad weather. What meteoroscoper," said
Leonard Digges, the astrologer, "yea, who that is
learned in matters astronomical, noteth not the
great effects at the rising of the star called the
Litel Dogge ?"
The constellation Gemini, or the Twins, is now
approaching the south, but will be more fully within
the range of our next monthly map. The sign
marked o is, that of Cancer, or the Crab, which
the sun enters at midsummer. You will observe
that we have now reached the part of the ecliptic
highest above the equator, which is, of course, the
part reached by the sun at midsummer. The point
marked c is at its highest in the south at noon on



or about June 21st, and is then occupied by the
sun ; it is at its highest in the south at midnight on
or about December 20. and the sun is then exactly
opposite to this point, or at his lowest below the
northern horizon.
Those who live as far south as New Orleans, see
well raised above the horizon the star Canopus, in
the stern of the good ship Argo. There is pre-
sented to them, at this season, a view of more first

magnitude stars than can be seen at any other time
in one quarter of the heavens. For besides the
splendid equal-sided triangle formed by Procyon,
Betelgeux. and Sirius, they see Aldebaran, Rigel,
and Canopus, the last-named surpassing every star
in the heavens except Sirius alone.
Next month, the great ship Argo will have come
better into view; and I defer till then my account
of this fine constellation.

[See "Letter-Box."]


BY A. E. C.

IF you will be my valentine,
My charming little dear,
The sun can never help but shine
Throughout the coming year.

The lessons all will put themselves
Into your little pate;
The hardest sums you have, you'll see
All answered on your slate.

If you will be my valentine,
You'll see in all your walks
Fresh lemon-drops on every twig,
And peanuts on the stalks;

While hot mince-pies, all hand in hand,
Meet you at every stile;
With raisins marching on in front,
And figs in single file.

P. S.--But if from you I never hear,
Nor even get a line,
I'l1 ask some other nicer girl
To be my valentine.


" ,'a'. -




THE boy lay perfectly still and tried to go to
sleep again. But exciting thoughts kept him
awake. He lived over again the events of the past
few days,-the funeral, the auction, the journey,-
and thought many times of all that Florie and her
mother had said to him.
As it grew lighter he got up, dressed himself
noiselessly, and leaving Alphonse asleep, went out
upon deck.
The pilot's bell was tinkling fitfully. The paddle-
wheels-motionless for a moment, then reversed-
dashed the boiling water into foam. The steamer
was coming to a landing at the foot of a large town
(to Jacob's eyes it looked large) on the Ohio shore.
A few passengers were preparing to land. Among
them Jacob was rejoiced to see the tall Kentuckian.
"We shall be rid of him he thought, and
looked with impatience to see the colonel set foot
upon the gangway plank.
But what was that which Corkright carried in his
hand ? A violin-case It resembled Pinkey's so
much that Jacob observed it with a start of sus-
picion and alarm. He drew near, to get a closer
look at it. He felt sure it was the professor's.
The deck-hands already had hold of the plank,
or "bridge," to push it out. In less than a minute
Corkright would be gone. There was not an in-
stant to lose. The boy ran back to the state-room,
and made a hasty search. The violin was not
Mr. Pinkey Oh, Mr. Pinkey !" cried Jacob,
shaking his friend, who lay asleep in his clothes.
"What's wanting?" snarled the dancing-master,
starting up, and seeing Jacob.
That man-Colonel Corkright-has got your
violin "
What of it ? Can't a gentleman have a fiddle,
but you must --"
But he is going off with it !-going ashore "
said Jacob, all excitement. I'll stop him I'll
tell the captain "
He was hurrying out. Alphonse called after him
sharply :
You wont do anything of the sort Come
back here, you ninny It's all right."
Perfectly bewildered, Jacob turned and stared at
his friend.
I've sold him the violin," said Alphonse. He

took a fancy to it, and offered me a right smart
price-and I've a much better one than that.
Don't make a fool of yourself. Let me sleep."
Pinkey sank back upon the pillow, in which he
buried his rumpled ringlets. Jacob could not help
speaking a word in self-defense.
I had heard you say you thought so much of
that violin-you would not part with it for anything
-it was worth twice its weight in gold So when
I saw him going ashore with it, of course I "
But here Alphonse made an impatient move-
ment, and Jacob withdrew, reaching the gangway
just in time to see Corkright move off with the
Pinkey did not appear at breakfast, nor indeed
for some hours after. Jacob looked into the state-
room two or three times during the forenoon, and
saw him still lying in the berth, with his disordered
curls about his face.
At last, going in about dinner-time, he found
him disentangling the said curls before the glass.
Hallo Come in, boy said the professor,
as Jacob hesitated. I took cold on deck last night
-had a horrible headache this morning-but I'm
all right now."
The charming Alphonse was himself again. The
boy sat down on a stool and watched his friend at
his toilet.
How are the ladies ? said Pinkey, twirling a
ringlet round his finger.
Rather lonesome without you, I should think,
-for I suppose you mean the sisters."
To be sure I do. I lay awake half the night
trying to decide in my mind which to choose."
Jacob knew that this was a prodigious fib; but
he was too glad to see Alphonse in a cheerful
mood again, to question the accuracy of his state-
Lonesome, did you say? What makes you
think so ?"
They are not half so gay as they were yester-
day; and I heard them inquiring about you."
No doubt of it laughed Alphonse.
"And about Colonel Corkright."
Bah Pinkey shook his ringlets, with a
shrug. "Well, what did anybody tell 'em about
me and the colonel? "
Somebody said Corkright got off the boat to
take the cars; and then Dory-or Doshy-I can't
tell 'em apart "
Dory is the one in green,-no, the one in pink



-is she ?" said Alphonse. "'I did know, but --
Hallo what in the name of-- "
Pinkey did not finish his sentence, for the reason
that he suddenly went reeling over against the
berths with the water-pitcher, which he had just
lifted for the purpose of filling a glass.
Jacob also, seated upon his stool, found himself
carried over against the lower berth, with a strange
momentum ; and at the same time there resounded
a chorus of screams and a clashing of chairs in the
adjoining cabin.
It happened that the passengers were just sitting
down to dinner, when everybody and everything
went swaying and lurching all one way, toward the
bow. This singular pressure of all objects forward
lasted three or four seconds, the boat meanwhile
straining from stem to stern. Then it ceased. The
engine was silent. The steamer had stopped.
An accident cried Jacob, starting up wildly.
"Got aground, that's all," said Professor Pinkey,
and coolly proceeded to fill his glass.

JACOB ran out to make an observation, and soon
came hurrying back with news.
We 're fast aground on a sand-bar, between a
low sandy island-what they call a tow-head-and
the Ohio shore. There was plenty of water where
we are a few days ago, and they say the bar has
lately been formed."
The sand-bars in the river are constantly shift-
ing," replied Alphonse. "I've been aground on
'em before "
"The woods here are close to the shore," said
Jacob ; "and there seems to have been a sort of
slide in one place, where some trees have fallen
over into the water. We had just passed the fallen
trees when we struck. There's a broader passage
over the other side of the tow-head, but there are
bars there too; and, besides, there was a steam-
tug in there, with ten flat-boats in tow, loaded with
Well, what's the prospect of our getting off? "
said Pinkey, putting on his coat and buttoning it
at the waist.
"Poor, I think. The engine.is backing water
furiously, but we don't move. I heard the mate
tell the captain-who was just sitting down to din-
ner when we struck-that it's a serious business."
"No doubt," said Alphonse, gayly. "Serious
for the boat, and for people who are in a hurry,
but not for gentlemen of leisure like us, Jacob. Be
easy in your mind, my boy. Pleasant weather-
good company-and we get our board and lodgings
if it takes a month to make the trip. All ready

now, Jacob, my boy "-and Alphonse walked out
to dinner.
The passengers, many of whom had gone out
like Jacob to observe the situation, had now re-
turned and taken their seats at the table. Pinkey
found his place with the ladies at the upper end,
where an obsequious waiter had kept his chair
tipped forward for him ; while Jacob went humbly
to a seat near the foot.
The accident afforded an agreeable topic of con-
versation; and after dinner everybody went out to
witness the efforts making to get the steamboat
off the bar.
A hawser had been stretched to the shore, and a
gang of men were heaving away at it, while the
reversed paddle-wheels revolved. But all to no
purpose. The steamer did not move.
If they don't get her off soon, they can't in all
summer," said Mr. Pinkey, cheerfully. The river
is falling, and we shall soon be high and dry here.
I was once two weeks aboard a steamboat aground
on a bar above Paducah. We had to wait for the
river to rise. We hired another steamboat to help
us off, but it was no use,-it snapped the big cable
like a thread. We had lively times, though; we
gentlemen used to go ashore every day and hunt
wild turkeys. But it was n't so pleasant for old
ladies without any knitting. Think of two weeks
on a sand-bar, Mrs. Chipperly "
"Dreadful! said Mrs. Chipperly. "What shall
we do ?"
Have some music, for one thing," cried Dory.
"Oh, Mr. Pinkey where's your violin ? "
Jacob watched Alphonse, and wondered what he
would say.
Ladies," replied the professor, with his sweet-
est smile, "you know how delighted I should be to
gratify you. But I am distressed to be obliged to
say that I have broken three strings to my instru-
ment, and I have n't another with me."
How mean said Doshy. It's dreadful,
here in the hot sun. Wish we were over in those
nice woods on the bank! Oh, Mr. Pinkey why
can't we get the boat of these men, and have a little
fun ashore? "
Oh, daughters I can't hear of your going in
the boat !" said Mrs. Chipperly, fanning herself.
It's so dangerous !"
We shall be perfectly safe in Mr. Pinkey's
care," said Dory.
Certainly," said Alphonse. I pledge my own
life, madam, that I will bring back your lovely
daughters unharmed. I'll see the captain. He'll
do anything for me. If we can't have the small-
boat, I'll make 'em launch the yawl."
He went off, and returned presently.
All right we can have the boat and a couple



of men to row us over, as soon as they've got some
new kink in their hawser, which does n't work right
where it is."
Oh, Mr. Pinkey, that's just lovely !" exclaimed
Dory. Now let's make up our party."
The twins having proposed the excursion, and
Mr. Pinkey having engaged the boat, they invited
whom they pleased to go with them, and a party
of seven was soon formed.
Jacob looked wistfully at Alphonse. Of course
he wanted to go too ; but Alphonse took no notice
of him. And when, after considerable delay, he
saw the boat with its merry occupants push off
without him, his heart swelled with a sense of
Avoiding the cable, which was stretched from

not go. He was getting a little acquainted with her
now. She came up to him as he stood gazing over
the rail at the pleasant woods where the distant
laughter was.
Why did n't you go ? she said.
I was n't asked to," Jacob replied.
Why did n't you go without being asked ? "
Oh, I did n't like to invite myself where I
was n't wanted."
Florie looked into his face with an arch, quizzical
You are a kind of goose; don't you think you
are ? "
Yes, I suppose I am," said Jacob, humbly.
Do you think," she cried, if I had wanted to
go in that boat, I would n't have jumped in and


the stern to the farthest of the fallen trunks on the
Ohio side, the boat kept on up-stream until it
reached a landing-place which suited Alphonse.
There the bow was run ashore, and the ladies
helped up the slope.
Jacob heard their gay voices as they gathered
on the bank, and had glimpses of them as they
climbed up into the woods that covered the terrace-
like bluff. He could hear the laughter of the
sisters long after they disappeared from view.
There was a romantic charm about it all, which
kept alive his grief at being left behind.
His only solace was in thinking that Florie did

gone ? I mean, if I were a boy like you. A boy
can do anything, and nobody minds him."
"Don't you do about everything you take a
notion to ? Jacob asked.
Oh no, not half the things "
What is there you deny yourself? "
Oh, for one thing, I 'd like to step up to your
friend Mr. Pinkey, almost any time of day, and say
to him, 'Please, don't make a fool of yourself any
more.' It's a dreadful temptation. But I resist
it. I shut my teeth hard She showed how,
laughing and shaking her curls, as she ran away.
A steam-tug now appeared, coming up the river;



and it was soon engaged in helping the grounded
boat off the bar. Still but little progress was made.
The afternoon was hot and sultry, and it was very
dull on board the stealaer.

THE boat which had taken Pinkey's party ashore
now lay unused under the gangway. Jacob, boy-
like, got into it. When the men came to use it
again, he stayed in. He soon began to pull an
oar with them. Then when they left the boat, he
rowed about in it a little on his own account, keep-
ing it within easy reach of the steamer, in case it
should be wanted.
The captain came to the rail and spoke to him.
Jacob held his oars, and looked up, expecting a
Can you pull that boat up to the bank where
Pinkey's party is ? "
Yes, I think so," said Jacob.
Well, we don't want it now, and you might
row it up there and keep it till they want to come
back. We're fast working off now. Tell Pinkey
I '11 blow the whistle for him when we're about
ready to start."
Jacob was delighted. He dipped the oars with a
will. He had never had much practice in rowing
before, and it had a great fascination for him. To
start off now with an actual commission from the
captain-to pull up against the stream to the boat's
previous landing-place-was something to make
him proud.
Oh, let me go with you !" cried a girlish voice,
and Florie's bright eyes and dancing curls appeared
over the steamer's side.
Be still, Florie !" said her mother, drawing
her back.
I shall be glad to have her go, if you are will-
ing," said Jacob.
Florie was accustomed to having her own way,
and she had it now. The mother consulted the
captain, who said there was no danger. Florie
came running down to the lower deck, where Jacob
pulled the skiff alongside, and she was lowered
into it.
"Take good care of her, Jacob!" said the
mother, earnestly.
Oh, I will,-don't fear cried the lad as he
pulled joyfully away, seated on the middle thwart,
with Florie's sunny face beaming on him from the
He ran under the end of the cable, gave the
tug-boat, which was astern of the steamer, a wide
berth, and then pulled over toward the Ohio shore.
They were soon quite close to the other end of the

cable, but on the upper side of it, just above the
fallen trees,-their leafy tops, still green, half im-
mersed in the water ; while the wooded hill rose
high above.
Is n't this nice ? said Florie.
I like it," said Jacob, happier than he had ever
been before.
There was no breeze stirring, but the sun had
gone under a cloud, and the air seemed cool there
by the shore.
Let 's not go for Pinkey's party yet," said
Florie, "but row away up the river, and have a
nice little adventure "
Nothing would have suited Jacob so well. But
he thought he ought to report to Pinkey first. So
he pulled to the landing-place, where he got sight
of two or three of the party up in the woods.
Tell Pinkey the boat is here," he called out to
them. I'll be rowing a little way up the stream
till you're ready to start. But you must start any-
way, the captain says, when the whistle blows."
Having delivered his message, he pushed off
'"Oh, now I hope the whistle wont blow for an
hour exclaimed Florie.
Jacob hoped so too. And they had their wish.
Evening was coming on, while the skiff glided in
and out and up and down by the shore, in the
yellowish current; and still there was no call from
the beach, no signal whistle from the boat.
Suddenly Florie exclaimed: How dark it is
growing Is it night ? "
A vast black shadow had fallen upon the river.
Jacob looked up at the sky.
It's near night, but it's that thunder-cloud
that makes. it so dark. There 's going to be a
storm. I think we'd better put back."
Oh yes said Florie. I'm not afraid, but
mamma will be afraid for me."
Jacob did not fail to notice this evidence of a
tender and thoughtful heart under all the gay
young creature's fun and nonsense. He also re-
membered his own pledge to her mother.
The boat, propelled by his sturdy young arms,
glided rapidly down the stream to the landing-
place, which it reached just as Pinkey's paity--
probably alarmed by the sudden darkness-came
scrambling down the bank all but Pinkey himself
and one of the sisters.
The blackness of the sky and river became ap-
palling. Just then the steamboat's whistle sounded.
A vague fear fell upon Jacob, as he sat by his oars,
impatiently waiting for the passengers. It was
Dory who was missing; and Doshy scolded her
and Alphonse well in their absence, and called
them with loud screams.
A prolonged growl of thunder shook the sky.


Before it had died away, another signal shriek from
the steam-whistle came sweeping across the water,
and died in hollow echoes along the winding and
hilly shores far up the river. At last Dory and
Alphonse came rustling and crashing through the
woods and down the bank.
They were soon aboard. But it was some little
time before the boat, laden with its full freight of
passengers, could be got off. Alphonse appeared
to be out of spirits,-perhaps in consequence of
Doshy's sharp words,-and did not seem to know
what to do. There were two other men aboard,
but they were afraid of muddying their boots.
The management of the whole matter fell upon
He did not lose his wits.
"Get more on to the stern, ladies, if you
please he cried; and, jumping into the water, he
pushed off the bow, which had lodged on the slope
of the bank.
As soon as they were afloat, he was aboard, and
at the oars again.
You 've wet your feet, Jacob, my boy," said
Mr. Pinkey, standing behind him, between the
I may get wetter still,-so may we all! said
Jacob, straining at the oars, as the first great drops
of the thunder-shower began to dance on the
And all on your and Dory's account, Alphonse
Pinkey said Doshy. Just think of our silks,-
it will ruin them "
"Don't you want help, Jacob?" asked one of
the men. I never pulled an oar, but I can
Thank you. We are all right now. We shall
go down fast enough with the current."
Jacob glanced over his shoulder, to look 'at
his course. His face was full of wild energy, and
a dark, wild beauty, with the lurid light upon it.
Florie sat in the stern watching him, without saying
a word.


THEY were not yet in the full current. They were
passing almost within oar's reach of the great tree-
tops in the water, when a voice sang out from the
tug, a few rods off in the stream:
Look out for the hawser! "
Jacob had forgotten all about the hawser. Or,
perhaps, not seeing it anywhere, he thought it had
been cast off from the shore and hauled aboard
the steamer. He looked again. No cable ap-
peared in sight across his course. But now he
heard shouts from the steamer, and again came the

warning cry from the tug: Look out for the
hawser !-the hawser! "
At that moment he caught a glimpse of the
shore end of it, attached to the butt of one of the
great trees. The cable ran down into the water
directly under the course of the skiff. It was
slack. But the stern of the steamboat, to which
the other end was still fast, and which had been
hauled over toward the shore, was now swinging
off again, swayed by the current.
The cable was straightening,-the cable was
rising !
Jacob saw the danger, and backed water with all
his might. The darkness, the splashing rain, the
roar of the thunder, and the shriek of the steam-
whistle added terror to the scene.
He was too. late. The line rose under the bow,
which it caught, and hoisted slowly and steadily
into the air.
The four ladies sprang up with terrified screams,
and either jumped or fell over into the water. One
or two of the men also went overboard. The rest-
Jacob and Florie among the number-clung to the
rearing boat, until, the strained cable rising to a
height of five or six feet, it slid back heavily, and
fell over, capsized, into the water.
When a frightful accident occurs, it is seldom
that anybody can tell afterward just how it took
place. Spectators are often more excited than the
actors in it. Moments seem minutes,--minutes
almost hours. One person remembers vividly one
thing, another something quite different; and no
two tell the story alike.
We are concerned chiefly with what Jacob felt
and saw.
He had not the faintest recollection afterward of
what happened to anybody else, at the time when he
was tumbled into the water by the capsizing of the
boat. He thought of Florie and Alphonse, but
did not see them, and had not the slightest knowl-
edge of what had become of them.
When he rose to the surface after his plunge,
he instinctively caught hold of one side of the
boat, which was uppermost, and held himself
there, with his head above water, while he looked
around. Frantic shrieks filled his ears; and he
saw at his side two women clinging to the boat,
sustained and encouraged by one of the men.
He looked for Florie, and saw the skirt of a
dress afloat just within his reach. He seized it,
and drew hard at it, still holding to the skiff, re-
gardless of the shrieks of one of the women, who,
selfishly viewing only her own danger, told him not
to pull the boat over in that way.
Jacob hauled at the skirt, then grasped an arm
that appeared, and drew a dripping head to the
surface. Everything was so changed by the water,




the gloom, and the terror that seemed to fill the
very air, that it was a moment before he was fully
conscious that it was not Florie whose hand he had
placed securely on the boat. It was one of the
twin-sisters,-Dory, as he afterward learned.
But where was Florie? He remembered her
mother's charge. He remembered, also, that it
was through his own fatal blundering that the ac-

boat, he might regain it, if he had only himself to
care for. But could he hope ever to bring her to
the boat, or reach it himself again, should he try
to save her?
Such thoughts flashed through his mind; he
saw all the danger at a glance; but he did not
hesitate an instant. He launched out from the
boat, caught the struggling hand (one had already


cident had happened; and for the first time felt all
the horror of the situation.
He heard a faint cry, and saw-where she had
not been when he looked before-Florie struggling
at the surface. She had sunk once, and would
presently sink again,-she was already going down.
: Oh, mother 1 mother she gasped.
Her voice died to a gurgle. Then only her
hands were seen.
She was out of Jacob's reach. He was not a
good swimmer. If he had loosed his hold of the

r.. j :-., -
1 ,.J', .. lI ,,, 1 ,.I., "

strong instinct ot selt-preservation, and was drag-
ging him down with her as she sank again in spite
of all his efforts.
The boat was at least three yards away, drifting
slowly with the current. Two persons had reached
the nearest tree-top, where they were cei;i ..- and
calling for help. But the tree-top was as far as the
boat. The oars were adrift. And Florie, who had
not heard, or had not understood, a word he said
to her, was strangling him in her paroxysm of fear.
He succeeded in unclasping her hands from his
neck.. Still, she clung to him, and would not let




him swim. His strength was nearly gone. He
could no longer keep her head above water; he
felt himself sinking.
Suddenly, just as he gave up all hope, a great
object plashed within his reach. It was the haw-
ser, which, having been strained to the utmost by
the swinging off of the steamboat, had now slacked.
He seized it with one arm, supporting Florie
with the other. He feared it would sii-. again,
and carry them down with it. But a boat had
already put off from the tug; swift strokes of six
strong oars brought it to the spot; and Jacob
and Florie were quickly taken aboard.
The four clinging to the boat were next picked
up. Then the two holding to the tree-top were
rescued. The woman was Doshy, and the man
was not Alphonse.
Alphonse alone was missing.
Jacob was quite beside himself with terror and
remorse as they rowed up and down amidst thun-
der and lightning and pouring rain, picking up a
hat or two, and looking for the lost man.
He did not reflect that he had probably been the
means of saving two lives,-that Florie, if not
Dory, would certainly have been drowned but for
him. He did not consider that they might have
been caught by the cable just the same if anybody
else had held the oars; or that they might safely
have passed it but for the delay occasioned by
Alphonse himself. He saw only the frightful fact
that he had had charge of the boat,-that he had

taken it into danger,-that through him his best,
his dearest, his only friend in the world (for he
could not now remember one of Pinkey's faults)
had been drowned.
There could be no doubt of it at last. Great
was the wonder that he, the most accomplished
man of all, should have been the only one to per-
ish. It was hardly possible but that a youth who
knew so many other things, knew also how to
swim, and there was but one theory to account for
his death.
''The boat must 'a' fell on him in the water,
when it slewed off the hawser," said one of the
tug's men. Stunted him, and kep' him from
coming' up to breathe."
The capsized boat had been righted by the
steamer's yawl. If Pinkey had been under it, he
must have sunk and gone down with the current.
No signs of him were discovered, and it soon
became evident that it-was useless to continue the
search with any expectation of rescuing him alive.
It seemed all a terrible dream to Jacob. The
storm, the half-drowned women and girls huddled
in the bottom of the boat, their friends watching
in terrible uncertainty from the steamer, Florie
calling, Mamma! I amsafe! All thiswasbut
the background, as it were, of the awful picture.
The loss of his friend was the chief horror. He
thought of him, but a little while ago so radiant, so
full of life, and now --
Things happened "sudden with Alphonse.

(To be continued.)







" You queer little wonderful owlet! you atom so fluffy and small!
Half a handful of feathers and two great eyes How came you alive at all?
And why do you sit here blinking, as blind as a bat in the light,
With your pale eyes bigger than saucers? Now who ever saw such a sight !

" And what ails chickadee, tell me What makes him so flutter and scream
Round and over you where you sit like a tiny ghost in a dream?
I thought him a sensible fellow, quite steady and calm and wise,
But only see how he hops and flits, and hear how wildly he cries !

"What is the matter, you owlet ? You will not be frightened away !-
Do you mean on that twig of a lilac-bush the whole night long to stay?
Are you bewitching my chicka-dee-dee ? I really believe that you are i
I wish you 'd go off, you strange brown bird-oh, ever and ever so far !

" I fear you are weaving and winding some kind of a dreadful charm;
If I leave poor chicka-dee-dee with you, I'm sure he will come to harm.
But what can I do? We can't stay here forever together, we three-
One anxious child, and an owlet weird, and a frightened chicka-dee-dee !"

I could not frighten the owl away, and chickadee would not come,
So I just ran off with a heavy heart, and told my mother at home;
But when my brothers and sisters went the curious sight to see,
The owl was gone, and there lay on the ground two feathers of chicka-dee-dee i



THEY went.
The lady from Philadelphia had invited Mr. and
Mrs. Peterkin and Elizabeth Eliza and the little
boys to her own house, promising to find rooms
for Agamemnon and Solomon John in the neigh-
borhood, asking them to take their meals at her
But she lived far down in the city, and Mrs.
Peterkin felt she would not want to go such a dis-
tance every day to the exhibition. Agamemnon
and Solomon John proposed stopping at the Great
Atlas Hotel just outside the grounds. The little
boys wished they could spend the night inside.
Meanwhile, a friend told them of lodgings they

could have up-town, on the same side of the river
as the Centennial grounds, and Mrs. Peterkin de-
cided for this. She was afraid of fire in one of the
lath-and-plaster hotels, and Mr. Peterkin agreed
with her.
So a kind and respectful letter was written to the
lady from Philadelphia, declining her invitation,
but hoping to be able to call upon her often during
their visit.
They did not reach their lodgings till late at
night, between eleven and twelve o'clock, so were
scarcely ready for an early start the next morning.
Then they had to hold consultation as to the best
method of proceeding, and to ask their fellow-


boarders how to reach the horse-cars, for they
were shocked to find that they were nearly two
miles from the nearest entrance to the grounds.
Mr. Peterkin, Agamemnon and Solomon John
would not mind -.-,',..-, but Mrs. Peterkin de-
clared it would be too much for her, and the first
day they all wished to go together. Mrs. Peterkin
had brought with her, all the way, a camp-stool,
as she knew she should want to sit down often and
it might be difficult to find a seat.
Elizabeth Eliza had an extra shawl, Mr. Peterkin
his umbrella, and the little boys their coats; they
found it something of a walk to Lancaster avenue,
and they were obliged to take it slowly. By the
time they reached it, every car that passed was so
crowded there was not even a foothold. But the
cars going south were all empty. Agamemnon
had heard from one of the returned Centennial vis-
itors that it was a good plan to take a car going
down to the starting point of the upward bound
cars. This they decided to do, it would give them
also a view of the city. They were about an hour
going down, and a little while finding the right
car, but did reach one with plenty of seats. This
soon became crowded, and was slow in its progress,
and it was a long time before they reached the
grounds. They were then some time in deciding
whether to follow the people who were going into
the Main Building, or those who went in at the prin-
cipal gate. Then Mrs. Peterkin, who carried her
camp-stool, did not like to have the family separa-
ted in going in, so she wanted to manage that all
should go through the turnstile together, which
was difficult to do and to pay their separate fifty-
cent pieces. So when they were all inside, and
Mr. Peterkin looked at his watch, he found it was
already nearly three o'clock Now some of their
fellow-boarders had earnestly advised them to come
back early, as the cars were so crowded at a later
hour. And Mrs. Peterkin had made up her mind
it would be best as it was her first day, to return
at three o'clock. At the same time they discov-
ered they were all very hungry, and Mr. Peterkin
proposed they should go back to some of the
numerous restaurants he had seen outside of the
grounds, and then go home. But they all ex-
claimed against this. They were now in the broad
space between the Main Building and Machinery
Hall when, as they walked on, Elizabeth Eliza
espied the sign of the House of Public Comfort."
This is exactly what we want," said Mr. Peter-
kin. We will get our lunch there."
But, unfortunately, there was a very large crowd
by the lunch counter. It was impossible for the
whole family to press up together, and very difficult
to find anything to eat. Solomon John did find
some popped-corn balls in magenta-colored paper

for the little boys, and Agamemnon secured some
doughnuts for his mother and Elizabeth Eliza,
while his father succeeded in eating a few raw oys-
ters. The crowd was so great that Mrs. Peterkin
could not even open her camp-stool.
"I think now," said she, "we had better go
back, we have had enough for one day, and every-
body says we ought not over-tire ourselves at the
beginning, and I am sure I was over-tired when I
got here."
Agamemnon thought they had not yet fairly
looked at things. They could hardly say when
they went back to their boarding-house what they
had seen. So they all went to the center of the
large square of entrances by the fountain, and
looked at the Main Building on one side, and
Machinery Hall on the other, and decided that
would do for the first day.
They found a car with plenty of seats, and Mrs.
Peterkin felt herself rested for the walk home from
the avenue.
The next day they started early, and were
among the first to reach the grounds.
They proposed to take the tour of the grounds
in one of the railroad cars. In this way they could
get an idea of the whole. They joined a crowd of
people rushing to one of the platforms to secure
seats as a train came along. Mrs. Peterkin was
near being left behind, it was so hard for her to
decide which seat to take; and the hurry was so
great, the rest of the family, thinking she was
going to be left, all got out again and were obliged
to hustle in the minute the train was starting.
The little boys were anxious to get out at the
first stopping-place, but Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin
preferred to make the whole tour and see every-
thing first. In and out they went among the
various buildings. Mrs. Peterkin said she would
ask nothing better than to spend the day in this
way. Agamemnon had a map, and tried to point
out the several buildings as they came to them,
but it was difficult to discover the numbers attached
to them in the map. Meanwhile Solomon John
studied the different colors of the flags. After
some time Elizabeth Eliza said:
I did not know they had so many of these
SWoman's Pavilions.' "
I think they must have one for each State,"
said Mr. Peterkin.
"It is astonishing how much they are alike,"
said Mrs. Peterkin.
With so many buildings," said Mr. Peterkin,
"you could not expect to have them all differ-
"Still," said Agamemnon, "I should not think
they would have so many of these statues of horses
with wings."



They are very fine," said Mr. Peterkin. No
wonder they repeat them so often."
They come in pairs," said Solomon John.
"We have seen them five times. I counted,"
said one of the little boys.
Elizabeth Eliza, started: We must have made
the tour at least five times! I have seen five
Woman's Pavilions "
This is the very place where we got in," said
Solomon John.
The whole family made a rush to get out, for
they had just reached a platform, and the time for
stopping was very short. Mrs. Peterkin stooped
to extricate her camp-stool, which she had put
under the seat, and getting it out with trouble, she
looked up to find that the car was taking her on,
and all the family behind on the platform! She
wished to get out, but was held back by the other
passengers, who declared she would break her
neck if she jumped from the car in motion.
But at the next stopping-place she felt so flustered
she hardly knew what to do, so she kept on and
on till she felt she must somehow make up her
mind to leave that car, and with a desperate resolu-
tion she stepped out on the platform. She found
herself in a deserted part of the grounds, a few
gentlemen only getting out to go to the Brewers'
Hall. Though there was a crowd everywhere else,
it seemed very solitary here. Mrs. Peterkin went
round and round the Brewers' Hall, uncertain
where to go. At last a gentleman noticed her,
and asked if he could help her. When she told
her case, he asked if her family had appointed any
place of meeting in case of accident. Mrs. Peter-
kin thought she remembered their talking of the
Main Building as a rendezvous. The gentleman
advised her taking the train directly for the Main
Building. She shook her head; she had already
spent the morning in the cars. The gentleman
smiled, but asked her to go on with him and he
would show her where to get out.
Mrs. Peterkin joined him gratefully, and they
took a train at a neighboring platform. But they
had not gone very far, and were making another
stop, when Mrs. Peterkin gave a scream There
was her family standing in a row ready to receive
her She was so agitated she could hardly get
out, and almost fainted with delight at the meet-
It appeared that a ticket-seller on the platform
had advised the family to take a train back, and
wait on some platform till they should see their
mother passing. Mrs. Peterkin shuddered to
think how she might have been walking round and
round the Brewers' Hall all day, if it had not been
for meeting the kindly gentleman.
The next thing was to get something to eat,

though Mrs. Peterkin was too agitated to think of it;
they went to the Vienna Bakery, not far away, and
found an immense crowd. Only one or two places
could be obtained in the veranda outside, and the
family took turns in sitting. Then it was that Mrs.
Peterkin found she had left her camp-stool in the
car! The family in general did not regret it, for
it was heavy and inconvenient to carry, and Mrs.
Peterkin confessed she found it difficult to use it,
as it always tumbled over when she went to sit
down. It was one of the three-legged ones.
It seemed now time to go home, but Agamem-
non, who had been studying the map, proposed
they should pass through the Main Building on their
way out, for a glimpse of it, as they had not yet
been inside one of the buildings, and it was their
second day.
They hastened on with this plan, and went in at
the grand middle entrance. And here they felt
as if they were really at the Exhibition. The high
pillars, the crowded aisles, filled them with wonder.
A seat was found for Mrs. Peterkin near the
very middle. Mr. Peterkin, Agamemnon, Solomon
John and Elizabeth Eliza ventured to leave her for
a moment while they looked at the famous Elking-
ton display, and the little boys stood at her side
finishing some popped-corn balls. Suddenly Mrs.
Peterkin saw the rest disappear from her sight.
She sent the little boys to call them back. She
directly left her seat to follow, but she lost sight of
the little boys. There was a seething crowd going
up and down. She tried to return to her seat but
could not find it. Her head was bewildered. She
was sure she must have turned the wrong way. It
all looked so much alike, stair-ways going up to the
dome at each corner, and no signs of her family.
The strains arose from the immense organ of
"Home, Sweet Home." She felt that now she
should never see that home again She sat down,
she got up again A kindly lady asked if she
could help her, and Mrs. Peterkin was forced to
explain, for the second time that day, that she had
lost her family The lady turned to one of the
guards, who asked Mrs. Peterkin many questions.
She described Elizabeth Eliza with a brown dress
and cock's feather in her hat and note-book in her
hand. The guard pointed out seven ladies in
sight, each wearing brown dresses, hats with cock's
feathers, and note-books in their hands,-neither of
them Elizabeth Eliza.
He advised Mrs. Peterkin to wait awhile in the
same place and then go home, as it was growing
late. But how could she go? She did not have
the address of her boarding-place, and never could
remember those numbered streets. It might be
one number just as well as another. The police-
man asked where she came from? If anybody at


home knew her address? Mrs. Peterkin thought
the Bromwichs knew; the Bromwichs planned
coming to the same place. He then told Mrs.
Peterkin not to stir from her seat till he returned.
She ventured scarcely to look to the right or
the left. Indeed, she was almost sure the eye of
another policeman was upon her. How she hoped
the Bromwichs would never know her position !
It seemed an age that the policeman was gone,
yet she was surprised when he returned with her
address, for which he had telegraphed to the Brom-
wichs. Mrs. Peterkin looked at him in dumb sur-
prise, but he hurried her toward the main exit,
promising to show her to the right cars. Slowly
and sadly she followed to the door, when what was
her astonishment to find, across the door-way in
a straight row, her family awaiting her !
They too were under the care of a friendly police-
man, who had advised them to await their mother
there. Eager to leave, they all hurried away, passed
the difficult turnstile, hastened to the cars.
Let us get home! Let us get home ex-
claimed Mrs. Peterkin, unwilling to listen to any
A crowd was pursuing the Lancaster avenue
car, and the family joined in the rush. Mr. Peter-
kin succeeded in lifting in Mrs. Peterkin, Elizabeth
Eliza and the little boys; the rest had to stand all
the way on the edges of the cars.
Mrs. Peterkin reached the boarding-place in
hysterics. She passed a restless night, disturbed
by dreams of walking round and round the Brew-
ers' Hall, of Mr. Peterkin falling from the steps of
the cars and being run over, of policemen watching
her, and she declared they must go home, she
could not stay a day longer.
But all the family exclaimed against this. They
had seen nothing as yet.
They decided to stay, and transfer their quarters
the next night to one of the hotels by the grounds.
According to the advice of one of their fellow-
boarders, after depositing and checking their bag-
gage at the House of Public Comfort, they went
to the Massachusetts Building. Mrs. Peterkin was
enchanted with the parlor and its cheery wood
fire, and declared she would prefer to spend the
day there, instead of going into the crowded build-
ings. She had some rolls and sandwiches that she
had brought from the boarding-house that would
serve for her luncheon, and it was agreed she
should be left there for the day, and that the fam-
ily would return for her at half-past four, in time
for a little walk afterward in the grounds.
The family left her, relieved to think of her com-
fort. The heart of Mr. Peterkin swelled as he
thought she was under the protection of the shield
of Massachusetts.

They decided to separate. Mr. Peterkin and
Agamemnon would take the little boys to the Agri-
cultural Building, and to the American Restaurant
for lunch,, while Elizabeth Eliza and Solomon
John planned the Art Gallery and Les Trois Frdres
Provenaulx, for Elizabeth Eliza had been study-
ing the French grammar, and wanted to try talk-
ing a, little French. They had heard of all these
places from their fellow-boarders. They were to
meet in the Main Building, in front of Egypt, at
half-past three.
They did all assemble there, to their surprise,
but not until much after that hour. Mr. Peterkin
and his party were wild with enthusiasm. They
had been through Agricultural Hall, and had seen
" Old Abe," looking so much like a stuffed eagle,
that they were astonished when he moved his
head. The little boys had bought chocolates and
candies at every refreshment stand, and had eaten
the bread which they had seen made by the baker
of the Queen, and apples cored by the apple-corer,
and had bought little tin pails of the Leaf-lard
man, and had lunched at the Banqueting-hall of
the American Restaurant, and were now eager to
try the restaurants in the Main Building.
Elizabeth Eliza and Solomon John had not so
much to report. They were so crushed in the Art
Gallery by the mass of people, that Elizabeth Eliza
could not even lift her note-book, or examine her
catalogue. She believed they had been into every
room in the Art Gallery and in the Annex, but she
could only look at the upper pictures, and could
not stop at any. She was sure there must be more
United States pictures than from any other coun-
try. The only work of art which she could remem-
ber enough to describe was the large bust of Wash-
ington, sitting on the eagle. They had found a
seat near this, where they could examine it closely,
and wondered why the eagle was not crushed.
Both Solomon John and Elizabeth Eliza agreed
with the little boys that they would like another
lunch, for their expedition to the Trois Frdres was
not satisfactory, and Elizabeth Eliza fancied their
waiter could hardly have been a Frenchman, as he
did not understand her French.
The little boys were now impatient for the restau-
rant, and they found seats in one of the galleries,
where it was so pleasant looking down upon the
crowd below, that Mr. Peterkin decided to go and
bring Mrs. Peterkin to join them, while Eliza-
beth Eliza and Solomon John were to order their
oysters. He looked at his watch, and found, to
his horror, it was now five o'clock! And he
hastened away. He did not seem to be gone long,
for he came back breathless, to say that Mrs.
Peterkin was no longer in the parlor of the Massa-
chusetts Building !




Mrs. Peterkin, meanwhile, had enjoyed a com-
fortable nap in the quiet room, had walked about
to look at the pictures, had eaten her luncheon,
and when the chimes rung twelve, she was sur-
prised to find the day was not farther gone. Still,
she sat awhile, and looked out of the window; but
she grew weary and restless, and when a party set
forth from the room to go to the Main Building,
she decided to join them.
They made a little tour first by St. George's
Hill, the Japanese Dwelling, the Canada Log-
house, and at last entered the Main Building,
and Mrs. Peterkin found herself in Italy. The
party whom she had joined took her to see the
Norwegian groups, where they left her to meet
other of their friends.
She stayed awhile in Norway and Sweden, then
went on to China. Here everything was so strange
that she sunk into a seat bewildered. She felt she
was in the midst of a weird dream,-strange figures
on screens and vases, a mandarin nodding at her,
idols glaring at her. She wished herself back in
the safe parlor; she was sorry she ever had left it.
Ah! did she but know that at that moment
the little boys were trying some ice-cream soda
at a stand near by! Wearily she rose again and
inquired the time, to find it was after half-past
four! In her agitation, she went out in front of
the building, and took the wrong direction. A
kindly lady set her right again, but it was half-
past five when she reached the shelter of the
Massachusetts Building, going up the steps at the
very moment Mr. Peterkin was announcing the

terrible fact of her disappearance to the astounded
Mrs. Peterkin went in, to find every one gather-
ing bags and parcels, preparing to leave. Where
should she go? She rushed madly toward the
door, and there stood the lady from Philadelphia,
who directly declared she would take Mrs. Peterkin
home with her.
Mrs. Peterkin hardly knew how to leave her
family behind in this uncertainty, but she followed
mechanically the lady from Philadelphia and her
party. As they went down the steps, they saw in
front of them Mr. Peterkin and all the family in a
row. Again they had consulted a policeman, who
had advised them to visit the Massachusetts room
once more.
Mrs. Peterkin spent the next day quietly with
the lady from Philadelphia. The rest of the family
went to the Exhibition. They went through the
Machinery Hall, stopping, as the day before, at
every confectionery-stand and refreshment-room,
wasting some time in the middle of the day, be-
cause Agamemnon preferred seeing the Corliss
engine stop, and Solomon John wanted to wait and
see it set going. But they had seen a great deal,
and, to please the little boys, they, had even visited
the Fat Woman outside the grounds.
The next day, the lady from Philadelphia and
her daughters assisted the party to the station. It
was difficult for all to get through the crowd as a
family, but Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin did cling to-
gether, and met Elizabeth Eliza, the little boys, Sol-
omon John, and Agamemnon outside the barrier.


PITTER, patter pitter, patter !
Hear the rain
Beat against the window-pane

Clitter, clatter clitter, clatter !
Tells the tale;
Now the rain is turned to hail!

Soft and light,
Pure and white!
On the ground
Not a sound!
Now we know
It is snow !








ESTHER was a little London girl. When she
was a baby only fourteen months old, she could
run about on her two chubby legs just as well as
any child. Her mother was a poor wash-woman,
whose whole week was made up of Mondays, and
little Esther had to take care of herself a great
deal. Just fancy a baby taking care of its own self!
Esther used to get very tired of it sometimes; and
then her mother would lift her from the floor and
call her a poor little chick-a-biddy, and carry her
to the door, where she could see the people, and
the horses and wagons, and sometimes a happy
baby trundling by in his gay little carriage.
One day when her mother was very busy, Esther
thought it would be nice to take herself to the door,

and when she had reached the door she thought it
would be nicer still to go out into the street and
trudge away-just as everybody else did.
Poor little baby! She knew no better than to go
right in the way of the carriages, and before any one
could save her she had fallen down on the rough
pavement, and men had shouted Look out!" and
a pale crowd had gathered about her insensible lit-
tle form. The driver of the horse that hurt her
looked on hopelessly, and even the horse looked
sorrowfully back at her as he tried to jerk his head
away from the men who held him.
She was not killed, but she was always lame after
that, and had to walk with crutches. In time, she
learned to read and write and sew; and she could


--- ---


play with her rag doll, but she could not run and
romp like other little girls, and she could not
sweep or make beds for her mother.
When she was eight years old her mother was
sick with a fever, and had to stay in bed a great
many days. Esther was a good, kind girl, and she
wished, all the time, that she
could work and earn money to i
buy nice fruits and jellies for i ,
her mother. I
One morning, as she was :-_--
going to the grocer's for tea, --
she stopped at the corner to
look at old Mr. Sunshine's ..' ',
lovely flowers. His real name -
was Anderson, but the chil-
dren called him Sunshine," i .,-
because he was so cheery and '
pleasant, and always had his
finest flowers out in the sun- /
shiny weather. I
Esther had some pennies -
she had been saving up to buy
a doll. But when she saw the
red roses and the bright pinks,
the milk-white lilies and the
pots of forget-me-not, she
thought she would give up il
the doll and buy one of these
sweet flowers for her mother. I 1
She asked the prices of some
of them, and they were all
worth a great many more pen- ,
nies than she could pay. I
suppose she looked very sorry
about it, for Mr. Sunshine said:
"Now, you'd like one of
these roses, would n't you ?" i
"Yes, sir," said Esther;
"but I must wait until I have
saved more pennies."
"Well, now, I '11 tell you
what !" said Mr. Sunshine.
If you 'll sit here on this -- ,
bench and sell this basketful
of nosegays for me, I'll give .."
you the rose."
If Esther had not been lame,
may be she would have danced for joy. As it was,
she looked up in Mr. Sunshine's face with the
gladdest smile you ever saw, and said she would
go right home and ask her mother.
Her mother willingly gave consent; and in a
short time Esther was sitting among the flowers, in
her clean white apron and best hat, looking as nice
as a daisy herself; and now and then somebody
would stop and buy a flower or two.
VOL. IV.-19.

About noon there was quite a rush for nosegays.
A great many gentlemen bought them. Some put
them carefully in their pockets, and some fastened
them in their button-holes, and one gentleman
bought one and put it in the chubby hand of a
little baby he was wheeling in a carriage.

`-- I I ".--

7-I I ..)

-- ~c-- 4 -.-

When Mr. Sunshine came around to look in
the basket there were only three left, and Esther
had a whole handful of pennies for him. Mr.
Sunshine counted them and said it was all right,
and that Esther could take her rose and go home
to dinner. Then he happened to think that Esther
could n't walk with her crutches and carry the rose
too; so he went home with her and carried the
rose. And when he had reached the door he said:




You can come and sell flowers for me every
morning, if you like, and I will pay you a shilling
every noon."
This seemed like a great deal of money to Esther,
and she was almost ready to cry for joy when she
told her mother about it.

So she went every day and sold flowers for Mr.
Sunshine, until by and by she had plenty of money
for oranges, and had saved enough to set up a little
flower-stand of her own, close beside Mr. Sunshine,
who was very glad of her company. And this was
how little Esther came to be a flower-girl.



DID you ever look a fish in the face? If not,
you may now have an opportunity, for here are the
faces of six fishes.
No. I is a Rock-Bass (Ambloplites rufestris,
Raf.),* a fish found in many waters, and is our
representative of the family of sun-fishes. When
only an inch or two long, it is a favorite aquarium


fish, on account of its beautiful sides, marbled in
black and bronze. All the family are eaters of
flesh, and this front view shows us how admirably
they are fitted to cleave the water in their rapid
course. This fish and his nearest cousins are the
Paul Prys of the water, always wishing to know all
about it. They seem, in the aquarium, to be ani-
mated interrogation points. Let a snail go up to
get a breath of fresh air, and a sun-fish has watched
the whole proceeding. A darter, buried in the
sand, has moved his tail until the edge of the fin
has come through; and a sun-fish is standing on
his head over the spot, wondering what it would be
best to do about it.
They glide through the water with no apparent
exertion, except a gentle fanning of the throat-fins,
prominent in the picture.

No. 2 is a Horned-Pout (Amiurus nebulosus,
Le Sueur), belonging to the family of cat-fishes.
Living upon the bottom, those eight barbels on his
face and lips probably serve as organs of sense,
aiding his little eyes to find his dinner. Boys be-
lieve these fishes see best by night, or when the
water is muddy, and claim to be more successful
then in catching them. That they are slow swim-
mers is evident from their shape, as seen in front;
and a vessel modeled from a cat-fish would never
be much of a sailer. .They live on worms and such
slow-moving animals as they find on or near the
bottom, or eat dead food, thus acting as scaven-
No. 3 is a Log-Perch (Percina cafrodes, Raf.),
one of the family of darters. They are confined
to the United States, and are found in most West-
ern streams. They swim mostly by quick move-
ments of the greatly expanded throat, or pectoral,
fins, which, in the figure, look like wings. They
have very queer ways, and are constant sources of



pleasure and amusement to the owners of aqua-
ria. Climbing weeds, burrowing in the sand,
perched on stones, or cracking the shell of an un-
lucky snail against the glass side of their prison,

The abbreviation Raf. after the scientific names of fishes indicates that they were first described by Rafinesque, a very great naturalist,
who traveled in 1820 in the valley of the Ohio, collecting and describing its animals and plants. He worked without the aid of the Government
or of wealthy institutions of learning, often traveling long distances on foot with a pack of specimens on his back. People used to suppose
in those days that all the great naturalists lived in Europe; and it therefore happened that he and his fishes were long neglected. But now
these errors are disappearing.




they seem possessed of more than fishy knowledge.
Their teeth and habits show them to be carnivor-
No. 4 is the Stone-Lugger (Hypentelium nigri-
cans, Le Sueur), belonging to the family of suck-
ers. It shows its relationship in this front view of
its mouth, looking as if pouting. It is found on
stony ripples, where it lies head up-stream, in small
companies; and when disturbed, it darts swiftly
away. It is a fish of such singular beauty when
small, that it would be adapted for the aquarium,
were it not almost impossible to obtain specimens

: "--. "' ".


of small size; it having, probably, a rapid growth.
It is supposed to be by preference an eater of
vegetables, but is often caught with a hook baited
with worms. It gets its name of lugger" in the
North, and of "toter" in the South, from a sup-
posed habit of carrying small stones on its head.
It is certain that it moves stones by inserting its
flat head under them.
No. 5 is called the Goblin (Pegedicthys icta-
hZrops, Raf.). It is the fresh-water representative
of the family of cottoids, most of its relatives thriv-


ing only in salt-water. It has been found in
springs in Kentucky, and also in caves in the same
State. It is supposed to enter the caves to catch

the blind-fish living in them. The specimen from
which the drawing was made was found in White
River, at Indianapolis. It was the only one caught


.- ".'Nw .- -.


during many months' fishing, and it may have
been a straggler. With its enormous pectorals,
mailed head, and little eyes, it looks idiotic; and
our specimen never proved its sanity, for it died
the first night after we put it in the aquarium.
No. 6 is Rosy-face (Alburnellus rubrifrons,
Cope), a very indefinite name for one of the great
family of minnows, or cyprinoids. They are all
toothless, being vegetarians, and are of much value
in the aquarium, eating away the minute plants
and decaying vegetation. Many of them are very
pretty, especially in the spring, when they become
brilliantly colored and sprout little knobs on their


noses. To this family belong the dace, the chubs,
the minnows, and, in fact, the greater number of
the little fish that fill the brooks and that awaken
every one's first interest in fishes. I hope none
of us may ever be far removed in spirit from those
days when a thread, a bent pin, a hazel rod, and a
cup of angle-worms completed our idea of outfit;
and a forked stick strung full of shiners made
our cup of happiness run over. If whatever knowl-
edge we may now have should make us despise
these youthful joys, we should never look a fish in
the face again.




WHEN I was a little girl,.I lived on a farm where there were a great
many chickens and ducks and turkeys, and among them there was a brown
hen named Yellowfoot, who wanted very much to have a nice family of little
yellow chickies; and she knew if she laid an egg every day until there
were twelve eggs, and then sat on them patiently three weeks, she would
have twelve dear little chicks.
So she laid a nice white egg every day. But she never could get
twelve, because every day the cook took her egg away; and so Yellow-
foot felt very sadly.
Now another hen, named Tufty, thought it would be nice to have little
chickens too; but she was very smart, and she found a place away off,
that the cook did n't know about, and there she hid her eggs; and one
day she surprised all the other hens by walking into the chicken-yard with
twelve little chickens toddling after her!
Now I had heard how sorry poor Yellowfoot felt because she had no
little chickens, and when I saw Tufty walking about so proudly with her
twelve, I felt very sorry indeed for Yellowfoot.
Well, that very afternoon something very funny happened. I was walk-
ing about the farm, and I found in the corner of a rail-fence a turkey
sitting on some eggs, and running around near her a little lonely chicken
just out of its shell, making such a pitiful little "peep-peep." I took it
up in my apron and ran and asked one of the men what it could mean,
and he said that a hen's egg had by mistake been put with the turkey's
eggs, and as it takes a week longer for turkeys' eggs to hatch than it does
for hens' eggs, the poor little chicken had come out of its shell a week
before there was anybody to take care of it.
When I heard this, I thought: Poor little chickie! what will you do,
for I don't know how to take care of you at all, and it will be a week
before that ugly turkey gets ready to do it, and you '11 be dead by that
time?" And then suddenly I thought: "Why, this little chick is just as
old as the twelve that were hatched this morning; now I '11 take it to the
chicken-yard and put it down among them, and Tufty will take care of
it." So I ran to the chicken-yard and put it with the other little chicks,
and it ran after Tufty just like the others.
But you cannot believe how badly Tufty acted! The minute she heard
the strange little "peep" with the twelve other little "peeps," she turned



around and stood still a minute, and then all her feathers began to stick
out, and she bobbed her head a minute, and then she pounced at my poor
little chicken and gave her an awful peck!
Was n't it cruel? I did not know what to do. I was afraid to go
near Tufty, because she would think if I went near her that I was going
to catch her little chicks, and I knew she would
try to peck me just as she did my poor little
chicken. While I was thinking, she flew at it
again and gave it another peck. This time I
did n't stop to think, but I jumped and caught
it, and ran before Tufty could catch me. I ran
till I felt quite safe, and then sat down on the
kitchen door-step, with my poor chick in my
apron, and cried. I think I must have
cried pretty loud, because mother heard
me and came out.
When I had told her all about
it, she said: Why did n't you
try old Yellowfoot?"

....~~~-- --- -- -2 ..__--..

At that, I jumped up and clapped my hands with delight, and my poor
little chicken dropped on the grass; but it did n't hurt it, and I put it
carefully back in my apron, and went to the chicken-yard again, to try
mother's plan.
I had a hard time finding old Yellowfoot, but finally I came upon her,
looking very doleful, in the bottom of a barrel. I poked her with a stick,
but she would not come out. So, finally, I turned the barrel over, so she



had to come out. But she looked very angry, and made a great deal of
noise about it. I waited till she got quiet, and then I put my little chicken
down by her. And, oh! you should have seen her then! She looked at
it a minute, and, when it "peeped," she gave a quiet little cluck," just as
if she were trying it to see how it sounded. And then the little chicken
" peeped" again, and Yellowfoot clucked" again and walked ahead a little,
and chickie followed her.
So my little chicken had found some one to take care of her, and I
named her Lucky right away. And, oh! how proud Yellowfoot was!
She strutted everywhere with her one chick, and all the love and care that
she was going to give to twelve she. gave to this one. She scratched for
it, and "clucked" for it, and fought for it, and gave it all the broad cover
of her warm wings at night. And little Lucky seemed to know that she
had all the care that was meant for twelve, for she was the happiest little
chick that ever lived.


ONE little kitten
Scrubbing down its nose;
The other little kitten
Smelling of a rose.

One little kitten
Scratching up a tree;
The other little kitten
Nestling close to me.

One little kitten
Dashing at a fly;
The other little kitten
Singing Baby bye."

One little kitten
Not a word to say;
The other little kitten
Talking all the day.



One little kitten,
Downy soft with fur;
The other little kitten-
Who can picture her?

Darling little kitten,
Rosy, dimpled, curled,
She's my wee, white kitten
Out of all the world !


-',,, "i' Z

Little Motler. Now, Dolly, can you look me in the face and say you
did n't go down to the river while I was at church ? You can't say it, I
see you can't, and you must go to bed without your supper.


- --v


GOOD-DAY to you, my chicks Christmas and
"New Year's" are gone, and the good, steady,
every-day work of the year is fairly begun. All
hail to modest little February, with its fewer days
and meeker manners !-and health and happiness
to every one of you, my Valentines !

JACK hears queer things out here in the woods.
Last summer, there was a picnic under the trees
quite near me, and I overheard a tallish man in
green glasses telling a party of youngsters that
according to the ancient myths, there used to be
in certain countries were-wolves,-persons who,
through some bad influence, had changed into wild
Just to think of it! It fairly made me shudder;
but the story-teller went on to say that these were-
wolves often became themselves again through a
kind word, or by being recognized by their fellow-
creatures. To illustrate this, he told the following
One Christmas-eve, a woman, whose husband
had years before turned into a wolf and disap-
peared, went at night to the pantry to lay aside a
joint of meat for to-morrow's dinner. There she
saw a wolf standing with its paws on the window-
sill, looking wistfully in at her. 'Ah, dearest,' said
she, 'if I knew that thou wert really my husband,
I would give thee a bone!' Whereupon the wolf-
skin fell off, and her husband stood before her in
the same old clothes that he had worn on the day
when he became a wolf."
Ah, my beloved, I am afraid there are were-
wolves yet in the world-men and women, and even
little children, who, through want and suffering
and vice, have become brutal. But underneath the
wolf-skin is the human heart, and a kind word in

recognition of the fact that they are still human
will go a long way toward changing them to their
better selves. The old charm has not lost all its
power. Try it. I dare say you girls and boys
may some day meet with were-wolves,-coarse,
gruff, brutish creatures. Don't be afraid of them,
and, above all, don't speak rudely to them. Say a
kind word to them, and see if the wolf-skin does n't
fall off.
Newburyport, Mass., Oct. 25.
DEAR JACK: Please ask ST. NICHOLAS to put me down a Bird-
defender, for I have always loved birds, and shall be glad to do any-
thing to help them. When we lived in New York, I always fed the
sparrows in Stuyvesant Park during the winter. I used to take bits
of stale bread, and crumble it over a certain grass-plot, giving a pecu-
liar cry as I did so. The minute I gave that call, the sparrows would
fly down,-sometimes over a hundred of them,-and pick up the
crumbs, shrieking, and scratching, and pecking one another with their
beaks-all trying to get the largest pieces. In spring, when they
were building their nests, I used to take them cotton-wool, about
which they were still more eager.-Your loving friend,
SUPPOSING we could all live without air,-which
it is very certain we cannot,-but I 'm only sufi5os-
ing. Supposing, then, that there were no need of
breathing, and that there was no atmosphere, could
we hear anything?
No, this busy, beautiful earth, and the sky about
it, would be as still as the grave. Not a human
voice could be heard, nor song of bird, nor the
murmur of winds.
Did you ever think of it before ? But that is not
all. Not only would all sounds be hushed, but,
according to certain learned birds, all sight would
be lost. Not an image could be carried to our eyes.
Not only flowers and faces would vanish; the very
light of sun and stars would come to us no more.
These remarks, my dears, are not intended to
harrow your feelings, but simply to prompt you to
look into this matter of the atmosphere. You'll
find that authorities differ in regard to the carrying
of light and sound; and it is not at all certain that
somebody may not be mistaken.

HERE is a fable that has never been told in print,
though it is very popular in the Bee country:
Once upon a time, there was a bad king, and
the people wished him to make a certain good law.
"No," said he, "I will not make that law,-it is
too good. It will make peace. Here is the law I
wish to make. Then all my people will go to
The two documents lay in front of him on
the table all written out, and whichever one he
signed would be the law of the land. He took up
a big quill pen, drew the bad law nearer to him,
and dipped the pen in the ink.
Just then, a bee began to buzz. It was a wise
Z-z-z-z-z No zuch zlaw zhall pazz! buzzed
the bee, over and over again; but no one noticed
him. Zign ze ozzer-ze ozzer-ze ozzer "
The king would not listen; so the wise bee lit



on his nose and stung him just a little, still buz- over the well-paved ways, once so wild and swampy,
zing: Zign ze ozzer,-zign ze ozzer,-ze ozzer,- and to see his astonished gaze as the long lines of
ze ozzer,-ze ozzer lighted lamps revealed tall fronts of stately marble
"Open the window," roared the king, "and stores and brown-stone houses; and on through the
drive out this bee, or kill him "
They opened the window. Out flew the --:.- -- -
bee, and in rushed the wind. It blew in very- a '
hard. The papers flapped and flew across ---.
the table. The bad king was so mad that i"
he stamped his foot, seized one of the papers, -
and signed it in a rage. There was his r'
name,-" King Blunderbuss,"-and nothing -" 4-- '" '
could alter it. Then he saw that in his haste i
and rage he had signed the good law. But '' f -
he was too proud to own his mistake.
The bee hurried to the garden and whis- ''- .- -"
pered to the honeysuckles: -- -
"Zome of your bezt,-zome of your bezt !
The good law iz zigned, and all zhall be peaze and beautiful Central Park, and-still further, over well-
happinezz made roads-out into the open country beyond it,
So the honeysuckles gave him all their best yet still within the city's limits ? Do you think that
honey, and the people outside of the king's palace the ancient alderman would recognize in the great
built great bonfires and shouted with joy: new city the quiet village that he once knew and
Long live the king! Long live the good King loved ?
Blunderbuss!" A TRUE MULE STORY.
Oho said the king to himself, when he heard Lebanon, La.
this; "that is the best sound I have heard for DEAR JACK: The rescue of a mule in Bienville Parish, La., from
many a year." a well sixty feet deep, caused so much surprise and interest here lately
And after that, he was afraid to give way to that I send an account to you.
AndIt is vouched for by some of the best citizens of this place, who
anger, for fear he might sign a bad law, by mis- witnessed it, and I assure you it is every word true.
take. The bee did not have to light on his nose This mule fell hind-feet backward into an old dry well sixty feet
a Te in ae o i o s deep; it is supposed that the edge of the well caved in with him.
again. The king made only good laws, and to All efforts to rescue him were fruitless, as he was completely wedged
the end of his days his people shouted: in. Finally, the owner of the mule, supposing that the poor creature
SLong live the king was severely injured by the fall, decided that it would be more mer-
ong live te g ciful to have him killed than to allow him to starve to death. Not
knowing any other way of dispatching him, he had a cart-load of dirt
thrown in upon him. But, instead of allowing himself to be buried
NEW YORK STREET-LAMPS IN 1697 AND 1876. alive, his muleship quietly shook off the dirt and pressed it down with
his feet; thus raising himself several inches above his original posi-
WELL, well! What things a Jack-in-the-Pulpit tion. Another load was thrown in, with the same result; and then
may hear if he listens to human folk If Deacon some one said that if the mule would continue trampling down the
may dirt, it was possible that he might be extricated: it would be no
Green and the Little Schoolma'am had not talked harm to try, any way. Acting on this suggestion, all the farm-
about them, as they sat on the willow-stumps last hands went to work filling the well, carefully pouring the dirt in on
the sides, so as not to hurt the mule. It was slow work filling that
summer, watching the fire-flies, how could your deep well, but a hearty interest was awakened by the perseverance
Jack have learned anything about such things as with which the poor animal tramped down the dirt, and all worked
street-lamps ? with willing hands.
treet-lamp Slowly but surely, inch by inch, did he ascend, until the great well
It appears that in the seventeenth century, when was filled within a few feet of the top; then, as complacently as if
the city of New York was but little more than a "ohing strange had happened, his muleship stepped out safe and
S y o w Y sound!
village, there was for a long time no system of I think, if he could have then been blessed with the gift of speech,
lighting the streets. On dark nights, each citizen he would have said, "All's well that ends welll" Wasn't he a
0 plucky old fellow? PLEASANT RIDERHOOD.
who ventured out-of-doors was expected to provide plucky old fellow? PLEAANT R
himself with a lantern; and at long intervals one COMFORT FOR SHORT FOLKS.
might see a lighted lamp hung in front of the door
of some wealthy citizen. THOSE tiresome people the statisticians-who,
It was not until 1697 that the aldermen were nevertheless, find out so many things that the
charged to enforce the duty, that every seventh world is very glad to know-tell us that on all long
householder, in the dark time of the moon, cause marches, or undertakings requiring great strength
a lantern and a candle to be hung out of his win- and endurance, it is the tall men who fail first. In
dow on a pole, the expense to be divided among Arctic, or in African explorations, and in armies
the seven families." and navies the world over, it has been found that
This was probably considered an excellent way short men are the longest-workers. So, if any of
of street-lighting at the time. But what a change my boys think that they are not growing tall fast
would one of the aldermen of 1697 find, could he enough, let them remember that what they lose in
now follow on some moonless night the double height they may gain in powers of endurance; and
line of gas-lamps extending from the Battery to in the long run these are worth more than any other
Fordham, a distance of fifteen miles Who would personal possession, saving always an honest, open
not like to accompany him as he silently passed heart and conscience.



Words by ALBA (Little Folk Songs). Music by F. BOOTT.
A llegreto (Clhorms in unison).

Ha rum Sea rum, Wi kum Wa -rum, A ter r ble fel low is Ha rum Sea rum
Ha -o-- e -con Wa -- rmA e- i Ha-- rumSea

Ha run' Sca rum, Will- kum Wa -rtur, A ter -ri ie el -low is I:Ia -rum Sca -rum !

____ t-' '

'....--- ---I

Up the stairs and in -to the door, Scatt'ring things all o ver the floor, Thro' the win- dows and

-- -- --

Q^~ T~-P--,-----E=^=

- P- 9- -i- .-O .-&

9 4
~- -- f L-j u


* 9 9 ___ ANN4~z~ -t-----H 7i1b -~ ~~~11

out on the leads, Shak- ing the house a bout our heads,

Shak ing the house

-,- -_---_-- --------- ---9- -- ---- ------

---'-t f ----------------- -,----------_----
-_i_- I --ot o adt-s-. g- ___.

bouo ou o- ou ou -ou o ou ou- ou o ou ou ou out our heads.

tr tr 7

tr Ir
-' -1-P



--- ~--' --c- -




a .. it




Down the chim ney in clouds of smoke, To put out the fire he thinks a fine joke, While the

d. To put out the fire he thinks a fine joke, While the

While the


house-dame coughs and chokes and scolds, While the house-dame coughs and chokes and scolds, And sneezes her spec- ta- cles,

---N-_h -i-------H-- -__-_____

house-dame coughs and chokes and scolds, While the house-dame coughs and chokes and scolds, And sneezes her spec- ta- cles,

house-dame coughs and chokes and scolds, While the house-dame coughs and chokes and scolds, And sneezes her spec ta cles,

------f-----W- ----------_3_0---F _--_--
w i- --

snee zes her spec- ta cles, snee zes her spec- ta cles in to the coals.

snee- zes her spec ta es, snee zes her spec t clues in to the coals.
fre all., ____.___ 4

S snee zes her spec ta es i to the coals.
__. __ f

se cc ,es ler spec ta ces in -to the coals.

f_ i i -
cTes. f o f___ ff



.,-t-t-t- -t-
A- i j





WE are not afraid of congratulating ourselves too much upon hav-
ing so good and wise a person as Thomas Hughes to talk to our
readers. Mr. Hughes is one of England's cleverest writers and best
men. He was educated first at Rugby, where the celebrated Latin
scholar, Dr. Arnold, was Master, and then at Oxford University;
and his School-days at Rugby and Tom Brown at Oxford" are
spirited and truthful accounts of his own school-life. These books
will be read with delight by young and old for years and years to
come. Mr. Hughes has also written several other works, which are
equally entertaining in their way, if they do not contain quite as
much hearty fun as the college stories. After graduation, Mr. Hughes
studied law, attained a high position in his profession, and finally be-
came a member of the British Parliament, where he distinguished
himself by his wise and liberal actions. He has always been a sturdy
friend to America, and in 1869 made us a long visit, lecturing in
several cities, where he was warmly and honorably received.
We have great faith that our boys-and girls too-will put a true
value upon the thoughtful words he writes. But let the motto
" Festina lente prompt them to make haste slowly as they read the
article, so as to take in the full meaning of the honest, strong-hearted
Englishman, who is known all over the English-speaking world as
the friend of the school-boy.

THERE was a slight error in Prof. Proctor's article in the January
number. It is to be found in the sentence concerning Taurus, in the
first column on page 171. The statement there made was intended
to refer to the Pleiades instead of to Taurus, so that the proper read-
ing is: The Pleiades now shine highest in the skies at midnight
toward the end of November," etc.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Can any of your readers find The Hidden
Flower," in the following verses?
Far from haunts by mortals known,
Long had a tiny floweret grown;
A brook flowed near in noisy strife,
And gave the tender blossom life.
There, happy in its humble sphere,
Naught marred its joy from year to year.
One summer morn the sun rose bright,
The flower rejoiced to see his light;
But now beneath his scathing beam
More shallow grew the narrow stream;
Arose as mist toward the sky,
And left its stony pathway dry;
And soon with sadly drooping head
The little flower lay withered dead.
Exfianation -Take the first letter of the first line, the second
letter of second line. the third of the third, and so on to the twelfth
line; and the name Forget-me-not will appear.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought, as so many of the girls and
boys have written you, I would try my hand at a note, and see if you
will be glad to receive it. I have a cat which every one thinks is a
model. He is of a very musical turn of mind. He will not be sat-
isfied with any bed but the piano. He also sits on the stool and runs
scales with his fore-paws. It may seem to be a large story, but it is
true.-Yours truly, MARGUERITE B. NEWTON.

DEAR, LOVELY ST. NICHOLAS: We like you ever and ever so
much, and wish you came every day instead of every month. We
see so many letters in the "Letter-Box that we thought we should
like very much to write and thank you for the very great pleasure
you afford us, and also those boys and girls whose letters we find it
such fun to read. We like Jack, too, and wish he really was a flower
that we might gather him in the field, and take him home to keep
forever; only that would be selfish.
Can you tell us where we may find the line "An undevout as-
tronomer is mad?" BERTIE AND HATTIE H. BROWN.
The line referred to is in Young's "Night Thoughts"-Night IX.,
line 771.

Charlestown, Jefferson Co., West Virginia, Nov. 28, r876.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I broke my bank open to get these three
dollars to send you, so you will please send me ST. NICHOLAS for the
next twelve months. Please send it to me, and oblige yours,
P.S.--I would rather have your ST. NICHOLAS than a big dog with
a brass collar. WELLS.

Chester, Pa., 1876.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Can you, or any of your readers, inform
me the date of the day upon which Russia acknowledged the inde-
pendence of the United States ? If you can, I will be very thankful,
for I have looked in several histories to find out, but they only state
that Russia acknowledged it in July, 1783. I like "Jon of Iceland,"
and think the Boy Emigrants" is the best story ever published.-
Your constant reader, HIRAM HATHAWAY, JR.

Russia could not acknowledge our independence. She might have
recognized it, but did not do so for a long time after the Revolu-
tion. When, in 1777, we applied to several of the European Powers
for assistance and recognition, Russia was not called a great Power,
and we did not apply to her. In December, 1780, Francis Dana,
of Massachusetts, was elected Minister to Russia, and he reached
St. Petersburg in September, 1781. It was hoped that he could then
secure our recognition, but he was advised by friends not to present
his letters, as he would not be received. For a long time Mr. Dana
lived there as a private citizen, and then, in February, 1783, he sent
in his letters. After a long delay, he was informed that he could not
be officially received till Great Britain had received an American
Minister. These were hard terms, and Mr. Dana returned home in
August, 1783. For a long time we had no diplomatic relations with
Russia. In 1791, our ships began to call at Russian ports, and a
friendly trade sprang up and grew so fast, that Russia, at last, asked
us to send a Minister to her court. In June, 1809, John Quincy
Adams was appointed Minister to Russia, and that was the begin-
ning of our intercourse. The first treaty with Russia was a com-
mercial one, and was signed in 1824. Russia has always been our
friend, but she did not formally recognize us till she asked us to
send a Minister to her court in i809.

MRS. DODGE: Please don't make any mistakes in having our de-
lightful magazine in Chicago on time, as I get into all sorts of
trouble when the 2oth passes without it. Just as soon as that day
comes, and I get home at night, a crowd of little heads appears over
the banister of the stairs, and a perfect chorus of voices demands,
" Where is the ST. NICHOLAS? The last number was a few days
late, and there was much disappointment among our little olive-
branches; and I must concede I shared it with them. But when it
did come, we were all richly repaid for the delay. It is a perfect
casket of gems, and is the most welcome visitor that comes to our
house. We talk of it to all our friends; and I believe if every father
who loves his pets only knew the delight it would afford them, that
your subscribers would be counted by millions. A. L. M.
ST. NICHOLAS for December was purposely delayed by the pub-
lishers. It was an extraordinarily large number, and was the Christ-
mas number of the present volume.

Monticello, Minn., 1876.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Yes, I will do it. Do what ? Write to the
ST. NICHOLAS "Letter-Box." I am one of the children between
the ages of eight and eighty who have read every number of the
beautiful and delightful magazine since published. And is n't it de-
lightful ? Beautiful inside and out ? Just look at the gay but chaste
covers-so cheerful!
This writing to the "Letter-Box is what I have been inclined to
do every month, after having read and enjoyed the book. I wanted
to express my thanks to the publishers, and to Mrs. Dodge, for the
delightful enjoyment it has given me, and those for whom it is sent.
I was deterred from doing this when I thought of how many, nany
letters had to be read, and how much labor performed. But I just
want to tell, in addition to the testimony of the lady of Beverly, New
Jersey, how the good and delight which ST. NICHOLAS affords may
be extended, and hundreds of children who are hungry for such
reading and illustrations may be supplied.
Out in Oregon, I have six nephews and nieces, whom I have
never seen. I wanted to make them a Christmas present, and



brought on a headache thinking what would please them all. ST.
NICHOLAS eased the headache, and was just the thing; and so it has
gone to them ever since. I cannot begin to tell of the pleasure given
and received-of the letters and postal-cards coming back, saying:
" Oh, aunty, we are so delighted with ST. NICHOLAS It is just
While in Kansas, I managed to let a good many children read my
copy before sending it to Oregon; and just here comes the place to
say what I am writing for.
I know there are hundreds of kind children who would willingly
contribute toward copies for other children who have no such read-
ing, nor means to get it, if only they knew how and where to send.
Perhaps many of you have helped to endow the "Churchman
Cots" in St. Luke's Hospital, New York, and other places, during
the last year.
If some wise man or woman could suggest the better way, how
many more copies of ST. NICHOLAS can be put into the hands and
homes of children who have no such pleasures! Surely to all of us
occur some child or family to whom a whole year can be made happy
every month, by a gift of ST. NICHOLAS, which may be subscribed
for at any time of the year. Think of the untold happiness that can
be given, if only the army of ST. NICHOLAS'S patrons will enlist and
scatter the magazine in the homes now without it.

Spencer, Ind., 1876.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl six years old, and I want
to write a letter to the Letter-Box and surprise my papa. Papa has
taken the ST. NICHOLAS for me three years. I think your pictures
and stories are very nice. I have a pretty canary bird, but I am a
bird-defender. I went to the "Centennial and saw the Colorado
woman's museum you told us about. Good-bye.

A CORRESPONDENT sends us this piece of Poetry," requesting that
we sign it only with his initiall "

THE Aurora is a balloon of colour yellow,
Able to sail across brooks, rivers, and medows;
Made of cotton and of cords by human men
And filled about one third with hydrogen.

It rose up in the air; a beautiful sight!
And like a bird commenced its airy flight;
To seaward it went, pushed by a gentle breeze,
And, going, men could see its size diminishing.

Beautiful as the sun shown on its sides,
We men below shouted, yelled and cried;
When Godard, the owner of the balloon,
Waved his hat, but he out of sight was soon.

The Aurora continued on its airy course,
Steady as a mule and swift as a horse,
Until it arrived at the other side of the Seine,
And descended near the edge of the treacherous main.

It was then packed up in a very small space,
And sent away to Paris,-that great place
For balloons, and for voyages to the moon;
And there it could hold up its head and wave its plumes
With the greatest of its race. W.

C II. Point, L. 1., 1876.
To THE EDITOR OF ST. NICHOLAS: 11 .j please publish an
account of the process of the manufacture of marbles in your next
number? I have asked several teachers, but have been quite unsuc-
cessful in learning how, and where they are made.
I thought I would ask you, as the ST. NICHOLAS is always eagerly
read, and the boys will be ever so much obliged for the information.
-Very respectfully, CLARA S. MARHOLD.
In making marbles, glass, agate, china, or porcelain and crystalline
limestone or marble are used; and by painting, glazing, polishing,
and decorating these materials, over one hundred different kinds of
marbles are manufactured. The cheaper marbles are made of com-
mon crockeryware. Girls and boys pick up small lumps of the wet
clay, and skillfully roll them into little balls in their hands. These
balls of clay are then ranged on tables in the open air, or under open
sheds to dry. When they are partly dried they are rolled between
the palms once more, and then placed, one at a time, on tiny three-
legged stools or tripods, in a kiln or oven. When the oven is full, a
fire is made under it, and the marbles are baked till they are as hard

as a piece of chinaware. These porcelain marbles are made in a num-
ber of different sizes, and in a number of shades of blue, white, and
brown. Some look like the brown tea-pots used to steep tea on the
stove. Others have a beautiful pearly glaze, like the best china tea-
cups; some are painted in bright colors on a dull surface; and some
have the colors burned in, just as the gold bands and pictures are
burned into dinner-plates. You can readily tell the china marbles by
looking at them closely, and there you will find three little marks or
blemishes showing where the soft marble stood on its little ircn tripod
in the oven. The glass marbles are made either of clear glass or of
the colored glass the glass-blowers use. The clear glass marbles are
made by dipping an iron rod in the melted glass, and taking up a
little bunch of the white, hot, sticky, paste. By dropping this into an
iron mold, or by whirling the rod round in his hand, the glass-man
makes little globes of glass that, after they have been hardened or
annealed in a furnace, make the big marbles boys so delight to use.
Sometimes the glass-man puts a glass figure of a dog, or other ani-
mal on the end of his iron rod, and then the hot glass flows all round
it, and when it is done there is the dog locked up in the marble. To
make the colored glass marbles the glass-maker puts a number of
glass rods of different colors together in a bundle, and then holds the
ends in a hot fire, and they melt and run together. Then, with a quick
twist, he turns the end into a round ball, or drops it into a mold,
and the pretty marble, marked with bands and ribbons of color, is
finished. You can always tell which are the glass marbles by the
little mark on one side where the ball was broken from the rod when
it was finished. The agates,-the most valuable of all marbles,-are
made of real agate. Workmen pick up bits of the rough stone and
hold them against a grindstone. By moving them quickly about on
the stone, the piece of agate is gradually filed down into a nearly per-
fect ball. If you hold an agate between the eye and the light you
can see the little facets, or marks made by the grindstone dotted all
over the marble. The common marbles are made of marble, or other
hard stone, by placing bits of stones in a heavy mill, where they are
rolled round and round between two mill-stones, and gradually worn
down into smoothballs. Another method is to place a strong wooden
barrel on bearings so that it will easily turn over and over on its axis.
This barrel is usually placed in a small stream or brook, and is so
arranged that the water will turn it over and over like a water-wheel
as it rushes under it. Bits of stone put in the barrel then, tumble one
over the other for hours, and grind and rub against each other till
they come out smooth and round. Such a barrel is called a tum-
ble," and any boy living near a brook could, without much trouble,
make one, and manufacture his own marbles at very little expense.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you for a year; we all like
you very much. I was very interested in that piece in the Young
Contributors' Department," AJy Squirrel." I like animals very
much. Many thanks to Mr. Noah Brooks for his delightful story.
I like all the stories very much; they give so much information. The
"Letter-Box" is very nice; I enjoy reading it. There is one ques-
tion I would like to ask, and that is, Are you ever going to have any
more German stories for translation ? That was the principal reason
for taking the book with mamma, that we might improve in our
German. I hope you will have one soon. I am going to try to be
"worth my weight in gold" in sewing. I will now close.
Yours truly, T. L.

Vicksburg, Miss.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: As you told us some time ago how to make
a fort, the idea occurred to us boys that a fort should have soldiers
to defend it. So, after many trials, we succeeded in malting some,
which we thought were very nice. And I thought the readers of the
ST. NICHOLAS might not know how to man their forts, so I would
write and tell you, and then you could tell them.
The way we make them is this: Take a piece of letter-paper,
draw a soldier on it in any position you want,-either on guard,
charging, etc. Then cut out the pape. ... 1.i 1. .. .. ving;
after which, cut out some like the ** I 1 and
then cut some small squares of pasteboard with slits in them, and
in those slits put the feet of the soldiers, and you will see they will
stand up very nicely. Then, by drawing a picture of a gun, and
also a cannon, and cutting them out of pasteboard in the same way,
your fort will be complete; except a flag, which you paint according
to the nation that you want your soldiers to represent. Of course,
you must paint your soldiers with a uniform on them.
We have also invented a nice kind of gun for shooting peas.
Take a piece of cane and cut a notch in it all around, to which you
fasten a piece of elastic, forming a loop over the end of the cane
Then vou make a ramrod like a pop-gun handle, and over the end


of it place the elastic loop, so that.when drawn back it will have a
good spring, and send the pea, or anything that you may choose to
load with, with a great deal of force.
Hoping that what I have told you may be of sufficient interest to
find a place in your '" Letter-Box," I remain yours always,

"CHARL should have been credited with the text of the "Christ-
mas Puzzle," published in our December number.

New York City.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I tried that receipt for making candy twice.
The first time it was very good; but the second time it stuck to the
paper so that I could not even scrape it off. I made it with light-
brown sugar, for we did not have any granulated.
I want to tell you how frightened I was one evening last summer,
in the country. 1 had been for a ride from the house where we were
boarding to the village, with a little girl named Mary, and her brother.
Coming back, the boy took out the whip to make Fan tthe horse) go
faster, and hit her with it. For about half a moment she went quite
slowly, as if to gather up all her strength, and then to go as fast as
she could. Mary jumped out because she was afraid, and her brother
jumped out to stop the horse. I sat as still as I could and held on to
the dashboard. I certainly expected to be upset; and it was just
God's mercy and nothing else that saved us from it. We had to walk
about half or three-quarters of a mile to get back to the house. But I
must stop now for my letter is almost too long now.-Yours very
sincerely, NESSIE E. STEVENs.

South Boston, Mass., 1876.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I send you in this let .. ...... for
making molasses candy, which I hope some of .... .. I. try.
Take one cup of molasses, one cup of sugar, half cup of butter, and
half tea-spoon of soda; boil fifteen minutes. Put the soda in just
before you take it off. We have taken the ST. NICHOLAS for two
years and we like it very much. Yours truly, J. S. D.
Who can send us a good recipe without soda ?

our hospitals would be glad to have any old books or illustrated
papers which our boys and girls have read and no longer want. Will
they not send all they can spare (express prepaid) to the State Chari-
ties Aid Association, No. 52 East Twentieth street, New York, which
will distribute them in the various hospitals ?

CHRISTMAS CAROLS. With music. Anson D. F. Randolph &
Co., N. Y.
IN THE SKY GARDEN. By Lizzie W. Champney. Illustrated by
"Champ." Lockwood, Brooks & Co., Boston. Price $2.
Henry M. Field, D. D. Scribner, Armstrong & Co., N. Y.
FLEDA AND THE VOICE. With other stones. By Mary A. Lath-
bury. Illustrated by the Author. Nelson & Phillips, N. Y.
LONG AGO: A Year of Child-life. By Ellis Gray. Illustrated.
Lockwood, Brooks & Co., Boston. Price $1,50,



REBUS, No. i.-" Breathes there the man with soul so dead
Who never to himself hath said,
'This is my own, my native land '"
CRoss-woRD ENIGMA.-Helena.
SVNCOPATIONS.-i. Calash, clash, cash. 2. Grasp, gasp, gap. 3.
Czar, car. 4. Canto, Cato. 5. Clamp, camp, cap.
RA I s E
EASY HIDDEN ANIMALS.-I. Lion. 2. Camel. 3. Ox. 4. Ape.
5. Dog. 6. Cat. 7. Seal.
SHAKSPEARIAN AcROSTIc.-Macbeth, Othello.
M -ercuti- 0
A -s You Like I- T
C-ardinal Pandulp--H
B eatric- E
E -ar- L
T -uba- L
H -orati- 0
ENIGMA,-Abraham Lincoln.
RIDDLE.-Clove, love, glove, clover.
S TRANSPOSITIONS.--. Noise-is one. 2. Do but-doubt. 3. Trap
meant-apartment. 4. Pieces-specie. 5. Motion read-moderation.
SQUARE-WORD.-Larch, Adore, Royal, Cramp, Helps.
REBUs, No. 2.-The Witches Spell. Spell it who can.
ess pea e lell lelleye tea[doubleyou aitch ohlsea aye[en

TRIPLE PUZZLE.-I. Concealed words: Modes, oust, omega,
never, level, I I, gang, heath, tablet. II. Complete words between
primals and finals: Ode, us, Meg, eve, -, an, eat, able. III.
Primals and finals: Moonlight and Starlight.
M -ode- S
0 -us- T
O -meg- A
N -eve- R
L -eve- L
G -an- G
H -eat- H
T -able- T
DOUBLE AcRosTIc.-Madrid, Lisbon. MeaL, Alibi, DresS, RoB,
IndigO, DeN.
ANAGRAMS -T. Verbena. 2. Violet. 3. Heart's-ease. 4. Helio-
trope. 5. Tuberose. 6. Bachelor's-button. 7. Rose geranium.
Centrals: Penguin.

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN DECEMBER NUMBER were received from Frieda E. Lippert, Josie M. Brown, Edward W. Robinson, Menetta
Lyon, Willie Dibblee, A. Carter, Nessie E. Stevens, "Alex," William W. Chipchase, "Capt. Nemo," Emma Elliott, Ella G. Condie, Hal
Glenn, Yetta M. Smith, Alice Barlow Moore, Bessie Y. B. Benedict, J. Montgomery, May Holmes, B. P. Emery, "L. E.," Charles Henry
Field, W. M1. Jones, Laura Hannaberg, Jeannie D. Adams, Elias W. R. Thompson, Harry Otis, Jennie L. Bird, Aggie Rhodes, Howard S.
Rogers, Carrie Hart, Elizabeth Sherrerd, G. B. M., Madge Shepard, Allie Bertram, "J. R.," Lewis Harlam, Louise Hinsdale.




r. DUTIFULNESS. 2. Inclining. 3. Integrity. 4. Part of the body.
5. Found in every dictionary. 6. A lawyer's reward. 7. A giver.
8. A ghost. 9. Endless.
The centrals, read downward, name a rare virtue.


I. Wet lances. 2. Not larches. 3. Warn no eels. 4. Race Susy.
5. Torn meal. 6. Covered pin. 7. Aunt, guess it. 8. To romp
thus. A. C.


I AM a word of four letters, the sum of which is 1551.
I. My I my 4 =30 X my 3.
2. My 2 x my 4 -= my I.
3. My 3 X my I = oo x my 4. STALLKNECHT.

Find the sums expressed in all the horizontal rows, and then add
them together, to find the complete sum expressed by the rebus.

--' il...ii.,i lk'_--

:E.lfP",1II'^- .SC

I. A VOWEL. 2. A hotel. 3. A shelf 4. A festival. 5. The power
of foreseeing. 6. Reservoirs. 7. Previous deliberation. 8. Delinea-
tions. 9. Not easily seen. 10. Repetitions of sleep-walking. s. In-
quiry. 12. Confusion. 13. Guardians. 14. A wonder. 15. Black.
16. A beverage. 17. A vowel. ATLANTIC CITY.

(By a very little girl.)
My first is in parrot,
My second in plate,
My third is in carrot,
My fourth is in wait;
My fifth is in trousers,
And also in pants;
And my whole is a beautiful
City in France. NELLIE KELLOGG.

i. A CITY in Wisconsin, or a French author. 2. A city in France,
or devastation. 3. A city in Ireland, or a piece of bark. 4. A
city in New York, ora a nimal. 5. A city in France, or journeys.
6. A city in France, or wild animals. 7. A city in England or a
meager flower. GRUMN O.


THE answer contains twenty-five letters. The 3, 1, 5, 20, 4, 2 is
raised. The 9 1o, 12, 2, 13 is what some men dread to do. The
19, 7, 22, 8, x6 is to quench. The 23, 25, 24, 14, 15 is good for the
sick. The 21, 18, 6, 17 is seen in factories. The whole is a true
axiom. D. C.


Find four fruits in the picture.


THE initials and finals name two cities in Europe.
i. A domestic animal. 2. A bitter plant. 3. A necessary of life.
4. A coloring matter. 5. A noted desert. B. P.


COMPLETE the diamond with only two letters of the alphabet.



I. A BEAUTIFUL flower. 2. A precious stone. 3. Part of a ship.
4. A girl's name. ISOLA.


I. WHY is this a festive occasion ? 2. Why is it like half the year
in the tropics ? 3. What public officers do these children resemble ?
4. Why is this like a breaking of the dykes in Holland ? 5. Why are
the children like the dial at noon ? 6. Why like the seats in a
circus? 7. Why is one of them like a proud lady ? 8. Why is her
hair like a person receiving a reprimand ? 9. Why are her knees like
warriors of old? no. Why does the boy need a new jacket? ii.
What would a little child say on hiding that would remind you of two
of these children ? .




jij m

FIND eighteen French words in the following sentences, without
displacing a letter (the accents must be left to the imagination) :
Do drag outsiders from the tent; let them combat only on the
field. J. s.
I. A CONSONANT. 2. A manner of drinking. 3. To look steadily.
4. A valuable gem. 5. Expresses arrogance or vanity. 6. Denotes
conclusion. 7. A consonant. E. R.

I AM a god, and at my feet
Lo kneeling throngs pay reverence meet.
I sprang from chaos and from strife,
A primal element of life.
The fleeting centuries I span,
A terror and a slave to man.
I shine at hand, I shine afar;
I am a sun, I am a star.
I am a blessing, and a curse;
I dance in air, I breathe in verse;
And, when immortal passions roll,
glow within the poet's soul.
Cut off my head-more dreadful now
I flash beneath the Thunderer's brow,
When swift his mighty bolts are hurled
To overawe a trembling world.
Cut off my tail, I bend and sigh
Beneath a gloomy northern sky;
Unknown to me the riches rare
Of Tropic suns and balmy air.
The snows lie heavy on my head;
I plant my feet among the dead,
Yet wake to life if o'er me roll
The terrors of my awful whole. J. s. N.

I HAVE an 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 to I 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 stating that
I x, 2, 3, 4 that 5, 6, 7, 8 should be spelled always with a Z.

FIVE letters. Left to right: A precious stone. Right to left: A
common stone.
I. A constellation. 2. Alert. 3. The sea-shore. 4. Condition. 5.
A bird's home. B.

ONCE on a time, a good -,
Whose mournful tale I now -,
Feasting, with spirits much -,
Would not be warned till 'twas too- ;
In short, he died of what he -.

A. M.

I. FROM the letters of the following words form a five-letter dia-
mond, containing a square-word: Spent even ien.



2. (For our readers to solve.) F. r., I, ...; sentence form a
five-letter diamond, containing I* i O0. stole bees.

My first is in yoke, but not in pair;
My second in atmosphere, not in air;
My third is in drink, but not in sip;
My fourth is in deck, but not in ship;
My fifth is in cut, but not in knife;
My sixth is in woman, but not in wife;
My seventh is in war, but not in strife;
My eighth is in swine, but not in cattle;
My whole is the name of a noted battle.

ADD a letter to a girl's name, and get a man's name. Put a head
i. Is found in ships. 2. Is to imitate. 3. Is a deputy. 4. Is a on it, and get a title. Drop two letters, and get insane. Change the
ghost. 5. Is an entrance. 6. Is to endeavor. 7. Is found in vessels, head, and find a boy. Again, and find wicked. Behead and curtail,
STALLKNECHT. and you have an important article. A. B.






";--;- li;r