Front Cover
 The ravens and the angels
 How the pony was taken
 Merry Mike
 An agreeable guest
 New-year card - How kitty got her...
 The stork and the crane: A...
 Winter fire-flies
 The arms of Great Britain
 Under the lilacs
 Music on all fours
 A letter to American boys
 Annie and the balls
 A modern William Tell - The king...
 Something in the old clothes...
 Tommy's dream; or, The geography...
 The towel-mountain
 Japanese "house that Jack...
 How to make an ice-boat
 Debby's Christmas
 The coolest man in Russia
 Three smart little foxes
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover


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5/4/2007 1:54:55 PM -

St. Nicholas, vol. 5, no. 3
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00056
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas, vol. 5, no. 3
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: UF00065513:00056


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Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    The ravens and the angels
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
    How the pony was taken
        Page 174
        Page 175
    Merry Mike
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
    An agreeable guest
        Page 180
        Page 181
    New-year card - How kitty got her new hat
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
    The stork and the crane: A fable
        Page 187
        Page 188
    Winter fire-flies
        Page 189
    The arms of Great Britain
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
    Under the lilacs
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
    Music on all fours
        Page 200
        Page 201
    A letter to American boys
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
    Annie and the balls
        Page 205
        Page 206
    A modern William Tell - The king and the three travelers
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
    Something in the old clothes line
        Page 211
        Page 212
    Tommy's dream; or, The geography demon
        Page 213
    The towel-mountain
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
    Japanese "house that Jack built"
        Page 219
    How to make an ice-boat
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
    Debby's Christmas
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
    The coolest man in Russia
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
    Three smart little foxes
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
    The letter-box
        Page 236
        Page 237
    The riddle-box
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


---- -- -------

__a -
-:.: L--- L-- :--

[See Letter Box.]


JANUARY, 1878.

No. 3.

[Copyright, 0877, by Scribner & Co.]

(A Story of the Middle Ages.)


IN those old days, in that old city, they called
the cathedral-and they thought it-the house of
God. The cathedral was the Father's house for
all, and therefore it was loved and honored, and
enriched with lavish treasures of wealth and work,
beyond any other father's house.
The cathedral was the Father's house, and,
therefore, close to its gates might nestle the poor
dwellings of the poor,-too poor to find a shelter
anywhere besides; because the central life and joy
of the house of God was the suffering, self-sacri-
ficing Son of Man; and dearer to Him, now and
forever, as when He was on earth, was the feeblest
and most fallen human creature He had redeemed
than the most glorious heavenly constellation of
the universe He had made.
And so it happened that when Berthold, the
stone-carver, died, Magdalis, his young wife, and
her two children, then scarcely more than babes,
Gottlieb and little Lenichen, were suffered to make
their home in the little wooden shed which had
once sheltered a hermit, and which nestled into
the recess,close to the great western gate of the
Thus, while inside from the lofty aisles pealed
forth, night and day, the anthems of the choir,
close outside, night and day, rose also, even more
surely to God, the sighs of a sorrowful woman and
the cries of little children whom all her toil could
hardly supply with bread. Because, He hears the
feeblest wail of want, though it comes not from a
dove or even from a harmless sparrow, but a young
VOL. V.--I2.

raven. And He does not heed the sweetest an-
them of the fullest choir, if it is a mere pomp of
sound. Because, while the best love of His meanest
creatures is precious to Him, the second-best of His
loftiest creatures is intolerable to Him. He heeds
the shining of the drops of dew and the rustling of
the blades of grass. But from creatures who can
love he cannot accept the mere outside offering
of creatures which can only make a pleasant sound.
All this, or such as this, the young mother Mag-
dalis taught her babes as they could bear it.
For they needed such lessons.
The troubles of the world pressed on them very
early, in the shape little children can understand-
little hands and feet nipped with frost, hunger and
darkness and cold.
Not that the citizens of that city were hypocrites,
singing the praises of God, whilst they let His
dear Lazaruses vainly crave at His gates for their
But Magdalis was very tender and timid, and a
little proud; proud not for herself, but for her
husband and his babes. And she was also feeble
in health. She was an orphan herself, and she had
married, against the will of her kindred in a far-off
city, the young stone-carver, whose genius they did
not appreciate, whose labor and skill had made life
so rich and bright to them while he lived, and
whose early death had left them all so desolate.
For his dear sake, she would not complain. For
herself it had been easier to die, and for his babes
she would not bring the shame of beggary on
them. Better .for them to enter into this life



maimed of strength, she thought, by meager food,
than tainted with the taint of beggary.
Rather, she thought, would their father himself
have seen them go hungry to bed than deserve
that the fingers of other children should be pointed
scornfully at them as the little beggars by the
church door," the door of the church in which she
gloried to think there were stones of his carving.
So she toiled on, carving for sale little devotional
symbols-crosses, and reliquaries, and lilies and
lambs-with the skill she had learnt from him,
and teaching the little ones, as best she could, to
love and work and suffer. Teaching them only,
perhaps, not quite enough to hope. For the lamp
of hope burnt low in her own heart, and therefore
her patience, not being enough the patience of
hope, lacked something of sweetness. It never
broke downward into murmurs, but it too seldom
soared upward into praise.
So it happened that one frosty night, about
Christmas-tide, little Gottlieb lay awake, very
hungry, on the ledge of the wall, covered with
straw, which served him for a bed.
It had once been the hermit's bed. And very
narrow Gottlieb thought it must have been for the
hermit, for more than once he had been in peril of
falling over the side, in his restless tossing. He
supposed the hermit was too good to be restless, or
perhaps too good for the dear angels to think it
good for him to be hungry, as they evidently did
think it good for Gottlieb and Lenichen, or they
would be not good angels at all, not even as kind
as the ravens which took the bread to Elijah when
they were told. For the dear Heavenly Father
had certainly told the angels always to take care of
little children.
The more Gottlieb lay awake and tossed and
thought, the further off the angels seemed.
For, all the time, under the pillow lay one pre-
cious crust of bread, the last in the house until his
mother should buy the loaf to-morrow.
He had saved it from his supper in an impulse
of generous pity for his little sister, who so often
awoke, crying with hunger, and woke his poor
mother, and would not let her go to sleep again.
He had thought how sweet it would be, when
Lenichen awoke the next morning, to appear sud-
denly, as the angels do, at the side of the bed
where she lay beside her mother, and say:
Dear Lenichen See, God has sent you this
bit of bread as a Christmas gift."
For the next day was Christmas Eve.
This little plan made Gottlieb so happy that at
first it felt as good to him as eating the bread.
But the happy thought, unhappily, did not long
content the hungry animal part of him, which
craved, in spite of him, to be filled; and, as the

night went on, he was sorely tempted to eat the
precious crust-his very own crust-himself.
Perhaps it was ambitious of me, after all," he
said to himself, to want to seem like a blessed
angel, a messenger of God, to Lenichen. Perhaps,
too, it would not be true. Because, after all, it
would not be exactly God who sent the crust, but
only me."
And with the suggestion, the little hands which
had often involuntarily felt for the crust, brought it
to the hungry little mouth.
But at that moment it opportunely happened
that his mother made a little moan in her sleep,
which half awakened Lenichen, who murmured,
sleepily, Little mother, mother, bread "
Whereupon, Gottlieb blushed at his own un-
generous intention, and resolutely pushed back the
crust under the pillow. And then he thought it
must certainly have been the devil who had tempted
him to eat, and he tried to pray.
He prayed the "Our Father" quite through,
kneeling up softly in bed, and lingering fondly, but
not very hopefully, on the Give us our daily
And then again he fell into rather melancholy
reflections how very often he had prayed that same
prayer and been hungry, and into distracting spec-
ulations how the daily bread could come, until at
last he ventured to add this bit of his own to his
Dear, holy Lord Jesus, you were once a little
child, and know what it feels like. If Lenichen
and I are not good enough for you to send us
bread by the blessed angels, do send us some by
the poor ravens. We would not mind at all, if they
came from you, and were your ravens, and brought
us real bread. And if it is wrong to ask, please
not to be displeased, because I am such a little
child, and I don't know better, and I want to go to
sleep "
Then Gottlieb lay down again, and turned his
face to the wall, where he knew the picture of the
Infant Jesus was, and forgot his troubles and fell
The next morning he was awaked, as so often,
by Lenichen's little bleat; and he rose triumph-
antly, and took his crust to her bedside.
Lenichen greeted him with a wistful little smile,
and put up her face for a kiss ; but her reception
of the crust was somewhat disappointing.
She wailed a little because it was hard and
dry," and when Gottlieb moistened it with a few
drops of water, she took it too much, he felt, as a
mere common meal, a thing of course, and her
natural right.
He had expected that, in some way, the hungry
hours it had cost him would have been kneaded



into it, and made it a kind of heavenly manna
for her.
To him it had meant hunger, and heroism, and
sleepless hours of endurance. It seemed strange
that to Lenichen it should seem nothing more than
a hard, dry, common crust.
But to the mother it was much more.
She understood all; and, because she understood
so much, she said little.
She only smiled, and said he looked more than
ever like his father; and as he sat musing rather
sadly while she was dressing, and Lenichen had
fallen asleep again, she pointed to the little peace-
ful sleeping face, the flaxen hair curling over the
dimpled arm, and she said:
That is thy thanks-just that the little one is
happy. The dear Heavenly Father cares more, I
think, for such thanks than for any other; just to
see the flowers grow, just to hear the birds sing to
their nestlings, just to see His creatures good and
happy, because of His gifts. Those are about the
best thanks for Him and for us."
But Gottlieb looked up inquiringly.
Yet He likes us to say Thank you,' too ? Did
you not say all the Church services, all the beauti-
ful cathedral itself, is just the people's 'Thank you'
to God? Are we not going to church just to say
Thank you,' to-day ?"
'' Yes, darling," she said. But the 'thank you'
we mean to say is worth little unless it is just the
blossom and fragrance of the love and content
always in the heart. God cares infinitely for our
loving Him, and loves us to thank Him if we do.
He does not care at all for the thanks without the
love, or without the content."
And as she spoke these words, Mother Magdalis
was preaching a little sermon to herself also, which
made her eyes moisten and shine.
So she took courage, and contrived to persuade
the children and herself that the bread-and-water
breakfast that Christmas Eve morning had some-
thing quite festive about it.
And when they had finished with a grace which
Gottlieb sang, and Lenichen lisped after him, she
told him to take the little sister on his knee and
sing through his songs and hymns, while she
arrayed herself in the few remnants of holiday
dress left her.
And as she cleaned and arranged the tiny room,
her heart was lighter than it had been for a long
I ought to be happy," she said to herself, with
music enough in my little nest to fill a church."
When Gottlieb had finished his songs, and was
beginning them over again, there was a knock at
the door, and the face of old Hans, the dwarf, ap-
peared at the door, as he half opened it.

"A good Christmas to thee and thy babes,
Mother Magdalis Thy son is born indeed with a
golden spoon in his mouth," croaked old Hans in
his hoarse, guttural voice.
The words grated on Magdalis. Crooked Hans'
jokes were apt to be as crooked as his temper and
his poor limbs, and to give much dissatisfaction,
hitting on just the sore points no one wanted to
be touched.
She felt tempted to answer sharply, but the sweet
Christmas music had got into her heart, and she
only said, with tears starting to her eyes:
If he was, neighbor, all the gold was lost and
buried long ago."
Not a bit of it rejoined Hans. "Did n't I
hear the gold ring this very instant ? The lad has
gold in his mouth, I say Give him to me, and
you shall see it before night."
She looked up reproachfully, the tears fairly fall-
ing at what she thought such a cruel mockery from
Hans, who knew her poverty, and had never had
from her or hers the rough words he was too used
to from every one.
The golden days are over for me," was all she
"Nay! They have yet to begin," he replied.
Your Berthold left more debtors than you know,
Frau Magdalis. And old Hans is one of them.
And Hans never forgets a debt, black or white.
Let the lad come with me, I say. I know the
choir-master at the cathedral. And I know he
wants a fine high treble just such as thy Gottlieb's,
and will give anything for it. For if he does not
find one, the Cistercians at the new convent will
draw away all the people, and we shall have no
money for the new organ. They have a young
Italian, who sings like an angel, there; and the
young archduchess is an Italian, and is wild about
music, and lavishes her gifts wherever she finds it
Magdalis looked perplexed and troubled.
To sell the child's voice seems like selling part
of himself, neighbor," she said at length; and
to sell God's praises seems like selling one's own
"Well, well! Those are thy proud burgher
notions," said Hans, a little nettled. "If the
Heavenly Father pleases to give thee and the little
ones a few crumbs for singing His matins and
evensong, it is no more than He does for the
robins, or, for that matter, for the very ravens,
such as ne, that croak to Him with the best voice
they have."
At these words, Gottlieb, who had been listening
very attentively, gently set little Lenichen down,
and, drawing close to Hans, put his little hand con-
fidingly in his.


I will go with neighbor Hans, mother!" he
said, decisively. The dear Lord himself has sent
"'Thou speakest like a prophet," said the mother,
smiling tenderly at his oracular manner, "a prophet
and a king in one. Hast thou had a vision ? Is
thy will indeed the law of the land ? "
"Yes, mother," he said, coloring, "the dear
Lord Jesus has made it quite plain. I asked Him,
if we were not good enough for Him to send us an
angel, to send us one of His ravens, and He has
sent us Hans! "
Hans laughed, but not the grim, hoarse laugh
which was habitual to him, and which people com-
pared to the croaking of a raven; it was a hearty,
open laugh, like a child's, and he said:
Let God's raven lead thee, then, my lad, and
the mother shall see if we don't bring back the
bread and meat."
SI did not ask for meat," said Gottlieb, gravely,
" only for bread."
"The good God is wont to give more than we
either desire or deserve," croaked Hans, "when
He sets about giving at all."

THERE was no time to be lost.
The services of the day would soon begin, and
Hans had set his heart on Gottlieb's singing that
very day in the cathedral.
The choir-master's eyes sparkled as he listened
to the boy; but he was an austere man, and would
not utter a word to make the child think himself of
"Not bad raw material," 'he said, "but very
raw. I suppose thou hast never before sung a note
to any one who understood music ? "
Only for the mother and the little sister," the
child replied in a low, humbled tone, beginning to
fear the raven would bring no bread after all, "and
sometimes in the litanies and the processions."
Sing no more for babes and nurses, and still
less among the beggars in the street-processions,"
pronounced the master, severely. It strains and
vulgarizes the tone. And, with training, I don't
know but that, after all, we might make something
of thee-in time, in time."
Gottlieb's anxiety mastered his timidity, and he
ventured to say :
Gracious lord if it is a long time, how can
we all wait? I thought it would be to-day! The
mother wants the bread to-day."
Something in the child's earnest face touched the
master, and he said, more gently:
I did not say you might not begin to-day. You
must begin this hour, this moment. Too much
time has been lost already."

And at once he set about the first lesson, scold-
ing and growling about the child setting his teeth
like a dog, and mincing his words like a fine lady,
till poor Gottlieb's hopes more than once sank
very low.
But, at the end of a quarter of an hour's prac-
tice, the artist in the choir-master entirely over-
came the diplomatist.
He behaved like a madman. He took the child
in his arms and hugged him, like a friendly bear;
he set him on the table and made him sing one
phrase again and again, walking round and round
him, and rubbing his hands and laughing with
delight; and, finally, he seized him and bore him
in triumph to the kitchen, and said to his house-
Ursula, bring out the finest goose and the best
preserves and puddings you have. We must feast
the whole choir, and, may be, the dean and chap-
ter. The archduke and the young archduchess will
be here at Easter. But we shall be ready for them.
Those beggarly Cistercians have n't a chance. The
lad has the voice of an angel, and the ear-the ear
-well, an ear as good as my own."
The child may well have the voice of an angel,"
scolded old Ursula; "he is like to be among the
angels soon enough."
For the hope, and the fear, and the joy had
quite overcome the child, enfeebled as he was by
meager fare; his lips were quite pale, and his
Moreover, the last order of the choir-master had
not been quite re-assuring to him. The fat goose
and the-puddings were good, indeed; but he would
have preferred his mother and Lenichen being
feasted in his honor, rather than the choir and the
And besides, though little more than seven years
old, he was too much of a boy quite to enjoy his
position on the master's shoulder. He felt it too
babyish to be altogether honorable to the protector
of Lenichen and incipient bread-winner of the
family. And, therefore, he was relieved when he
found himself once more safely on the ground.
But when Ursula set before him a huge plate of
bread and meat, his manly composure all but gave
way. It was more of an approach to a feast than
any meal he had ever participated in, and he was
nearly choked with repressed tears of gratitude.
It was so evident now that Hans was altogether
an orthodox and accredited raven !
At first, as the child sat mute and wondering
before the repast, with a beautiful look of joy and
prayer in his blue eyes, Ursula thought he was say-
ing his grace, and respected his devotion. But as
the moments passed on, and still he did not attempt
to eat, she became impatient.



There is a time for everything," she murmured,
at length. That will do for thy grace Now
quick to the food Thou canst finish the grace,
if thou wilt, in music, in the church by and by."
But then the child took courage, and said:
The ravens-that is, the good God-surely do
not mean all this for ine. Dear, gracious lady, let
me run with the plate to the mother and Lenichen;
and I will be back again in two minutes, and sing
all day, if the master likes."

seemed to Mother Magdalis when Gottlieb re-
entered the hermit's cell, under the stately convoy
of the choir-master's housekeeper, and with food
enough to feed the frugal little household for a
The two women greeted each other ceremoni-
ously and courteously, as became two German
housewives of good burgher stock.
The little lad has manners worthy of a burgo-
master," said Ursula. "We shall see him with the

'' '"
i !:I I :
)II II (
~ \IIIj/ /I


Ursula was much moved at the child's filial love,
and also at his politeness.
The little one has discrimination," she said to
herself. "One can see he is of a good stock. He
recognizes that I am no peasant, but the daughter
of a good burgher house."
And, in spite of the remonstrances of her master,
she insisted on giving the lad his way.
I will accompany him, myself," said she.
And, without further delay or parley, she walked
off, under the very eyes of the master, with the
boy, and also with a considerable portion of his
own dinner, in addition to the plate she had already
set before Gottlieb.

A very joyful and miraculous intervention it

gold chain and the fur robes yet,-his mother a
proud woman."
With which somewhat worldly benediction, she
left the little family to themselves, conjuring Gott-
lieb to return in less than an hour, for the master
was not always as manageable as this morning.
And when they were alone, Gottlieb was not
ashamed to hide his tears on his mother's heart.
'" See, darling mother !" he said, the dear
Savior did send the raven! Perhaps, one day,
He will make us good enough for Him to send the
Then the simple family all knelt down and
thanked God from their hearts, and Gottlieb added
one especial bit of his own of praise and prayer
for his kind Hans, of whom, on account of his


grim face and rough voice, he had stood in some
Forgive me, dear Lord Jesus," he said, that
I did not know how good he was "
And when they had eaten their hasty Christmas
feast, and the mother was smoothing his hair and
making the best of his poor garments, Gottlieb
said, looking up gravely in her face :
Who knows, mother, if Hans is only a raven
now, that the good God may not make him, his
,very self, the angel ? "

"Perhaps God is making Hans into the angel
even now," replied the mother.
And she remembered for a long time the angelic
look of love and devotion in the child's eyes.
For she knew very well the cathedral choir was
no angelic host.
She knew she was not welcoming her boy that
morning to a haven, but launching him on a voyage
of many perils. But she knew, also, that it is only
by such perils, and through such voyages, that
men, that saints, are made.

(To be continued.)


BY C. W.

ONE morning, last August, Jimmie Wood was
sitting on the gate-post making a willow whistle,
when a remarkable wagon, drawn by a lean, gray
horse, came up over the hill. The wagon looked
like a big black box with a window in it. In front
was a man driving, and this man seemed rather
peculiar too. He had a long, pointed mustache
and very curly hair. He was not a cigar and candy
peddler, nor a patent medicine man, nor a machine
agent, for Jim could recognize any of these in a
minute. The curly-haired man stopped directly in
front of the gate.
Good morning," said he.
Morning," answered Jim, shutting up his knife.
My name's Leatherbee," continued the cuily-
haired man.
Is it?" said Jim, unconcernedly, and then slid
off the gate-post and started for the house.
Hi boy "
Jim turned quickly.
Ask your pa whether he would n't like to have
his house took called out the stranger.
Jim nodded, and went across the grass-plot
meditating upon what the man meant by propos-
ing to take the house. His father was in the sit-
ting-room writing a letter.
Papa," said Jim, leaning up against the table,
there 's a man out there in the road that wants to
take the house."
Wants to take the house exclaimed Mr.
Wood, making a blot in his astonishment.
Yes," continued Jim, and he has the fun-
niest-looking wagon you ever saw in your life."
"Ah!" said Mr. Wood, "I understand now;

he wants to take some photographs, I suppose.
Well, tell him I don't want any," and Mr. Wood
went on with his letter, while Jim proceeded across
the front yard again. He noticed his pony over in
the orchard. A thought struck him, and he
wheeled around and went back in the sitting-room
again in some haste.
Papa," said he, can't I have the pony
taken ? "
She wont stand still long enough," answered
Mr. Wood, sealing up his letter.
But, papa, can't the man try?" pleaded Jim.
Mr. Wood thought for a minute. Then said:
"Yes. He may try."
Jim galloped across the front yard in a second.
Well ? said the curly-haired man, raising his
Papa does n't want the house taken," said Jim,
with some dignity. But can you take my pony
over there in the orchard ?"
The man looked at Baby, who was calmly
crunching harvest apples under the trees.
Purty little beast," he said, getting out of his
wagon and leading his horse up to the fence.
Can you take her?" asked Jim again, anx-
Course I kin," answered Mr. Leatherbee. He
then tied his horse to the fence and lifted his ap-
paratus out of the wagon, and arranged it in the
orchard. The pony immediately kicked up her
heels and trotted off to a far-away corner. Mr.
Wood came out of the house and talked to the
photographer, while Jim, after chasing around for
some time trying to catch the pony, went to the



stable and put a quart of oats in a measure. As
soon as Baby spied that round, yellow box under
Jim's arm, she trotted up to him with a gentle
neigh. He caught her by the fore-top and led her
to where Mr. Leatherbee was standing.
Jest put her there," said he, pointing to a place
under a big tree. Jim led her to the place and
held her while Mr. Leatherbee made all his ar-
Now we 're ready," said he.
Baby looked pleased at this announcement, but
waved her tail wildly.
Mr. Wood smiled.
Tell Baby to keep perfectly quiet," said he to
Jim, and ask her to lower her chin a little, cast a

camera, and looked at his watch for some breath-
less minutes. Then he slipped the velvet on again,
and said:
That's all right."
Jim drew a long sigh.
"Will it be good, do you think?" he asked,
"Not a doubt of it," said Mr. Leatherbee, in
such a cheerful tone that Jim immediately made
up his mind that the pony should have an extra
quart of oats all winter for her fine behavior. He
expected the picture would be done right away,
but Mr. Leatherbee said he would have to send the
plates to Poughkeepsie to his partner, and the pict-
ures would come soon by the mail. Mr. Leather-


pleasant expression around her eyes, and breathe
Mr. Leatherbee laughed at this. So did Jim;
for it was exactly what the photographer always
told him when he had his picture taken.
The pony thought this all very pleasant, but she
wanted the oats, and, consequently, was trying to
thrust her nose through Jim's back in her efforts to
get at the measure.
The photographer looked despairing.
Here, I'll fix it," said Mr. Wood, stepping up
to the pony. "No, Jim, stand back; Mr. Leather-
bee, are you ready ? "
Yes," answered Mr. Leatherbee, with one
hand on the velvet that covered his camera.
Mr. Wood poured the oats on the ground and
let go of the pony's head. For a while Baby
grabbed the oats up in great haste, but finally she
stood with her nose to the ground quietly eating.
Mr. Leatherbee drew away the velvet from the

bee then put all his apparatus in his wagon again,
and jogged on as he had come.
For the next four days Jimmie went to the post-
office about every two hours.
Expectin' a love-letter ? said old Mr. Hallo.
way, the postmaster. At this all the loafers who
were sitting on the counter laughed loudly. Jim
made up his mind that Mr. Halloway was a very
unpleasant old gentleman, and vowed all sorts of
threats against him. His revengeful plans melted
away, however, when Mr. Halloway handed him a
big envelope, and said: Here, Bub, yer letter's
Jim tore it open, and six photographs dropped
out all alike, all representing Baby eating under a
tree. He privately showed one to her that after-
noon. She evidently thought it very handsome,
for she delicately chewed it up out of Jim's hand, to
his great amazement. He says nothing about this
when telling how the pony's picture was taken.




.. .. ." i- -'--.-

S" ', ,,

14 Iq,


MERRY MIKE, from his door, bounded out to his play,
With his head in his hat, on a blustering day;
When the wind, of a sudden, came frolicking down,
And lifted Mike's hat from his little round crown.

" He-he said Mike, and he said Ho-ho

.. "


Then he made up his mind to return to the house,
But the merry wind pushed itself under his blouse;
And it roared and it roared, as he puffed and he ran,
Till it just knocked over this queer little man.
" Ho-ho said Mike, and he said He-he!
I'll get up again, Old Wind, you 'll see "


Mike laughed He-he and he laughed Ho-ho
L- "I I

V y u l t.i-_.. 'd -li t n --

Then the wind, with a flurry of bluster and racket,
Went crowding and crowding right under his jacket;
And it lifted him off from his two little feet,
And it carried him bodily over the street.
Mike laughed He-he and he laughed Ho-ho
Do you call this flying, I 'd like to knor ?"

,3. I *

i -' .... ko 'r -*
S-. -*- 4 N,
Do y'o'ut s-e... hr

T b:'i a' ,,o i n
"i D yoI thik tbuali ttle '

" Do you think I am naught but a little hen's-feather ?"


;%\ ;

He met there a somewhat discouraged old cow,
That had blown thither too, though she failed to see how;
And he smiled and said, Make yourself easy, my friend-
Only keep your mind quiet, and things '11 soon mend !"
And he laughed He-he !" and he laughed Ho-ho !
The wind is just playing, old cow, you know "

- 1A

I,, I:~ ; U


pi 1

As he scampered off home, what above should he see
But the roof of a shed, that had lodged in a tree;.
So he laughed and he laughed, till his sides they did ache,
For he said, This is better nor wedding nor wake!"
And he roared Ho-ho and he roared He-he! "
For he was as tickled as tickled could be.





" That boy," say the terrified folks of the town,
" He would laugh just the same if the sky tumbled down!"
" Indeed, an' I would," fancied Mike, with a grin,
" For I might get a piece with a lot of stars in "
And he chuckled He-he and he chuckled Ho-ho "
The very idea delighted him so !



i, I'

I ,,. I, 1
.. .,, I, .; .. -.i ..

His father complained to the priest, Now, I say,
Mike never stops laughing, by night or by day !"
" Let him laugh," spoke the priest; "he will change by and by,
And 't is better to laugh than to grumble or cry !
It's the way with the lad; let him laugh, if he like;
And be glad you've a son that's as merry as Mike "





THE longest visit that we read of in modern
days was one which Dr. Isaac Watts made at
Lord Abney's in the Isle of Wight. He went to
spend a fortnight, but they made him so happy
that he remained a beloved and honored guest for
forty years.
Few of us would care to make so long a visit as
that, but it might be worth the while for us all to
try and learn the secret of making ourselves agree-
able and welcome guests. To have "a nice time"
when one is visiting is delightful, but to leave be-
hind us a pleasant impression is worth a great deal
An agreeable guest is a title which any one may
be proud to deserve. A great many people, with
the best intentions and the kindest hearts, never
receive it, simply because they have never con-
sidered the subject, and really do not know how to
make their stay in another person's home a pleas-
ure instead of an inconvenience. If you are one
of these thoughtless ones, you may be sure that,
although your friends are glad to see you happy,
and may enjoy your visit on that account, your
departure will be followed with a sigh of relief, as
the family settle down to their usual occupations,
saying, if not thinking, that they are glad the visit
is over.
A great many different qualities and habits go to
make up the character of one whom people are
always glad to see, and these last must be proved
while we are young, if we expect to wear them
gracefully. A young person whose presence in the
house is an inconvenience and a weariness at fif-
teen, is seldom a welcome visitor in after-life.
The two most important characteristics of a
guest are tact and observation, and these will lead
you to notice and do just what will give pleasure to
your friends in their different opinions and ways of
living. Apply in its best sense the maxim-
When you are in Rome, do as the Romans do."
Unless you have some good reason for not doing
so, let your friends know the day, and, if possible,
the hour when you expect to arrive. Surprises are
very well in their way, but there are few households
in which it is quite convenient to have a friend
drop in without warning for a protracted visit. If
they know that you are coming, they will have the
pleasure of preparing for you and looking forward
to your arrival, and you will not feel that you are
disturbing any previous arrangements which they
have made for the day.

Let your friends know, if possible, soon after you
arrive, about how long you mean to stay with them,
as they might not like to ask the question, and
would still find it convenient to know whether your
visit is to have a duration of three days or three
weeks. Take with you some work that you have
already begun, or some book that you are reading,
that you may be agreeably employed when your
hostess is engaged with her own affairs, and not be
sitting about idle, as if waiting to be entertained,
when her time is necessarily taken up with some-
thing else. Make her feel that, for a small part at
least of every day, no one needs to have any re-
sponsibility about amusing you.
A lady who is charming as a guest and as a
hostess once said to me: "I never take a nap in
the afternoon when I am at home, but I do when
I, am visiting, because I know what a relief it has
sometimes been to me to have company lie down
for a little while, after dinner."
Try, without being too familiar, to make your-
self so much like one of the family that no one
shall feel you to be in the way; and, at the same
time, be observant of those small courtesies and
kindnesses which all together make up what the
world agrees to call good manners.
Regulate your hours of rising and retiring by the
customs of the house. Do not keep your friends
sitting up until later than usual, and do not be
roaming about the house an hour or two before
breakfast. If you choose to rise at an early hour,
remain in your own room until near breakfast-time,
unless you are very sure that your presence in the
parlor will not be unwelcome. Write in large let-
ters, in a prominent place in your mind, "BE
PUNCTUAL." A visitor has no excuse for keeping
a whole family waiting, and it is unpardonable
negligence not to be prompt at the table. Here is
a place to test good manners, and any manifesta-
tion of ill-breeding here will be noticed and remem-
bered. Do not be too ready to express your likes
and dislikes for the various dishes before you. The
wife of a certain United States Senator once visit-
ing acquaintances at some distance from her native
wilds, made a lasting impression upon the family
by remarking at the breakfast-table that "she
should starve before she would eat mush," and
that she "never heard of cooking mutton before
she came East."
If you are tempted to go to the other extreme,
and sacrifice truth to politeness, read Mrs. Opie's



" Tale of Potted Sprats," and you will not be likely
to be insincere again.
It is well to remember that some things which
seem of v-ry little importance to you may make an
unpleasa .t impression upon others, in consequence
of a difference in early training. The other day
two young ladies were heard discussing a gentle-
man who had a great many pleasant qualities.
"Yes," said one, "he is very handsome, but he
does eat pie with his knife." Take care that no
trifle of that kind is recalled when people are
speaking of you.
Keep your own room in order, and do not scat-
ter your belongings all over the house. If your
friends are orderly, it will annoy them to see your
things out of place; and if they are not, their own
disorder will be enough without adding yours.
Make up your mind to be entertained with what
is designed to entertain you. If your friends invite
you to join them in an excursion, express your
pleasure and readiness to go, and do not act as
though you were conferring a favor instead of re-
ceiving one. No visitors are so wearisome as those
who do not meet half way whatever proposals are
made for their pleasure. Be contented to amuse
yourself quietly in the house, or to join in any out-
side gayeties to which you are invited, and show by
your manner that you enjoy both.
If games are proposed, do not say that you will
not play, or would rather look on; but join with
the rest, and do the best you can. Never let a
foolish feeling of pride, lest you should not make so
good an appearance as the others, prevent your
If you are not skillful, you will at least show that
you are good-natured, and that you do not think
yourself modest when you are only proud.
If you have any skill in head or fingers, you will
never have a better time to use it than when you
are visiting; only, whatever you do, do well, and
do not urge your offers of assistance after you see
that it is not really desired. Mrs. Poyser, who is
one of George Eliot's best characters, says: "Folks
as have no mind to be o' use have allays the luck
to be out o' the road when there 's anything to be
done." If you do not find any place to be useful,
you may be tolerably sure that it is your own
I heard a gentleman say of a young lady whose
small affectations were undergoing a sharp criti-
cism, Well, whatever you may say of her, she is
certainly more ready to make herself useful than
any other young lady who visits here. If I lose my
glasses, or mislay the newspaper, or want a stitch
taken, she is always ready." And I shall never
forget the impression which a young lady made
upon me, as I saw her sit idly rocking backward

and forward, complacently surveying the young
friends she was visiting as they were hurrying to
finish peeling a basket of peaches.
While visiting, remember that you meet many
who are strangers to you, and do not seem to you
especially attractive, but who may still be dear and
valued friends of the family; and be cautious about
making criticisms upon them. Be friendly and
cordial toward those whom you meet, and try to
show that you are ready to like them. Whatever
peculiarities you may observe, either in the family
or its guests, which strike you as amusing, be care-
ful that you do not sin against the law of love, by
repeating little things, to their disadvantage, which
you have found out while you were admitted to the
sanctuary of the home.
Do not ask questions which people would rather
not answer, and be careful not to speak of any-
thing which will bring up painful recollections, or
be likely to cause unpleasant forebodings. The
old proverb expresses this in few words : Never
mention a rope in the family of a man who has
been hanged."
If your own home is in any way better and hand-
somer than your friends', do not say anything
which may seem like making invidious compari-
sons, or allow them to see that you miss any of
the conveniences to which you have been accus-
Be careful about making any unnecessary work
for others, and do not ask even the servants to do
for you anything which you ought to do for your-
self. The family had their time filled up before
you came, and, do what you will, you are an extra
one, and will make some difference.
Provide yourself, before you leave home, with
whatever small supplies you are likely to need, so
that you need not be borrowing ink, pens, paper,
envelopes, postage-stamps, etc.
It may seem unnecessary to speak of the need of
taking due care of the property of others, but hav-
ing just seen a young lady leaning forward with
both elbows upon the open pages of a handsome
volume which was resting upon her knees, I ven-
ture to suggest that you do not leave any marred
wall, or defaced book, or ink-stains, or mark of a
wet tumbler, to remind your friends of your visit
long after it has ended.
Do not forget, when you go away, to express
your appreciation of the kindness which has been
shown you, and when you reach home inform your
friends by letter of your safe arrival.
If you follow faithfully these few suggestions, you
will probably be invited to go again; and if you do
not thank ST. NICHOLAS for telling you these plain
truths, perhaps the friends whom you visit will be
duly grateful.


(Drawn by Miss L. GREENAWAY.)


BY E. P. W.


IT was all because of Polly, and this was the Polly was in the buttery, washing the dinner-
way of it. dishes, and I was on the kitchen floor, playing with
Ma had gone 'cross lots to Aunt Mari's, to stay Queen Victoria, our old yellow cat, trying to teach
till milking-time, to see the new things Aunt Mari her to stand on her hind-legs and beg, like Johnny
had brought from Boston, and Polly and I were Dane's dog. But Vic was cross, and would n't
alone at home. Polly is our hired help, and she is learn; and when I boxed her ears, she scratched
Irish, and has got red hair, but she's as good as me on my chin, and bounced over my shoulder,
gold; and I am Kitty, my Pa's little chatterbox, and was off to the barn in less than no time.

mydez r6i~1 dc-~c-iir/naw



You need n't suppose I cried, because I did n't,
for I shall be ten years old next July. I don't ever
cry any more; only when I have the earache, and
then I can't help it. Except the other day when
Tom stepped on my Rachel Tryphena, and jammed
her forehead in, I did. But Tom's going to buy
her a new head with the money he gets from sell-
ing Jake Lawrence some of his guinea-hen's eggs,
so I don't mind about that now. I was just think-
ing how much better I should feel if I'd had a
chance to pull old Vic's tail, when Polly called,
"What yer doing honey!" and said if I would
come and wipe the plates for her, that by and by,
when she had "set the sponge" for to-morrow's
baking, she would take her sewing and sit under
the maple-tree, and tell me a story.
I like Polly's stories, and I like wiping dishes,
too, sometimes-and I can do them first-rate, if
I 'm not but nine years old, and never let one drop,
neither So Polly gave me a towel, and we both
wiped with all our might and main, and 'most as
quick as you can say Jack Robinson, we had them
piled in shining rows on the kitchen dresser. Then
I did twelve and a half rows on the suspenders I
was knitting for Pa's birthday, while Polly finished
the rest of her work.
About four o'clock it was all done, and the table
set for supper, and everything; so Polly got her
needle and thread, and the pink calico she was
making into an apron, and we went out through
the front entry.
As we were passing the closet door, I saw Pa's
new green umbrella, that he had bought when he
was in town the day before, hanging inside, and I
thought it would be a good thing for us to carry
it out with us, because the sun was so piping hot
that afternoon; so I asked Polly if we might n't.
She said, To be shure, darlint," and reached it
down for me.
You know our big maple-tree grows close by the
front gate, and stretches its branches all around,
across the fence and into the road; and it's always
cool under it, no matter how hot the sun shines
everywhere else. Polly settled herself on the bench
at the foot of the tree, and I climbed up and sat
on the gate-post, where I could see along the road
as far as the turning by Deacon Stiles's, and clear
to tie five-acre lot, where Tom and Jed were hoe-
ing corn.
Then Polly sewed, and told a story about a
beautiful maiden in a lonely tower, and an old
banshee that went about nights, howling, and
knocking at folks' windows.
And she talked about when she was a little girl
in Ireland, and how she and her sisters and Pat
Maloney used to wade together in the river, that
was n't so very much bigger than our crick."

And then she folded her hands on her work, and
gazed away into the lower meadow, where we could
spy a spot of white moving against the green, that
was Pat's shirt, with Pat inside of it, mowing, and
began to tell what a fine "b'y" Pat was (Aunt
Mari's Pat is the one), and how he had raked and
scraped and gone without things ever since he had
been in America, so as to save enough money to
buy a snug little home over here for his old mother,
and get her everything she wants before she dies.
But just as Polly was saying that she was laying
by her money, too, and that when the old woman
had come she had promised to go and live with
them, all at once I heard an awful racket, and
looked toward the road, and oh cricky what do
you think I saw? Tearing round Deacon Stiles's
corner, lickety-split, was a span of horses and a
buggy, with the reins dragging in the dust, and
the buggy spinning from one side of the road to
the other, and in it was a lady with great wide-open
eyes, and a face as white as a sheet, clutching a
little girl in her arms like death !
I knew right off that it was the lady who was
staying at Judge Gillis's, in the village, because I
had seen her and her little girl in meeting, Sun-
day; but my heart flew into my throat and almost
choked me, and at first I could n't speak a word.
Then I screamed, "Polly! Polly!"
Polly jumped as if she was shot-for, if you will
believe it, she had been so busy thinking of Pat
that she had n't heard a sound-and got to the
gate in two leaps, scattering her spools and scissors
and pieces of pink calico on the grass. When she
saw the horses, she stood stock-still for a minute,
and stared with all her eyes. Then she gave a
screech like a wild Indian, and stooped and grabbed
Pa's umbrella from where I had thrown it on the
ground, and rushing into the middle of the road,
she opened and shut it as fast as she could work
her arms, and shouted as loud as she could yell!
At thac the horses slacked up a bit. The road is
pretty narrow, and they did n't seem to know how
to get past the frightful-looking creature that was
blocking their way of a sudden, with a big green
thing flippcty-flopping before her.
Anyhow, they went slower and slower, till they
got to the beginning of our fence, when they tried
to turn. Then Polly dropped the umbrella, and
ran and caught them by the bridles, and brought
them to a dead stop.
They were shaking from top to toe, and their
glossy black breasts were streaked and spotted with
foam. Polly stroked and patted their necks, and
said, "Be aisy now, me b'ys-be aisy!" and led
them to the hitching-post and made them fast.
Then she lifted out the little girl, whose beautiful
sky-blue hat was all smashed in at the crown, and


taking the poor lady in her arms as tender as
though she was a baby, sat her on the bench under
the maple. The lady lay back so white and still
that I thought she was going to faint, like Miss
Clarissa Lovett, that boarded with us last summer,
did once, because of Tom's putting a mouse in
her work-box.
Polly was dreadfully scart, and fanned her with
a breadth of her new apron.
Run, darlint," said she to me, "run for yer
life and fetch a dipper of water "

"And, you good, noble girl, but for you we
certainly should have been killed," she ended,
squeezing Polly's hand.
Polly grew as red as fire, and said she must be
after a-seein' about supper."
At that moment Ma came in the kitchen-way,
and, hearing voices in the sitting-room, walked in,
very much surprised, because the sitting-room was
generally kept shut, on account of the flies and the
new window-shades.
She was more surprised on hearing what had


But the lady smiled, and said: No, don't, my been going on, and said the lady must stay to
dear. I shall be better presently." supper, and that afterward Pa would drive her into
And sure enough she was, and in a little while the village. And she blew the horn for Tom, and
she let Polly help her to the house; and when she told him to saddle Jerry and ride to Judge Gillis's
had drunk a tumbler of water, and had lain on the and say to the folks that the lady and little girl
sitting-room lounge for a spell, she appeared as were all right, and at our house, and that Pa would
smart as ever. bring them home after supper.
The horses were some new ones of Judge Gillis's, Then Ma hurried to the pantry to open some of
she said, and were very skittish. The judge was her best preserve-jars, and Polly to the barn to milk
going to drive her to Mrs. Colonel Givens's, a mile the cows, and I was left to entertain the lady.
beyond the village; but as he was stepping into the I could n't think how to, exactly, and I thought
buggy he noticed there was no whip, so he went to it would n't do for her to talk, being still so pale;
the barn to get one. While he was gone, the so I laid the photograph-album on the corner of
horses shied at something and started "two-forty." the table nearest to her, and asked her little girl



if she did n't want to go to the barn and see my
four cunning little Maltese kittens.
Yes, I would, dear," said the lady. "Go with
the little girl."
So she put her hand in mine, and we scampered
down the hill to the barn as tight as we could go.
We were not very long getting acquainted when
we were alone together, and the little girl talked as
much as I did.
I asked her what her name was, and she said,
That's a real pretty name," said I. Mine's
Why, is it ? said she. I've got a cousin
Kitty. But she is n't near as nice as you are."
And With that we both laughed, and felt as if we
had lived next door to each other all our lives.
I showed her the four kittens, and she said they
were perfectly lovely, but liked most the one with a
white breast and a sweet dot of a white nose. I
told her she might have it for hers as quick as it
was old enough to leave its mother. But she has
never sent for it since. I guess she must have for-
When she had seen the guinea-pigs, and Tom's
rabbits, and fed them all they would eat, we clam-
bered into the hay-mow, and had a fine time play-
ing on the hay, till the supper-horn blew.
There was no end of goodies for supper, but
Jessie's Ma did n't eat scarcely a thing. But she
drank two tumblers of Daisy's milk, and said she
had n't tasted anything so delicious in a year. But
Jessie and I could eat, and Tom too,-after he had
spilt a cup of tea and a pitcher of water, and
knocked a piece of pie under the table. He said,
when Jessie and her Ma had gone, that the lady's
black eyes "discombobolated" him so that he had
more than half a mind to dive under the table
Soon as we were through supper, Pa brought up
the horses (which Tom had driven to the barn, and
watered and fed), for it was growing late, and the
lady wanted to be home before dark. I put on
Jessie's hat for her, and tried to straighten the
crown, and pin on the long white feather, that was
broken in two in the middle.
It's 'most spoilt," I said. Is n't it a pity ?"
"Poh I don't care," said Jessie. "I've got
three more at home, prettier 'n this."
Why-e-e-e said I. Truly honest ? "
"Why, yes!" said Jessie. "How many've you ?"
"Just a horrid old Leghorn said I. "And
it's been pressed over and over, and the trimmings
washed, and I can't bear it "
And I was telling her about the chip jockey hat
that Sally Carroll's aunt bought her for a birthday
present, when the buggy came to the door.
VOL. V.-I3.

"Come, say good-bye to the little girl, my love,"
said the lady, smiling down at me.
Jessie threw her arms around my neck and whis-
pered that I was the best girl she ever knew, and
that she should write me a letter when she got to
Boston, and hopped in.
The lady shook hands with Ma, and thanked her
for being so kind, and then turned to Polly and
said, softly :
You good Polly, I must do something for you.
Wont you let me ? "-and put her hand in her
I never saw Polly so mad but-once before, and
that was when Tom chucked Queen Victoria into
the churn, because she would n't let him have but
a quarter of an apple-pie to take to school. I mean
Polly would n't. She walked into the buttery, and
banged the door behind her as hard as ever she
The lady did n't say anything, but her cheeks
were rather pink, and she bent and kissed me as if
to hide them. Then Pa helped her into the buggy,
and they drove away.
The next week, Jed went to the grist-mill, the
other end of the village, with some buckwheat to
be ground, and, calling at the post-office coming
home, he found an express-box from Boston, with
Miss Mary Ann Murphy, Redfield, Massachu-
setts," printed on it in large black letters. He
knew that was Polly's name, he said; and never
having heard tell of but one Mary Ann Murphy in
these parts, he hoisted it into the wagon.
Polly was washing by the kitchen-door as he
rattled in at the gate.
Hullo, there he sang out. Here's a box
that's a-wantin' Miss Mary Ann Murphy "
Git along wid yer nonsinse i" Polly said, scrub-
bing at one of Tom's blue gingham shirts. For
Jed is such a fellow for fooling that you never can
be sure when to believe him, and Polly thought it
was a box of starch, or else of soap, that Ma had
ordered from the grocery, and that Jed was only
trying to get her to come and lug it into the
house for him, so he could drive straight on to
the barn.
Ma had set me to picking currants for jelly that
morning, and I was getting over the vegetable-
garden fence with a heaping pail on each arm when
Jed spoke. In a minute, one pail was this side of
the fence, and one was rolling along the path the
other side, and I was in the wagon, reading the big
black letters !
"Oh, Polly, 'tis I hollered. "True's you
live and breathe, a box from Boston Oh, hurry
up! "
Polly stopped short in "The Wearing of the
Green," that she had commenced to sing at the


top of her voice, and whirled about, her mouth
and eyes as round as three pepper-box covers.
Heh said she.
"An express-box for Polly, Jed ?" called Ma,
sticking her head from the kitchen-window. You
don't say so Fetch it right in here." And Ma
whisked the clothes-basket from before the door.
Jed threw the lines on Jerry's back, and shoul-
dered me and the box, and dumped us both on the
There you be, marm !" he said. Want I
should open it ? Them nails appear to be driv' in
pretty tight." For Jed was on tenter-hooks to
know what was in it.
No, I guess not," said Ma. I 'm afraid Jerry
wont stand. Polly and I can open it."
Oh, bless your soul and body, marm, he'll
stand said Jed. Best hoss I ever see fer that."
But Ma would n't hear to his losing the time; so
Jed had to make himself scarce, looking mourn-
fuller than when his grandmother died last spring.
"Come, here's the hatchet, Polly Be a little
spry !" Ma said. For Polly stood with her arms
akimbo, and did n't budge an inch.
Shure, an' who sint it?" she asked. And that
was the only word she had spoken.
Why, I don't know," said Ma. But I can
imagine. Can't you ? "
Polly marched to her tub, her head high in the
I wont tech the would thing said she.
Then I will for you," said Ma, and had it open
in a jiffey.
Underneath the cover was a piece of paper, with
this written on it:

Will Polly please accept these few articles in token that she for-
gives me for having justly offended her by offering pay for a service
which can ,ever be paid for? MRS. E. G. EDSON.

When she heard that, Polly was n't quite so
riled. She said Jessie's Ma was a rale lady, any-
way, and she might as well see what she had sent.
So, wiping her hands on her apron, she planted
herself in the door-way, while Ma went to work to
empty the box.
First, there were six calico dress-patterns,-one
purple, sprinkled with little black rings, and
another pink, with a criggly vine running through
it, and a black-striped white one, and the rest
mixed colors.
Then beneath were three more dresses, of some
sheeny stuff,-alafaca, Ma called it,-black, purple
and brown, that took every inch of dander out of
Polly. She wiped her hands extra clean, and came
and twisted them this way and that, and crinkled
them and smoothed them, and puckered the ends
into folds, and laying them across the ironing-

table, backed toward the wall with her head cocked
sideways, and her eyes squinted together like Mr.
Green's, the portrait-painter, when he looks at
Shure, the Ouane 'u'd be proud to wear thim "
she said; and said she should have the purple for
a wedding-gown.
Then, besides, there was a red and black plaid
shawl, and a whole piece of white muslin, such as
you buy by the yard mostly, and a work-box, with
cases of scissors and needles, and spools of thread
and sewing-silk. And last was a bandbox tied with
string, and that, Ma said, Polly must open.

t i


So Polly pulled a pin from her belt and puttered
at the knot till I 'most had a fit. For Ma wont
ever have a string cut; she says it is a sinful waste.
I thought it never would untie. Polly's fingers
were all thumbs, and twice she dropped the pin.
But it did-all knots do if you pick at them long
enough-and in the box was a splendiferous bon-
net, with green ribbon bows and three pink roses.
Well, I declare said Ma. What more can
you want, Polly ?"
Polly put the bandbox on the floor, and the bon-
net on her head, and started for the sitting-room
Sakes alive Here's another Ma said, and
held up by one of its bows the sweetest little hat
you ever laid eyes on It was light straw, trimmed
with black velvet and blue silk, and had white
daisies fastened to the velvet. Pinned to one of the
streamers was a slip of paper, and on it was writ-
ten, For Kitty."



I just squealed! It was all I could do To
think of that beautiful little hat being for me, Kitty
Hazel Why, I never counted on having anything
half so fine, unless I got to be the Grand Mogul,
or something of that sort !
The lady is very kind, I'm sure," said Ma,
seeming as pleased as could be. Try it on, child.
You can squeal afterward." And she set it on my
I ran and looked in one of Polly's bright milk-
pans that were sunning outside the door, and I
hardly knew myself!
"Aint you smart said I, nodding to the girl
in the pan. She smiled and nodded back, and
looked so jolly that I came near turning a summer-
set, new hat and all !
I wore it to meeting the next Sunday, with my
new blue cambric ; and I tell you what it is-it's
enough sight easier to be good in an old hat than
it is in a new one I tried not to feel stuck-up,
and I kept saying to myself: Kitty Hazel, you're
the same girl that sat here last Sunday, with an
old Leghorn on. You aint any different "
But it was n't much use ; for whenever I 'd raise
my eyes there was Phil Gillis smiling at me from

the judge's pew, and opposite were Dave and Aggie
Stebbins, staring as though they had never seen
the like of me before, and every now and then old
Deacon Pettengil, who sits in front of us, would
turn and peer at me through his green spectacles
so funny that once I nearly giggled.
This all happened last summer, but my hat is as
pretty now as it ever was. Ma says she should
have supposed the blue would have faded some by
this time-blue is such a poor color to wear ; but it
has n't a bit. When it does, I shall take it off, and
have it for a sash for Rachel Tryphena, and the
hat will be 'most as nice as it is now.
N. B.-I asked Polly how she thought of the
umbrella. She said that when she was visiting her
sister, that works for a dress-maker in Boston, she
saw a picture of an old lady who was chased by a
mad bull, and just as the bull was coming at her
like sixty, the old lady turned and opened her um-
brella square in his face. Polly said she always
thought it was so cute of the old lady, and had
meant to do the same when a mad bull chased her,
if she had an umbrella with her. She said it all
popped into her head when she saw the horses.



A STORK and a Crane once frequented the same
marsh. The Stork was a quiet, dignified individ-
ual, with a philosophical countenance. One would
never have thought, from his deeply reflective look,
of the number of frogs and pollywogs, eels and
small fish, that had disappeared in his meditative
mouth. For the Stork was like many another
philosopher, and in spite of his supernaturally wise
external appearance, inside he was just as selfish,
and just as voracious, as all the rest of his kind.
Although he never mentioned the subject, he
was secretly very proud to recall the former gran-
deur of his ancestors, one of whom, in old Greek
days, had been a famous king over the frogs, eels,
and snakes, in a Spartan marsh.
The Crane was a lively little fellow, and not at all
philosophical. He ate his dinner without moral-
izing over it, and felt thankful when he had enough.
He had not a particle of aristocratic blood in his
veins, and, in consequence, rather ridiculed the
possession of that indescribable material by the

Stork. Ridicule as he would, however, he was
really secretly proud of his acquaintance with the
other, and used to say to his friends and relatives
sometimes :
There is no one in the world that more despises
pretentiousness than myself. One only too fre-
quently hears an animal boast of its aristocratic
acquaintances. I never do that. Now, there is
John Stork, of one of our highest families, and
although I am not only on .friendly but intimate
terms with him, and even have been invited to call
upon his estimable family, and make the acquaint-
ance of Miss Stork (I have never had an oppor-
tunity to do so yet), one never hears me boast of
his friendship and intimacy."
To tell the truth, the conversations he held with
the philosophical Stork were frequently so deep,
that he found himself floundering beyond his depth.
For instance, Do you always stand upon one
leg ? said he, one day.
The Stork reflected so long over this question


that the Crane thought he had gone to sleep.
Finally, however, the philosopher said:
No; I do not. I always stand upon the other."
The Crane meditated for a space over this, but
as it was completely beyond his comprehension, he
gave the matter up and changed the subject. His
respect for the Stork's wisdom was vastly increased
by such conversations, for one often takes for wis-
dom what one cannot understand.
These two friends, however, did not always dwell
together in perfect amity. The Stork was so proud
that he frequently galled his humbler companion,
and bitter disputes often arose. It was under the

willing at any time to run a foot-race with you, and
so prove who is the more agile."
"I do not know," answered the Stork, medi-
tatively, whether my family would altogether
approve of my entering into the lists with such a
vulgar creature as yourself." Here he shut one
eye, and looked reflectively with the other at a frog
that sat on a tussock near by. Still, I recollect
that one of my ancestors proved his valor upon a
turbulent duckling once, so I see no logical reason
why I should not compete with you."
And so the matter was settled.
All was hubbub and excitement among the birds

- -Z'-e.-- ~

influence of such a feeling that the Crane burst
forth one day:
"And what are you that you should boast?
You have blue blood in your veins, indeed Per-
haps it is that blue blood that makes you so slug-
gish and stupid."
The Stork meditated a long while over this
speech; finally, he said :
When you accuse me of sluggishness and
stupidity you judge by external appearances, and,
consequently, by deductive logic. Beside, you do
not take collateral matter into the case from which
you draw your inference. You have never seen
me when my physical energies have been aroused,
consequently, your conclusion is both hollow and
baseless-Q. E. D."
The Crane was rather taken aback by this speech,
and, not comprehending it, he felt somewhat hum-
bled. At length he said:
I am no philosopher, but as they say 'the
proof of the pudding is in the eating of it,' I am

when the coming race was announced. The race-
course was so constructed that the larger birds
stood upon one side, and the smaller birds and
animals upon the other. This was so arranged,
chiefly at the request of a deputy of frogs, because,
at a mass meeting once, an albatross had eaten
twenty-seven of these animals in a fit of absent-
mindedness, as he said. Still the frogs desired to
prevent the recurrence of so painful a scene.
The Cassowary was chosen director of the race,
chiefly because he was a famous traveler as well as
a pedestrian himself, and so was a judge of such
matters. He was the same of whom the Gander, the
poet-laureate, had written the poem commencing-
"It was a noble cassowary,
On the plains of Timbuctoo,
That gobbled up a missionary
Body, bones, and hymn-book too."
All were assembled. The champions stood neck
to neck, while the spectators looked on, breathless
with excitement.



Go! cried the Cassowary, and they went.
For a long time they continued neck and neck,
and the excitement rose to fever heat. At this
juncture a mouse attempted to cross the race-
course, and was instantly devoured by an owl, who
acted as police of the course. At length the two
racers re-appeared coming toward the grand stand,
-that is, the place where the Cassowary stood with
the signal-gun or, rather, pistol. The shouts and
cries became more agitated and violent; there was
no doubt about it,-the Stork was ahead! It was
in vain that the gallant little Crane strained every
sinew; the Stork came into the stand a good three
lengths ahead of his adversary. Bang! went the
pistol, and the Stork had won. His adherents
crowded around him cheering vociferously, and

raising him aloft upon their shoulders above the
crowd. Even the Cassowary came forward and
shook hands with him.
Recollect, hereafter," said the successful Stork
to the poor Crane, who stood dejectedly to one
side, not to scorn and undervalue qualities in any
one, because they are not flaunted in the eyes of
the world."
The Crane's adherents maintained that it was a
foul start, while the Stork's friends answered that
when two birds ran a race, it could not well be any-
thing else.
The frogs, the mice, and most of the small birds,
were divided among the successful betters; and,
altogether, it was a day of rejoicing, except to the
frogs, the mice, and most of the small birds.



ONE by one appearing
In their lower sky,
Come a host uncounted
Like the stars on high,
Flashing lights uncertain,
Ever changing place,-
Tricksy constellations
That we cannot trace !

Throbbing through the elm-tree-
Little heart of fire !-
One in lonely longing
Rises ever higher;
Flits across the darkness,
Like a shooting star,
While the changeless heavens
Calmly shine afar.

When the flames are lighting
All the chimney dark,
When the green wood hisses,
And the birchen bark
In the blaze doth redden,
Glow and snap and curl,
Fire-flies, freed from prison,
Merrily dance and whirl.

Children on the hearth-stone,
Peering up the flue,
See a mimic welkin,
Lights that twinkle through,-


Sparks that flash and flicker,
Little short-lived stars,
On the sooty darkness
Glowing red as Mars!

Eager eyes a-watching
Fain would have them pause.
Catch these fire-flies-can you ?-
In a web of gauze !
Ever upward flying
Toward the chimney's crown-
Up to meet the snow-flakes
As they flutter down !



MY young readers have doubtless often observed
upon familiar objects, such as books, china and
steelware, etc., the device of a lion and a horse
(sometimes represented as a unicorn) supporting
between them a shield, surmounted by a crown.
On the shield are certain divisions called quarter-
ings," in one of which you will observe two lions
and a horse. Attached to the whole is the motto,
Dieu et mon droit,-French words, whose meaning
is, God and my right."
If you inquire, you will be told that this device
is the coat-of-arms" of Great Britain,-as the
eagle, shield and olive branch is that of the United
States,-and that all articles thus marked are of
British manufacture.
In old times the national symbol of England was
the rose, of Scotland the thistle, of Ireland the
shamrock, or clover. When England claimed Ire-
land and Scotland, these three were united on the
British royal shield, as we find them in the time of
Queen Elizabeth. On a victory over France, the
symbol of France, a unicorn, was also added, the
unicorn wearing a chain, to denote the subjection
of France to England. This explains the nursery
rhyme which you have no doubt often heard-

The lion and the unicorn fighting for the crown ;
The lion whipped the unicorn all around the town."

The sovereignty of Great Britain is by law
hereditary, but sometimes there are disputes and
wars for possession of the crown, and it passes
into a new family. Thus some of the kings and
queens of Great Britain have belonged to the
family of Plantagenet, others to that of Tudor,

and still others to the Stuarts. George the First
of England was of a family named Guelph, and
all the sovereigns of Great Britain succeeding him,
down to Queen Victoria, have been of this family
and name.
When a new sovereign succeeds to the crown,
he has a right to place his own family coat-of-arms
on the royal shield of Great Britain. George the
First did this. The two lions and the white horse,
which you see on one of the quarterings, is the
coat-of-arms of the Guelphs, who were dukes of
Brunswick and Hanover in Germany. It is there-
fore called the arms of the House of Brunswick,
and it is about this that I now design to tell you.
In order to begin at the beginning, we must go
far back into past ages-almost to the time when
our Savior was upon earth. At that period the
whole northern portion of Europe was inhabited by
wild and barbarous tribes who had never heard of
Christ, but were Pagans and worshiped imaginary
gods, of whom Woden was chief. Among these
races were the Saxons, a fair-haired, fair-com-
plexioned people, of great size and strength, who
inhabited that portion of country now known as
north Germany. They have never been perma-
nently driven out of this country, which is to this
day occupied by their descendants, the Germans.
This latter name signifies a war-like people."
Now, according to the pagan belief, the god
Woden had a favorite white or light-gray horse,
created by magic art, and upon which he bestowed
the power of assisting and protecting warriors. This
horse was regarded as sacred, and shared in the
worship given to Woden. The pagan priests had



no temples; the art of building was unknown to
them; but, instead, their religious ceremonies were
performed in thick groves of oak which were set
apart for the purpose. In these gloomy woods
the priests reared beautiful white horses, which no
man was ever permitted to mount, and which, being
from their birth solemnly dedicated to Woden,
were believed to be gifted by him with the power
of foretelling events by means of certain signs and
motions. Before going into battle these sacred
steeds were consulted, and occasionally one was
sacrificed to Woden or to his white horse, and the
bloody head was then mounted upon a pole, and
borne aloft in the van of the Saxon army, they be-
lieving that it possessed the power of vanquishing
the enemy and protecting themselves. We read
in history that when the great emperor, Charle-
magne, conquered the northern countries, one of
the Saxon leaders, named Wittikind, refused to
submit to him, and that, in consequence, many
bloody battles were fought, wherein the Saxons
bore in their van a tall pole surmounted by a
wooden horse's head. This was their ensign; and
when they afterward became more civilized, they
retained the same emblem,-a white horse painted
upon a black ground,-w'hich remains to this day
the standard or banner of the little kingdom of
In the year 861,-just about one thousand years
ago,-Bruno, the son of a Saxon king, founded a
city in Saxony which he called after himself,
Brunonis Vicus, now known as Brunswick. He
retained as the standard of Brunswick the white
horse of Saxony, and thus it remained until the
end of the three succeeding centuries. About that
time the reigning prince of Brunswick was a certain
Henry Guelph, a leader in the Crusades, noted for
his strength and daring, which acquired for him
the title of Henry the Lion." This prince refused
to own allegiance to the great Emperor of Ger-
many, Frederic Barbarossa. He declared himself
independent, and as a token of defiance set up a
great stone lion in Brunswick, and had the same
symbol placed upon his standard, two lions sup-
porting a shield beneath the white horse.
Thus you now know the origin of the Brunswick
coat-of-arms. But how came the banner of a small
German country to be adopted on the arms of
Great Britain ? This I will now explain.
About the year 1650, the then reigning Duke of
Brunswick, afterward also Elector of Hanover, mar-
ried the granddaughter of King James the First
of England. Their eldest son was named George
Louis. When, on the death of Queen Anne, the
English were in want of a successor, they looked
about among those nearest of kin to the royal
family, and decided to choose this great-grandson

of King James I. Thus it was that George Louis
Guelph-a Saxon-German-came to be King
George the First of England, and this was how
the lion-and-horse" arms of Brunswick and Han-
over came to be also part of the arms of Great
Britain. His successors were George the Second,
George the Third (against whose rule the Ameri-
can colonies rebelled), George the Fourth, Wil-
liam, and lastly Victoria, the present queen, who
is granddaughter to George the Third. Thus you
understand how Queen Victoria is descended from
the princes of Brunswick,-how she happens to be
of German instead of English blood,-and why
her name is Guelph.
Now, whenever you look upon "The lion and
the unicorn fighting for the crown," you will
reflect how strange it is that this great and
enlightened Christian nation should bear on its
proud standard a symbol of pagan superstition.
You will think of the bold Crusader, Henry the
Lion; of Wittikind, the brave Saxon duke who,
after a twenty years' resistance, was finally con-
quered and baptized into Christianity; of the wild,
half-clad Saxons, with their bloody horse-head
ensign; of the Druid priests, who sacrificed human
beings as well as white horses; and so, far back
to the god Woden himself, who was probably
merely some great hero or warrior who lived in a
period so remote that we have no record of it in
And yet, while you are wondering at England
and her relic of Woden-worship, shall I tell you that
here, in America, we too possess relics of this very
pagan god to which some people accord a supersti-
tious regard ? Look on the threshold, or above the
door of some cottage or cabin, and you will see
nailed there a common horse-shoe as a protection
against evil. Examine your grown-up sister's watch-
chain, and you will find attached to it a tiny gold
horse-shoe, studded with diamond nail-heads, which
some friend has given her as a charm" to secure
good luck." These are simply remnants of the
old pagan Woden-worship which we inherit from
our English ancestors, who are partly descended
from the Saxons, as you have probably learned
from your school history. And the word Wednes-
day is a corruption of Woden's-Day, a name given
by our Saxon ancestors to the fourth day of the
week in honor of their god.
When I was recently in Germany, I noticed upon
the gable-end of every cottage and farm-house in
Brunswick and Hanover a curious ornament, con-
sisting of two horses' heads, roughly carved in wood,
mounted upon poles, and placed above the entrance-
doors, in the form of a cross. This was first done
by order of Wittikind, who, upon professing Chris-
tianity, changed the pagan symbols above the


J -

doors of dwellings to the sign of Christianity-the cross. The
ignorant peasants do not know the origin of the custom, but will
tell you that the crossed-heads are placed there to keep out evil
spirits, and to bring good luck to the house."
I enq in Br]inwvicrl the great stone lion which Henry Guelph
_,-,, ., i I h ll .i i..-, I .1.. 1 ll I. ,, : .._ i *.)rld ,

LI l_... .. I. I .. r..... ,' Ir i i .. .. i t-
',i 1 i.-' l.,-..1 -t .. t,',. *I- .. l:,,,. li n,.. i,r ,- .- !h -_ ( -1-1 ..I.I ._hu l e s


IN .

4, '1 '

"J4' '!

----------~--..-.--~ -- ( ,

of Brunswick, in which was born the wife of Geor- *r..::
of England. It stood on the summit of a lofty precipr.,:. 'i:, ,,:'Ih
we had to climb ; then crossing a deep moat by a r, .I- 1 1- li.-,
we entered through a great arched gate-way, surm .... r... I. i-:
Brunswick coat-of-arms, cut in the stone wall. The i*''.-' i: h ..
and ivy and tall trees growing in it far below, thrust the tips of
their branches over the walls. I stopped and took a sketch of
the old gate-way, which I here present my young readers.






I RAN away from a circus," began Ben, but
got no further, for Bab and Betty gave a simul-
taneous bounce of delight, and both cried out at
We 've been to one It was splendid "
You would n't think so if you knew as much
about it as I do," answered Ben, with a sudden
frown and wriggle, as if he still felt the smart of
the blows he had received. We don't call it
splendid; do we, Sancho ?" he added, making a
queer noise, which caused the poodle to growl and
bang the floor irefully with his tail, as he lay close
to his master's feet, getting acquainted with the
new shoes they wore.
"How came you there?" asked Mrs. Moss,
rather disturbed at the news.
Why, my father was the 'Wild Hunter of the
Plains.'" Did n't you ever see or hear of him ?"
said Ben, as if surprised at her ignorance.
Bless your heart, child, I have n't been to a
circus this ten years, and I 'm sure I don't remem-
ber what or who I saw then," answered Mrs. Moss,
amused, yet touched by the son's evident admira-
tion for his father.
Did n't you see him ? demanded Ben, turning
to the little girls.
"We saw Indians and tumbling men, and the
Bounding Brothers of Borneo, and a clown and
monkeys, and a little mite of a pony with blue
eyes. Was he any of them?" answered Betty,
Pooh he didn't belong to that lot. He
always rode two, four, six, eight horses to oncet,
and I used to ride with him till I got too big. My
father was A No. I, and didn't do anything but
break horses and ride 'em," said Ben, with as much
pride as if his parent had been a President.
Is he dead ?" asked Mrs. Moss.
I don't know. Wish I did," and poor Ben
gave a gulp as if something rose in his throat and
choked him.
Tell us all about it, dear, and may be we can
find out where he is," said Ma, leaning forward to
pat the shiny dark head that was suddenly bent
over the dog.
"Yes, ma'am, I will, thank y'," and with an
effort the boy steadied his voice and plunged into
the middle of his story.

Father was always good to me, and I liked
bein' with him after granny died. I lived with her
till I was seven, then father took me, and I was
trained for a rider. You jest oughter have seen
me when I was a little feller all in white tights, and
a gold belt, and pink riggin', standing' on father's
shoulder, or hangin' on to old General's tail, and
him gallopin' full pelt, or father ridin' three horses
with me on his head wavin' flags, and every one
clappin' like fun."
Oh, were n't you scared to pieces ? asked
Betty, quaking at the mere thought.
"Not a bit. I liked it."
So should I cried Bab, enthusiastically.
Then I drove the four ponies in the little
chariot, when we paraded," continued Ben, and I
sat on the great ball up top of the grand car
drawed by Hannibal and Nero. But I did n't like
that, 'cause it was awful high and shaky, and the
sun was hot, and the trees slapped my face, and
my legs ached holding' on."
"What's hanny bells and neroes?" demanded
Big elephants. Father never let 'em put me
up there, and they did n't darst till he was gone;
then I had to, else they'd 'a' thrashed me."
Did n't any one take your part ? asked Mrs.
Yes 'm, 'most all the ladies did; they were very
good to me, 'specially 'Melia. She vowed she
wouldn't go on in the Tunnymunt act if they
did n't stop knockin' me round when I would n't
help old Buck with the bears. So they had to
stop it, 'cause she led first rate, and none of the
other ladies rode half as well as 'Melia."
Bears oh, do tell about them exclaimed
Bab, in great excitement, for at the only circus she
had seen the animals were her delight.
Buck had five of 'em, cross old fellers, and he
showed 'em off. I played with 'em once, jest for
fun, and he thought it would make a hit to have
me show off instead of him. But they had a way
of clawin' and huggin' that was n't nice, and you
could n't never tell whether they were good-natured
or ready to bite your head off. Buck was all over
scars where they'd scratched and bit him, and I
was n't going to do it, and 1 did n't have to, owin'
to Miss St. John's standing' by me like a good one."
Who was Miss St. John ?" asked Mrs. Moss,
rather confused by the sudden introduction of new
names and people.


"Why, she was 'Melia,-Mrs. Smithers, the
ring-master's wife. His name was n't Montgomery
any more'n hers was St. John. They all change
'em to something fine on the bills, you know.
Father used to be Senor Jose Montebello, and I
was Master Adolphus Bloomsbury after I stopped
bein' a flying Coopid and a Infant Progidy."
Mrs. Moss leaned back in her chair to laugh at
that, greatly to the surprise of the little girls, who
were much impressed with the elegance of these
high-sounding names.
Go on with your story, Ben, and tell why you
ran away and what became of your Pa," she said,
composing herself to listen, really interested in the
Well, you see, father had a quarrel with old
Smithers and went off sudden last fall, just before
the tenting season was dver. He told me he was
goin' to a great ridin' school in New York, and
when he was fixed he'd send for me. I was to
stay in the museum and help Pedro with the trick
business. He was a nice man and I liked him,
and 'Melia was good to see to me, and I did n't
mind for awhile. But father did n't send for me,
and I began to have horrid times. If it had n't
been for 'Melia and Sancho I would have cut away
long before I did."
What did you have to do ? "
Lots of things, for times was dull and I was
smart. Smithers said so, anyway, and I had to
tumble up lively when he gave the word. I did n't
mind doin' tricks or showing off Sancho, for father
trained him and he always did well with me. But
they wanted me to drink gin to keep me small, and
I would n't, 'cause father did n't like that kind of
thing. I used to ride tip-top, and that just suited
me till I got a fall and hurt my back; but I had to
go on all the same, though I ached dreadful, and
used to tumble off, I was so dizzy and weak."
What a brute that man must have been!
Why did n't 'Melia put a stop to it?" asked Mrs.
Moss, indignantly.
She died, ma'am, and then there was no one
left but Sanch, so I run away."
Then Ben fell to patting his dog again, to hide
the tears he could not keep from coming at the
thought of the kind friend he had lost.
What did you mean to do?"
Find father; but I could n't, for he was n't at
the ridin' school, and they told me he had gone
out West to buy mustangs for a man who wanted
a lot. So then I was in a fix, for I could n't go to
father, did n't know jest where he was, and I
would n't sneak back to Smithers to be abused.
Tried to make 'em take me at the ridin' school,
but they did n't want a boy, and I traveled along
and tried to get work. But I'd have starved if it

had n't been for Sanch. I left him tied up when I
ran off, for fear they'd say I stole him. He's a
very valuable dog, ma'am, the best trick dog I ever
see, and they'd want him back more than they
would me. He belongs to father, and I hated to
leave him, but I did. I hooked it one dark night,
and never thought I 'd see him ag'in. Next morning'
I was eatin' breakfast in a barn miles away and
dreadful lonesome, when he came tearin' in, all mud
and wet, with a great piece of rope draggin'. He'd
gnawed it, and came after me and would n't go
back or be lost; and I'll never leave him again;
will I, dear old feller ?"
Sancho had listened to this portion of the tale
with intense interest, and when Ben spoke to him
he stood straight up, put both paws on the boy's
shoulders, licked his face with a world of dumb
affection in his yellow eyes, and gave a little whine
which said as plainly as words-
Cheer up, little master; fathers may vanish
and friends die, but I never will desert you."
Ben hugged him close and smiled over his curly,
white head, at the little girls who clapped their
hands at the pleasing tableau, and then went to
pat and fondle the good creature, assuring him
that they entirely forgave the theft of the cake and
the new dinner-pail. Inspired by these endear-
ments and certain private signals given by Ben,
Sancho suddenly burst away to perform all his best
antics with unusual grace and dexterity.
Bab and Betty danced about the room with rap-
ture, while Mrs. Moss declared she was almost
afraid to have such a wonderfully intelligent animal
in the house. Praises of his dog pleased Ben more
than praises of himself, and when the confusion
had subsided he entertained his audience with a
lively account of Sancho's cleverness, fidelity, and
the various adventures in which he had nobly borne
his part.
While he talked Mrs. Moss was making up her
mind about him, and when he came to an end of
his dog's perfections, she said, gravely:
If I can find something for you to do, would
you like to stay here awhile ? "
Oh yes, ma'am, I'd be glad to !" answered
Ben, eagerly; for the place seemed home-like
already, and the good woman almost as motherly
as the departed Mrs. Smithers.
Well, I'll step over to the Judge's to-morrow
to see what he says. Should n't wonder if he 'd
take you for a chore-boy, if you are as smart as
you say. He always has one in the summer, and
I have n't seen any round yet. Can you drive
cows ? "
Hope so ;" and Ben gave a shrug, as if it was
a very unnecessary question to put to a person who
had driven four calico ponies in a gilded chariot.



It may n't be as lively as riding elephants and
playing with bears, but it is respectable, and I
guess you '11 be happier switching Brindle and But-
tercup than being switched yourself," said Mrs.
Moss, shaking her head at him with a smile.
I guess I will, ma'am," answered Ben, with
sudden meekness, remembering the trials from
which he had escaped.
Very soon after this, he was sent off for a good
night's sleep in the back bedroom, with Sancho to
watch over him. But both found it difficult to slum-
ber till the racket overhead subsided, for Bab in-
sisted on playing she was a bear and devouring poor
Betty in spite of her wails, till their mother came
up and put an end to it by threatening to send

_--. -...

Ben and his dog away in the morning if the girls
" didn't behave and be as still as mice."
This they solemnly promised, and they were soon
dreaming of gilded cars and moldy coaches, run-
away boys and dinner-pails, dancing dogs and
twirling tea-cups.


WHEN Ben awoke next morning, he looked about
him for a moment half bewildered, because there
was neither a canvas tent, a barn roof, nor the blue
sky above him, but a neat white ceiling, where
several flies buzzed sociably together, while from

without came, not the tramping of horses, the twit-
ter of swallows, or the chirp of early birds, but the
comfortable cackle of hens and the sound of two
little voices chanting the multiplication table.
Sancho sat at the open window watching the old
cat wash her face, and trying to imitate her with his
great ruffled paw, so awkwardly that Ben laughed,
and Sanch, to hide his confusion at being caught,
made one bound from chair to bed and licked his
master's face so energetically that the boy dived
under the bedclothes to escape from the rough
A rap on the floor from below made both jump
up, and in ten minutes a shiny-faced lad and a
lively dog went racing down-stairs-one to say,
" Good-morning, ma'am," the other to wag his tail
faster than ever tail wagged before, for ham frizzled
on the stove, and Sancho was fond of it.
Did you rest well ?" asked Mrs. Moss, nodding
at him, fork in hand.
"Guess I did! Never saw such a bed. I'm
used to hay and a horse-blanket, and lately nothing
but sky for a cover and grass for my feather bed,"
laughed Ben, grateful for present comforts and
making light of past hardships.
"Clean, sweet corn-husks aint bad for young
bones, even if they have n't got more flesh on
them than yours have," answered Mrs. Moss, giving
the smooth head a motherly stroke as she went by.
Fat aint allowed in our profession, ma'am.
The thinner the better for tight-ropes and tumblin';
likewise bareback-ridin' and spry jugglin'. Muscle's
the thing, and there you are."
Ben stretched out a wiry little arm with a clenched
fist at the end of it, as if he were a young Hercules
ready to play ball with the stove if she gave him
leave. Glad to see him in such good spirits, she
pointed to the well outside, saying pleasantly:
Well, then, just try your muscle by bringing
in some fresh water."
Ben caught up a pail and ran off, ready to be
useful; but while he waited for the bucket to fill
down among the mossy stones, he looked about
him, well pleased with all he saw,-the small brown
house with a pretty curl of smoke rising from its
chimney, the little sisters sitting in the sunshine,
green hills and newly planted fields far and near,
a brook dancing through the orchard, birds singing
in the elm avenue, and all the world as fresh and
lovely as early summer could make it.
Don't you think it's pretty nice here ? asked
Bab, as his eye came back to them after a long
look, which seemed to take in everything, brighten-
ing as it roved.
"Just the nicest place that ever was. Only
needs a horse rounZd somewhere to be complete,"
answered Ben, as the long well-sweep came up


with a dripping bucket at one end, an old grind-
stone at the other.
The Judge has three, but he's so fussy about
them he wont even let us pull a few hairs out of old
Major's tail to make rings of," said Betty, shutting
her arithmetic, with an injured expression.
Mike lets me ride the white one to water when
the Judge is n't 'round. It's such fun to go jouncing
down the lane and back. I do love horses cried
Bab, bobbing up and down on the blue bench to
imitate the motion of white Jenny.
I guess you are a plucky sort of a girl," and
Ben gave her an approving look as he went by,
taking care to slop a little water on Mrs. Puss, who
stood curling her whiskers and humping up her
back at Sancho.
Come to breakfast 1" called Mrs. Moss, and for
about twenty minutes little was said as mush and
milk vanished in a way that would have astonished
even Jack the Giant-killer with his leather bag.
Now, girls, fly round and get your chores done
up; Ben, you go chop me some kindlings; and
I '11 make things tidy. Then we can all start off at
once," said Mrs. Moss, as the last mouthful van-
ished, and Sancho licked his lips over the savory
scraps that fell to his share.
Ben fell to chopping so vigorously that chips flew
wildly all about the shed, Bab rattled the cups
into her dish-pan with dangerous haste, and Betty
raised a cloud of dust sweeping-up," while mother
seemed to be everywhere at once. Even Sanch,
feeling that his fate was at stake, endeavored to
help in his own somewhat erratic way,-now frisk-
ing about Ben at the risk of getting his tail chopped
off, then trotting away to poke his inquisitive nose
into every closet and room whither he followed
Mrs. Moss in her "flying round" evolutions; next
dragging off the mat so Betty could brush the
door-steps, or inspecting Bab's dish-washing by
standing on his hind-legs to survey the table with
a critical air. When they drove him out he was
not the least offended, but gayly barked Puss up a
tree, chased all the hens over the fence, and care-
fully interred an old shoe in the garden, where the
remains of a mutton-bone were already buried.
By the time the others were ready, he had worked
off his superfluous spirits and trotted behind the
party like a well-behaved dog accustomed to go out
walking with ladies. At the cross-roads they sepa-
rated, the little girls running on to school, while
Mrs. Moss and Ben went up to the Squire's big
house on the hill.
"Don't you be scared, child. I'll make it all
right about your running away; and if the Squire
gives you a job, just thank him for it, and do your
best to be steady and industrious ; then you'll get
on, I have n't a doubt," she whispered, ringing the

bell at a side-door on which the word "Allen"
shone in bright letters.
Come in called a gruff voice, and feeling
very much as if he were going to have a tooth out,
Ben meekly followed the good woman, who put on
her pleasantest smile, anxious to make the best
possible impression.
A white-headed old gentleman sat reading a
paper, and peered over his glasses at the new-
comers with a pair of sharp eyes, saying in a testy
tone, which would have rather daunted any one
who did not know what a kind heart he had under
his capacious waistcoat :
Good-morning, ma'am What's the matter
now ? Young tramp been stealing your chickens ?"
Oh dear no, sir exclaimed Mrs. Moss, as if
shocked at the idea. Then, in a few words, she
told Ben's story, unconsciously making his wrongs
and destitution so pathetic by her looks and tones,
that the Squire could not help being interested,
and even Ben pitied himself as if he was some-
body else.
Now then, boy, what can you do ?" asked the
old gentleman, with an approving nod to Mrs.
Moss as she finished, and such a keen glance from
under his bushy brows that Ben felt as if he was
perfectly transparent.
"'Most anything, sir, to get my livin'."
Can you weed ? "
Never did, but I can learn, sir."
"Pull up all the beets and leave the pigweed,
hey ? Can you pick strawberries ? "
Never tried anything but eatin' 'em, sir."
Not likely to forget that part of the job. Can
you ride a horse to plow ? "
Guess I could, sir "-and Ben's eyes began to
sparkle, for he dearly loved the noble animals who
had been his dearest friends lately.
No antics allowed. My horse is a fine fellow,
and I'm very particular about him."
The Squire spoke soberly, but there was a twinkle
in his eye, and Mrs. Moss tried not to smile, for the
Squire's horse was a joke all over the town, being
about twenty years old, and having a peculiar gait
of his own, lifting his fore-feet very high, with a
great show of speed, though never going out of a
jog-trot. The boys used to say he galloped before
and walked behind, and made all sorts of fun of the
big, Roman-nosed beast who allowed no liberties
to be taken with him.
I'm too fond of horses to hurt 'em, sir. As
for riding, I aint afraid of anything on four legs.
The King of Morocco used to kick and bite like
fun, but I could manage him first-rate."
Then you'd be able to drive cows to pasture,
perhaps ? "
"I've driven elephants and camels, ostriches



and grizzly bears, and mules, and six yellow ponies
all to onct. May be I could manage cows if I tried
hard," answered Ben, endeavoring to be meek and
respectful when scorn filled his soul at the idea of
not being able to drive a cow.
The Squire liked him all the better for the droll
mixture of indignation and amusement betrayed by
the fire in his eyes and the sly smile round his lips;
and being rather tickled by Ben's list of animals,
he answered, gravely :
We don't raise elephants and camels much
round here. Bears used to be plenty, but folks got

I '11 make inquiries concerning your father,
boy; meantime mind what you are about, and
have a good report to give when he comes for
you," returned the Squire, with a warning wag of
a stern fore-finger.
Thank y', sir. I will, sir. Father'l1 come just
as soon as he can, if he is n't sick or lost," mur-
mured Ben, inwardly thanking his stars that he
had not done anything to make him quake before
that awful finger, and resolving that he never
Here a red-headed Irishman came to the door,


tired of them. Mules are numerous, but we have
the two-legged kind, and as a general thing prefer
Shanghae fowls to ostriches."
He got no farther, for Ben laughed out so infec-
tiously that both the others joined him, and some-
how that jolly laugh seemed to settle matters better
than words. As they stopped, the Squire tapped
on the window behind him, saying, with an attempt
at the former gruffness :
We'll try you on cows awhile. My man will
show you where to drive them, and give you some
odd jobs through the day. I'll see what you are
good for, and send you word to-night. Mrs. Moss,
the boy can sleep at your house, can't he ?"
Yes, indeed, sir. He can go on doing it, and
come up to his work just as well as not. I can see
to him then, and he wont be a care to any one,"
said Mrs. Moss, heartily.

and stood eying the boy with small favor while the
Squire gave his orders.
"Pat, this lad wants work. He's to take the
cows and go for them. Give him any light jobs
you have, and let me know if he's good for any-
Yis, your hqnor. Come out o' this, b'y, till I
show ye the bastes," responded Pat; and, with a
hasty good-bye to Mrs. Moss, Ben followed his new
leader, sorely tempted to play some naughty trick
upon him in return for his ungracious reception.
But in a moment he forgot that Pat existed, for
in the yard stood the Duke of Wellington, so named
in honor of his Roman nose. If Ben had known
anything about Shakspeare he would have cried,
"A horse, a horse !-my kingdom for a horse "
for the feeling was in his heart, and he ran up to
the stately animal without a fear. Duke put back


his ears and swished his tail as if displeased for a
moment; but Ben looked straight in his eyes, gave
a scientific stroke to the iron-gray nose, and uttered
a chirrup which made the ears prick up as if recog-
nizing a familiar sound.
"He'll nip ye, if ye go botherin' that way.
L'ave him alone, and attind to the cattle as his
honor tould ye," commanded Pat, who made a
great show of respect toward Duke in public, and
kicked him brutally in private.
I aint afraid I You wont hurt me, will you,
old feller? See there now!-he knows I'm a
friend, and takes to me right off," said Ben, with
an arm around Duke's neck, and his own cheek
confidingly laid against the animal's, for the intelli-
gent eyes spoke to him as plainly as the little
whinny which he understood and accepted as a
The Squire saw it all from the open window, and
suspecting from Pat's face that trouble was brew-
ing, called out:
Let the lad harness Duke, if he can. I 'm
going out directly, and he may as well try that as
Ben was delighted, and proved himself so brisk
and handy that the roomy chaise stood at the door
in a surprisingly short time, with a smiling little
ostler at Duke's head when the Judge came out.
His affection for the horse pleased the old gentle-
man, and his neat way of harnessing suited as well;
but Ben got no praise except a nod and a brief
"All right, boy," as the equipage went creaking
and jogging away.
Four sleek cows filed out of the barn-yard when
Pat opened the gate, and Ben drove them down
the road to a distant pasture where the early grass
awaited their eager cropping. By the school they
went, and the boy looked pityingly at the black,
brown and yellow heads bobbing past the windows
as a class went up to recite, for it seemed a hard
thing to the liberty-loving lad to be shut up there
so many hours on a morning like that.
But a little breeze that was playing truant round
the steps did Ben a service without knowing it, for
a sudden puff blew a torn leaf to his feet, and see-
ing a picture he took it up. It evidently had fallen
from some ill-used history, for the' picture showed
some queer ships at anchor, some oddly dressed
men just landing, and a crowd of Indians dancing
about on the shore. Ben spelt out all he could
about these interesting personages, but could not
discover what it meant, because ink evidently had
deluged the page, to the new reader's great dis-
"I'll ask the girls; may be they will know,"
said Ben to himself as, after looking vainly for more
stray leaves, he trudged on, enjoying the bobolink's

song, the warm sunshine, and a comfortable sense
of friendliness and safety, which soon set him to
whistling as gayly as any blackbird in the meadow.
AFTER supper that night, Bab and Betty sat in
the old porch playing with Josephus and Belinda,
and discussing the events of the day, for the ap-
pearance of the strange boy and his dog had been
a most exciting occurrence in their quiet lives.
They had seen nothing of him since morning, as
he took his meals at the Squire's, and was at work
with Pat in a distant field when the children passed.
Sancho had stuck closely to his master, evidently
rather bewildered by the new order of things, and
bound to see that no harm happened to Ben.
"I wish they'd come. It's sun-down, and I
heard the cows mooing, so I know they have gone
home," said Betty, impatiently; for she regarded
the new comer in the light of an entertaining book,
and wished to read on as fast as possible.
I 'm going to learn the signs he makes when
he wants Sancho to dance; then we can have fun
with him whenever we like. He's the dearest dog
I ever saw?" answered Bab, who was fonder of
animals than her sister.
Ma said-Ow, what's that!" cried Betty, with
a start as something bumped against the gate out-
side, and in a moment Ben's head peeped over the
top as he swung himself up to the iron arch, in the
middle of which was the empty lantern frame.
Please to locate, gentlemen; please to locate.
The performance is about to begin with the great
Flyin' Coopid act, in which Master Bloomsbury
has appeared before the crowned heads of Europe.
Pronounced by all beholders the most remarkable
youthful progidy agoin'. Hooray here we are!"
Having rattled off the familiar speech in Mr.
Smithers's elegant manner, Ben began to cut up
such capers that even a party of dignified hens,
going down the avenue to bed, paused to look on
with clucks of astonishment, evidently fancying
that salt had set him to fluttering and tumbling as
it did them. Never had the old gate beheld such
antics, though it had seen gay doings in its time;
for of all the boys who had climbed over it, not one
had ever stood on his head upon each of the big
balls which ornamented the posts, hung by his
heels from the arch, gone round and round like a
wheel with the bar for an axis, played a tattoo with
his toes while holding on by his chin, walked about
the wall on his hands, or closed the entertainment
by festooning himself in an airy posture over the
side of the lantern frame, and kissing his hand to
the audience, as a well-bred Cupid is supposed to
do on making his bow.



The little girls clapped and stamped enthusiasti-
cally, while Sancho, who had been calmly survey-
ing the show, barked his approval as he leaped up
to snap at Ben's fec t.
Come down and tell what you did up at the
Squire's. Was he cross? Did you have to work
hard ? Do you like it?" asked Bab, when the
noise had subsided.
It's cooler up here," answered Ben, compos-
ing himself in the frame, and fanning his hot face
with a green spray broken from the tall bushes
rustling odorously all about him. I did all sorts
of jobs. The old gentleman was n't cross; he gave
me a dime, and I like him first-rate. But I just
hate Carrots "; he swears at a feller, and fired a
stick of wood at me. Guess I '11 pay him off when
I get a chance."
Fumbling in his pocket to show the bright dime,
he found the torn page, and remembered the thirst
for information which had seized him in the morning.
Look here, tell me about this, will you ? What
are these chaps up to ? The ink has spoilt all but
the picture and this bit of reading. I want to know
what it means. Take it to 'em, Sanch."
The dog caught the leaf as it fluttered to the
ground, and carrying it carefully in his mouth,
deposited it at the feet of the little girls, seating
himself before them with an air of deep interest.
Bab and Betty picked it up and read it aloud in
unison, while Ben leaned from his perch to listen
and learn.
When day dawned land was visible. A pleas-
ant land it was. There were gay flowers, and tall
trees with leaves and fruit such as they had never
seen before. On the shore were unclad, copper-
colored men, gazing with wonder at the Spanish
ships. They took them for great birds, the white
sails for their wings, and the Spaniards for superior
beings brought down from heaven on their backs.' "
Why, that's Columbus finding San Salvador.
Don't you know about Jim ? demanded Bab, as
if she were one of the superior beings," and inti-
mately acquainted with the immortal Christopher.
No, I don't. Who was he anyway? I s'pose
that's him paddlin' ahead; but which of the
Injuns is Sam Salvindoor?" asked Ben, rather
ashamed of his ignorance, but bent on finding out
now he had begun.
My gracious twelve years old and not know
your Quackenbos," laughed Bab, much amused,
but rather glad to find that she could teach the
whirligig boy" something, for she considered
him a remarkable creature.
I don't care a bit for your quackin' boss, who-
ever he is. Tell about this fine feller with the
ships ; I like him," persisted Ben.
So Bab, with frequent interruptions and hints

from Betty, told the wonderful tale in a simple
way, which made it easy to understand, for she
liked history, and had a lively tongue of her own.
I'd like to read some more. Would my ten
cents buy a book?" asked Ben, anxious to learn a
little since Bab laughed at him.
"No, indeed! I'll lend you mine when I'm
not using it, and tell you all about it," promised
Bab, forgetting that she did not know all about
it" herself yet.
I don't have any time only evenings, and then
may be you '11 want it," begun Ben, in whom the
inky page had roused a strong curiosity.
I do get my history in the evening, but you
could have it mornings, before school."
I shall have to go off early, so there wont be
any chance. Yes, there will,-I '11 tell you how to
do it: Let me read while I drive up the cows.
Squire likes 'em to eat slow along the road, so 's to
keep the grass short and save mowin'. Pat said
so, and I could do history instead of loafin' round !"
cried Ben, full of this bright idea.
How will I get my book back in time to re-
cite ?" asked Bab, prudently.
Oh, I '11 leave it on the window-sill, or put it
inside the door as I go back. I 'll be real careful,
and just as.soon as I earn enough, I '11 buy you a
new one and take the old one. Will you ? "
"Yes; but I'll tell you a nicer way to do.
Don't put the book on the window, 'cause teacher
will see you; or inside the door, 'cause some one
may steal it. You put it in my cubby-house, right
at the corner of the wall nearest the big maple.
You '11 find a cunning place between the roots that
stick up under the flat stone. That's my closet,
and I keep things there. It's the best cubby of all,
and we take turns to have it."
I '11 find it, and that'll be a first-rate place,"
said Ben, much gratified.
I could put my reading-book in sometimes, if
you'd like it. There 's lots of pretty stories in it
and pictures," proposed Betty, rather timidly, for
she wanted to share the benevolent project, but
had little to offer, not being as good a scholar as
bright Bab.
I 'd like a arithmeticc better. I read tip-top,
but I aint much on 'rithmetic ; so, if you can spare
yours, I might take a look at it. Now I 'm going
to earn wages, I ought to know about addin' 'em
up, and so on," said Ben, with the air of a Vander-
bilt oppressed with the care of millions.
SI 'll teach you that. Betty does n't know much
about sums. But she spells splendidly, and is
always at the head of her class. Teacher is real
proud of her, 'cause she never misses, and spells
hard, fussy words, like chi-rog-ra-fhy and bron-
chi-tis as easy as anything."


Bab quite beamed with sisterly pride, and Betty
smoothed down her apron with modest satisfaction,
for Bab seldom praised her, and she liked it very
I never went to school, so that's the reason I
aint smart. I can write, though, better'n some of
the boys up at school. I saw lots of names on the
shed door. See here now," and scrambling down,
Ben pulled out a cherished bit of chalk and flour-
ished off ten letters of the alphabet, one on each of
the dark stone slabs that paved the walk.
Those are beautiful! I can't make such curly
ones. Who taught you to do it?" asked Bab, as
she and Betty walked up and down admiring them.
Horse blankets," answered Ben, soberly.
What! cried both girls, stopping to stare.
Our horses all had their names on their blank-

ets, and I used to copy 'em. The wagons had
signs, and I learned to read that way after father
taught me my letters off the red and yellow posters.
First word I knew was lion, 'cause I was always
goin' to see old Jubal in his cage. Father was real
proud when I read it right off. I can draw one,
Ben proceeded to depict an animal intended to
represent his lost friend; but Jubal would not have
recognized his portrait, since it looked much more
like Sancho than the king of the forest. The chil-
dren admired it immensely, however, and Ben gave
them a lesson in natural history which was so inter-
esting that it kept them busy and happy till bed-
time; for the boy described what he had seen
in such lively language, and illustrated in such a
droll way, it was no wonder they were charmed.

(To be continued.)



A PUssY-CAT and a Black-and-Tan
Were shut in a room together,
And, after a season of quiet, began
To talk of the change in the weather,
And.new spring fashions, and after that
They had a sort of musical chat.

Said Puss: "To me it is quite absurd-
But tastes and opinions vary;
And some have declared that no beast or bird
Can sing like the small canary,-
Who, if it be true as I 've heard it told,
Is really worth more than its weight in gold !"

Said the Black-and-Tan, with a pensive smile:
I've wanted to call attention
To this bit of scandal for quite a while,
And, if not amiss, to mention
That my daily allowance of bark and w(h)ine
Has greatly improved this voice of mine."

It has," said Puss, with a comic grin;
" The words of truth you have spoken;
A name for ourselves we must strive to win
At once, now the ice is broken;
For one or two doses of catnip tea
Have had a wondrous effect on me!




"'T was only the other night I strayed
Where a silvery moonbeam slanted,
And gave such a beautiful serenade
You 'd have thought the place enchanted.
It roused the neighborhood to a pitch
Of praise, or envy-I can't tell which."

Said the Black-and-Tan, "Why should n't we try
To sing a duet together ?"
Said the Puss, I see no reason why
We can't; and we'll show them whether
To birds and bipeds alone belong
The gift of singing a pleasing song!"

, !, ', ,. _
i,I 'iI, ,i' -- -2~-
i1',~~~~~~= -l!J 'r-- =--

*;'. --"... ,- 7J -

,,, __- .," _

They sang-and they sang; but oh, my dears !
If you had been anywhere near them,
You'd have shut your eyes and stopped your ears,
And wished that you could n't hear them.
'T was a brilliant effort, upon my word,
And nearly killed the canary-bird.

The Pussy-cat and the Black-and-Tan
With the music were so delighted,
They will give a concert as soon as they can,
And perhaps we may be invited.
Bow-wow Miaow I 'm sorry, you know,
I've another engagement-and cannot go!
VOL. V.--4.






MY DEAR COUSINs: Shall I really be talking
to you as I sit here in my study with the river
Thames now flowing, now ebbing, past my win-
dow ? I am uttering no word, I am only writing;
and you are not listening, not reading, for it will
be a long time ere what I am now thinking shall
reach you over the millions of waves that swell and
sink between us. And yet I shall in very truth be
talking to you.
In like manner, with divine differences, God
began to talk to us ages before we were born:
I will not say before we began to be, for, in a
sense, that very moment God thought of us we
began to exist, for what God thinks of, is. We
have been lying for ages in his heart without know-
ing it. But now we have begun to know it. We
are here, with a great beginning, and before us arl
end so great that there is no end to it. But we
must take heed, for, else, the very greatness will
turn to confusion and terror.
Shall I explain what made me begin my letter
to you just this way ?-I was sitting in my room,
as I am now, thinking what I should say to you.
And as I sat thinking after something worth saying
and fit to say, my room spoke to me,-that is, out
of its condition and appearance came a thought
into my mind. And that you may understand how
it came, and how it was what it was, I will first
show you what my room at this moment is like.
For the thought had nothing to do with the sun
outside, or the shining river, or the white-sailed
boats, neither with the high wind that is tossing
the rosy hawthorn-bloom before my windows, or
with the magnolia trained up the wall and looking
in at one of them : it had to do only with the inside
of the room.
It is a rather long room. The greater part has
its walls filled with books, and I am sitting at one
end quite surrounded by them. But when I lift
my eyes, I look to the other end, and into the
heart of a stage for acting upon, filling all the
width and a third part of the length of the room.
It is surrounded with curtains, but those in front
of it are withdrawn, and there the space of it lies
before me, a bare, empty hollow of green and blue
and red, which to-morrow evening will be filled
with group after group of moving, talking, shining,
acting men and women, boys and girls. It looked
to me like a human heart, waiting to be filled with
the scenes of its own story,-with this difference,
that the heart itself will determine of what sort

those groups shall be. Then there grew up in my
mind the following little parable, which, to those
who do not care to understand it, will be dark,-
but to those who desire to know its meaning, may
give light:
There was once a wise man to whom was granted
the power to send forth his thoughts in shapes that
other people could see. And, as he walked abroad
in the world, he came upon some whom his wisdom
might serve. One day, having, in a street of the
city where he dwelt, rescued from danger a boy
about ten years of age, he went with him to his
mother, and begged that he might take him to his.
house for a week. When they heard his name,
the parents willingly let their son go with him.
And he taught him many things, and the boy loved
and trusted him.
When the boy was asleep in bed, the wise man
would go to his room at midnight, and lay his ear
to his ear, and hearken to his dreams. Then he
would stand and spread out his arms over him and
look up. And the boy would smile, and his sleep
was the deeper.
Once, just an hour after the sage had thus visited
him, the boy woke, and found himself alone in the
middle of the night. He could not get to sleep
again, and grew so restless that he rose and went
down the stair. The moon shone in at every west-
ern window, and his way was "now in glimmer
and now in gloom." On the first landing he saw
a door wide open, which he had never seen open
till now. It was the door of the wizard's room.
Within, all was bright with moonlight, and the boy
first peeped, then stepped in, and peered timidly
about him.
The farther end of the room was hidden by a cur-
tain stretched quite across it, and, curious to see
what was behind, he approached it. But ere he
reached it, the curtain slowly divided in the midst
and, drawn back to each side, revealed a place with
just light enough in it from the moonshine to show
that it was a dungeon. In the middle of it, upon
the floor, sat a prisoner, with fetters to his feet, and
manacles to his hands; an iron collar was round
his neck, and a chain from the collar had its last
link in an iron staple deep-fixed in the stone floor.
His head was sunk on his bosom, and he sat abject
and despairing.
"What a wicked man he must be!" thought
the boy, and was turning to run away in terror,
when the man lifted his head, and his look caught



and held him. For he saw a pale, worn, fierce
countenance, which, somehow, through all the
added years, and all the dirt that defiled it, he
recognized as his own. For a moment the prisoner
gazed at him mournfully; then a wild passion of
rage and despair seized him; he dragged and tore
at his chains, raved and shrieked, and dashed him-
self on the ground like one mad with imprisonment.
For a time he lay exhausted, then half rose and
sat as before, gazing helplessly upon the ground.
By and by a spider came creeping along the bar
of his fetters. He put out his hand, and, with the
manacle on his wrist, crushed it, and smiled. In-
stantly through the gloom came a strong, clear,
yet strangely sweet voice-and the very sweetness
had in it something that made the boy think of
fire. And the voice said:
So in the midst of misery, thou takest delight
in destruction Is it not well thou art chained?
If thou wast free, thou wouldst in time destroy the
world. Tame thy wild beast, or sit there till I
tame him."
The prisoner peered and stared through the dusk,
but could see no one; he fell into another fit of
furious raving, but not a hair-breadth would one
link of chain yield to his wildest endeavor.
Oh, my mother he cried, as he sank again
into the grave of exhaustion.
Thy mother is gone from thee," said the voice,
outworn by thine evil ways. Thou didst choose
to have thyself and not thy mother, and there thou
hast thyself, and she is gone. I only am left to care
for thee-not with kisses and sweet words, but with
a dungeon. Unawares to thyself thou hast forged
thine own chains, and riveted them upon thy limbs.
Not Hercules could free thee or himself from such
The man burst out weeping, and cried with
sobs :
What then am I to do, for the burden of them
is intolerable ? "
What I will tell thee," said the voice ; for so
shall thy chains fall from thee."
I will do it," said the man.
Thy prison is foul," said the voice.
It is," answered the prisoner.
"Cleanse it, then."
How can I cleanse it when I cannot move ?"
Cannot move Thy hands were upon thy face
a moment gone-and now they are upon the floor !
Near one of those hands lies a dead mouse; yon-
der is an open window. Cast the dead thing out
into the furnace of life, that it may speedily make
an end thereof."
With sudden obedient resolve the prisoner made
the endeavor to reach it. The chain pulled the
collar hard, and the manacle wrenched his wrist;

but he caught the dead thing by the tail, and with
a fierce effort threw it ; out of the window it flew
and fell-and the air of his dungeon seemed already
After a silence, came the voice again:
"Behind thee lies a broom," it said; "reach
forth and take it, and sweep around thee as far as
thy chains will yield thee scope."
The man obeyed, and, as he swept, at every
stroke he reached farther. At length,-how it
came he could not tell, for his chains hung heavy
upon him still,-he found himself sweeping the
very foot of the walls.
A moment more, and he stood at the open win-
dow, looking out into the world. A dove perched
upon the window-sill, and walked inquiringly in;
he caught it in his hands, and looked how to close
the window, that he might secure its company.
Then came the voice:
"Wilt thou, a prisoner, make of thyself a
jailer ? "
He opened his hands, and the dove darted
into the sunlight. There it fluttered and flashed
for a moment, like a bird of snow; then re-
entered, and flew into his very hands. He stroked
and kissed it. The bird went and came, and was
his companion.
Still, his chains hung about him, and he sighed
and groaned under their weight.
"Set thee down," said the voice, "and polish
thine irons."
He obeyed, rubbing link against link busily with
his hands. And thus he labored-as it seemed to
the boy in the vision-day after day, until at last
every portion within his reach, of fetter, and chain,
and collar, glittered with brightness.
Go to the window," then said the voice, and
lay thee down in the sunshine."
He went and lay down, and fell asleep. When
he awoke, he began to raise himself heavily; but,
lo the sun had melted all the burnished parts of
his bonds, the rest dropped from him, and he
sprung to his feet. For very joy of lightness, he
ran about the room like a frolicking child. Then
said the voice once more:
"Now carve thee out of the wall the figure of a
man, as perfect as thou canst think and make it."
Alas said the prisoner to himself, I know
not how to carve or fashion the image of any-
But as he said it, he turned with a sigh to find
among the fragments of his fetter:x what piece of
iron might best serve him for a clisel. To work
he set, and many and weary were the hours he
wrought, for his attempts appeared to him nothing
better than those of a child, and again and ever
again as he carved, he had to change his purpose,


and cut away what he had carved; for the thing
he wrought would not conform itself to the thing
he thought, and it seemed he made no progress in
the task Lhat was set him. But he did not know
that it was because his thought was not good enough
to give strength and skill to his hand,-that it
seemed too good for his hand to follow.
One night he wrought hard by the glimmer of
his wretched lamp, until, overwearied, he fell fast
asleep, and slept like one dead. When he awoke,
lo a man of light, lovely and grand, who stood
where he had been so wearily carving the unre-
sponsive stone He rose and drew nigh. Behold,
it was an opening in the wall, through which his free-
dom shone The man of light was the door into
the universe. And he darted through the wall.
As he vanished from his sight, the boy felt the
wind of the morning lave his forehead; but with
the prisoner vanished the vision; he was alone,
with the moon shining through the windows. Too
solemn to be afraid, he crept back to his bed, and
fell fast asleep.
In the morning, he knew there had come to him
what he now took for a strange dream, but he re-
membered little of it, and thought less about it,,
and the same day the wizard took him home.
His mother was out when he arrived, and he
had not been in five minutes before it began to
rain. It was holiday-time, and there were no les-
sons, and the school-room looked dismal as a new
street. He had not a single companion, and the
rain came down with slow persistence. He tried
to read, hut could not find any enjoyment in it.
His thoughts grew more and more gloomy, until
at last his very soul was disquieted within him.
When his mother came home and sought him in
the school-room, she found him lying on the floor,
sullen and unkind. Although he knew her step
as she entered, he never looked up; and when she
spoke to him, he answered like one aggrieved.
"I am sorry you are unhappy," said his mother,
sweetly. "I did not know you were to be home
to-day. Come with me to my room."
He answered his mother insolently:
I don't want to go with you. I only want to
be left alone."
His mother turned away, and, without another
word, left the room.
The cat came in, went up to him purring, and
rubbed herself against him. He gave her such a

blow that she flew out again, in angry fright, with
her back high above her head. And the rain
rained faster, and the wind began to blow, and the
misery settled down upon his soul like lead. At
last he wept with his face on the floor, quite overmas-
tered by the most contemptible of all passions-
Again the voice of his mother came to him.
The wizard had in the meantime come to see her,
and had just left her.
Get up, my boy," she said, in a more com-
manding tone than he had ever heard from her
With her words the vision returned upon him,
clear, and plain, and strong. He started in terror,
almost expecting to hear the chains rattle about
"Get up, and make the room tidy. See how
you have thrown the books about!" said his
He dared not disobey her. He sprung to his
feet, and as he reduced the little chaos around him
to order, first calmness descended, and then shame
arose. As he fulfilled her word, his mother stood
and looked on. The moment he had finished, he
ran to her, threw his arms about her neck, burst
into honest, worthy tears, and cried:
"Mother! "
Then, after a while, he sobbed out:
"I am sorry I was so cross and rude to my
She kissed him, and put her arms around him,
and with his mind's eye he saw the flap of the
white dove's wing. She took him by the hand and
led him to the window. The sun was shining, and
a grand rainbow stood against the black curtain
of the receding cataract.
Come, my child," she said; we will go out
It was long years ere the boy understood all the
meanings of the vision. I doubt if he understands
them all yet. But he will one day. And I can
say no more for the wisest of the readers, or for
the writer himself, of this parable.
The Father of all the boys on earth and in
heaven be with the boys of America! and when
they grow up, may they and the men of England
understand, and love, and help each other I
Amen! Your friend,





(A Story for /the Kinduergarten Children.)

BY H. E. H.

LITTLE ANNIE had been quite ill, and her
mamma thought best to keep her at home from
the Kindergarten; but she was now almost well
again, and had been promised she should return
to her little companions in two more days. Two
days seems a long time to a little girl, and Annie
seemed so sadly to miss all the pretty amusements
of the Kindergarten, that mamma tried to think

(OPt r4Q~i

curls, her bright blue eyes, and arms and hands
which would move quite as Alice could move her
own. Then there were four younger children, and
even old Peggy-the rag-baby-was made to sit up
very stiff and straight with the aid of a little string,
and the lesson began.
Annie took out the yellow ball and asked the
babies to point out something in the room the same


iv t

" 5

( .' -

what she could do to interest her. At last a very
bright thought came into her head, and she ran
into the hall and whispered it to papa, who was
just putting on his hat and coat to go out.
He came back very soon, and brought Annie a
box with the Kindergarten colored balls in it.
Oh she cried, now I can play Kindergar-
ten with my dolls, for they are really growing up
quite ignorant, especially Arabella Louisa, who
asked me, only yesterday, to cut her apple into
three halves."
All the little stools in the house were soon col-
lected and brought to the nursery, where they were
placed in true Kindergarten fashion, and the dolls
seated on them with heels together and toes turned
out. Rosie was there with her beautiful golden

color. Rosie managed, with a little help from her
teacher, to raise her kid arm and point with her
dainty finger to the canary-bird.
Point to something round like the ball," said
little Annie, and Arabella Louisa made herself very
cross-eyed looking down at her gold beads, but was
too bashful to speak. Next Annie brought out the
purple ball and laid it down. Then the red and
green ones came out, and, lastly, the orange and
blue. Now the teacher began to look very dull,
even duller than her scholars; her eyelids began
to droop, and she spoke very slowly, and said:
" Children,-can-you-count-the-balls ?" but
not hearing any answer, she looked up and found
they had all disappeared, and that she was no
longer in the nursery. Before her was a beautiful


green field dotted all over with buttercups and
daisies. After she had stepped around carefully
on the soft grass and smelt the flowers, she heard
some one call her name, and, looking up, she saw
a beautiful castle standing quite alone by itself in
the air, while a little fairy in a yellow, gauzy dress
beckoned her to come up.
Oh !" thought Annie, "how I should like to
go and make her a pretty courtesy, but I have no
wings and cannot fly "
The kind fairy seeing the sad look on the little
girl's face, cried out: Wait a minute till we get
our fairy pipe."
Annie could but wonder of what use a pipe would
be, but she had been taught to be patient and wait
until things were explained to her; so she stood
very quiet, and soon saw the fairy in yellow come
floating down to the earth. Behind her came
another little creature all in red, and still behind
her a third in a beautiful blue dress. Between
them they carried a long pipe, much like the one
Roger, the gardener, smoked; and when they were
in front of the little girl they began to blow through
it very hard, and Annie soon found herself inside a
a large soap-bubble, and felt that she was gently
floating upward in her fairy balloon. When she
reached the castle she touched the thin wall with
her fingers and it melted away, and left her stand-
ing in Fairy Land !
Her three companions-the fairy in yellow, the
one in red, and 'the one in blue-crowded around
her, and cried "Welcome!" three times. Then they
made a place for three more, who tried to smile and
say Welcome! also, but could only look very
sad and wipe a tiny tear from their little eyes.
Now, Annie was a kind little girl, and she asked
them in her gentlest voice what made them sad,
and they all replied: Oh, we want some dresses
so badly; these are only our little skirts made out
ot cobwebs."
What color do you want? said Annie.
"Well," said the first, "I want one of green,
like the beautiful grass and the leaves of the trees."
Ah sighed Annie, if I could only remem-
ber how our teacher told us to make green, but I
am afraid I have forgotten."
Away ran one of the fairies, and soon came back
with a little white cap, which she placed upon An-
nie's head, saying: "This is our thinking-cap, and
as soon as it touched the child's brown curls, she
cried : I've thought If you mix yellow and
blue together it will make green ; but how can we
do it ? "
Oh, we know all the six cried together, and
they brought a lily filled with dew, and the fairy
with the yellow dress and the one with the blue
dress dipped their little skirts in it, and they stirred

the dew around with a tiny wand, and took out a
lovely green robe, which was put on the fairy who
had chosen that color, and she began to smile very
Now, the next one stepped up, and said: "
want a dress of purple like the beautiful sweet
violets which grow in our little gardens."
As Annie still had the thinking-cap on, she
quickly told them that red and blue must be mixed
together, and another lily was brought and the red
and blue dresses dipped in it; and after some stir-
ring, out came a beautiful purple frock, and the
fairy who had chosen this smiled even more sweetly
than the other one.
Now, Annie turned to the last one and asked her
what color she wanted, and she replied: I want
a dress of orange."
I do not need the cap this time," said Annie,
"for I remember that red and yellow will make
So a third lily was brought by the fairies, and
when the red and yellow dresses were dipped in it,
out came one of an orange color, and the fairy who
put this on really laughed aloud. Then taking
hold of hands, all the little things began to dance
gayly around Annie, who was quite tired from her
long journey, and had asked permission to lie on
the soft bed of moss.
She noticed that wherever the red fairy went the
green one followed close behind. The blue fairy
and the one with the orange dress kept close to-
gether with their arms around each other, and the
yellow and purple fairies kissed, and seemed to say
such very pretty things of each other that Annie
thought they must be the complementary colors that
she had heard her mother talk about. Just now it
grew quite dark, and as Annie looked up at the
clouds she felt a rain-drop on her cheek, and look-
ing at her companions she saw that every drop
clung to their clothing, and looked like beautiful
diamonds and pearls. The shower lasted only a
little while, and then the sun came out, and the
fairies all called out: Good-by, kind Lady Annie,
we are wanted now away up in the sky and they
floated up one above the other, and stretched them-
selves out quite long, and arched their bodies very
gracefully; and as Annie turned her face away
from where the sun was setting, she saw in. the
opposite direction a beautiful rainbow, and she
knew why the fairies had been called away.
"Annie Annie "
Why, that is my name," thought the little girl;
and she gave a jump and opened her eyes, and can
you believe me, she was back in the nursery, the
balls were lying on the floor just as she had left
them, and the dolls were all staring at her with
their round glass eyes.







THREE travelers, who had been found asleep in
the royal park, were once brought before King
Jollimon. In answer to inquiries, they said that
they were story-tellers, who earned their living by
relating those tales and legends of which the in-
habitants of Jolliland are so extravagantly fond.
If that be so," said the king, and if you can
tell stories worth hearing, you are indeed welcome.
The court story-teller has just been banished for
presuming to tell the same story twice, and his
place is unfilled. It would be a right royal idea to
have three story-tellers instead of one."
So the three travelers, after having been re-
freshed with food and drink, were bidden to seat

themselves at the august feet of King Jollimon;
that they might prove their power to please the
royal fancy by strange and unheard tales.
They were all old and withered; and the first
had a crooked back, the second a crooked nose,
and the third a crooked mouth. He of the crooked
back began, and told the tale of

There once lived a young and accomplished
prince called Orca. His father was king over all
the country and the neighboring provinces, and
Orca was his only heir.
The prince was a daring hunter, and went often




to the royal forests, sometimes in company with be wondered at, for Orca was every inch a prince,
the lords of the court, but oftener alone. For it so and a fine, manly fellow beside. And so I warrant
happened that the gamekeeper had a young there was billing and cooing enough at the game-
daughter, Sipelie, who was as fair as the morning, keeper's lodge, for when the prince came the game-
and as modest as she was fair; and the prince, keeper kept discreetly in the background, and


"-- "
1 .

10.A Br.t

having seen her, of course fell over head and ears Sipelie had no brothers or sisters to be in the way.

and station. As for Sipelie, having no mother to rapids, and it was not long before Orca's visits to

R. ...,. IN

having seen her, of course fell over head and ears Sipelie had no brothers or sisters to be in the way.
in love with her, forg-etting all differences of wealth But the course of true love is never without its
and station. As for Sipelie, having no mother to rapids, and it was not long before OGca's visits to
tell her better, although she tool good care to wait Sipelie begin to be talked about among the nobles.
a modest while before showing it, she gave away So at last the news came to the cars of the Lady
her whole heart to him. Nor was this so much to Ildea, the prime minister's daughter, who hoped to



win Prince Orca herself. The Lady Ildea's temper
was certainly none of the best, nor was her beauty
at all to be compared with that of the gamekeeper's
daughter. She had long laid siege to the heart of
the prince, and she was now convinced that it was
only on account of the peasant maiden that she
made so little progress.
The Lady Ildea was not unskilled in magic, and
by consultation with divers not very respectable
spirits, she found means to transform the beautiful
Sipelie into a raven. Thus it happened that when
the prince went as usual to visit his beloved, he
found the cottage empty, and no living thing in
sight but a raven, which croaked dolorously from
a neighboring tree. When the gamekeeper ap-
peared, in answer to Prince Orca's eager questions,
he could only say that his daughter was missing.
Together, the two men searched the whole night
for the lost maiden; but neither then, nor in any
after search, could a trace of Sipelie be discovered.
It is needless to speak of the gamekeeper's grief,
or the prince's despair. Both refused to be com-
forted, and the unhappy prince became so pale and
thin that it was pitiful to see.
In all his grief and anguish, the Lady Ildea
showed a deep sympathy, encouraging him to tell
her all his woes, and if she could not comfort him,
she at least wept for him, and that was something.
And so it went on until the prince was taken
violently ill. The wise men gathered about his
bed, and at last concluded, after many long and
tedious days of consultation, that his sickness was
caused by an evil influence, which they ascribed to
a raven that had been noticed fluttering continu-
ally about the palace windows. They farther an-
nounced that the prince could only be cured by
the juice of certain wild herbs, which were exceed-
ingly rare, and which only grew in wild and dan-
gerous places in the mountains. Messengers were
dispatched throughout the whole country in search
of the precious herbs, but the third day a bundle
of the plants was found on the ledge of the prince's
window. No one knew whence they came, nor
did any one notice that the raven sat on a dis-
tant tree, and watched until the herbs were taken
in, but then flew silently away, to return no more.
The prince now rapidly recovered, and was soon
able to go again into the open air. The lady Ildea
had been most attentive throughout his illness, and
on the first day on which he went to the hunt, she
rode by his side. She was outwardly calm enough,
but inwardly she was not at all at ease. Only one
day remained of the duration of the magic spell
which ensnared Sipelie, and Prince Orca had not yet
forgotten the peasant maiden, or bound himself to
Ildea. As they followed the hounds through the
pleasant forest, the sharp eyes of the lady espied a

raven fluttering along from branch to branch, always
keeping near the prince.
She pointed it out to her companion, saying,
" Do you see the bird of ill omen ? It is the same
which brought you illness. Now is your time to
destroy it."
Prince Orca raised his bow, but lowered it again,
for something within stayed his hand, and he said:
" Let the poor blackamoor live. I have been too
near death myself to feel like harming it."
If you do not care for yourself," said Lady
Ildea, others do. It might bring you harm
again." And with unerring aim she sent an arrow
flying through the air. The raven fell, uttering a
last mournful cry. But Lady Ildea was not satis-
fied. Hastily dismounting, she ran through the
grass to where the bird lay, and found the body of
the maiden Sipelie, pierced to the heart, and cov-
ered with blood. Horror-struck, she turned away,
but at that instant she trod upon an adder, which
suddenly darted its fangs into her foot, inflicting a
mortal wound.

"And served her right," quoth King Jollimon,
as the crooked-backed man ended. "The prince
is left to bury the dead, I suppose. Well, I've
heard worse tales, I'm sorry to say; but I generally
hear better ones. What have you to tell ?" he
added, nodding to the man with the crooked nose.
Mine is a fable, and very instructive," said he;
And the moral- "
Moral me no morals," interrupted King Jolli-
mon. Tell your fable, if you please; but I '11
draw my own moral as mild as I please."
Thus admonished, he of the crooked nose told
the tale of

A certain cat set out to seek his fortune, and
traveled through the whole world. At last he came
to a country where a cat had never been seen be-
fore. The inhabitants were at first frightened by
the strange monster,,but having observed Puss
killing the mice with which the country was over-
run, they plucked up courage, and approaching
him, requested that he should follow them before
the king. Puss complied willingly enough, and
the end of the matter was that he was installed
rat-catcher to the king, and a large salary bestowed
upon him. The faithfulness with which Puss dis-
charged his duties raised him high in the royal
regard, and a circumstance soon occurred which
advanced him still further. The king took his
naps by an open window, and had a plate of cher-
ries placed beside him that he might eat them
when he awoke. A crow from the neighboring
forest constantly stole the fruit, nor had all the



efforts of the king's servants succeeded in destroy-
ing the bird. The cat, however, concealed himself
in the window-hangings, and pounced upon the
unlucky marauder, and broke his neck. The king
was full of gratitude, and ordered that Puss's salary
be increased. Soon after, a bear came and ravaged
the king's flocks. His majesty commanded Puss
to kill him. I can only do what I am able,"
pleaded the cat; but the king insisted. While
Puss was coming, Bruin attacked the store of a
swarm of bees, and was stung to death. "You
have done as I knew you would, my dear cat," said
the king, and would listen to no explanations. The
cat received the Order of the Royal Shoe-string.
Next an elephant came and ravaged the crops.
The king sent the cat to attack him. Alas! I
can only do what I am able," again pleaded the cat,
but there was no moving the king. While the cat
was coming, the elephant fell into a pit and was
You have done as I knew you would," said the
king once more; and the cat received the Order
of the Royal Penknife, and the care of the Royal
A great army marched to subdue the kingdom.
The king gave himself no uneasiness. Have we
not the cat here?" he asked. My dear, go and
put these troublesome fellows to flight."
Alas your majesty," said the unfortunate cat,
I can but do as I am able, and luck will turn at
last;" but the king was stubborn as ever. And
while the cat was coming, a band of the enemy fell
upon him and destroyed him; and they overthrew
all the kingdom. The king was taken prisoner
and compelled to feed cats all his life. That un-
grateful cat! he continually exclaimed.

"And do you call that a fable ?" asked King
Jollimon. I should have let you tell the moral,
that there might have been some good to it. Come,
you fellow," he said to the crooked-mouthed man,
speak quickly. I long to hear another tale, that
I may forget this."
And this tale was that of

Hans and Peter met one fine morning on the
way to market. Hans was large and stout; the
world always went easily with him; he troubled
himself as little as possible about the cares of life,
and seemed to grow plumper every day.
Peter, on the other hand, was thin and slim.
He was continually worrying himself about some
trifle, and his face grew more and more care-worn
every day.
Good morrow, friend Peter," said plump Hans,
in a hearty tone of cheer.

Good-day, neighbor answered Peter, sol-
Why are you so downcast ?" asked Hans.
Downcast! Have you no troubles," retorted
Peter, that you cannot understand why people
look downcast ?"
I ?" said jovial Hans. I 've only one trouble
in the world, and that does not trouble me. My
wife complains because I have become so stout."
Happy man !" exclaimed Peter. My friends
complain because I am so thin."
My friends say it makes me move too slowly,"
said Hans.
"My wife upbraids me," returned Peter, "be-
cause I move so very quickly."
Suppose we change bodies !" said they both in
a breath. And they changed.
Again, in a few months, Hans and Peter met
one fine morning; and Hans was again large and
stout, while Peter had become thin and slim.
"What have you done to my body?" asked Hans.
"What have you done to my body?" asked
I was puzzled at first," said Hans, to know
whether I was Hans or Peter; but it soon came
At first," returned Peter, I knew not whether
I was Peter or Hans, but as you say, it soon came
Then the difference," remarked Hans, "is not
my body."
Nor my body," put in Peter.
But," said they both, ourselves !"

Worse and worse," said King Jollimon, at the
conclusion of the remarkable legend. If there
were four of you, I shudder to think what a bad
story the fourth one would tell!"
It is because we did not know your majesty's
taste," said the man with the crooked back. If
you would hear us once more, we should please
you better."
' "I have heard enough," said the king; but
upon second thought he consented that they should
try again.
And first the crooked-backed man told the tale of

A boy once met a magician, who gave him an
egg-shell, telling him to place it in his mouth, but
on no account to break it. The boy was as foolish
as boys usually are, so he instantly obeyed him,
without at all stopping to think what the conse-
quences might be. Immediately his head swelled
up like an enormous balloon, so that the wind
nearly blew him away. He managed to catch hold
of a post and save himself from this fate, and a




crowd began to gather around his head. His body
was quite out of sight underneath, and only the
huge head was to be seen.
As everybody stood staring at the wonderful
sight, a fly lit on the boy's cheek. He could not
reach it himself, for his arms would not reach a
tenth part of the way to his chin; so he asked one
,of the bystanders to kill the troublesome insect.
The boy's voice was so smothered by the egg-shell
that it was long before he could make himself un-
derstood; but at last the man got an idea of what
was wanted, and aimed a severe blow at the fly.
The insect flew away unharmed, but the boy started
so suddenly that he bit the egg-shell in two, and
his head collapsed to its natural size. So there was
a little boy in the middle of the place, holding on
by a post, and a crowd of people looking at him
from a distance.
"What a disappointment!" said the boy's
mother. He was fast becoming remarkable But
then, what a sum his hats would have cost After
all, it is best as it is."
And besides," added a neighbor, how could
you have got at him to punish him ?"
To be sure answered the mother.

This is better than the first, because it is
shorter," said the king; and the man with a crooked
nose began the story of

There was once a man," he said, with a nose
-so long that it reached half way round his head,
and thus the point was continually behind him.

This not unnaturally caused him a great deal of
trouble, but in the end was the means of his good
fortune, as you shall hear. For once, as he sat
reading, he felt something on the end of his nose,
and turning round his head he saw a fly sitting on
the point of it."
Saw a fly on the point !" interrupted King
Jollimon. What do you take me for, that you
thus try to impose such stories on me ? Can a man
see what is behind him ? "
Certainly, if he turns round," answered the
traveler, quite unmoved.
If he turns round !" repeated the king, in a
rage, can one see the back of his head ? I have
turned round, but I never could see my back."
That is because your majesty always looks
away from it," replied the other. If you would
turn round and look toward the back of your head,
you would undoubtedly see it."
Do you presume to dispute with me ? screamed
his majesty, getting very red in the face. He felt
sure he was right, but he could not answer the
traveler's argument. Do you presume to dispute
with me?" he repeated. Get out of my sight,
and if one of you three vagabonds, with your trump-
ery stories, is found in all the kingdom of Jolliland
by sunset to-morrow, I '11 have every man of you
beheaded three times over. A man see his back,
indeed !"
And thus it happened that the tale of The
Crooked-Nosed Philosopher" was never concluded,
which was the greater pity, since, if the end was
like the beginning, it must have been a very mar-
velous tale.



WHEN I look at pictures of people of old times,
I often think what a curious thing it is that the
only apparent difference between them and the
people of the present day is to be seen in their
If we could take a dozen or so of ancient Greeks
and Romans; some gentlemen and ladies of the
middle ages; a party of our great-grandfathers
and mothers, and some nice people who are now
living in the next street, and were to dress all the
women in calico frocks and sun-bonnets, and all
the men in linen coats and trousers and broad

straw hats, with their hair cut short; and were
then to jumble them all up together, and make
them keep their tongues quiet, it would be very
difficult, if not impossible, for a committee, unac-
quainted with any of the party, to pick out the
ancients, the middle-agers, or the moderns.
Lady Jane Grey, or Cornelia, the mother of the
Gracchi, or Helen of Troy, would not look unlike
the other women in sun-bonnets and calico frocks;
and while there would be a greater difference in
the men, whose nationality might show more
strongly, Christopher Columbus, Nero, and Marco


Bozzaris would be pretty much the same kind of
fellows as the other men of the party.
It is certainly a fact that there are a great many
more points of strong resemblance between the
people of past ages and ourselves than most of us
suppose. It is often very surprising, when reading
of the domestic life of the past, to see how precisely
similar, in some respects, it was to our own. And,
as I have said, the people looked, with the excep-
tion of their clothes, very much as we do-mean-
ing by we the people of the present day, all over
the world.
In 1876, at the Centennial Exposition, I saw
a marble bust-life size-which was a portrait
of a lady of ancient Rome. There was only the
head and neck, the -hair was dressed very plainly,
and it was astonishing how well that bust would
have answered for the portrait of a lady of Thirty-
fourth street, New York, or the wife of a gentleman
in Springfield, Ohio. The head and face were just
such a head and face as I had often seen, and the
countenance even seemed familiar to me.
But dress makes all the difference in the world.
Had I met that lady attired in her flowing Roman
garments, with her golden head-dress and her san-
daled feet, I should have had no thought of Thirty-
fourth street, or Springfield, Ohio.
And so down the whole line of ages you can tell,
pretty nearly, when a man or a woman lived, if you
can but get an idea of his or her clothes.
The next thing which strikes most of us when
looking at the pictures of old-time people, is a feel-
ing of wonder how they ever could have been will-
ing to make such scarecrows of themselves.
To be sure, we are willing to admire the flowing
robes of Greece and Rome, although we feel quite
sure that our style of dress is much more sensible,
and we have an admiration for a soldier clad in
armor, as well as for the noblemen and gentry who
figured, some hundreds of years ago, in their splen-
did velvets and laces, their feathers and cocked
hats, and their diamond-hilted swords.
But, as a rule, the garments of our ancestors
appear very ridiculous to us. If we did not have
good reasons for belief to the contrary, we should
be very apt to consider them a set of fools.
It even seems a little wonderful that people
should be able to invent such curious fashions of
dressing themselves.
Think, for instance, of the wife of Jean Van
Eyck, a celebrated old Dutch painter, who was
willing to dress her hair so that she looked like a
cat, and, moreover, had her portrait taken in that
style, so that future generations might see what a
guy she was I
Yes, the picture painted over five hundred years
ago hangs to-day in the Academy of Bruges, and

the staidest little Belgians laugh when they look at
it. You may see it yourselves some day, but, if
not, you can at least enjoy this excellent copy,
which has been engraved for ST. NICHOLAS from
a photograph of the painting. If you look at
her face, you will see that in feature she is very
much like an ordinary woman of the present day.
There is nothing at all distinctive about her coun-
tenance. As far as that is concerned, she might
just as well have lived now as at any other time.
But if she were to appear in an ordinary evening
company dressed in the style in which you see her

in the picture, the difference between her and the
other ladies would be very striking, to say the least.
The curious methods of dress in olden times were
so many, and were of such infinite variety, that I
cannot even allude to them in a little article like
this; but you cannot look at very many pictures
of the people of by-gone days without seeing some
costume which will appear quite funny, if not abso-
lutely absurd.
You need not go very far back either. What
could be queerer than the high coat-collars of some
of your great-grandfathers, which came up under
their ears, while their throats were wrapped in fold
after fold of long cravats-or else encircled by a
hard, stiff stock,-and the hind-buttons of their
coats were away up in the middle of their backs !
But perhaps your great-grandmothers, with the




waists of their gowns just under their arms, with
their funny long mittens and their great calash
bonnets, were just as queer as their husbands.
Now the question comes very naturally to us:
Why did these people, as well as the people who
came before them, dress in such ridiculous fashions ?
We know that many of them were very sensible
folk, who knew how to do many things as well as
we can do them, and some things a great deal bet-
ter. Mentally and physically the most of them are
not surpassed by the people who live now. Then
why did not they know enough to dress sensibly
and becomingly as we do ?
In reply to this I will say that your great-grand-
father and your great-grandmother, unless they
belonged to some religious sect which regulated
the clothes of its members, would have dressed ex-
actly as your father and mother now do, if it had
been the fashion in their day.
And if you had seen their portraits, dressed in
clothes of the present day (which, had those old
people worn them, would have been out of fashion
long before you were born), you would have thought
they looked perfectly ridiculous.
The truth of the matter is, that with a great
many of us the attractive and desirable qualities of
clothes depend entirely upon their relations to the
current styles or fashions. We think everything
unbecoming and ugly excepting those styles; and
no matter how absurd the present fashion may be,

there are not ten persons out of a thousand who,
when they become used to them, do not admire
them and follow them to the extent of their ability.
There are few of you who are not old enough to
remember fashions of dress, which at one time you
and every one else considered very stylish and be-
coming, and which now would make a perfect
fright of any one who would be bold enough to
wear them.
Indeed, were a fine lady to make her appearance
in the streets of one of our large cities dressed in the
hoops and wide skirts in which she was so fashion-
able and attractive a few years ago, the street boys
would hoot her, and she might walk about all day
without meeting a single person who would think
that there was anything whatever to be said in
favor of such a costume.
Of course, some fashions are uglier and more
absurd than others, and it is not strange that we
wonder how sensible people could have endured
them; but if these very styles were to become
fashionable again, most of us would adopt them.
If, in a few years, it should become the fashion
for ladies to dress their hair like that of the good
wife of Jean Van Eyck, I feel quite certain that
nearly all the fashionable ladies you know would go
about looking very much like cats. This may seem
a libelous assertion ; but if you will keep a watch
on the fashions, I think you will find I am correct,
provided the Van Eyck style comes up.



I HATE my geography lesson !
It's nothing but nonsense and names;
To bother me so every morning,
It's really the greatest of shames.

The brooks, they flow into the rivers,
And the rivers flow into the sea;
I hope, for my part, they enjoy it,
But what does it matter to me?

Of late, even more I've disliked it,
And more disagreeable it seems,
Ever since the sad evening last winter,
When I had that most frightful of dreams.

I thought that a great horrid monster
Stood suddenly there in my room-
A frightful Geography Demon,
Enveloped in darkness and gloom;

His body and head like a mountain,
A volcano on top for a hat;
His arms and his legs were like rivers,
With a brook round his neck for cravat.

He laid on my poor trembling shoulder
His fingers, cold, clammy and long;
And fixing his red eyes upon me,
He roared forth this horrible song:




" Come come I rise and come
Away to the banks of the Muskingum !
It flows o'er the plains of Timbuctoo,
With the peak of Teneriffe just in view.
And the cataracts leap in the pale moonshine,
As they dance o'er the cliffs of Brandywine.

" Flee flee rise and flee
Away to the banks of the Tombigbee !
We'll pass by Alaska's flowery strand,
Where the emerald towers of Pekin stand;
We'll pass them by, and will rest awhile
On Michillimackinac's tropic isle;
While the apes of Barbary frisk around,
And the parrots crow with a lovely sound.

" Hie hie! rise and hie
Away to the banks of the Yang-tze-ki!
There the giant mountains of Oshkosh stand,
And the icebergs gleam through the falling sand;
While the elephant sits on the palm-tree high,
And the cannibals feast on bad-boy pie.

" Go go rise and go
Away to the banks of the Hoang-ho

There the Chickasaw sachem makes his tea,
And the kettle boils and waits for thee.
We'll smite thee, ho and we'll lay thee low,
On the beautiful banks of the Hoang-ho!"

These terrible words were still sounding
Like trumpets and drums through my head,
When the monster clutched tighter my shoulder,
And dragged me half out of the bed.

In terror, I clung to the bed-post;
But the faithless bed-post, it broke.
I screamed out aloud in my anguish,
And suddenly-well, I awoke.

He was gone. But I cannot forget him,
The fearful Geography Sprite.
He has my first thought in the morning,
He has my last shudder at night.

Do you blame me for hating my lesson?
Is it strange that it frightful should seem ?
Or that I more and more should abhor it
Since I had that most horrible dream?



WHEN I reached the crowd of monkeys who
were making such a noise and were evidently in
such trouble, I soon saw what was the matter. A
very large monkey had his claws fastened in the
back of a much smaller one, and was biting him in
the shoulder-the 'little fellow shrieking, and the
others dreadfully excited, yet hesitating to come to
the rescue.
What are monkeys compared to a man ? I rushed
in, seized the ruffian by the throat, which loosened
his hold upon the weaker party, and hurling him
with all my force against the ground, broke his
ugly skull upon the rock on which it struck.
Then, ::uch a yell of delight as went up from
that motley monkey crew It was simply in-
describable. This was immediately followed by an
immense amount of jabbering, as they gathered in
little groups, no doubt discussing the merits of the
action and the valor of the hero. Doubtless the
monkey I had slain was a great tyrant over the

others, by reason of his superior size and strength,
and they were congratulating one another upon
their deliverance from his hated rule.
His last victim-poor little fellow --I raised from
the ground, washed his wounds, and, gathering
some plantain-leaves, placed them carefully over
the lacerated flesh, and bound them on snugly and
firmly with strips of palm-leaf.
The little creature looked at me very affection-
ately, evincing by his expression the deepest grati-
As he was in a very sad plight indeed, I nursed
and petted him until quite late in the afternoon,
his companions not far off observing my move-
ments with great interest. At last I said to the
wounded monkey:
Now, little fellow, go your way in peace. Take
care of yourself, and you will get well. Good-
bye !"
I took my basket and started up the hill. Occa-
sionally I looked back to see what he was doing,



and each time his gaze was fixed on me; and when
I had entirely lost sight of him, I began to regret
that I had not taken him with me and cared for
him until he should get well.
Pippity, as I returned, was overjoyed to see me.
He had certainly grown anxious at my long ab-
Pippity," I said, I shall not go down again
into the valley for a long time. We have had
cocoa-nuts enough lately; let us enjoy that which
is around us."
But, after a couple of months had passed away,
knowing that Pippity was very fond of the cocoa-
nuts (and I, too, liked very much the milk they
contained), I determined to go and get some more.
I was getting the nuts down from the trees as
best I could, when, all at once, I was surprised at
their falling around me fast and thick, and on look-
ing up, there was a little monkey throwing them
down At first, I thought he was throwing them
at me; but he stopped when he saw me looking
up, and I went on gathering and putting them in
the basket. Not one of them that had been thrown
down had hit me, so I concluded that the monkey
had no evil design, but that, on the contrary, he
was trying to do me a good turn.
"That's a pretty good sort of monkey," I
thought, and I would n't mind meeting him any
time I come down. He has saved me to-day con-
siderable trouble."
Then, up the mountain I went, and got back
home quite early, which seemed to surprise Pippity
not a little.
The next time I went down, the same thing hap-
pened again ; and so on for a number of times.
Once, after taking up my basket and starting for
home, I noticed a little monkey (I thought it was
the very one that had so kindly thrown me the
cocoa-nuts) following me at some distance. The
next trip I made, this occurred again, and this time
the monkey kept following me nearer and nearer,
until, finally, I heard at my heels a slight squeal,
,and on looking around there was the little creature.
Why, monkey I exclaimed, what in the
world do you want ? "
He stood there, trembling somewhat, I thought;
but quickly he leaped on my back, and put his
arms around my neck. I was a little frightened,
at first; but, taking hold of his hands, I gently
loosened his hold and brought him around in front
of me, when, holding him out to view, I saw a scar
on his shoulder.
Oh it's you, is it?" I cried. Then it's you
who have been throwing me the cocoa-nuts all this
time. It's plain you have n't forgotten a favor."
I set him on the ground. Go, join your com-
rades, and, whenever you feel disposed to throw

me cocoa-nuts, I shall always accept the kindness
as a very great favor."
But monkey would n't go and join his comrades,
and persisted in following me. I did not want to
speak unkind words or use harsh measures toward
him, although I tried everything I could think of
to induce him to leave me; but all my efforts to
get rid of him failed. He followed me home.
Pippity was a little surprised to see two individuals
instead of one approaching, and eyed the stranger
with much curiosity.
After we had partaken of refreshments, I ad-
dressed our guest in the following words :
Monkey, since you have followed me, and
seem inclined to join our society, I shall not object
to your remaining, provided you behave yourself
properly; and I have no doubt that my worthy
friend to whom I have lad the high honor of intro-
ducing you, will heartily second me in any effort
looking toward your comfort and general well-
being. You may make this your home, if it so
pleases you. If you want to leave us to-morrow, go.
If you would like to remain with us until death
shall us three part, you are welcome."
I was curious to see how Pippity would treat the
new-comer. It was to be expected that he would
show some signs of jealousy, but his was a noble
nature, and scorned to descend to such mean con-
duct. He and the monkey were almost immedi-
ately on the best of terms, at which I was much
pleased, for I would not for a moment have endured
any quarreling in my household.
When our cocoa-nuts were nearly all gone, I
went down for some more. It was not long after
this that, one fine day, the monkey was missing.
Neither did he come back the next day. About
noon, I said to Pippity :
Pippity, we have but few cocoa-nuts left. To-
morrow I shall go down and get another supply;
and who knows but I may meet our friend the
monkey ? Although he was at any time at liberty
to leave us if he liked, yet I confess I have a desire
to know what has become of him. Perhaps some
accident has befallen him."
While I was yet speaking, a cocoa-nut rolled into
our house.
Why, what's that ? I exclaimed; and, look-
ing out, there was the little monkey, just without
the entrance, in the very act of throwing a cocoa-
nut into the cavern Going toward him, I saw
him catch one thrown to him by another monkey.
Now, here was a most singular performance,
and one which certainly demanded investigation.
Where did the second monkey get his cocoa-nut ?
I went toward him, and found that he caught a
cocoa-nut thrown to him by a third monkey about
fifteen feet beyond him.



As the nuts kept coming all the time, the sight
was highly interesting.
To ascertain the true state of the case I went
farther; found a fourth monkey, then a fifth, then
a sixth; and as I proceeded I left one monkey only
to find another farther on, all about fifteen feet one
from the other, some perched on rocks, some on
trees, forming a zigzag line down the mountain,
all busily catching and throwing the cocoa-nuts in
the most remarkably systematic fashion. There
must have been sixty monkeys or more engaged in
this delightful occupation.
I went back and found a large pile of the fruit
in our house; and thinking we had enough for a
long time to come, I would have liked to be able
to make our little monkey understand that we
wanted no more. The parrot had learned to dis-
cover my wishes very well, but with the monkey I
supposed it would be a matter of some difficulty to
make him comprehend me. He seemed to divine
my thoughts, however, or else his own good sense
came to his aid, for, almost immediately, he gave
a little shriek, which the next monkey took up, and
which went along the line until the sounds died
away in the distance. After this a few more nuts
rolled into the house, then the throwing and catch-
ing ceased, and the monkeys which had been in
sight disappeared, with the exception of our little
friend, who sprang, all elasticity and animation,
into our domicile.
Now, come, my little friend, sit up and have
something to eat," I said. You must be hungry
after the expenditure of so much energy. We had
given you up for lost; but now, after this evidence
of your good-will toward us, we are satisfied that
you really intend to remain with us."
I wished the monkey was able to relate to us how
he managed to assemble so many of his friends,
and to get them to act with such perfect accord;
and how, in the first place, he could make them
understand what he wished them to do. Of course,
not being able to talk, he could give us no explana-
tion of how the thing was brought about. I could
therefore only form an opinion in the matter,
which was as follows:
Our little friend was undoubtedly a great favorite
with his fellows, and although he was as gentle as
a kitten he was not without power, and his com-
panions were ever ready to serve him out of sheer
good-will. When, therefore, after he had been res-
cued from the ferocious monkey, his appreciation of
a kind action naturally enkindled in him a desire to
return the favor in some way, he threw me the
cocoa-nuts from the trees; and, although I believe
that from the first he felt an ardent desire to be
near his benefactor, his natural modesty prevented
his thrusting himself upon me without considerable

preliminary skirmishing. His fellow monkeys,
keenly sensible of his noble qualities, and happy in
having got rid of the odious despot who had so
long oppressed them, were bnly too glad to aid him
in any reasonable and honorable project which
might benefit the hero who had slain their hated
ruler. But by what queer signs and by what sort
of jabbering our little monkey had made his
wishes known to his companions, only he and they
I now took occasion to tell our four-handed friend
that he must have a name.
Grilly' you shall be called," I said; and,
although you cannot utter our names, common
politeness requires that you be informed of them.
There is Pippity, the parrot, and here am I, Frank,
the man."
As Pippity was a good scholar, while Grilly yet
remained uneducated, it was a source of grief to
me that the monkey continued in his deplorable
ignorance in the midst of such enlightened society.
What was to be done ?
Talk he could not. There was not the slightest
use in making any effort in that direction, because
nature had failed to furnish him with the organs
needed for speaking articulately.
I had noticed frequently, when going down into
the valley, a certain rock which fell in pieces by
splitting off in smooth plates; and another kind
which lay scattered about in small fragments that
would make marks like chalk-marks. This sub-
stance was of a reddish color, and, on the purplish
surface of the thin slabs of the harder rock, it
made very clear, distinct lines.
On one of these slabs I wrote the alphabet in
large letters, and began by teaching Pippity his
A B C's. The next step was to instruct Grilly how
to hold the pencil. Taking his hand in mine, I
guided it in making the letters. He was rather
slow at first in comprehending the science or ac-
quiring the knack of tracing the letters; but con-
tinued application will accomplish wonders even
with a monkey; and in a few weeks' time Grilly
would make any letter at command. I got Pippity
to call out the alphabet while Grilly wrote. Thus
they taught each other-Pippity addressing the
monkey's ear, and Grilly appealing to the parrot's
After they were thus well grounded in the alpha-
bet, I made them spell short and familiar words.
I would spell the words to Pippity, and he would
repeat them in a loud, clear voice to Grilly, whose
province of course it was to write them in a bold,
legible hand, whilst the parrot kept his eye sharply
on the writing; and if, perchance, the monkey
should make a mistake, it was expected of him to
call out immediately-" Error !"



As Pippity had a great many phrases and a vast
number of nouns at command, and began pretty
rapidly to comprehend the science of English or-
thography, he was soon able to give out the words
to Grilly without my help; though he did make
some funny mistakes, for which, however, the poor

we found in our dominions. The two agreed very
well, and the one furnished what the other lacked.
The parrot could talk but not write ; the monkey
could write but not talk.
But it occurs to me that two such extraordinary
characters deserve description.

t- I

bird was in no way responsible, but which made First come, first served. The external appear-
me laugh at him nevertheless, ance of Pippity was gorgeous in the extreme. His
It may seem strange to some that a monkey wings, green, red-spotted, were tipped with golden
could be taught to write. With such persons I yellow, while the most delicate flush of iridescent
will hold no argument. All I have to say is: Get colors suffused his back, neck and breast; his toes
a monkey, and try it. in pairs, two forward and two back, like those of
Grilly as well as Pippity became in course of all other parrots; a bill and tongue exactly formed
time quite a fine scholar, and he, too, learned the for speech ; eyes in observation keen; and a bear-
names of the plants and many other objects which ing dignified and commanding.
VOL. V.-I5.



Grilly, of course, had not so gay an exterior; yet
he had a handsome clothing of soft, fine hair; a
gentle, intelligent eye; a head exceedingly well
formed, round and full, with prominent forehead;
handsome moustache and full stylish whiskers; an
expression winning and full of animation; a car-
riage elegant and graceful; and, withal, he was
astonishingly expert with tail and hands and feet.
The time now coursed smoothly and happily
along, Pippity entertaining us with his lively prattle,
and Grilly, full of his antics and his learning,
affording a never-failing fund of amusement. Nor
did he ever omit, when the supply of cocoa-nuts
was about exhausted, to go down and assemble his
tribe, who forthwith took their places up the height,
passed the nuts one to another, and, when they
deemed we had enough, dispersed to their own
wild homes of sylvan shade.
One day Grilly was amusing himself turning
over some stones that lay in a little heap in one
corner of our vast chamber. I had always thought
it strange that they were the only loose stones to be
found either in the'cavern or in the neighborhood,
but had never troubled myself any further about
them. Seeing Grilly busy with them, I thought I
would join him in his work or sport, and in a little
time we had the pile reduced to the floor. There,
I saw, was a square slab, having on it certain char-
acters and a drawing of a serpent held firmly in
the talons of a condor. These symbols excited my
curiosity not a little, and I noticed that the stone,
which was about three feet square, was loosely rest-
ing in its place. I managed to pry it up, and
found a dark cavity beneath. It was nearly square,
but of its depth I could not judge, owing to the
darkness. To satisfy myself on this point, I got a
very long stem of one of those gigantic grasses that
grow in the tropics, and, letting it down, found the
hole to be about forty feet deep. I felt a great
desire to descend into this pit, but dared not venture
for fear of the foul and deadly air that might have
to be encountered below. Such things as matches,
of course, we had not, nor any fire whatever.
I therefore delayed the experiment for several
days, with the expectation that the air would im-
prove considerably in that time. Then, by bracing
my hands and feet against the sides, I descended
slowly, and found the air good enough to breathe
freely, which emboldened me to go to the bottom.
There was just light enough to perceive that on
one side was an opening about six feet in height,

and somewhat more than a foot in width; and I
could see rough steps leading down a slight de-
scent. I followed them cautiously, until I came to
a level place, which I found to be a passage about
three feet wide and higher than I could reach.
It was so dark here that I could no longer see,
when, feeling the rock on either side, I came to a
place where there was a recess about three feet
above the floor of the passage. Raising myself
into this recess, I found it to be about four feet in
height. This led back a considerable distance,-
how far I never discovered,-and as I was groping
about, being obliged to stoop all the time, I stum-
bled over something that rolled and rattled like a
bone. I felt for it, and found it to be one, and
with it were a number of others. As far as I
could judge in the darkness, they were the skeleton
of a human being.
How came these there ? Was this a tomb ?
I felt about for more relics, going hither and
thither in the earnestness of quest, but found no
I had now been in this dungeon upward of an
hour, and felt inclined to return as speedily as pos-
sible to the daylight. I searched for the place
where I had got up from the narrow passage. I
groped this way and that; and this had to be done
with precaution, for who could tell where I might
not step off suddenly and fall to some great depth?
Yet I could find nothing that promised to lead me
to the passage by which I had come.
Where was I? What was I to do? Remaining
still would never do; to keep moving, moving, was
the only course to pursue. I had, I knew not how,
emerged from that low-roofed recess, and stood
now in what seemed to be a vast chamber where
there were neither sides nor roof. I hallooed that
I might hear the echo from its walls, and perhaps
in that way find them. I was startled, almost
frightened, at the solemn mocking sounds that
reverberated through the lonely cavern. I grew
fearful of my own voice.
At last I sank down exhausted, and slept. I
awoke, and groped about once more. This oc-
curred again and again. How often I lay down to
sleep I cannot tell. Sometimes I thought of the
skeleton I had stumbled over, and wondered if my
bones, too, would here find their resting-place.
Then I thought of the grand, lofty mountain over-
head. What a stupendous monument But what
would I not have given for deliverance from it!

(To be continued.)






THE sport of sailing on the ice has within a few hour with a good wind Some large ones, strange
years attracted considerable attention on our north- as it may seem, can sail, with a wind on the beam,
ern rivers and lakes, and seems likely to increase. actually faster than the wind which is blowing. This
It is an amusement well adapted to big boys, being fact is attested by the highest scientific authorities.

exciting, requiring skill, and certainly not more Having seen some unsuccessful attempts at ice-
dangerous than skating. It is even more fasci- boats by boys in various places, I propose to tell
nating than yachting, without the danger which you how to build one, at a small expense, that will
always attends the latter pursuit. A small ice-boat sail well, and give you a great deal of sport.
that a boy can build will sail ten to twenty miles an The directions and measurements here given are




the result of careful experiments and some failures.
Fig. I is an elevation, Fig. 2 a ground-plan of the
frame, and Fig. 3 a section of a runner. Get
a spruce plank, A, 12 feet long, 6 inches wide, 2
inches thick. This is the backbone of the struct-

ure. Cut near one end of it a hole two inches
square to receive.the foot of the mast.
Take two oak cross-bars, E E, 8 feet long, 4 inches
deep, 2 inches thick. The cross-bars are bolted
to A, one foot apart, the forward one a foot from
mast-hole. This distance is best.
Next get one oak plank, C, 16 inches long, 3
inches deep, 2 inches thick.
The hard-wood piece, D, is for tiller, 4 feet long,
2 inches wide, I inch thick. This is to be set into
the top of plank c, and fastened there with screws.
To each end of it is attached a rope, which runs
over a sheave fastened to the cross-bar. c D, and
the ropes, I 1, constitute the steering apparatus.
Two boards, F F, each 1 feet long, 8 inches wide,
N-inch thick, are planed, and the edges matched
together, at the stern. They are nailed to the
plank, A, and the cross-bars, E E, as shown in Fig.
2. Four blocks, each 3 inches thick, must be put
under them where they lie over the cross-bars. A
board a foot long, 7-inch thick, must also be put
under F F at the stern.
Six slats, G G, as long as may be needed, 2
inches wide, Y-inch thick, are nailed over A, and
under F F.

The mast is a natural spruce stick, 13 feet long,
shaved down to 3Y inches at butt, 2y inches at
the top.
The boom is 13Y feet long, 2 inches thick at each
end, and a little thicker in the middle. It is fast-

FIG. 2.

ened to the mast by an iron eye, screwed into the
mast, and a hook in the end of the boom. The
sprit is Io feet long, I inches diameter, shaved
to 3-inch for 2 inches at each end.
The iron collar, i, through which the mast is
inserted loosely, stands two feet above the top of
plank, A. It is supported by three iron braces, Ih
h, and is bolted to the tops of them. The braces
are Y-inch round iron, and bolted to the frame as
The hind-runner block, c, is fastened to A by a
strong iron, m, as shown in Fig. I. It allows the
runner to rock up and Top of
down, and to be turned Runner.
sidewise by the tiller.
A must be plated with

iron top and bottom

where m goes through, Ice.
that the runner may not
Swobble." FIG. 3.
The construction of the runners, J J J, must be
attended to with the greatest care, as upon these,
in a great measure, will depend the success of your
boat. Get a square bar of cast steel, 6 feet long,
cut off 22 inches for third runner, and divide the


rest in halves, across. Shape two forward run-
ners and one hind one as shown in Fig. I. The
bearing surface is a right-angled edge, as shown in
Fig. 3. This sharp edge holds the ice firmly with-
out much friction. Holes are bored two inches up
into the cross-bars, near their ends, and the run-
ners driven in and fastened with rivets. After the
runners are forged, they should be finished with a
file and emery paper if not perfectly smooth. The
front turn must be long and gradual like a skate,
two-thirds the length, however, flat on the ice.
The running edges should not be too sharp. They
will project 23 or three inches below the bottom
of the wood.
For the sail get twenty yards, three-quarters of a
yard wide, of heavy drilling. The dimensions are :
Head, 5 feet; foot, 13 feet; foreleach, o1 feet;
afterleach, 143 feet. Make these measurements
on a floor, and mark the outlines with a chalk-line.
Cut the after-breadth first, and the others to match.
Lap the breadths I inch. Allow an inch all around
for a hem. The breadths should be basted before
stitching. Put two rows of stitching where the
breadths lap. Look out for puckering. Put a
narrow hem clear around the sail. Then stitch a
3-inch rope around the hem. Make a loop at
the peak to put the end of sprit into. Draw the


rope tight along the boom, and fasten it through a
hole in the end. Fasten the throat of sail tight to
the top of the mast. Cut a number of short pieces
of heavy twine, and lace the sail, at intervals of a
foot, to the boom and mast. Fasten a becket or
loop of rope at a suitable position on the mast, to
set the heel of the sprit into. Rig main-sheet over
two sheaves, as shown; it brings less strain on the
boom, and clears the skipper's head in tacking.
Make a good, large wooden cleat to belay it to.
The cost of materials will be about as follows :

Boards, plank and mast.............................. $50
Iroa work ............................................... 6.oon
Twenty yards Drilling................... .................. 275
Four single-sheave galvanized pulley-blocks at 35 c.......... 1.40
(May be omitted by using leather straps.)
R pes, etc ................... .............. .......... 85
Total..................... ............. $1 n6.o0 .

A boat built as above will sail nearly as close to
the wind as a good cat-boat. It is managed much
the same. Don't turn too short in coming about.
Jibe when you like without fear of capsizing. Your
boat will carry three persons in a light wind,-
more if it blows fresh. Rig it neatly, and try to
make a finished thing all through. Your ice-boat
will then be more than a boy's plaything, and will
be admired by old and young.

-. -I
,rj =h

3 4~



THERE once was a man with a child
Who, the neighbors said, never had smiled;
But the father said, See !
Smile in this way, like me,
And then folks will know when you've smiled."




MOST young people's Christmas commences the
night before; so did Debby's. She had just settled
down in Blanket street, and fallen into the sleep of
tired, healthy girlhood, when she was aroused by
her mother's irritable voice screaming up the stair-
Debby Debby she called. Get up quick
and help me pick these turkeys. Your father's
made up his mind to sell them dead weight, and
we've got to pick them to-night, so he can take
them to the hotel early in the morning. Do you
hear me, Debby ? "
"Yes, ma'am," answered Debby, scrambling
out of her warm nest to the square of rag carpet
before her bed.
Four minutes later she felt her way down-
stairs and opened the kitchen door into a room
filled with steam, and the peculiar smell of scalded
There 's seven to do," her mother said, bend-
ing over the brass kettle on the stove to draw from
it a dripping turkey. Yours are all scalded. Go
to work."
Debby buttoned on a large apron, seated herself
with a tin pan in her lap containing a turkey, and
then began quickly to pluck off its feathers, laying
them to dry on a religious newspaper spread on the
table beside her.
Mrs. Blanchard soon sat down at the other side
of the table, and began to pick and talk as fast as
fingers and tongue would allow.
What did possess Mr. Blanchard to change his
mind, and give them so much extra trouble, she
could not conceive; and selling them to Tate, too,
when he might have made a quarter of a cent more
a pound if he had let Morris have them. And then
those hoop-poles! He might have made she
did n't know how much if he had taken her advice,
and kept them a week longer.
As for the potatoes, they had turned out so
small, and the corn was so short in the car, that
the land only knew where the money to get them all
something to wear was to come from. Not that
she cared for dress, for had n't she worn the same
bonnet and shawl to church until she was ashamed
to show her face there ? As for the sewing society,
she was a master hand at cutting and planning,
and she could go as well as not, too, now that
Debby was quite old enough to take care of the
baby, and get the supper ready for her father and
the boys; but not a step was she going to sit next

Mrs. Williams with her black silk, and Mrs. White
with her handsome alpaca, although their hus-
bands' farms were no larger than Mr. Blanchard's;
and for the life of her she could not understand
why she should not dress as well when she worked
twice as hard as they did.
To all of which Debby listened with a sinking
heart and great sobs in her throat, wondering why
they should be such an unhappy family when every
one around them appeared so glad.
Did it really make people so happy, this Christ-
mas-day that they talked so much about in Sunday-
school? That was a beautiful hymn that they
sung last Sunday; she repeated one verse softly to
herself while the stream of her mother's talk ran on:

"Jesus is our childhood's pattern,
Day by day, like us, he grew;
He was little, weak and helpless,
Tears and smiles, like us, he knew;
And he feeleth for our sadness,
And he shareth in our gladness."

With a comforted feeling she pushed back her
hair with her feathery hand, heartily wishing that
all the people who ate their turkeys would be com-
fortable, and have clothes to wear and go to sewing
societies whenever they liked.
The clock ticked loudly, the fire died away while
Mrs. Blanchard enlarged upon the trials of her
life, and, despite the refrain in her heart-

"And he feeleth for our sadness,
And he sharcth in our gladness"--

Debby's eyes were as heavy with tears as with
sleepiness v-hen the last plump turkey lay on the
table plucked of his feathers, just as the clock was
striking eleven.
Go to bed, child, and I'11 clear up the mess,"
her mother said, when Debby sprang up and
straightened herself with a long sigh. I 'm sure
your father ought to give you something for keep-
ing out of your bed so late, when he is sleeping as
innocent as the baby this minute, I 'll warrant."
As Debby had a way of only thinking her replies,
her answer was to wash her hands at the sink and
run upstairs with joyful feet, thinking, How
sl/cdid it will be if he gives me some money;
then I can spend it at the Fair to-morrow night."
But even rose-colored visions could not keep the
weary child awake ; she was not conscious of touch-
ing the pillow, and thought of nothing until the
clock striking six awoke her to remember, with a





thrill, that it was Christmas-day,-the day of the
But there would be no presents or merry greet-
ings in her home, for she could not remember ever
hearing either father or mother wish any of the
family Merry Christmas and a little candy on
that day was among the dimmest pictures of her
"' I'1l make the fire, so that mother can sleep
a little longer," she decided, lighting her candle,
and beginning to dress with shivering alacrity.
"And I '11 be as helpful as I can all day, and
perhaps father will give me some of the turkey
With shaking fingers she kindled the wood fire,
and had the kettle boiling and the griddle heated
for the cakes, when her mother came out of the
bedroom, asking her what had wakened her so
early, and telling her to dress the baby while she
finished getting the breakfast ready.
Debby willingly brought the screaming baby out
to the fire, where she washed and dressed him,
soothing him with many motherly little airs. Sam
and Jim ran down-stairs to hover over the red-hot
stove; the father came in, bringing the pail of milk,
stamping his feet, his beard white with his frozen
breath; then they all sat down to breakfast by
candle-light, and no one would have supposed,
from their conversation, that they had ever heard
)f Christmas-day.
Immediately after breakfast Mr. Blanchard hur-
ried away to dispose of his turkeys, taking the boys
with him; Mrs. Blanchard heated the brick oven
preparatory to a morning's baking, and Debby flew
about as busily as the bee she represented, washing
dishes, making beds, peeling vegetables, and tend-
ing the baby, lightening her labor with the thought
of the money her father might possibly give her.
When it was time for him to return, she deter-
mined to keep in sight, as a kind of hint that some
of the money should be given to her; not that she
would ask him for it,-her asking were only for
favors to the boys, made in much fear and inward
shrinking; but she would just wait around and
remind him by "her presence that she had helped
pick the turkeys.
But, with no understanding of the feverish anx-
iety that filled the heart of the little maiden who
was moving briskly about the pleasant kitchen
dishing up the dinner, Mr. Blanchard threw open
the door witl a chuckle. Took every one of
them and paid the money down," he announced,
coming to the fire. Got more than I expected,
too, for his scales made them weigh more than
ours, so I gained just thirty cents."
Debby thought that her heart stopped beating
while she stood bewildered in the middle of the

floor with a dish of potatoes in her hand, waiting
to hear her father say that the extra money should
be hers; but he merely asked if dinner were ready,
and why she moved so slowly; guessed that sitting
up so late made her lazy.
All her castles built of ice-cream, candy, pin-
cushions, and fancy needle-books, fell to the ground
with a crash as she set the dish on the table, leav-
ing her with no appetite for dinner, not even for
the first pumpkin-pie of the season.
She sat at the table absently tasting the savory
pork stew, believing that no one else was ever as
miserable as she, and that she should never feel
like laughing again, when suddenly she remem-
bered that she had twenty-four cents change left
from the dollar that her father gave her to buy
school-books, and she would-yes-she would give
it to him as she was starting for the Fair, and per-
haps he would say that she might keep it.
So she was all ready to laugh when Jim asked if
the little boys in the big cities wore muzzles like the
dog he had seen in town this morning, and when
her mother asked if she would take pie, her yes"
was emphatic; for a world of trouble had rolled off
her heart, and she was her hopeful self again.
After the dinner-dishes were washed, and the
baby trotted away to dream-land, Debby stole up to
her room to look over the dress she was to wear in
the evening; as the ruffles in neck and wrists were
fresh, she found there was nothing for her to do
but brush it and lay it out on the bed. Still she
lingered with an undefined feeling that it was
Christmas-day everywhere else, and if she could
All the week, while seeing and hearing about
the presents the school-girls were making, she had
been full of vague longings to do something for
some one; but she had neither money nor material,
and was not at all sure how a present from her
would be received by her father and mother.
" Perhaps I might make a pin-ball," she thought,
beginning to search through the old chest of
drawers that stood at the foot of her bed.
In the lowest drawer were odds and ends that
she had been collecting for years, and from one
corner, carefully wrapped up, she drew a square of
black cloth in which was worked in wool a bunch
of rose-buds, pink, white and yellow, surrounded
by their green leaves. A lady who had boarded
with them the last summer had begun it for a pair
of slippers, but after making two or three mistakes
on it, had given it to Debby.
I wonder if I could make it into a cushion for
mother?" soliloquized Debby, turning it around in
her red fingers. Mrs. Williams said old flannel
was good to stuff them with, and I can bind it
with- she leaned forward and picked among




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her bunch of faded ribbons. There is nothing frosty window, and cutting the cloth in the shape
nice enough," she sighed; "but this green will of a diamond, she sewed it together like a bag,
have to do." filled it with flannel, and hurriedly stitched on the
Wrapping herself in a quilt she sat down on the faded green ribbon as a binding.
rounded top of a hair-covered trunk, close to the These rosebuds were a wonderful work of art to




Debby, and one of her great treasures; it would
have been a perfectly lovely cushion," she thought,
if the binding had only been new and the silk with
which she stitched it green instead of blue; and it
was so delightful to make presents. Next year she
would have a present for every one in the house ;
she wondered why she had never thought of it
"And He feeleth for our sadness,
And He sharcth in our gladness,"

sprang from her heart to her lips, and she hummed
it over and over all the three-quarters of an hour
that she was at work. When the cushion was fin-
ished, she held it out in different positions, trying
to decide in which it would look best when she should
present it; and then she ran down-stairs, possessed
with such a variety of feelings that she could scarcely
speak when she opened the kitchen door.
Her mother was ironing, with her back toward
her. Debby was glad that no one else was there.
I've made you a Christmas present, mother,"
she said, timidly, laying it on the ironing-board.
So that's what you have been doing in the cold
so long," her mother answered, without pausing in
her work. Miss Holmes was a beautiful hand
with her needle, and how she did fuss over that !
But you might just as well have made it some other
day ; I was in no hurry for it. Put it in my bureau-
drawer, and come and mend these blankets your
father has just brought in. He thinks that we have
so little to do that we can sew for the horses right
in the midst of everything."
So Debby laid the cushion away, glad that it had
met with no worse reception, and sat down in a cor-
ner near the stove to mend the coarse, dirty horse-
blankets. She usually disliked it exceedingly ; but
her little attempt at making Christmas presents had
so warmed her heart, and her head was so full -of
the Fair, that it did not now seem so uncongenial,
and she was really surprised when the last stitch
was taken.
You are almost as handy with your needle as
your mother," her father said, throwing the blankets
over his shoulder to carry them to the barn.
Now spring to, child, and set the table," her
mnothcr added, and I '11 rest a few minutes, for I
feel as if every bone in my body was broken."
While Debby sewed, the bright sunlight on the
green field of wheat and the brown, ridged field of
corn-stubble visible through the one large window,
had faded quickly away; and as she paused a
moment to pick some shreds off her dress and
glance out at the weather, all she could see was the
dim outline of the woods, the dark forms of the
hills rising behind them, and the cold, black wind-
clouds piled high above them all.
Tea was ready and over at last, and then Mrs.

Blanchard said, while she tried to quiet the scream-
ing baby :
Go and get ready for the Fair, child, and I will
wash the dishes. I have a dreadful sideache, and
I expect this young one will cry for an hour or two.
But every dog must have his day,' and yours will
be short enough."
With the cloud on her heart that always followed
her mother's gloomy sayings, Debby went slowly
up to her room to array herself in her last year's
blue merino. But it was a pleasant figure to look
upon that she tiptoed up to the glass to survey, and
a round rosy face, with a little frown over the right
eyebrow, that looked out at her with wistful eyes.
Drawing on hood and shawl, she went down-
stairs and stood before her father with the money
in her hand. He was seated at the table, bending
over a large account-book, with Debby's frown
deepened at the corner of his bushy eyebrow, and
his fingers in his ears to shut out the baby's cries
that reached him from the bedroom. As soon as
she caught sight of what he was doing, Debby's
hopes fell, for reckoning up the yearly expenses
always made him cross for a week.
Where are you off to now ?" he asked, glancing
up at her.
To the Fair. The boys are there to come home
with me. And here," her voice faltering, is the
change from the school-books."
Don't stay late," he replied, turning away and
dropping the precious money into his vest-pocket.
With a bursting heart, Debby stumbled out into
the windy starlight and walked rapidly along the
rough road, with her mittened fingers in her mouth
to prevent her crying aloud.
How bitterly she wished she had never heard of
the Fair She was ashamed to go back into the
house with no reason for returning, yet the thought
of attending the Fair with no money to spend was
torturing to her.
"There's Debby! Merry Christmas Ride
with us Jump in, Debby called several voices,
as a wagon full of boys and girls stopped beside
"I don't want to; I'd rather walk," answered
Debby, swallowing her sobs.
Walk, then replied Harry Williams, snap-
ping his whip. I guess you got a switch in your
stocking this morning "
Laughing thoughtlessly, the party rattled past
her, leaving her crying harder than before. But a
walk full of dread comes to an end some time, and
Debby soon found herself at the entrance to the
Slipping in behind a group of men, she stood
confused by the light and noise.
It was a grand and exciting scene to the little


country maiden, this long, low room, trimmed with
evergreens and flags, and illuminated by all the
lamps in the neighborhood.
A table extended across each of three sides of
the room. One, used for a supper-table, was filled
with people eating and drinking noisily; on another
was displayed the handiwork of the sewing society
for the past year; and the third, which appeared
the most attractive, was laden with cake, confec-
tionery, and ice-cream.
Debby rubbed her swollen eyes, and was gazing
about her in admiring astonishment, when her
neighbor, Annie Williams, shouted Merry Christ-
mas in her ear.
Oh Thank you," replied the startled Debby.
Come and take off your things," suggested
Annie. "You may put them with mine behind
the apron and necktie end of the table. Mother
tends that, you know."
Annie tucked the wraps carefully away, and then
drew Debby through the crowd over to the stove,
screened off in the corner behind the supper-table,
where the good aunties of the village were heating
their faces and spotting their Sunday dresses while
cooking oysters and making coffee for the benefit
of the church. But these ladies looked so annoyed
by seeing the girls stand around the stove that
Debby hurried away. Possibly they thought that
the church would not be benefited by Debby's
warming her fingers and toes.
Elbowing their way back, with arms clasped
around each other's waist, they encountered and
stepped on the toes of a big German boy, who con-
vulsed them by pointing down at them with both
forefingers, exclaiming: See the two craz-z-z-y !
See the two craz-z-z-y And Debby's laugh was
as light-hearted as if she could buy everything in
the room, and her mother had nineteen silk dresses.
"Now come and get some ice-cream," urged
Annie, as they were pushed toward it. I have
had three saucers, and think it is lovely. I ought
to be a judge, don't you think so ?"
Not now," .said Debby, hastily. I want to
look at the needle-books your mother made."
"It's pokey over there But I'll humor you,
because it is Christmas," laughed Annie.
So they dodged under elbows, and slipped be-
tween young men and their sweethearts, until they
reached the other end of the room, where Debby
admired pen-holders with spiders and mice on them,
cushions representing the old lady who lived in a
shoe, and needle-books made like wheelbarrows,
wondering if there had been anything at the Cen-
tennial more beautiful than these. But when a
group of girls claimed Annie's attention, she eagerly
seized the opportunity to slip away and sit on the
bench behind Mrs. Williams's table.

"Tired so soon ? inquired Mrs. Williams, kindly.
"But why did n't your mother come ? "
She did n't have-I don't mean-I mean she
did n't speak of coming," stammered Debby, with
burning cheeks.
Never mind," replied Mrs. Williams, you will
have a good time, I know; and you must be sure
to ride home with us."
Soothed by her sympathetic words, Debby almost
forgot her troubles, and sat watching the moving
picture with great amusement, until she espied her
brothers helping Mr. Williams pass the saucers of
Oh, I hope they wont be tempted to take any,"
she thought, her heart full of a wordless prayer for
them. But her anxiety was soon relieved by see-
ing Sam forcing his way toward her with a plate of
He gave it to me for helping," he whispered;
" but you take it. Jim ate his right up."
Eat it yourself, Sammy," she said, drawing
back the hand she had stretched out for it. I
don't care so very much about it, because I am
older, you know."
Don't you, now, truly, truly, black and bluely,
lay me down and cut me in twoly ?' he asked,
with the air of a magistrate about to "swear" a
I would very much rather you should eat it,"
evaded Debby.
Then I will," he answered, brightly, for I do
want it awfully."
"Eat it, then; but don't be tempted to take
any," she cautioned.
Catch me taking-I'm not a thief! and he
hastened away.
Debby was thirteen years old, but she could have
cried for that ice-cream.
Oh, here you are at last cried Annie, run-
ning up to her a few minutes afterward. I
could n't imagine where you had got to. Now, just
read my letter," placing a tiny sheit of pink paper
in her hand. That box all trimmed up at the
end of the candy-table is the post-office," she ex-
plained, and we give them five cents and ask for
a letter. Just read mine."
Debby read, written in a large, clear hand:

"And shouldst thou ask my judgment of that which hath most
profit in the world,
For answer take thou tlis: The prudent penning of a letter."

"'It's lovely! was Debby's comment. "If I
should have one, I wonder what it would be "
I'll run and get you one," volunteered Annie.
No, no cried Debby, in terror. I have no
money to pay for it."
Have you spent it all so soon ?" asked Annie,


curiously. "But we must go now and get our ice-
cream; for, do you know, Mr. James has promised
to treat all our class. So come along, for the more
we eat the richer the church will grow."
No," refused Debby, shaking off Annie's hand,
"I wont do any such thing," and she shrank back
into her corner.
How queerly you act You wont do anything
I ask you," pouted Annie, turning away.
I could n't take it," Debby excused to herself.
I want it so much that I'd feel like a beggar in
taking it from him. Annie can't understand, be-
cause she has bought it for herself, and will only
eat it now for fun. I wish there was something for
me to do."
Her thought was scarcely finished before it was
answered by Mrs. White, in the handsome alpaca
Debby's mother so admired.
What am I to do with this child ? she asked,
stopping before Mrs. Williams with a sleeping baby
in her arms. Phil wants me to go to supper with
him, but what can I do ? "
I'll hold her," said Debby, eagerly. I have
a nice quiet place here."
Much obliged, I'm sure," answered Mrs. White,
placing the baby carefully in her arms.
With something to take care of, Debby grew so
comfortable that when Mrs. White returned from
supper she begged to keep the baby longer.
Every one is so busy here that I 'd like to have
something to do, too," she said, arranging a paper
so as to shade the baby's eyes from the light,
remembering with a throb of gratitude the oranges
Mrs. White sent her when she was sick last fall.
If you don't really care to run about, it would
be a great favor to me," returned Mrs. White, for
there are so many people here that I shall not see
again for a year, and I want to speak to them all.
But a baby is not the most convenient article to
carry in a crowd."
The handsome alpaca disappeared, and Debby
kept her guard for an hour, watching the young
people who visited the post-office or joked over the
neckties and aprons.
Here's an industrious young lady who has had
no supper," declared a bald-headed old gentleman,
stopping before her with a large bell in his hand.

I've had my supper," quickly answered Debby.
I don't remember counting you at the table,"
he replied, wiping the perspiration from his fore-,
head as le passed on, loudly ringing the bell.
I did n't tell a story," sighed Debby, for I've
had my supper; but I'd like people to think I'd
had it here. It looks so nice to sit at the table,"
she added, catching a glimpse of Annie's blue rib-
bons as she sat at the table next her brother.
How thoughtless I have been cried Mrs.
White, returning in a fluster. I forgot all about
you ; you must be tired to death."
Only a little tired," said Debby, and I am so
glad to do anything for you."
Well, you must come and see me," invited
Mrs. White, with her mouth full of pins, as she
rolled the baby into a large shawl, and perhaps I
can find something for you to read."
But when Debby stood up she felt more stiff and
tired than she had acknowledged, and, fearing that
she had stayed too late, she hurried on her wraps,
and with much persuasion induced her brothers to
go home with her.
It would n't do us any good to stay and see the
auction," she reasoned, closing the door upon the
noisy scene with a heart lighter than when she had
entered it. ': Now let us see how fast we can trot
home in the moonlight."
Giving a hand to each of the boys, they walked
swiftly toward the little red farm-house, where,
although their parents had retired, a lamp and
a bright fire awaited them.
The kitchen seemed very quiet after the hubbub
they had left, with the clock on the stroke of nine
and the cat asleep in the wood-box.
There were three pieces of pumpkin-pie on the
table, left as a lunch for them, and these they ate,
talking in whispers; and then Debby unfastened
the boys' neckties, and followed them upstairs, too
tired and sleepy to be very glad or very sorry about
But as she snuggled down under the blankets,
with the merry din still ringing in her ears, she
I have not made much Christmas for any one
to-day, but, when I'm grown-up, wont I make
Merry Christmas for little girls "



(An Old SoldiCr's Remi/niiscence.)



'VE seen many a brave
man in my time,
sure enough," said
old Ivan Starikoff,
removing his short
pipe to puff out a
volume of smoke
from beneath his
long white mous-
tache. "Many and

S many a one have I
seen; for, thank
Heaven, the chil-
S -. dren of holy Russia
'. "are never wanting
in that xway ; but
-" ",'- all of them put to-
i gether would n't
make one such man
-- as our old colonel,
Count Pavel Petro-
vitch" Severin. It
was n't only that he faced danger like a man,-
all the others did that,-but he never seemed
to know that there cwas any danger at all. It
was as good as a re-enforcement of ten bat-
talions to have him among us in the thick of a
fight, and to see his grand, tall figure drawn up
to its full height, and his firm face and keen gray
eye turned straight upon the smoke of the enemy's
line, as if defying them. to hurt him. And when the
very earth was shaking with the cannonade, and
balls were flying thick as hail, and the hot, stifling
smoke closed us in like the shadow of death, with a
flash and a roar breaking through it every nowi
and then, and the whole air filled with the rush of
the shot, like the wind sweeping through a forest
in autumnn,-then Petrovitch would light a cigarette
and hum a snatch of a song, as coolly as if he were
at a dinner-party in the English Club at Moscow.
And it really seemed as if the bullets ran away
from him, instead of his running from them ; for
he never got hit. But if he saw any of us begin-
ning to waver, he would call out cheerily : 'Never
fear, lads-remember what the song says For
in those days we had an old camp-song that we
were fond of singing, and the chorus of it was this:

Then fear not swords that brightly shine,
Nor towers thai grimly frown;
For God shall march before our line,
And tread our foemen down.'

"He said this so often, that at last he got the
nickname among us of 'Ne-Boisya' (Don't fear),
and he deserved it, if ever man did yet. Why,
Father Nikolai Pavlovitch himself (the Emperor
Nicholas) gave him the Cross of St. Georget with
his own hand (the St. George from the emperor's
own hand-think of that !) at the siege of Varna,
in the year '28. You see, our battery had been ter-
ribly cut up by the Turkish fire, so at last there
were only about half a dozen of us left on our feet.
It was as hot work as I ever was in,-shot pelting,
earth-works crumbling, gabions crashing, guns and
gun-carriages tumbling over together, men falling
on every side like leaves, till, all at once, a shot
went slap through our flag-staff, and down came
the colors !
Quick as lightning, Pavel Petrovitch was up on
the parapet, caught the flag as it fell, and held it,
right in the face of all the Turkish guns, while I
and another man spliced the pole with our belts.
You may think how the unbelievers let fly at him
when they saw him standing there on the top of
the breastwork, just as if he 'd been set up for a
mark; and all at once I saw one fellow (an Alba-
nian by his dress, and you know what deadly shots
l/ij, are) creep along to the very angle of the wall,
and take steady aim at him !
I made a spring to drag the colonel down (I was
his servant, you know, and whoever hurt him hurt
me); but before I could reach him I saw the flash
of the Albanian's piece, and Pavel Petrovitch's cap
went spinning into the air, with a hole right through
it just above the forehead. And what do you think
the colonel did ? Why, he just snapped his fingers
at the fellow, and called out to him, in some jibber-
jabber tongue only fit to talk to a Turk in:
Can't you aim better than that, you fool? If
I were your officer, I 'd give you thirty lashes for
wasting the government ammunition !'
"Well, as I said, he got the St. George, and of
course everybody congratulated him, and there was
a great shaking of hands, and giving of good
wishes, and drinking his health in nmazro tchai,-
that's a horrid mess of eggs, and scraped cheese,
and sour milk, and Moldavian wine, which these
Danube fellows have the impudence to call black
tea,' as if it was anything like the good old tea that
we Russians drink at home (I 've always thought,
for nmy part, that tea ought to grow in Russia; for
it 's a shame that those Chinese idolaters should
have such grand stuff all to themselves.)

* Paul the son of Peter. This is the usual form of address in Russia, even from a servant.


f The hlighest Russian decoration.


Well, just in the height of the talk, Pavel
Petrovitch takes the cross off his neck, and holds
it out in his hand-just so-and says :
Well, gentlemen, you say I'm the coolest man
in the regiment, but perhaps everybody would n't
agree with you. Now, just to show that I want
nothing but fair play, if I ever meet my match in
that way, I '1l give him this cross of mine !'
Now, among the officers who stood around him
was a young fellow who had lately joined-a quiet,
modest lad, quite a boy to look at, with light curly
hair, and a face as smooth as any lady's. But
when he heard what the colonel said, he looked up
suddenly, and there came a flash from his clear
blue eyes like the sun striking a bayonet. And
then I thought to myself:
"'It wont be an easy thing to match Pavel
Petrovitch ; but if it can be done, here's the man
to do it !'
I think that campaign was the hardest I ever
served. Before I was enlisted, I had often heard it
said that the Turks had no winter; but I had
always thought that this was only a 'yarn,' though,
indeed, it would be only a just judgment upon the
unbelievers to lose the finest part of the whole
year. But when I went down there I found it true,
*sure enough. Instead of a good, honest, cracking
frost to freshen everything up, as our proverb says,
Na zimni kholod
Vsiaki molod'-
(in winter's cold every one is young), it was all chill,
sneaking rain, wetting us through and through,
and making the hill-sides so slippery that we could
hardly climb them, and turning all the low grounds
into a regular lake of mud, through which it was a
terrible job to drag our cannon. Many a time in
after days, when I've heard spruce young cadets at
home, who had never smelt powder in their lives,
talking big about glorious war' and all that, I 've
said to myself, Aha, my fine fellows if you had
been where I have, marching for days and days
over ankles in mud, with nothing to eat but stale
black bread, so hard that you had to soak it before
you could get it down ; and if you'd had to drink
water through which hundreds of horses had just
been trampling; and to scramble up .and down
steep hills under a roasting sun, with your feet so
swollen and sore that every step was like a knife
going into you ; and to lie all night in the rain,
longing for the sun to rise that you might dry
yourself a bit,-perhaps then you would n't talk
quite so loud about glorious war !"'
However, we drove the Turks across the Bal-
kans at last, and got down to Yamboli, a little town
at the foot of the mountains, which commands
the high-road to Adrianople. And there the un-
believers made a stand, and fought right well. I

will say that for 'em ; for they knew that if
Adrianople were lost, all was over. But God
fought for us, and we beat them ; though, indeed,
with half our men sick, and our clothes all in rags,
and our arms rusted, and our powder mixed with
sand by those rogues of army-contractors, it was a
wonder that we could fight at all.
"Toward afternoon, just as the enemy were be-
ginning to give way, I saw Pavel Petrovitch (who
was a general by this time) looking very hard at a
mortar-battery about a hundred yards to our right;
and all at once he struck his knee fiercely with his
hand, and shouted:
What do the fellows mean by firing like that ?
They might as well pelt the Turks with potatoes!
I'll soon settle them Here, Vanya (Ivan) '
"Away he went, I after him ; and he burst into
the battery like a storm, and roared out:
Where's the blockhead who commands this
battery ?'
'"A young officer stepped forward and saluted;
and who should this be but the light-haired lad
with the blue eyes, whom I had noticed that night
at Varna.
'Well, you wont command it to-morrow, my
fine fellow, for I'll have you turned out this very
day. Do you know that not a single shell that
you've thrown since I've been watching you has
exploded at all ?'
With your excellency's leave,' said the young
fellow, respectfully, but pretty firmly too, the
fault is none of mine. These fuses are ill-made,
and will not burn down to the powder.'
Fuses roared the general. Don't talk to
me of fuses ; I 'm too old for that rubbish Is n't
it enough for you to bungle your work, but you
must tell me a lie into the bargain ?'
'"At the word 'lie,' the young officer's face seemed
to turn red-hot all in a moment, and I saw his
hand clench as if he would drive his fingers through
the flesh. He made one stride to the heap of
bomb-shells, and, taking one up in his arms, struck
a match on it.
Now,' said he, quietly, your excellency can
judge for yourself. I 'm going to light this fuse ; if
your excellency will please to stand by and watch
it burn, you will see whether I have lied" or not.'
The general started, as well he might. Not that
he was afraid-you may be pretty sure of that; but
to hear this quiet, bashful lad, who looked as if he
had nothing in him, coolly propose to hold a lighted
shell in his arms to see if it would go off, and ask
him to stand by and watch it, was enough to startle
anybody. However, he was n't one to think'twice
about accepting a challenge ; so he folded his arms
and stood there like a statue. The young officer
lighted the fuse, and it began to burn.



"As for me and the other men, you may fancy
what we felt like. Of course, we could n't run while
our officers were standing their ground; but we
knew that if the shell did go off, it would blow
every man of us to bits, and it was n't pleasant to
have to stand still and wait for it. I saw the men
set their teeth hard as the flame caught the fuse ;
and as for me, I wished with all my heart and soul
that if there were any good fuses in the heap, this
might turn out to be one of the bad ones !
"But no-it burned away merrily enough, and
came down, and down, and down, nearer and
nearer to the powder The young officer never
moved a muscle, but stood looking steadily at the
general, and the general at him. At last, the red
spark got close to the metal of the shell; and then
I shut my eyes, and prayed God to receive my soul.
Just at that moment, I heard the man next me
give a quick gasp, as if he had just come up from
a plunge under water ; and I opened my eyes again
just in time to see the fuse out, and the young
officer letting drop the shell at the general's feet,
without a word.

For a moment, the general stood stock still,
looking as if he did n't quite know whether to
knock the young fellow down, or to hug him in
his arms like a son; but, at last, he held out his
hand to him, saying:
Well, it's a true proverb, that every one meets
his match some day; and 1've met mine to-day,
there's no denying it. There's the St. George for
you, my boy, and right well you deserve it; for if
I'm the coolest man in the regiment," you're the
coolest in all Russia !'
"And so said all the rest, when the story got
abroad; and the commander-in-chief himself, the
great Count Diebitsch, sent for the lad, and said a
few kind words to him that made his face flush up
like a young girl's. But in after days he became
one of the best officers we ever had; and I've seen
him, with my own eyes, complimented by the
emperor himself, in presence of the whole army.
And from that day forth, the whole lot of us,
officers and men alike, never spoke of him by any
other name but K/Zadnokrovni (' the cool-blooded
one ')."

NOTE.--wo other versions of this story, differing somewhat in detail, are current in the Russian army; but the one in the text is the
more probable, as well as the more generally received.


[Never before printed.]

A BOUNDING gallop is good
Over wide plains;
A wild free sail is good
'Mid gales and rains;
A dashing dance is good
Broad halls along,
Clasping and whirling on
Through the gay throng.
But better than these,
When the great lakes freeze,
By the clear sharp light
Of a starry night,
O'er the ice spinning
With a long free sweep,
Cutting and ringing
Forward we keep!
On 'round and around,
With a sharp clear sound,
To fly like a fish in the sea !
Ah, this is the sport for nme



TIERE were once three little foxes who lived in a hole in a bank. It
was a large, comfortable hole, and these three little foxes (two of them
were brothers and one was a sister) could lie down and put their heads
out of the hole, and see what was going on in the neighborhood.
One afternoon one of the brother foxes slipped out by himself for a
little walk, and when he came back he called the other two, and said:
" Oh, come here I will show you something, and tell you all about it."
So they all lay down close together, and looked out of the hole.
"Now then," said the brother fox who had been out, "you see that
fence down there ? "
Oh yes," said his brother and sister.
Well, on the other side of that fence is a splendid chicken-yard. I
went down there and saw it myself. I peeped through the fence. And
in that yard there is a row of chicken-coops, all with chickens in."
Oh!" said the others. They began to feel hungry already.
"Yes, all with chickens in, and I heard a little girl say that the row
of coops was called Pullet Row, Chicken Avenue, and that all the houses
were taken. The first coop had an old hen and eleven little puffy chickens
in it, and the second one held a whole lot of small chickens who were
big enough to take care of themselves; and the next coop had in it an
old rooster who had hurt his foot, and who had to be shut up. I think
it's funny that neither mother nor father ever found out this splendid
chicken-yard, so near us too As soon as it gets to be a little dark we
must go down there and get some of those chickens."
All right," said the sister fox; we '11 go, and I '11 take the first coop
with the little chickens."
And I '11 take the coop with the young chickens who are big enough
to take care of themselves," said one of the brother foxes.
"I '11 take the big old rooster," said the other brother fox. I like
lots of chickens when I eat any."
At the back of the hole the old Mother Fox was lying down. Her
children thought she was asleep, but she was not, and she heard all that
they had been talking about.
She now came forward and said: That is certainly a very nice place
that you see down there, and you, my son, were very smart, no doubt,
to discover it. But when you go down there, this evening, take a look
at a small house near the chicken-yard. A dog lives there-a big black




and white fellow-named Bruce. He is let into the chicken-yard every
night at dark. If you think that he wont see you, when you go inside,
or that he can't run fast enough to catch you, it might be a very good
idea for you to go down there this evening and get some chickens."

The three little foxes looked at each other, and concluded that they
would not go. It was a long time after that before they were heard to
boast of being smarter than their father and mother. '
VOL. V.-i6.



R I I I' .
1( ,, .

1L ,a I' U .l

HAPPY 1878 Happy New Year to all Jack's
little friends And now let us begin our year's
talk with something about

DEACON GREEN took a ride early last month,
my dears, and he tells me of a wonderful garden
which he saw from a window as he went whirling
by on a railroad.
Can you guess what was growing in a garden in
No, it was not in a Southern State; so your
guess of oranges is n't right-though they tell me
that oranges do grow in winter-time in Florida.
It was a garden of Christmas-trees, set out in
even rows, and looking as spruce and gay and
happy as if they knew that they were almost old
enough to hold a candle in each of their thousand
hands, and a bright gift or token of good-will on
each of their thousand arms. I fancy that the gar-
dener who has his mind filled with the care of a
garden of Christmas-trees must be a very cheery,
kind-hearted fellow indeed. Don't you ?

IN Mecklenburg, Northern Germany, as I'm
told, fuel is scarce and dear; and, as the peasants
are very poor, they take an odd way to save wood.
It is this:
Each village has one or two large ovens in which
the baking for a number of people can be done at
one time. These ovens look from a little distance
as if they were small hillocks, and they are built in
the open fields. Why they are placed away from
the village I was not told; but I would like to
know. They have very much the look of under-
ground dairy-cellars, and are built of great stones

covered with turf. One or two men can go into an
oven quite comfortably.
In each oven a great fire is made, to heat the
stones, and when these are hot enough the fire and
ashes are swept out, and the bread is put in to
bake. Then a stone door is put over the mouth
until it is time to take out the loaves. There is no
chimney or opening, and the heat stays in well-
even for some time after the bread has been taken
out; so that it is no strange thing for a belated
traveler to use the shelter or warmth of one of these
empty ovens on some cold and stormy night when
far from his home.
So much for fire-places out-of-doors. Now for a
word about
I 'VE just heard of the queer way the Persians
have of keeping themselves warm in their houses
during cold weather. They place in the middle of
the room a pan of burning charcoal under a sort
of table or frame which holds up a large wadded
quilt that reaches the floor on all sides, like a tent.
This must look almost like keeping the fire warm.
Then the family sit around the droll stove, with
their legs and arms under the quilt; and when they
wish to go to sleep, they put themselves half under
the quilt, and so keep nice and warm until the
morning. That's easy enough for Persians to do,
because, as I 'm told, they never undress at night,
but just roll themselves in coverings and lie down
Perhaps you would not find such arrangements
in your homes quite as comfortable as soft beds
and cozy blankets in well-warmed rooms. How-
ever, the Persian winter is not as cold as ours,
HERE'S an odd thing! My wise old wide-awake
friend the owl tells me that a Yale College professor
has found out a way to make a layer of metal so
thin that it will readily show the color of a light-
beam sent through it. That professor will be
showing us how to see through a mill-stone next,
may be.
DEAR JACK: I have a little friend, called Jack, too, who is gener-
ally the most sweet-tempered boy I know. But one day he came to
play in my rooms, as usual, for I always keep his toys there, in repair
and order. He soon grew tired of them, and came to me for a story.
I was busy with reading, and refused, telling him to wait until I had
leisure. Then he grew impatient, and put my book down with a
coaxing "Please, Fred." I could not humor him then, and gently
told him to stop. Then-I am sorry to say it-he became very angry,
and gave me a blow in my face Now, Jack, don't pass your sen-
tence yet-remember, it was the first and only act of that kind. But
guess what I did.
I stooped over him and kissed him, saying: "Is this my little
boy?" He looked at me and went into a corner-ashamed and
weeping. Was not that a sweet victory ? I wish some little sisters or
brothers would try it. You may believe me this is truth. Some
future day I will tell you how I made him some toys.-Yours,
DID you ever hear of such an article of food as
bird's-nest soup ? Well, this soup does not take its
name from its looks, as bird's-nest pudding gets its
title, but it is actually made from real birds'-nests.
In the island of Java, I'm told, there is a species



of sea-swallow which makes a nest much like that
of our chimney-swallow, and fastens it to the rocky
walls of caves. These nests are made almost en-
tirely of a glue-like substance, mixed with a little
grass or hair and a few sticks, and they are carefully
gathered and sent to China, where they are sold
as food.
The nests are soaked in water until the glue
becomes soft, when the sticks and straws are picked
out and thrown away. The jelly which remains is
then dried and preserved, to be used in making
the bird's-nest soup. This is considered a great


-:markets for twenty- five dollars a pound''-'". 'Of .course,

they are sometimes cooked in other ways.

the edible nest, there is a good deal of glue, too,,
i h s y i i s r r i
-. -, .^,-_-.,

-- : -

~-__--- -~. r ,, ,. ii..


delicacy, and the nests are sold in the Chinese
markets for twenty-five dollars a pound. Of course,
at this price, none but rich folks can indulge in
them, and they are therefore a very fashionable
dish. Although they are usually made into soup,
they are sometimes cooked in other ways.
It's my opinion that the nest of the chimney-
swallow might be used as food in the same way ;
for although it has more sticks and hay in it than
the edible nest, there is a good deal of glue, too,
and each nest might yield quite a large pot of soup.
If the time shall ever come when our own country
will have as many people in it as there are in

China at the present time, many things little
thought of now will be turned to use as articles
of food. But at present there is no need of rob-
bing the birds; so let them keep cheerful while
they may, poor dears !
Now that we're talking about birds'-nests, I
may as well tell you some news that has come to
me all the way from East Cosham, in Hampshire,
On a small piece of frame-work under a third-


class "smoking" carriage on the London and
South-Western Railway, a water-wagtail built her
nest and reared a young and thriving family of
four. The train traveled regularly about forty miles
a day, and the station-master at East Cosham says
that, during every absence of it, the male bird
kept close to the spot, awaiting with great anxiety
the return of his wayfaring family.
Now, in my opinion, that water-wagtail mother
made a queer choice for her home-place. But if
the little ones get no other advantage from it, they
are sure to be well trained. What do you think
about it, my chicks ?





THE following is Dr. J. G. Holland's answer to his "Double
Riddle," published in our last number:
La, man I see your little game:
'T is "Ia" itself in song or aria
That piercing dear Mlaria's name
Transforms it to Malari'ia.
And "Ia" itself, as all men know.
Raises the sol to si and do.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I have made up a nice little story, and I
want you to know it. It is called Laziness."
Once upon a time there was a little boy and his name was James.
He was very lazy. One day he was going out to play when his
mother called him back. "James," said she, "I went up to your
room to make your bed, for the maid was too busy, and your room is
very disorderly. Unless you promise to keep it insorder, and have it
in order by next week, I will send you fiom home. I am very sorry
to say this; but it must be said. 'Now you may go; that is all I
wanted you for." Next week came very soon, and the rooln was
still in disorder. The mother went up and looked in; she threw her-
self on her knees, and prayed that Heaven would not let her send
her boy away. James went away, and his mother never saw him
Now, children, learn a lesson from this, and don't be driven from
home by laziness.
I am eleven years old, aand I t you to give my love to Jack-in-
the-Pulpit and the School-mistress. JENNIE MOORE.

THIS is what the "Blind-clerk" made of the puzzling address that
M. B. T. gave in a letter to Jack-in-the-Pulpit, published last month:
"Servant Girl, No. 40 Queen's parade, London."
And that turned out to be the right address, too. Another friend says
that this same blind-clerk once had referred to him a letter addressed
like this:
"To my uncle tom, london."
That was too much. The letter never reached my uncle tom."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken ST. NICHOLAS for several
years, and like it better every year. I often read over the old num-
bers, and find many things that seem almost new to me. One of
these was John Spooner's Human Menagerie," in the number for
April, lt75, and I lave been trying to get up a menagerie" like
John's. I can make most of the wonderful living curiosities, but I
do not know ]ow to make a curtain that will go up with a flourish."
I have made one to draw sideways, but I want one to go tip. Please
inform me how to construct it.-Yours truly, FRED R. MARTIN.

Here is a tolerably easy way to make a stage-curtain that will
"go up with a flourish," and come down either quickly or slowly,
as may be wished. It is easily kept in order, and readily repaired
when damaged.
Above the stage, at the front, set up a stout cross-beam. Let the
curtain be of some opaque stuff that will fold well. Fasten its upper
edge firmly to the font the hot fe cross-beam. WVeight the lower edge of
the curtain with a long roller some inches wider than the curtain.
Sew to the curtain, on its wrong side, perpendicular rows of rings
set at suitable distances apart, and in level lines across. The more
rows, the more evenly will the curtain fold. Tie a strong thin cord
about the roller in a line with each perpendicular row of rings, and
pass each cord through its proper iings. On the bottom of the cross-
beam above the several rows of rings, fasten large smooth rings to
be used instead of pullics. Pass the cords up through the large
rings, and gather them at one end of the beam. lThen fasten the
ends of the cords to a rope, taking care while doing this that the
curtain is down, and hanging p.perly, and that all the cords are
drawn equally tense. There should be a stout pin or hook at the side
of the curtain, to which the rope is to be fastened when the curtain
is drawn up. Take notice that the cords are of different length, and
must be free from knots. The criisltn should not touch the stage,
and may be kept in place by fixing the ends of the roller in iron rings
or between pegs.


THE frontispiece to this number of ST. NICHOLAs slows how the
mails were carried in winter over the Rocky M\ountains and the
Sierra Nevada before the Union Pacific Railroad was finished (1869),
and how they are carried now. In i867, to the perils of the snow
and wind and of mountain travel, were added dangers from despera-
does, white as well as red, so that mail deliveries were few and far
between, and very irregular, while too often both the carriers and
their packs were lost. Slow as the old way was, however, the snow
sometimes makes the new way even slower. In spite of miles and
miles of snow-sheds and snow-fences, and ever so many steam snow-
plows, the railroad is blocked now and then until a way can be dug
through huge heaps of drift. Thus, sometimes, whole days are lost
on the steam road, when a man might be speeding and coasting on
his queer foot-gear, over the snow-crust like the wind, to reach the
destination perhaps a week ahead of the snorting snowed-up mon-
ster. However, year by year, as sheds and fences and other preven-
tions are multiplied, railroad delays caused by snow become fewer
and fewer.

Georgetown, D. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I was so much pleased with the little figure
of a nun in the November number, that I made eight like it. I have
been taking the ST. NICHOLAS ever since it came out, and think it
gets nicer every time it is published. I am not quite seven years old,
but I composed all of this letter. JOHN WM. MITCHELL.

MY VERY DEAR ST. NcICOLAS : We really don't know what we
should do without you. We took ithe Young Folks" for a great
many years, and have taken you ever since you were first established.
We went, a short time ago, to see a man who swallowed swords for
a profession. Now, can any of our ST. NICHOLAS friends tell us
whether he really swallowed them or not, and explain how it is done ?
-Your loving friends and devoted readers, FANNIE CHANDLER,

Painesville, Ohio.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My children learn the names of English
kings and queens, the books of the Old Testament in their order, and
other matters of importance to remember, through having found and
committed to memory certain rhymes containing them. I have seen
several en-l'^-l'Ini th books of the New Testament, but they all
have be .. r !...: '.I or long for children to learn. I inclose an
easy one, written for my own children, which may prove useful to
your large family of young folks. W.

In the New Testament we find
Mlatthew and Mark leading,
With St. Luke and St. John
The books next succeeding.
Acts and Romans have place
Before Corinthians and Galatians;
In then we can trace
Good news for all nations.
Ephesians and Philippians
In order are next;
Colossians, Thessalonians,
With hard names and 'ood text.
Timothy, Titus, and Philemon
Fill up some pages,
And with Hebrews continue
The lessons of ages.
James, Peter, and John
Finish then the good story
With Jude, and Revelations
To add to its glory.

Mount Desert.
DEAR ST. NICnOLAS : I have seen a good many receipts for candy
in the Letter-Box," but not one for chocolate creams. Here is one
I have tried a great many times, and it has always been successful:
Two cups of sugar to half a cup of boiling water Put nit the
stove, and let it boil ten minutes. Grate a quarter of a square of
Baker's chocolate. Place this on the top of a steaming-kettle; leave


it there until soft. Meanwhile, take off the cream and beat it until
perfectly white. Roll into little round balls, and dip them in the
chocolate. Put the balls into a dish, and set them away to cool.
Hoping you will print this receipt, I remain your devoted admirer,
P. S.-The sugar must be powdered.

MOLLIE.-We do not know. One always has to make sure, too,
that no speck of envy lurks in the wish to have justice done.

A FRIEND sends us the following Kindergarten song:


-- -

-F _
-- -- -

ONE, two, three !
Now please listen to me:
A minute is sixty seconds long;
Sixty minutes to an hour belong.
One, two, three !
Learning is easy, you see.
Four, five, six !
'T is easy as picking up sticks.
Twenty-four hours make one long day;
Seven days in a week we say.
One, two, three !
Learning is easy, you see.
Seven, eight, nine !
Never cry or whine.
The years are only twelve months long;
There is no time for doing wrong.
One, two, three!
Learning is easy, you see.
Tick, tack, tock [
Only look at the clock.
He works away the whole day long,
And every hour he sings a song.
Di"7 dong, ding !
S work and sing. A. E. L.

Elizabeth, N. J.
My DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Would you please tell me .. i..t
about the Drawing Classes of the School of Design at
Institute; and what forms have to begone i.. .i. ire a pupil
can enter; and how old a pupil has to be ,i dear ST.
NICHOLAS.-Your faithful reader, SARAH D. O.

The "Woman's Art School" of the Cooper Union, about which
Sarah D. O. makes inquiry, is for pupils between the ages of sixteen
and thirty-five.
Applications for admission should be made, personally or in writ-
ing, to the Principal, Mrs. Sarah N. Carter, giving a responsible
written reference as to character, fitness, etc.
The free school holds session from 9 a. m. to i p. m. There is a
"paying" class that meets three times a week in the afternoon, un-
der the charge of the first assistant in drawing of the Woman's Art
School" and of the clerk of the school, and the general superintend-
ence of the principal. But the "paying" class is only for those who
wish to study art merely as an accomplishment.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAs: I thought you would like to hear about a
little girl who is very fond of you. She always took ST. NICHOLAS
until last autumn, then the times were so hard we were unable to get
it for her; so she has read and re-read the old ones. Mamnna has
been sick a great deal for two years, and Agnes, who is ten years

old and the oldest of the family, has learned to do a great many
things. She can make bread, biscuit, pies and cake,-but her chief
accomplishment is toast-making. Last fall, when berries were npe
she picked and dried some currants, raspberries and blackberries, and
put them carefully away. Ever since, when any one is sick, she
puts some of her berries in a cup and cooks them nicely; then she
makes such a nice piece of toast, so delicate, never scorched or raw.
She has no fruit-closet of delicacies to go to, but the common things
she has are so nicely prepared that they become luxurious, and often
make mamma think of Bayard Taylor's little rhymes about mush and
milk, a couplet of which reads:
"And common things that seem most nigh,
Both purse and heart may satisfy."
Her little brother, eighteen months old, claims much of her care,
and in return loves her as much as he does mamma. He calls her
Tee, and misses her sadly if she is out of sight an hour.
When Agnes was three years old, she said one day:
"Papa, how I love you "
"What makes you love him? See h hohomely he is," teasingly
answered mamma.
The little one took a good look at papa, and throwing her arms
around his neck again, she said:
Well, he's pretty in his heart."
Mamma thinks the little girl who can be so thoughtful for ever-
tired mamma, so kind to the sick, and so tender of little baby
brother, must be pretty in her heart. AGNES'S MOTrHER.

HERE is an enigma made by a little girl eight years of age:
My first is in spin, but not in weave ;
My second in part, but not in leave;
My third is in rain, but not in storm;
M\y fourth in chilly, but not in warm m
My fifth in hen, but not in coop;
My whole is a country of Europe.
Answer: Spain.

Easton, Md.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Will you please tell ne from which of
Shakspeare's plays the following quotation is taken ?
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head."
-Yours truly, MAlKI, H. WiVLSON.
The quotation is from As You Like It," Act II., Scene t. ; and
the whole passage reads:
SSweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like thie toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything."
The beauty is marred, and the aptness of the illustration is lost sight
of, by omitting the second half of this admirable sentence; therefore
we quote it entire.

"Fairfax," San Rafael, Cal.
DEAR ST. NICIOLAs: I have seen letters from San Francisco,
Oakland, and i. ., in California, but I do not think nny one
has written to i.. tu Rafael, a beautiful little town near San
Fairfax is about three miles from the town. The ride here is
very pleasant, especially in winter and spring time, when the hills are
green and the wild flowers are in bloom.
The house resembles the old Fairfax house in Virginia, called
Greenway Court, except that this is perhaps more rambling and the
other lacks our wide-spreading bay-trees. It faces the garden and
orchard, and beyond these is the hill, a mine of wonder and beauty.
We all enjoy climbing that hill and looking for ferns. In oine
parts we hardly date step, for fear of crushing ........ i -tifuil.
We look down upon a bank of green moss, and ... i i like
fungi, so delicate that we hold our breath lest they should float away.
Farther on are orange-colored ones, and some slaped like callas,
translucent, and in color a pale pink carnelian. Wanderingi on. we
enter a grove of pine-trees, in the midst of which a pr-;n," is bubbling
up. and the ground is covered with a carpet of .. mincs, and
wild flowers. By the time we are ready to go home, our baskets are
well filled; and then, after we get home, we have the delight of
arranging the flowers and ferns, examining the fungi with the micro-
scope, and preparing imposing baskets of specimens t' send to two
delightful members of the Academy of Science in lan Francisco, who
are making fingi a specialty in their researches.
One day last summer my brother came running into the house,




saying, in a very loud whisper, "There's a deer in the creek!
There's a deer in the creek We all rushed out in time to see
Uncle George, up to his waist in water, struggling with an immense
buck. The dogs were there, too, barking as loudly as they could.
It was very exciting. My sympathies were entirely with the deer,
whio made a noble fight before he was conquered. Deer are plentiful
around here. Often we are awakened by the baying of the deer-
hounds, and we can see the hunting parties on their horses galloping
over the hill, and the dogs running to and fro.
The ioys catch a good many large fish in our creek, and my uncle
once caught a ten-pound salmon-trout that was very pretty; it had
two delicate pink bands running along its sides.
The hills are crimson, a little before Christmas, with a holly pecu-
liar to California; and we have many merry excursions in a wagon
that we children call our "chariot," in which we go to gather holly
for our Christmas festivities.
I have written too much, and yet I would like to tell more, our
days are so full of pleasant change.-Your affectionate reader,
MAY D. BIGELOW (fifteen years old).

previous to November 18, from Annie Longfellow, Bess," Isola,"
" Bessie and her Cousin," "Helen of Troy," W. M. B., Nessie E.
Stevens, Winnie," Florence L. Turrill, James J. Ormsbee, Annie
Forbush and Emma Elliott, Grace G. Chandler, Carrie Speiden and
Mary F. Speiden, F. A. G. Cameron, Fred M. Pease, Geo. J. Fiske,
Geo. Herbert White, Sidonie," Louise Gilman, Clelsa Duel Mosher,
Mamie L. Holbrook, Ellie Hewitt, Fannie W., "Croghan, Jr.,"
Anna E. Mathewsun, Eddie Bryan, and Allie Bertram.


AUNT Jo's SCRAP-BAG, Vol. IV. (My Girls, etc.), published by
Messrs. Roberts Brothers, Boston, is the fourth book in this deservedly
popular series of short stories by Miss Louisa M. Alcott. The tales
are full of freshness, humor, and wholesome thought, with inimitable
touches of playful fancy and tenderness such as have established Miss
Alcott's loving rule over the hearts of her readers. Boys as well as
girls will find plenty to enjoy in these twelve delightful scraps from
Aunt Jo's bag, and,-but readers of ST. NICHOLAS need no recom-

mendation to them of anything that Miss Alcott has written. There
are some pretty illustrations to the book, and the price is one dollar.
From the same publishers we have received also: TOM, A HOME-
STORY, by George L. Chaney, illustrated, $1.25; A GREAT EM R-
GENCY, AND OTHER TALES, by Juliana Horatia Ewing, illustrated,
QUITE SO JOLLY, by P. Thorne, illustrated, $1.25.
A new book by the author of" Helen's Babies" is now to be ob-
and is an illustrated edition of "Other People's Children." Tile de-
signs are by Lucy G. Morse.
Boys will be glad to hear of a good book, EVERY-DAY EXPERIENCES
AT ETON, by a present Eton boy, published by George R. Lockwood,
of New York. It is a hearty and amusing story, giving, with very
slight exaggeration, a faithful account of life in the English public-
school at Eton.
SPENSER FOR CHILDREN, published by Chatto & Windus, of Lon-
don; Scribner, Armstrong & Co., New York. A beautiful book,
illustrated with several fine colored plates, and relating in simple
prose the chief incidents of Spenser's great poem.
From Messrs. Baker, Pratt & Co., New York, we have LILLIPUT
LAND; OR, THE CHILDREN'S PEEP-SHOW. This is a collection of
serials, short stories, poems, music, and pictures, adapted to interest
and instruct young folks. It is edited by the author of "Lilliput
Levee." Price, $1.25.
Messrs. Porter & Coates, Philadelphia, send us HAPPY DAYS, a
very pleasant book, full of pictures, tales and verses, for boys and
girls. Several of the articles are by well-known writers, and the
contents, as a whole, are bright, wholesome, and entertaining.
From the American Tract Society, New York, we have received
price 30 cents, postage 2 cents; DAUGHTERS OF ARMENIA, by Mrs.
S. A. Wheeler, Missionary in Turkey, price go cents, postage 6 cents;
ALMOST A MAN, by S. Annie Frost, with illustrations by Arthur Bur-
dett Frost, price $r, postage 8 cents; GRACE ASHLEIGH'S LIFE-
WORK, illustrated, price $i, postage 8 cents; and DEAR OLD STORIES
TOLD ONCE MORE, forty Bible stories, in large type, and with illus-
trations by Faith Latimer."


THE initials read downward and the finals upward will give the
names of two countries in Europe.
I. A beam of light. 2. To join. 3. To pillage. 4. An article of
food. 5. What merchants write. 6. An insect. A. n.

ACROSS: I. Calls. 2. A number. 3. A consonant. 4. A river.
5. Wounds. DIAGONALS: Sharpens and transmits. CENTRAL: In-
terior. CYRIL DEANE.
I. BEHEAD a kind of nut,-and leave a kind of grain. 2. Behead a
small stream, and leave a bird. 3. Behead another bird, and leave a
gardener's implement. 4. Behead a musical instrument, and leave
another musical instrument. 5. Behead a carpenter's tool, and leave
a narrow passage. 6. Behead part of a wagon, and leave a part of
the body. 7. Behead another part of the body, and leave a tree.
8. Behead an edible fish, and leave the defeat of an army. 9. Behead
a dried fruit, and leave an ancient alphabetic letter. ISOLA.


DIAGONALS, from left to right, a part of the year. Seven words.
Fill the blanks in the sentence with appropriate words; and written
under each other in the order given, they will give the diagonal.
As is more abundant than in this season when Love -
her altar fires anew, may this joy go through the year, bearing
you constant ; so that, loolinrg back at its close, you can say:
" 1878 to have been one prolonged -- ." J. e.

I. SYNCOPATE mad, and leave what soldiers often make. 2. Synco-
pate part of a house, and leave to move. 3. Syncopate speed, and
leave anger. 4. Syncopate to soak, and leave a gait. 5. Syncopate
a river, and leave a rank. 6. Syncopate a particle, and leave a laugh.
7. Syncopate openings, and leave farming implements. 8. Syncopate
baked clay, and leave fastenings.
The letters that have been syncopated, read downward, will make
two words which you must find in the following
x. In brook, but not il sea;
2. In slave, but not in free;
3. In lose, but not in find;
4. In heed, but not in mind;
5. In barn, but not in shed;
6. In black, but not in red;
7. In hill, but not in mound;
8. In held, but not in bound.
What's the answer ?-can you say ?
'T is something boys much like to play.
I. -- a good post at- a. Did you notice the carved
- in that old cathedral door in -- ? 3. Hwith pleasure
from Geneva, for 4. I took great to witness these national
games, when in -- 5. I found gold in a mine in 6. I
could stand in the entrance to the cave in -- 7. I have -
interest in than ill any other foreign city. B.




IN a word of five letters find: ist. An hour-glass puzzle, the central
letters of which, read downward, signify to perform again ; horizon-
tally, a symbol often used in writing, a beverage, a vowel, a perform-
ance, to provide. ad. A word-square containing a unit, a vehicle,
an epoch. 3d. Words to each of which one letter may be prefixed
so as to form another word: a preposition, an animal; a verb, a
weed ; a study, a vehicle; a part of the body, a sign of sorrow.
4th. Words to fill appropriately the blanks in each stanza below, by
prefixing a letter to the first word, when found to form the second,
and by prefixing a letter to the second to form the third:
I would not heed so small an -,
When dealing with one of his -
Or of my temper leave a -.
We asked him in; he sat and -
Of the ripe fruit at such a -,
He lowered well the heaped up ii. i. D.

IN these quotations find five girls' names, without transposing
any letters.
"Of such as wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign."-Gray.
Where olive-leaves were twinkling in every wind that blew,
There sat beneath the pleasant shade a damsel of Peru."
"Slowly she raised her form of ~1"c.:
Her eyes no ray conceptive 1.... -Hogqg.
"Stainless worth,
Such as the sternest age of virtue saw."-Bryant.


Fo 1

2 J

"I] 1
2 3 I

EACH of the horizontal words is formed of five letters, excepting
No. 6, which has but three. Of the perpendiculars, Nos. 16, 17 and
18 have ten letters each ; No. 12 has three letters; and each of the
other perpendiculars has five letters. The slanting words have each
three letters. Each corner letter serves for every word that radiates
from or to its corner.
lime; 2, an engraving; 3, to trench; 4, occurrence; F --rtin -
of glass; 6, a kind of fish; 7, large; 8, a yard; 9, .
Pendiculars.: o1, An article of dress; II, solemn; 12, hitherto ; 3, to
make sure; x4, a Turkish institution ; 5, to establish; 16, magical;
17, advancement; 18, tractable. Diagonals: i9, Sarcastic; 20, to
jump; 2a, did meet; 22, a wooden fastening; 23, apart of the body;
24, a hammock; 25, a girl's name. it. H. D.

I. AN instrument for measuring time. 2. A title among the ancient
Peruvians. 3. Sour. 4. To load. 'LUTO.

WHEN we went to the I 2 3 4 5 6 78 9, the others had contrived to
S2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 us in picking nuts. CYRIL DEANE.


MAKE the frame of four words of nine letters each, so that there
shall be the same letter of the.alphabet at each of the four corners
where the words intersect. That letter being indicated (o, in this
puzzle), gives the clue.
Upper horizontal line, a pigeon; lower horizontal line, a kind of
-r-in 4rt 'rc'rndiular line, without a name; right perpendicular

My first of Roman origin you see,
Whose purport illustrates the century;
Means light for blind men; restless as a sprite;
The sailor's trust; the prelate's dear delight.
My second heads a small but mighty band,
Whose power pervades and elevates the land:
Indefinite enough, yet, once defined,
It is a thing no language leaves behind.
My third consoles, and cheers in anguish deep,
And oft, like great Macbeth, hath "murdered sleep."
Dear to the maiden's heart when dry and dead,
Its beauty and its bloom forever fled.
Yet even then what lips its charm rehearse!
What poets chant it in their genial verse!
My whole how soft, how silent and how fleet
Female, yet masculine, its aspect sweet.
Tinted as fair as clouds that deck the sky,
Or stainless as the snows that round us lie;
Bright as the saffron tints of dawning light,
Or darker than the stormy depths of night.
A prince's bride; the treasure of a lad;
And yet biographer it never had.
For he who writes its life must ever use
Volumes to celebrate each separate muse.
Fierce, fond, and treacherous, full of songs and wails,
The hero of a thousand fights and tales;
The love of ladies and the scorn of men;
The shame of England's arms. Oh guess me then!

THESE are a source of great amusement, whether written or acted.
To illustrate the latter, you will, for instance, throw your muff under
the table, and ask. What word does that represent ?" Perhaps
some one will suggest Muffin." "No-' fur-below.' Tie your
handkerchief tightly around the neck of some statuette-"Arti-
choke"-etc. I. .;2,.. i 1 ;... -otence to illustrate a word,
the most ridicule.. .11 ... I..... the most mirth. W e will
give an illustration of one pretty far-fetched, but allowable: lister.
please come here and make this shell stand up on edge "-" Circum-
stantial (Sir-come-stan'-shell)." I encountered the doctor to-day"-
"Metaphysician "). With this introduction, I propose a few words
i i..r ... t" ..., into a jar. 2. Young ladies from Missouri.
3. A cow's tail in fly-time. 4. That young sow cost twenty-one shil-
lings sterling. 5. A sham head-dress. 6. Victims to corns. 7. Oxi-
dized iron on a weapon. 8. Where's the prisoner, Pat ? Sure,
your honor, he's taking his breakfast." 9. "Come and cut our hair."
o1. Deviate; fish. ii. A goat. 12. Four. AUNT SUE.




-2 ~ 'r;r

TFIE puzzle is an Anagram -..-.- ... ii., -..s d meant
for experienced puzzle-workers. I .. .-. i. ofawell-
known couplet relating to Christmas.
Each of the numerals underneath the pictures represents a letter
belonging to that word of the answer indicated by the numeral,-
(thus, 3 indicates a letter of the third word ; 7, a letter of the seventh
word, etc.),-and each collection of numerals represents a word which
will describe the picture above it.
To solve the puzzle, find a word to describe each picture containing
as many letters as there are numerals beneath the picture. After all
the seven words have been thus found, select from them and group
together all the letters that in the nwmb- r:- L- htn h the pictures are
designated by the same numeral I I. r I all the letters
bearing the same numeral belong to that word of the answer which is

indicated by the numeral), and each group of these letters must be
transposed to form the word of the answer which corresponds with
the numeral of the --r
Thus, the word i., Ihas three letters and will describe the first
picture. After words have been found to describe the other pictures,
the selection must begin, and "h," the first letter of "hay," should
be placed in a group with all the other letters bearing the numeral 7
in the numbering beneath the pictures ; "a" should be grouped with
all the other letters designated by 2, and "y" with all those designated
by 3; and so on.
When all the letters have been properly separated and grouped,
transpose all those letters belonging to group No. i into a word to
form the first word of the answer; those belonging to group No. 2 into
the second word of the answer, etc.


CHESS PUZZLE.-Begin at the word Bind." The stanza reads Reade (Charles read). 6. Ruskin trusk inn). 7. Gaskell (gas K ell).
"Bind me, ye woodbines, in your twines; 8. Hale. 9. Macaulay (Mac awl s --i Victor Hugo (victor hug 0).
Curl me about, ye gadding vines; tr. Prescott (press cot). 12. I...... (whit neigh). 13. Braddon
And oh, so close your circles lace, (brad don). 14. Alcott (Al cot). 15. Disraeli (D Israel I). 16. Ros-
That I may never leave this place; setti (Rose Ettie).
But lest your fetters prove too weak, A RIMLESS WVHEEL.-I. Parapet. 2. Manakin. 3. Fanatic. 4.
Ere I your silken bondage break, Rubadub. oa, par; Ib, pet; 2a, man; 26, kin; 3a, fan; 36, tic;
Do you, O brambles, chain me too, 4a, rub; 4b, dub.
And, courteous briars, nail me through."-MARsVELL. DIAGONAL PUZZLE.-Santa Claus. St. Nicholas, pAtronizes,
(Quoted by Elia in essay entitled B'akesmoor in H- shire.") coNfidence, conTribute, compArablo, reconCiles, immacuLate, legit-
EASY NuMERICAL ENIGrMA.-Lowell. L, lo, low, owe, we, well, ell imAte, miraculoUs, schoolboyS.
A PLEA FOR SANTA CLAUS.-Merry Christmas. Take the third PROVERB PUZZLE.-" Christmas comes but once a year." Car,
letter from the beginning of each line, and read downward. sabots, chimney, mouse, trace.
MAGIc DOMINO SQUARI.-The diagram shows one method of SEXTUPLE ACROSTIc.--Mopes, Abaft, Larva, Enter.
arranging the dominoes. But the puzzle can be solved by two or EASY DIAMOND P'ZZLE.--R, Dog, Robin, Gig, N.
three other arrangements. NUMERICAL ENIGMAS.-I. Winsome-win some. 2. Sailor-sail
or. 3. Wind-flowers--wind flowers. 4. Whip-poor-will-whip poor
0 4* A Will. 5. Parents-Pa rents. 6. To-morrow-Tom or row. 7. Well-
fare-Well! farewell.
*e o **
0@ @*

3. Ashantee-a shanty.

CR MAS ENIGMA.-". Inquires-in more Westerhan ane stern.glish
A NAES. Mulock (mew, 2. diagram shows one way of arranging nineteen trees in nine straight
PIcTORtnsr Qt'ADRsUaoLE AcnosTrc.-'-1 .1 :...... ,
Stral Cove. Undergrostnd. a. SNUlFcrS 1i. I I I
7. LaUrdl' 4. AuRoRA ,. OGAC. i I F i. i. i \
Cuptrl. S. TrUAnT. 9 ENVelopE. on. SpaDES
CHRIs t STMAS ENIGcsA.-" lie has more business than an English
oven at Christmas." AxsWEn TO TRte PUZZLE IN JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.-The above
AUTHOoS' NAMES.-si. Mulnck (mew, loch). 2. *i' I :- diaratm shows one way of arranging nineteen trees in nine straight
worth). 3. Thackeray (T hack ray). 4. Carlyle (Carl I ... rows and yet have five trees in each row. The lines show the rows.
For names of solvers of November puzzles, see Letter-Box," page 238.





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