Front Cover
 How Kitty was lost in a Turkish...
 "I'm a little story"
 Easter in Germany
 Dick Hardin away at school
 Under the lilacs
 The swallow
 The wild mustang
 April's sunbeam
 Old Nicolai
 The professor
 Four charades
 Wise Catherine and the kaboute...
 How the stone-age children...
 The man who didn't know when to...
 Puck Parker
 Easter eggs
 A visit to a London dog-show
 Merry rain - Drifted into port
 The three wise women
 Always behindhand
 The three horse-shoes; or, Marshal...
 Tabby's ride
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover


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mods:accessCondition type restrictions on use displayLabel Rights All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
mods:identifier NOTIS ocm0176
OCLC 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
(DLC) 2006255186; 55136171
mods:languageTerm text English
mods:physicalLocation Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in Special Collections, George A. Smathers Libraries
code UF
mods:name personal
mods:namePart Dodge, Mary Mapes
date 1830-1905
mods:roleTerm authority marcrelator Creator
mods:note Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
funding Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
mods:publisher Scribner,
mods:placeTerm New York
mods:dateIssued -c1943.
mods:recordIdentifier source ufdc UF00065513_00059
mods:recordContentSource University of Florida
mods:relatedItem original
mods:extent 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
mods:title St. Nicholas.
mods:detail Enum1
mods:caption Vol. 5
mods:number 5
No. 6
mods:topic Children's literature -- Periodicals.
Literature for Children
St. Nicholas, vol. 5, no. 6
Saint Nicholas
mods:typeOfResource text
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D1 Front Cover
P1 Page
D2 How Kitty was lost in a Turkish bazaar Chapter
P3 Plate
P4 377
P5 378 3
P6 379 4
D4 "I'm little story" Poem
P7 380
D5 Easter Germany
P8 381
P9 382
P10 383
P11 384
P12 385
D6 Dick Hardin away at school
P13 386
P14 387
D7 Under the lilacs
P15 388
P16 389
P17 390
P18 391
P19 392
P20 393
P21 394 7
D8 The swallow
P22 395
D9 wild mustang 8
P23 396
P24 397
D10 April's sunbeam 9
P25 398
D11 Old Nicolai 10
P26 399
P27 400
P28 401
D12 professor 11
P29 402
P30 403
P31 404
P32 405
D13 Four charades 12
P33 406
D14 Wise Catherine and kaboutermanneken 13
P34 407
P35 408
P36 409
P37 410
P38 411
P39 412
D15 stone-age children played 14
P40 413
P41 414
D16 man who didn't know when to stop 15
P42 415
D17 Puck Parker 16
P43 416
P44 417
P45 418
D18 eggs 17
P46 419
D19 A visit London dog-show 18
P47 420
P48 421
P49 422
P50 423
P51 424
D20 Merry rain 19
P52 425 (MULTIPLE)
P53 426
P54 427
P55 428
P56 429
P57 430
P58 431
D21 three wise women 20
P59 432
P60 433
D22 Always behindhand 21
P61 434
P62 435
D23 horse-shoes; or, Marshal de Saxe Dutch blacksmith 22
P63 436
P64 437
D24 Jack-in-the-pulpit 23
P65 438
P66 439
D25 Tabby's ride
P67 440
P68 441
D26 Lullaby 25
P69 442
P70 443
D27 letter-box 26
P71 444
P72 445
D28 riddle-box 27
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St. Nicholas, vol. 5, no. 6
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00059
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas, vol. 5, no. 6
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: UF00065513:00059

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    How Kitty was lost in a Turkish bazaar
        Page 377
        Page 378
        Page 379
    "I'm a little story"
        Page 380
    Easter in Germany
        Page 381
        Page 382
        Page 383
        Page 384
        Page 385
    Dick Hardin away at school
        Page 386
        Page 387
    Under the lilacs
        Page 388
        Page 389
        Page 390
        Page 391
        Page 392
        Page 393
        Page 394
    The swallow
        Page 395
    The wild mustang
        Page 396
        Page 397
    April's sunbeam
        Page 398
    Old Nicolai
        Page 399
        Page 400
        Page 401
    The professor
        Page 402
        Page 403
        Page 404
        Page 405
    Four charades
        Page 406
    Wise Catherine and the kaboutermanneken
        Page 407
        Page 408
        Page 409
        Page 410
        Page 411
        Page 412
    How the stone-age children played
        Page 413
        Page 414
    The man who didn't know when to stop
        Page 415
    Puck Parker
        Page 416
        Page 417
        Page 418
    Easter eggs
        Page 419
    A visit to a London dog-show
        Page 420
        Page 421
        Page 422
        Page 423
        Page 424
    Merry rain - Drifted into port
        Page 425
        Page 426
        Page 427
        Page 428
        Page 429
        Page 430
        Page 431
    The three wise women
        Page 432
        Page 433
    Always behindhand
        Page 434
        Page 435
    The three horse-shoes; or, Marshal de Saxe and the Dutch blacksmith
        Page 436
        Page 437
        Page 438
        Page 439
    Tabby's ride
        Page 440
        Page 441
        Page 442
        Page 443
    The letter-box
        Page 444
        Page 445
    The riddle-box
        Page 446
        Page 447
        Page 448
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


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APRIL, 1878.

No. 6.

[Copyright, 1878, by Scribner & Co.J



KITTY was a pretty little girl, with gray, laugh-
ing eyes, and a dimple in each cheek; but from
the time when she first commenced to toddle alone
she began to be dangerously fond of running away
from home. Let a door be ajar ever so little and
out pattered the tiny feet into the streets of the
crowded city and all sorts of dangers. Papa and
mamma had long consultations of what should be
done to correct this fault, while Aunt Martha,
looking over her spectacles, timidly suggested a
little birch tea; but mamma would not listen to
that. Kitty was too small for any such bitter dose
yet, and papa, who rather admired Aunt Martha's
suggestion, declared finally that his wife must
settle the matter herself-he did n't know how to
train a girl."
So Kitty, left to an indulgent mother, went on
her way, and hardly a day passed but the cry went
from cellar to attic, Kitty is gone !" Nurses
without number came and went; they could
never "stand Miss Kitty's strange ways."
The little one had reached her fifth year without
any serious injury, notwithstanding her unfortunate
habit, when there came a time of great anxiety in
their home, for her mamma was ill, growing paler
and weaker every day. The physicians suggested
a winter in Egypt, and a trip up the Nile; so, one
bright October day, the family, consisting of the
father and mother, with Kitty and her nurse, sailed
away from New York in a steamer bound for
Liverpool. Kitty was delighted with the novelty of
VOL. V.-26.

everything she saw on this grand trip. She did
not once attempt to run away during the whole of
the long journey to Egypt, though all the time,
and especially in Liverpool, Maggie never failed to
keep her under her eye."
On a bright, warm November afternoon they
sailed into the harbor of Alexandria, and Kitty
held tightly to Maggie's hand in open-mouthed
astonishment at the novelty of the scene. Vessels
of all sizes and descriptions thronged the harbor,
carrying crews from many strange nations-Arabs
with long flowing robes and swarthy skins, black
Nubians and portly Turks, all screaming, appar-
ently at the top of their voices. Kitty's mamma
had read to her little girl some stories from the
"Arabian Nights," and now, as they approached
this eastern land, they mingled curiously in her
little brain. They were not long in landing, and as
they drove to the hotel on the Grand Square, Kitty
fairly gave herself up to staring about the streets.
Here came a file of tall camels laden with merchan-
dise, stalking along with silent tread; there rode a
fat Turk on a very small donkey; then followed
several ladies riding upon donkeys, and each wear-
ing the invariable street costume of Egyptian ladies
-a black silk mantle, with a white muslin face-
veil which conceals all the features except the eyes.
Kitty admired the Syce men running before the
carriages to clear the way, and as she looked at
their spangled vests and white, long sleeves waving
backward while they ran, she inwardly wished it



had been her position in life to be a Syce. What
could be more delightful and exciting !
Then there were the palm-trees and the water-
carriers, with their goat-skins of water slung over
their shoulders, and the bazaars-all most interest-
ing to our travelers. But Kitty was too young to
feel more than a dim surprise at the objects around
her. She knew nothing, of course, of the history
of Alexandria, once the first city in the world,
where Euclid presided over the school in mathe-
matics, and Aristotle studied and gave instruction.
Here stood those vast libraries founded by Ptolemy
Soter, which were subsequently destroyed, and
here St. Mark presided over the church of Africa.
Yet all this was unknown to Kitty, who was much
more interested in the good dinner set before her
at the hotel, with its dessert of fresh dates and
great luscious grapes, and the comfortable bed
which received her tired little form that night.
Maggie," said the invalid mother the next
morning, "don't let Kitty go out of your sight.
I 'm so nervous about her."
"Oh no, mum replied Maggie, re-assuringly.
Shure and I'll watch her like a cat does a mouse,"
and the good Irish girl kept her word, so that the
two days spent in Alexandria were disturbed by no
frights concerning Kitty. At last they were off
again, this time in the cars for Cairo. On, on
they went, villages on either hand, and such funny
houses, such as Kitty had never seen before, and
mud hovels with domed roofs, but without windows
and often without doors.
Shure," said Maggie, eyeing these rude dwell-
ing-places with great disdain, it's glad I am that
me mother was not an Egyptian, to bring me up
in a poor hoot like thim."
For a time Kitty gazed wonderingly on the
swiftly passing scenes, but by and by the little
head drooped, the eyelids closed, and Maggie took
the sleeping child into her lap, and let her sleep
there until they reached the railroad station at
Cairo and stepped out into the din and confusion
of the motley crowd. With a bewildered look
Kitty leaned back in the carriage which conveyed
them to the New Hotel, opposite the Esbekiyah
Gardens; then, as they approached the entrance,
she looked up at the great building with its many
balconies and columns, and exclaimed: "It looks
just like a big church organ, mamma."
Many exciting days followed before they left for
their trip up the Nile. The bright sunshine of that
cloudless sky appeared to revive the invalid. It
seemed, she said, as if she could feel it warm in her
lungs and heart, and she brightened so in the
change that they all gathered hope and courage,
and went about on merry little trips to the many
objects of interest around Cairo, before their float-

ing home was ready for their departure. Kitty
made friends of everybody, and had funny panto-
mime conversations with the Arab waiter who
took charge of their rooms, examining curiously
the long blue robe which he wore, and the red fez
with its black tassel on his head. It's awful
funny," she said, "to see people calling the waiters
by clapping their hands instead of ringing a. bell;
I think it's a very strange country !" So say-
ing she would walk up and down the long rooms
with her hands folded behind her as she had seen
her papa do.
Such donkey rides as Kitty and her papa had
over the hard, smooth road leading to the pyra-
mids, with the long shadows of the acacias before
them And then, how she teased him to buy a
donkey for her to take to America i But he only
smiled in reply, saying, in true Arab fashion,
"Bookrer" (to-morrow).
They spent one day in the bazaars buying all
sorts of beautiful sashes, in brilliant colors, of
Turkish embroidery. One bore the Sultan's name
in the Turkish language, worked with gold threads,
and another had the motto, "God is good," worked
in blue and silver. Then there were shawls per-
fectly lovely," said 'the little New York girl, boxes
of sandal-wood that she longed to be smelling of
continually, a pair of slippers and a gold-embroi-
dered smoking cap to be taken home to Uncle
Harry, and a beautiful cloak and table-cover for
Aunt Martha.
But, alas this visit awoke Kitty's long-slumber-
ing propensity, and she determined to watch for a
good opportunity and go alone to that wonderful
bazaar. The opportunity soon came. It was just
after breakfast. Maggie had gone to the laundry
with some of Kitty's white dresses. Papa was
talking with a French gentleman about New York,
while mamma was yet sleeping. "What a splen-
did chance !" whispered Kitty, and catching up her
sailor hat she sped away through a side entrance
and down the Mouski, which is the Broadway of
Cairo. It is a narrow, crowded street, with tall
houses, every story projecting a little over the one
under it, so that if you should lean from a win-
dow of the upper floor you might shake hands
with your opposite neighbor. Kitty's bump of
locality was pretty well developed, and she found
the way to the bazaar without any trouble. In her
chubby hand was clasped a little gold five-franc
piece, which had been given her the previous day,
and visions of glittering treasures which should be
bought with that tiny gold piece floated before her
eyes. She hurried on by the quaint fountains
which are placed at the corners of the bazaars, to
cheer those water-worshiping people, and soon
found herself amid the charms and mysteries of the


bazaar, and in front of the little shops like bow-
windows, with their owners sitting cross-legged in
the midst of their goods, smoking and waiting
indifferently for a customer. Walking toward one
of these turbaned merchants, Kitty said, with a
queer attempt at dignity, "Please show me some
But this clearly spoken sentence was all lost on
the foreign merchant, to whom English was an
unknown language.
Anni mush ariff," said the man, puffing away
at his pipe, and deliberately settling himself among
his cozy cushions, as if for a long and dreamy nap.
Kitty, of course, did not understand Arabic, and
the words, which really signified, I don't under-
stand," sounded to her unpracticed ears like I am
a szcrijf!" a word which was always associated in
the little runaway's mind with policemen, a class
of persons who were to Kitty objects of tyranny
and terror.
Oh, dear," whispered Kitty, '" if he is a sheriff,
may be he'll arrest me and lock me up." So say-
ing she fled from the presence of the astonished
merchant, and darted round a corner through a
motley crowd of donkeys, camels, and beggars
blind and maimed. And now, her momentary
fright over, she entered a still more narrow way,
where were stalls of glittering diamonds set in
every imaginable form, and gems of all sorts and
sizes, arranged in brilliant order. Kitty forgot
everything in her admiration. I mean to buy a
diamond pin. I just dot" she exclaimed, and,
accosting the man, asked the price of a huge
crescent of gems.
'Allah!" cried the man, rousing from his
languor. And then, in his own language, he said
to Kitty: "Little lady, where are you going? Are
your papa and mamma gone?"
Kitty looked silently and wonderingly at the
kind-hearted merchant a moment, and then her
little mind began to realize that she was among a
strange people who could not understand a word
that she might say. The tears began to come in
the gray eyes, and turning, she said, "I will go
home." But which way? Her little head grew
bewildered, and, to crown all, an immense camel
stalking along with silent tread nearly stepped on
her little foot. She cried in earnest now, and the
merchant kindly lifted her up beside him on a soft,
Turkish rug, right in the midst of the flashing
Quite a crowd had gathered now, listening
eagerly while the man pictured in earnest language
the position of the lost child. But none knew
little Kitty; not a soul could speak to her in all
that motley crowd of camel drivers, donkey boys,
beggars, milkmen with their goats, merchants and

dark-eyed women wrapped in their mantles and
veils. There was none to help her. Suddenly,
out from the crowd came a young Arab boy, one
of those little fellows who carry about with them a
vest full of snakes, exhibiting them for a living in
front of hotels and other public places.
"Me know she!" he cried, as his eyes fell on
the little girl sitting there on the rich Turkish
carpet, her soft, golden hair floating around her,
more beautiful than all the merchant's gold and
The boy rapidly addressed the merchant, Kitty
catching at the words, and trying in vain to under-
stand them. They seemed to satisfy the merchant,
however, and then the boy, pushing down a rest-
less snake into its retreat, advanced to the troubled
"You Americano," he said. "Me see you in
New Hotel. You want see papa? Me tek you."
Kitty started up delighted; but at the sight of
that inquisitive snake making its re-appearance from
the boy's pocket, she retreated and sat down again
amid the jewels. The merchant laughed. She
likes my diamonds, Mahomet, better than your
ugly reptiles." Then, taking a little gold ring set
with a small blue turquoise, he placed it on Kitty's
first finger and lifted her off the carpet, calling as
he did so to a passing donkey boy, and giving
him some hurried instructions. Kitty smiled her
thanks for her pretty ring, and seeing the snake
boy looking fiercely at the donkey boy, who had
lifted her into the saddle, Come, too," she said,
'"you can talk, and this boy can't." So the two
boys ran alongside of the donkey, watching care-
fully lest the little rider should fall; and very soon
they emerged from the bazaar and were galloping
along the Mouski.
}Ieantime, Kitty's absence had been discovered
at the hotel, and great excitement followed. Her
mamma fainted, and Maggie wrung her hands in
anxiety and despair. Her papa alone was cool and
She has run away so many times," said he,
quietly, that I have no doubt she will come home
safely, as always before."
Nevertheless, he dispatched messengers without
number here and there, and looked anxiously out
into the streets for that dear little yellow head he
so loved. It was nearly noon when he saw it-the
bright sun glaring down on the tired little face
under the sailor hat. He was going to be very
stern as he lifted his naughty child from the saddle,
but she looked so repentant, putting up her quiver-
ing lips for a forgiving kiss, that somehow his
anger fled away and he gave her the pardoning
caress. The two boys were sent away happy, with
a generous baksheesh or present, and the next day




Kitty's father sought out the kind-hearted jewel
merchant and bought many a gem from his choice
collection. Among them was a locket for Kitty, in
which he then placed his own and her mother's
Kitty," he said, gravely, as he hung the pretty
thing about her neck, when you are tempted to

do wrong, open this locket, and think how it will
pain two hearts that love you."
"Papa," said the repentant Kitty, "I never will
run away again."
And she kept her word. So it came to pass
that our little heroine lost her evil propensity in
the Turkish bazaar at Cairo.



-i .&,: -

4 ," "! - ..


-; .-~P ---F

You'D never guess what 't was I found
One morning in my basket;
Oh such a precious, precious gem
For such a funny casket.

Gem, did I say ? A wealth of gems:
Sweet eyes of sapphire brightness,
And, twixtt two lips of coral red,
Pearls dazzling in their whiteness.

And gold was there on waving hair,
And lilies too, and roses
On rounded cheeks, and dimpled chin
And cunningest of noses.

" In here, mamma," the darling cried.
Look I 'm a little story;
The one you did n't like, you know-
'Prince Bee and Morning Glory.'

" And Rover, he's a jingle, torn
'Cause he went wrong-poor Rover
But I'm real pretty. Wont you take
Me out and write me over?"

I kissed the laughing eyes and mouth.
My pet, you need not ask it;
No story sweet as you must stay
In mamma's old waste-basket "





OH, look look! all those pretty little Easter
things in the window already exclaimed my little
sister one day, as we passed one of the largest
confectionery stores in Stuttgart; and, true enough,
though Lent was but half over, there they were, a
pretty show. Eggs, of course, in quantities and of
all sizes, from that of an ostrich to a humming
bird's, made of chocolate or of sugar, and gayly
decorated with little ribbons and pictures. Then
there were fat little unfledged chickens, some just
emerging from their shells, some not an inch
long, and others large as life; pure white lambs,
with ribbons and bells round their necks; paste-
eggs, with holes at the ends, and, looking through,
behold, a panorama inside and eggs with roses
on one side, which, when blown upon, emit a
musical sound.
But odder than all these were the goats playing
on guitars, or dragging behind them fairy-like egg-
shaped carriages, with little hares gravely driving;
and in others of these carriages were reclining one
or two (generally two) baby hares, or a hare mother
rocking her little one in an egg cradle ; there were
sugar balloons, in the baskets of which hares watched
over their nests full of eggs; wheelbarrows full of
eggs, and trundled by a hare; and dainty baskets of
flowers, with birds perched upon each handle, peer-
ing down into nests of eggs half hidden amidst the
blossoms. When one knows that each nest comes

begin to appear. Every old woman in the market-
place offers for sale a store of hard-boiled eggs,
smeared over with some highly colored varnish,
besides candy chickens,
hares, etc., in abun-
S dance. All the various
shop windows display
pretty emblematic arti-
I cles. Besides the sugar
i and chocolate eggs,
there are eggs of soap
and of glass; 'egg-
shaped baskets and ret-
.' 'icules ; leather eggs,
,' which really are ladies'
S iI iiiI .!I companions, and filled
III _iI Jii,_ i_ i with sewing imple-
_-_-_- -- ments; wooden eggs
and porcelain eggs, and
even egg-shaped lock-
AN EASTER FANCY. ets made of solid gold.
It would be difficult to explain why these things
appear at Easter, and what they all mean. The
eggs, as every one knows, we have at home, and
where they are in such abundance chickens will
not be very far away. For the lamb and the goat
we can find scriptural interpretations, but the
rabbit and the hare-what can they have to do
with Easter? Nine persons out of ten can only


out, and forms the cover to a box of bonbocns neatly
concealed underneath, this pretty structure cer-
tainlv loses none of its attractiveness.
In all directions signs of the approaching season

answer, The hares lay the Easter eggs." Queer
hares they must be, indeed, but the children here
believe it as devoutly as they do that the Christ-
kind brings their Christmnas presents, or as our



own little ones do in Santa Claus. No one knows
exactly whence came this myth. Many think it
a relic of heathen worship; but a writer named

Christoph von Schmid, in an interesting story for
children, suggests this much prettier origin:
Many hundred years ago, a good and noble lady,
Duchess Rosilinda von Lindenburg, at a time
when a cruel war was devastating the land, was
obliged to fly from her beautiful home accompanied
only by her two little children and one old man-
They found refuge in a small mining village in
the mountains, where the simple but contented
and happy inhabitants did what they could for
their comfort, and placed the best of all they had
at the disposal of the wanderers. Nevertheless,
their fare was miserable; no meat was ever to be
found, seldom fish, and not even an egg; this last
for the very good reason that there was not a single
hen in the village! These useful domestic fowls,
now so common everywhere, were originally brought
from the East, and had not yet found their way to
this secluded place. The people had not even
heard of such "strange birds." This troubled the
kind duchess, who well knew the great help they
are in housekeeping, and she determined that the
women who had been so kind to her should no
longer be without them.
Accordingly, the next time she sent forth her
faithful old servant to try and gather news of his
master and of the progress of the war, she commis-
sioned him to bring back with him a coop full of
fowls. This he did, to the great surprise of the
simple natives, and the village children were greatly
excited a few weeks later at the appearance of a
brood of young chickens. They were so pretty
and bright, were covered with such a soft down,
were so open-eyed, and could run about after their

mother to pick up food the very first day, and were
altogether such a contrast to the blind, bald,
unfledged, helpless, ugly little birds they some-
times saw in nests in the hedges, that they
could not find words enough to express their
The good lady now saved up eggs for some
time, then invited all the housewives of the vil-
lage to a feast, when she set before them eggs
cooked in a variety of ways. She then taught
them how to prepare them for themselves, and,
distributing a number of fowls among them,
sent the dames home grateful and happy.
: When Easter approached, she was anxious to
a arrange some pleasure for the village children,
but had nothing to give them, "not even an
apple or a nut," only some eggs; but that, she
concluded, was, after all, an appropriate offer-
ing, "as an egg is the first gift of the reviving
spring." And then it occurred to her to boil
them with mosses and roots that would give them
a variety of brilliant colors, as the earth," said
she, "has just laid aside her white mantle, and
decorated herself with many colors; for the dear
God makes the fruit and berries not only good to
eat, but also pleasant to look upon," and the chil-
dren's pleasure would be all the greater.
Accordingly, on Easter Sunday, after the church
service, all the little ones of about the age of her
own met together in a garden; and, when their
kind hostess had talked to them a while, she led
them into a small neighboring wood. There she
told them to make nests of moss, and advised each
to mark well his or her own. All then returned to
the garden, where a feast of milk-soup with eggs
and egg-cakes had been prepared. Afterward


they went back to the wood, and found to their
great joy in each nest five beautiful colored eggs,
and on one of these a short rhyme was written.



The surprise and delight of the little ones when
they discovered a nest of the gayly colored treas-
ures, was very great, and one of them exclaimed:
"How wonderful the hens must be that can
lay such pretty eggs! How I should like to see
them !"
"Oh no hens could lay such beautiful eggs,"
answered a little girl. I think it must have been

back to their own palace; but, before leaving, the
Duchess set apart a sum of money to be expended
in giving the village children every Easter a feast
of eggs. She instituted the custom also in her
own duchy, and by degrees it spread over the
whole country, the eggs being considered a symbol
of redemption or deliverance from sin. The cus-
tom has found its way even to America, but

the little hare that sprang out of the juniper bush nowhere out of the Vaterlanld are the eggs laid by
when I wanted to build my nest there." the timid hare.
Then all the children laughed together, and To this day children living in the country go to
said, The hares lay the colored eggs. Yes, yes the woods just before Easter, and return with their
the dear little hares lay the beautiful eggs And arms full of twigs and moss, out of which they
they kept repeating it till they began really to build nests and houses, each child carefully mark-
believe it. ing his own with his name. They are then hidden
Not long afterward the war ended, and Duke behind stones and bushes in the garden, or, if the
Arno von Lindenburg took his wife and children weather be cold, in corners, or under furniture in



the house. And on Easter morning what an by the peasantry in many parts of the country.
excitement there is to see what the good little hare Weddings are often deferred to this day, and many
has brought! Not only real eggs boiled and village games are reserved for this season. The

a^ :" v ll

cAP' r

77 1>1
,,r ,-- -2 ,." .', . O1 O, R I -
~ H- .R ,IV '- t O F S

colored, but sugar ones too, and often wooden ones
that open like boxes, disclosing, perhaps, a pair of
new gloves or a bright ribbon. He even sometimes
brings hoops and skipping-ropes, and generally his
own effigy in dough or candy is found trying to
scamper away behind the nest.
Then what fun they have playing with the eggs,
throwing them in the air and catching them again,
rolling them on the floor, exchanging with each
other, and knocking them This game is played
by two, each child holding an egg firmly in his
hand, so that only the small end appears between
the thumb and forefinger, or under the little finger.
The two eggs then are knocked smartly against
each other until one cracks, when it becomes the
property of the victorious party, who adds it to
his stock. Those who have never tried to break
an egg in this way will be astonished to find how
many hard taps it is able to stand. But, as the
game called "picking eggs" is played in some
parts of the United States during the Easter holi-
days, it may be that many of our readers know all
about this matter, and understand very well how
to select the eggs that shall prove strong and
In Germany, presents are frequently bestowed
upon servants at this season, and exchanged be-
tween friends ; and on Easter morning the churches
are crowded by many who scarcely ever think of
entering at any other time. On Good Friday only,
considered here the holiest day in the whole year,
are they still more largely attended. The music
is usually fine, but one misses the beautiful flowers
which adorn our home altars.
Easter Monday is looked upon as a grand holiday

lads and lassies all appear in their gala costumes;
the girls with short, dark skirts, braided with gold
or silver, snowy aprons and full white sleeves,
bright colored bodices and odd little caps; the
boys with knee-breeches, white stockings, low
shoes, and scarlet or yellow vests, the solid gold or


S ilt IOR V
silver buttons on which are often their whole in-
heritance. But when they are dancing gayly
together on the green, they look a good deal hap-
pier than if they were little kings and queens.
Games vary in different villages throughout the
country, but one example will give some idea of
what they are like.



Two of the leading young men of the place take
entire charge of the day's amusements, selecting
for the purpose as the scene of festivities some inn
or Wirthschaft, to which is attached a large garden
or meadow.
For several preceding evenings, when work is
over, they go about from house to house, dressed
in their best, and carrying large baskets on their
arms. Everywhere they are kindly received, and
bread with wine or cider is placed before them.
While they cat and drink, the baskets are quietly
slipped away by some member of the family, a
generous donation of eggs is placed within them,
and they are secretly returned to their places. The
eggs are not asked for, neither are they alluded to
in any way; but the object of the visit is well
understood and prepared for long beforehand.
When Monday morning dawns, the inn is found
to have been gayly decorated with garlands of green
and flowers, and fluttering ribbons of many colors.
The tree nearest the house is ornamented in like
manner, and on it the prize to be contended for,
conspicuously hangs. On the smooth grass hard
by, a strip, a few feet wide and perhaps a hundred
long, has been roped in, and at either end of
this narrow plot a large, shallow, round-bottomed
basket, called a Wanne, is placed, one filled with


chaff and the other with eggs, dozens upon dozens,
cooked and raw, white and colored.
The plan of the peculiar game which follows is
that one player is pitted to run a given distance,

while another safely throws the eggs from one
basket to the other, he who first completes his task
being, of course, the winner. Accordingly, when

. . "
'. 1-,-


the young men and maidens have arrived, two
leaders draw lots to determine who shall run and
who shall throw. That decided, the contestants
are gayly decked with ribbons, a band strikes up a
lively air, a capering clown clears the way, and the
game begins. He who throws takes the eggs, and
one after another swiftly whirls them the length of
the course, and into the chaff-filled basket, which
is held in the hands of an assistant. Occasionally
he makes a diversion by pitching a hard one to be
scrambled for by the crowds of children who have
assembled to see the sport. Meantime (while
wagers are laid as to who will likely win) the other
contestant speeds the distance of a mile or two to
an appointed goal, marks it as proof of his having
touched it, and if he succeeds in returning before
all the eggs are thrown, the victory and the prize
are his, otherwise they belong to his opponent.
The game finished, the prize is presented to the
victor with due ceremony and amid the cheers of
the crowd; the hard eggs are distributed among
the company, and the raw ones carried uproariously
into the neighboring inn, there to be cooked in
various ways and eaten.
The remainder of the day is spent in dancing
and merry-making, and if a wedding can possibly
be arranged to take place on that afternoon the
fun is wilder than ever.







September pt9, 1877.
DEAR MOTHER : I don't feel very well. I want
to come home. I am very sick. I could not eat
any supper. My throat aches pretty bad. I think
I had better come home. The boy that sleeps
with me says most all boys feels so at first; but
may be I shall die. I want to come home. I will
study good at home. So good-by.-Your son,
P. S.-I want to come home. DICK.

October 26, 1877.
DEAR MOTHER: Me and the boy that sleeps
with me put a peace of paper on the door, and that
made me feel better. I got the ten cents and your
letter. I had to buy some pop-corn. All the boys
buy pop-corn. A man has pop-corn to sell. Jim
gave me some pop-corn that time my throat had a
lump in it, and it felt better. It was red, and all
sticky together. I think that was why.
It's a buster of a house here, and it's got a bell
on top of it. A boy rings it. It comes right down
in his closet. It comes through a little round hole,
and he pulls it, and he let me pull it once, and that
makes it ring. There's lots of boys here, and
some girls. There is doves living up where the
bell is. I went up there. They kind of groan,
and that is coon, when they coo. I like the doves,
but I don't like their coon. Every boy writes their
names up there. Sometimes they cuts their names,
but Mr. Wiseman says you must n't any more.
Mr. Wiseman is the Principle, and he has got
whiskers, and every boy has to mind him.
He points and he says, "Go to your rooms "
and we go. Some boy sent him a paper, and it
made him hoppin' mad. It was about a clock. It
said :
Half way up the stairs he stands,
And points and beckons with his hands."
Jimmy has a room, and he sweeps it sometimes.
I sleep with Jimmy. There is n't any woman to
make up the bedclothes. We fix 'em. It is n't
very hard. You just pull them up and tuck them
down. There is a gong, and that makes you get
up and eat breakfast. The breakfast is good. It
is a round thing, and a girl pounds it. You put
five tea-spoons of sugar in your tea-cup. A girl
sits on the other side. There is lots of tables, and
they make a noise. By and by, one gets through
and walks out. There is a lock on the door, and
that makes you hurry up or you can't have any
breakfast. You can't get in. The ten cents is

'most gone. I hope you will write me again pretty
soon.-Your son, DICKERSON H.
P. S.-The peace of paper has got the days on
it, and we scratch them off every night. There is
sixty-one more to scratch off, and that will make it
vacation. D. H.

November 1877.
DEAR MOTHER: There is'bout ten pianos here,
and folks play on them all the while. It sounds
pretty. You can't tell what tune they play 'most
always. Mr. Wiseman has an office, and that's
where you have to go when you want to do things.
Sometimes you have to go when you don't want to
do things. He sits in a chair and his legs go under*
the table. There's a square hole where his legs
go. It has a slate on it, and he writes your name
on it. It don't feel good. You ought to have seen
Jim one day. He fell into the river, but he got
out. There is a river. He had the cookies in his
pocket. They were just as good, except the soap.
He had some soap too, and that was n't very good.
Jim did n't get dry pretty soon, and he had the
neuraligy or the toothache. The side of his cheek
swelled out as big as a foot-ball. He went to the
office. He was sicker. I made up the bed for a
week, and he felt better. We went in swimming
five times yesterday. We have to treat. All men
have to treat. It's molasses-candy and it's pop-
corn. To treat is to pay for what a another feller
eats. The button come off of my shirt. I lost it,
but I sewed on one of the black ones like the ones
on my jacket. The place to sew it on came out
too, but I sewed it one side. It made my thumb
bleed.-Your son, DICKERSON HARDIN.

November 17, 1877.
DEAR MOTHER : Jim has got a box. His mother
sent it to him. The other boys have boxes. We
have to have boxes, 'cause they have hash that is
made out of boots. It is not good to eat. The
soup tastes like a tooth-pick. The butter is a
thousand years old. A girl said so. If I should
have a box, I think it would be good for me. Put
in some cookies and some apples and cake and
cheese and chicken-pie and a neck-tie and apple-
pie and fruit-cake and that other kind of jelly-cake
and some cookies and stockings and cans of fruit
and fish-hooks and pop-corn and molasses and
cookies. Jim found a half a dollar in his box,


down to the bottom. It was for his neuraligy.
My throat is not quite well yet.
I take drawing. There is a nice lady to teach it.
She wears a white sack with red pockets, and a blue
bow. She pulls her hair down over her head. She
says we must draw things, when we look at them.
I drew a dog, but it came out a lamb. I can make
a very nice bird. Jim put the feathers on to the
Mr. Wiseman has got some snakes in some
bottles, and a frog and a toad. He has got some
grasshoppers with a pin stuck through them, and
a spider and some potato-bugs. It is the museum.
He thinks a great deal of them.
There is a foot-ball, and we play it. It is as big
as a pumpkin, but you kick it. Then you get
kicked and knocked down and your leg hurt; but
you don't cry. You never cry except when Jim 's
asleep in the night, and your throat aches pretty
There is twenty-four more days on the peace of
Give my love to Tooty. How is the baby?-
Your son, D. HARDIN.

December 2, I877.
DEAR MOTHER: It is not a very big town.
There is one store where you treat. It is Jerry's.
You walk right in. Jerry has molasses-candy and
pop-corn and pea-nuts and string and oranges and
canes and brooms and raisins and ginger-snaps and

apples and fish-hooks and pise. Jim bought a pie
once. It was wet, and you had to bite hard to bite
it. He got it for the lock-jaw. A lock-jaw is a
supper, but Mr. Wiseman don't catch us. It is at
night. We had a chicken, but I promised I would
not tell where it came from. I will die before I
will tell. All the boys will die before they will tell.
It was the big boys, and they put a blanket up to
the window and made a fire and roasted it. We
had some salt and a jack-knife. John Simms
roasted it. He's a big boy. He knows how. He
always roasts things. You just stick a sharp stick
through it and roast it. It is good, but it makes
your stummuck feel funny in the morning. There
is a another store, where the girls get things, and
there is a place to get your shoes mended, and a
depot, and a place for horse-shoes, and a church.
The box was very good. So good-by. D.
P. S.-Mr. Wiseman said you'd feel bad about
these three demerits in my report, but you need n't.
Jim has got about ten demerits. All the boys gets
demerits. One was a old bottle I threw in the hall,
'cause I did n't want it on the table, and one was
some water I threw out the window, and a boy was
walking under. I had just washed me, and he got
wet, and one was a noise. You make it with a tin
tomato-can and a string. I'll fix one for you when
I get home. The bottom has come out of my
bank. And my trousers, the gray ones. How is
the baby ? HARDIN.
P. S.-All the boys say Hardin.





AIRS. MOSs woke Ben with a kiss next morning,
for her heart yearned over the fatherless lad as if
he had been her own, and she had no other way
of showing her sympathy. Ben had forgotten his
troubles in sleep, but the memory of them returned
as soon as he opened his eyes, heavy with the
tears they had shed. He did not cry any more,
but felt strange and lonely till he called Sancho
and told him all about it, for he was shy even with
kind Mrs. Moss, and glad when she went away.
Sancho seemed to understand that his master
was in trouble, and listened to the sad little story
with gurgles of interest, whines of condolence, and
intelligent barks whenever the word Daddy was
uttered. He was only a brute, but his dumb affec-
tion comforted the boy more than any words, for
Sanch had known and loved "father" almost as
long and well as his son, and that seemed to draw
them closely together now they were left alone.
"We must put on mourning, old feller. It 's
the proper thing, and there 's nobody else to do it
now," said Ben, as he dressed, remembering how
all the company wore bits of crape somewhere
about them at Melia's funeral.
It was a real sacrifice of boyish vanity to take
the blue ribbon with its silver anchors off the new
hat and replace it with the dingy black band from
the old one, but Ben was quite sincere in doing
this, though doubtless his theatrical life made him
think of the effect more than other lads would have
done. He could find nothing in his limited ward-
robe with which to decorate Sanch except a black
cambric pocket. It was already half torn out of
his trousers with the weight of nails, pebbles and
other light trifles, so he gave it a final wrench and
tied it into the dog's collar, saying to himself, as
he put away his treasures, with a sigh:
One pocket is enough; I sha'n't want anything
but a han'k'chi'f to-day."
Fortunately, that article of dress was clean, for
le had but one, and with this somewhat ostenta-
tiously drooping from the solitary pocket, the
serious hat upon his head, the new shoes creaking
mournfully, and Sanch gravely following, much
impressed with his black bow, the chief mourner
descended, feeling that he had done his best to
show respect to the dead.
Mrs. Moss's eyes filled as she saw the rusty

band, and guessed why it was there ; but she found
it difficult to repress a smile when she beheld the
cambric symbol of woe on the dog's neck. Not a
word was said to disturb the boy's comfort in these
poor attempts, however, and he went out to do his
chores conscious that he was an object of interest
to his friends, especially so to Bab and Betty, who,
having been told of Ben's loss, now regarded him
with a sort of pitying awe very grateful to his
I want you to drive me to church by and by.
It is going to be pretty warm, and Thorny is hardly
strong enough to venture yet," said Miss Celia,
when Ben ran over after breakfast to see if she had
anything for him to do, for he considered her his
mistress now, though he was not to take possession
of his new quarters till the morrow.
Yes 'm, I 'd like to, if I look well enough,"
answered Ben, pleased to be asked, but impressed
with the idea that people had to be very fine on
such occasions.
You will do very well when I have given you a
touch. God does n't mind our clothes, Ben, and
the poor are as welcome as the rich to Him. You
have not been much, have you?" asked Miss
Celia, anxious to help the boy, and not quite sure
how to begin.
"'No 'm; our folks did n't hardly ever go, and
father was so tired he used to rest Sundays, or go
off in the woods with me."
A little quaver came into Ben's voice as he
spoke, and a sudden motion made his hat-brim
hide his eyes, for the thought of the happy times
that would never come any more was almost too
much for him.
"That was a pleasant way to rest. I often do
so, and we will go to the grove this afternoon and
try it. But I love to go to church in the morning;
it seems to start me right for the week, and if one
has a sorrow, that is the place where one can
always find comfort. Will you come and try it, Ben,
dear ?"
I 'd do anything to please you," muttered Ben,
without looking up, for, though he felt her kind-
ness to the bottom of his heart, he did wish that
no one would talk about father for a little while, it
was so hard to keep from crying, and he hated to
be a baby.
Miss Celia seemed to understand, for the next
thing she said, in a very cheerful tone, was, See
what a pretty thing that is. When I was a little






girl I used to think spiders spun cloth for the
fairies, and spread it on the grass to bleach."
Ben stopped ..i,. .- ;, a hole in the ground with
his toe, and looked up, to see a lovely cobweb like
a wheel, circle within circle, spun across a corner
of the arch over the gate. Tiny drops glittered on
every thread as the light shone through the gossa-
mer curtain, and a soft breath of air made it
tremble as if about to blow it away.
"It's mighty pretty, but it will fly off, just as
the others did. I never saw such a chap as that
spider is. He keeps on spinning a new one every
day, for they always get broke, and he don't seem
to be discouraged a mite," said Ben, glad to
change the subject, as she knew he would be.
That is the way he gets his living. He spins
his web and waits for his daily bread, or fly, rather,
and it always comes, I fancy. By and by you will
see that pretty trap full of insects, and Mr. Spider
will lay up his provisions for the day. After that
he does n't care how soon his fine web blows
I know him; he 's a handsome feller, all black
and yellow, and lives up in that corner where the
shiny sort of hole is. He dives down the minute I
touch the gate, but comes up after I 've kept still a
minute. I like to watch him. But he must hate
me, for I took away a nice green fly and some
little millers one day."
Did you ever hear the story of Bruce and his
spider? Most children know and like that," said
Miss Celia, seeing that he seemed interested.
"No 'm; I don't know ever so many things
most children do," answered Ben, soberly, for since
he had been among his new friends he had often
felt his own deficiencies.
"Ah, but you also know many things which
they do not. Half the boys in town would give a
great deal to be able to ride and run and leap as
you do, and even the oldest are not as capable of
taking care of themselves as you are. Your active
life has done much in some ways to make a man
of you, but in other ways it was bad, as I think
you begin to see. Now, suppose you try to forget
the harmful past, and remember only the good,
while learning to be more like our boys, who go to
school and church, and fit themselves to become
industrious, honest men."
Ben had been looking straight up in Miss Celia's
face as she spoke, feeling that every word was true,
though he could not have expressed it if he had
tried, and when she paused, with her bright eyes
inquiringly fixed on his, he answered heartily:
"I'd like to stay here and be respectable, for,
since I came, I 've found out that folks don't think
much of circus riders, though they like to go and
see 'em. I did n't use to care about school and

such things, but I do now, and I guess he'd like it
better than to have me knocking' round that way
without him to look after me."
"I know he would; so we will try, Benny. I
dare say it will seem dull and hard at first, after
the gay sort of life you have led, and you will miss
the excitement. But it was not good for you, and
we will do our best to find something safer. Don't
be discouraged, and, when things trouble you,
come to me as Thorny does, and I '11 try to
straighten them out for you. I 've got two boys
now, and I want to do my duty by both."
Before Ben had time for more than a grateful
look, a tumbled head appeared at an upper win-
dow, and a sleepy voice drawled out:
Celia! I can't find a bit of a shoe-string, and
I wish you 'd come and do my neck-tie."
Lazy boy, come down here, and bring one of
your black ties with you. Shoe-strings are in the
little. brown bag on my bureau," called back Miss
Celia, adding, with a laugh, as the tumbled head
disappeared mumbling something about "bother-
ing old bags":
Thorny has been half spoiled since he was ill.
You must n't mind his fidgets and dawdling ways.
He 'll get over them soon, and then I know you
two will be good friends."
Ben had his doubts about that, but resolved to
do his best for her sake; so, when Master Thorny
presently appeared, with a careless How are you,
Ben," that young person answered respectfully,
"Very well, thank you," though his nod was as
condescending as his new master's; because he felt
that a boy who could ride bareback and turn a
double somersault in the air ought not to "'knuckle
under" to a fellow who had not the strength of a
"Sailor's knot, please; keeps better so," said
Thorny, holding up his chin to have a blue silk
scarf tied to suit him, for he was already beginning
to be something of a dandy.
You ought to wear red till you get more color,
dear," and his sister rubbed her blooming cheek
against his pale one as if to lend him some of her
own roses.
"Men don't care how they look," said Thorny,
squirming out of her hold, for he hated to be
"cuddled" before people.
"Oh, don't they; here 's a vain boy who
brushes his hair a dozen times a day, and quiddles
over his collar till he is so tired he can hardly
stand," laughed Miss Celia, with a little tweak of
the ear.
"I should like to know what this is for?" de-
manded Thorny, in a dignified tone, presenting a
black tie.
"For my other boy. He is going to church


with me," and Miss Celia tied a second knot for
this young gentleman, with a smile that seemed to
brighten up even the rusty hat-band.
"Well, I like that -- began Thorny, in a
tone that contradicted his words.
A look from his sister reminded him of what she
had told him half an hour ago, and he stopped
short, understanding now why she was "extra
good to the little tramp."
So do I, for you are of no use as a driver yet,
and I don't like to fasten Lita when I have my
best gloves on," said Miss Celia, in a tone that
rather nettled Master Thorny.
"Is Ben going to black my boots before he
goes?" with a glance at the new shoes which
caused them to creak uneasily.
No, he is going to black mine, if he will. You
wont need boots for a week yet, so we wont waste
any time over them. You will find everything in
the shed, Ben, and at ten you may go for Lita."
With that, Miss Celia walked her brother off to
the dining-room, and Ben retired to vent his ire in
such energetic demonstrations with the blacking-
brush that the little boots shone splendidly.
He thought he had never seen anything as pretty
as his mistress when, an hour later, she came out
of the house in her white shawl and bonnet, hold-
ing a book and a late lily-of-the-valley in the pearl-
colored gloves, which he hardly dared to touch
as he helped her into the carriage. He had
seen a good many fine ladies in his life, and those
he had known had been very gay in the colors of
their hats and gowns, very fond of cheap jewelry.
and much given to feathers, lace and furbelows, so
it rather puzzled him to discover why Miss Celia
looked so sweet and elegant in such a simple suit.
He did not know then that the charm was in the
woman, not the clothes, or that merely living near
such a person would do more to give him gentle
manners, good principles and pure thoughts, than
almost any other training he could have had. But
he was conscious that it was pleasant to be there,
neatly dressed, in good company, and going to
church like a respectable boy. Somehow, the
lonely feeling got better as he rolled along between
green fields, with the June sunshine brightening
everything, a restful quiet in the air, and a friend
beside him who sat silently looking out at the
lovely world with what he afterward learned to call
her Sunday face." A soft, happy look, as if all
the work and weariness of the past week were
forgotten, and she was ready to begin afresh when
this blessed day was over.
"Well, child, what is it?" she asked, catching
his eye as he stole a shy glance at her, one of
many which she had not seen.
"I was only thinking you looked as if-- "

"As if what? Don't be afraid," she said, for
Ben paused and fumbled at the reins, feeling half
ashamed to tell his fancy.
"You was saying prayers." he added, wishing
she had not caught him.
So I was. Don't you, when you are happy?"
No 'm. I 'm glad, but I don't say anything."
Words are not needed, but they help, some-
times, if they are sincere and sweet. Did you
never learn any prayers, Ben ?"
"Only 'Now I lay me.' Grandma taught me
that when I was a little mite of a boy."
I will teach you another, the best that was ever
made, because it says all we need ask."
Our folks was n't very pious; they did n't have
time, I s'pose."
"I wonder if you know just what it means to be
Goin' to church, and reading' the Bible, and
saying' prayers and hymns, aint it ?"
Those things are a part of it, but, being kind
and cheerful, doing one's duty, helping others and
loving God, is the best way to show that we are
pious in the true sense of the word."
Then you are !" and Ben looked as if her acts
had been a better definition than her words.
I try to be, but I very often fail, so every Sun-
day I make new resolutions, and work hard to
keep them through the week. That is a great
help, as you will find when you begin to try it."
"Do you think, if I said in meeting 'I wont
ever swear any more,' that I would n't do it again?"
asked Ben, soberly, for that was his besetting sin
just now.
I 'm afraid we can't get rid of our faults quite
so easily; I wish we could; but I do believe that
if you keep saying that, and trying to stop, you
will cure the habit sooner than you think."
I never did swear very bad, and I did n't mind
much till I came here, but Bab and Betty looked
so scared when I said 'damn,' and Mrs. Moss
scolded me so, I tried to leave off. It's dreadful
hard, though, when I get mad. 'Hang it,' don't
seem half so good if I want to let off steam."
Thorny used to 'confound!' everything, so I
proposed that he should whistle instead, and now he
sometimes pipes up so suddenly and shrilly that it
makes me jump. How would that do, instead of
swearing?" proposed Miss Celia, not the least sur-
prised at the habit of profanity which the boy could
hardly help learning among his former associates.
Ben laughed, and promised to try it, feeling a
mischievous satisfaction at the prospect of out-
whistling Master Thorny, as he knew he should,
for the objectionable words rose to his lips a dozen
times a day.
The bell was ringing as they drove into town,



and by the time Lita was comfortably settled in her
shed, people were coming up from all quarters to
cluster around the steps of the old meeting-house
like bees about a hive. Accustomed to a tent
where people kept their hats on, Ben forgot all
about his, and was going down the aisle covered
when a gentle hand took it off, and Miss Celia
whispered, as she gave it to him:
This is a holy place; remember that, and un-
cover at the door."
Much abashed, Ben followed to the pew, where
the Squire and his wife soon joined them.
Glad to see him here," said the old gentleman
with an approving nod, as he recognized the boy
and remembered his loss.
Hope he wont nestle round in meeting-time,"
whispered Mrs. Alien, composing herself in the
corner with much rustling of black silk.
I'll take care that he does n't disturb you,"
answered Miss Celia, pushing a stool under the short
legs and drawing a palm-leaf fan within reach.
Ben gave an inward sigh at the prospect before
him, for an hour's captivity to an active lad. is hard
to bear, and he really did want to behave well.
So he folded his arms and sat like a statue, with
nothing moving but his eyes. They rolled to and
fro, up and down, from the high red pulpit to the
worn hymn-books in the rack, recognizing two
little faces under blue-ribboned hats in a distant
pew, and finding it impossible to restrain a moment-
ary twinkle in return for the solemn wink Bill)'
Barton bestowed upon him across the aisle. Ten
minutes of this decorous demeanor made it abso-
lutely necessary for him to stir; so he unfolded his
arms and crossed his legs as cautiously as a mouse
moves in the presence of a cat, for Mrs. Allen's eye
was on him, and he knew by experience that it was
a very sharp one.
The music which presently began was a great
relief to him, for under cover of it he could wag
his foot and no one heard the creak thereof; and
when they stood up to sing, he was so sure that all
the boys were looking at him, he was glad to sit
down again. The good old minister read the six-
teenth chapter of Samuel, and then proceeded too
preach a long and somewhat dull sermon. Ben
listened with all his ears, for he was interested in
the young shepherd, "ruddy and of a beautiful
countenance," who was chosen to be Saul's armor-
bearer. He wanted to hear more about him, and
how he got on, and whether the evil spirits troubled
Saul again after David had harped them out. But
nothing more came, and the old gentleman droned
on about other things till poor Ben felt that he
must either go to sleep like the Squire, or tip the
stool over by accident, since "nestling" was for-
bidden, and relief of some sort he must have.

Mrs. Alien gave him a peppermint, and he duti-
fully ate it, though it was so hot it made his eyes
water. Then she fanned him, to his great annoy-
ance, for it blew his hair about, and the pride of
his life was to have his head as smooth and shiny
as black satin. An irrepressible sigh of weariness
attracted Miss Celia's attention at last, for, though
she seemed to be listening devoutly, her thoughts
had flown over the sea with tender prayers for one
whom she loved even more than David did his
Jonathan. She guessed the trouble in a minute,
and had provided for it, knowing by experience
that few small boys can keep quiet.through sermon-
time. Finding a certain place in the little book
she had brought, she put it into his hands, with
the whisper, Read if you are tired."
Ben clutched the book and gladly obeyed, though
the title, Scripture Narratives," did not look very
inviting. Then his eye fell on the picture of a
slender youth cutting a large man's head off, while
many people stood looking on.
"Jack, the giant-killer," thought Ben, and turned
the page to see the words David and Goliath,"
which was enough to set him to reading the story
with great interest, for here was the shepherd-boy
turned into a hero. No more fidgets now; the
sermon was no longer heard, the fan flapped un-
felt, and Billy Barton's spirited sketches in the
hymn-book were vainly held up for admiration.
Ben was quite absorbed in the stirring history of
King David, told in a way that fitted it for chil-
dren's reading, and illustrated with fine pictures
which charmed the boy's eye.
Sermon and story ended at the same time ; and
while he listened to the prayer, Ben felt as if he
understood now what Miss Celia meant by saying
that words helped when they were well chosen and
sincere. Several petitions seemed as if especially
intended for him, and he repeated them to himself
that he might remember them, they sounded so
sweet and comfortable, heard for the first time just
when he most needed comfort. Miss Celia saw a
new expression in the boy's face as she glanced
down at him, and heard a little humming at her
side when all stood up to sing the cheerful hymn
with which they were dismissed.
How do you like church ? asked the young
lady as they drove away.
First-rate," answered Ben, heartily.
Especially the sermon ? "
Ben laughed and said, with an affectionate glance
at the little book in her lap :
"I could n't understand it, but that story was
just elegant. There's more, and I'd admire to
read 'em, if I could."
I'm glad you like them, and we will keep the
rest for another sermon-time. Thorny used to do


so, and always called this his 'pewv book.' I don't
expect you to understand much that you hear yet
awhile ; but it is good to be there, and after read-
ing these stories you will be more interested when
you hear the names of the people mentioned here."
Yes 'm. Was n't David a fine feller ? I liked
all about the kid and the corn and the ten cheeses,
and killing' the lion and bear, and slingin' old
Goliath dead first shot. I want to know about
Joseph next time, for I saw a gang of robbers
putting' him in a hole, and it looked real interest-
Miss Celia could not help smiling at Ben's way
of telling things; but she was pleased to see that
he was attracted by the music and the stories, and
resolved to make church-going so pleasant that he
would learn to love it for its own sake.
'N Now, you have tried my way this morning,
and we will try yours this afternoon. Come over
about four and help me roll Thorny down to the
grove. I am going to put one of the hammocks
there, because the smell of the pines is good for
him, and you can talk or read or amuse yourselves
in any quiet way you like."
Can I take Sanch along ? He does n't like to
be left, and felt real bad because I shut him up for
fear he'd follow and come walking' into meeting' to
find me."
Yes, indeed; let the clever Bow-wow have a
good time and enjoy Sunday as much as I want my
boys to."
Quite content with this arrangement, Ben went
home to dinner, which he made very lively by
recounting Billy Barton's ingenious devices to be-
guile the tedium of sermon-time. He said nothing
of his conversation with Miss Celia, because he
had not quite made up his mind whether he liked
it or not; it was so new and serious, he felt as if he
would better lay it by, to think over a good deal
before he could understand all about it. But he
had time to get dismal again and long for four
o'clock, because he had nothing to do except
whittle. Mrs. Moss went to take a nap; Bab and
Betty sat demurely on their bench reading Sunday
books; no boys were allowed to come and play;
even the hens retired under the currant-bushes,
and the cock stood among them, clucking drowsily,
as if reading them a sermon.
Dreadful slow day," thought Ben, and, retiring
to the recesses of his own room, he read over the
two letters which seemed already old to him. Now
that the first shock was over, he could not make it
true that his father was dead, and he gave up try-
ing, for he was an honest boy and felt that it was
foolish to pretend to be more unhappy than he
really was. So he put away his letters, took the
black pocket off Sanch's neck, and allowed himself

to whistle softly as he packed up his possessions
ready to move next day, with few regrets and many
bright anticipations for the future.
Thorny, I want you to be good to Ben and
amuse him in some quiet way this afternoon. I
must stay and see the Aliens who are coming over,
but you can go to the grove and have a pleasant
time," said Miss Celia to her brother.
Not much fun in talking to that horsey fellow.
I 'm sorry for him, but I can't do anything to
amuse him," objected Thorny, pulling himself up
from the sofa with a great yawn.
"You can be very agreeable when you like, and
Ben has had enough of me for this time. To-
morrow he will have his work and do very well,
but we must try to help him through to-day,
because he does n't know what to do with himself.
Besides, it is just the time to make a good im-
pression on him, while grief for his father softens
him and gives us a chance. I like him, and I'm
sure he wants to do well; so it is our duty to help
him, as there seems to be no one else."
Here goes, then. Where is he ? and Thorny
stood up, won by his sister's sweet earnestness, but
very doubtful of his own success with the "horsey
Waiting with the chair. Randa has gone on
with the hammock. Be a dear boy, and I'll do as
much for you some day."
Don't see how you can be a dear boy. You 're
the best sister that ever was, so I '11 love all the
scallywags you ask me to."
With a laugh and a kiss, Thorny shambled off
to ascend his chariot, good-humoredly saluting his
pusher, whom he found sitting on the high rail
behind, with his feet on Sanch.
Drive on, Benjamin. I don't know the way,
so I can't direct. Don't spill me out,-that's all
I 've got to say."
"All right, sir,"-and away Ben trundled down
the long walk that led through the orchard to a
little grove of seven pines.
A pleasant spot, for a soft rustle filled the air, a
brown carpet of pine-needles, with fallen cones for
a pattern, lay under foot, and over the tops of the
tall brakes that fringed the knoll one had glimpses
of hill and valley, farm-houses and winding river
like a silver ribbon through the low green meadows.
"A regular summer house said Thorny, sur-
veying it with approval. What 's the matter,
Randa? Wont it go?" he asked, as the stout maid
dropped her arms with a puff, after vainly trying
to throw the hammock rope over a branch.
That ena went up beautiful, but this one wont;
the branches is so high I can't reach 'em, and I 'm
no hand at flinging ropes round."
I'll fix it," and Ben went up the pine like a



squirrel, tied a stout knot, and swung himself down
again before Thorny could get out of the chair.
My patience what a spry boy exclaimed
Randa, admiringly.
"That's nothing; you ought to see me shin up
a smooth tent-pole," said Ben, rubbing the pitch
off his hands, with a boastful wag of the head.
SYou can go, Randa. Just hand me my cushion
and books, Ben ; then you can sit in the chair
while I talk to you," commanded Thorny, tumbling
into the hammock.
"What's he going' to say to me?" wondered
Ben to himself, as he sat down with Sanch sprawl-
ing among the wheels.

right off. Come now, she wants me to be clever
to you, and I'd like to do it; but if you get pep-
pery, how can I ? "
Thorny spoke in a hearty, blunt way, which
suited Ben much better than the other, and he
responded pleasantly:
If you wont be grand I wont be peppery. No-
body is going to boss me but Miss Celia, so I'll
learn hymns if she wants me to."
In the soft season of thy youth' is a good one
to begin with. I learned it when I was six. Nice
thing; better have it." And Thorny offered the
book like a patriarch addressing an infant.
Ben surveyed the yellow page with small favor,

,-- -=_- :.----.-=--- -_ __ =_= ._ --- -: .. --_- -. .. -
Now, Ben, I think you'd better learn a hymn; for the long s in the old-fashioned printing bewil-
I always used to when I was a little chap, and it is dered him, and when he came to the last two lines
a good thing to do Sundays," began the new he could not resist reading them wrong:
teacher with a patronizing air, which ruffled his
pupil as much as the opprobrious term "little Th ea rthc ffos youth. er
I 'll be-whew-if I do whistled Ben, stop- I don't believe I could ever get that into my
ping an oath just in time. head straight. Have n't you got a plain one any-
It is not polite to whistle in company," said where round ?" he asked, turning over the leaves
Thorny, with great dignity. with some anxiety.
Miss Celia told me to. I 'll say 'Confound it,' Look at the end and see if there is n't a piece
if you like that better," answered Ben, as a sly of poetry pasted in ? You learn that, and see how
smile twinkled in his eyes. funny Celia will look when you say it to her. She
Oh, I see She's told you about it ? Well, wrote it when she was a girl, and somebody had it
then, if you want to please her, you '1 learn a hymn printed for other children. like it best, myself."
VOL. V.-27.



Pleased by the prospect of a little fun to cheer
his virtuous task, Ben whisked over the leaves and
read with interest the lines Miss Celia had written
in her girlhood:
A little kingdom I possess,
Where thoughts and feelings dwell;
And very hard I find the task
Of governing it well.
For passion tempts and troubles me,
A wayward will misleads,
And selfishness its shadow casts
On all my words and deeds.

How can I learn to rule myself,
To be the child I should,
Honest and brave, nor ever tire
Of trying to be good?
How can I keep a sunny soul
To shine along life's way?
How can I tune my little heart
To sweetly sing all day?
Dear Father, help me with the love
That casteth out my fear!
Teach me to lean on Thee, and feel
That Thou art very near;
That no temptation is unseen,
No childish grief too small,
Since Thou, with patience infinite,
Doth soothe and comfort all.
I do not ask for any crown
But that which all may win;
Nor seek to conquer any world
Except the one within.
Be Thou my guide until I find,
Led by a tender hand,
Thy happy kingdom in myself
And dare to take command."

I like that! said Ben, emphatically, when he
had read the little hymn. I understand it, and
I 'll learn it right away. Don't see how she could
make it all come out so nice and pretty."
"Celia can do anything," and Thorny gave an
all-embracing wave of the hand, which forcibly ex-
pressed his firm belief in his sister's boundless
I made some poetry once. Bab and Betty
thought it was first-rate. I did n't," said Ben,
moved to confidence by the discovery of Miss
Celia's poetic skill.
Say it," commanded Thorny, adding with tact,
"Ican't make any to save my life-never could;
but I 'm fond of it."
Pretty creter,
I do love her
Like a brother;
Just to ride
Is my delight,
For ste does not
Kick or bite,"

recited Ben, with modest pride, for his first attempt
had been inspired by sincere affection and pro-
nounced lovely by the admiring girls.

'" Very good You must say them to Celia, too.
She likes to hear Lita praised. You and she and
that little Barlow boy ought to try for a prize, as
the poets did in Athens. I 'll tell you all about it
some time. Now, you peg away at your hymn."
Cheered by Thorny's commendation, Ben fell to
work at his new task, squirming about in the chair
as if the process of getting words into his memory
was a very painful one. But he had quick wits,
and had often learned comic songs; so he soon
was able to repeat the four verses without mistake,
much to his own and Thorny's satisfaction.
"Now we 'll talk," said the well-pleased pre-
ceptor, and talk they did, one swinging in the
hammock, the other rolling about on the pine-
needles, as they related their experiences boy-
fashion. Ben's were the most exciting, but Thorny's
were not without interest, for he had lived abroad
for several years, and could tell all sorts of droll
stories of the countries he had seen.
Busied with friends, Miss Celia could not help
wondering how the lads got on, and, when the tea-
bell rang, waited a little anxiously for their return,
knowing that she could tell at a glance if they had
enjoyed themselves.
"All goes well so far," she thought, as she
watched their approach with a smile, for Sancho
sat bolt upright in the chair which Ben pushed,
while Thorny strolled beside him leaning on a
stout cane newly cut. Both boys were talking
busily, and Thorny laughed from time to time, as
if his comrade's chat was very amusing.
See what a jolly cane Ben cut for me. He 's
great fun if you don't stroke him the wrong way,"
said the elder lad, flourishing his staff as they
came up.
What have you been doing down there ? You
look so merry, I suspect mischief," asked Miss
Celia, surveying them from the steps.
We 've been as good as gold. I talked, and
Ben learned a hymn to please you. Come, young
man, say your piece," said Thorny, with an ex-
pression of virtuous content.
Taking off his hat, Ben soberly obeyed, much
enjoying the quick color that came up in Miss
Celia's face as she listened, and feeling as if well
repaid for the labor of learning by the pleased look
with which she said, as he ended with a bow :
I feel very proud to think you chose that, and
to hear you say it as if it meant something to you.
I was only thirteen when I wrote it, but it came
right out of my heart, and did me good. I hope
it may help you a little."
Ben murmured that he guessed it would, but felt
too shy to talk about such things before Thorny,
so hastily retired to put the chair away, and the
others went in to tea. But later in the evening,



when Miss Celia was singing like a nightingale, ing "Now I lay me," he repeated the third verse
the boy slipped away from sleepy Bab and Betty of Miss Celia's hymn, for that was his favorite,
to stand by the syringa-bush and listen, with his because his longing for the father whom he had
heart full of new thoughts and happy feelings, seen made it seem sweet and natural now to love
for never before had he spent a Sunday like and lean, without fear, upon the Father whom
this. And when he went to bed, instead of say- he had not seen.
(To be continiiue.)



OF all the birds that swim the air
I 'd rather be the swallow;
And, summer days, when days were fair,
I 'd follow, follow, follow
The hurrying clouds across the sky,
And with the singing winds I 'd fly.

My eager wings would need no rest
If I were but a swallow;
I 'd scale the highest mountain crest
And sound the deepest hollow.
No forest could my path-way hide;
No ocean plain should be too wide.

I 'd find the sources of the Nile,
I 'd see the Sandwich Islands,
And Chimborazo's granite pile,
And Scotland's rugged Highlands:
I 'd skim the sands of Timbuctoo;
Constantinople's mosques I 'd view.

I'd fly among the isles of Greece,
The pride of great Apollo,
And circle round the bay of Nice,
If I were but a swallow,
And view the sunny fields of France,
The vineyards merry with the dance.

I 'd see my shadow in the Rhine
Dart swiftly like an arrow,
And catch the breath of eglantine
Along the banks of Yarrow;
I 'd roam the world and never tire,
If I could have my heart's desire !





ALL the horses we see in the streets, or along
the country roads, are tame. Such a thing as a
real wild horse is hardly to be found anywhere,
save in certain places in Texas, California, and
parts of South America. Elsewhere, the horse is
tame enough, and no one can remember, neither
is it told in any history or story book, when or
where men first tamed him and put a bit in his
mouth. A long, long time ago, all the horses
were wild, but no one knows when that could have
been, for, as long as men can remember, they
have had tame horses, dogs, cats, elephants,
camels and cattle.
Now, the curious part of this is that there are
wild horses both in North and South America at
this day. They do not belong to any one in par-
ticular, and run wild, without saddle or bridle, all
the year round. Yet they are not descendants of
the original wild horses, for there was a time when
their fathers were good cavalry horses, and belonged
to the Spanish armies that invaded Mexico and
Peru. When Europeans discovered the two con-
tinents on this side of the world, such a thing as a
horse was totally unknown to the people living
here, and, when they saw the Spanish cavalry,
they thought the horses and riders some new kind
of animal. Seeing the horses champ their brass
bits, the people thought they were eating gold.
So they brought lumps of gold to see them eat it.
The soldiers slyly put the gold in their pockets,
and said the horses had eaten it up, and the natives
were simple enough to believe this wonderful story.
Many of the Spanish soldiers were killed in the
wars with the Mexicans, and their horses broke
loose and ran away. Some of them may have
been caught again by the Mexicans, but many
others escaped and were never captured again, and
ran wild through the country. The descendants
of these horses grew and multiplied and spread
over parts of North and South America, going
south into the great plains or pampas, and north
into the prairie lands of Texas and the valleys of
California. These horses still run wild, and are
the only really wild horses in the world. At the
same time, they may not precisely resemble the first
real wild horses, for their fathers were tame, and,
perhaps, they still remember something of this,
and have strange legends among themselves of the
old days when their ancestors were good Spanish
cavalry horses.
The early settlers that landed in other parts of

the country, at New Amsterdam, at Jamestown
and Plymouth Bay, also brought tame horses with
them, and these, in turn, spread over North
America, as the settlers moved out toward the
west. These horses are now called "American
horses," to distinguish them from the wild horses
of Texas and California. The American horses,
in time, met the wild horses, and then men noticed
that they were very different animals. The wild
horse is smaller and' more muscular, he has
stronger and stouter limbs, a larger head, and a
more bushy mane and tail. His ears are longer
and more inclined to lie back on his head, his feet
are smaller and more pointed in front, and his hair
is rougher and thicker. His color is often curi-
ously mixed in black and white dots and flecks, like
some circus horses that you may have seen; and,
if his color is uniform, it is generally dark red or
deep gray or mouse color. These mustangs are
quite wild, and have no fixed feeding-ground.
They scamper in droves over the rolling prairies
and pampas, and sleep at night in such dry places
as they can find. They keep in companies for
protection against bears or other wild animals, and
if they are attacked, they put their noses together
and form a circle with their heels out, as if they
had been told of the old Spanish fighting days,
and of the soldiers forming with their pikes solid
squares to resist attacks of cavalry.
They can defend themselves against the bears in
this way, but against the lightning and men they
have no protection, except to run away as fast as
they can. A thunder storm, or a very high wind,
fills them with terror, and away they go at furious
speed through the grass, and, at last, disappear in
a cloud of dust on the horizon.
The wild horse can run away from a man ; but
this protection fails at times. The horse-catchers
-or "vaqueros," as they are called-are famous
riders, and to see them capture a wild mustang is
better than to go to a circus. The vaquero puts
a Spanish saddle on a tame horse, and starts out to
see what he can find. In front, on the high pommel
of the saddle, he hangs in large coils a leather
rope, about a hundred feet long, and called a lasso.
It is made of strips of raw hide, braided by hand
into a smooth, hard and very pretty rope. One
end is secured to the saddle, and the other end has
a slip-knot making a sliding noose.
The vaquero has not long to wait, for there are
droves of horses cantering or walking about over



IY4 4


j __ -Q
0.7' t 11
V- V1 7











the swells and hollows of the prairie, with here and
there a smaller group looking on, or watching a
battle between two horses who wish to be captains
of their bands or companies. Presently, there
is a strange sound of tramping hoofs, like the
sound of a squadron of cavalry, except that it has
a grand, wild rush and swing such as no cavalry
ever had, and a cloud of dark heads rises over a
swell of the land. The leader sees the vaquero,
and he halts suddenly, and the others pull up in a
confused crowd, and toss their heads, and sniff the
air, as if they scented danger near. The leader
does not like the looks of things, and turns and
slowly canters away, followed by all the rest,
tramping in confusion through the yellow grass
and wild barley. Presently they become fiight-
ened, and away they fly in a dusty throng.
The vaquero's horse seems to think his chance
has come, and he pricks up his ears, and is eager
for the glorious fun of a dash after the mustangs.
Away they go pell-mell, in a panic, and the tame
horse galloping swiftly after them. Down they)
tumble-some knocked over in the confusion,
snorting and flinging great flecks of foam from
their dilated nostrils, trampling over each other in
mad haste, each for himself, and the American
horse sweeping after them. Now the vaquero
stands up in his saddle, and the lasso swings round
and round in a circle over his head. Swish! It
sings through the air with a whirring sound, and
opens out in great rings, while the loop spreads
wider and wider, and at last drops plump over the
head of a mustang. The vaquero's horse 'pulls
up with a sudden halt, and sinks back on his
haunches, and braces his fore feet out in front.
Ah How the dust flies The mustang is fast,

held by the slip-knot, and he rears up and plunges
in wild and frantic terror. The rope strains terri-
bly, but the vaquero watches his chances, and
takes in the rope every time it slackens. It is of
no use! The poor mustang is hard and fast.
Perhaps another rider comes up and flings another
lasso over his head. Then they ride round him,
and the mustang is twisted and tangled in the
ropes till he can hardly move. He falls, and rolls,
and kicks furiously, and all in vain. Panting,
exhausted and conquered, he at last submits to his
fate. His free days are over, and he seems to
know it. A few more struggles, and he recognizes
that man is his master, and, perhaps, in one or
two days he submits to a bit in his mouth, and
becomes a tame horse for the rest of his life. If,
by any chance, he escapes before he is broken in,
and runs away to join his wild companions, he
seems never to forget that terrible lasso, and if he
sees the vaquero again, he will stand, trembling
and frightened, too much terrified to even run
The wild mustangs of the far West are rapidly
disappearing. As the settlers come in, they capture
them and tame them, so that in places where once
the wild horses roamed in great droves, hardly one
is now to be seen, and the much better American
horse has taken his place. This picture shows two
vaqueros in South America just making a capture.
They came out from the plantation under the palm-
trees, and the powerful white mustang has just felt
the pull of the lasso round his splendid neck. Poor
fellow It is hard, but it will soon be over, and
then he will one day enjoy chasing others quite as
much as the splendid black horse has enjoyed the
exciting chase after him.



" HERE'S a warm sunbeam, Daisy, Daisy;
April sent it to wake you, dear!
How can you be so lazy, lazy?
Have n't you heard that Spring is here ?"

Daisy murmured, sleepy and surly:
Spring's too young yet-the air is cool;
I don't believe in a sun so early,-
He's just playing at April fool "





ONE fine summer morning, many years ago,
there sat upon a log, in a garden in Russia, an old
man, who was mending a rake. The rake was a
wooden one, and he was cutting a tooth to take the
place of one that was broken. He was a stout,
healthy old fellow, dressed in a coarse blue blouse
and trousers ; and as he sat on the log, whittling
away at the piece of wood which was to become a
rake-tooth, he sang, in a voice that was somewhat
the worse for wear, but still quite as good a voice
as you could expect an old gardener to have, a
little song. He sang it in Russian, of course, and
this was the way it ran :

Zvcri raboti ne znaiut
Ptitzi zhivut bes truda
Liudi ne zvccri ie ptitzi
Liudi rabotoi zhivut."

Expressed in English, this dittysimply set forth
the fact that the beasts and the birds do not labor,
but Man, who is neither a beast nor a bird, is
obliged to work.
The old fellow seemed to like the lines, for he
sang them over several times, as he went on with
his whittling. Just as he was about to make a new
start on his Zvcri raboti," a boy, about fifteen
years old, came out of the house which stood by
the side of the garden, and walked toward him.
Nicolai Petrovitch," said the boy, sitting down
on a wheelbarrow, which was turned over in front
of the gardener, why is it that you are so fond

of singing that song ? One might suppose you are
lazy, but we know very well you are not. And
then, too, there is no sense in it. Birds don't work,
to be sure, but what have you to say about horses
and oxen ? I 'm sure they work hard enough-at
least, some of them."
Martin Ivanovitch," said the old man, as he took
up the rake and tried the new tooth, to see if it
would fit in the hole, this stick will have to be
cut down a good deal more; it is hard wood.
What you say about the beasts is very true. But
I like that song. It may not be altogether true,
but it is poetry, and it pleases me."
You like poetry, don't you ? said Martin.
Yes, indeed, little Martin, I like poetry. If it
had been possible, I should have been a poet
myself. I often think very good poetry, but as I
cannot read or write, there is no sense in my trying
to make use of any of it."
"But how did you learn to like poetry, as you
cannot read ? asked Martin.
Oh I heard a great deal of very good poetry
when I was a young man, and then I learned to
like it. And I remembered almost all I heard.
Now, my daughter Axinia reads poetry to me
every Sunday, but I do not remember it so well."
What kind of poetry suits you best ?" asked
the boy, who seemed to be tired of studying, or
working, or perhaps playing, and therefore glad to
have a quiet talk with the old man.
I like all kinds, Martin Ivanovitch. I used to



sing a great deal, and then I liked songs best.
I think you have heard me sing some of my good
"Oh yes said Martin, I remember that song
about the young shepherdess, who wanted to give
her sweetheart something ; and she could not give
him her dog, because she needed him, nor her
crook, because her father had given it to her, nor
one of her lambs, because they all belonged to her
mother, who counted them every day, and so she
gave him her heart."
Yes, yes," said old Nicolai, smiling; I like
that song best of all. I should be proud to have
written such poetry as that. He must have been a
great poet who wrote that. But I do not hear
many songs now. My little Axinia is reading me
a long poem. It is called the 'Dushenka.' Per-
haps you have heard of it ? "
Oh yes said Martin.
Well, she is reading that to me. She likes it
herself. I do not understand it all; but what I do
understand, I like very much. It is good poetry.
It must have been a grand thing to write such
poetry as that," and the old man laid down his
knife and his stick, and took off his cap, as if in
involuntary homage to the author of Dushenka,"
which is one of the standard poems in Russian
You were not a gardener when you were a
young man, were you, Nicolai Petrovitch ? asked
0 no But long before you were born I became
a gardener. When I was a young man I had a
good many different employment. Being a serf,
I paid a yearly sum to my master, and then I went
where I pleased. Sometimes I was well off, and
sometimes I was badly off. I have been out on the
lonely steppes in winter, often only three or four
of us together, with our horses and carts, when the
snow came down so fast, and the wind blew so
fiercely, that we could scarcely make our way
through the storm; and even the colts that were
following us could hardly keep their feet in the
deep drifts. Sometimes, we would lose our way in
these storms,-when we could see nothing a hun-
dred feet from us,-and then we should have wan-
dered about until we died, if we had not given up
everything to the horses. They could always find
their way home, even in the worst storms. And
then," said old Nicolai, knocking from the rake a
tooth that was cracked (for the new one was finished
and hammered in), I used to drive a sledge on a
post-road. That was harder, perhaps, than plung-
ing through the snow-storms on the steppes, for I
used to have to drive sometimes by day and some-
times by night, in the coldest weather ; and a wind
that is cold enough when you are standing still, or

going along the same road that it is taking, is fifty
times worse when you are driving, as fast as you
can, right into the teeth of it. I used to be glad
enough when we reached a post-house and I could
crowd myself up against the great brick stove and
try and get some little feeling into my stiffened
fingers. The winter that I drove a sledge was the
worst winter I have ever known. I did not care to
try this hard life another season, so I went to
Moscow, and there I became servant to a young
fellow who was the greatest fool I ever knew."
What did he do ?" asked Martin. Why was
he a fool ? "
"Oh! he was a boy without sense-the only
Russian boy I ever knew who had no sense at all.
If he had belonged to some other nation, I should
not have wondered so much. This fellow was
about fifteen or sixteen, and ought to have known
something of the world, but he knew nothing. He
was going to the university when I was with him,
but you might have thought he was a pupil at a
mad-house. Whatever came into his cracked brain,
came out of his mouth; and whatever he wanted
to do, he did, without waiting to think whether it
would be proper or. not. The biggest fool could
cheat him ; and when anybody did cheat him, and
his friends found it out and wanted to punish the
rascal, this little fool of mine would come, with
tears in his eyes, to beg for the poor wretch, who
must feel already such remorse and such shame at
being found out! Bah I can hardly bear to think
of him. Why, there was once a house afire, in a
neighborhood where one of his friends lived, and
what does this young fool do but jump out of his
bed, in the middle of a stormy night, and run to
this fire, with nothing but his night-clothes on "
This is very curious," said Martin, laughing.
Nicolai Petrovitch, do you know "
Well, as I was going on to tell you," said the
old man, who seemed thoroughly wrapped up in
his subject, I could n't stand any such folly as
that, and so I soon left him and went to live with
Colonel Rasteryaieff. I stayed there a long, long
time. There I became a gardener, and there I
learned almost all the poetry that I know. The
colonel had a daughter, who was a little child when
I went there ; but when she grew old enough, she
became a girl of great sense, and she liked poetry,
and used to come and read to me, out of the books
she had. I always tried to get at some work which
would let me listen to her, during the hour that
she would come to me in the afternoon. She read
better than my little Axinia. I used to wish I was
a poet, so that I could hear her read some of my
But, Nicolai Petrovitch," cried Martin, his eyes
fairly sparkling with a discovery he had made, do




you know that I believe that that fool of a boy you
lived with was the poet who wrote the songs and
the poetry that you like best-that he wrote the
'Dushenka,' which Axinia Nicolaievna is reading
to you ?"
"What !" said the old gardener, laying down
his knife and the piece of wood he was cutting.
I mean what I say," said Martin. Was n't
his name Bogdanovitch ?"

shepherdess, and he wrote the 'Dushenka.' He
might have acted very simply when he was young,
but he certainly became a great poet."
So he wrote the shepherdess song, did he ?"
said Nicolai.
Yes, he wrote that, and many other good
things, and he became quite a famous man. Queen
Catharine thought a great deal of him, and the
people at court paid him many honors. They did

,- .I,

'2:_=- -- S-TR ON-. . T STPE S.


Bog-dan-ovitch !" repeated Nicolai, his eyes
wide open in surprise. Yes-that was his name.
How did you know him? It was nearly fifty years
ago since I lived with him."
Oh yes said Martin, still laughing, it must
have been that long ago. I read his life only a
short time since, in the edition of 'Dushenka'
which we have. It was surely Bogdanovitch whom
you lived with. Why, Nicolai Petrovitch, you ought
to be proud of having had such a master He was
one of our great poets. He wrote the song of the

not consider him a fool, as you did. If you would
like to know all about what happened to this young
boy who was such a simpleton, I will lend you the
book with his life in it, and Axinia Nicolaievna can
read it to you."
My little Martin Ivanovitch," said the old man,
picking up his knife and the yet unfinished rake,
" I do not believe that I ever could have become a
poet, even if I had known how to read and write.
It would have been impossible for me to have gone
to a fire in my night-clothes "


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THE Professor seated himself at the luncheon-
table with an air of importance. He was twelve
years old, but he might have been taken for six, or
even for three, he looked so wise. The children's
nurse poured herself out a cup of tea. The tea-
pot was too full, and a large drop fell upon the
shining mahogany table. The Professor looked at
the drop with evident pleasure.
Stop, nurse he cried, as she was about to
wipe it up with her napkin. Let's see who can
take up that tea without touching it, and leave the
table dry "
Thuck it up," said Pip.
Mamma does n't like you to drink tea," said
Besides, that would be touching it," said Tom.
Take it up with a thpoon," said Pip.
You could n't do it; it would spread all over,"
said the Professor.
Ahd that would be touching it just as much,"
said Bob.
Don't fink it can be done said Pip, shaking
her head.
"All shut your eyes," said the Professor. You,
nurse, shut yours, too. Don't any of you look."
Nurse shut both her eyes, hard. Pip put her
two fat little fists into her eyes, and listened. Tom
laid his head down sideways on the table, and
curled his arms round it. Bob declared that he
would n't shut his eyes-; he was going to see that
the Professor acted fair.
Now open your eyes," said the Professor.
They all looked up, and there stood the sage,
who had covered the drop with a little blue bowl.
He lifted the bowl, and, on the spot where had,
been the drop of tea, stood a lump of loaf-sugar
holding up the tea in its paws, or pores, whichever
you please.

Nurse picked up the lump of sugar and ate it.
The table was as dry as a bone.
Oh, my said Pip.

The Professor walked over to the window.
"Oh, nurse!" said he, "why don't you make
Bridget wash this paint off the glass "
She has tried to get it off," said nurse, "but
she can't do it."
What loths of little thpots said Pip.
What careless fellows those painters were !"
said Tom.
Who knows how to get it off?" said the Pro-
Take a thpunge and thum thope," said Pip.
'T wont do," said nurse ; Bridget has tried."
Oh, I know said Bob. Kerosene "
Thath dangeruth," said Pip, and thmells
bad, bethides."
"Nurse," said the Professor, "what will you
give me if I will show you how to take it off? "
I'll give you a cent," said nurse.
Give me a cent and I '11 do it," said the Pro-
fessor. "But I must be paid in advance." He
took the cent. Now look, all of you," he said;
and, laying it flat on the glass, he held it with the
tips of the first and second fingers, and rubbed it
briskly over the pane. Off went the spots like
buckwheat cakes of a cold winter-morning !
Oh, how nithe said Pip.
Any feller could do that," said Bob.
Yeth," said Pip, if they'd then anybody do
it before."

Why, Tom !" cried nurse, where did you
get that paint on your sleeve? "
There! I told Fred Mason he'd get me all
over paint, if he did n't stop fooling," said Tom.



It 'th a wewy big thpot," said Pip.
It'll never come off," said Tom ; and it's my
new jacket, too Mason pushed me against the
door." '
"Well," said the Professor, "there's no use
crying over spilt milk."
"Oh," said Pip, is it milk in the paint that
makth it so white ? "
Nonsense, Pip The thing to do now is to
get the paint off Tom's coat. Who knows how to
do it ? "
Don't fink anybody duth," said Pip.
Hold out your arm," said the Professor. And,
with the sleeve of his own coat, he briskly rubbed
the sleeve of Tom's; and away went the spot of
paint in a jiffy.
He's wubbed it onto his own thleeve," said
But no; the Professor's sleeve was as clean as
"Where ith it went to ?" said Pip. Oh, nurse !
Ith n't that thingler ?"
I say," said Bob, you could n't have got it
off if it had dried on your coat."
Perhaps not," said the Professor.

It was again luncheon-time, and Pip, Tom, and
Bob were in the dining-room, where nurse Char-
lotte, seated at the head of the table, was already
pouring herself out a cup of tea. She had cut
bread and butter for the children, filled their tum-
blers with milk, and was ready, when they should
be ready, to help them to the apple-and-sago pud-
ding-"just the nithest pudding in the world," as
merry little Pip used to say every time it came on
All the children were there but the Professor;
the others did not know where he was. Pip was
the first one to see him coming across the lawn.
How queer said Pip. He 'th all mud, and
what hath he got in hith hand ?"
It's a turtle," says Tom.
"It'th a bird," says Pip.
Perhaps it's a turtle-dove," says nurse.
Should say 't was a mud-turtle by the looks of
his legs," said Bob.
Nurth, do turtle-doves live in the mud ? said
"Nonsense," said Bob, "as if birds ever lived
in the mud "
"Well," said Pip, "thum thwallows, I know,
make their neths of mud, and then they live in
their neths, and that's living in mud. But here
comth the Profethor; let's see what heeth found.
It's thumthin in a glath."
The Professor came up, walking very slowly
across the grass; then stepped carefully up upon

the piazza, and, as he passed the window, he called
for some one to come and open the front door.
All the children ran together, and opened the
door with such a flourish, the Professor was obliged
to call out, Stand off! Hands off! "
Will it splode ? said Pip.
"Will it bite? said Bob.
Will it fly away ? said Tom.
It will splode," said the Professor, and it will
fly away; but it wont bite."
Oh my said Pip, what can it be ? I never
heard of any creature splodin "
The Professor looked pleased; his face was red,
his hair was tumbled, his coat was torn, and his
boots and trousers were muddy.
"You look as if you had had a hard time
catching the creature, whatever it is," said nurse.
"You 'd better leave it out-of-doors now, and clean
yourself, and come and eat your luncheon."
Oh, please, nurse, let's see it now said all
the children; and nurse, who wanted to see it her-
self, agreed.
You can't see it," said the Professor; "it's
invisible You can't see it till it disappears "
"Oh dear," said Pip, "'I just ache to know
about it."
Well," said the Professor, "light mamma's
I don't see what good lighting a taper will do,
if the creature's invisible," said Bob.
The Professor set his burden down on the table.
It was a saucer filled with water, and in the water
stood a tumbler upside down. There was nothing
to be seen in the tumbler.
The Professor struck an attitude.
: What I have in this tumbler, nurse and chil-
dren, was obtained with great difficulty. I've been
about it ever since lesson-time."
Where did you find it ? says Pip.
How came you to know about it? says Tom.
I should think it would be hard to catch noth-
ing," says Bob.
I found it in the water, in the little pool in our
woods. I saw it first the other night in the dark,
and I caught it to-day when it was hiding. I took
a long stick and gently stirred up the dead leaves
that lie rotting on the bottom, and he began to
come up-first one, then another-now here, and
now there."
"Ho! ho!" says Bob. "How could that be?
How could he come up in pieces, and in different
places ? "
Poor thing said Pip. He wath dead "
Oh, if he's dead I don't care about him," says
He 's far from dead," said the Professor ; and
though he was in pieces, he's all together now, and


404 THE PR(

safe in this tumbler." And then, seizing the lighted
taper, he turned up the tumbler, held the taper
quickly to its mouth, and-Pop went something,
with a quick flash.
Oh, fire-works says Bob.
"Oh, tell us truly about it! says Tom. Where
did you buy it ? Let's have some for the Fourth "
"Children," said the Professor, "I have told
you the truth about it. It's gas. It's carbureted
hydrogen. I found it in the pond. 'Carbureted
hydrogen' is its science name. Its poetry name is
'Will-o'-the-wisp,' and there's another name be-
"I should think two names were enough for
nothing," says Bob.
What 'th the other name?" said Pip.
"Ignis flatmts," said the Professor. It means
Cheating-fire.' Sometimes this gas, rising to the
top of the water in bubbles, takes fire (by what
they call spontaneous combustion, or by mixing
with some other gas, or in some other way), and
then, as one bubble after another takes fire and
goes flickering along, it looks as if some one were
walking through the woods with a lantern."
And that how it cheat-th, is n't it ?" said Pip.
"But I don't thee how it is thet afire. Perhapth,
now-perhapth it's the fire-flyth "
Oh, good for you said the Professor; and
he chased her round the table, and caught her,
and kissed her.
Well, how did you ever get it with that tum-
bler ? said Tom.
Well, easy enough. First, I filled the tumbler
with water. Then I laid the saucer over the top.
Then I plunged the whole under the water, hold-
ing tumbler and saucer with both hands firm, and
turned them over in the water, and drew them out.
The saucer, as well as the tumbler, was then full
of water, and though the tumbler was upside down
the water could n't fall out."
What hindered it, I 'd like to know ? said
"Atmospheric pressure," said the Professor,
pushing the words out slowly. The whole
atmosphere weighs down on the water in the


saucer and balances the water in the tumbler and
keeps it in."
It had all leaked out before you reached home,
anyway," said Bob.
The gas pushed it out," said the Professor.
" I told you how I stirred up the bottom of the
pool. It was all covered with dead leaves. These
as they rot give out gas, but it cannot easily escape
from the bottom, and stays down among the
leaves and slime till it is stirred up. Then the
little bubbles of gas come popping up, and as they
mount I am ready with my tumbler and saucer.
I slip them both softly into the water a little way
off, draw out the saucer, slide the inverted tumbler
over the bubbles before they break; and the gas
mounts into the tumbler, each bubble of gas dis-
placing a little water; then over more bubbles,
and more and more, until all the water in the
tumbler is out and the gas is in its place ; then I
fill the saucer with water again, slide it under the
tumbler, and bring it home."
Come to your luncheon, children," cried nurse.
" The pudding will be cold."
Oh, wait a minute," said Tom. "You said
the gas drove out the water in the tumbler. Why
don't it drive out the water in the saucer ? "
The Professor looked puzzled.
"Well, it would in time, I suppose. But you
see, its nature is to push upward, because it's
light --"
"Oh, now, it pushes the same every way," said
There 's something we don't know," said Bob.
"Oh, yeth, I am afwaid we don't know it all,"
said Pip.
Well," drawled the Professor, I don't know,
only I guess it's because the water is too dense-
too close together, for one thing; and the same
atmospheric pressure that kept the water in keeps
the gas in, for another."
There, I do believe that's it," said Pip. Oh,
how nice it did pop off! Like a vewy small fwier-
cracker a great way off. Now let's have some
pudding. Apple and sago Just the nithest pud-
ding in the world !"

ONE day an ant went to visit her neighbor;
She found her quite busy with all sorts of labor;
So she did n't go in, but stopped at the sill,
Left her respects, and went back to her hill.



?(-: _____ ;-





WHEN swiftly in my first you glide along,
Naught ruffles up the temper of your mind;
All goes as smoothly as a summer song,
All objects flit beside you like the wind.

But if you should be stopped in your career,
And forced to linger when you fain would fly,
You '11 leave my first, and, very much I fear,
Will fall into my second speedily.

Till in some snug and comfortable room
Your friends receive you as a welcome guest,
You '11 own that Winter's robbed of half his gloom.
When on my whole your feet in slippers rest.


I SUNDER friends, yet give to laws
A place to stand and plead their cause.
Though justice and sobriety
Still find their safest ground in me,
I spread temptation in man's way,
And rob and ruin every day.

Success and power are in my name,
Men strive for me far more than fame,
One thing I am unto the wise,
But quite another in fools' eyes,
Through me the world is rich and strong,
Yet too much love of me is wrong.

My first and second when they meet,
As lawyers' fees, my whole complete.
And yet my first too oft enjoyed,
Is sure to make my second void.
My whole is good and bad by turns,
As every merchant daily learns.

MY first the stout Hibernian wields
On banks and streets and stubborn fields,
To earn the bread that labor yields.

My second is a name for one
Whose youth and age together run,
A leader all good people shun.

My whole in summer-time is sweet,
When youths and maids together meet
Beneath some shady grove's retreat.

(So simple is this short charade,
That I am very much afraid
You'll guess at once, without my aid.)

WVHEN I was a little boy, how welcome was my
When tired of play I went to bed, my lessons
all rehearsed.
How soundly all the night I slept, without a care
or sorrow,
And waked when sunshine lit the room, and
robins sang good-morrow.

When I was a little boy, what joy it was to see
My second waiting at the door for Willy and
for me;
And how we trotted off to bring ripe apples from
the farm,
And piled our bags on Nellie's back, n6r felt the
least alarm.

But when I was a little boy, I had an ugly
A huge black bear was in my bed, I gave a
dreadful scream,
And roused the house; they brought in lights,
and put my whole to flight,
Since then I made a vow to eat no supper late
at night.

* The answers will be given in the Letter-Box for May, 1878.





IN old times, there was once a quaint little
dwarf, who was known as the Kaboutermanneken
of Kaboutermannekensburg.
In the very ancient times of good King Broderic
and Frederic Barbarossa, he constantly lived above
ground, and many times was seen trudging along
through the moonlit forest with a bag over his
shoulder. What was in the bag nobody exactly
knew, but most people supposed it to be gold.
The Kaboutermanneken was a peppery little
fellow, and at the slightest word his rage would
fire up hotly. Since he was quite able, small as he
was, to thrash the strongest man, he was very
generally avoided.
It is a well-assured fact that, as churches in-
crease, dwarfs and elfin-folk diminish; so, at last,
when the town of Kaboutermannekensburg was
founded, and a church built, the Kaboutermanne-
ken was fairly driven to the wall, or, rather, into
the ground, where he lived in the bowels of the
earth, and only appeared at intervals of a hundred
years. But, upon the last day that terminated
each of these series of a hundred years, he would
re-appear in his old haunts, and, I believe, con-
tinues the practice to the present day, in spite of
railroads, steam-engines, and all the paraphernalia
of progress, so destructive to fairy lore.

Once upon a time, after the Kaboutermanneken's
visits had become events of such rarity, there lived
a worthy wood-chopper, who had a daughter
named Catherine; a pretty little maiden of sixteen,
and yet the wisest woman in the kingdom of
Kaboutermannekensburg. Shrewd as she was,
she had yet the best, the kindest, and the most
guileless heart in the world; and many a sick man,
troubled woman, and grieved child had cause to
bless her and her wisdom. One winter, when
labor was cheap and bread expensive, the wood-
chopper, whose name was Peter Kurtz, chopped
his hand instead of the stump he was aiming a
blow at, and, in consequence, rendered himself
unfit for work for many a day. During his sick-
ness, the whole care of the family devolved upon
Kate; for Peter's wife had died nearly two years
before; so it was Kate who tended the baby,
dressed Johann, mended Wilhelm's small-clothes,
and attended to the wants of her father; for in
those days a sick man was more complaining than
a child two years old. Beside these acts of labor,

she had to cook the meals, wash the dishes, sweep
the house, run of errands, chop the wood, make
the fire, and many other little odd duties of the
kind; so that, upon the whole, her time was pretty
well occupied.
There seemed a probability now, however, that
one of these duties would be dispensed with,
namely, cooking the meals; not that there was
any indolence upon Catherine's part, but because
the necessary materials were not forthcoming. In-
deed, the extent of the larder at present consisted
of half a bowl of cold gravy, and about a quarter
of a loaf of bread.
When Catherine, that cold morning, inspected the
woeful emptiness of the cupboard, she wrung her cold
blue hands in despair; but, wring her poor little
hands ever so much, she could not squeeze good
bread and meat out of them; something must be
done, and that immediately, if she would save the
children from starving. At length she bethought
herself that many rich people of Kaboutermanne-
kensburg were fond of burning pine-cones instead
of rough logs, not only on account of the bright,
warm and crackling fire they produced, but also
because of the sweet resinous odor that they threw
out, filling the house with a perfume like that
which arose from the censers in the cathedral.
It was woeful weather for Catherine to go hunt-
ing for pine-cones. The snow lay a good foot deep
over the glossy brown treasures, and she herself
was but thinly clad; yet the children must have
bread. Not having eaten any breakfast that morn-
ing, she slipped the remnant of the loaf into the
basket to serve as lunch, and then started to face
the wind toward the forest.
Bitterly cold blew the wind from the bleak north;
tearing through the moaning pine forest, that tossed
and swayed before the tempest, gnawing Catherine's
nose and fingers, and snatching up, as it were, hand-
fuls of snow, and hurling them in a rage through
the air. Poor Catherine was nearly frozen, yet she
struggled bravely on through the drifting snow.
Suddenly she caught sight of a quaint little cottage
that she had never seen before, much as she had
traveled this portion of the forest; but a more
welcome sight still was the gleam of a cheery fire
within, that illuminated the frost-covered panes
with a ruddy glow.
Catherine, stumbling, sliding, struggling through
the drifts, reached the cottage at last, raised the
latch, and entered a door-way so low that even she,




small as she was, had to stoop her head in pass-
"Shut the door!" shrieked a shrill voice, with
startling abruptness; and, for the first time, Kate
perceived a very little old man seated in a very
large chair, and smoking a very long pipe. A
great beard reached below his dangling feet and
touched the floor.
May I warm myself at your fire, kind gentle-
man ?" said Kate, dropping a courtesy. The little
old man grunted without looking at her.
May I warm myself at your fire, sir?" repeated

Kate, in a louder voice, supposing he must be
"I heard you!" growled the old dwarf, with
sudden rage. "You don't suppose I'm deaf, do
you ? I said yes. You don't want to argue, do
Kate murmured her thanks, feeling much aston-
ished and very uncomfortable at the old gentle-
man's conduct. Thus they sat in silence for a
long while, the little old man smoking like a
volcano. At length:
Are you hungry?" said he, abruptly.
"Yes, sir," said Kate, bethinking herself of her
"So am I!" said the old man, shortly, at the
same time resuming his smoking. Removing his
pipe after another pause, I have n't had anything
to eat for one hundred years; I feel kind of empty,"
said he.
"I should think so," thought Kate to herself;

then, after regarding him in silence for a few
minutes, she said, timidly, I-I have a-a piece
of bread in my basket, sir, if you would like to
have it?"
"Like to have it? You speak as though you
had no sense. Of course, I should like to have it !
Why did n't you offer it to me sooner ?"
Kate, in spite of her hunger, that had recom-
menced gnawing her, now that she was warm,
handed him the piece of bread. The old man
seized it ravenously, opened his mouth to an aston-
ishing extent, bolted the large morsel as one does

a pill, and then resumed his smoking as though
nothing of any note had occurred. Kate regarded
him with silent astonishment.
"What are you doing out in this kind of
weather?" said the old man, suddenly.
"I came to gather pine-cones to sell in the
town," said Kate.
You're a fool I" snapped the old man. How
do you suppose you can gather pine-cones in
twelve inches of snow, not to mention the drifts ?"
"Nevertheless, sir, I have to get the children
something to eat, and father- "
"Oh! don't bother me with that story!" said
the old man, impatiently. "I know all about it.
Your father 's Peter Kurtz, is n't he ?"
"Yes, sir."
"Umph!" grunted the dwarf. Then, after
another pause, "go to the closet yonder, and take
one of the cups there, in return for the bread you
gave me."

I .. .. .. . .
,. I _*: ^, j

i i

i '-


i-ilr,- 1

__ _VS V_- L CHAIR -J



"Indeed, sir," said Kate, earnestly, "I do not
care for any return for "
"Do as I tell you!" bellowed the dwarf, in a
Kate crossed the room, opened the cupboard,
and-what a sight met her eyes All the dishes,
bowls, cups and saucers were of pure gold.
"'Take one of the cups?" said Kate, in breathless
"That's what I said, was n't it?" snarled the
dwarf. You are just like all women, never con-
tented with what you receive."
Catherine was far too wise to answer foolish
abuse with useless excuse; she silently took one of
the beautiful cups and put it in her basket. She
was so overcome that she did not think of any
word of thanks until she had reached the door;
then, turning: "May heaven bless you, sir,
for "
Shut the door !" screamed the dwarf.
Kate hurried home, but before reaching the
town she wisely covered the cup with snow, that
no gossiping neighbor might catch sight of it; for
she well knew that gossip was like the snow-ball
that the little boys start rolling from the top of a
hill-small in the commencement, but sure to
grow before it ends its course.
"Where have you been all this time ?" whined
When Kate recounted her adventure, her father
could hardly believe her, and when she had care-
fully removed the snow from the cup, he could
hardly believe his eyes. He placed it upon the
table, and then, sitting down in front of it, he ex-
amined it with breathless astonishment and delight.
The cup was of solid gold, heavy and massive;
carved upon it in bold relief was a group of figures
representing a host of little elves at a banquet. So
exquisitely were they engraved that they appeared
actually to move, and it seemed as though one
could almost hear their laughter and talk. A glitter-
ing, carved golden snake, curled around the brim
of the cup, served as a handle; its eyes were two
diamonds. After Peter Kurtz had feasted his eyes
upon this treasure for a long time, he arose sud-
denly, and, without saying a word, wrapped up
the cup in a napkin, drew his cowl more closely
around his face, and, taking his staff, prepared to
leave the house.
Where are you going, father?" said Kate.
I am going," said Peter, "to take this cup to
our master, the Baron von Dunderhead; that will
be far more to our advantage than selling it to
some petty goldsmith or other?"
"Take care what you do, father!" said Kate,
quickly. I foresee that danger will come of it, if
you fulfill your intention."
VOL. V.-28.


"Bah!" said Peter, and, without deigning
another word, he marched out of the house; for
Peter, like a great many men in those days, had a
very poor opinion of the feminine intellect, and a
very good opinion of his own. So off he marched
boldly toward castle Dunderhead.
When Peter presented the golden cup to the
baron, with a low bow, that nobleman could not
find sufficient words to express his admiration.
He sighed with rapture, and examined the cup
from every side with the utmost minuteness.
"Give this worthy man," said he, "four bags
of guilders; money is nothing to the acquisition of
such a treasure of beauty."
Here Peter secretly hugged himself, and chuckled
at his daughter's warning. Meanwhile, the baron
examined the cup with huge satisfaction. Sud-
denly turning to Peter, "Where is the saucer?"
said he.
The saucer?" repeated Peter, blankly. Please
you, my lord, it never had a saucer !"
"Never had a saucer?" repeated the baron.
" You don't mean to tell me that such a cup as that
was ever made without a saucer to go with it!"


"Nevertheless, my lord, Ihave no saucer," said
Peter, humbly.
You are deceiving me," said the baron, sternly.
Then, fixing his eye upon poor Peter, "Where
did you get that cup?" said he, abruptly. Me-
thinks you are rather a poor man to possess such a
Oh, good my lord !" cried poor Peter, "I will
tell you the whole truth. An old man in the
forest gave it to my daughter Kate."
"Do you expect me to believe such a story as
that?" exclaimed the baron. "You stole it, you


thief!" he roared, at the same time seizing Peter
by the collar. "Ho guards Arrest this man,
and throw him into the dungeon," cried he to his
"' MIercy mercy, my lord !" cried poor Peter,
falling on his knees. But the guards dragged him
off in spite of his cries, and popped him into a
dungeon, where he was left to meditate over his
folly in not heeding his daughter's advice.


Catherine waited anxiously for her father's re-
turn, but her fears told her all when night came
and he came not.
After she had put the children to bed, having
given them each a piece of bread, which she had
borrowed from a kind neighbor, she threw a shawl
around her head and started off in the direction of
Castle Dunderhead, where her fears told her only
too plainly her father was. The bars of the dun-
geon windows came upon a level with the ground,
like those of a cellar.
Father !" murmured Catherine.
Oh, Kate !" was the response, followed imme-
diately by the sound of violent crying, and Cather-
ine knew her father was there. Oh, Kate if I
-I had but 1-listened to you !" sobbed the poor
fellow; for, now that the discovery was too late to
avail him, he felt perfectly sure of his daughter's
superior intelligence. Then, with much sobbing,
he recounted all the particulars of his interview
with the baron. Can't you do something to get
your poor old father out?" continued he.
Kate was thoughtful for a moment. I '11 try,
father," said she, at length; and, bidding him a
hasty adieu, she hurried off. She ran, without stop-
ping, to where the little cottage stood in the forest;
but, as you have already probably guessed, the old
man was the Kaboutermanneken, his day's visit
was over, and he had descended once more into
the obscurity of the earth; consequently Catherine,
much to her perplexity, could not discover the
little cottage. After vainly seeking for some time,
she at length saw the hopelessness of her task, and
wended her way sorrowfully homeward. She lay
awake nearly all night, vainly cudgeling her brains
for some plan by which to deliver her father from
his confinement. At length an idea occurred to
her, and, smiling to herself, she turned on her
pillow and fell asleep until the sun shining in
her eyes awakened her. Then, arising, she donned
her best frock and neatest cap, and proceeded to
the Castle Dunderhead. She was directly pre-
sented to the baron.
My lord !" said she, falling upon her knees.

"Well, my pretty damsel," said he; for Kate
looked very sweet in her saucy cap.
My lord," continued she, and the tears rose
to her eyes as she spoke; "you have my father in
Ha !" exclaimed the baron, frowning,-" Peter
Kurtz ?"
"Yes, my lord."
Bring forth Peter Kurtz !" cried the baron to
the guard, and soon Peter made his appearance,
crying like a good fellow. Now that I have you
confronted with each other," continued the baron,
"where did your father get that cup?"
"He did not get it, my lord; an old man in the
forest gave it to me," answered Catherine.
"Humph !" grunted the baron. "Your father
has taught you prettily."
My lord," resumed Catherine, I came to buy
my father's liberty."
"Ha!" cried the baron, eagerly, "have you
brought the saucer?"
"No, my lord." The baron's countenance fell.
"But, if you release my father, we have a goose at
home that I will give you, and every egg it will
lay for you shall be of pure gold." The baron's
countenance lifted again. "This, my lord, I offer
Peter's eyes had been opening in wide astonish-
ment as Kate proceeded.
"Why, Kate," exclaimed he, "I don't know
about "
"Be quiet, father !" said Catherine.
The baron thought Peter's exclamation arose
from his regret at parting with such a treasure; so
his eagerness arose in proportion.
"Can you swear to the truth of this?" asked
the baron.
I can !" said Kate, firmly.
Peter could contain himself no longer.
"Why, Kate how can you "
"Be quiet, father interrupted Catherine,
He shall have his freedom," cried the baron,
eagerly, and the.cup to boot."
"We do not want the cup, my lord," answered
wise Catherine.
"Yes, but we do!" cried Peter; for, as the
prospect of his pardon increased, respect for his
daughter's wisdom diminished in direct ratio.
You shall have it! cried the baron; release
him, guards!"
One thing, more," said Catherine; a procla-
mation must be issued stating that you will never
arrest my father again in connection with this
It shall be done !" said the baron; upon which
he dismissed them both with the golden cup, which




Peter had accepted in spite of his daughter's prot-
That same afternoon the proclamation was'
issued, and Catherine carried a large gray goose to
Castle Dunderhead.
"Father," said she, when she returned, "since
you have accepted the golden cup, you must leave
this place, for the baron will always look enviously
upon you. Had you left it with him he would
have paid no more attention to you, but now it is
"Why so?" said Peter; "has n't the baron given
his promise that he will never arrest me or mine
again? And about that goose "
"Never mind the goose, father," interrupted

A,, ;
I '' '

'l_',"_ " i, i l

Kate. I say again that every egg the goose lays
shall be of pure gold."
"Well, I'm sure I don't understand it," said
Peter, testily; "and, moreover, I am not going to
leave Kaboutermannekensburg. The idea of your
trying to teach me wisdom !"
"No, I could never do that," murmured Kate,
with a sigh.
No, I should think not, indeed said Peter,
The baron could not make enough of his goose.
He had a splendid pen made for it, of ebony inlaid
with silver, the nest was of purest eider-down, and
a special page was appointed to escort it every
morning to the water and back. It was fed upon
sweet herbs and sponge-cake ; it grew enormously
fat; and, as time went on, its voice, its appetite,
and its healthy condition increased to an aston-
ishing extent. Only one thing troubled the baron,

and that was it did not lay. Every day he himself
went to the nest expecting to find the much-looked-
for golden egg, and every day he did not find it.
So matters continued for a long time.
One morning, as Kate and her father were at
breakfast, a squad of soldiers, headed by the high-
sheriff, marched into the house.
"Peter Kurtz and Catherine Kurtz, you are to
consider yourselves under arrest," said the sheriff.
But the baron has issued a proclamation that
he will never arrest me again," said poor Peter.
"You are arrested," continued the sheriff,
without paying the slightest attention to Peter,
in the king's name, upon suit of the Baron von
Dunderhead, for obtaining goods under false pre-
Catherine said never a word-not even "I told
you so "-but submitted, whilst poor Peter cried
like a very child.
They were thrown into separate dungeons, in
default of bail. Not many days elapsed, how-
ever, before they were brought forth to be tried by
the grand tribunal.
The king sat upon a chair of state, with a learned
judge at each side, to decide the extraordinary
cases that were brought before him.
Peter and Catherine were led up to the bar,
the latter calm and collected, the former weeping
bitterly, and continually crying, "if I had but
minded her if I had but minded her "
This doleful cry, which was continued in spite of
the violent vociferations of "order in the court !"
at length aroused the king's curiosity, and he in-
quired what he meant. Amid many sobs, Peter
contrived to tell the king the whole story. Had
I minded," said he, in conclusion, "when she
advised me not to take the cup to the baron; had
I minded when she advised me not to receive it
back again; or, had I minded when she advised
me to leave Kaboutermannekensburg, I had never
gotten myself into this trouble-miserable wretch
that I am Here he commenced sobbing afresh
with great vehemence.
The king put on his spectacles and looked at
Catherine. "Faith!" said he, "thou art much
wiser than most girls of thy age, and-ahem very
pretty, too, I vow !" Then, turning to the baron,
"Prefer your charge, baron," said he. Hereupon
the baron told how Catherine had given him the
goose for her father's freedom and the golden cup,
and how she had sworn that every egg it should
lay would be of pure gold.
"Well," said the king, "did she forswear her-
N-no, not exactly," hesitated the baron.
I said that every egg it laid for you should be
of pure gold, did I not?" said Kate to the baron.


"Yes, you did," snarled the baron, whose
anger was commencing to boil.
"And I say again," said Kate, calmly, "that
every egg it lays for you shall be of pure gold."
"Well, then, what is the matter?" said the
king, scratching his nose in great perplexity.

Catherine had made a great impression upon
the king, both on account of her shrewdness and
beauty; so, being a jolly monarch, he conceived
the notion of marrying her to the heir apparent.
The heir apparent had no objection, and so the
ceremony was consummated with great state.


i~ .----~-'- --_=_=
__iu _L i ; '- '


,; ,T ; -

". i :


"Why, your majesty," bellowed the baron,
losing all control of himself, it is a gander!"
The king burst into a roar of laughter.
"Faith !" said he, turning to Kate, "thou art
the shrewdest maiden in the world." Then, to the
baron: "The maid was right, and every egg the
goose lays shall be of pure gold." And so Baron
Von Dunderhead and his case were dismissed.

Even to this day the good folk of the kingdom of
Kaboutermannekensburg look back with longing
to the time when Catherine the Wise was queen,
and ruled not only her husband, but his king-
dom also.
As for Peter, he was appointed lord chief justice,
for one did not have to be very wise to be a judge
in those days.

OPEN the snowy little bed,
And put the baby in it;
Lay down her pretty curly head,
She 'll go to sleep in a minute.

Tuck the sheet down round her neck,
And cover the dimples over,
Till she looks like a rose-bud peeping out
From a bed of sweet white clover.





NOT long since I wandered along a pretty brook
that rippled through a narrow valley. I was on
the lookout for whatever birds might be wandering
that way, but saw nothing of special interest. So,
to while away the time, I commenced geologizing;
and, as I plodded along my lonely way, I saw every-
where traces of an older time, when the sparkling
rivulet that now only harbors pretty salamanders
was a deep creek, tenanted by many of our larger
How fast the earth from the valley's slopes may
have been loosened by frost and washed by freshet,
and carried down to fill up the old bed of the
stream, we will not stop to inquire; for other traces
of this older time were also met with here. As I
turned over the loose earth by the brook-side, and
gathered here and there a pretty pebble, I chanced
upon a little arrow-point.
Whoever has made a collection, be it of postage
stamps or birds' eggs, knows full well how securing
one coveted specimen but increases eagerness for
others; and so was it with me, that pleasant after-
noon. Just one pretty arrow-point cured me of
my laziness, banished every trace of fatigue, and
filled me with the interest of eager search; and I
dug and sifted and washed the sandy soil for

yards along the brook-side, until I had gathered
at least a score of curious relics of the long-departed
red men, or rather of the games and sports and
pastimes of the remen's hardy and active child

yards along the brook-side, until I had gathered
at least a score of curious relics of the long-departed
red men, or rather of the games and sports and
pastimes of the red men's hardy and active children.

For centuries before Columbus discovered San
Salvador, the red men (or Indians, as they are usually
called) roamed over all the great continent of

1 .I

p. 1
~ Ijv~I

II. 1 ,


North America, and, having no knowledge of iron
as a metal, they were forced to make of stone or
bone all their weapons, hunting and household
implements. From this fact they are called, when
referring to those early times, a stone-age people,
and so, of course, the boys and girls of that time
were stone-age children.
But it is not to be supposed that because the
children of savages they were altogether unlike the
youngsters of to-day. In one respect, at least,
they were quite the same-they were very fond
of play.
Their play, however, was not like the games of
to-day, as you may see by the pictures of their
toys. We might, perhaps, call the-principal game
of the boys Playing Man," for the little stone
implements, here pictured, are only miniatures of
the great stone axes and long spear-points of their
In one particular these old-time children were
really in advance of the youngsters of to-day; they
not only did, in play, what their parents did in
earnest, but they realized, in part, the results
of their playful labor. A good old Moravian
missionary, who labored hard to convert these
Indians to Christianity, says: Little boys are fre-
quently seen wading in shallow brooks, shooting



small fishes with their bows and arrows." Going
a-fishing, then, as now, was good fun; but to shoot
fishes with a bow and arrow is not an easy thing to
do, and this is one way these stone-age children
played, and played to better advantage than most
of my young readers can.
Among the stone-age children's toys that I
gathered that afternoon, were those of which we
have pictures. The first is a very pretty stone
hatchet, very carefully shaped, and still quite sharp.
It has been worked out from a porphyry pebble,
and in every way, except size, is the same as hun-
dreds that still are to be found lying about the
No red man would ever deign to use such an
insignificant-looking ax, and so we must suppose it
to have been a toy hatchet for some little fellow
that chopped away at saplings, or, perhaps, knocked
over some poor squirrel or- rabbit; for our good old
Moravian friend, the missionary, also tells us that
" the boys learn to climb trees when very young,
both to catch birds and to exercise their sight,
which, by this method, is rendered so quick that in
hunting they see objects at an amazing distance."
Their play, then, became an excellent schooling for
them; and if they did nothing but play it was not
a loss of time.
The five little arrow-points figured in the second
picture are among those I found in the valley.
The ax was not far away, and both it and they
may have belonged to the same bold and active
young hunter. All of these arrow-points are very
neatly made.
The same missionary tells us that these young
red men of the forest exercise themselves very
early with bows and arrows, and in shooting at a
mark. As they grow up, they acquire a remark-
able dexterity in shooting birds, squirrels, and
small game."
Evry boy remembers his first pen-knife, and,
whether it had one or three blades, was proud
enough of it; but how different the fortune of the
stone-age children, in this matter of a pocket-knife.

* '-It

'*' I


-l '-

In the third picture is shown a piece of flint that
was doubtless chipped into this shape that it might
be used as a knife.
I have found scores of such knives in the fields
that extend along the little valley, and a few
came to light in my search that afternoon in the


brook-side sands and gravel. So, if this chipped
flint is a knife, then, as in modern times, the chil-
dren were whittlers.
Of course, our boys nowadays would be puzzled



', ,

to cut a willow whistle or mend the baby's go-cart
with such a knife as this; but still, it will not do to
despise stone cutlery. Remember the big canoe at
the Centennial, that took up so much room in the
Government building. That boat, sixty feet long,
was made in quite recent times, and only stone
knives and hatchets were used in the process.
I found, too, in that afternoon walk, some curi-
ously shaped splinters of jasper, which at first
did not seem very well adapted to any purpose;
and yet, although mere fragments, they had every
appearance of having been purposely shaped, and
not of accidental resemblances to a hook or sickle
blade. When I got home, I read that perfect
specimens, mine being certainly pieces of the same
form, had been found away off in Norway; and
Professor Nilsson, who has carefully studied the
whole subject, says they are fish-hooks.
Instead cf my broken ones, we have in the fourth
illustration some uninjured specimens of these fish-
hooks from Norway. Two are made of flint, the
largest one being bone ; and hooks of exactly the
same patterns really have been found within half
a mile of the little valley I worked in that after-
The fish-hooks shown in our picture have been
thought to be best adapted for, and really used
in, capturing cod-fish in salt water, and perch and
pike in inland lakes. The broken hooks I found
were fully ,as large; and so the little brook that
now ripples down the valley, when a large stream,
must have had a good many big fishes in it, or
the stone-age fishermen would not have brought
their fishing-hooks, and have lost them, along this
remnant of a larger stream.
But it must not be supposed that only children

_ ___ ~______



in this by-gone era, did the fishing for their tribe, long before they were men, doubtless they were
Just as the men captured the larger game, so they adepts in catching the more valuable fishes that
took the bigger fishes; but it is scarcely probable abounded, in Indian times, in all our rivers.
that the boys who waded the little brooks with bows So, fishing, I think, was another way in which
and arrows would remain content with that, and, the stone-age children played.


By M. M. D.

.A VERY fair singer was Mynheer Schwop,
Except that he never knew when to stop;
He would sing, and sing, and sing away,
And sing half the night and all of the day-
: '. r' This "pretty bit" and that "sweet air,"
SThis "little thing from Tootovere."
Ah it was fearful the number he knew,
And fearful his way of singing them through.
/ 'At first, the people would kindly say:
"Ah, sing it again, Mynheer, we pray"-
S- [This "pretty bit." or that "sweet air,"
This "little thing from Tootovere"].
""-- -- They listened a while, but wearied soon,
)-1pI/1./I' And, like the professor, they changed their tune.
S Vainly they coughed and a-hemmed and stirred;
Only the harder he trilled and slurred,
Until, in despair, and rather than grieve
The willing professor, they took their leave,
1 -I And left him singing this "sweet air,"
/ And that pretty bit from Tootov&re;"
And then the hostess, in sorry plight,
While yet he sang with all his might,
\\ Let down the blinds, put out the light,
S- With Thanks, Mynheer Good-night! good-
night! "

My moral, dear singers, lies plainly a-top:
Be always obliging, and willing-to stop.
The same will apply, my dear children, to you;
Whenever you've any performing to do,
Your friends to divert (which is quite proper, too),
Do the best that you can-and stof when Jyo i 're throng?.





BOOM-ER-OOh, a boom-er-oom, a boom, boom, boom '
Zim-cr-oom, a zim-er-oom, a zim, zim, zim!"
IT was a familiar sound, that of the great bass-
drum. Puck Parker and Snarlyou and Kiyi had
all heard it, time and time again. These little
friends lived in Paris during the late war between
Germany and France, when the German army was
besieging the city, and soldiers were always march-

:1 3

.,4l ,.- -

ing a -


ing about to the sound of the drum. This morn-
ing all three of them were at the kitchen door that
opened into the corridor, which led into the court
where you had a view of the street. Snarlyou was
a little white Angora cat, and she puffed out her
tail and waved it angrily over her back as she
snarled fiercely at Kiyi, who was a little Prussian
pup. Unlike the army he represented, he was
getting the worst of the fray, and stood yelping in
a cowardly way behind the scraper. Puck was
doing all he could to encourage the dog by waving
his porridge spoon at him, but it was of no use.
Puck Parker was a fat-faced little boy, who was
leaning over the little gate in the kitchen door.
He had been very naughty this morning, having

run away with Kiyi, giving his nurse, Augustine,
a regular hunt for him. She found him at last,
wandering quite independently in beautiful Park
Monceaux, a favorite resort for nurses and babies,
where she had often gone with him before; and
she could have forgiven him easily enough for run-
ning away, had he not sprawled himself upon the
walk and kicked and screamed so that she could
scarcely get him home.
This Augustine was a peasant woman, and when
a little girl she had tended the sheep in the mount-
ains of Auvergne, wearing the picturesque peasant
costume and carrying her distaff with her. She
now had two children of her own, and every morn-
ing early before they were up she would kiss them
good-bye, leaving them in her sister's charge while
she went to take care of the little American boy,
of whom she became very fond. She would often
tell stories to him and sing funny songs.
As we have said, Puck was leaning against the
little gate which had been placed across the door
to keep him from running away, though it was of
no use now, for he was big enough to climb over it.
Augustine, to punish him for his naughtiness, as
well as to guard against such a thing happening
again that morning, had undressed him, knowing
that he would not be likely to run away with
nothing on but his little shirt.
At first, Puck was at a loss for amusement, and
so wandered disconsolately upstairs into his mam-
ma's room. She was seated at his papa's writing-
desk, while in front of her lay lots of little cards,
like this, Mr. and Mrs. Franklin Parker, P. P. c."
Some of these she put into small envelopes,
directed to people that she knew, and the rest she
shut up in her card-case.
What are those ? asked Puck.
These are cards," said his mother, which
your papa and I are sending to our friends, to let
them know that we are going away from the city.
The letters P. P. C.' in the corner stand for 'Pour
frendre conge,' which is French for 'To take
Is oo doing away," asked Puck, "an' me too? "
"Yes, you are going with us," replied his
Den me wants some tards, too," said the little
fellow; and Mrs. Parker, taking a number of blank
cards, wrote upon them, Puck Parker, P. P. c."
Cramming his mother's work-basket upon his
comical little head, he seized his cards and trudged



away to distribute them among
S/ his friends. If he could only
have gone out-of-doors, he could
have found friends enough to
S .' have given them to; but he
S' knew that Augustine would not
S', relent so soon, and so contented
S' himself with carrying them down
', I" ,', ; ( ',
S 1. ; to Snarlyou and Kivi. But they
were both out in the court, and
'. would not come to him, even
when he dropped porridge on
Sthe steps to tempt them.
Puck did not have many op-
\ | ., portunities todistributehis cards,
S', for the next day, while he was
i I '" at dinner with his father and
mother, they all heard a sound
S which went

Si" Booom-er-oom, a boom-er-oom !
S ', A boom! boom! boom!"

f It sounded as if some one was
playing an immense bass-drum,
a long way off, and playing very
j Listen !" Puck's father ex-
-' plained. "It is time we were
Soff; there are the cannon again,
i "- outside of the city."
i And so that very afternoon
:.- they left Paris. Can you guess
r-'.-'-2 how ? Not by the railway, or
*. '< by boat, or by omnibus, or by
-. --any ordinary means of travel.
S -. Guess again-something queer
this time. Not perched on the
''- ;J ckk back of a dromedary, or sent by
~'n 's express labeled This side up
J with care, C. O. D.," or tele-
graphed, or shot through the air
in a bomb-shell, though the last
is something like it. Yes, you
are'right now; they did go by
S There were Puck and his father
and his mamma, and an accom-
polished aironaut to guide the
balloon, which was one of the
S-- -- - best kind, and, as the professor
S" said, perfectly easy to manage.
You know, perhaps, that during
-i, the siege of Paris it was almost
.t-_ -impossible for any one to leave
the city unless he went up in a
P IN a CALu.oo." balloon, and floated off above


the besieging army. A great many persons escaped
from Paris in this way.
Poor Augustine was very sorry to lose little Puck,
who gave her one of his cards when he bade her
good-bye; and Kiyi set up a doleful howl when
they all left the court, as though he knew he should
never see them again.
When everything was ready, the balloon rose
into the air, and Puck nestled down in his mother's
arms and watched the ground and the roofs of the
houses sink away beneath him. That is, he looked
over the side of the car once, and saw them falling;
but it made him dizzy, and he did not try it again.
His mother saw the sick look about her little boy's
mouth, and said, pleasantly :
Is n't it nice ? It's better than having wings.
And then you can make believe you are in a big
ship ; see all those ropes stretching away up there;
they look just like rigging."
Puck gave a quick, frightened glance up, then
shuddered and said, faintly:
Yes, it's awful nice; but me's 'fraid, and so
The cold was, indeed, intense; and his mamma
wrapped Puck as warmly as she could in a shawl,
and held him tightly, and very soon be was fast
asleep. When he awoke, he found that his mother
was "also asleep, and his father was holding him.
He had forgotten all about the balloon while he
was asleep, and so looked dazed and startled when
he opened his eyes ; and his father, to keep up his
failing courage, sang cheerily:
Up in a balloon, boys,
Up in a balloon,
All among the little stars
That twinkle round the moon."
"Don't see any stars crinkle," said Puck; "nuffin
but ugly gray fog."
His mother awoke just then, and she caught her
breath with a gasp as she looked up, for all the
rigging of the imaginary ship had disappeared, and
a dense fog was folded close around them. The
balloon seemed, too, to have met with a new cur-
rent of wind, for it was rushing along with fearful
velocity, whither,-even the professor himself could
not guess. Looking downward, they saw the same
impenetrable fog, and the professor concluded to
let the balloon drift on in its course for a while.
Presently, Puck exclaimed: "Mamma, don't oo
hear ze bears g'owl ?" For some time, the others
had heard a low menacing grumble. It sounded
like the roar of machinery, with the falling of a
heavy trip-hammer at regular intervals, and it
seemed possible that they were in the vicinity of a
manufacturing town. There was a little light in
the eastern horizon, and Puck suddenly exclaimed,
" T'ere 's anoder b'loon It was the full moon,

instead, that rose majestically, and the fog seemed
to be disappearing. Looking down, the professor
thought he could see the land, and he allowed the
balloon to slowly descend. By and by, they could
all see that the ground was marked with white
streaks and spots, which they supposed to be snow.
Lower and lower sank the balloon, and still
Puck's bears continued to g'owl."
Suddenly, the professor uttered an exclamation
of horror-only two words, The sea But they
sounded like a sentence of doom to the travelers.
They were floating over a wide and angry sea !
The professor threw overboard a bag of ballast,
and the balloon darted upward again into space.
Where were they ? Was it the Bay of Biscay,
the North Sea, the English Channel, or the open
Atlantic ?
Very soon, the balloon began to descend again.
The roar of the waves was louder than ever, and
they beat the same tune that the great bass-drum
and the cannon had played:
"Boom-er-oom, a boom-er-oom
A boom! boom! boom!"-
for they were striking against a rocky wall, and the
white cliffs of Dover rose ghostly in the moonlight
before them.
The professor threw overboard his last bag of
ballast; Puck hid his face in his mother's dress,
while she, in the presence of that mighty danger,
sang a hymn. Mrs. Parker was one of the
singers in the choir of a church at Paris, and her
voice had been much admired; but she had never
sung before as she sang now. Her voice was sus-
tained instead of drowned by the roar of the sea,
and was re-echoed back from the rocky cliff mar-
velously clear and pure, as she sang Save me,
0 God, from waves that roll."
Slowly the balloon seemed to climb that sheer,
chalky precipice, frightening the sleepy sea-gulls
from their nests, but never grazing against the wall,
as it seemed as if it inevitably must. Slowly it
reached the summit, paused a moment poised over
the edge, then swept landward a little way, when
the guide-rope (which had been dragging in the
water) caught on the rocks, and it stopped. The
professor opened the escape-valve, and they alighted
from the car, and then walked to the brink of the
abyss and, silently and solemnly, looked down.
This was the last of aerial navigation that any of
the party ever indulged in. The professor packed
up his balloon and went to the United States to
exhibit it. Puck Parker left one of his "P. P. C."
cards in the car of the balloon, and his parents
were glad enough to get to a land where they did
not forever hear the Boom-er-oom, a boom-er-
oom, a boom, boom, boom," and the Zim-er-oom,
a zim-er-oom, a zim, zim, zim."


878.] EASTER EGGS. 419

-- --tW. 'A '' -. --" ---j. .* N..Q

1Brit d s scarred te s y le, -

And now and then a bird would trill.
-. The sky so blue where birdie sin
-- *' ,- ,_ ,

Said grandpa, This is Easter Day.I
Till Grace cried, "There is little Kate,
d Fr EASTER EuuS. -.. -' oh

i' ',-'N Followed the path-way t tothe mill; .

As Grace and grandpa carne in sight,
-- ''- Bright daisies starred the shady lane, \
S' And now and then a bird would trill. ," '

I i~~T Once, when a birdling spread its wings,
-' '. She said, "'All things are fair and gay,e-
SThe sky so blu h e sweetest little nsit

We want to show our prize to you l a
i i, '' Said grandpa, This is Easter Day." '"e

'Thus happily the God yd weith c
^'^. V/ a Till Grace cried, There is little Kate, V"
SThe mo. .n Frank and Nellie, too-and ohme b
Nell's swinging on the garden gatell i"

',lH | As Grace and grandpa came in sight,
1 :\The little ones to meet them sped,
i,.I .i Their eager, -prattling lips apart,
.* '.'*'. Eyes flashing bright and cheeks rose-red.

S I i "Oh, grandpa! in the hedge we've found
.: j] J. '., Four Easter eggs, all colored blue
' \ i ~ They're in the sweetest little nest;
-".' - iWe want to show our prize to you !"

f-.- .? Said grandpa, Touch them not, my dears;
.'V Those eggs God dyed with colors rare;
The mother-bird will soon come back,
And guard her nest with loving care.

These Easter eggs, in leaf-hid nests,
Imprison countless song-birlds bright,
That soon will break the tinted shell
And rise and sing in joyous flight."


, -



SOME years ago I went to see a great dog-show
at the Alexandra Palace, in the north of London.
My friend Charley, a bright boy who knows the
way all over this part of the city, was my escort.
We concluded to go to the show by the under-
ground railroad, and at half-past one o'clock we
were at the station called South Kensington. We
bought our tickets there, and passed through gate-
ways where men in uniform examined our tickets,
allowing but one person to pass at a time, then
descended two long flights of stone steps, and went
down, down, into the subterranean station.
Although it is nearly forty feet below the sur-

"- ';., '" i", 1 ''; -. \ '' "

-- "-

face, daylight is let in from above at this station,
as in many of the others on the line.
Before and behind us we could see the great
black-mouthed tunnels, through which the trains
were constantly passing.
When our train arrived we quickly found seats in

a car, or carriage, as they call them here, and were
soon rushing along underground.
Now and again we came out into the open air
for a while; soon we were at Bayswater, then at
King's Cross, at which station we got out of the
car and climbed up the iron stairs to the earth's
surface again.
From King's Cross to Alexandra Palace was a
ride of about twenty minutes more, this time on a
railroad which ran, for some distance, above the sur-
face of the earth. We sped above the tops of smoky
houses, by sooty walls, through egg-shaped tun-
nels, beyond all these to the open country, where
were smooth green grass, groups of
picturesque trees, and tangled hedges.
The train stopped at the station
called Muswell Hill, on which is built
the new Alexandra Palace-a large
red-brick building at the top of the
hill. It is not so extensive as the
Crystal Palace at Sydenham, but, like
it, is covered over with glass, and con-
tains tropical plants, many palm-trees,
several theaters and lecture-rooms, and
a large bazaar with gay booths, at
which you can buy almost anything
you wish for.
As we approached the central part
"i- of the hall, a deafening chorus of dogs,
yelping, barking, growling and howl-
ing, assailed our ears. The stalls in
which the dogs were chained were arranged to
form several aisles. They faced each other, with a
wide passage-way between, for the crowd of specta-
tors. The stalls were open, and each one had from
one to five animals chained in it.
The persons who exhibited dogs numbered one




thousand and thirty-nine, and, as each exhib-
itor sent several of his animals, you can roughly
estimate the immense number of dogs brought
It made my heart ache at first to see the poor
creatures jumping and pulling at
their chains. Some looked worried
and excited, and some of them
seemed bored to death, surly and
contemptuous, as if saying, "Go
away, or I will bite you if you stare
at me a moment longer; and some
were sulky and turned their backs,
hiding their noses in the straw.
The little puppies slept uncon-
sciously through it all, while the
mother dogs struggled with their -
chains and barked furiously.
There were greyhounds,-great,
tall, slender creatures, that looked as
if they could run a mile a minute,-
deer-hounds, beautiful pointers, set-
ters, retrievers, and otter-hounds. These last were
dangerous, and were kept in wire cages. There
were bull-terriers, fox-terriers, spaniels, white and
black Newfoundlands, shepherd dogs, mastiffs, and
fierce bull-dogs that looked as if they would be
glad to eat you without ceremony.
There was every variety of lap-dog, and among
them the tiniest little Italian greyhound,-not more
than eight inches long. This last was like a por-
celain toy dog, and looked brittle, as if its thin
legs would snap if much handled. I did not think
it a pretty pet; it seemed too fragile to play with.
A very different creature was a Siberian grey-

The pet dogs called "pugs" had short, black
noses, turned up in about as much of a curl as
their tails. Their faces were sooty-black, and
shone as if polished with a brush. They curled up
their black lips, showing two small, very white

..,... *- . ..-' ._- -.


teeth, with the tip of a pink tongue hanging out
of the mouth, the most comical, and at the same
time, the ugliest little beasts one ever saw.
They were straddled upon showy velvet cushions,
with their fore-paws wide apart, and their round,
black eyes looking straight at you, snarling all the
time, but not changing their position, being too
fat and lazy to move.
All the black-and-tan terriers had their ears so
cut as to make them very sharp and pointed.
There were beautiful spaniels of all shades, and
little Maltese terriers. One of these was a perfect
beauty. Its hair was like spun glass, of a bluish,
pinkish gray, snow-white in the part-
ings. When it trotted about, it
looked like an opal, or a piece of
live Venetian glass. Its name ought
to have been "Jewel," for it looked

n~F:- ~
Like one.
S- The King Charles spaniels were
... very like lovely English blondes,
Sv with their golden-brown ears hang-
ing like long curls on each side of
S i -- -- their innocent, milk-white faces.
S- They had soft, hazel eyes, of melt,
S.. -', ing tenderness, like those of the
S-.- -r., .. . .- _.,-:. prettiest little girl-baby.
"' .-- Most of these lay upon hand-
somely embroidered cushions, with
; ; the dog's name neatly worked in
front. One fairy-like specimen had
A BLACK AND WHITE POINTER. the name "Pixie" worked in silver
hound, about four feet and a half tall, with a long, letters on a sky-blue velvet ground. Another tiny
wolf-shaped nose, and covered with bluish, short, creature looked like a snow-white ball of floss silk,
curly hair rolled up in a basket of quilted blue satin.




Ladies' maids were seated in chairs beside these
dainty pets, with ivory-handled brushes and tortoise-
shell combs, to arrange their curls; for many of
them wore each a little top-knot curl, tied with a
scarlet, pink, or blue ribbon, as best became the
wearer's complexion.
I could think of nothing but a dancing-school
exhibition or a children's ball, where nurse-maids
sit by their charges, to keep their pretty finery in
order. So choice were some of these doggies that
they were covered with glass cases, open at the top.
The grandest of all the dogs-the one I would
have liked best to have-was a fine St. Bernard,

not bitten, for every little while you would see a
sudden falling back of the crowd, and hear a sharp
growl from some angry animal who was being
teased, or was impatient to go home.
The bloodhounds were the fiercest and most
sullen-looking of all. They did not join in the
general barking and uproar, but kept their heads
buried in the straw. Once, as we were watching
them, away off in a remote end of the building, an
acrobat began his performance of walking on a
rope and jumping through rings, high up in the
air. Then these hounds suddenly lifted themselves
erect, and, fixing their sharp eyes on that little


of a tawny color, with white spots, and a grand,
noble head. He sat up on his haunches and
allowed every one to come and pet him, lifting
his big, honest paw, as if to shake hands with the
little children, and wagging his tail slowly back
and forth in a very dignified manner. What deep
brown eyes he had, and what a soft, warm breast !
The Prince of Wales sent two black and brown
Thibet mastiffs from the north of India. They
had long, black lips, and wore a very stern, dark
expression. The Princess of Wales, also, sent a
snow-white Russian wolf-hound.
Some of the dog-stalls were labeled "danger-
ous," and I wondered that many of the persons
who poked at the inmates with their canes were

red and blue speck of a man suspended in the air,
set up a loud, long, unearthly howl, which all the
other dogs took up, and for a few minutes the
sounds shook the whole palace, like the roar of all
the wild beasts of the forest.
By and by four o'clock came, and the owners of
the dogs came in to take them home. How glad
they were to see them They jumped up, rolled
about, licked their keepers' hands and faces,
whining and yelping for joy. One dog, who had
not been sent for, was jealous to see his neighbor
petted. He growled at every loving caress, and sat
snarling in his corner, discontented and sour, till he
saw his own master, when he broke into a howl of
intense delight and tugged furiously at his chain.





-- _- _-- __-_
- -. ---
-- - - -

When the big hampers were brought to confine
the dangerous ones, and the collars and chains
were being unfastened, what a rollicking, rushing
time it was The glad creatures jumped and gal-
loped all the way to the station.
The train was full of dogs-they were every-
where. Eager to be off, they were hurrying up
and down the platform, dancing about the ticket
offices, racing over trunks, for all the world like
boys let out of boarding-school going home for
the holidays.
We saw their impatient faces pushing out of every
car-window, their tails wagging out of every door.
A gentleman in our carriage had two little mites
of terriers in his overcoat pockets. One, he said,
was a Skye, and the other a Yorkshire, terrier.
Little Skye was tired and sleepy, and showed just

i' ,' -"
I, .;. ,_-
-'I ,y a 'I

the tip of his nose and one ear above the pocket;
but little Yorkshire was perfectly wild with fun.
He had on a small brown blanket, bound with
scarlet braid, which his master said was his new
Ulster coat.
He began his pranks by putting his nose in
Charley's pockets, looking for a shilling. Not
finding one, the gentleman sent him into his own
coat pocket, whence, after burrowing and tugging
for a while, out he came, with a coin between his
teeth, which he held tight and would not give up.
His master said that when the dog found a piece
of money he went alone to the cake shop, and
the baker would give him a cake, which he would
run home with and eat up immediately, being par-
ticularly fond of sweets. He was two years and a
half old, ten inches long, with yellowish hair, which
hung in a fringe over his mischievous black eyes.
He was elastic as a ball of wool, and looked very
much like one.
But we had to part company with him at King's
Cross Station, where his owner put him in his
pocket again, and bade us good-bye. We could
see the tip of the little tail wagging till we lost
sight of him in the distant crowd.
It would take a long time to even mention all
the handsome dogs, and many of the young readers
of ST. NICHOLAS will not need to be told more
about them, as there have been several dog-shows
in America since the time when Charley and I saw
the one in the Alexandra Palace at London. The
boys and girls who visited any one of the dog-
shows held recently in New York, Boston, and
other American cities, will no doubt remember
many interesting and curious sights. But they did
not have a greater treat than Charley and I had,
all for the small price of one English shilling.









I -,

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S 11



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. ._ .. . .
-_ !~ ::?_---.i .. i :7 -- '
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:^ ^ ^', -.- "" ... -,

....- J ; i ..< .r ^ l .,iB.[.


., I




?.I X




SPRINKLE, sprinkle, comes the rain,
Tapping on the window-pane;
Trickling, coursing,
Crowding, forcing
Tiny rills
To the dripping window-sills.

Laughing rain-drops, light and swift,
Through the air they fall and sift;
Dancing, tripping,
Bounding, skipping
Thro' the street,
With their thousand merry feet.

Every blade of grass around
Is a ladder to the ground;
Clinging, striding,
Slipping, sliding,
On they come
With their busy zip and hum.

In the woods, by twig and spray,
To the roots they find their way;
Pushing, creeping,
Doubling, leaping,
Down they go
To the waiting life below.

Oh, the brisk and merry rain,
Bringing gladness in its train!
Falling, glancing,
Tinkling, dancing
All around,-
Listen to its cheery sound !



BLACKROCK SCHOOL could never be the same
again to Howard. Although he had the answer
of a good conscience in regard to the matters im-
plied against him, he could not but feel that,
whereas he once could challenge all the world
against holding a suspicion of his integrity, now
there might be many who were in a state of doubt
as to whether he were trustworthy or not.
He grew dull and somber, and, although he had
the satisfaction of knowing that no cloud of distrust
hovered over his home circle, he could not shake
off that uneasy feeling which haunted him, and
which none know how to appreciate save those who
have been wrongfully suspected.
It was the early summer season, and the time
was coming round for those school sports which
usually sink everything else into forgetfulness.
VOL. V.-29.

The cricket matches were planned, the bathing
and boating season had commenced, the woods
were green with summer verdure. In former years
Howard and Digby always had thrown themselves
heart and soul into all the sports, as leaders of the
school. But now neither took much interest in
things of the kind. Digby was morose and sullen,
while Howard was sad, and unusually depressed.
I have said that the bathing season had com-
menced at the school, notwithstanding the fact
that the weather was so changeable as to be one
night as cold as October, and the next morning as
hot as July. But I have not yet described the
bathing-place, and, perhaps, I should have done
so at the commencement of the story, as it accounts
for the somewhat singular name of the school.
The river ran just at the end of the school
grounds, within a stone's throw of the favorite
lounging-place of the boys, under the elms. The
river bank at that part was very steep, and just



under the clump of trees a huge black rock, fern-
grown and slippery, stretched out into the river.
At one side of this rock the bank shelved down,
gradually and evenly, into a large basin or hole,
partially overhung by the trees, and quite out of
the rapid current of the river.
This was the bathing-place, and it was one of the
best I have ever seen. The boat-houses were
about half a mile down the river, and bathing and
boating were two of the special features of Black-
rock sports. The Doctor maintained (as every
sensible person ought), that while cricket and foot-
ball are desirable, swimming is essential, and he
laid it down as a rule that everybody should learn
to swim, and that on no account should a' boy be
allowed to enter a boat until he was a sufficiently
good swimmer to get safely to shore, should his
boat be upset.
Monday morning was as bright and warm as the
previous evening had been cold and miserable.
Lessons were studied in the grounds instead of in
the class-rooms, and when the breakfast bell rang,
there were not a few who were talking about the
forthcoming bath and the evening row.
At prayers, Digby was absent. Not for the first
time, within the recollection of many; but as he
had not sent in any excuse for non-attendance,
Howard and McDonald, who occupied the rooms
next to his, were asked if they knew what had be-
come of him. Neither of them did, but McDonald
remarked that he was up earlier than usual, which
was not considered at all remarkable, as the morn-
ing was deliciously warm and bright.
The Doctor looked displeased, but no further
notice was taken before the boys, although he had
made up his mind to administer a serious caution
to Master Digby for irregularities, which latterly
were becoming so frequent as to call for special
The time for bathing was fixed for an hour after
breakfast, the doctor holding that while the weather
was unsettled, and the water cold, bathing was
more beneficial a little while after a light meal
than before.
A rush was made to the clump of trees, and a
pell-mell scamper down the steep bank. When
Mr. Featherstone, one of the masters, came up
two minutes after with some of the older boys,
amongst whom were Martin and Howard, he was
surprised to hear his name called loudly by several
of the boys.
What's wrong ?" he asked.
"Digby Morton's clothes are on the bank,"
cried Aleck Fraser, excitedly, "but we can't see
him anywhere."
Mr. Featherstone had all his wits about him.
He knew the rough stepping-places up to the head

of the Blackrock, from which he could scan the
river up and down. In a moment he was standing
on the rock, carefully taking within his view every
yard of ground within range; but he could see
nothing of Digby.
Martin Venables," he shouted from the rock,
"run to the house, and ask the Doctor to come
here at once. Howard and Aleck hurry down to
the boat-house, and inquire about Morton. Send
the boatman up at once with boats and men.
McDonald and Marsden, go up to the meadow-
dell and search. Look sharp, all of you !"
Swiftly sped the boys on their exciting errands,
while Mr. Featherstone remained upon the rock,
and the other boys with hushed whispers talked
together in little groups, or looked into the water-
holes with half-averted eyes.
Howard and Martin were the first to return, both
flushed with anxious excitement. Then came the
Doctor, sadly out of breath, and much distressed.
"But Digby is a good swimmer, is he not?"
asked the Doctor.
Few better in the school," answered Mr. Feath-
erstone. Idon't like to think of the worst, but
there are strong eddies in the pool this morning,
and the river runs at a furious rate after the heavy
rain. My fear is that he left the pool, and was
caught by an eddy, and swung upon the rocks.
In that case he may have been rendered insensible,
and so have been drowned."
The boys returned one after another, and each
unsuccessful. The boatmen soon arrived.
Have you heard or seen anything this morn-
ing of Mr. Digby?" asked the Doctor of Mason,
the manager of all the boating arrangements of the
"No, sir; but my man, who was going out to
see after his lines, about six this morning, said as
how he see something dark floating down the river,
but he did n't pay much heed to it, till he called it
to mind when the young gentlemen came down
just now, and said as how Mr. Digby were missing."
Then, should we not commence the search low
down the river?" asked the Doctor.
"-'Taint no manner of use," answered Mason;
"with the current running' like this, he'd be ten
mile away and more, by this time, if it was him,
or more likely out at sea, as the tide would have
met the river by this time. But you see, sir, it
might n't have been him after all, for there 's lots o'
snags and things floating down this morning after
last night's rain."
But Dr. Brier would leave no stone unturned.
Messengers were sent on horseback to every town
and village on either side of the river, for twenty
miles down; the river was dragged; boatmen were
sent out to search; everything that could be done



was done. But the afternoon came and no tidings.
Messengers were sent early to Mr. Morton. All
the towns and villages around were in excitement,
but nothing came of it, and by evening the convic-
tion was borne home to every heart, too clearly for
hope to set aside, that Digby Morton was dead.



PACING up and down the river bank in a terrible
excitement, or sitting in some solitary place with

S .

that it may not be true," until at length it was use-
less to hope against hope, a~d the strong man
bowed down his broken heart, as he said, '"0 God !
it is true."
And what of Ethel?
It was her first loss, poor child, and her ilrst con-
tact with a great appalling sorrow. She was per-
plexed and stunned with the dreadful blow.. She
seemed utterly alone nown; whether or not she
really could have relied on Digby in the past for
advice and guidance, does not matter-she felt she
could, and now this source of reliance had gone.

1, -'



K '.-


iis eyes staring vacantly, or with head buried in
his trembling hands, through which the tears would
trickle, a man might have been seen haunting the
neighborhood of Blackrock. It was Mr. Morton,
so altered that those who knew him best almost
failed to recognize in him the same man.
Let us not inquire too narrowly into the causes
of this remarkable change.
It was not until all hope with regard to the
recovery of Digby's body was abandoned, that it
was so strikingly apparent. At first there was the
rebellious cry from his heart, It cannot be true;
it shall not be true," and then a gentler and more
subdued frame of mind ensued, as he prayedc. Oh

Her father was changed, so changed that lie seemed
almost a stranger, and now in this crisis of her
need she felt that he could yield neither help nor
sympathy to her, while she was impotent to minis-
ter to him.
It was well for Ethel that at tihc time of her sad
visit to Blackrock, Madeleine Greenwood was there,
for in her she found a companion of her own age,
and a comforter as well as friend.
As the time drew near for Mr. Morton to return
to Ashley House, the attachment which had sprung
up between the two girls became closer and more
intimate, and when Ethel returned to Ashley Hoouse,
it was a very great satisfaction to her to have

I'll I.._

ti 'I.

a' 'i '"

*; 'I
* A -I _




Madeleine with her for a lengthened visit. a con-
cession which Mr. Morton could not deny to her
earnest entreaties.
The clothes of poor Digby, his books and school
treasures, were packed up and sent away. The
Doctor held a funeral service with the boys on the
Sunday after the catastrophe, and addressed them
briefly, but with great earnestness and emotion, on
the loss they had sustained, and the awful sudden-
ness of death, urging upon all the necessity of
preparation, as none knew the day nor hour when
the change would come.
A week later a marble column was raised upon
the spot where the clothes were found, bearing this
simple inscription: In loving memory of D. M.,
who was drowned while bathing, June 18, 18-.
aged 17 years."
On the evening of the day when the stone was
raised, Martin and Howard sat together beside it.
Howard was very pale, and looked as if he had
gone through a severe illness. He sat for some
time gazing at the monument, until a tear dimmed
his eye.
My good fellow." said Martin. why do you
give way to so much useless regret? You are so
morbidly sensitive that you seem to blame yourself
as though you had been guilty of poor Digby's
Howard made no reply to his friend's remark,
and for some moments remained quite silent. Then
he said: Martin, I shall never forgive myself
about poor Digby. I fear I have wronged him."
You wronged him ? What do you mean ?"
"I mean that in that miserable affair about the
miniature, I reflected the blame in some degree upon
him; I could not at the time help thinking that
he knew something about it, and I fear I caused a
.wrong suspicion to rest on him. It is useless to
give way to regret, but I do so wish I could speak
to him just once again, to say that I now feel that
I wronged him by imy suspicions."
Are you quite satisfied in your own mind, that
you did wrong him ?" asked Martin.
"Yes; something has happened which I have
not mentioned to a soul, and shall not, except to
you. Since poor Digby's death, I have lost my
overcoat. I wore it on that cold Sunday night,
and afterward hung it up in my room. I should
not have missed it, but that I had left in the pocket
my Bible-you remember the one, it wa:s given to
me by my father when I first left home for school.
I have searched everywhere for the coat, and can-
not find it. It is a great loss to me, for I would
have parted with anything else in the world rather
than lose that Bible."
"Have you not mentioned it to my uncle?"
asked Martin, his face taking on a sharper look.

No; he is worried and sad as it is, and I hate
the idea of reflecting upon fellows in the school.
It will turn up in time, perhaps, but I can't help
thinking that there must be some thief in the
school, and that the coat has gone where the minia-
ture went."
I really think it would be well to tell the Doc-
tor," said Martin.
Well, I may do so yet; but we break up next
week, and if the truth should not be discovered,
every boy will leave with a suspicion resting upon
him,-for this is not confined to the twenty,-and it
will do the school a great injury. But I tell it to
you, Martin, because as I shall not return after this
term, you know, you call keep your eyes open in
case anything should turn up about it."
"What a wretched break-up we are having, alto-
gether said Martin, after a little pause, in which
he was thinking whether to take Howard's view of
the case, or to still persuade him to make the matter
known. A break-up of Mr. Morton's home; a
break-up of the Doctor's health, I fear, for all this
anxiety has distressed him sadly; and a break-up
of our little fraternity here, for now that you are
going, and Digby gone, and Aleck Fraser is on
the move, our 'set' will never be made up again.
I hope, though, that our friendship will not be
broken up."
It never shall, if I can help it," said Howard;
"and now while we are talking about it, will you
promise to write to me, and tell me all about the
school, as long as you stay in it, and about the
Doctor, and Mrs. Brier, and especially all about
The promise was duly made, and unlike many
promises of a similar nature, was faithfully fulfilled.
The day before the breaking up, Dr. Brier asked
Howard to speak with him in the library.
My dear Howard," said the Doctor, putting
his hand on his shoulder, I cannot let you leave
the school without telling you how deeply I regret
parting with you. Your conduct has always been
exemplary, and your influence beneficial in the
school. I am sorry that the clouds have gathered
round us so darkly lately, but some day we shall
see through them, if we cannot at present. I want
you to know that throughout, I consider you to
have held a manly and a Christian course, and
you have my unqualified approval of your conduct,
as you have my sincere belief in the uprightness
and integrity of your character. God bless you,
my dear lad, whenever you go, and make those
principles which have distinguished you in your
school-life, useful to the world, in whatever part of
it your lot may be cast And now I wish to give
you this little present, as a token of friendship,
and let it serve as a reminder to you, that as long



as I live, I shall be glad and thankful to serve
It was a handsome set of books the Doctor gave
him, and more than all his other treasures of
prizes and friendly presents, was this one preserved,
for it assured him that the Doctor, who never said
what he did not believe, regarded him with the
same trust as ever.



THREE months had passed since the break-up
at Blackrock school, and Martin had faithfully fill-
filled his promise to keep up a brisk correspondence
with his old friend. But no letter gave Howard a
keener pleasure, than the one from which the fol-
lowing extracts are taken, and which will connect
the history of events:

MV ID AR OLD CHUM : Every day I seem to miss you more and
more, and I only wish the time had come for me to throw off school
and take my plunge, as you have done, into the great stream of life.
I don't take an interest in anything now; even cricket is a bore, and
the talks about forming for foot-ball fail to start me up. The Doctor
evidently misses you, and very often inquires after your welfare. He
is not himself at all. I think the end of last term shook him a great
deal. Mrs. Brier is as she always was. I don't know what some of
us would do without her.
Is not my cousin spending a very long time at Ashley House ? I
think I told you I was invited to go and see her there, and I could
write you a dozen pages or more about the visit, if time allowed-but
it does n't. Madeleine and Ethel are as thick as thieves. I can
quite believe that my cousin has cheered and helped them all very
much in this thmc of their great trial, and I don't wonder at any girl
loving her, for she is a first-rate companion, and as good as she is
I had a long chat with Mr. Morton, and he appeared to be much
interested in hearing me talk of poor Digby's ways and doings
amongst us. But you hardly know sometimes whether he is awake
or asleep when you are talking to him, for he keeps his head buried
in his hands. He seems regularly smitten down, poor man He is
talking of going abroad for some months, and I think it will do him
good. If lie goes, it will only be upon the condition that Madeleine
stays with Ethel. I should n't be surprised if she were to become a
permanent resident there.
I don't know if you ever heard Madeleine's history. It is a singu-
far one, like my own. Her father and my father were partners in
business. A fire ruined them both ; and, as you know, an accident
on the railway occurred which proved fiatl to both IMy poor mother
I never tknw, and she knew nothing of these troubles; but Made-
leine's mother had to bear them all, and the weight was too heavy ;
she died broken-hearted, the life crushed out of her by misfortune
upon misfortune. Fo, up to the present time, Madeleine and I have
been, to a very great extent, dependent upon others; and as our
circumstances in life have been so strangely similar, we are more like
brother and sister than cousins. I shall be very glad, for her sake,
if she linds in the Mortons more than is ordinarily found in chance
friends. And I shall be glad, for my own sake, when I can release
the dear old Doctor from the burden with which he willingly shackled
himself when he took me under his care.
I wish I could have a good long talk with you, my dear old boy,
on this and a hundred other subjects; but I can't. And now I must
knock off for to-night, as the Doctor has just sent for me.
P. S.-I write in a violent hurry. The Doctor has read some
extraordinary news in the paper just in from London. It is about
the missing miniature, found on a prisoner. He will leave here for
London by the 7-45 train in the morning. I want this to catch the

post, so cannot write more, except that tile Doctor wishes me to say
lie will be sure to see you before he has been long in London.
M. V.
This postscript threw the little household at Rose
Cottage into a great flutter at the breakfast table
the next morning.
"What can it mean ?" asked Howard. Have
you seen anything in the paper, uncle, to which it
refers ? I have not seen the paper for a week."
"'Pon my word, I don't know," said Captain
Arkwright. "It can't be-yes, it may, though.
Just wait a minute."
The Captain jumped up, snatched the paper of
the day before from a side-table, and began to
search for a particular heading, which, of course,
was not on the pages he had first opened.
Here it is he cried at length. It is headed,
SA.Fatal Chase.'"
"Let me see it," said Howard, almost trembling
with anxiety, as he ran his eye hastily over the
It ran on this wise:

A robbery was committed a few days ago on the firm of Robinson
& Co., of this city, a report of which appeared in our columns. From
information received by the police, a person who had taken a passage
on board the "Ariadne," for New York, was suspected, and warrants
were issued for his apprehension. The arrest was made, but as the
police were bringing the prisoner from the vessel to the quay, a violent
struggle ensued. Police-constable Janson was hulled by the prisoner
over the edge of the quay into the water, while he, quick as light-
ning, made a rush to escape. He fled as far as the end of the quay,
and was making for the draw-bridge, where le would soon have
gained the open road, when his foot caught in a rope, which threw
him with fearful violence over the wharf into the pool. In falling, lie
appears to have come into collision with a boat, and when his body
was recovered he was found to be quite dead. The deceased was a
young man of powerful build, and had taken his passage under the
name of James Williams ; but no clue has been obtained at present a,
to his antecedents. Upon his person was found a bundle of bank-
notes, a sovereign, and some silver, and in a side-pocket was a minia-
ture portrait of a young lady, of very beautiful workmanship, set in
gold and studded with precious stones. The police are making
searching inquiries, and as it is thought that this valuable portrait
must have been stolen, it is believed that it will lead to further dis-

IHow Howard got through his work at the office
that day, he was at a loss to know, for nothing
remained on his mind for a moment at a time,
except the vague and curious report about the
Fatal Chase, and the anticipated visit of the Doc-
tor with further particulars. No sooner had the
clock struck six, than he sped away from the office,
trusting to his legs to carry him more quickly than
the omnibus or car.
Before he had time to ask, "Any news of the
Doctor? a well-known voice was heard, and the
outstretched hand of his old friend grasped his.
"Well, my dear boy, how are you ? You see, I
need no introductions. Here I am, quite at home
in your family circle."
And what news, Doctor Brier ?"
"A great deal, satisfactory and unsatisfactory.


But come and sit down, and I will tell you the
whole story."
The whole story took a long time to tell, but it
may be summed up in a few words.
The unfortunate man, who met his death so
violently, was identified as a person who had once
been in the employment of Messrs. Robinson &
Co., ship-owners. The notes found upon him
were traced as notes he had received in payment of
a cheque forged in their name. But no information
could be obtained as to his antecedents, nor the
series of events that had brought his career to so
pitiful a close. The greatest mystery hung about
the fact of the miniature portrait; no clue of the
faintest kind could be obtained as to how it came
into his possession, but the Doctor had identified
it, beyond the least shadow of a doubt, as the one
stolen from Blackrock House.
It was necessary for the Doctor to remain in
town for some days, and \Mrs. Pemnberton would
not hear of his making a home anywhere else than
at Rose Cottage. To this he was nothing loth;
and to Howard, the presence of his old friend and
master in the house, was a source of unqualified
Many a time they speculated about the strange
secrets which lay locked up in that little miniature,
and wished they could devise some means to extoit
But we must watch and wait," said the Doctor.
I seem to feel satisfied that we shall clear up the
mystery some day."
The "some day" was very far ahead. Meantime,
a verdict of accidental death was returned upon
Williams. The miniature was formally made over
to the Doctor, and when hle had completed all the
inquiries which could be instituted, and was nearly
worn out with visits to and from the police and
inquisitors generally, he bade adieu to the little
circle of friends, and once more the veil, of which
only a corner had been lifted, fell over the cir-


H-OWARD PEMBERTON had thought often of his
future, even in early school-boy days, and many a
time he and Martin had talked together about the
great battle of life, and how to fight it.
They both were indebted to dear old Doctor Brier
for one thing; he had always insisted that the basis
of all achievement worth achieving was in charac-
ter, and that the basis of character must be a dis-
ciplined and educated sense of honor; the utter
despising from the heart of everything mean.
Howard was certainly one of those of whom it

might be predicted, that he was sure to succeed.
And he accepted the responsibilities of success;
and determined to make the best lie could of his
life. From his first start, he had thrown his heart
into his business, and common figures, and dull
routine, were to his' mind invested with a power
which could help him in his pursuit,-not the mere
pursuit of making money, but of being something.
Before a twelvemonth had passed, he had made
himself master of every detail in his business; at
the end of his second year, he was so invaluable
that he was intrusted with duties which the firm
had never before placed in the hands of any clerk;
and, at the end of his third year, the period of
which I now write, he had been told that on the
retirement of the senior partner he would be taken
into the concern.
I must, for the purposes of my story, relate some
of the principal incidents, which in the three years
that have elapsed, have helped to make up the
true life of Howard.
In the first place, his friend, Martin Venables, has
been his constant companion. Growing weary of
school-life, and longing to plunge, as he had said,
into the great stream of life, he had happened to
mention his wish, on his visit to Mr. Moiton, and
that gentleman, having taken a great interest in
Martin, had been successful in procuring for him
a good government appointment, in an office where
he found scope for honest labor, with vistas of
future promotion, dependent upon his own exer-
tions, and he was as happy as the day was long in
his new sphere of work.
He took up his abode near to Howard, and
scarcely an evening passed, except when he was at
the Mortons, which they did not spend together.
Madeleine was still at Ashley House on a visit,"
but with a few intervals, it had lasted for three
years, and Martin was a frequent visitor there,
especially after Mr. Morton's return from Italy. A
strong friendship had sprung up between the two,
and Mr. Morton certainly looked forward as eagerly
to the visits as did Martin.
And Howard, too, was a visitor at Ashley House.
At first, there was a great prejudice against
Howard in the Morton family. Ethel could not
bear to hear his name, for it was painfully asso-
ciated in her mind with poor Digby's death.
But after a time, through the quiet influence of
Madeleine's conversations about Howard and Mar-
tin's evident affection for him, this prejudice died
away, and Martin was invited to bring his friend
to Ashley House.
Acquaintance ripened into a true and earnest
friendship, and, under the influence of the young
people, Mr. Morton found sources of happiness
which he never had dreamed life could yield to him ;



and even Mrs. Morton had so far thrown off her
listlessness, as to be able to take an interest in
their plans and purposes.
It was a lovely summer evening, toward the end
of July, that the party of friends were all together
upon the lawn; they had drawn the garden chairs
up, and, after the game of croquet in which
Madeleine and Howard had succeeded in beating
Ethel and Martin, were prepared to devote the
remainder of the evening to chat. Seeing this,
Mr. Morton had put away his book, and drawn up
his chair beside them, while Mrs. Morton, regard-
less of falling dews and rising damp, had followed
the example of her husband.
"Now," said Mr. Morton, short holidays, like
this Saturday afternoon, are good ; but are not long
holidays better ? And now that everybody is think-
ing of taking a trip somewhere or other, should
not we 'do as Rome does,' and think of the same
I suppose, sir, we all have been thinking of it,
more or less, for the past year," said Martin; and
I for one must think of it seriously, for my holidays
are fixed by official rules, and begin very soon."

'And yours, Howard?" inquired Mr. Morton.
"I can take a holiday now, or later," he an-
swered. "But I do not generally get a month
straight off, as these government officials do. How-
ever, I shall try for a longer holiday this year than
I had last."
"Well, now," said Mr. Morton, drawing up his
chair more closely to the group, don't you think
we might make up a party, and all go somewhere
A burst of assents went up like a flight of rockets.
It was just the very thing that all the young
people wanted. And then began such a storm of
questions; such a variety of wild and improbable
suggestions; such a catalogue of countries as would
take years to explore, and such merry banter and
repartee, that even Mrs. Morton caught the enthu-
siasm, and threw herself into the proposal with a
vigor that caused her husband to open his eyes
wide in a gratified astonishment.
After discussing places, from Siberia to the
Sandwich Islands, the votes were unanimous in
favor of a tour to the North of Scotland, including
Skye and the Shetland Isles.

iI : ~c

i 1



(7To be continued.)




t.- -' '.- ,

THREE wise old women were they, were they,
Who went to walk on a winter day.
One carried a basket, to hold some berries;
One carried a ladder, to climb for cherries;
The third, and she was the wisest one,
Carried a fan to keep off the sun !

*- .. *i

~' "

"Dear, dear!" said one. "A bear I see!
I think we'd better all climb a tree!"
But there was n't a tree for miles around.
They were too frightened to stay on the ground;
So they climbed their ladder up to the top,
And sat there screaming, We'll drop we'll drop!"





: :- ._3 -7_ -- -=~ ---. .

-. --, ---s .+ -2:

But the wind was strong as wind could be,
And blew their ladder right out to sea!
Soon the three wise women were all afloat
In a leaky ladder, instead of a boat !
And every time the waves rolled in,
Of course the poor things were wet to the skin.

They put uip their fan, to make a sail;
But what became of the wise women then,-
----- I -i,, ,.

Then they took their baslket, the water to hail;
They pit up their fan, to make a sail;
lint what becalne of the wise women then,
Whether they ever got home again,
Whether they saw any bears or no,-
ou must find out. for I don't know.



By M. D. K.

1 I. '. UPPER was ready and wait-
:'V ing. Our guest had not
arrived, but there was an-
other train an hour later.
SShould the family wait for
'"', my friend, or should I
F alone, who wxas the per-
sonage especially to be
V visited? My father paced
Sthe floor nervously, as was
1 his wont when he felt dis-
turned. He had the even-
ing papers to read, and he
never opened them until
after tea. This was a habit
of his. He was very fixed
-or, as some express it,
set "-in his little ways.
It was Bridget's evening out, and she had begun to
show a darkened visage. Bridget was no friend to
companyny" and it was policy to conciliate her. So
the family seated themselves at the table, and I sat
near, waiting until brother John should be ready
to accompany me a second time to the station.
What about this young lady friend of yours,
Nelly? asked my father. Is she one of the un-
reliable sort-a little addicted to tardiness, that is ?"
I am obliged to confess, papa, that at boarding-
school, where I longest knew Jeannette, she was
inclined to be dilatory ; but that was years ago. It
is to be hoped that she has changed since then."
I should wish to have very little to do with a
behindhand person," said my father, shaking his
head very gravely.
"Oh, papa !" I remonstrated, you will not con-
demn a dear friend for one single fault. Jeannette
is beautiful and accomplished, sensible and good-
tempered. Everybody thinks she is splendid."
She may have very pleasant qualities, but I tell
you, girls," he added with sudden emphasis, that
a want of punctuality vitiates the whole character.
No one is good for much who cannot be depended
upon ; and what dependence is to be placed on a
man who is not up to his engagements ? In busi-
ness, such a man is nowhere; and in social life a
dawdling, dilatory man or woman is simply a pest.
But mind, my child, I am not characterizing your
friend; we cannot tell about her till we sec."
The later train brought my friend. She was pro-
fuse in her regrets; she had been belated by a
mistake in the time: her watch was slow. As she

was pouring forth a torrent of regrets and apologies,
I observed my father bestowing glances of evident
admiration at the fair speaker, while the rich color
came and went in her cheeks and her eyes kindled
with animation. Truly, beauty covers a multitude
of faults. Sister Bell, who was as punctual as my
father, was appeased, and promised to take care of
the tea-things and let Bridget go out. My father
good-naturedly offered to regulate the halting watch
by the true time.
To her chamber we went together, to talk as
girls do talk when they meet in this way, after a
long separation. Folding me in her arms, she told
me all about her recent engagement to George
Allibone; showed me her engagement ring, and
her lover's photograph. It was a noble head finely
posed, and a most engaging face, and my ready
and cordial admiration was a new bond of sym-
pathy. It took until nearly midnight to say all
that we girls, aged twenty, had to say to each
other; and this, in addition to the fatigues of travel,
was accepted as an excuse for Jenny's tardiness at
breakfast. She really had meant to be early.
But this was only the beginning. Throughout
the whole three weeks of her visit, she was scarcely
punctual in a single .case where time was definitely
appointed. She was late in rising, late at meals.
late at church and for excursions, and, to our pro-
found mortification, late for dinner appointments,
even when parties were made especially on her ac-
count. She seemed sorry and mortified, but on each
occasion she would do the same thing over again.
What can she be doing ?" my mother some-
times asked in perplexity, when my sister and I
were ready and waiting.
Doing her hair, mother," we answered," and she
will do it over until it suits her, be it early or late."
Oh, these hair-works sighed my mother.
H How much tardiness at church and elsewhere is
due to over-fastidious hair-dressing What is that
line of good George Herbert's? Stay not for the
other pin.' I think he must have meant hair-pins."
My sister and I sometimes agreed between our-
selves to compel her to readiness by standing by,
to help her in her preparations; but in vain. She
must write a letter or finish a story before making
her toilet. Why not accomplish the toilet first, to
be sure of it-any time remaining, for the other
purposes ? She did n't like to do so. No philoso-
pher could tell why. It is an unaccountable, mys-
terious something, rooted deep in some people's


natures-this aversion to being beforehand. I have
seen it in other people since the time when it so
puzzled and troubled me in Jenny. It marred the
pleasure of the visit most miserably. I was con-
tinually fearing the displeasure of my father and
the discomfort of my mother. The whole house-
hold were disturbed b.y what seemed to them down-
right rudeness.
"Now, Jenny," I would plead, "do be early,
dear, when papa comes with the carriage. It an-
noys him dreadfully to wait."
She would promise to try."
But pray, Jenny, why need you have to try.
It is easy enough. For my part, I never will make
any one wait for me. I go without being ready, if
need be, or I stay behind."
I had come to talk very plainly to her, out of
love and good-will, as well as, sometimes, from
vexation of spirit. For the twentieth time she
would tell me holw truly she had meant to be punct-
ual in some given case, and that she should have
been so but that she was hindered when nearly
ready by some unforeseen occurrence.
But, my dear, unforeseen hindrances will often
occur, and you must lay your account with them,
and give yourself extra time. You will run the
risk of meeting some great calamity by trusting, as
you do, to the last minute."
And the calamity did befall her. Mr. Allibone
spent a day with us. We were anticipating with
great pleasure a second visit, when a telegram
arrived requesting Jenny to meet him in Boston on
the succeeding morning. A business emergency
had summoned him abroad very suddenly, and he
was to embark for Liverpool in the evening.
We all sympathized with Jenny in the startling
effect of this sudden announcement, and offered
her every sort of help when the hour for her de-
parture was at hand. She had only to compose
herself and prepare for the journey. Sister Bell
would arrange her hair and bring her dress, and
she would be spared all effort. She seemed grate-
ful, but was sure she could be ready without
troubling any one. She dreamed not how much
she was, even then, troubling us, for we were begin-
ning to tremble lest she should somehow manage
to be late for this, her only train.
She kissed us all twice over when the hackman
arrived at the door but, suddenly glancing in the
mirror and observing how ashen was her usually
brilliant complexion, she declared against wearing
the gray cashmere in which she was dressed, of a
hue so like her face. George must not meet her
thus. She seized her black silk, with which, in
spite of remonstrances, she proceeded to array her-
self. There was time enough ; the carriage must
surely be too early. Alas for the ripping out of


gathers, in the violence of her haste, and for the
loopings of her skirt, not to be dispensed with!
Horses could not be made to do the work of five
minutes in three.
She saw the cars move off without her !
No words were called for. My mother carried a
glass of elderberry wine to the poor girl, and left
her alone to her tears. They would do her good.
We ourselves needed rest, after the troubled
scene of hurry and excitement, and we sat down,
feeling as if a whirlwind had passed.
It is beyond my comprehension," said my
father, when he came home to dinner. I can
understand tardiness," he continued, c .i.. .... 1,,,
" as the result of indolence. Lazy people dread
effort and postpone it. There is a man in my
employ who continues to work sometimes after
hours. The men tell me that he is actually too
lazy to leave off work and put away his tools. But
Miss Jeannette seems active and energetic."
She miscalculates, papa," I said. She always
imagines there is plenty of time until the last min-
But herein is the mystery," persisted my father.
"Whence this unifornzity of dereliction ? Why
not sometimes too early and sometimes just in the
right time, instead of always and everywhere late,
and making others late ? "
Poor girl !" said my mother, whose compassion
was uppermost. "I pity her with all my heart;
yet it is not a case of life and death. This trial
may be attended with beneficial results. We will
hope so."
I am sorry that this hope was apparently not to
be realized. The lesson failed to be read aright.
Jeannette recovered her serenity, and resumed her
tardy ways. A yet severer lesson was needed, and
it came.
The steamer in which, after an absence of ten or
twelve weeks, George Allibone was to embark for
home, was lost, and not a passenger saved.
My father took me at once to my poor stricken
friend, in her distant home. Pale and dumb with
grief, yet with tearless eyes. she let us take her
almost lifeless hand. From her bloodless lips came
only the low, anguished cry, If only I had said
farewell !"
What comfort in words ? We offered none. My
father's eyes brimmed over, and my heart was
breaking for my poor Jeannette.
But relief came speedily. The joyful news was
received that George was safe, having made a
necessary change in his plans, and would arrive in
a fortnight. Jeannette came up from the depths.
What should her thank-offering be ? She made
the resolution to become at once faithful to her
appointments, prompt and reliable. It was not


that she would try-she would speak the com-
manding words I will."
She has kept her resolution. Writing to me,
after a lapse of years, she said: You will hardly
know your dilatory friend. I remember and prac-
tice your advice of former years, to be first ready
for my appointments, and to reserve other work for
the interval of waiting after I am ready. It is sur-
prising how often I find not a moment left for

waiting. Still, I feel the old tendency to procras-
tinate, and I am obliged steadfastly to resist it.
'Delays are dangerous,' as our old writing-copies
used to run; the sentiment is hackneyed, but
oh, how true George says he owes you ten
thousand thanks for your faithful counsel, and we
shall speak them when you make us the visit of
which we feel so sure, because your promises, as I
well know, are faithfully kept."



MAURICE DE SAXE was a son of the King of
Saxony, and a fine lad he was-tall and strong and
handsome, and as brave as a lion. But the king,
like a certain old woman of whom you may have
heard, had so many children that he did n't know
what to do ; and so, as Maurice had such a lot of
elder brothers as to have not much chance of in-
heriting the crown, or anything else that would
keep him in bread and butter, his father sent him
out to seek his fortune, like many another prince
in those days. So he went over to France, and
entered the army of King Louis XV.
Now, at that time there was always a war going
on somewhere or other, and the French armies
were fighting in every part of Europe; and the
king cared very little who his officers were, or
where they came from, if they were only brave
men and clever fighters, and ready to go wherever
he liked to send them. So, as you may think, it
was not long before our friend Maurice, who was
quite as brave as any of them, and a good deal
cleverer than most, began to make his way. First,
he got to be a lieutenant, then a captain, then a
major, then a colonel, and at last, while he was still
quite a young man, he came out as Count de Saxe,
and Field-Marshal of the Army of Flanders, with
fifty thousand men under him That was pretty
good promotion, was n't it ?
But, although he had got on so fast, no one
could say that it was more than he deserved ; for
he was by far the best general that France had had
for many a cay. He beat the Germans, and he
beat the Flemings, and he beat the English, though
they fought against him as stoutly as men could;
and, at last, his soldiers got to have such faith in
him, that wherever he appeared the battle seemed
to turn at once, as if the very sight of him brought

good fortune along with it. And a gallant sight it
was to see him prancing along on his fine black
horse in front of the line of battle, with his plumed
hat and laced coat glittering in the sunshine, and
his sword gleaming in his hand, -and his dark
handsome face and large black eyes kindling like
fire the moment the first gun was heard. Every
picture-shop in Paris had his likeness in the win-
dow ; and King Louis himself had the marshal's
portrait hung up in his cabinet, and liked nothing
better than to invite him to dinner, and hear him
tell of all the battles that he had won. Indeed,
such a favorite did he become at court, that at last
nothing would serve the king but he must go to
the war too, and see how his friend Monsieur de
Saxe disposed of the enemy. Saxe gained the
victory, as usual; and after all was over, there was
a great supper on the battle-field, and the king
himself hung the Cross of St. Louis around the
marshal's neck, and the marshal sat at his right
hand in triumph, and thought himself the finest
fellow in the whole world.
But, curiously enough, the one thing that this
great general specially prided himself upon was
neither his skill in warfare nor his favor at court,
but simply his strength. There was nothing he
enjoyed so much as showing off the power of his
muscles, and astonishing the people about him by
bending an iron bar, or Iiii. a horse with one
blow of his fist; and he was fond of saying that he
would give his purse and all the money in it to any
man who was stronger than himself, if he could
ever fall in with him.
Now, it happened that, one day, while the French
and German armies were lying pretty close to each
other, Marshal de Saxe sent a message to the
enemy's camp, asking some of the German officers



to dine with him ; and after the meal he began to
boast of his strength, as usual, till at last an old
German general, who sat at his left, said that he
would like to see a specimen of what his Excellency
could do. Saxe made no answer, but took up a large
silver dish, which was standing before him, in his
strong white fingers (for, big and powerful as his
hands were, they, were white and smooth as any
lady's, and he was very proud of them), and, with-
out more ado, rolled it up like a sheet of paper 1
Can your Honor unroll that dish again ?" asked
he, handing it to the German ; and, although the
general was a strong man, and tried his best, he
found the task too hard for him, and was forced to
ownx himself beaten.
Your Excellency's strength is very great," said
he, "but, nevertheless, I venture to think that
there is one man in Flanders who can match it."
"And who may he be ? asked Saxe, frowning.
A blacksmith in the x II of Scheveningen,
Dirk Hogan by name. All the country around
knows of his exploits; and when I met with him
myself, I saw such things as I should have thought
impossible, had my own eyes not witnessed them."
When the marshal heard this, he looked blacker
than ever; and the first thing he did next morning
was to send off messengers in every direction to
inquire for a village called Scheveningen, and a
man named Dirk Hogan. And, sure enough, some
of them came back with news that there was such
a ll.,.. and that Dirk Hogan, the smith, had
been living there till quite lately ; but that now he
had sold his forge and gone away, and nobody
knew what had become of hiln.
This was a decided disappointment for our friend
Saxe, but he had something else to think of just
then. The enemy's army had lately received strong
re-enforcements, and seemed inclined to attack
him ; and he was riding out one morning to recon-
noiter their position, when suddenly his horse
stumbled and cast a shock.
There's a village just ahead of us, your Excel-
lency," said one of his officers. Shall I ride on
and see if I can find a blacksmith ?"
Do so," answered Saxe ; and the officer came
back presently to say that he had found what he
wanted. So the horse was led up to the door of
the smithy, and the smith himself came out to have
a look at it.
The moment he appeared, the marshal fastened
his eyes upon him as if he would look him right
through. And well he might ; for this smith was
such a man as one does not see every day-very
nearly as tall as. Saxe himself, and even broader
across the shoulders, while upon his bare arms the
huge muscles stood out under the tanned skin like
coils of rope. The marshal felt at once that he


could never be comfortable till he had had a trial
of strength with this sturdy-looking fellow; so he
bade him bring out one of his best horse-shoes.
The smith did so ; and Saxe, looking at it, said
quietly : This ware of yours is but poor stuff, my
friend; it will not stand work. Look here "
He took it in his strong hands, and with one
twist broke the iron like a biscuit.
The smith looked at him for a moment, and
then, without seeming at all taken aback, brought
out a second horse-shoe, and a third; but Saxe
broke them as easily as he had broken the first.
Come," said he, 'I see it's no use picking and
choosing among such a trashy lot; give me the
first shoe that comes to hand, and we'll cry quits."
The smith produced a fourth shoe, and fitted it
on; and Saxe tossed him a French crown-a coin
about the size of a silver dollar. The Dutchman
held it up to the light, and shook his head.
This coin of yours is but poor metal, mynheer,"
said he, saying the words just as the marshal had
spoken his. It wont stand work. Look here !"
He took the coin between his finger and thumb,
and with one pinch cracked it in two like a wafer.*
It was now the marshal's turn to stare; and the
officers exchanged winks behind his back, as much
as to say that their champion had met his match at
last. Saxe brought out another crown, and then a
third; but the smith served them in like manner.
Come," said he, imitating the marshal's voice
to perfection, I see it's no use picking and choos-
ing among such a trashy lot. Give me the first
crown that comes to hand, and we'll cry quits."
The Frenchman looked at the Dutchman-the
Dutchman looked at the Frenchman-and then
both burst into a roar of laughter, so loud and
hearty that the officers who stood by could not
help joining in.
Fairly caught cried the marshal, suddenly,
and added, What's your name, my fine fellow ?"
Dirk Hogan, from Scheveningen."
Dirk Hogan !" cried Saxe. The very man
I've been looking for! But I've found him in a
way I did n't expect i "
So it seems," said the smith, grinning. I
need n't ask who you are-you 're the Count de
Saxe, who was always wanting to meet with a
stronger man than himself. Does it seem to you
as if you had met with him now ?
"Well, I rather think it does," quoth Saxe,
shrugging his shoulders; "and as I promised to
give him my purse whenever I did meet with him,
here it is. And now, if you 'll come along with
me, and serve as farrier to my head-quarters' staff,
I promise you that you shall never have cause to
repent of having met with Maurice de Saxe."
And the marshal was as good as his word.

* John Ridd, the "Devonshire Hercules," ;i said to have achieved a similar feat more than once.


'.'" l. -. -' . ,,N ^ -?

r 1r,'1 _- 2, ,: .

J A 1 N-i -TI i- U Li 'T.

Ic is beginning to feel something like spring.
However, we must n't be too certain, for April is
the month for little tricks of all kinds. Let us be
careful and not be caught by make-believe spring
I 'M told that, eight centuries ago, girls and
women wore their hair in braids. Each woman
had two braids, which she slipped separately into
long, narrow cases of silk, or some other material,
and wound with ribbon. They hung like base-ball
bats. On the statue of a clueen of those times, the
braids, cased in this style, reached lower than the
Years ago, every British sailor dressed his hair
in a pigtail at the back, so that it hung

Long and bushy and thick,
Like a pumtp-handle stuck on the end of a stick."

I heard of one sailor whose mates did his hair so
tightly that he could n't shut his eyes, and he
nearly got punished for staring at his command-
ing officer,-a hair-breadth escape, as somebody
called it.
MY feathered friends tell me of a bird called the
knot, something like a snipe in shape, whose color
is ashen gray in winter and bright Indian red in
summer. They say he is very particular about the
weather, and likes best fine bracing days with sun-
shine and a moderate breeze ; so, in winter he flies
south, but in summer he goes farther north than
man has yet been able to go.
Now, I've been told that the farther north you
go, the colder is the climate; but this bird, who
likes pleasant weather so much, goes beyond the
coldest places known Perhaps he has found a;

cheerful and comfortable summer home, bright
and bracing, somewhere near the North Pole, on
which somebody will find him, may be, one of
these days, quietly perched, preening himself, and
looking at a distance like a bit of red cloth on a
broomstick. If he has found a cozy spot away up
there, he's smarter than any Arctic explorer I ever
heard of.
Johnstown, Pa., March, 1878.
DEAR JACK-IN-TH,-PULPI' : Some of your other chicks may like
to hear what my uncle has just told me about the mayflower, or trail-
ing arbutus, so as to know where to hunit for it as soon as spring
comes. It grows chiefly in New IEngland, New York, and Penn-
sylvania, and is always to be fo. .. ... . i... hills, and high
lands. Late in March or early i. i ., I I 'n and withered
leaves of last year, you will find it-cool, shiny, fragrant, with clus-
ters of star-like blossoms, the color being of all shades of pink from
very deep to a pinkish white. Yet farther under the leaves you will
find the . ... I hope many will join in the search for this
first swe, n i ring.-Your true friend, AMANDA S. K.

ON clear nights, during the first half of this
month, my dears, the star called Mira, in the con-
stellation Cygnus (or The Swan "), can be seen
in full luster. This is what the owl tells me; and
he adds that it is one of those strange stars which
vary in brightness. It shines for about a fortnight
very brightly indeed; then by degrees it fades
away, until, at the end of three months, it cannot
be seen. After remaining five months out of sight,
it gradually brightens up again. May be you 've
heard all about this before; but now is your time
to see Mira twinkle her bright eye at you. I'll
take a peep at her from my pulpit, myself, if I can
manage to catch sight of her.

Brooklinc, Mass.
DEAR JACI-IN-THE-PULPIT: Did you ever hear this story about
Agassiz? If not, please show it to the other boys -;-1 _--l- ---;-
One day, a man put together parts of various insects and submitted
them to Agassiz as n rare specimen. He also pretended not to know
to what species it belonged, and asked the professor to tell him. It
was April Fools' Day. -- a single glance at the object
and, looking up, said !-It I

H-ER 'S a bit of advice which Deacon Green
once gave to the boys of the red school-house. It
came back to me all at once the other day as
I was watching a plump little darkey eating a sour
pickle, and making very wry faces.
The Deacon said: "Whenever you come across
a word that you don't understand thoroughly,
don't rest until you have found out all you can
about it."
Sometimes words grow out of queer things and
in very odd ways. There 's "sardonic," for in-
stance. As applied to a grin, it means one that a
man makes if he is forced to laugh when he does n't
want to, or tries to smile when he really is ready to
cry out with pain.
Now, the birds tell me that in the island called
Sardinia there used to grow a plant with a very
disagreeable taste ; and whenever a piece of it was
put into anybody's mouth, it made his face pucker




up into a broad, unwilling smile-made him laugh
the wrong side of his mouth," as I've heard boys
say. Well, in course of time, the name of the
island was given to the plant, and then, with a
slight change, it was used to describe the wry face
the taster made.
So you see, my dears, some words are like puz-
zles. By the way, I 'd like to know what you your-
selves can find out about this same word "sardonic,"
for it may be that those chattering little friends of
mine, the birds, have been trying to make an April
fool of your Jack,-perhaps, just to see if I can
smile a "sardonic" smile when I find out what
they 've done.

THIS letter, and the picture I give you with it,
have just come to me. Now let's see what your
wits are worth, my dears.
The Red School-house.
MY DEAR JACK: I have a favor to ask of you. Will you please
show to your chicks a copy of the picture which I now send to you,

there large herds of reindeer browsing on the
meadows. This pleased him, and he called the
country Greenland."
The Little Schoolma'am says that this is correct,
and adds that in some parts Greenland is much
colder than it used to be. She wants to know if
you can give any reason why.

IN Japan, the 23d of April is a splendid day for
boys, I should think. I'm told that the Feast of
Kites is held on that day, with kite-fights and kite-
dances, and all sorts of good fun. Who knows
anything more about this ?

ANSWERS to the "Tobacco" and "Cares riddles
were sent by W. P., N. E., W. L. and F. H. Amer-
man, Nellie J.Towle, A. B. Easton, "Ned," L. C. L.,
E. E. B., Nessie E. Stevens, Mione," Mary H.
Barnett, Bessie," Lucy and Annie," A. R. S.,
and Wm. V. F. Several sent amended versions of

'! Vj

I I i i'

and ask them to give you the one word which will express the
meaning of it. You can tell them, as a clue, if you like, that by
means of what the picture means they can find out what it means.-
Truly your friend, THE LITTLE SCHOOLMA'ANM.
LETTERS have come from Andrew A. Bateman,
Frank Polley, M. E. Andrews, Edward Liddon
Patterson, Bessie B. Roelafson, and Horatio War-
ren, all telling much the same story-that a man
named Eric sailed from Iceland in the year 983,
and, reaching the west coast of Greenland, saw

both riddles, but no one has given a satisfactory
answer to Archbishop Whately's rhymed puzzle.
" Lucy and Annie send this verse as the solution:

To him who cons the matter o'er,
A little thought reveals,-
He heard it first who went before
Two pair of sales and 'eels."

I 'm afraid it is not the right answer, and I'm
beginning to think that the archbishop made the
riddle on the First of April !




TABBY was a great traveler. She knew every spot about the house-
from attic to cellar-and just where everything that she liked was kept.
There was hardly a rat or a mouse on the place that could hide from
her. She crawled into every dark corner of the barn ; could tell the num-
ber of eggs in each hen's nest; and often she took long walks through
the fields, creeping through every hole in the fence that was as big as
her body.
Besides all this, she rode about the farm-yard a great many times. She
had merry rides with little Harry in his baby-carriage, with Johnny and
Fred as horses; she had lain curled up on the great load of hay when
Mr. Dorr and the men drove in from the fields; and she had traveled
ever so many miles in the empty wagon, when the boys played it was a
train of cars. She liked this railroad journey best; but Fred always waked
her up at every station by his loud Too-oo-oo-t! At other times, she.
did not know that they were moving, even when Fred said they were dash-
ing along at a terrible rate!
But such a ride as the one I shall tell about, she never had had before in
all her life Indeed, she- would never have taken it-but she could not
help it. Ponto made her go. You see, Ponto and Tabby were good
friends. They lived and ate together; they ran races and played all sorts
of nice games; and they liked each other very much. Sometimes they had
little quarrels; but they soon forgot their anger and were friends again.
Every evening, when Ponto came into the yard, the two friends would
run down one little hill from the house and up another little hill to the
barn where Mary was milking. Ponto would keep the pigs out of the
yard, and Tabby would watch every hole in the barn floor for a rat or a
mouse. Then, when Mary was done milking, she would pour some fresh
milk into a pan for Tabby to drink.
But, after a while, there came a long rain-storm. Ponto had to stay
in the yard for two or three days. Tabby did nothing but doze! It
seemed as if it never would stop raining But it did at last; and when
Ponto and Tabby ran down the hill again, they saw at the bottom-a
pond deep enough to drown them both !'
Tabby did not know what to do. In all her travels she had never
crossed a pond of water. She was frightened, and would have gone back
to the house, but she looked toward the barn, and saw Mary and the pan
of milk waiting for her beside the door.




Ponto did not care for the water, for he could swim. So when they
came to the edge of the pond, he plunged in and was soon across. Then
he looked back to see what had become of Tabby. He thought she would
be at his heels.
But no There she was on the bank where -he had left her. Her
back was curled up till it looked as if it were broken, and her tail was

C- -__-I"

so except when she was angry.

;-C -- -4-

catch rats, and he knew that she could do some things that even he could
_VOL. V.-3.
:c ------ ------ :--- r-

VOL. V--3

VOL. V. 30o.


only replied with a cross Meouw," which he did not hear. Then he said
again, It's easy to swim across-come on!"
"As easy as for you to climb a tree," said Tabby, in an angry way.
This was too much for Ponto He could not climb a tree, and Tabby
knew it. When he was too rough in his play, she would run up into the
apple-tree, and there she was safe. So this reply made him angry. Tabby
should not have said it-but then, she wanted the milk
It is so easy that I can swim across and carry you, too," thought Ponto,
and then he plunged into the water again. When he reached the shore,
he seized Tabby by the back of the neck with his teeth, and rushed back
into the water. Poor Tabby She thought she certainly would be drowned.
But Ponto knew better. He held his head so high that the water hardly
touched her pretty little paws. So she kept quiet and did not struggle. It
was not so bad after all And besides, there was the milk!
When they landed, Tabby had a stiff neck for a while, and Ponto had to
shake his great shaggy sides until they were dry. Then they ran up the
hill as fast as they could go, and into the barn,-and almost into the milk-
pail before they could stop.
Tabby was very thankful to Ponto for this ride. She said to herself
that she would help him to climb a tree the next time that he tried. But
as she drank her milk, she was glad that they both could follow Mary home
by the long path through the orchard.
Tabby did not forget her strange ride. But she has never taught Ponto
how to climb a tree She has not even helped him up to the lowest limb.
Do you think she ever will?


LITTLE boy John is sleepy,
Little boy John can rest,
Now that the sun all its labor has done,
And ghne to its bed in the west.

Rattle goes into the closet,
Letter-blocks go there too;
Wait till the morn for the cow in the corn,
And the horn of the Little Boy Blue


Into the crib with Johnny,
SAs soon as his prayers are said;
Tuck him all in from the toes to the chin,
Alone in his soft, downy bed.

Then in the morning early,
Soon as the sun shall rise,
Little boy John, with the coming of dawn,
Will open his pretty blue eyes.

Butterflies in the garden,
Roses, and lilies fair,
Birds in the trees, and the big bumble-bees,
Shall welcome our little one there.

Yet if the day be rainy,
Dreary and dark the sky,
Still there is fun for our own little one,
In the nursery cozy and dry.

Beat a big drum all morning,
Build a card-house till noon,
Play after that with the dog and the cat,
Will keep little Johnny in tune.

Little boy John is sleepy,
Winks with his two little eyes,
Nods with his head-so we put him to bed,
And under the cover he lies.

\\ .





THE readers of ST. NICHOLAS are so familiar, by this time, with
the new cover of the magazine, that they can understand, better per-
haps than at first, how much this cover, which Mr. Walter Crane has
so carefully and thoughtfully drawn, is meant to express. The girl
or boy who will take the trouble to study the meaning of the many
distinct parts of w which the design is composed, will see that pretty
much every subject that ST. NICHOLAS thinks it well to talk about,
is, in some way, symbolized in the smaller pictures.
The department For Very Little Folks" is represented by a baby
in a cradle, with a youthful nurse reading to it. Below this scene,
"Jack-in-the-Pulpit" is holding forth to his hearers; and, in the next
picture, the poetry of the magazine is personified by a boy mounted
on Pegasus, the fabled winged horse that poets ride. A young
hunter, who shakes hands with a friendly gorilla, indicates that stories
of travel, in strange and distant countries, are to be found within.
In the upper picture, on the other side, two youngsters with tele-
scope and globe show that scientific subjects may be treated of in
such a way as to interest boys and girls; and a young artist, hard at
work, illustrates how industriously and earnestly our artists work to
make good pictures for the magazine. Sports and games are repre-
sented by the little fellow playing cricket, which, as well as base-
ball, is an excellent game, and often played in this country, though
not to so great an extent as in England, where Walter Crane lives.
The young sailor in his canoe, starting out on the wide ocean in
search of adventure, gives a good idea of how the readers of ST.
NICHOLAS go all over the world and see strange sights, in company
with the writers of our stories of fun and adventure.
There are still other things to be noticed on this cover. At the
very top, you will see a figure of young Time, probably the son of
old Tempus, who holds out a tablet to let us know what month the
number is for; and, at the bottom, are two round faces, like young
worlds, which show that children, in both the eastern and western
hemispheres, are always on the lookout for the coming of ST. NICH-
At the top are the muses of Literature and Art, who see to it that
we have plenty of good articles and pictures; while at the bottom are
the two grilins, who keep out everything that is bad.
In the center is St. Nicholas himself the good old patron of girls
and boys.
Down at the bottom of this central picture, in the left-hand corner,
just behind the girl's foot, there is a curious little design. That is
the artist's distinctive mark, which he often puts on his pictures.
INV. stands for invented, or designed, and under this are two V's.
In Old-English, V is the same letter as U, and these two V's stand for
double-u, or W-for Walter. Then there is a little picture of a crane.
And so we can easily see that the meaning of the sign is, "Designed
by Walter Crane."
Thus we have shown that this cover tells quite a story, and, if we
study it longer, we may see more in it than is mentioned here.

Roxbury, Mass.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have formed a club for playing battle-
door and shuttlecock. Our highest scores are 5084, I-- and
3496. Will you ask your subscribers, through the i" I n I ," if
they know of any higher scores ?-Yours truly,

Cincinnati, Ohio.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I am very busy now putting pictures on
Easter eggs, the insides of which have been blown out and replaced
by very fine caraway-seed candy, put in through a little hole at one
end and then covered by a picture. The money I get for these eggs
is for my Easter offering. Duck-eggs are the prettiest to use, because
they are of such a lovely greenish-blue tint. May be some of your
other rendes inay like to make some of these master eggs. Mamma
says she could scarcely keep house without the ST. NICHOLAS now,
and I think so too.-Your friend, GEORGE M. A.

h;-l- Ill.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS Will you be so kind as to a.11 .-1 Scot-
tish girl where to find the date when England claimed Scotland, as
Mrs. Weiss says, in her story about the "Arms of Great Britain," in
the January number of your magazine? I cannot find any such

date. King Edward I., I know, claimed it, but Robert the Bruce
disputed it so successfully that none have ever claimed it since.-
Yours respectfully, AGGIE NICOL.

William the Conqueror, in A. D. o072, subdued Malcolm III. of
Scotland, and received his homage. This was the first time England
claimed, and exercised, sovereignty over Scotland.

STELLA C.-Homer is the "Blind Man of Smyrna."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Will you please print this poem? It was
written for my brother Bertie, by a well-known authoress, within five
minutes, by my father's watch, and with the alteration of but one
word. I must tell you we gave her the subject. Hoping you will
print this poem, I remain yours truly, CHARLES H. M.

Do you wish to see her-
Bertie's future wife,
The maid who 'll share his fortune,
Brighten all his life?

This is how I see her,
In my fancy's eye:
Tall and fair and slender,
Cheerful, good and spry,

Eyes as deep as pansies,
Lips like cherries red,
And,a wealth of sunshine
Growing on her head.

Kind her voice, and gentle,
Sweet her merry laugh,-
There, I 've told you wonders,
Yet not told you half

Nothing could be better
Than this lovely maid.
Now let's see him get her;-
Hard work, I 'm afraid.

Monroeville, 0.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have for some time been anxious to take
the ST. NICHOLAS, but did not have the money. I was told that if I
would gather hickory-nuts enough to amount to the sum, I might
take it. I gathered three bushels, sold them, sent for the magazine,
and, last evening, received two numbers, with which I was very
much pleased.-Your faithful reader, CLARA LINDSLEY.

Danbury, Ct.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: A party of us boys read about Hare and
Hounds" in the October number, and we tried the game the Satur-
day after. We all spent the day at my cousin's; he lives on a farm
where there is plenty of room for us to run. Our "hare --.t 7ood
start, and though we ran hard and followed up the "scent 1, we
did not catch him. We caught our next hare though. We treat
to apples instead of candy. We think the game is great fun.
I have taken ST. NICHOLAS for two years and I think it is splendid.
I liked the Bass Cove Sketches," and mamma laughed heartily
when I read them to her. I am ten years old, and I hope to take
you till I am twenty.-Your constant reader,

A CORRESPONDENT sends us the following account of some inci-
dents of the great flood in Virginia last November:

After several days of rain, the James and other rivers rose very
suddenly, and caused great destruction of life and property, carrying
away houses, bridges, crops, and cattle, and covering large sections
of the country with water.
There were no lives lost where the flood came during daylight,
though many families lost food, clothing, and their homes; but where
the sudden rage of the waters burst forth at night, many people were
swept away and drowned.
Some one saw among the poor animals struggling with the waters,
a poor, frightened little rabbit, on a plank, running fiom side to side,
as it tossed and pitched up and down on the waves.
A queer instance of characteristic nature in an animal is worth



.. 1:... although the creature could scarcely be considered a
1... . i, the flood. One man, whose house was swept away and
lodged on an embankment lower down, had a pet hog, whose
dwelling had been under the house. Of course the man imagined him
drowned, as no one had thought of him in the haste of the flight.
The day after, when the fury of the waters was somewhat spent,
the man and his son paddled out to the house to see if anything had
escaped. On going in through the upstairs window, they found that
the hog had coolly walked in and up the stairs, and, selecting a
feather-bed, was now reclining very comfortably in the very middle
of it, entirely unhurt !
But only this gentleman of ease and the wreckers profited by
the great flood. To others it came like a cruel and stealthy foe,
sweeping all before its merciless rush. One little girl, two years
old, snatched from her bed and barely saved, said the next day, with
a little face still sunshiny, as she pointed to their roof, just seen, with
the upper windows above the waters: "Dess sec The flood came,
and it dess took everysing-dollies and all! I.

SEVERAL correspondents write kindly correcting an error in the
February "Letter-Box," page 301, in the item about "King Alfred
and the Cakes." It was "Prince William, son of Henry I.," not
"of Henry II.," who was drowned.

Athens, Ohio.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Reading what Jack said in February
about the little birds being killed by flying against the telegraph
wires, I i ... 1. I would write and say that we often pick them up.
They i, ... I pretty, as if they were asleep, as they are not cut
and their feathers are not rumpled. I also want to tell you about my
canary-birds. My little Toppie hatched three little singers, which I
named Tom, Dick, and Harry. I sold Harry to pay for my ST.
NICHOLAS. We sent Dick to a little girl who had been praying for
a bird. She was so glad to get it that she said she must be a good
little girl. We still have the other one, who is singing nearly all the
time. I was twelve on Washington's birthday. I have one sister
and three brothers, and we all love the ST. NICHOLAs.-Your affec-
tionate reader, HATTIE F. NOURSE.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I have a dolly twenty-five years old. I am
going to take her to Saratoga this summer. I think it will do her
good. I am seven years old. I like ST. NICHIOLAS ever so much.

Providence, R. I.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In the December number of ST. NICHOLAS,
in "A Chat About Pottery," I find on page 105 the question, Who
ever saw a blue dog ? and the answer, In life, no one, my dear."
During the past month I have seen, several times, a dog as blue as
the sky on a summer's day. He is of the "Spitz" breed, and, as
his master keeps a dye-house, we think he is used as an advertise-
He attracts a good deal of attention when on the street.-Yours
truly, EDVIN S. T1.

i. .... ...., N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: "[y uncles have tak... ~. i .':rICHOLAS
for me for three years, and I like it very much.
I see in your Letter-Box a letter from Alma Aylesworth asking
how apples were made to grow sweet on one side and sour on the
They take a sprout of the sweet and another of sour, just as near the
same size as possible, split each in two at the middle, press one-half
of each to a half of the other, put grafting-wax up the cracks, and
sett i in like any other graft.
For a few years, this limb will bear apples sweet on one side and
sour on the other; but when the tree gets old, the apples will be of
one flavor throughout.-I remain your faithful reader,
MAnIE C. CocKs.

Franklin, Pa.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I would like to have you tell me what Cleo-
patra's needle is. I read about its voyage in the papers.-Yours
truly, B. L. F.

The obelisk known as Cleopatra's needle, presented by the Khedive
to England, is a great stone that was cut out in one piece from the
quarries of Syene, Egypt, it is supposed in the time of Thothmes III.
(about 16oo years B. C.), when, also, it was set up in the temple of
Karnak, at Thebes. It is a tall, rectangular pillar, tapering from the
base to near the top, where it is pointed like a flattened pyramid; its
sides are inscribed with hieroglyphics. The obelisk was taken to
Alexandria bv Ouecn Cleopatra, and was named after her. Some

think that Cleopatra's Needle was another stone, quarried by order
of Rame.is II., and set up in Heliopolis, the City of the Sun; but
several obelisks have borne the name, and this may have caused
uncertainty about them. The former account is believed to be correct.

Ashland, Wis.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I saw, in your January number, two ways
pictured for carrying the mails. Here, where I live, on the shore of
Lake Superior, we see both ways at the present time. The mail
from Bayfield comes on the backs of packers, and on the railroad the
mails come from Mtilwaukie and other points south of us.
We have a jolly fire-place. It is large enough for Santa Claus to
come right down without any trouble; and he filled our stockings
full last year.-From your constant reader, ESTELLE WILMVARTH.

WE have received the following letters in answer to Alice Clinton's
question, in the February "Letter-Box," asking for a list of books
pleasant to read:
Ogdensburg, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Will you please tell Alice Clinton, if she
wants some interesting and instructive books, to read Dickens's
"Child's History of England" and Higginson's "History of the
United States."-Truly yours, LULIE JAMES.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you ever since you were
born, and I like you better all the while.
I think Alice Clinton would enjoy "About Old Story-tellers," by
lk Marvel; "America Illustrated," edited by J. David Williams:
and Parley's Universal History," as they are all very nice.-Your

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Inclosed you will find a short story which
my little brother wrote, as he said he wanted to write something for
good ST. NICHOLAS.-Yours truly, J. S. H.
Once there was a boy who did not obey his mother and went fish-
ing and fell into the water how frighten was the mother when she
found out that her boy was drowned and the father and mother began
to cry and one day a man came to comfort them. But he could not
and they never found that boy.

WE have received the following lines as an answer to the geograph-
ical puzzle in the February number:

Queen Charlotte the fair
To a ball did repair
In the city of A ire,
And met all the Adams carousing there,
Sweet Alexandria, Sydney the swell,
And noble young Ellsworth, who pleased her right well.
They praised her fine Cashmere, with Brussels to trim it,
But found it Toulon(g) and Toulouse the next minute.
Her shoulders were Chili, she thought she should freeze,
But a warm Paisley shawl put her quite at her case.
Her rich Diamond jewelry sparkled and shone;
Her shoes were Morocco, of smallness unknown;
And her kerchief diffused a sweet smell of Cologne.
A Snierior dancer, she floated around,
With Washingtoln o great or Col/umbus was found.
With MAadison flirting or dancing a jig,
Alonlgomery, Raleigh, she cared not a fig
For them, or for Jackson, who stared in surprise
When she said she was Hunsgary, coolly did rise,
And was borne off by Quincy from under his eyes.
At able, Elk', Sandwich, and she ate,
Sat drinking Miloselle and Madei* i.11 late;
Then, after an evening quite Pleasant, she said
Farewell to her hostess, and went home, they said,
With gallant Prince Edward, a gentleman bred.
LIzzI E. T.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I saw in the January number a recipe for
"chocolate creams." I have a very good recipe for chocolate cara-
mels. It is: Half a pint of rich milk, a square and a half (or an
ounce and a half) of Baker's unsweetened chocolate, softened on the
fire. Let the milk boil; then stir in the chocolate very hard; add
half a pint of best white sugar, and three table-spoonfuls of molasses.
Boil until very thick, taking care not to burn it Pour on buttered
tins, and, when nearly cold, cut in squares.
If you think this is a good recipe (which I am sure you will, as I



have tried it many times, and tave never known it to fail), please put A CORRESPONDENT, having read in the November number the
it in the "Letter-Box," and oblige, your interested reader, poem "My Girl," by Mr. Adams, sends us this clever imitation:

Butte Creek, Cal.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am ten years old, and live in the Sierra
Nevada Mountains, and my papa belongs to a mining company-
mining for gold. I have a hydraulic mine of my own, but I don't
get any gold out of it. I have a dog whose name is Flora, and a
wooden sword and dagger, and I play soldier with her and get
cleaned out sometimes.
We have no school here, but I study my lessons ever day, and
papa hears me recite at night. I study arithmetic, geography, spell-
ing, U. S. history, and writing. I may write to you again some
time.-Yours truly, SCOTTIE HANKINS.

Philadelphia, Pa.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I want to tell you about a girl we had. She
was a German girl, and she asked my father, who is a druggist, for a
label. She wanted to send it to Germany, so her friends could direct
the letters. On the label was printed, "Dr. Siddall, Mantua Drug-
store, Tinct. of Myrrh, No. 3526 Haverford St., W. Phila." She
sent this label, and when the answer came, the direction read, "Care
D)r. Siddall, Mantua Drug-store, Tinct. of Myrrh, No. 3526 Haver-
ford St.. AV. Phila."
We had a good laugh over it, to think that anybody would put
Tinct. of Myrrh on the direction of a letter.
I thought I would send you this to put in the ST. NICHOLAS, so
that everybody who reads this could have a laugh over it--Very
respectfully, J. R. SIDDALL.

DoRA's HOUSEKEEPING, by the anthor of "Six Little Cooks," is
a handy little book that tells about the troubles and triumphs of a
girl fifteen years old, who is left unexpectedly to take charge of a
house and provide daily meals for its six inmates. The story itself
is pleasant, and it introduces useful hints about household duties-
such as bed-making, sweeping, care of lamps, etc. The book is
adapted to beginners, for its recipes contain fuller detailed directions
than cook-books usually give. Solids and sweets are treated of in
common-sense proportion, and waste is guarded against with tasty
dishes prepared from remnants. The book is illustrated, and is pub-
lished by Messrs. Jansen, McClurg & Co., Chicago.

CHILD MARIAN ABROAD, by William M. F. Round, is a little book
with eight full-page pictures. It gives a lively and interesting account
of a bright little girl's adventures during a tour in Europe with her
uncle and aunt. She sees many great people and grand sights, plays
with a princess, gets into comical scrapes,-some with the help of a
little American boy named Harry,-and, altogether, has a delightful
trip, very pleasant to read about.

A little crib in "mother's room,"
A little face with baby bloom,
A little head with curly hair,
A little woolly dog, a chair.

A little while for bumps and cries,
A little while to make "mud pies,"
A little doubting wonder when
A little pair of hands is clean.

A little ball, a top to spin,
A little Ulster belted in,
A little pair of pants, some string,
A little bit of everything.

A little '-l-t:.-. .: boisterous air,
A little i..- don't care,"
A little tramping off to school,
A little shrug at woman's rule.

A little odor of 7--.
A little twilight .' with Ma,
A little earnest study, then-
A little council grave again.

A little talk about "my girl,"
A little soft mustache to twirl,
A little time of jealous fear,
A little hope the way to clear.

A little knowledge of the world,
A little self-conceit down hurled,
A little manly purpose new,
A little woman, waiting, true.

A little wedding gay at eve,
A little pang the home to leave,
A little mother lone at dawn,
A little sigh-my boy was gone!

L R. I.

E. I. S.-We believe that some consider it not quite certain whether
"thumbs up" or "thumbs down" was the sign of mercy. But
Appleton's "American Cyclopmdia" says that, when, in a Roman
amphitheater, a gladiator was overcome in fight, he was allowed to
appeal to the spectators; and, if they pointed downward with their
thumbs, his life was spared,-but if upward, his opponent dispatched
him on the spot.


I AM composed of thirteen letters in two words that form the name
of a king lately dead.
My 6 5 8 7 is the capital of his realm.
My 4 i1 6-2 to is the city of his birth.
MIy i 7 I0 2 3 12 is a noted port in his kingdom.
My 8 2 13 9 To is a cathedral city in his dominions.
L. H., V. H., -.

EACH anagram is formed from a single word, and a clue to the
meaning of that word is given, between brackets, after its anagram.
i. Any one can (trouble). 2. I anoint combs joininggs. 3. Cover
no sin (change). r-- -,: (perilous). 5. I'm no cereal (rite).
6. A mad girl .1 blue ant (fixed). 8. An egg dies
(liberate). w.


EVERY other letter is omitted.
I. A CONSONANT. 2. A wager. 3. A cit in Italy. 4. A part of H- D-T- M-C- w-O -o-H -E-1. -H-T -E -A--I -0 --. C. D.
the body. 5. A vowel. N. 1. s.

RiaEovE one word from another, and leave a complete word.
l. Take a crime from a clergyman's house, and leave an attendant.
2. Take a summer luxury from worthy of observation, and leave
remarkable. 3. Take savage from to puzzle, and leave a drink.
4. Take suffrage from a bigot, and leave a river in Great Britain.
5. Take to lean from a glass vessel, and leave an animal.


ACROSS: I. Oversight. 2. Clean. 3. To fall. 4. To jump.
DoWN: i. One hundred. 2. An article. 3. A color. 4. A title.
5. A part of the body. 6. A pet name for a parent. 7. A vegetable.
H. 1i. D.





FROM the letters of the word which describes the central picture, form words describing the remaining ten pictures. H. s. s.


0 o * ..

THE central letter, o, is given in the diagram, and is used for both
the Full Perpendicular and the Full Horizontal; but the central letter
forms no part of the words that make the limbs and arms of the cross.
FULL PERPENDICULAR, eight letters: An American sinnging-bird.
FULL HORIZONTAL, seven letters: An instrument of war.
ToP LIMB, three letters: A short, jerking action.
BOTTOM LMBn, four letters: Part of a chain.
LEFT ARM, three letters: A small gulf.
RIGHT ARM, three letters: An instrument for catching fish. n.

IN the full names of the nineteen presidents of the United States,
find the following hidden words, each of which is selected entire from
the name of some single president, although in one or two cases the
spelling merely gives the sound of the word that is to be found:
I. An insect. 2. A household task. 3. Two birds. 4. A faithful
woman. 5. A forest tree, familiar to school-boys. 6. Two Old Testa-
ment men. 7. Four New Testament men. 8. A product of the
mine. 9. Two products of the pig. Io. The thousandth part of a
dollar. it. A heavy weight. 12. An inhabitant of the western part
of Europe. 13. A famous spy, executed during the Revolutionary
war. 14. A line of soldiers. i5. One of the supports of a bridge.
16. Dexterity. 17. A river crossing and river obstructions. i8. Fish
eggs. 19. Affirmative votes. 20. A noted Philadelphia philosopher
and statesman. 2a. An old-time Grecian hero. 22. A useful timber.
23. An English statesman whose head was cut off. 24. A title-deed
to lands or estates. 25. Three musical syllables. 26. A title of the
Deity, mentioned in the Bible. 27. A delicious sweetmeat. 28. A
domestic fowl. 29 :.1' name. 30. Something added. 3r. One
of the members of I .....i c. MARVIN.


-----:I -~


1. PLEASING. 2. The ocean. 3. "A little house full of meat, with
no door to go in and cat." 4. A bar of wood. 5. A thought. 6. A
tribe. 7. Pleased.
The initials and finals, read downward, spell the names of two
powerful countries. DEL.

I 2
3 4 5
6 7
MY 3 4 5 is to obstruct. My I 4 7 is to bend under weight. My
2 4 6 is a carriage.
Place the letters in the positions indicated by the figures of the
diagram, and read therefrom my whole, which is the name of a large
island. H. fI. D.

ONE word taken from each sentence in succession will form the
I. Likeness begets love, yet proud men hate one another."
2. They that hide can find."
3. Trade knows neither friends nor kindred."
4. It is better to be happy than wise."
5. Gold may be bought too dear."
6. If you would have a good servant, take neither a kinsman nor
a friend."
7. "A gift long waited for is sold, not given."
8. It's time to sit when the oven comes to dough."
9. Only that which is honestly got is gain."
"o. Prudent people always ask the price ere they purchase."
ii. Good advice is never out ofplace."
12. Friendship is the perfection of love." CYRIL DEANE.


A WonD that means to cleanse, bchcad.
And leave of cloth a kind:
Behead again, and leave a seed
Canaries love to find;
Behead again, and it will leave
An animal behind.

Transpose my first, and it becomes
A set of antics gay:
Then curtail twice, and leave what oft
Projects into a bay;
Curtail again, and leave what boys
Will put in mother's way.

Transpose again, and find a word
To horses may apply;
Curtail it twice, and leave a step
That one can measure by;
Behead it, and you have a card
That often counts for high.

Transpose again, and bring to light
A well-known proper name
And in the very center find
A serpent known to fame,
That caused the death of one,-a queen,-
Who laid to beauty claim. H. nI. D.


A MEMBER of a legislative body; a plant; new; periods of time;
to allow, reversed ; a preposition; a consonant. A. C. CRETT.


A COMMONt ADAGE -"Well begun is half done."
Sweet was the sound when oft at evening's close
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose."
Goldsnmin's "Desertced '.
I. Euripides. 2 Tasso. 3. Southey. 4. Hume. 5. Irving. 6 i.
7. Wordsworth. 8. Hawthorne. 9. Lyell. o1. Davy. ai. Emerson.
12. Mann.
TRANSPOSITIONS.-T. I pass no. passion 2. Glare, large. 3. Let
this, thistle. 4. United, untied. 5. One cadet, anecdote. 6. Towels,
lowest. 7. Not impart, important. 8 Lambs cringe, clamberings.
EASY REVERSALS.-I. Drab, bard. 2. Reed, deer. 3. Door, rood.
4. Yard, dray. 5. Keel, leek. 6. Loop, pool. 7. Tram, mart. 8. Doom,
mood. 9. Part, trap. io. Room, moor.
DOUBLE DIAMOND.-Perpendicular : Ponderous. Horizontal:
Gathering. p
5 S
CURTAIL MENTS AND BRHEnADINGS.-Poe, poet. Raven, rave.
Bells, ells.
EASY NUMERICAL ENIG.MA.-Robinson Crusoe. Robin, cross,
EASY UNIONS.-I. Rest-o-ring, restoring. 2. Sweet-e-ned, sweet-
ened. 3. Inter-e-sting, interesting.

AN OLD oMsAXIM -" Light cares speak; great ones are dumb.'
0 P' E R A
DOUBLE CROSS-WORD ACROSTI.--Steam, Smoke. I. ScissorS.
2. TeaM. 3. EchO. 4. ArK. 5. MandrakE.
EASY DIAMOND PUZZLE.--I. T. 2. Era. 3. Trout. 4. Auk. 5. T.
F RP E S t
I N T t N S E
POETICAL REBUS.-" Oh, what a tangled welb we weave
When first we practice to deceive "
I Sco/t's "Marmon."
NUMERICAL ENIGMA.-Nightingale. Nigh, tii, "-1
DoUBLE ACROSTIC -Louisa M. Alcott, 1. .. .. Emerson.
I. LumbeR. 2. OpheliA. 3. UsuaL. 4. ImP. 5. SumacH. 6 An-
dreW. 7. MoosE. 8. AsyluM. 9. LakE. to. CondoR. n. Olym,
puS. i2. TO T3. TeN.
WORD SYNCOPATIONS.-T. La-wren-ce; wren, lace. 2. K-now-
ing; now, king. 3. De-fin-ed; fin, deed. 4. Re-fine-d; fine, reed.
5. W-ant-ed; ant, wed. 6. F-urn-ish; urn, fish.
CHARADE -Wedgwood.
ABBREVIATIONS.-I. Beryl, bey. 2. Crown, cow. 3. Fairy, fir.
4. Grape, gap. 5. Steam, sea. 6. White, wit. 7. Halts, hat. 8. Honey,
hoe. 9. Bevel, bee. o1. Pence, pen.

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES in the February number were received, before February 18, from Lucian J., G. L., N. E., G. A. R. C., Mattie E.
Doyle, Josie Brown, B. P. Emery, Ren6 L. Milhau, Willie C. Du Bois, "Dominic," M. H. F., lien Zeen," Ml. Alice Chase, W. L. and
F. H. Amerman, Louie C. O. Haughton, Frank Haughton, Alice Stedman, Kittie Perry, Annie L. Zieber, Georgine C. Schnitzspahn, Anna
M. Richardson, H. A. Warren, Constance Grand-Pierie and Sarah Duffield, W. Eichelberger, "Adelaide and P -";.'' Mason Romeyn
S Robert M. Webb, "L.," "Yankee Girl," Grace B. Latimer, F, L. Lockwood, Bob White," I i Robert Howard,
S. J. Towle, Eddie H Gay, Ray T. French, Gertrude C. Eager, . Weed, Arthur C. Smith, Addic Campbell, Bessie and her
Cousin," Lucy V. MacRill, M. W. Collet, L. C. I,., Hattie M. Heath, Little Eagle," Edith Wilkinson, Grace Van Wagenen, Nessie E.
Stevens, A. H. Babcock, Anna E. Mathewson, Clara B. Dunster, Ben Merrill, C. E. Sands, John Taylor, jennie Taylor, Harry Durand,
Nellie A. Hudson, Lconice B. Barnes, "Winnie, Brookline," Bessie L. Barnes. Louise G. Hinsdale, Lizzie B. Clark, Lizzie M. Dow, Mlabel
Barrows, Miller Bowdoin & Co., R. T. McKeever, Three Cousins." "St. Nicholas Club," Lizzie E. T., Anna F. Robinson, Florence E.
Turrill, Ida N. Carson, Camille and Leonie Giraud, New Friend," George J. Fiske, Florence Wilcox, Fred M. Pease; No name, Cam-
bridgeport; Eddie Vultee, Milly E. Adams, Perry Adams, Maude Adams, and Anna R. Stratton.