<%BANNER%>
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Frontispiece
 How Mandy went rowing with the...
 The silly goose
 Parisian children
 The Peterkins are obliged...
 The sing-away bird
 Old soup
 Under the lilacs
 Father chirp
 Where money is made
 A song of spring - Sam's birth...
 Wait
 The story of May-day
 Wild geese
 The charcoal-burners' fire: or,...
 Parlor ballooning
 Drifted into port
 Johnny's lost ball
 The king and the hard bread
 Discontented Polly
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover
 Spine


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!-- St. Nicholas, vol. 5, no. 7 ( Serial ) --
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mods:identifier NOTIS ocm0176
OCLC 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
(DLC) 2006255186; 55136171
mods:language
mods:languageTerm text English
mods:location
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:role
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:originInfo
mods:publisher Scribner,
mods:place
mods:placeTerm New York
mods:dateIssued -c1943.
mods:recordInfo
mods:recordIdentifier source ufdc UF00065513_00060
mods:recordContentSource University of Florida
mods:relatedItem original
mods:physicalDescription
mods:extent 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
series
mods:titleInfo
mods:title St. Nicholas.
mods:part
mods:detail Enum1
mods:caption Vol. 5
mods:number 5
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No. 7
7
mods:subject
mods:topic Children's literature -- Periodicals.
Literature for


St. Nicholas, vol. 5, no. 7
ALL VOLUMES CITATION SEARCH THUMBNAILS PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00060
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas, vol. 5, no. 7
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
Subjects / Keywords: Literature for Children
Genre: Children's literature
Periodicals
serial   ( sobekcm )
 Notes
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
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: UF00065513:00060

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Frontispiece
        Plate
    How Mandy went rowing with the "Cap'n"
        Page 449
        Page 450
        Page 451
        Page 452
    The silly goose
        Page 453
        Page 454
        Page 455
    Parisian children
        Page 456
        Page 457
    The Peterkins are obliged to move
        Page 458
        Page 459
        Page 460
        Page 461
    The sing-away bird
        Page 462
    Old soup
        Page 463
        Page 464
        Page 465
    Under the lilacs
        Page 466
        Page 467
        Page 468
        Page 469
        Page 470
        Page 471
        Page 472
        Page 473
        Page 474
        Page 475
    Father chirp
        Page 476
    Where money is made
        Page 477
        Page 478
        Page 479
        Page 480
        Page 481
    A song of spring - Sam's birthday
        Page 482
        Page 483
        Page 484
    Wait
        Page 485
    The story of May-day
        Page 486
        Page 487
        Page 488
    Wild geese
        Page 489
    The charcoal-burners' fire: or, Easter eve among the Cossacks
        Page 490
        Page 491
    Parlor ballooning
        Page 492
        Page 493
    Drifted into port
        Page 494
        Page 495
        Page 496
        Page 497
        Page 498
        Page 499
    Johnny's lost ball
        Page 500
        Page 501
    The king and the hard bread
        Page 502
        Page 503
    Discontented Polly
        Page 504
        Page 505
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 506
        Page 507
    The letter-box
        Page 508
        Page 509
    The riddle-box
        Page 510
        Page 511
        Page 512
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text









































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7 A M


MANDY AND BUB BY THE NETS. [Sec page 45o.]


_ ~ ~~ ___


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--
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ST. NICHOLAS.





VOL. V. MAY, 1878. 1

[Copyright, 1878, by Scribner & Co.]





HOW MANDY WENT ROWING WITH THE "CAP'N."

BY MARY HALLOCK FOOTE.


IT was the month of May-the season of fresh
shad and apple-blossoms on the Hudson River.
" Bub" and Mandy" Lewis knew more about
the shad than they did about the apple-blossoms,
for their father was a fisherman, and they lived in
a little house built on a steep bank between the
road above and the river below. Sometimes, on
cool, damp spring evenings, the scent of the
orchards came down to them from the hills above,
but the smell of shad was much stronger and
nearer.
Just in front of the house was an old wharf,
where fishing-boats were moored, and nets spread
for drying or mending. One morning, Bub and
Mandy were sitting on the log which guards the
edge of the wharf, watching their father and
brother Jeff getting ready to spread the nets for
next night's haul." Jeff was busy with the buoy
lines and sinkers, while the father bailed out the
boat with an old tin pan. The children were
rather subdued-Bub wondering how long it would
be before he could "handle a boat" like Jeff and
go out with his father; Mandy was expecting every
moment to hear her mother's voice calling from
the house. It was Monday morning, and Mandy
knew her mother would soon be starting for the
Hillard's, where she "helped" on Mondays and
Saturday.
These were the longest days of the week to
Mandy, for then she had baby to tend all by her-
self, and he was such a bother "
VOL. V.-3I.


Yes, there it was: "Mandy !-Mandy !-Mandy
Lewis/ don't you hear ?" Mandy kept her eyes
gloomily fixed on the curve of her father's back, as
it bent and rose in the boat below, in time with the
scra-a-a-pe, swish, of the bailer.
"What's the use making' b'l'eve you don't hear?"
said Bub. You know you've got to go "
I just wish mother 'd make jyou tend baby
once, and see how you'd like it !"-and Mandy
rose with an impatient jerk of her bonnet-strings
and slowly climbed the steep path to the house.
Her mother, standing in the door-way with baby
on one arm, shaded her eyes from the sun as she
watched the cloudy face under the pink bonnet.
It was always cloudy on Mondays and Saturdays.
Seems as if you did n't love your little brother,
Mandy-such work as you make of tendin' him !
Just look how glad he is to see you," as baby leaned
forward and began pulling at the pink bonnet.
" He's just had his bread and milk, and if you set
right there in the door, where he can watch the
chickens, I should n't wonder if he'd be real good
for ever so long. Father and Jeff wont be home
to dinner, but there's plenty of bread and butter
and cold beans in the closet for you and Bub.
You can set the beans in the oven to warm, if you
like-only be sure you put 'em on an old plate;
and you can divide what's left of the ginger-bread
between you."
Oh, mother! can't we eat it now ? said Bub,
who had watched his father and Jeff off in the boat,






HOW MANDY WENT ROWING WITH THE "CAP N."


and, now returning to the house, did n't quite know
what to do next.
"Why, it aint an hour sence breakfast! But
you can do as you like; only, if Mandy eats
hers, baby 'll want it, sure. Better wait till he's
asleep."
"All right; Mandy can wait," said Bub, cheer-
fully, as his mother set the plate of cake on the
table before leaving the house.
"Oh, Bub, I'm awful hungry, too !" said Mandy.
"You cut the cake in halves,-mind you cut fair,
-and hold my piece for me where baby can't see
it. Sit right here behind me."
So Mandy on the door-step, and Bub on the
floor, with his back against the door, which he
gently tilted as he munched his cake, were very
silent and comfortable for a minute or two.
The hens crawed and cackled, with cozy, gossipy
noises, in the sun before the door; the baby blinked
and cooed contentedly.
"Ready for another bite?" said Bub, holding
out Mandy's cake close to her left ear.
In a min-ute," said Mandy, with her mouth
full. Bub Lewis, aint you ashamed of yourself?
You've been eating' off my piece I saw you just
now -
"Aint, either! You can see great things with
the back of your head Here's your piece 'n'
here's mine. Yours is ever so much bigger "
Well, you've been gobbling yours's fast's you
could, and I only had two little bites off mine."
"Little bites! I sh'd think so! Don't know
what you call big ones, then So chuck full you
could n't speak half a minute ago. Here, hold
your own cake, and let baby grab it "
Well, I 'd rather give it all to him, than have
you eat it up on the sly! "
Bub walked down toward the water without
deigning a reply, but thought of several things on
his way which would have been more withering
than silence.
Mandy did not enjoy the rest of her cake very
much,-eating it furtively, so baby should not want
it, and dropping crumbs on his little white head,
which he kept twisting around, to see what she was
doing. She began to think that perhaps she had
been rather hasty in accusing Bub; but surely that
was the right-hand piece, instead of the left, he was
biting from? Well, anyway, it did n't much mat-
ter, now the cake was all eaten. The old rooster
had wandered round the corner of the house, where
he was presently heard calling to his favorite hen.
She ran, and all the others followed. Baby grew
restless, and made little impatient noises, and the
sun was getting very hot and bright on the door-
step. What was Bub doing down there among
the nets on the drying-ground ? He had been very


still, with his head bent down and his hands mov-
ing about for ever so long.
Mandy felt that, after their late unpleasantness,
it would be more dignified to take no notice of Bub
for a while ; but curiosity, and baby's restlessness,
finally prevailed over pride, and rolling up her
troublesome little burden in an old red shawl, she
trotted with him down to the river.
Bub," she said, after standing by him some
time in silence, watching him driving a row of
small sticks into the ground, "was it my piece
you was bitin' off? "
I told you 't was n't. If you don't b'l'eve me,
what's the use o' my sayin' so again ? "
"Well, I'm sorry, Bub. I just caught a sight
of you as I turned my head, an' I thought "
Oh, well, never mind what you thought; we've
heard enough 'bout that cake! Shove your foot
one side a little; I want to drive another spile
there. Them 's the hitchin' spiles on the inside."
What you building' ?" asked Mandy.
"Can't you see for yourself? What's built on
spiles, I'd like to know Meetin'-houses, may be
you think. This is Lewis's dock; all the day boats
and barges stop here "
Where's the water?" asked Mandy.
"Oh, you wait till high tire, 'bout four o'clock
this afternoon, 'n' you '11 see water enough "
Just then, a boy in a blue blouse, with a basket
of fish over his shoulder, came whistling along.
Perry Perry Kent Where you going' ?" Bub
called.
Down to little cove, to clean fish."
Oh, can't I go along and help ? I can scale a
herrin' first-rate ; father said so."
Aint herrin'; they're shad; got to be cleaned
very particular, too. But come along, if you want
to."
Bub," said Mandy, in an eager whisper, oh,
Bub, wait for me Baby's fast asleep. I'll lay
him right down here, in his shawl; the nets '11
keep the sun off, 'n' he 'll be real cozy 'n' nice till
we get back."
"Why don't you take him up to the house ?"
said Perry, looking with some interest at Mandy's
bundle. "'T aint a very good place for him here.
You '11 find us at the cove, all right."
He'll wake up sure, if I try to carry him up
the hill. See how nice he lays; and I'11 hang the
end of the shawl over this net-pole. I can see it
plain enough from the cove. If he wakes up, he'll
be tumblin' round and pull it off, so I'll know
when to come back for him."
"Well, it takes a girl for contrivance," Perry
said; and it was something in his manner rather
than the words which made Mandy, as she followed
the two boys, vaguely feel she was disapproved of.


[MAY,






HOW MANDY WENT ROWING WITH THE "CAP'N."


The cove was a half-circle of pebble beach,
washed by the ripples of a slowly rising tide, with
a wall of gray slate rock at the back. Hemlock-
trees leaned from the steep wooded cliff above, the
shadows of their boughs moving with the wind
across the sunny face of the rock.
It was very warm and still and bright. Mandy
climbed to a perch high up in the twisted roots of
an old hemlock, who, having ventured too far over
the edge of the cliff, was clinging there, desperately
driving his tough toes into the crevices of the rock,
and wildly waving his boughs upward and back-
ward, as if imploring help from his comrades, safe
in the dark wood above.
The river spread broad and bright below her.
Mandy listened, in happy silence, to all the myste-
rious rustlings and twitterings and cracklings in the
wood above, and the sounds, far and near, from
the river below. Now and then she looked to see
if the shawl still fluttered from the net-pole. She
was glad she came, and it seemed but a very little
while before the fish were all cleaned, and the boys,
sitting on a rock, skipping pebbles, and watching
for Perry Kent's father, who was coming in his boat
to take the fish up to the hotel.
Perry's father was always called Cap'n Kent.
He kept a kind of floating restaurant. One end
of his boat was boarded over into a closet, with
shelves filled with a supply of fresh fruit and berries
in the season, cider, cakes, pies, root-beer, lemons,
crackers, etc. His customers were chiefly the
"hands" on board sloops becalmed opposite the
landing, or passing barges and canal-boats, slowly
trailed in the wake of a panting propeller, or
escorted by dingy little "tugs," struggling along
like lively black beetles.
The Cap'n was a very tall man, and his arms
were so long that, as he rowed, he sat quite up-
right, only stretching his arms back and forth,
scarcely bending his body at all. This gave great
dignity to his appearance in a boat. His feet were
very long too, and when he walked he lifted the
whole foot at once, and put it down flat. Of course
he could not walk very fast; but so important a
person as the Cap'n could never be in a hurry.
As he held his boat against a rock while Perry
lifted in the basket of fish, he saw the wistful faces
of the children standing on the beach. Now, the
"Cap'n" considered himself a very good-natured
man, and good-natured men are always fond of
children. So he called out in a loud voice:
Whose little folks are you ? "
"Bub and Mandy Lewis," Mandy answered
quickly.
Bub nudged her with his elbow.
"He spoke to me, Mandy "
"Want to take a little row up to the hotel?


Let's see-your folks live by the old fishing' dock,
don't they? Wal, I can leave ye there coming'
back. You can tell your Pa that Cap'n Kent took
ye out rowin'."
I'd like to go, if you please," said Bub, who
was ready with an answer this time; but Mandy,
she 's got to tend to the baby."
The baby What baby ?" said the Cap'n,"
while Mandy whispered, crossly, "Bub, I think
you're real mean "
Oh, sir, baby's fast asleep up on the dryin'-
ground, where the nets are I could go as far as
that, if you 'd let me get out there,-if it would n't
be too much trouble, sir."
"Course it would said Bub, emphatically.
But the Cap'n," who was not so good-natured
that he liked to have small boys answer for him,
gravely considered the matter while he settled his
oars in the rowlocks.
Wal, it's some trouble, perhaps; but I don't
mind putting' myself out once in a while for a nice
little gal. Step lively now, young man! Come
along, sissy "
Mandy sat radiant in the little bow-seat, as the
boat pushed off. A great Albany "tow" was pass-
ing,-a whole fleet of barges and canal-boats lashed
together,-with calves and sheep bellowing and
bleating, cables creaking, clothes flapping on the
lines; a big steamboat, with a freight-barge under
each wing, plowing the water on ahead, and send-
ing the waves chasing each other in shore.
The little boat danced gayly on the "rollers."
A fresh wind blew toward them, and brought with
it a shout of "Boat ahoy! Hello, Cap'n! Got
any good stuff aboard ?"
Got some good cider," the Cap'n called in
reply, with strong emphasis on the last word.
"Come alongside, then! "
The Cap'n" condescended to lean a little on
his oars in pursuit of a bargain, and sent the little
boat spinning over the water toward one of the
barges in the rear part of the tow."
Some men in a row were lounging over the rail;
one of them threw a rope, which hissed and splashed
close to the boat. Perry caught it, and they were
soon under the lee of the floating village.
While the store was unlocked, and its wares
handed out, Mandy noticed, on the deck above,
a woman washing a little boy three or four years
old. He stood in an old wooden pail, with a rope
tied to the handle,-his little white body, all naked
and slippery, shining in the sun. One could hardly
help noticing him, he screamed so lustily as the
water was dashed over his head and shoulders.
Mandy saw how his face showed red and flushed
with crying, under the dripping yellow locks.
She thought uneasily of the baby, lying all alone






IHOW MANDY WENT ROWING WITH THE "CAP'N."


on the old dock; wondered if the sun had got
round so as to shine in his face, and how long the
" Cap'n" would stand there, talking with those
men. She was happy again when the boat dropped
behind and the Cap'n" turned toward the shore.
Perry," he said, just look at my watch-there
in my weskit-pocket on the starn-seat. What time's
it got to be ?"
Twenty minutes to one," said Perry.
"What time 'd I say we'd have them shad up
there ? One o'clock ? Wal, one o'clock it'll be,
then. Only we can't leave this little gal ashore
till we come back."
Oh, please -" Mandy began, in great dis-
may, as she saw they were passing the fishing-
dock. "The baby He's there all alone, and-
oh, Bub, the shawl's gone I must go ashore,
Cap'n Kent-please "
"Never mind, sissy; baby's all right. Bless
my soul! who'd want to carry off a baby ? There
aint no wild beasts roamin' round, and most of us's
got babies enough o' our own to hum, without
borryin of the neighbors. You'Il find him there
all safe enough when we get back. Them shad,
ye see, was promised at one o'clock up to the hotel.
Cap'n Kent, ye know, he never breaks his word."
"But you said -- Mandy began, in a dis-
tressed voice, when Bub interrupted her.
You 'd better keep quiet, Mandy. You would
come, 'n' now I hope you 'll get enough of it "
That was a very long twenty minutes to Mandy,
while they drew slowly nearer and nearer to the
steamboat-landing, and the little white and brown
houses of the fishermen, scattered along shore, one
by one were left behind.
"Now, Perry," the "Cap'n" said, as he un-
shipped his oars, while the children clambered out
of the boat, "just look at that ere watch again.
See if the Cap'n aint as good as his word. Five
minutes to one, eh ? Did n't I tell ye ? Hello,
sissy Where's that gal goin' to now? What's
your hurry ? I 'll take ye back in half an hour."
But Mandy was off, running like a young fox
along the edge of the wharf.
Cap'n," said Bub, "we're much obliged to
you, sir, and I guess I'll go on too. Mandy's
awful scared about the baby, and --"
Lord, what a fuss 'bout a baby !" the Cap'n"
broke in with his loud voice. Babies aint so easy
got rid of. Wal, may be you'll go rowin' with the
Cap'n again, some day. Tell yer Ma I've got
some first-class lemons, if she wants to make pies
for Sunday. Can't get no such lemons at the store."
But the Cap'n's last words were wasted, for
Bub was already speeding off after Mandy.
When he reached the fishing-dock, there she sat,
a dismal little heap, on the ground between the


net-poles. She had lost her bonnet; she had fallen
down and rubbed dust in her hair. Now she sat
rocking herself to and fro, and sobbing.
Oh, Bub! The baby was all she could say.
Look here, Mandy! Stop cryin' a minute,
will you?" said Bub. It's after one o'clock;
may be mother had only half a day at Hillard's,
and come home 'n' found the baby down here ; she
could see the shawl from the house."
Mandy jumped up. "Let's go see. Quick!"
she cried. But the string of one shoe was broken,
and the shoe slipped at every step. She stooped
to fasten it. "Don't wait, Bub. Go on, please! "
Then she felt so tired and breathless with running
and crying, that she dropped down on the ground
again to wait for Bub's return.
She heard his feet running down the hill, and
wondered if they brought good news.
No; the house was empty. No baby or mother
there !
I must go to Hillard's," said Bub. You'd
better stay, Mandy; you look 'most beat out."
His voice was very gentle, and Mandy could not
bear it.
Oh, Bub don't be good to me. I'm a horrid
wicked girl! What will mother say? How can I
tell her ? Then she broke into sobs again.
It was dreadful, sitting there alone, after Bub's
footsteps died away in the distance, thinking and
wondering hopelessly about the baby. Mandy re-
membered how his little head, heavy with sleep,
had drooped lower and lower, and tired her arms.
How gladly would she feel that ache if she could
only hold the warm little body in her arms again !
How still it was She could hear the children
at McNeal's, down the road, laughing and calling
after their father as he went away to his work.
There was fresh trouble in the thought of her
father coming home at night. Would it not be
better that she should go away and hide herself,
where no reproachful eyes could reach her ? Would
they miss her, and feel sorry for poor little Mandy ?
Would her mother go about looking pale and quiet,
thinking of her gently ?
Hark What noise was that under the drooping
curtain of nets? Now she does not hear it; but
presently it comes again-a soft, happy little baby
voice, cooing and talking to itself.
With joyful haste, Mandy lifted the heavy festoon
of nets, and crawled under. There, in the warm,
sunny gloom, lying all rosy and tumbled, with his
clothes around his neck, and the old red shawl
hopelessly tangled round the bare and active legs,
lay baby, cramming his fists in his mouth or toss-
ing them about, while he talked stories to the
gleams of sunlight that flickered down through the
meshes of the nets.


452


[MAY,








1878.] THE SILLY GOOSE.


How he had managed to roll so far, Mandy did
not stop to wonder about. She scooped him up
into her arms, the bare legs kicking and struggling,
and crawled with him into the open air.
There she sat, hugging him close, with her cheek


resting on his head, when the tired, anxious mother,
hurrying on ahead of Bub, came running down
the hill.
Many times after that, the.baby was a "bother"
to Mandy, but she was never heard to call him so.


THE SILLY GOOSE.
(An Old Story Re-told.)

BY E. A. SMULLER.


-Fl


THERE's a queer old story which you shall hear.
It happened, once on a time, my dear,
That a goose went swimming on a pond,
A pleasure of which all geese are fond.
She sailed about, and to and fro,
The waves bent under her breast of snow,
And her red feet paddled about below,
But she was n't a happy goose-oh no!

It troubled her more than she could tell,
That in the town where she chanced to dwell,
The saying of "stupid as a goose,"
Was one that was very much in use.


THE SILLY GOOSE.


1878.]







454 THE SILLY GOOSE. [MAY,

For sneers and snubbing are hard to bear,
Be he man or beast, I do not care,
Or pinioned fowl of the earth or air,
We're all of the same opinion there.

Now, as she pondered the matter o'er,
A fox came walking along the shore;
With a pleasant smile he bowed his head,
Good-evening, Mrs. Goose !" he said.
Good-evening, Mr. Fox! quoth she,
Looking across at him tremblingly,
And, fearing he had not had his tea,
Pushed a trifle farther out to sea.

She had little harm to fear from him;
For, with all his tricks, he could not swim,
And, indeed, his voice was sweet and kind.
"Dear Mrs. Goose, you've a troubled mind;
I only wish I could help you through,
There's nothing I would not gladly do
For such a beautiful bird as you."
Which sounded nice, and was really true.

Well, then, Mr. Fox," the goose replied,
It hurts my feelings, and wounds my pride,
That in these days my sisters and I,
Who saved old Rome by our warning cry,
Should be called the silly geese. Ah, me!
If I could learn something fine, you see,
Like writing, or reading the A, B, C,
What a happy, happy goose I'd be !"

"Now, would you, indeed!" Renard replied
As the floating fowl he slyly eyed;
I hardly know what 't is best to say,
Let's think about it a moment, pray,
I may help you yet, my dear, who knows?"
So he struck a meditative pose,
And thoughtfully laid his small, red toes,
Up by the side of his pointed nose.

"Ah, yes!" he cried, "I have it at last:
Your troubles, dear Mrs. Goose, are past;
There is a school-master, wise and good,
I know where he lives in yonder wood,
To-morrow evening, you shall see
In yon broad meadow his school will be,
He 'll bring you a book with the A, B, C,
And he'll give his little lesson free."

But now just listen, and you shall hear
About that fox; he went off, my dear,
And he bought a coat, and a beaver hat,
And a pair of specs, and a black cravat.
Next evening he came dressed up to charm,
With the little "Reader" under his arm,
Where the goose stood waiting without alarm,
For, indeed, she hadn't a thought of harm.






THE SILLY GOOSE.


Had she looked at all, you would have thought
She need not have been so quickly caught,
For the long red bushy fox's tail,
Swept over the meadow like a trail.
But 't was rather dark, for night was near,
And another thing, I greatly fear,
She felt too anxious to see quite clear;
She was simply a goose of one idea.

The school-master opens wide his book,
The goose makes a long, long neck, to look,
He opens his mouth, as if to cough,
When, snippety-snap! her head flies off.
Now, cackle loudly her sisters fond,
Who are watching proudly from the pond,
While off to the town that lies beyond,
The whole of the frightened flock abscond.

That day, the geese made a solemn vow,
Which their faithful children keep till now,
That, never shall goose or gosling look
At any school-master or his book.
So, if ever you should chance to hear
Them talking of school, don 't think it queer
If they say some hard things, or appear
To show a certain degree of fear;
It is always so with geese, my dear.


SLADY-BIRD, FLY AWAY HOME


455






PARISIAN CHILDREN.



PARISIAN CHILDREN.

BY HENRY BACON.


ARISIANS adore the sun-
Jshine. On a sunny day
S the many squares and
S parks are peopled by chil-
\l\ 1 dren dressed in gay cos-
S .'( tumes, always attended
S-', by parents or nurses.
S The old gingerbread ven-
ders at the gates find a
ready sale for chunks
of coarse bread (to be
-a thrown to the sparrows
and swans), hoops, jump-
-B. \- ropes, and wooden shov-
els,-for the little ones
are allowed to dig in the public walks as if they
were on private grounds and heirs of the soil. Here
the babies build their miniature forts, while the
sergents-de-ville (or policemen), who are old sol-
diers, look kindly on, taking special care not to
trample the fortifications as they pass to and fro
upon their rounds.
Here future captains and admirals sail their min-
iature fleet, and are as helplessly horror-stricken
when the graceful swans sally out and attack their


--_7


--- T-


EXTREIMES MEET.
little vessels, as when from Fortress Monroe the
spectators watched the "Merrimac" steam down
upon the shipping in the roads.
Here the veterans, returned again to childhood,


bask in the sun, and, watching the fort-building,
forget their terrible campaigns amidst snows and
burning sands, delighting to turn an end of the
jumping rope or to trot a long-robed heiress on,
perhaps, the only knee they have left.


__ _ii^ ^ 2_^ ---




THE STAFF OF LIFE.
Parisians are very fond of uniforms, and so begin
to employ them in the dress of citizens as soon as
they make their entry into the world, even before
they are registered at the mayor's office; for the
caps and cradles of a boy (or citoyen) are deco-
rated with blue ribbons, and the girl (or citoyenne)
with pink.
Every boys' or girls' school of any pretension has
a distinctive mark in the dress, and so has each
employment or trade,-the butcher's boy, always
bareheaded, with a large basket and white apron;
the grocer's apprentice, with calico over-sleeves and
blue apron; and the pastry-cook's boy, dressed in
white with white linen cap, who despises and ridi-
cules the well-blacked chimney-sweep, keeping
the while at a respectful distance. And we must
not forget the beggars, with their carefully studied
costumes of rags, or the little Italians, born in Paris,
but wearing their so-called native costume, which
has been cut and made within the city walls.
The little ones of the outskirts of the city are
generally independent and self-reliant youngsters,
and sometimes, before they are quite steady on
their feet, we meet them already doing the family
errands, trudging along, hugging a loaf of bread
taller than themselves. But the rosy plumpness


[MAY,






1878.] PARISIAN CHILDREN. 457


of the fields is wanting; for children are like cha-
meleons, and partake of the color of the locality
they inhabit, so these poor little ones are toned
down by the smoke and dust of the workshops.
Their play-ground is under the dusty, dingy trees


if they have not a servant to go with them, perform
that task themselves. In the schools for the poorer
classes, when teaching is over, the children file out,
two by two, the older children being appointed
monitors, and the little processions disappear in


7.
















THE VETERAN AND HIS CHANGE.
-2: P5B




---: s i:'. l _' -





= _-_ __ --_I=:=_--_'---_. . ...
1_--



THlE VETERAN AND HIS CHANGE,


of the wide avenues; but they have the same games
of romps their peasant mothers brought from their
country homes, and above the noise of the passing
vehicles we often hear their voices as they dance
round in a circle, and sing verses of some old pro-
vincial song.
The delightful hours spent in boyhood, going to
and from school, are unknown in the gay French
capital to children of well-to-do parents. Instead
of starting early and lingering on the way, they
watch from the window until a black one-horse
omnibus arrives, when a sub-master takes charge
of the pupil, and the omnibus goes from house to
house, collecting all the scholars, who are brought
home in the same manner, the sub-master sitting
next the door, giving no chance to slip out to ride
on top, or to beg the driver to trust a fellow with
the reins; and as it is the custom to obey all in
authority, the master is respected. Girls are either
sent to boarding-school or go to a day-school; in the
latter case, always accompanied by one of their
parents or a trusty servant. But the parents, if
their means will not permit them to send their boys
to schools that support a one-horse omnibus, or


different directions; the teachers standing at the
gate until they are lost from sight, for they have
not far to go, as there is a free school in each
quarter.
But I pity the charity-school girls. Although


It,, -.,~


'Ii-

-- I -


-2

7-
_, --- -:' , .' _-


THE ENEMY.
always neatly and cleanly dressed, they are all alike,
with white caps, and dresses which might have been
cut from the same piece. They file through the


X.~





THE PETERKINS ARE OBLIGED TO MOVE.


streets or public gardens, under the charge of the
"good sisters," and perhaps they stop to play or
rest sometimes, but I never saw them do so. Perhaps









\ ,

-; I

^*:! K


there is no real reason to pity these charity-children,
boys or girls; but I remember my own free and
happy school-days in America, and so I pity them.


THE PETERKINS ARE OBLIGED TO

BY LUCRETIA P. HALE.


AGAMEMNON had long felt it an impropriety to
live in a house that was called a semi-detached"
house, when there was no other "semi" to it.
It had always remained wholly detached as the
owner had never built the other half. Mrs. Peter-
kin felt this was not a sufficient reason for under-
taking the terrible process of a move to another
house, when they were fully satisfied with the one
they were in.
But a more powerful reason forced them to go.
The track of a new railroad had to be carried
directly through the place, and a station was to be
built on that very spot.
Mrs. Peterkin so much dreaded moving that she
questioned whether they could not continue to


live in the upper part of the house and give up
the lower part to the station. They could then
dine at the restaurant, and it would be very con-
venient about traveling, as there would be no
danger of missing the train, if one were sure of the
direction.
But when the track was actually laid by the side
of the house, and the steam-engine of the con-
struction train puffed and screamed under the
dining-room windows, and the engineer calmly
looked in to see what the family had for dinner,
she felt indeed that they must move.
But where should they go ? It was difficult to
find a house that satisfied the whole family. One
was too far off, and looked into a tan-pit, another


MOVE.


458


[MAY,


- -------------r----
~8'
C~E~I~






THE PETERKINS ARE


OBLIGED TO MOVE.


was too much in the middle of the town, next door
to a machine shop. Elizabeth Eliza wanted a
porch covered with vines, that should face the
sunset, while Mr. Peterkin thought it would not
be convenient to sit there looking toward the west
in the late afternoon, (which was his only leisure
time) for the sun would shine in his face. The
little boys wanted a house with a great many
doors, so that they could go in and out often. But
Mr. Peterkin did not like so much slamming, and
felt there was more danger of burglars with so
many doors. Agamemnon wanted an observatory,
and Solomon John a shed for a workshop. If he
could have carpenters' tools and a work-bench, he
could build an observatory, if it were wanted.
But it was necessary to decide upon something,
for they must leave their house directly. So they
were obliged to take Mr. Finch's at the Corners.
It satisfied none of the family. The porch was a
piazza, and was opposite a barn. There were
three other doors,-too many to please Mr. Peter-
kin, and not enough for the little boys. There
was no observatory, and nothing to observe, if
there were one, as the house was too low, and
some high trees shut out any view. Elizabeth
Eliza had hoped for a view, but Mr. Peterkin con-
soled her by deciding it was more healthy to have
to walk for a view, and Mrs. Peterkin agreed that
they might get tired of the same every day.
And everybody was glad a selection was made,
and the little boys carried their India rubber boots
the very first afternoon.
Elizabeth Eliza wanted to have some system in
the moving, and spent the evening in drawing up
a plan. It would be easy to arrange everything
beforehand, so that there should not be the con-
fusion that her mother dreaded, and the discomfort
they had in their last move. Mrs. Peterkin shook
her head, she did not think it possible to move
with any comfort. Agamemnon said a great deal
could be done with a list and a programme.
Elizabeth Eliza declared if all were well arranged
a programme would make it perfectly easy. They
were to have new parlor carpets, which could be
put down in the new house the first thing. Then
the parlor furniture could be moved in, and there
would be two comfortable rooms, in which Mr. and
Mrs. Peterkin could sit, while the rest of the move
went on. Then the old parlor carpets could be
taken up for the new dining-room and the down-
stairs bedroom, and the family could meanwhile
dine at the old house. Mr. Peterkin did not
object to this, though the distance was consider-
able, as he felt exercise would be good for them
all. Elizabeth Eliza's programme then arranged
that the dining-room furniture could be moved the
third day, by which time one of the old parlor


carpets would be down in the new dining-room,
and they could still sleep in the old house. Thus
there would always be a quiet, comfortable place
in one house or the other. Each night when Mr.
Peterkin came home, he would find some place for
quiet thought and rest, and each day there should
be moved only the furniture needed for a certain
room. Great confusion would be avoided and
nothing misplaced. Elizabeth Eliza wrote these
last words at the head of her programme-" Mis-
place nothing." And Agamemnon made a copy
of the programme for each member of the family.
The first thing to be done was to buy the parlor
carpets. Elizabeth Eliza had already looked at
some in Boston, and the next morning she went by
an early train, with her father, Agamemnon, and
Solomon John, to decide upon them.
They got home about eleven o'clock, and when
they reached the house were dismayed to find two
furniture wagons, in front of the gate, already
partly filled Mrs. Peterkin was walking in and
out of the open door, a large book in one hand,
and a duster in the other, and she came to meet
them in an agony of anxiety. What should they
do ? The furniture carts had appeared soon after
the rest had left for Boston, and the men had
insisted upon beginning to move the things. In
vain had she shown Elizabeth Eliza's programme,
in vain had she insisted they must take only the
parlor furniture. They had declared they must
put the heavy pieces in the bottom of the cart, and
the lighter furniture on top. So she had seen
them go into every room in the house, and select
one piece of furniture after the other, without even
looking at Elizabeth Eliza's programme; she
doubted if they could have read it, if they had
looked at it.
Mr. Peterkin had ordered the carters to come,
but he had no idea they would come so early, and
supposed it would take them a long time to fill the
carts.
But they had taken the dining-room sideboard
first,-a heavy piece of furniture,-and all its con-
tents were now on the dining-room tables. Then,
indeed, they selected the parlor book-case, but had
set every book on the floor. The men had told
Mrs. Peterkin they would put the books in the
bottom of the cart, very much in the order they
were taken from the shelves. But by this time
Mrs. Peterkin was considering the carters as natural
enemies, and dared not trust them; besides, the
books ought all to be dusted. So she was now
holding one of the volumes of Agamemnon's Ency-
clopedia, with difficulty in one hand, while she was
dusting it with the other. Elizabeth Eliza was in
dismay. At this moment, four men were bringing
down a large chest of drawers from her father's


459


1878.]






THE PETERKINS ARE OBLIGED TO MOVE.


room and they called to her to stand out of the
way. The parlors were a scene of confusion.
In dusting the books, Mrs. Peterkin neglected to
restore them to the careful rows in which they were
left by the men, and they lay in hopeless masses in
different parts of the room. Elizabeth Eliza sunk
in despair upon the end of a sofa.
It would have been better to buy the red and
blue carpet," said Solomon John.
"Is not the carpet bought?" exclaimed Mrs.
Peterkin. And then they were obliged to confess
they had been unable to decide upon one, and had
come back to consult Mrs. Peterkin.
What shall we do?" asked Mrs. Peterkin.
Elizabeth Eliza rose from the sofa and went to
the door, saying, "I shall be back in a moment."
Agamemnon slowly passed round the room,
collecting the scattered volumes of his Encyclope-
dia. Mr. Peterkin offered a helping hand to a
man lifting a wardrobe.
Elizabeth Eliza soon returned. I did not like
to go and ask her. But I felt that I must in such
an emergency. I explained to her the whole mat-
ter, and she thinks we should take the carpet at
Makillan's."
Makillan's" was a store in the village, and the
carpet was the only one all the family had liked
without any doubt; but they had supposed they
might prefer one from Boston.
The moment was a critical one. Solomon John
was sent directly to Makillan's to order the carpet
to be put down that very day. But where should
they dine? where should they have their supper?
where was Mr. Peterkin's ''quiet hour?" Eliza-
beth Eliza was frantic-the dining-room floor and
table were covered with things.
It was decided that Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin should
dine at the Bromwiches, who had been most neigh-
borly in their offers, and the rest should get some-
thing to eat at the baker's.
Agamemnon and Elizabeth Eliza hastened away
to be ready to receive the carts at the other house,
and direct the furniture as they could. After all,
there was something exhilarating in this opening
of the new house, and in deciding where things
should go. Gayly Elizabeth Eliza stepped down
the front garden of the new home, and across the
piazza, and to the door. But it was locked, and she
had no keys !
"Agamemnon, did you bring the keys?" she
exclaimed.
No, he had not seen them since the morning-
when-ah-yes, the little boys were allowed to go
to the house for their India rubber boots, as there
was a threatening of rain. Perhaps they had left
some door unfastened-perhaps they had put the
keys under the door-mat. No, each door, each


window was solidly closed, and there was no
mat !
I shall have to go to the school to see if they
took the keys with them," said Agamemnon; or
else go home to see if they left them there." The
school was in a different direction from the house,
and far at the other end of the town; for Mr. Peter-
kin had not yet changed the boys' school, as he
proposed to do, after their move.
"That will be the only way," said Elizabeth
Eliza; for it had been arranged that the little boys
should take their lunch to school and not come
home at noon.
She sat down on the steps to wait, but only for a
moment, for the carts soon appeared turning the
corner. What should be done with the furniture ?
Of course, the carters must wait for the keys, as she
should need them to set the furniture up in the
right places. But they could not stop for this.
They put it down upon the piazza, on the steps, in
the garden, and Elizabeth Eliza saw how incon-
gruous it was There was something from every
room in the house! even the large family chest,
which had proved too heavy for them to travel
with, had come down from the attic and stood
against the front door.
And Solomon John appeared with the carpet-
woman, and a boy with a wheelbarrow bringing the
new carpet. And all stood and waited. Some
opposite neighbors appeared to offer advice, and
look on, and Elizabeth Eliza groaned inwardly that
only the shabbiest of their furniture appeared to be
standing full in view.
It seemed ages before Agamemnon returned, and
no wonder; for he had been to the house, then to
the school, then back to the house, for one of the
little boys had left at home the keys, in the pocket
of his clothes. Meanwhile, the carpet woman had
waited, and the boy with the wheelbarrow had
waited, and when they got in they found the parlor
must be swept and cleaned. So the carpet woman
went off in dudgeon, for she was sure there would
not be time enough to do anything.
And one of the carts came again, and in their
hurry the men set the furniture down anywhere.
Elizabeth Eliza was hoping to make a little place in
the dining-room where they might have their sup-
per, and go home to sleep. But she looked out,
and there were the carters bringing the bedsteads,
and proceeding to carry them upstairs.
In despair Elizabeth Eliza went back to the old
house. If she had been there she might have pre-
vented this. She found Mrs. Peterkin in an agony
about the entryoil-cloth. It had been made in the
house, and how could it be taken out of the house ?
Agamemnon made measurements; it certainly
could not go out of the front door! He suggested


[MAY,






1878.] TIIE PETERKINS ARE OBLIGED TO MOVE. 401


it might be left till the house was pulled down,
when it could easily be moved out of one side.
But Elizabeth Eliza reminded him that the whole
house was to be moved without being taken apart.
Perhaps it could be cut in strips narrow enough
to go out. One of the men loading the remaining
cart disposed of the question by coming in and
rolling up the oil-cloth and carrying it off on top of
his wagon.
Elizabeth Eliza felt she must hurry back to the
new house. But what should they do?--no beds
here, no carpets there! The dining-room table
and sideboard were at the other house, the plates
and forks and spoons here. In vain she looked at
her programme. It was all reversed, everything
was misplaced. Mr. Peterkin would suppose they
were to eat there and sleep here, and what had
become of the little boys ?
Meanwhile, the man with the first cart had
returned. They fell to packing the dining-room
china. They were up in the attic, they were down
in the cellar. Even one of them suggested to take
the tacks out of the parlor carpets, as they should
want to take them next. Mrs. Peterkin sunk upon
a kitchen chair.
Oh, I wish we had decided to stay and be moved
in the house she exclaimed.
Solomon John urged his mother to go to the
new house, for Mr. Peterkin would be there for his
quiet hour." And when the carters at last ap-
peared, carrying the parlor carpets on their shoul-
ders, she sighed and said, There is nothing left,"
and meekly consented to be led away.


GET UPI


They reached the new house to find Mr. Peter-
kin sitting calmly in a rocking-chair on the piazza,
watching the oxen coming into the opposite barn.
He was waiting for the keys, which Solomon John
had taken back with him. The little boys were in
a horse-chestnut tree, at the side of the house.
Agamemnon opened the door. The passages
were crowded with furniture, the floors were strewn
with books, the bureau was upstairs that was to
stand in a lower bedroom, there was not a place
to lay a table, there was nothing to lay upon it;
for the knives and plates and spoons had not come,
and although the tables were there, they were
covered with chairs and boxes.
At this moment came a covered basket from the
lady from Philadelphia. It contained a choice
supper, and forks and spoons, and at the same
moment appeared a pot of hot tea from an opposite
neighbor. They placed all this on the back of a
book-case lying upset, and sat around it. Solomon
John came rushing from the gate:
The last load is coming. We are all moved! "
he exclaimed, and the little boys joined in a chorus,
"We are moved, we are moved !"
Mrs. Peterkin looked sadly round; the kitchen
utensils were lying on the parlor lounge, and an
old family gun on Elizabeth Eliza's hat-box. The
parlor clock stood on a barrel; some coal-scuttles
had been placed on the parlor table, a bust of
Washington stood in the door-way, and the looking-
glasses leaned against the pillars of the piazza.
But they were moved Mrs. Peterkin felt indeed
that they were very much moved.






















GOT DOWN I


"1






TIE SING-AWAY BIRD.



THE SING-AWAY BIRD.

BY LucY LARCOM.


r)'17 .


i _., I. I
I-.i , ..
i. l l :n ._ I r ..' ,r
w ri yl 1,.11 -. Ih.
away blud 1


And the bald-headed hills, with their rocks and their rills,
To the tune of his rapture are ringing.
And their faces grow young, all their gray mists among,
While the forests break forth into singing.
0 sing sing-away sing-away "
And the river runs singing along;
And the flying winds catch up the song.


[MAY,







463


OLD SOUP.


It was nothing but-hush a wild white-throated thrush,
That emptied his musical quiver
With a charm and a spell over valley and dell
On the banks of the Runaway River.
"O0 sing sing-away! sing-away!"
Yet the song of the wild singer had
The sound of a soul that is glad.

And, beneath the glad sun, may a glad-hearted one
Set the world to the tune of his gladness.
The rivers shall sing it, the breezes shall wing it,
Till life shall forget its long sadness.
0 sing sing-away sing-away "
Sing, spirit, who knowest joy's Giver,-
Sing on, by time's Runaway River !







OLD SOUP.

BY MRS. E. W. LATIMER.


THE following curious anecdote is from a book
about elephants, written by a French gentleman,
named Jacolliot, and we will let the author tell his
own story:
In the autumn of 1876 I was living in the interior
of Bengal, and I went to spend Christmas with my
friend, Major Daly. The major's bungalow was on
the banks of the Ganges near Cawnpore. He had
lived there a good many years, being chief of
the quartermaster's department at that station, and
had a great many natives, elephants, bullock-carts,
and soldiers under his command.
On the morning after my arrival, after a cup of
early tea (often taken before daylight in India), I
sat smoking with my friend in the veranda of his
bungalow, looking out upon the windings of the
sacred river. And, directly, I asked the major
about his children (a boy and a girl), whom I had
not yet seen, and begged to know when I should
see them.
Soupramany has taken them out fishing," said
their father.
"Why, is n't Soupramany your great war-ele-
phant?" I cried.
Exactly so. You cannot have forgotten Soup-
ramany! "
Of course not. I was here, you know, when he
had that fight with the elephant who went mad
while loading a transport with bags of rice down
yonder. I saw the mad elephant when he sud-
denly began to fling the rice into the river. His


'mahout' tried to stop him, and he killed the
mahout. The native sailors ran away to hide
themselves, and the mad elephant, trumpeting,
charged into this inclosure. Old Soupramany was
here, and so were Jim and Bessy. When he saw
the mad animal, he threw himself between him
and the children. The little ones and their nurses
had just time to get into the house when the fight
commenced."
"Yes," said the major. "Old Soup was a hun-
dred years old. He had been trained to war, and
to fight with the rhinoceros, but he was too old to
hunt then."
And yet," said I, becoming animated by the
recollections of that day, "what a gallant fight it
was! Do you remember how we all stood on this
porch and watched it, not daring to fire a shot lest
we should hit Old Soupramany? Do you remem-
ber, too, his look when he drew off, after fighting
an hour and a half, leaving his adversary dying
in the dust, and walked straight to the corral,'
shaking his great ears which had been badly torn,
with his head bruised, and a great piece broken
from one of his tusks ?"
Yes, indeed," said the major. Well, since
then, he is more devoted to my dear little ones
than ever. He takes them out whole days, and I
am perfectly content to have them under his charge.
I don't like trusting Christian children to the care
of natives; but with Old Soup I know they can
come to no harm."





464 OLD SOUP. [MAY,















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" BESIDE THE CHILDREN STOOD OLD SOUP WITH A LARGE BAMBOO ROD IN HIS TRUNK."





OLD SOUP.


What! you trust children under ten years of
age to Soup, without any other protection ? "
I do," replied the major. Come along with
me, if you doubt, and we will surprise them at their
fishing."
I followed Major Daly, and, after walking half a
mile along the wooded banks of the river, we came
upon the little group. The two children-Jim, the
elder, being about ten-both sat still and silent,
for a wonder, each holding a rod, with line, cork,
hook and bait, anxiously watching the gay corks
bobbing in the water. Beside them stood Old Soup
with an extremely large bamboo rod in his trunk,
with line, hook, bait, and cork, like the children's.
I need not say I took small notice of the children,
but turned all my attention to their big companion.
I had not watched him long before he had a bite;
for, as the religion of the Hindoos forbids them to
take life, the river swarms with fishes.
The old fellow did not stir; his little eyes watched
his line eagerly; he was no novice in the gentle
craft." He was waiting till it was time to draw in
his prize.
At the end of his line, as he drew it up, was dan-
gling one of those golden tench so abundant in the
Ganges.
When Soupramany perceived what a fine fish he
had caught, he uttered one of those long, low gur-
gling notes of satisfaction by which an elephant
expresses joy; and he waited patiently, expecting
Jim to take his prize off the hook and put on some
more bait for him. But Jim, the little rascal, some-
times liked to plague Old Soup. He nodded at us,
as much as to say, Look out, and you '11 see fun,
now Then he took off the fish, which he threw
into a water-jar placed there for the purpose, and


went back to his place without putting any bait on
Old Soup's hook. The intelligent animal did not
attempt to throw his line into the water. He tried
to move Jim by low, pleading cries. It was curious
to see what tender tones he seemed to try to give
his voice.
Seeing that Jim paid no attention to his calls,
but sat and laughed as he handled his own line,
Old Soup went up to him, and with his trunk tried
to turn his head in the direction of the bait-box.
At last, when he found that all he could do would
not induce his willful friend to help him, he turned
round as if struck by a sudden thought, and, snatch-
ing up in his trunk the box that held the bait, came
and laid it down at the major's feet; then picking
up his rod, he held it out to his master.
"What do you want me to do with this, Old
Soup ? said the major.
The creature lifted one great foot after the other,
and again began to utter his plaintive cry. Out of
mischief, I took Jimmy's part, and, picking up the
bait-box, pretended to run with it. The elephant
was not going to be teased by me. He dipped his
trunk into the Ganges, and in an instant squirted a
stream of water over me with all the force and pre-
cision of a fire-engine, to the immense amusement
of the children.
The major at once made Soup a sign to stop,
and, to make my peace with the fine old fellow, I
baited his hook myself. Quivering with joy, as a
baby does when it gets hold at last of a plaything
some one has taken from it, Old Soupramany hardly
paused to thank me by a soft note of joy for baiting
his line for him, before he went back to his place,
and was again watching his cork as it trembled in
the ripples of the river.


FOUR little houses, blue and round,
Hidden away from sight and sound.
What is in them ? The leaves never tell,
But they know the secret very well.
The daisies know, and the clover knows;
So does the pretty, sweet wild rose.
Don't be impatient, only wait
Just outside, at the leafy gate;
Soon a fairy will open the door,
And let out birdies-one, two, three, four!


VOL. V.-32.


1878.]


465






UNDER THE LILACS.



UNDER THE LILACS.

BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.


CHAPTER XII.
GOOD TIMES.
EVERY one was very kind to Ben when his loss
was known. The Squire wrote to Mr. Smithers
that the boy had found friends and would stay
where he was. Mrs. Moss consoled him in her
motherly way, and the little girls did their very
best to "be good to poor Benny." But Miss Celia
was his truest comforter and completely won his
heart, not only by the friendly words she said and
the pleasant things she did, but by the unspoken
sympathy which showed itself, just at the right
minute, in a look, a touch, a smile, more helpful
than any amount of condolence. She called him
"my man," and Ben tried to be one, bearing his
trouble so bravely that she respected him, although
he was only a little boy, because it promised well
for the future.
Then she was so happy herself, it was impossible
for those about her to be sad, and Ben soon grew
cheerful again in spite of the very tender memory
of his father laid quietly away in the safest corner
of his heart. He would have been a very unboyish
boy if he had not been happy, for the new place
was such a pleasant one, he soon felt as if for the
first time he really had a home.
No more grubbing now, but daily tasks which
never grew tiresome, they were so varied and so
light. No more cross Pats to try his temper, but
the sweetest mistress that ever was, since praise was
oftener on her lips than blame, and gratitude made
willing service a delight.
At first it seemed as if there was going to be
trouble between the two boys, for Thorny was
naturally masterful, and illness had left him weak
and nervous, so he was often both domineering and
petulant. Ben had been taught instant obedience
to those older than himself, and if Thorny had been
a man Ben would have made no complaint; but it
was hard to be "ordered round" by a boy, and
an unreasonable one into the bargain.
A word from Miss Celia blew away the threaten-
ing cloud, however, and for her sake her brother
promised to try to be patient; for her sake Ben
declared he never would get mad" if Mr. Thorny
did fidget, and both very soon forgot all about
master and man and lived together like two
friendly lads, taking each other's ups and downs
good-naturedly, and finding mutual pleasure and
profit in the new companionship.


The only point on which they never could agree
was legs, and many a hearty laugh did they give
Miss Celia by their warm and serious discussion of
this vexed question. Thorny insisted that Ben was
bow-legged; Ben resented the epithet, and declared
that the legs of all good horsemen must have a
slight curve, and any one who knew anything about
the matter would acknowledge both its necessity
and its beauty. Then Thorny would observe that
it might be all very well in the saddle, but it made
a man waddle like a duck when afoot; whereat
Ben would retort that for his part he would rather
waddle like a duck than tumble about like a horse
with the staggers. He had his opponent there, for
poor Thorny did look very like a weak-kneed colt
when he tried to walk; but he would never own it,
and came down upon Ben with crushing allusions
to centaurs, or the Greeks and Romans, who were
famous both for their horsemanship and fine limbs.
Ben could not answer that, except by proudly refer-
ring to the chariot-races copied from the ancients,
in which he had borne a part, which was more than
some folks with long legs could say. Gentlemen
never did that sort of thing, nor did they twit their
best friends with their misfortunes, Thorny would
remark, casting a pensive glance at his thin hands,
longing the while to give Ben a good shaking.
This hint would remind the other of his young
master's late sufferings and all he owed his dear
mistress, and he usually ended the controversy by
turning a few lively somersaults as a vent for his
swelling wrath, and come up with his temper all
right again. Or, if Thorny happened to be in the
wheeled chair, he would trot him round the garden
at a pace which nearly took his breath away, thereby
proving that if "bow-legs were not beautiful to
some benighted being, they were good to go."
Thorny liked that, and would drop the subject
for the time by politely introducing some more
agreeable topic; so the impending quarrel would
end in a laugh over some boyish joke, and the
word "legs" be avoided by mutual consent till
accident brought it up again.
The spirit of rivalry is hidden in the best of us,
and is a helpful and inspiring power if we know how
to use it. Miss Celia knew this, and tried to make
the lads help one another by means of it,-not in
boastful or ungenerous comparison of each other's
gifts, but by interchanging them, giving and taking
freely, kindly, and being glad to love what was
admirable wherever they found it. Thorny admired






UNDER THE LILACS.


Ben's strength, activity, and independence; Ben
envied Thorny's learning, good manners, and com-
fortable surroundings; and, when a wise word had
set the matter rightly before them, both enjoyed
the feeling that there was a certain equality between
them, since money could not buy health, and prac-
tical knowledge was as useful as any that can be
found in books. So they interchanged their small
experiences, accomplishments, and pleasures, and
both were the better, as well as the happier, for it,
because in this way only can we truly love our
neighbor as ourself and get the real sweetness out
of life.
There was no end to the new and pleasant things
Ben had to do, from keeping paths and flower-beds
neat, feeding the pets, and running errands, to
waiting on Thorny and being right-hand man to
Miss Celia. He had a little room in the old house,
newly papered with hunting scenes, which he was
never tired of admiring. In the closet hung several
out-grown suits of Thorny's, made over for his
valet, and, what Ben valued infinitely more, a pair
of boots, well blacked and ready for grand occa-
sions, when he rode abroad, with one old spur,
found in the attic, brightened up and merely worn
for show, since nothing would have induced him to
prick beloved Lita with it.
Many pictures, cut from illustrated papers, of
races, animals and birds, were stuck round the
room, giving it rather the air of a circus and
menagerie. This, however, made it only the more
home-like to its present owner, who felt exceedingly
rich and respectable as he surveyed his premises;
almost like a retired showman who still fondly
remembers past successes, though now happy in
the more private walks of life.
In one drawer of the quaint little bureau which
he used, were kept the relics of his father; very
few and poor, and of no interest to any one but
himself,-only the letter telling of his death, a
worn-out watch-chain, and a photograph of Senor
Jos6 Montebello, with his youthful son standing on
his head, both airily attired, and both smiling with
the calmly superior expression which gentlemen
of their profession usually wear in public. Ben's
other treasures had been stolen with his bundle;
but these he cherished and often looked at when he
went to bed, wondering what heaven was like, since
it was lovelier than California, and usually fell
asleep with a dreamy impression that it must be
something like America when Columbus found it,
-"a pleasant land, where were gay flowers and
tall trees, with leaves and fruit such as they had
never seen before." And through this happy
hunting-ground father" was forever riding on a
beautiful white horse with wings, like the one of
which Miss Celia had a picture.


Nice times Ben had in his little room poring
over his books, for he soon had several of his own;
but his favorites were Hammerton's "Animals"
and Our Dumb Friends," both full of interesting
pictures and anecdotes such as boys love. Still
nicer times working about the house, helping get
things in order; and best of all were the daily
drives with Miss Celia and Thorny, when weather
permitted, or solitary rides to town through the
heaviest rain, for certain letters must go and come,
no matter how the elements raged. The neigh-
bors soon got used to the "antics of that boy,"
but Ben knew that he was an object of interest as
he careered down the main street in a way that
made old ladies cry out and brought people flying to
the window, sure that some one was being run away
with. Lita enjoyed the fun as much as he, and
apparently did her best to send him heels over head,
having rapidly learned to understand the signs he
gave her by the touch of hand and foot, or the
tones of his voice.
These performances caused the boys to regard
Ben Brown with intense admiration, the girls with
timid awe, all but Bab, who burned to imitate him,
and tried her best whenever she got a chance, much
to the anguish and dismay of poor Jack, for that
long-suffering animal was the only steed she was
allowed to ride. Fortunately, neither she nor
Betty had much time for play just now, as school
was about to close for the long vacation, and all
the little people were busy finishing up, that they
might go to play with free minds. So the lilac-
parties," as they called them, were deferred till
later, and the lads amused themselves in their own
way, with Miss Celia to suggest and advise.
It took Thorny a long time to arrange his pos-
sessions, for he could only direct while Ben un-
packed, wondering and admiring as he worked,
because he had never seen so many boyish treasures
before. The little printing-press was his especial
delight, and leaving everything else in confusion,
Thorny taught him its use and planned a news-
paper on the spot, with Ben for printer, himself for
editor, and Sister" for chief contributor, while
Bab should be carrier and Betty office-boy. Next
came a postage-stamp book, and a rainy day was
happily spent in pasting a new collection where
each particular one belonged, with copious expla-
nations from Thorny as they went along. Ben did
not feel any great interest in this amusement after
one trial of it, but when a book containing patterns
of the flags of all nations turned up, he was seized
with a desire to copy them all, so that the house
could be fitly decorated on gala occasions. Finding
that it amused her brother, Miss Celia generously
opened her piece-drawer and rag-bag, and as the
mania grew till her resources were exhausted, she


467


1878.1






UNDER THE LILACS.


bought bits of gay cambric and many-colored
papers, and startled the storekeeper by purchasing
several bottles of mucilage at once. Bab and
Betty were invited to sew the bright strips or stars,
and pricked their little fingers assiduously, finding
this sort of needle-work much more attractive than
piecing bed-quilts.
Such a snipping and pasting, planning and
stitching as went on in the big back room, which
was given up to them, and such a noble array of
banners and pennons as soon decorated its walls,
would have caused the dullest eye to brighten with
amusement, if not with admiration. Of course,
the Stars and Stripes hung highest, with the
English lion ramping on the royal standard close
by; then followed a regular picture-gallery, for
there was the white elephant of Siam, the splendid
peacock of Burmah, the double-headed Russian
eagle and black dragon of China, the winged lion
of Venice, and the prancing pair on the red, white
and blue flag of Holland. The keys and miter of
the Papal States were a hard job, but up they went
at last, with the yellow crescent of Turkey on one
side and the red full moon of Japan on the other;
the pretty blue and white flag of Greece hung
below and the cross of free Switzerland above. If
materials had held out, the flags of all the United
States would have followed; but paste and patience
were exhausted, so the busy workers rested awhile
before they "flung their banner to the breeze," as
the newspapers have it.
A spell of ship building and rigging followed the
flag fit; for Thorny, feeling too old now for such
toys, made over his whole fleet to the children,"
condescending, however, to superintend a thorough
repairing of the same before he disposed of all but
the big man-of-war, which continued to ornament
his own room, with all sail set and a little red officer
perpetually waving his sword on the quarter-deck.
These gifts led to out-of-door water-works, for
the brook had to be dammed up, that a shallow
ocean might be made, where Ben's piratical Red
Rover," with the black flag, might chase and
capture Bab's smart frigate, Queen," while the
"Bounding Betsey," laden with lumber, safely
sailed from Kennebunkport to Massachusetts Bay.
Thorny, from his chair, was chief-engineer, and
directed his gang of one how to dig the basin,
throw up the embankment, and finally let in the
water till the mimic ocean was full; then regulate
the little water-gate, lest it should overflow and
wreck the pretty squadron of ships, boats, canoes,
and rafts, which soon rode at anchor there.
Digging and paddling in mud and water proved
such a delightful pastime that the boys kept it up,
till a series of water-wheels, little mills and cataracts
made the once quiet brook look as if a manufact-


during town was about to spring up where hitherto
minnows had played in peace and the retiring frog
had chanted his serenade unmolested.
Miss Celia liked all this, for anything which would
keep Thorny happy out-of-doors in the sweet June
weather found favor in her eyes, and when the
novelty had worn off from home affairs, she planned
a series of exploring expeditions which filled their
boyish souls with delight. As none of them knew
much about the place, it really was quite exciting
to start off on a bright morning with a roll of wraps
and cushions, lunch, books, and drawing materials
packed into the phaeton, and drive at random about
the shady roads and lanes, pausing when and where
they liked. Wonderful discoveries were made,
pretty places were named, plans were drawn, and
all sorts of merry adventures befell the pilgrims.
Each day they camped in a new spot, and while
Lita nibbled the fresh grass at her ease, Miss Celia
sketched under the big umbrella, Thorny read or
lounged or slept on his rubber blanket, and Ben
made himself generally useful. Unloading, filling
the artist's water-bottle, piling the invalid's cushions,
setting out the lunch, running to and fro for a
flower or a butterfly, climbing a tree to report the
view, reading, chatting, or frolicking with Sancho,
-any sort of duty was in Ben's line, and he did
them all well, for an out-of-door life was natural to
him and he liked it.
"Ben, I want an amanuensis," said Thorny,
dropping book and pencil one day after a brief
interval of silence, broken only by the whisper of
the young leaves overhead and the soft babble of
the brook close by.
'"A what?" asked Ben, pushing back his hat
with such an air of amazement that Thorny rather
loftily inquired:
Don't you know what an amanuensis is?"
Well, no; not unless it's some relation to an
anaconda. Should n't think you 'd want one of
them, anyway."
Thorny rolled over with a hoot of derision, and
his sister, who sat close by, sketching an old gate,
looked up to see what was going on.
"Well, you needn't laugh at a feller. You
didn't know what a wombat was when I asked
you, and I did n't roar," said Ben, giving his hat a
slap, as nothing else was handy.
The idea of wanting an anaconda tickled me
so, I could n't help it. I dare say you 'd have got
me one if I had asked for it, you are such an
obliging chap."
Of course I would if I could. Shouldn't be
surprised if you did some day, you want such
funny things," answered Ben, appeased by the
compliment.
I '11 try the amanuensis first. It's only some


[MAY,






1878.]


UNDER TH


one to write for me; I get so tired doing it without
a table. You write well enough, and it will be
good for you to know something about botany. I
intend to teach you, Ben," said Thorny, as if con-
ferring a great favor.
It looks pretty hard," muttered Ben, with a
doleful glance at the book laid open upon a strew
of torn leaves and flowers.
No, it is n't; it's regularly jolly, and you'd be
no end of a help if you only knew a little. Now
suppose I say, 'Bring me a "ranunculus bulbosus,"'
how would you know what I wanted?" demanded
Thorny, waving his microscope with a learned air.
Should n't."
There are quantities of them all round us, and
I want to analyze one. See if you can't guess."
Ben stared vaguely from earth to sky, and was
about to give it up, when a buttercup fell at his
feet, and he caught sight of Miss Celia smiling at
him from behind her brother, who did not see the
flower.
S'pose you mean this? I don't call 'em rhi-
nocerus bulburses, so I was n't sure." And taking
the hint as quickly as it was given, Ben presented
the buttercup as if he knew all about it.
"You guessed that remarkably well. Now bring
me a'leontodon taraxacum,'" said Thorny, charmed
with the quickness of his pupil and glad to display
his learning.
Again Ben gazed, but the field was full of early
flowers, and if a long pencil had not pointed to a
dandelion close by he would have been lost.
Here you are, sir," he answered with a chuckle,
and Thorny took his turn at being astonished now.
How the dickens did you know that ?"
Try it again, and may be you '11 find out,"
laughed Ben.
Diving hap-hazard into his book, Thorny de-
manded a trifolium pratense."
The clever pencil pointed, and Ben brought a
red clover, mightily enjoying the joke, and think-
ing that this kind of botany was n't bad fun.
"Look here, no fooling!" and Thorny sat up
to investigate the matter, so quickly that his sister
had not time to sober down. "Ah, I've caught
you Not fair to tell, Celia. Now, Ben, you 've
got to learn all about this buttercup, to pay for
cheating."
"Werry good, sir; bring on your rhinoceri-
ouses," answered Ben, who could n't help imitating
his old friend the clown when he felt particularly
jolly.
Sit there and write what I tell you," ordered
Thorny, with all the severity of a strict school-
master.
Perching himself on the mossy stump, Ben obe-
diently floundered through the following analysis,


E LILACS. 469


with constant help in the spelling and much
private wonder what would come of it:
"Phmnogamous. Exogenous. Angiosperm.
Polypetalous. Stamens, more than ten. Stamens
on the receptacle. Pistils, more than one and sep-
arate. Leaves without stipules. Crowfoot family.
Genus ranunculus. Botanical name, Ranunculus
bulbosus."
"Jerusalem, what a flower Pistols and crows'
feet, and Polly put the kettles on, and Angy
sperms and all the rest of 'em If that's your
botany I wont take any more, thank you," said
Ben, as he paused as hot and red as if he had been
running a race.
Yes, you will; you'll learn that all by heart,
and then I shall give you a dandelion to do.
You 'll like that, because it means dent de lion or
lion's teeth, and I'1l show them to you through my
glass. You 've no idea how interesting it is, and
what heaps of pretty things you'll see," answered
Thorny, who had already discovered how charm-
ing the study was, and had found great satisfac-
tion in it since he had been forbidden more
active pleasures.
What's the good of it, any way ?" asked Ben,
who would rather have been set to mowing the big
field than to the task before him.
It tells all about it in my book here-' Gray's
Botany for Young People.' But I can tell you
what use it is to us," continued Thorny, crossing
his legs in the air and preparing to argue the
matter, comfortably lying flat on his back. We
are a Scientific Exploration Society, and we must
keep an account of all the plants, animals, min-
erals, and so on, as we come across them. Then
suppose we get lost and have to hunt for food,
how are we to know what is safe and what is n't?
Come, now, do you know the difference between a
toad-stool and a mushroom ?"
No, I don't."
Then I '11 teach you some day. There is
sweet flag and poisonous flag,. and all sorts of
berries and things, and you'd better look out
when you are in the woods or you'll touch ivy and
dogwood, and have a horrid time if you don't
know your botany."
Thorny learned much of his by sad experi-
ence, and you will be wise to take his advice," said
Miss Celia, recalling her brother's various mishaps
before the new fancy came on.
Didn't I have a time of it, though, when I had
to go round for a week with plantain leaves and
cream stuck all over my face! Just picked some
pretty red dogwood, Ben, and then I was a regular
guy, with a face like a lobster and my eyes swelled
out of sight. Come along and learn right away,
and never get into scrapes like most fellows."






UNDER TIE LILACS.


Impressed by this warning, and attracted by
Thorny's enthusiasm, Ben cast himself down upon
the blanket, and for an hour the two heads bobbed
to and fro from microscope to book, the teacher
airing his small knowledge, the pupil more and
more interested in the new and curious things he
saw or heard,-though it must be confessed that
Ben infinitely preferred to watch ants and bugs,
queer little worms and gauzy-winged flies, rather
than putter over plants with long names. He
did not dare to say so, however, but when Thorny
asked him if it was n't capital fun, he dodged
cleverly by proposing to hunt up the flowers for
his master to study, offering to learn about the
dangerous ones, but pleading want of time to
investigate this pleasing science very deeply.
As Thorny had talked himself hoarse, he was
very ready to dismiss his class of one to fish the
milk-bottle out of the brook, and recess was pro-
longed till next day. But both boys found a new
pleasure in the pretty pastime they made of it, for
active Ben ranged the woods and fields with a tin
box slung over his shoulder, and feeble Thorny
had a little room fitted up for his own use where
he pressed flowers in newspaper books, dried herbs
on the walls, had bottles and cups, pans and plat-
ters for his treasures, and made as much litter as
he liked.
Presently, Ben brought such lively accounts of
the green nooks where jacks-in-the-pulpit preached
their little sermons, brooks beside which grew blue
violets and lovely ferns, rocks round which danced
the columbines like rosy elves, or the trees where
birds built, squirrels chattered and woodchucks
burrowed, that Thorny was seized with a desire to
go and see these beauties for himself. So Jack
was saddled and went plodding, scrambling and
wandering into all manner of pleasant places,
always bringing home a stronger, browner rider
than he carried away.
This delighted Miss Celia, and she gladly saw
them ramble off together, leaving her time to
stitch happily at certain dainty bits of sewing, write
voluminous letters, or dream over others quite as
long, swinging in her hammock under the lilacs.

CHAPTER XIII.
SOMEBODY RUNS AWAY.
"SCIHOOL is done,
Now we '11 have fun,"
SUNG Bab and Betty, slamming down their books
as if they never meant to take them up again, when
they came home on the last day of June.
Tired teacher had dismissed them for eight whole
weeks and gone away to rest; the little school-
house was shut up, lessons were over, spirits rising


fast, and vacation had begun. The quiet town
seemed suddenly inundated with children all in
such a rampant state that busy mothers wondered
how they ever should be able to keep their frisky
darlings out of mischief; thrifty fathers planned
how they could bribe the idle hands to pick berries
or rake hay; and the old folks, while wishing the
young folks well, secretly blessed the man who
invented schools.
The girls immediately began to talk about picnics,
and have them, too; for little hats sprung up in the
fields like a new sort of mushroom,-every hill-side
bloomed with gay gowns, looking as if the flowers
had gone out for a walk, and the woods were full
of featherless birds chirping away as blithely as the
thrushes, robins, and wrens.
The boys took to base-ball like ducks to water,
and the common was the scene of tremendous bat-
tles waged with much tumult but little bloodshed.
To the uninitiated it appeared as if these young
men had lost their wits; for no matter how warm
Sit was, there they were, tearing about in the maddest
manner, jackets off, sleeves rolled up, queer caps
flung on anyway, all batting shabby leather balls
and catching the same as if their lives depended on
it. Every one talking in his gruffest tone, bawling
at the top of his voice, squabbling over every point
of the game, and seeming to enjoy himself im-
mensely in spite of the heat, dust, uproar, and im-
minent danger of getting eyes or teeth knocked out.
Thorny was an excellent player, but not being
strong enough to show his prowess, he made Ben
his proxy, and, sitting on the fence, acted as umpire
to his heart's content. Ben was a promising pupil
and made rapid progress, for eye, foot, and hand
had been so well trained that they did him good
service now, and Brown was considered a first-rate
"catcher."
Sancho distinguished himself by his skill in hunt-
ing up stray balls, and guarding jackets when not
needed, with the air of one of the Old Guard on
duty at the tomb of Napoleon. Bab also longed
to join in the fun, which suited her better than
"stupid picnics" or "fussing over dolls; but her
heroes would not have her at any price, and she
was obliged to content herself with sitting by
Thorny, and watching with breathless interest the
varying fortunes of our side."
A grand match was planned for the Fourth of
July; but when the club met, things were found to
be unpropitious. Thorny had gone out of town
with his sister to pass the day, two of the best
players did not appear, and the others were some-
what exhausted by the festivities, which began at
sunrise for them. So they lay about on the grass
in the shade of the big elm, languidly discussing
their various wrongs and disappointments.


[MAY,






UNDER THE LILACS.


"It's the meanest Fourth I ever saw. Can't
have no crackers, because somebody's horse got
scared last year," growled Sam Kitteridge, bitterly
resenting the stern edict which forbade free-born
citizens to burn as much gunpowder as they liked
on that glorious day.
Last year Jimmy got his arm blown off when
they fired the old cannon. Did n't we have a lively
time going for the doctors and getting him home? "
asked another boy, looking as if he felt defrauded
of the most interesting part of the anniversary,
because no accident had occurred.
Ain't going to be fire-works either, unless some-
body's barn burns up. Don't I just wish there
would," gloomily responded another youth who had
so rashly indulged in pyrotechnics on a former occa-
sion that a neighbor's cow had been roasted whole.
I would n't give two cents for such a slow old
place as this. Why, last Fourth at this time, I was
rumbling through Boston streets up top of our big
car, all in my best toggery. Hot as pepper, but
good fun looking in at the upper windows and hear-
ing the women scream when the old thing waggled
round and I made believe I was going to tumble
off," said Ben, leaning on his bat with the air of a
man who had seen the world and felt some natural
regret at descending from so lofty a sphere.
Catch me cutting away if I had such a chance
as that answered Sam, trying to balance his bat
on his chin and getting a smart rap across the nose
as he failed to perform the feat.
Much you know about it, old chap. It's hard
work, I can tell you, and that would n't suit such a
lazy bones. Then you are too big to begin, though
you might do for a fat boy if Smithers wanted one,"
said Ben, surveying the stout youth with calm
contempt.
Let's go in swimming, not loaf round here, if
we can't play," proposed a red and shiny boy,
pant;ng for a game of leap-frog in Sandy pond.
May as well; don't see much else to do,"
sighed Sam, rising like a young elephant.
The others were about to follow, when a shrill
Hi, hi, boys, hold on made them turn about
to behold Billy Barton tearing down the street like
a runaway colt, waving a long strip of paper as he
ran.
Now, then, what's the matter?" demanded
Ben, as the other came up grinning and i'...;.
but full of great news.
Look here, read it I 'm going; come along,
the whole of you," panted Billy, putting the paper
into Sam's hand, and surveying the crowd with a
face as beaming is a full moon.
Look out for the big show," read Sam. "Van
Amburgh & Co.'s New Great Golden Menagerie,
Circus and Colosseum, will exhibit at Berryville,


July 4th, at I and 7 precisely. Admission 50 cents,
children half-price. Don't forget day and date.
H. Frost, Manager."
While Sam read, the other boys had been gloat-
ing over the enticing pictures which covered the
bill. There was the golden car, filled with noble
beings in helmets, all playing on immense trum-
pets; the twenty-four prancing steeds with manes,
tails, and feathered heads tossing in the breeze; the
clowns, the tumblers, the strong men, and the
riders flying about in the air as if the laws of gravi-
tation no longer existed. But, best of all, was the
grand conglomeration of animals where the giraffe
appears to stand on the elephant's back, the zebra
to be jumping over the seal, the hippopotamus to
be lunching off a couple of crocodiles, and lions and
tigers to be raining down in all directions with their
mouths wide open and their tails as stiff as that of
the famous Northumberland House lion.
Cricky would n't I like to see that," said little
Cyrus Fay, devoutly hoping that the cage, in which
this pleasing spectacle took place, was a very strong
one.
"You never would, it's only a picture That,
now, is something like," and Ben, who had pricked
up his ears at the word circus," laid his finger on
a smaller cut of a man hanging by the back of his
neck with a child in each hand, two men suspended
from his feet, and the third swinging forward to
alight on his head.
"I 'm going," said Sam, with calm decision, for
this superb array of unknown pleasures fired his
soul and made him forget his weight.
How will you fix it? asked Ben, fingering the
bill with a nervous thrill all through his wiry limbs,
just as he used to feel it when his father caught
him up to dash into the ring.
"Foot it with Billy. It's only four miles, and
we've got lots of time, so we can take it easy.
Mother wont care, if I send word by Cy," answered
Sam, producing half a dollar, as if such magnifi-
cent sums were no strangers to his pocket.
Come on, Brown; you 'll be a first-rate fellow
to show us round, as you know all the dodges,"
said Billy, anxious to get his money's worth.
Well, I don't know," began Ben, longing to
go, but afraid Mrs. Moss would say "No if he
asked leave.
"' He's afraid," sneered the red-faced boy, who
felt bitterly toward all mankind at that instant, be-
cause he knew there was no hope of his going.
Say that again, and I '11 knock your head off,"
and Ben faced round with a gesture which caused
the other to skip out of reach precipitately.
Has n't got any money, more likely," observed
a shabby youth, whose pockets never had anything
in them but a pair of dirty hands.






UNDER THE LILACS.


Ben calmly produced a dollar bill and waved it
defiantly before this doubter, observing with dignity:
"I 've got money enough to treat the whole
crowd, if I choose to, which I don't."
Then come along and have a jolly time with
Sam and me. We can buy some dinner and get a
ride home, as like as not," said the amiable Billy,
with a slap on the shoulder, and a cordial grin
which made it impossible for Ben to resist.
"What are you stopping for? demanded Sam,
ready to be off, that they might "take it easy."
"Don't know what to do with Sancho. He '11
get lost or stolen if I take him, and it's too far to
carry him home if you are in a hurry," began Ben,
persuading himself that this was the true reason
of his delay.
Let Cy take him back. He '11 do it for a cent;
wont you, Cy ?" proposed Billy, smoothing away
all objections, for he liked Ben, and saw that he
wanted to go.
"No, I wont; I don't like him. He winks at
me, and growls when I touch him," muttered
naughty Cy, remembering how much reason poor
Sanch had to distrust his tormentor.
There's Bab; she '11 do it. Come here, sissy;
Ben wants you," called Sam, beckoning to a small
figure just perching on the fence.
Down it jumped and came fluttering up, much
elated at being summoned by the captain of the
sacred nine.
I want you to take Sanch home, and tell your
mother I 'm going to walk, and may be wont be
back till sundown. Miss Celia said I might do
what I pleased, all day. You remember, now."
Ben spoke without looking up, and affected to be
very busy buckling a strap into Sanch's collar,
for the two were so seldom parted that the dog
always rebelled. It was a mistake on Ben's part,
for while his eyes were on his work Bab's were
devouring the bill, which Sam still held, and her
suspicions were aroused by the boys' faces.
"Where are you going? Ma will want to know,"
she said, as curious as a magpie all at once.
"Never you mind; girls can't know everything.
You just catch hold of this and run along home.
Lock Sanch up for an hour, and tell your mother
I 'm all right," answered Ben, bound to assert his
manly supremacy before his mates.
He's going to the circus," whispered Fay,
hoping to make mischief.
"Circus Oh, Ben, do take me!" cried Bab,
falling into a state of great excitement at the mere
thought of such delight.
You could n't walk four miles," began Ben.
Yes, I could, as easy as not."
You have n't got any money."
"You have; I saw you showing your dollar,


and you could pay for me, and Ma would pay it
back."
Can't wait for you to get ready."
"I'll go as I am. I don't care if it is my old
hat," and Bab jerked it on to her head.
"Your mother would n't like it."
She wont like your going, either."
She is n't my missis now. Miss Celia would n't
care, and I'm going, anyway."
Do, do take me, Ben I '11 be just as good as
ever was, and I '11 take care of Sanch all the way,"
pleaded Bab, clasping her hands and looking round
for some sign of relenting in the faces of the boys.
Don't you bother; we don't want any girls
tagging after us," said Sam, walking off to escape
the annoyance.
I'11 bring you a roll of chickerberry lozengers,
if you wont tease," whispered kind-hearted Billy,
with a consoling pat on the crown of the shabby
straw hat.
When the circus comes here you shall go,
certain sure, and Betty too," said Ben, feeling
mean while he proposed what he knew was a
hollow mockery.
"They never do come to such little towns; you
said so, and I think you are very cross, and I wont
take care of Sanch, so, now !" cried Bab, getting
into a passion, yet ready to cry, she was so disap-
pointed.
"I suppose it would n't do- hinted Billy,
with a look from Ben to the little girl, who stood
winking hard to keep the tears back.
"Of course it would n't. I'd like to see her
walking eight miles. I don't mind paying for her;
it 's getting her there and back. Girls are such a
bother when you want to knock round. No, Bab,
you can't go. Travel right home and don't make
a fuss. Come along, boys; it's most eleven, and we
don't want to walk fast."
Ben spoke very decidedly, and, taking Billy's
arm, away they went, leaving poor Bab and Sanch
to watch them out of sight, one sobbing, the other
whining dismally.
Somehow those two figures seemed to go before
Ben all along the pleasant road, and half spoilt his
fun, for though he laughed and talked, cut canes,
and seemed as merry as a grig, he could not help
feeling that he ought to have asked leave to go,
and been kinder to Bab.
Perhaps Mrs. Moss would have planned some-
how so we could all go, if I 'd told her. I 'd like to
show her round, and she 's been real good to me.
No use now. I'11 take the girls a lot of candy and
make it all right."
He tried to settle it in that way and trudged
gayly on, hoping Sancho would n't feel hurt at being
left, wondering if any of Smithers's lot" would


[MAY,






UNDER THE LILACS.


be round, and planning to do the honors hand-
somely to the boys.
It was very warm, and just outside of the town
they paused by a wayside watering-trough to wash
their dusty faces and cool off before plunging into
the excitements of the afternoon. As they stood
refreshing themselves, a baker's cart came jingling
by, and Sam proposed a hasty lunch while they
rested. A supply of gingerbread was soon bought,
and, climbing the green bank above, they lay on
the grass under a wild cherry-tree, munching lux-
uriously while they feasted their eyes at the same
time on the splendors awaiting them, for the great


473


in now. I see 'em; and Billy pranced with impa-
tience, for this was his first circus, and he firmly
believed that he was going to behold all that the
pictures promised.
"Hold on a minute while I get one more drink.
Buns are dry fodder," said Sam, rolling over to the
edge of the bank and preparing to descend with as
little trouble as possible.
He nearly went down head first, however, for, as
he looked before he leaped, he beheld a sight
which caused him to stare with all his might for an
instant, then turn and beckon, saying in an eager
whisper: "Look here, boys-quick !"


"THERE STOOD BAB WAITING FOR SANCHO TO LAP HIS FILL OUT OF THE OVERFLOWING TROUGH."


tent, with all its flags flying, was visible from the
hill.
We '11 cut across those fields,-it's shorter than
going by the road,-and then we can look round
outside till it's time to go in. I want to have a good
go at everything, especially the lions," said Sam,
beginning on his last cookie.
I heard'em roar just now ;" and Billy stood up
to gaze with big eyes at the flapping canvas which
hid the king of beasts from his longing sight.
"That was a cow mooing. Don't you be a
donkey, Bill. When you hear a real roar, you 'll
shake in your boots," said Ben, holding up his
handkerchief to dry after it had done double duty
as towel and napkin.
I wish you 'd hurry up, Sam. Folks are going


Ben and Billy peered over, and both suppressed
an astonished Hullo for there stood Bab wait-
ing for Sancho to lap his fill out of the overflowing
trough.
Such a shabby, tired-looking couple as they
were Bab with a face as red as a lobster and
streaked with tears, shoes white with dust, play-
frock torn at the gathers, something bundled up in
her apron, and one shoe down at the heel as if it
hurt her. Sancho lapped eagerly, with his eyes
shut; all his ruffles were gray with dust, and his tail
hung wearily down, the tassel at half-mast, as if in
mourning for the master whom he had come to
find. Bab still held the strap, intent on keeping
her charge safe though she lost herself; but her
courage seemed to be giving out, as she looked






UNDER THE LILACS.


anxiously up and down the road, seeing no sign
of the three familiar figures she had been following
as steadily as a little Indian on the war-trail.
Oh, Sanch, what shall I do if they don't come
along? We must have gone by them somewhere,
for I don't see any one that way, and there is n't
any other road to the circus, seems to me."
Bab spoke as if the dog could understand and
answer, and Sancho looked as if he did both, for
he stopped drinking, pricked up his ears, and,
fixing his sharp eyes on the grass above him, gave
a suspicious bark.
It 's only squirrels; don't mind, but come along
and be good, for I 'm so tired I don't know what to
do! sighed Bab, trying to pull him after her as
she trudged on, bound to see the outside of that
wonderful tent, even if she never got in.
But Sancho had heard a soft chirrup, and with a
sudden bound twitched the strap away, sprang up
the bank, and landed directly on Ben's back as he
lay peeping over. A peal of laughter greeted him,
and having got the better of his master in more
ways than one, he made the most of the advantage
by playfully worrying him as he kept him down,
licking his face in spite of his struggles, burrowing
in his neck with a ticklish nose, snapping at his
buttons, and yelping joyfully, as if it was the best
joke in the world to play hide-and-seek for four
long miles.
Before Ben could quiet him, Bab came climbing
up the bank with such a funny mixture of fear,
fatigue, determination, and relief in her dirty little
face that the boys could not look awful if they
tried.
How dared you come afterus, miss ?" demanded
Sam, as she looked calmly about her and took a
seat before she was asked.
Sanch would come after Ben; I could n't make
him go home, so I had to hold on till he was safe
here, else he'd be lost, and then Ben would feel
bad."
The cleverness of that excuse tickled the boys
immensely, and Sam tried again, while Ben was
getting the dog down and sitting on him.
"Now you expect to go to the circus, I sup-
pose."
Course I do. Ben said he did n't mind paying
if I could get there without bothering him, and I
have, and I'll go home alone. I aint afraid.
Sanch will take care of me, if you wont," answered
Bab, stoutly.
What do you suppose your mother will say to
you ?" asked Ben, feeling much reproached by her
last words.
I guess she 'l say you led me into mischief,"
and the sharp child nodded as if she defied him 'o
deny the truth of that.


You'll catch it when you get home, Ben, so
you 'd better have a good time while you can,"
advised Sam, thinking Bab great fun, since none
of the blame of her pranks would fall on him.
What would you have done if you ad n't found
us?" asked Billy, forgetting his impatience in his
admiration for this plucky young lady.
I 'd have gone on and seen the circus, and then
I 'd have gone home again and told Betty all about
it," was the prompt answer.
But you have n't any money."
"Oh, I'd ask somebody to pay for me. I'm so
little, it would n't be much."
"Nobody would do it, so you'd have to stay
outside, you see."
No, 1 would n't. I thought of that and planned
how I 'd fix it if I did n't find Ben. I 'd make Sanch
do his tricks and get a quarter that way, so now,"
answered Bab, undaunted by any obstacle.
"I do believe she would! You are a smart
child, Bab, and if I had enough I 'd take you in
myself," said Billy, heartily; for, having sisters of
his own, he kept a soft place in his heart for girls,
especially enterprising ones.
I '11 take care of her. It was very naughty to
come, Bab, but so long as you did, you need n't
worry about anything. I'11 see to you, and you
shall have a real good time," said Ben, accept-
ing his responsibilities without a murmur, and
bound to do the handsome thing by his persistent
friend.
S"I thought you would," and Bab folded her
arms as if she had nothing further to do but enjoy
herself.
"Are you hungry?" asked Billy, fishing out
several fragments of gingerbread.
Starving and Bab ate them with such a relish
that Sam added a small contribution, and Ben
caught some water for her in his hand where the
little spring bubbled up beside a stone.
Now, you go and wash your face and spat down
your hair, and put your hat on straight, and then
we 'll go," commanded Ben, giving Sanch a roll on
the grass to clean him.
Bab scrubbed her face till it shone, and pulling
down her apron to wipe it, scattered a load of
treasures collected in her walk. Some of the dead
flowers, bits of moss and green twigs fell near
Ben, and one attracted his attention,-a spray of
broad, smooth leaves, with a bunch of whitish
berries on it.
Where did you get that?" he asked, poking it
with his foot.
In a swampy place, coming along. Sanch saw
something down there, and I went with him 'cause
I thought may be it was a musk-rat and you'd like
one if we could get him."






THE LITTLE ITALIAN FLOWER-MERCHANT.


"Was it?" asked the boys all at once and with
intense interest.
No, only a snake, and I don't care for snakes.
I picked some of that, it was so green and
pretty. Thorny likes queer leaves and berries,
you know," answered Bab, "spatting" down her
rough locks.
"Well, he wont like that, nor you either; it's
poisonous, and I should n't wonder if you 'd got
poisoned, Bab. Don't touch it; swamp-sumach is
horrid stuff, Miss Celia said so," and Ben looked


anxiously at Bab, who felt her chubby face all over
and examined her dingy hands with a solemn air,
asking eagerly:
"Will it break out on me 'fore I get to the
circus? "
"Not for a day or so, I guess; but it's bad
when it does come."
I don't care, if I see the animals first. Come
quick and never mind the old weeds and things,"
said Bab, much relieved, for present bliss was all
she had room for now in her happy little heart.


(To be contiinued.)


THE LITTLE ITALIAN FLOWER-MERCHANT.






FATHER CHIRP.


FATHER CHIRP.


BY S. C. STONE.


THREE little chirping crickets
Came, one night, to our door;
Tried all their keys,
Then tried their knees,
Till they could try no more.


The biggest of the crickets
Scratched hard his shiny head;
And what to do,
And what to do,
He did n't know, he said.


THEN TRIED THEIR KNEES."


The door, it would not open
To comers so belated;
Nobody heard,
Nobody stirred,
As still the crickets waited.


And then, as on a sudden,
By some new impulse bent,
Their voices three
'Rose shrill and free,
To give their feelings vent!


" HGII UPON THEIR TINY LEGS."


Then high upon their tiny legs
They stretched, to peep and peer;
While right behind
The window-blind
I crouched, to see and hear.


Louder the crickets chirped and chirped,
And, as I heard it then,
The tale they sung
In crickets' tongue
I render with my pen.


476


[MAY,






WHERE MONEY IS MADE.


The tallest one was Father Chirp;
Here was his early home;
Here lived his mother
And dearest brother,
And hither had he come;

And with him brought his two brave sons,
Both skipping at his side,
To show to her,
Their grandmother,
With true paternal pride.


477


" But days have passed since I lived here,-
It's like the folks are dead!
My children, oh!
My children, oh!
I'm going to weep," he said.

And then into his handkerchief
His little head went bobbing,
And his two heirs
They pulled out theirs,
And all three fell to sobbing.


"ALL THREE FELL TO SOBBING."


" There used to be," sang Father Chirp,
" A little child about;
And that door there
Was free as air
For going in or out.


I lost no time in opening wide
The door that had been fast;
And I could see
Those crickets three
Like dusky ghosts flit past.


And when I, listening, heard a chirp,
Another, and another,
I knew as well
As words could tell
They 'd found the old grandmother







WHERE MONEY IS MADE.

BY M. W.


Ho! I hear some New York boys say; no
need to tell us that. Everybody knows that New
York is the place to make money. Look at the
men in Wall street."
Indeed And what will you say if I tell you that
there is not a dollar of money made in New York;
nor in Chicago, neither; though I know my young
friends who live there are eager to speak up and
claim the honor. There are but three cities in all
the Union where money is actually made; that is,
where metals are coined. The principal mint of
the United States is in Philadelphia. Here are


made all the copper and nickel coins-one, two
and five cent pieces-and a large part of the gold
and silver coins used in the country. There are
also branch mints at San Francisco and Carson
City. And at these places gold and silver coins of
every value are coined in great quantities.
Those of you who have been in Philadelphia will
remember, on the north side of Chestnut street,
near Broad, a Grecian building of white marble,
somewhat gray from age, with a tall chimney rising
from the center, and the United States flag flying
from the roof. This is the mint. Let us climb






WHERE MONEY IS MADE.


the long flight of steps and enter the building. On
the door is a placard : Visitors admitted from 9
to 12." The door opens into a circular entrance
hall, with seats around the wall. In a moment
a polite usher, who has grown gray in the service
of the institution, comes to show us all that visit-
ors are allowed to see. He leads us through a
hall into an open court-yard in the
middle of the building. On the
left is the weighing-room; and if
you owned a gold mine, like the
boy I read of in a late number of
ST. NICHOLAS, it is to this room
you would bring your gold to be
weighed, so that you might know
how much money the mint must
pay you for it. All the gold and
silver received in the mint is weighed
in this room. Sometimes the gold
is brought in the form of fine dust; .
sometimes in the shape of grains '
from the size of a pin's head to that
of a pea; sometimes in plates and li
bars, and sometimes it is old jewelry
and table service. Visitors are not,
allowed to enter the weighing-room; t
but, by looking through the win- i--
dow, you can see the scales, large
and small, which are balanced with
wonderful delicacy, and the vault .. '
on the other side, where the treas-
ure is kept.
"When the gold has been
weighed," says our guide, it is locked up in iron
boxes, and carried to the melting-room, where it
is melted and poured into molds."
A small piece is then cut off, and its fineness
ascertained by a long and delicate process called
assaying. This decides the value of the lot. The
depositor is then paid, and the metal is handed
over to the melter and refiner, to be entirely freed
from its impurities and made fit for coinage.
And a hard time it has of it, to be sure. Noth-
ing but pure gold and silver could ever stand such
treatment. It is melted again, dissolved in nitric
acid, squeezed under immense pressure, baked in a
hot cellar, and finally carried to this dingy-looking
room, at the left of the court-yard, where we have
stood all this time. The metal is perfectly pure
now, but before the final melting one-tenth of its
weight in copper is added to it, to make it hard
enough to bear the rough usage which it will meet
with in traveling about the world.
The room would be dark but for the fiery glow
of the furnaces which line one end of the place.
On these are a number of small pots, filled with red-
hot liquid metal; and while we look, a workman


lifts one after another, with a pair of long tongs,
and pours the glowing gold in streams into narrow
iron molds.
This piece of gold," says the usher, taking up
one of the yellow bars from a cold mold, ",is called
an ingot, and is worth about I,200 dollars."
One of the party asks why one end of the ingot


is shaped like a wedge. -
"That it may enter
easily between the roll-
ers," is the reply. "You
will see the rollers when
we go upstairs."
The guide calls our
attention to the curious false floor, made of iron in
a honey-comb pattern, and divided into small sec-
tions, so that it can be readily taken up to save
the dust. He tells us that the sweepings of these
rooms have sometimes proved to be worth fifty
thousand dollars in a single year. The particles
which adhere to the workmen's clothing are also
carefully saved, and there is an arrangement in the
chimney for arresting any light-minded atoms that
may try to pass off in the smoke.
We would gladly remain longer, peering in at
the glowing fires and the swarthy figures of the
workmen, but our guide is already half-way across
the court, and we reluctantly follow, stepping aside
to make room for a workman with his burden of
silver bars, which he is carrying to undergo the
next process.


[MAY,






WHERE MONEY IS MADE.


479


This takes place in the rolling-room, where
the short, thick ingots are pressed between
two steel rollers, again and again, till they
are rolled down into long thin ribbons of
metal about the thickness of a coin.
The next step in the work is to draw the
metal ribbons through a draw-plate," to
bring them down to an exactly uniform thick-
ness. This pulling through a narrow slit in
a steel plate hardens the metal, and again
and again it has to be put in the fire and
brought to a light red to make it soft and
pliable. This drawing and annealing brings
each band of metal to just the right thick-
ness and condition, and we may go on and
see the cutting-presses that stamp out the
round pieces of metal called planchetss."
A workman takes a ribbon of gold and in-
serts the end in the immense jaws of the
press, and they bite, bite and bite, and the
round bits of gold drop in a shower into a
box below.
This press," says the usher, is cutting
double-eagles; and in the single moment, by the
watch, that we have been looking at it, it has cut
forty-five hundred dollars' worth. The same num-


,M;



. L
-- I. V.,,


POURING THE MELTED GOLD INTO THE MOLDS.
ber of cuts would make only two dollars and twenty
cents if made in copper."
The machine goes on hastily biting out the round


THE ROLLERS.
planchets to the end of the ribbon, and then
the guide holds up the long strip full of holes,
much as you have seen the dough after the cook
has cut out her ginger-snaps. These perforated
bars go back to the furnace to be melted over.
The planchets," says the guide, after being
annealed in those furnaces which you see at the
rear of the room, are taken upstairs and most
carefully weighed."
None but women are employed in the weighing-
room, and so delicate are the scales that they will
move with the weight of a hair. If a planchet is
found too light, it is thrown aside to be remelted;
if only slightly over the proper weight, a tiny par-
ticle is filed off from the edge ; but if the weight is
much in excess, it is to go back to the furnace.
Nothing but perfection passes here, you see.
Now, one final washing in acid, then in water,
and these much-enduring bits of metal are admit-
ted to the coining-room, there to receive the stamp
which testifies to their worth.
In the coining-room the planchets are first
given to the milling-machine. They are laid down
flat between two steel rings, and as the rings move
one draws nearer to the other, and the plan-
chets are squeezed and crowded on every side,
and finding no escape they turn up about the edges
and come out at the end of the sorry little journey
with a rim raised around the edges. Beyond the
milling-machines stand the ten coining-presses.
These presses are attended by women. Watch
this one near us. At her right hand is a box con-
taining silver planchets, which are to be coined
into fifty-cent pieces. On that round "die," which


A






WHERE MONEY IS MADE.


you see in the center of the machine, are engraved
the letters and figures which are to appear on the
back of the'half-dollar. Directly above the die,
on the end of a rod, which works up and down


THE CUTTING-PRESS.

with the most exquisite accuracy, is the sunken
impression of the face.
The woman gathers up a handful of the plan-
chets and drops them one at a time into a brass
tube, which they just fit. They slip down in the
tube, and as the lowest planchet slides from
under the tube, two small steel arms spring out
and grasp it and lay it on the die. At the
same instant, the upper die descends with a
quick thump, and the silver counter, stamped in a
twinkling on both sides, falls into a box below. In
an instant another takes its place, and thus they go
on dropping under the swiftly moving rod, and
turning into coins in a flash.
Take up one of the coins and study it carefully.
Every mark, letter, number and bit of decoration


ishes the work. The money is made, coined and
ready for exchange in the shop and market. Some-
times you may have noticed that coins, like the nickel
five-cent and the silver twenty-cent piece, have
smooth edges. In these coins the breeding is
omitted. The dies in the presses have only
the letters and figures of the face and back of
the coin, and when the planchet is caught
between them the metal is squeezed up against
the smooth sides of the die, and none of the
little reeding marks on the edge are formed.
S "And now," says our kind conductor, you
\have seen all the process of making money.
This next room is the cabinet, and here you
can remain as long as you please."
But I have not time to tell you half the
curious and instructive things you may see
in this apartment. There are coins of all
nations and ages. Egyptian, Greek, and
Roman, bearing effigies of forgotten kings
and emperors; curious oblong coins, of very
fine workmanship, from China and Japan,
and others of a square shape with a hole in
the middle, that they may be strung on a
string, instead of putting them into a purse.
Smallest of all, so small that you might over-
look it, if your attention was not especially
drawn to it, is the "widow's mite." Perhaps
-who knows ?-this may be the very coin which,
dropped into the trumpet-shaped mouth of the
treasury, called forth the commendation of the
Savior upon the poor giver.
In other cases are the coins of England, France,
Germany and other modern nations; some more
beautiful than our own, others far inferior to them
in design and workmanship. The cases around
the wall are filled with beautiful minerals, and, in
particular, many fine specimens of gold in its native
state.
For so long a time have we been using paper
money in this country, that it seemed almost use-
less to have mints to make coins, when ordinary
people never saw any of them, excepting those
made of copper or nickel.


"'THE LONG STRIP FULL OF HOLES."

is deeply cut in the metal. Even the reeding," But our merchants, and others dealing with
or roughened edge, is stamped sharply, and we foreign countries, needed gold, for our paper
can tell just what the coin is by feeling of it with money could not be sent to Europe, or anywhere
the finger, even in the dark. This last step fin- out of the United States, to pay for goods; and


480


[MAY,






WHERE MONEY IS MADE.


so gold eagles and double-eagles and half-eagles
and quarter-eagles and gold dollars were coined to
be sent away, or to be used here to pay duties on
imports. Silver coins also were made, to be used


But, since Congress has decided that we are to
have not only silver small-change, but also silver
dollars, and now that these have become again a
part of the legal currency of the country, all three


THE COINING-PRESS.


in foreign countries, and among these was the
trade-dollar, which many of you may have seen.
When silver small-change lately came into use
again, there were many boys and girls who had
never seen a quarter or a half dollar. When they
spoke of fifty or twenty-five cents, they meant a
piece of paper currency, printed like a bank-note,
of no value in itself, but only a promise to pay.


of our mints have gone to work and are coining
dollars as fast as they can, for millions of them
will be required, if we are all to use them.
I hope that you and I, dear reader, may be able
to get as many of these new dollars as we actually
shall need, though perhaps none of us may ever
have as many of them, or of any other kind of
money, as we think we should like to have.


VOL. V.-33.


481






[MAY,


A SONG OF SPRING.

By CAROLINE A. MASON.

O THE sweet spring days when the grasses grow,
And the violets blow,
And the lads and the lassies a-maying go !

When the mosses cling in their velvet sheen,
Like a fringe of green,
To the rocks that o'er the deep pools lean;

When the brooks wake up with a merry leap
From their winter sleep,
And the frogs in the meadows begin to peep;

When the robin sings, thro' the long bright hours,
Of his southern bowers,
With a dream in his heart of the coming flowers;

When the earth is full of delicious smells
From the ferny dells,
And the scent of the breeze quite plainly tells

He has been with the apple-blooms They fly
From his kisses sly
Like feathery snow-flakes scurrying by!

O the saucy pranks of the madcap breeze
In the blossoming trees !
O the sounds that thrill, and the sights that please,

And the nameless joys that the May days bring
On their glad, glad wing !
O the dear delights of the sweet, sweet spring!






SAM'S BIRTHDAY.

BY IRWIN RUSSELL.


ON the nineteenth day of last month, Sam could
and would have testified, from information and
belief, that he was "eight yeahs ol', gwine on nine;"
but on the morning of the twentieth, that interesting
infant of color was informed by his mother, as soon
as he awoke, that he was nine yeahs ol', gwine on
ten." When Aunt Phillis imparted this surprising
intelligence to her son, he was greatly amazed and
confounded; and he immediately began to specu-
late as to what extraordinary combination of circum-


stances could have so suddenly wrought this re-
markable change.
Hoo-ee/" he cried, whut a pow'ful while I
mus' ha' slep'! Or else I grows wuss an' dat ar
Jonus's gourd you tol' me 'bout, whut wuz only a
teenchy leetle simblin at night, and got big as de
hen-house afore mornin'-early sun-up. Hm!
hey look heah, mammy, is I skipped any Christ-
musses ?"
'"No, chile," replied his mother; you aint


SAINJ BIRTH-DAY.






SAM'S B:


skipped nuffin. Dis is yo' buff-day: de 'fects ob
which is, dat it 's des so many yeahs sence you wuz
fust borned. I don't know how 't 'll be, Sam,-folks
is similar to de cocoa-grass, whut grows up mighty
peart, tell 'long come somebody wid a hoe to slosh
it down,-but ef you libs long enough, an' nuffin
happens, you '11 keep on habbin a buff-day ebry
yeah wunst a yeah till you dies. An' ebry time
you has one, son, you '1l be one yeah older."
Fine way to git gray-headed," said Sam.
At this moment a mighty crash resounded from
the kitchen, down-stairs, and Aunt Phillis descended
the steps with great precipitation. Then Sam heard
her shouting, angrily :
You, Bose Oh, you be/tta git, you mean ole
no-'count rascal I do 'sfise a houn'-dog "
Sam went on with his toilet, musing, the while,
upon the probability of his ever getting to be as old
as Uncle "Afrikin Tommy," who was the patriarch
of the plantation, and popularly supposed to be
cluss onto two hundred years of age; and who
was wont to aver that when he arrived in that part
of the country, when he was a boy, the squirrels all
had two tails apiece, and the Mississippi River was
such a small stream that people bridged it, on
occasion, with a fence-rail. Thus meditating upon
the glorious possibilities of his future, Sam got
ready for breakfast, and went down. It was not until
he had absorbed an enormous quantity of fried
pickled-pork and hot corn-cakes, and finally with
reluctance ceased to eat, that his mother told him
what had caused the noise a little while before,-
how old Bose, the fox-hound, had with felonious
intent come into the kitchen, and surreptitiously
supped up the chicken-soup that had been pre-
pared for Sam's birthday breakfast; and further,
how the said delinquent had added insult to injury,
by contemptuously smashing the bowl that he had
emptied.
I alluz did 'low," exclaimed Sam, in justifiable
wrath, as dat 'ar ole houn' Bose wuz de triflin'-
est, meanest dog in de whole State ob Claiborne
County! "
Sam, however, was too true a philosopher to cry
long over spilt milk-or soup. He reflected that
the breakfast he had just taken would prevent his
eating any soup, even if he had it. I is n't injy-
rubber," said he to himself, with which beautiful
and happy thought his frown was superseded by a
smile, the smile developed into his normal grin, and
he began to chant an appropriate stanza from one
of his favorite lyrics :
-o-o-old Uncle John !
A-a-a-aunt Sally Goodin !
When you got enough corn-bread
It's des as good as puddin'."
The excellent Aunt Phillis was much affected


BIRTHDAY. 483


by this saint-like conduct on the part of her son.
She sighed; fearing that the boy was too good to
live.
"Nemmind, Sam," said she; you need n't tote
no wood to-day, or fotch no water, or do nuffin.
Go down to de quarters, an' git Pumble to play wid
you."
Pumble was a boy who in age and tastes corres-
ponded closely with Sam, as he did in complexion.
His real name, at full length, was Pumblechook,-
he having been so christened at the instance of
Mahs'r George, in honor of the immortal corn-and-
seedsman. Off went Sam in search of this boy;
and he found him at the back of the maternal man-
sion, splitting up pine-knots for kindlings. Sam
approached him with a very slow, dignified step,
and a look of commiseration.
Hey, nigger said Sam, dat 's all you fit
for, is to work. Why don't you be a gemman like
me, whut aint a-gwine to do a lick o' work dis whole
day ? "
Done runned away, is you ? answered Pumble.
Well, I '11 come 'round dis ebenin, when de ole
ooman gibs you a dose ob hickory-tea."
Dat'll do, boy;" said Sam. Let you know
dis is my buff-day, an' I wont work for nobody, on
my buff-day. Go ax yo' mammy kin you come
up an' playwid me; tell her my mammy sont word
for you to come."
Pumble dropped the hatchet, stared ecstatically,
and ran in to obtain the desired permission. It was
granted. Then this dialogue occurred:
Be a good chile !"
"Yes 'm."
Don't forgit yo' manners "
Nome."
"'Member you's my son "
"Yes 'm."
Don't you git into no mischuf! "
"Nome."
"Ef you dose, I'1l w'ar you out, sah Now, go
'long !"
The boys trotted merrily away together. But
they had not gone fifty rods before they heard
Pumble's mother calling him. They stopped to
listen.
Take-keer-ob yo'-clo'es /" she shouted, and
then went back into her house.
Under a great pecan-tree, on the lawn before the
'big house," Sam and Pumble sat down to con-
sider and consult, or, as they expressed it, "to
study up whut us gwine to do."
Shill I tell a story ? asked Pumble.
"Does you know a good one? inquired Sam.
Dis story 's gwine to be a new one," said Pum-
ble, beakase I '11 make it up as I go 'long."
Tell ahead," said Sam.






SAM S BIRTHDAY.


Wunst apon a time-" began Pumble. As was his invariable custom when deeply im-
What time ?" interrupted Sam. pressed, Sam began to sing, Pumble joining in:
"Shut up Wunst upon a time. Dey wuz a
man. An' dis heah man lighted up he pipe, an' Jay-bird a-setdin
started out on de big road. An' he went walking' On a winginlib,
He wink at Stephen,
along. Right street along. An' walkin' along, an' Stephen wink at him;
walking' along, an' walking' along. An' walking' Stephen pint de gun,
along. An' walking' along, an' walking' along Pull on d trigger,
Off go de load-
"Dat man wuz gwine all de way, wuz n't he?" An' down come de nigger!"
interjected the listener.
He had n't got no way, hardly, yit," said Pum- Greatly refreshed and invigorated by the chanting
ble, "but he kep' a-walkin' along. An' walking' of this touching ballad, Sam and Pumble returned


C


"THE BOYS TROTTEI)D MERRILY


AWAY TOGETHER."


along, an' walking' along, an' walking' along, an'
walking' along, an' walking' along, an' walking' along,
an' walking' along, an' walking' along-- ."
Stop dat walking' now," said Sam, and tell
whut he done when he got froo walking. "
He come to de place he wuz a-gwine to," said
Pumble.
"Did he, sho' enough?" exclaimed Sam. "'I
wuz kinder skeered he wud n't nebber git dar at all.
Whut did he do nex' ? "
De nex' t'ing he done," said Pumble, impress-
ively, wuz to turn right 'round an' go back whar
he come from. An' dat's all "


to the consideration of their day's programme. A
great many amusements were proposed, discussed,
and rejected in their respective turns. Almost
any one of them would have been held entirely
satisfactory on any ordinary occasion, but Sam
thought none of them good enough for his birth-
day. He required something extraordinary.
Kaint you think up nuffin else ? he asked his
friend, after a long pause.
I done thinked plumb to de back o' my head
already," replied Pumble.
"Den I tell you what," said Sam; "I heard
my pappy say dis: when a pusson wants to think






WAIT.


rale strong, he mus' lay down on de flat ob his
back and shet his eyes ; an' den, putty soon, he kin
think anything he wants to. Let 's try it."
This plan was immediately experimented on.
Pumble instantly succeeded in thinking; but he
only thought that he wished he could have a "buff-
day of his own. Very soon afterward, he ceased
to think at all. As for Sam, his thoughts were for
some time very ordinary--of too commonplace a
nature to be here recorded; but they gradually
assumed such an odd and remarkable shape that
they may fairly be described as a vision. It seemed
to Sam that the whole country around, as far as one
could see, was transformed into one great field, in
a perfect state of cultivation. But the growing
"crop was not one of cotton, or corn, or cow-peas,
or sorghum, or anything else that he had ever
before seen in such a place. Coming up out of
the ground were long rows of very singular bushes,
whereof the stalks were sticks of candy, and the
leaves were blackberry pies, and over the whole
field was falling a drenching rain of molasses. Sam,
however, was most astonished at the curious fruit
that the bushes bore. The twigs of some of them
supported jew's-harps and tin trumpets; others bent
beneath a wealth of fire-crackers and Roman can-
dles; others, again, were weighted with his favorite
sardines; and so on in endless variety. It is not
at all surprising that the idea occurred to him
that this crop ought to be picked." He found
himself becoming highly indignant at the negli-


gence of the planter-whoever he might be-in
leaving all these good things to spoil on the bushes;
and he burned with a desire to have them properly
gathered, and to assist in that work himself. Ac-
cordingly, he was just about to reach for a pie and
a jew's-harp, by way of beginning, when he found
that this was made impossible, by the fact of him-
self having been suddenly and incomprehensibly
changed to a huge water-melon. Over him grew
one of the largest bushes, from whose branches
depended seven roasted 'possums. It was some
consolation to look at them, and imagine how good
they would taste if he only could taste them. Pres-
ently a little gingerbread bird flew down and began
.to peck at him, and say, "Git up, Sam! You
Sam! Sam! "
He woke up, and found that the wonderful field
had vanished, and that he was lying under the old
pecan-tree instead of the 'possum-bush; and there
was his mother shouting in his ear:
Sam don't you heah me, you lazy-S-a-m /
Git up dis minnit an' go to de well for a bucket ob
water, sah, foah I whoop you !"
Pumble sat up and stared.
Why, mammy," said Sam, you tol' me I need
n't do no work, kase it's my buff-day."
I's ben counting' it up ag'in," said Aunt Phillis,
an' foun' out where I made a mis-figger, de fust
time, and tallied wrong altogedder. 'Cordin' to de
c'rect calkilation, yo' buff-day was one day las'
month. WALK arter dat water !"


WAIT.


BY DORA READ GOODALE.


WHEN the icy snow is deep,
Covering the frozen land,
Do the little flowerets peep
To be crushed by Winter's hand?

No, they wait for brighter days,
Wait for bees and butterflies;
Then their dainty heads they raise
To the sunny, sunny skies.


When the cruel north winds sigh,
When 't is cold with wind and rain,
Do the birdies homeward fly
Only to go back again?

No, they wait for spring to come,
Wait for gladsome sun and showers;
Then they seek their northern home,
Seek its leafy, fragrant bowers.


Trustful as the birds and flowers,
Tho' our spring of joy be late,
Tho' we long for brighter hours,
We must ever learn to wait.






THE STORY OF MAY-DAY.




THE STORY OF MAY-DAY.

BY OLIVE THORNE.


ALAS, children the world is growing old. Not
that dear old Mother Earth begins to show her six
thousand (more or less) years, by stiff joints and
clumsy movements, by clinging to her winter's rest
and her warm coverlet of snow, forgetting to push
up the blue-eyed violets in the spring, or neglect-
ing to unpack the fresh green robes of the trees.
No, indeed The blessed mother spins around
the sun as gayly as she did in her first year. She
rises from her winter sleep fresh and young as ever.
Every new violet is as exquisitely tinted, as sweetly
scented, as its predecessors of a thousand years
ago. Each new maple-leaf opens as delicate and
lovely as the first one that ever came out of its
tightly packed bud in the spring. Mother Nature
never grows old.
But the human race changes in the same way
that each one of us does. The race had its child-
hood when men and women played the games that
are now left to you youngsters. We can even see
the change in our own day. Some of us-who
are not grandmothers, either-can remember when
youth of fourteen and fifteen played many games
which, nowadays, an unfortunate damsel of six
years-ruffled, embroidered, and white gowned,
with delicate shoes, and hips in the vice-like grasp
of a modern sash-feels are altogether too young
for her. I dare say I shall live to see the once-
beloved dolls abandoned to babies; and I fear the
next generation will find a Latin grammar in the
cradle instead of a rattle-box, and baby cutting his
teeth scientifically, with a surgical instrument, in-
stead of on a rubber ring.
Well, well! What do you suppose our great-
grandchildren will do ?
We must not let these old-fashioned customs be
forgotten, and I want to tell you the story of May-
day. A curious tale is told of the beginning of the
May-day celebration, which is of more venerable
age than perhaps you know. You shall hear it,
and then you can believe as much as you choose,
as all the rest of the world takes the liberty of
doing; for although the grave old Roman writers
put it in their books for truth, it is very much
doubted by our modern wiseheads, because it is so
unreasonable, and so inelegant (as our dainty critic
says). As though the world was always reason-
able, forsooth or undoubted historical facts did
not sometimes lack the important quality of ele-
gance !
However it may be, here is the story: Many


hundred years ago,-about two hundred before
Christ, in fact,-there lived in Rome a beautiful
woman named Flora. Had she lived in these luxu-
rious days, she would have enjoyed another name
or two; but in those simple times she was plain
Flora.
Being human, this lady had a great dread of
being forgotten when she had left the world. So
she devised a plan to keep her memory green.
She made a will giving her large fortune to the
city of Rome, on condition that a festival in her
memory should be celebrated every year.
When the will came before the grave and rev-
erend Roman senators, it caused serious talk. To
decline so rich a gift was not to be thought of; yet
to accept the condition they did not like, for it was
a bold request in Madam Flora, who had, to say
the least, done nothing worthy of celebrating. At
last, according to the old story-tellers, a way out
of the difficulty was found, as there generally is;
and the city fathers decided to accept the terms,
and make Flora worthy of the honor by placing
her among their minor deities, of which there were
no less than thirty thousand. She took her place
as Goddess of Flowers, with a celebration about the
first of May, to be called Floralia, after her.
This little story may be a fable ; but now I shall
tell you some facts. When the Romans came to
Britain to live, many hundred years ago, they
brought, of course, their own customs and festivals,
among which was this one in memory of Flora.
The heathen-our ancestors, you know-adopted
them with delight, being in the childhood of their
race. They became very popular; and when, some
years later, a good priest, Gregory, came (from
Rome also) to convert the natives, he wisely took
advantage of their fondness for festivals, and not
trying to suppress them, he simply altered them
from heathen feasts to Christian games, by substi-
tuting the names of saints and martyrs for heathen
gods and goddesses. Thus the Floralia became
May-day celebration, and lost none of its popularity
by the change. On the contrary, it was carried on
all over England for ages, till its origin would have
been lost but for a few pains-taking old writers,
who made notes" of everything.
The Floralia we care nothing for, but the May-
day games have lasted nearly to our day, and some
relics of it still survive in our young country.
When you crown a May queen, or go with a May
party, you are simply following a custom that the


[MAY,






THE STORY OF MAY-DAY.


Romans began, and that our remote ancestors in
England carried to such lengths, that not only
ordinary people, but lords and ladies, and even
king and queen, laid aside their state and went
"a-Maying" early in the morning, to wash their
faces in May dew, and bring home fresh boughs
and flowers to deck the May-pole, which reared its
flowery crown in every village.
Great were the doings around the May-pole,
for which the tallest and straightest of trees was
selected. It was drawn to its place by as many as
thirty or forty yoke of oxen, their horns decorated
with flowers, followed by all the lads and lassies of
the village. The pole was wound or painted with
gay colors, and trimmed with garlands, bright
handkerchiefs, and ribbon streamers, from top to
bottom.
With great ceremonies, and shouts of joy, it was
lifted to its place by ropes and pulleys, and set up
firmly in the ground; and then the people joined
hands and danced around it. The whole day was
given up to merriment, every one dressed in holi-
day clothes, doors and windows were adorned with
green boughs and flowers, the bells rang, proces-
sions of people in grotesque dresses were arranged,
and the famous Morris dancers performed.
In this dance the people assumed certain charac-
ters. There was always Robin Hood, the great
hero of the rustics; Maid Marian, the queen, with
gilt crown on her head; Friar Tuck; a fool, with
his fool's-cap and bells; and, above all, the hobby-
horse. This animal was made of pasteboard, painted
a sort of pink color, and propelled by a man inside,
who made him perform various tricks not common
to horses, such as threading a needle and holding
a ladle in his mouth for pennies.
The various characters labored to support their
parts. The friar gave solemn advice, the queen
imitated lady-like manners, the fool joked and
made fun, and the horse pranced in true horsey
style.
This Morris dance is supposed to have been
brought in early times from Spain, where the
Moors danced it, and where it still survives as the
"fandango."
All this May-day merriment came to an end
when our grim Puritan fathers had power in Eng-
land. Dancing around the May-pole looked to
them like heathen adoration of an idol. Parlia-
ment made a law against it, and all the May-poles
in the island were laid in the dust. The common
people had their turn, when, a few years later,
under a new king, the prohibitory law was re-
pealed, and a new May-pole, the highest ever in
England (one hundred and thirty-four feet), was
set up in the Strand, London, with great pomp.
But the English people were fast outgrowing the


sport, and the customs have been dying out ever
since. Now, a very few May-poles in obscure vil-
lages are all that can be found.
Though May-pole and Morris dancing were the
most common, there were other curious customs in
different parts of the kingdom. In one place, the
Mayers went out very early to the woods, and
gathering green boughs, decorated every door with
one. A house containing a sweetheart had a branch
of birch, the door of a scold was disgraced with
alder, and a slatternly person had the mortification
to find a branch of a nut-tree at hers, while the
young people who overslept found their doors
closed by a nail over the latch.
In other places, wreaths were made on hoops,
with a gayly dressed doll in the middle of each,
and carried about by girls, the little owners singing
a ballad which had been sung since the time of
Queen Bess,-and expecting a shower of pennies,
of course.
In Dublin, the youths decorated a bush, four or
five feet high, with candles, which they lighted and
danced around till burnt out. They then lighted
a huge bonfire, threw the bush on it, and continued
their dance around that. In other parts of Ireland,
the boys had a mischievous habit of running through
the streets with bundles of nettles, with which they
struck the face and hands of every one they met.
The sting of nettle, perhaps you know, is a very
uncomfortable pain. The same people are very
superstitious, and they believed that the power of
the Evil Eye was greater on the first of May than
at any other time; and they insured a good supply
of milk for the year by putting a green bough
against the house, which is certainly an easy way.
In old times, the Druids drove all the cattle through
the fire, to keep them from diseases, and this cus-
tom still survives in parts of Ireland, where many a
peasant who owns a cow and a bit of straw is care-
ful to do the same.
In the Scottish Highlands, in the eighteenth
century, the boys had a curious custom. They
would go to the moors outside of the town, make a
round table in the sod, by cutting a trench around
it, deep enough for them to sit down to their
grassy table. On this table they would kindle a
fire and cook a custard of eggs and milk, and
knead a cake of oat-meal, which was toasted by the
fire. After eating the custard, the cake was cut
into as many parts as there were boys; one piece
was made black with coal, and then all put into a
cap. Each boy was in turn blindfolded, and made
to take a piece, and the one who selected the black
one was to be sacrificed to Baal, whose favor they
wished to ask for their harvest. The victim in that
day had only to leap through the fire ; but there is
little doubt that the whole thing was a survival






THE STORY OF MAY-DAY.


from the days when human beings were really
sacrificed.
In the island of Lewis, in the west of Scotland,
there prevails a custom of sending a man very early
on May-day to cross a certain river, believing that



is :I -, I : I, ,


at ,n '. 11 i i II I'ii'" .I .




1.i, ,, ii1,,* ,'





S -r i l i i r i i ll .I r I I


many it was the firm belief of the common people
that certain ill-disposed beings met on a high
mountain on May-day to dance and feast, with no
good intentions to their human neighbors. Accord-


AN OLD-TIME MAY-DAY
surrounded by trees stuck into flower-pots, and
ornamented with gay-colored flags, and hoops with
garlands and gilt balls hanging. Another sort had
wooden dolls made to represent the figures of
peasants, nailed against the pole by their hands
and knees, as though climbing it. There were also
figures of birds and people. In some parts of Ger-


IN "MERRIE ENGLAND."
ingly on the day before, every family was careful
to have a thorn of a certain kind, which was stuck
into the door as a protection.
The Scandinavians, whose first of May is not
very balmy, had of old a curious fight between
Summer and Winter. Winter-or the man repre-
senting him-was dressed in skins, armed with






WILD GEESE.


fire-forks, and threw snow-balls and pieces of ice.
Summer was dressed in green leaves and summer
dress. They had a mock fight which was called
" Driving away Winter and welcoming Summer,"
and in the Isle of Man, where Norwegians had rule
for many years, this custom lingered until very
lately.
But, as the years went on, these merry games died
out, and a few years ago May-day was in London
simply the festival of chimney-sweeps and milk-
maids, certainly a falling off from the times of King
Henry VIII. The only traces of the old custom of
going a-Maying were the garlands of the milk-maids
and the Jack-in-the-green of the sweeps. The
garland (so called) was made of silver plate, bor-
rowed for the day, and fastened upon a sort of
pyramid. Accompanying this droll garland were
the maids themselves in gay dress, with ribbons
and flowers, and attended by musicians who played
for them to dance in the street. Sometimes a cow
was dressed in festive array, with bouquets and
ribbons on her horns, neck and tail, and over her
back a net, stuck full of flowers. Thus highly orna-
mented, the meek creature was led through the
streets.
The sweeps brought out the Jack-in-the-green,
which was a tall cone made of green boughs, deco-


rated with flowers, gay streamers and a flag, and
carried by a man inside. Each of these structures
was followed by a band of sweeps who assumed
certain characters, the fashion of which had been
handed down from the palmy times of May-day.
There were always a lord and lady who wore
ridiculous imitations of fashionable dress, and made
ludicrous attempts to imitate elegant manners.
Mad Moll and her husband were another pair who
flourished in tawdry, gay-colored rags, and tatters,
he brandishing a sweeyn' broom and she a ladle.
Jim Crow and a fancifully bedizened ballet-dancer
in white muslin, often swelled the ranks, and the
rest of the party rigged out in a profusion of gilt
paper, flowers, tinsel and gewgaws, their faces and
legs colored with brick-dust, made up a comical
crowd. But even these mild remains of the great
festival are almost entirely banished to the rural
districts, and are almost extinct there.
Poor Flora! (if there ever was such a person)
she has her wish (if that wish ever existed save in
the imagination of the Romans); she is not forgot-
ten; her story survives in musty books, though
her personality be questioned; various marble
statues bear her pretty name, and, after running
this declining scale through the ages, she and her
May-day are softened by time to a fragrant memory.


WILD GEESE.

By CELIA THAXTER.

THE wind blows, the sun shines, the birds sing loud,
The blue, blue sky is flecked with fleecy dappled cloud,
Over earth's rejoicing fields the children dance and sing,
And the frogs pipe in chorus, "It is spring! it is spring!"

The grass comes, the flower laughs where lately lay the snow,
O'er the breezy hill-top hoarsely calls the crow,
By the flowing river the alder catkins swing,
And the sweet song-sparrow cries, Spring it is spring "

Hark, what a clamor goes winging through the sky !
Look, children Listen to the sound so wild and high!
Like a peal of broken bells,-kling, klang, kling,-
Far and high the wild geese cry, Spring! it is spring!"

Bear the winter off with you, 0 wild geese dear !
Carry all the cold away, far away from here;
Chase the snow into the north, 0 strong of heart and wing,
While we share the robin's rapture, crying, Spring it is spring!"


489






THE CHARCOAL-BURNERS' FIRE.


THE CHARCOAL-BURNERS' FIRE; OR, EASTER EVE
AMONG THE COSSACKS.
(A Russian Legend.)

BY DAVID KER.


IF you want me to tell you any wonderful
stories, Barin, such as you 've been telling us,"
says Ostap Mordenko, shaking his bushy yellow
beard, as he finished his cup of tea, "you're just
looking for corn upon a rock, -as the saying is ; for
I never had an adventure since the day I was
born, except that time when I slipped through a
hole in the ice, last winter. But, perhaps, it will
do as well if I tell you an old tale that I've heard
many a time from my grandfather, that's dead
(may the kingdom of heaven be his !), and which
will show you how there may be hope for a man,
even when everything seems to be at the very
worst.
Many, many years ago, there lived in a village
on the Don River, a poor man. When I say he
was poor, I don't mean that he had a few holes in
his coat at times, or that he had to go without a
dinner every now and then, for that's what we've
all had to do in our time; but it fairly seemed as
if poverty were his brother, and had come to stay
with him for good and all. Many a cold day his
stove was unlighted, because he could n't afford to
buy wood; and he lived on black bread and cold
water from the New Year to the Nativity-it was
no good talking to him about cabbage soup, or
salted cucumber, or tea with lemon in it.*
"Now, if he had only had himself to be
troubled about, it would n't have mattered a
kopeck,f for a man can always make-shift for him-
self. But, you see, this man had been married
once upon a time, and, although his wife was gone,
his three children were left, and he had them to
care for as well as himself. And, what was worse,
instead of being boys, who might have gone out
and earned something for themselves, they were all
girls, who could do nothing but stay at home and
cry for food, and many a time it went to his heart
so that he stopped his ears, and ran out of the
house that he mightn't hear them.
"However, as the saying is, 'Bear up, Cos-
sack, and thou'lt be Maman (chief) some day;' so
he struggled on somehow or other, till at last it
came to Easter Eve. And then all the village was
up like a fair, some lighting candles before the
pictures of the saints; some baking cakes and pies,
and all sorts of good things; others running about


in their best clothes, greeting their friends and
relations; and, as soon as it came to midnight,
such a kissing and embracing, such a shaking of
hands and exchanging of good wishes, as I daresay
you 've seen many a time in our villages; and
nothing to be heard all over the place but 'Christ
is risen !' 'He is risen indeed !'
"But, as you may think, our poor Stepka (Ste-
phen) had neither new clothes nor rejoicings in his
hut-nor lighted candles either, for that matter.
The good old priest had left him a few tapers as
he passed, for he was always a kind man to the
poor; but he had quite forgotten that the poor
fellow would have nothing to kindle them with,
and so, though the candles were in their places, all
ready for lighting, there was not a glimmer of
light to be seen And that troubled poor Stepka
more than all his other griefs, for he was a true
Russian, and thought it a sore thing that he could
not even do honor to the day on which our Lord
had arisen from the dead. Besides, he had hoped
that the sight of the pretty light would amuse his
children, and make them forget their hunger a
little; and at the thought of their disappointment
his heart was very sore.
"However, as the proverb says, 'Sitting still
wont make one's corn grow.' So he got up and
went out to beg a light from some of his neighbors.
But the people of the village (it's a pity to have to
say it), were a hard-hearted, cross-grained set, who
had not a morsel of compassion for a man in
trouble; for they forgot that the tears of the poor
are God's thunder-bolts, and that every one of them
will burn into a man's soul at last, as good father
Arkadi used to tell us. So, when poor Stepka
came up to one door after another, saying humbly,
'Give me a light for my Easter candles, good
neighbors, for the love of Heaven,' some mocked
at him, and others bade him begone, and others
asked why he did n't take better care of his own
concerns, instead of coming bothering them;, and
one or two laughed, and told him there was a fine
bright moon overhead, and all he had to do was to
reach up a good long stick and get as much light
as he wanted. So, you see, the poor fellow did n't
get much by that move; and what with the disap-
pointment, and what with grief at finding himself


* The three great dainties of the Russian peasant. t One-third of a penny; one hundred kopecks equal one trouble.
SThe Easter greeting, and reply.


490






THE CHARCOAL-BURNERS' FIRE


so shabbily treated by his own neighbors, just
because he happened to be poor, he was ready to
go out of his wits outright.
"Just then he happened to look down into the
plain (for the village stood on the slope of a hill),
and behold there were ever so many lights twin-
kling all over it, as if a regiment were encamped
there; and Stepka thought that this must be a
gang of charcoal-burners halting for the night, as
they often did in passing to and fro. So, then the
thought struck him, 'Why should n't I go and
beg a light from them; they can't well be harder




.. -..,





-












-1 , . -
STEPKA CARRIES THE FIRE IN HIS CLOAK.
upon me than my own neighbors have been. I'll
try, at any rate !'
"And off he set, down the hill, right toward the
encampment.
"The nearer he came to it, the brighter the
fires seemed to burn; and the sight of the cheery
light, and all the people coming and going around
it, all so busy and happy, made him feel comforted
without knowing why. He went right up to the
nearest fire, and took off his cap.
S' Christ is risen !' said he.
"'He is risen indeed!' answered one of the
black men, in such a clear, sweet voice, that it
sounded to Stepka just like his mother singing him
to sleep when he was a child.
'Give me a light for my Easter candles, good
people, I pray you.'
'You are heartily welcome,' said the other,
pointing to the glowing fire; 'but how are you
going to carry it home ?'


'Oh, dear me cried poor Stepka, striking
his forehead, I never thought about that !'
"'Well, that shows that you were very much
in earnest, my friend,' said the other, laughing;
'but never mind; I think we can manage it for
you. Lay down your coat.'
Stepka pulled off his old patched coat and laid
it on the ground, wondering what was to come
next; but what was his amazement when the man
coolly threw two great shovelfuls of blazing wood
into the coat, as coolly as if it were a charcoal
bucket!
"' Hallo hallo !' cried Stepka, seizing his arm,
'what on earth are you about, burning my coat
that way?'
"'Your coat will be none the worse, brother,'
said the charcoal-burner, with a curious smile.
'Look and see '
"And, sure enough, the fire lay quietly in the
hollow of the coat, and never singed a thread of it !
Stepka was so startled, that for a moment he
thought he had to do, not with charcoal-burners,
but with something worse; but, remembering how
they had greeted him in the Holy Name, he
became easy again.
Good luck to you, my lad,' said the strange
man, as the Cossack took up his load. 'You'll
get it home all right, never fear.'
"Away went Stepka like one in a dream, and
never stopped till he got to his own house. He
lighted all his candles, and then awoke his children
(who had cried themselves to sleep) that they
might enjoy the bonny light; and, when they saw
it they clapped their hands and shouted for joy.
"Just then Stepka happened to look toward his
coat, which he had laid down on the table, with
the burning wood still in it, and started as if he
had been stung. It was choke-full ofgold-good,
solid ducats* as ever were coined, more than he
could have counted in a whole hour. Then he
knew that his strange companions were no char-
coal-burners, but God's own angels sent to help him
in his need; and he kneeled down and gave thanks
to God for his mercy.
Now, just at that moment one of the neighbors
happened to be passing, and, hearing the children
hurrahing and clapping their hands, he peeped
through the window, wondering what they could
find to be merry about. But, when he saw the
heap of gold on the table, everything else went
clean out of his head, and he opened the door and
burst in, like a wolf flying from the dogs.
'I say,' cried he, without even stopping to
give Stepka the greeting of the day, 'where did
you get this fine legacy from? It makes one's
eyes blink to look at it !'


* The Russian word is "tchervontzi"-gold pieces worth five dollars each.







PARLOR BALLOONING.


"Now, Stepka was a good-hearted fellow, as
I've said, and he never thought of remembering
how badly this very man had treated him an
hour or two before, but just told him the whole
story right out, exactly as I tell it you now. The
other hardly waited to hear the end of it, but set
off full speed to find these wonderful charcoal-
burners, and try if he could n't get some gold out
of them, too. And, as there had been more than
a few listeners at the door while the tale was being
told, it ended with the whole village running like
mad in the same direction.
When they got to the burners' camp, the char-
coal men looked at them rather queerly, as well
they might, to see such a procession come to ask for
a light all at once. However, they said nothing,
but signed to them to lay their coats on the ground,
and served out two shovelfuls of burning wood
to each; and away went the roguish villagers,
chuckling at the thought of getting rich so easily,
and thinking what they would do with their money.


"But they had hardly gone a quarter of the way
home, when the foremost suddenly gave a terrible
howl and let fall his load; and in another moment
all the rest joined in, till there was a chorus that
you might have heard a mile off. And they had
good reason; for, although the fire had lain in
Stepka's coat, it would n't lie in theirs-it had
burned right through, and their holiday clothes
were spoiled, and their hands famously blistered,
and all that was left of their riches was a smoke
and smell like the burning of fifty tar-barrels. And
when they turned to abuse the charcoal-burners,,
the charcoal-burners were gone; fires, camp and
men had all vanished like a dream !
"But as for Stepka, his gold stuck by him, and
he used it well. And always, on the day of his
visit to the charcoal-burners, he gave a good
dinner to as many poor folk as he could get
together, saying that he must be good to others,
even as God had been good to him. And that's
the end of my story."


PARLOR BALLOONING.

BY L. HOPKINS.


HERE goes the toy balloon
man !
Here, take this ten-cent
piece; run after him as
hard as ever you can, and
Spring me one of those over-
grown ripe-cherry-looking
things, and I will show
you a few queer tricks the
toy balloon can do, which,
I'll venture to say, the
inventor of toy balloons himself never
thought of.
Ah I see you have picked out a fine / /
plump one. Now for a bit of paper-any .
kind will do. This, torn from an old
newspaper at random, will serve the pur-
pose admirably.
Now, I crumple it up at one corner, and
tie it to Mr. Balloon's half yard or so of tail, and
turn him loose in the room. He rises slowly for a
little, and then as slowly settles down to the floor.
That wont do. I want to see him exactly balanced
between floor and ceiling; so, of course, the paper
must be of exactly the same weight as the balloon
itself. We soon can accomplish that. See! I


tear off a bit more. Too heavy yet? He rises
higher this time, and settles down more slowly to
the floor. Tear again. Whew! I took off too


much that time. He rises to the ceiling, bumping
his head against it a few times, and finally remains
there in a sullen manner as if determined he will
have no more of our nonsense.
I recapture him, and this time I add to the
weight of his tail, by dividing in two the last bit
which I tore off, and twisting it around the string.


492






PARLOR BALLOONING.


493


Now, then, sir, you may go! See! he rises
slowly, slowly, until about midway between floor
and ceiling, where he stops and turns slowly about,
as if making up his mind what to do next.
Presto a current of air strikes him, and he
begins dodging about in a frantic manner, as if to
escape from some invisible enemy. Presently he
becomes calmer, and proceeds to explore every
nook and corner of the room ; now going up close
to the clock on the mantel, as if to ascertain the
time of day; now taking a look at himself in the
mirror; then, turning suddenly away (as if in con-
fusion to find you have caught him at it), he moves
toward the window, and pretends to be interested
in what is going on outside; but, a draught of air
coming briskly in, he hastens away as fast as ever


with the air of a critic. You lie down on your
back, on the comfortable sofa in the corner, watch-
ing the balloon as it sails slowly about, and wonder-
ing what it will do next, until-until you fall asleep !
You are awakened by something tickling your
nose; and, looking up, you suddenly discover the


he can, as if in fear of taking cold. Skimming
along close to the floor, he reaches the opposite
side of the room, and, slowly rising again, peers
into the canary's cage. The occupant resents
the liberty with erect feathers, and our balloon
quickly descends, and takes refuge under the
piano. Recovering his presence of mind, pres-
ently he peeps cautiously out, and begins to ascend
again. Here he comes toward us-slowly, majes-
tically Strike at him with a fan, and lo he re-
treats in great disorder to a remote corner of the
room, dodging about in most eccentric fashion,
when, recovering his self-possession after a time,
he goes about examining the pictures on the wall


/C






toy balloon hovering over you, with its tail in your
face, and apparently enjoying your surprise.
All this, and much more indeed, will a toy bal-
loon do, if treated in the manner I have described.
Begin with a piece of paper rather heavier than
the balloon, and tear off bit by bit until the two
exactly balance.






DRIFTED INTO PORT.




DRIFTED INTO PORT.

BY EDWIN HODDER.


CHAPTER IX.
AMONG THE FISHER FOLKS.
WE cannot follow the holiday party through all
their pleasant wanderings, nor tell of the impres-
sions made upon them by the scenes, celebrated in
history and romance, through which they traveled.
Their drives in the midday heat, their strolls in
the cool evening, their resting hours as they talked
over the events of the day, all were harmonious
and gladsome.
If there was one part of the trip which gave
them greater pleasure than the rest, it was their
visit to the Shetland Isles.
There was an indescribable pleasure to our young
folks in wandering under cliffs gaunt and bare,
and hearing the stories of Vikings, who fought and
fell, or fought and conquered in these isles.
Sometimes in their wanderings they would come
upon a fairy-ring," and as they listened to the
strange stories told by the islanders, they seemed to
be really in some bewitched and spell-bound place.
Or, perhaps a Kernn," standing solitary upon some
hill-top, would call forth a whole series of Danish
and Norwegian legends, which would give them
food for reflection for days.
Many a pleasant adventure they had as they
rode together on their sure-footed little shelties,"
or climbed the crags and rocks to look down upon
the isles, like so many stars reflected froni the
sky." And many a pleasant talk they had with
the hospitable inhabitants, who rehearsed to them
some of the dangers which assail the dwellers in
those solitary little islands. The narrow belts of
sea, which divide their ocean-girded homes, have
constantly to be ferried across, and many a boat
which has gone out manned with a gallant crew
has never returned or sent a waif to tell its story.
It was partly to acquire a knowledge of the Shet-
land character, and to see some phases of its home-
life, that our friends, when they came at last to one
little village by the sea, where they had only in-
tended to make a flying visit, determined to halt
there for a few days. It was a charming spot; on
the one side of the village there were to be seen
some of the finest specimens of the savage grand-
eur of cliff and crag, and on the other the smiling,
genial face of cultivation and quiet beauty.
On the morning our friends arrived at the vil-
lage, they found three fishermen at work beside
their cottage door, on the margin of the sea. They


were brothers-Ole, Maurice, and Eric Hu'ghson;
all young men, handsome, strong and intelligent.
Howard and Martin made friends with them at
once, and as the morning was calm and bright,
entered into arrangements with them for their best
boat to be launched, so that our friends might
have a long sail, to visit some of the caverns
abounding on the coast, and to see the homes of
the wild sea-birds, and the haunts of the fowlers.
When the hamper of provisions was safely on
board, and the party for the picnic had followed it,
of course the sea air and the fine scenery set every
tongue loose, so that the solitary places rang again
with the merry laughter and the voice of song.
And then, when the first irrepressible pleasure had
spent itself a little, the young folks gathered round
the three brothers, and listened with attentive in-
terest to the yarns they were spinning to Mr. Mor-
ton about some of the places they were passing; for
every spot in the Shetlands has its own story.
Madeleine noticed that beneath the mirth and
apparent gayety of the men, there seemed to be an
under-current of deep feeling, probably born of
sorrow, and she determined, if possible, to find her
way to the hearts of the fine manly fellows, in
whom she began to be interested.
It was not long before an opportunity occurred.
The boat was steered round a huge bluff, and
before our friends were aware where they were
going, they found themselves in a vast cavern.
There was something awful in the half-darkness
into which they passed, and the dreary stillness,
only broken by the splashing of the water against
the sides of the cave, enhanced the feeling. As
the boat rested in the midst of the cavern, they
looked up, and saw as it were, stars shining through
the massive roof; they looked around, and the
huge rocks seemed like burnished metal. It was
a curious sight, and the sounds were equally curi-
ous, f6r every word they spoke came back again to
the speaker, with a ghostly hollowness.
Madeleine, with Howard and Martin, sang a song
together, which sounded splendidly within this
vaulted cave, with all its wild re-echoings. When
it ended, the boat glided slowly out of the cavern,
and although they had enjoyed the somber magnifi-
cence they had left, they were all glad to be in the
fresh air and cheerful sunshine again.
Madeleine watched her opportunity, and when
she saw Eric alone in the fore part of the boat, she
quietly disengaged herself from the rest of the






DRIFTED I


party, and, sitting down beside him, said : Eric,
I believe you have seen some great sorrow, though
you are so young."
I was only twenty-two last birthday, Miss, but
I have had sorrow enough."
"Would it pain you to tell me your story?"
she said.
No, Miss, it may do me good to tell it. It is
a short and sad one. Two years ago my two
brothers, Robbie and Gideon, both younger than I
am, went away from here on a whaling expedition.
There was a fine crew of fifty, half of them Shet-
landers, and the rest English. There were one or
two gentlemen's sons amongst the crew, and as
nice a set of fellows altogether as a seaman could
wish. They set sail in good spirits, and it was
from the headland yonder that we heard their
cheers, as they sailed out on their whaling expedi-
tion. From that day to this no word has come of
them, and we fear that all are lost. It has been a
heavy blow to us. When they went away it seemed
as if the light had gone out of the old home, for
they were young and merry and clever. The long
waiting to hear from them has been as bad as the
fear that they have perished."
"God comfort you, Eric," said Madeleine, ten-
derly, as she wiped away her tears. God com-
fort you. No words of mine can help to heal this
wound."
Thank you, Miss," said Eric. I see you feel
for us, and that helps-better than words, some-
times."
CHAPTER X.
IN THE STORM.
THE next morning, as Howard and Martin were
coming up from the beach, where they had been
taking a swim, they saw Maurice and Eric standing
on the edge of a cliff looking out seaward, and
they had not walked far before Eric came hastily
toward them.
You 've never seen a Shetland storm, young
gentlemen," he said, "but you may see one to-
day and to-morrow, too, for I doubt if you will get
away from here as soon as you expected. I see
the ladies coming out; it might be well to go and
tell them."
"Come along, Madeleine! Hurry, Ethel !" cried
Martin; "you will soon see the sight we have
longed for-a storm at sea. Eric says there is one
brewing."
The ladies looked incredulous, and Mr. Morton
put on his double eye-glasses, and looked around
with the air of one who more than half suspects he
is being taken in.
It was a still, lovely summer morning. The sea
was as calm as a village brook; the waves lazily


NTO PORT. 495


played upon the shore, and the breeze scarcely
stirred the little flag which Eric had mounted on
his boat in honor of the visitors.
Presently, however, the dark clouds came up in
rapid procession; the surf began to sigh and
moan; the sea-fowls caught the sound, and cried
as they only cry when the ocean is angry.
The boats lying out hoisted sail and scudded away
for the nearest haven of shelter. Then a white
line of light rose up sharply against the black bank
of clouds, and the still sea became covered with
white-crested waves. The quiet shore rang again
with the booming of waters, as they leapt against
the rocks and broke in foaming spray.
It was a grand sight. The whole aspect of sea
and sky and land had changed.
Ole, Maurice and Eric had withdrawn from the
party of visitors and were standing on an eminence,
talking earnestly, and looking out to sea with such
evident anxiety, that Howard and Martin clambered
up to them to hear what was the matter.
Well, sir, you see that ship out there, we can't
make her out," said Maurice. "We've watched
her for an hour, and she has n't shifted an inch of
sail."
I don't see her at all," said Howard. Do you,
Martin ? "
No, Martin could not, because he had not that
wonderfully acute sight which the discipline of con-
stant experience gives to seamen.
However, with the aid of a glass he saw her
clearly, and was seaman enough to know that she
was playing a dangerous game in carrying so much
canvas in such a gale.
And what's the strangest part of all is, that
she 's making straight for rocks, if she keeps the
same course," said Ole.
Can't you make out who or what she is?"
asked Howard.
I should say by her build she was a whaler,"
answered Maurice, taking up the glass again and
having a long look. Then he hastily passed it to
Ole and Ole to Eric.
There 's no time to be lost," said Ole, the
storm will be too heavy in another hour for us to
put off. She 's in danger, there 's no mistake, and
we must get to her. It seems to me there can't be
any crew on board, or if there is, they must be
mad. It's the strangest thing I ever saw."
In a few moments all was excitement; the news
spread through the village like wild-fire; every
cottage was astir; old and young came out to see
and hear and speculate; while half a dbzen stal-
wart fellows, including the three brothers, made
ready for the start. Howard and Martin were
among the first to volunteer to accompany them,
but the fishermen would not hear of it. There






DRIFTED INTO PORT.


was no time to discuss the matter; all was hurry
and bustle.
See the crew is ready; all hands are wanted
for the launch. It is no easy matter; the waves
are beating in on the shore, and threaten to
swamp the boat almost before she starts on her
perilous errand. Hurrah she rides Ole is at
the helm ; a manly cheer comes to the now silent
watchers on the shore, and the little craft plunges
through the waters, now rising on a crested wave,
now sinking into the valley of waters, but speed-
ing her devious way toward the mysterious ship.
Madeleine clings to the arm of Howard, pale
with the excitement. Ethel has hardly dared to
speak, and Martin has not found it in his heart to
break the intense silence of those anxious moments
as they watch the departure.
But see a group has gathered on the spot
where Ole, Maurice and Eric had stood. It is the
favorite lookout. The glass is there, and an old
man has taken it in his steady hand, and is report-
ing the news by little jerks of speech to the anxious
throng around him. It is Ole Hughson, the
father of the three brothers.
Can make out one man on board. He sees
them. They 've tacked again. It aint so bad as
it looked. Sea's quieter there. Hulloa there
goes a sail to ribbons. They are tacking again.
She has slackened sail. Good good "
But other eyes can now make out the scene, for
the ship draws nearer, and the eyes that have
gazed so long seem to have gained strength to see
further.
The Shetland boat nears the ship; it is near
enough for the crew to catch the cry that comes
from the solitary man upon the deck.
See the little boat tacks again, and is now
close in the wake of the ship. Good heavens in
that sea, with those waves running, will they dare
to attempt to board her ?
Yes, a rope has been thrown to them. Thank
God, it is caught! But the little boat has sunk!
No, she has but gone down in the great valley of
waters, and is riding safe and sound. Look!
some one from the Shetland boat has caught hold
of the rudder-chains. He climbs the dangerous
way. He is on board. It is Eric-the brave,
dauntless Eric. Another and another follow, and
all reach the ship in safety.
No sooner had the brave Shetlanders mounted
the deck than they were at work with a desperate
will. A glance sufficed to show them that the
management of the vessel depended upon them ;
and in a moment they were masters of the situa-
tion. Ole established himself at the wheel, and
thundered forth his orders.
As if by magic, the course of the vessel was


altered; dangling spars were cut away and thrown
adrift, sail was taken in, and our friends on the
shore could see that they were endeavoring to bring
the ship to haven in the bay.
No time was to be lost with those who would
witness the arrival and disembarkation ; for,
although it would have been a comparatively short
distance if there had been a sea-coast and a calm
sea, the haven was cut off from the village by rug-
ged rocks and headlands, which necessitated a
journey of some miles.
Howard and Martin, as soon as they saw that
the ship was in the hands of the fishermen, rushed
off at the top of their speed to get ready the first
shelties they could lay their hands on, knowing,
that in such a time of excitement, everybody in
the place being related, directly or indirectly, to
the six men who were on board, it was vain to put
much trust in the help of others.
That morning marked an epoch in the life of
Mrs. Morton. She had always been too languid
to encounter any excitement of any sort, but she
had watched the events of this day with an interest
which was as new to herself as it was to all who knew
her. And when the young folks declared that they
must see the end of the matter, come what might,
nothing could dissuade her, despite the fatigue,
from making one of the party.
There was a tedious delay in getting the ponies
together and saddling them for the journey. Those
who had gone off on foot, and were accustomed to
fatigues, had gained a long march on the visitors,
and Howard had agreed with Martin that it would
save time in the end if they only took four ponies,
for the ladies and Mr. Morton, and went them-
selves on foot.
At last all was ready, and the start was made
with the best speed possible in the circumstances.
But they labored under one or two great disadvan-
tages; the first was that they did not know the
quickest route, and the next was that they could
not see the vessel, having to make an inland jour-
ney to reach the haven.
When at last they came to the edge of a cliff,
which they rightly judged must overlook their des-
tination, a scene broke upon their view which
staggered them.
The ship was at anchor; many people were
upon the shore, and in little knots they were kneel-
ing round the bodies of men stretched upon the
strand, while boats were passing to and fro,
freighted, as it would seem, with the dying and the
dead.
This is no scene for you, my dears," said Mr.'
Morton, as he saw the pallor on the faces of those
around him, we must return at once."
Return ?" cried Madeleine, "when perhaps the


496


[MAY,






DRIFTED INTO PORT.


dead can be ministered to, and the dying cheered.
Oh no, no! "
It was useless to resist such an appeal, nor was
it necessary, for, as she spoke, a woman, running,
drew near to them.
Tell me, what does it mean ?" cried Howard
to her.
Near twenty men on board, dead and dying
The ship is half full of water, and is sinking."
They urged their way along, passing groups in
attendance on the prostrate ones upon the shore.
Howard and Martin led; the others followed. The


The sea-birds have gone to their nests, and the
moon, bright and beautiful, is flooding ocean and
land with its calm, clear light.
Howard and Martin walk together along the
grassy way between their cottage and the sea.
They look anxiously, from time to time, along
the road, for they are expecting the arrival of the
doctor, and they make a start together as they see
a form in the distance. But it is not the doctor;
it is Eric.
"Well, Eric, what news? How are your pa-
tients, to-night ? "


-r ~ i


-__0 -


ad'-


-.- "- -i


IN THE ICE. [SEE PAGE 499.]


whole party gathered about a boat that had just
come in, and from which Eric was trying to lift
the apparently lifeless body of a young man.
All at once, Mrs. Morton threw up her arms,
uttered a piercing cry, and fell forward to the
ground. Then, in quick succession, horror, sur-
prise, and joy filled the hearts of the little group,
as they, too, recognized in Eric's burden the form
and features of Digby Morton !

CHAPTER XI.
A STRANGE STORY.
THE wind is hushed now. The sea beats no
longer with rude shocks against the echoing cliffs.
VOL. V.-34.


Going on well, thank God he answered.
Gideon is sitting up in bed, and has been talking
a bit, but not much, for the doctor says it would be
the worst thing he could do. And Robbie is pick-
ing up strength, but it 's slowly-slowly, poor
Robbie !"
"We must hope and pray, and use the best
means we can. God helps those who help them-
selves," said Howard.
But He helps those most who cannot help them-
selves, it seems to me," said Martin, when I think
of all that has happened during the past few days."
It really does seems so, sir," said Eric; and to
think that Mr. Digby, that you all thought was dead


497


------~-~I
--






DRIFTED INTO PORT.


and gone years ago, should have sailed in that same
ship along with my two brothers whom we had
given up as lost, and that all should come back
again together, and their ship drift into the very port
they started from I feel as if I could n't believe
it; I 'in sure I should n't if I read it in a book."
It is strange, very strange; yet there are stran-
ger things happening around us every day, Eric,
than any man could invent. But, tell me, has
Gideon yet spoken of Mr. Digby in his talk? "
Bless you, sir, he's talked of nothing else!
From what I can make out, Mr. Digby has been
the life and soul of the party, and that everybody
loved him you may guess from the fact that almost
the first question of every one that has come to,
has been about him. But I beg pardon for not
asking before, sir; how is Mr. Digby, to-night?
Better, we hope. Certainly better than he was
yesterday. He has not as yet shown any gleam
of consciousness, but he has been able to take
plenty of nourishment, and it is upon this that we
ground a good hope. But see, yonder comes the
doctor, and I hope he will report favorably of all."
Never could a medical man have shown a greater
interest in a patient than Dr. Henderson did in
Digby. He had heard portions of his strange story
from others of his patients who had been saved
from the ill-fated ship, and the loving solicitude of
all had drawn from him an answering tenderness.
"I shall stay with him to-night," said he, "if
you will allow me, for I anticipate a change in him
soon, and I am extremely anxious that at first he
should receive enough information to satisfy him,
and at the same time that he should have no clue
as to where he is or by whom he is surrounded.
After his intense excitement and the almost super-
human fatigue he has undergone,-for it was he
who was the last to give up, and then not until the
Hughsons were safe aboard the ship,-the least
shock might prove fatal. So, you go away and leave
me with him. But stay," added the doctor to Mr.
Morton, who had now joined them; "just now one
of the men gave me this book-a Bible-which he
found on the ship; and as it bears the name of
Howard Pemberton in the fly-leaf, I brought it with
me, and with especial interest, for, inclosed in the
cover, is a packet addressed to you, Mr. Morton."
Mr. Morton took the book with trembling hands,
and when he had reached his own room he sat
alone and read with deep emotion the strange story
of his son's life. It ran as follows :
Baffin's Bay.
I know not into whose hands this paper will fall, but it is my
earnest, perhaps dying entreaty that it may be placed in the hands
of my parents, my sister, Dr. Brier, or Howard Pemberton, all of
whose addresses will be found elsewhere.
I write this letter to the man whose name I bear and whom I have
most deeply wronged.
Much sorrow and anxiety, my dear father, must have resulted


from my cruel conduct, and I would confess, without a wish to con-
ceal one single fact, the sins which wrought such mischief and have
brought such strange punishments. I can only do so by telling the
story of how one sin led to another, until all culminated in that fear-
fll fraud, the pretense of death.
For the first year that I was at Blackrock school I strove with all
my strength to do and be what Dr. Brier and his kind, good wife
would wish. Their influence over me was kind and gentle and good.
I can never repay the debt of gratitude I owe them. But by degrees
I grew to hate the restraints of school, and I was drifting, drifting, I
knew not whither.
My best friends at school were Howard Pemberton and Martin
Venables. I loved them at the first with all the enthusiasm a boy
feels when he thinks he has found his ideal friends. They supplied to
me the lack of brothers; they were true, manly, high-minded friends.
But as soon as I began to drift away from the good I had ceased to
strive after, I loosened my hold on them.
It was about a year before I left Blackrock school when my aver-
sion to study and to all restraint became almost uncontrollable.
During my holidays I once fell in with a young man, James Williams,
who led a wild, reckless life. He had run away from home, had
crossed the seas, and had raised money in various ways, which en-
abled him to indulge freely his wild fancies. His yarns about the sea,
and the adventures he had met and dangers encountered, fired me
with a mania to follow a similar career. The constant reading by
stealth of pernicious books, of which smugglers and pirates were the
heroes, stimulated the desire, and undermined the principles in which
I had been educated; until, at length, when you informed me that I
was to study under Mr. Vickers for the law, I determined to run
away from school and seek my living by adventure. James Williams
fostered the resolve, and often urged me to it; but my great difficulty
was how to obtain money. By an accidental circumstance, Howard
Pemberton became aware of my passion for the sea, and he upbraided
me about it, kindly and honestly, but I could not brook it; my old
friendship with him ceased, and I grew to hate him.
About this time, the reception was given at Dr. Brier's of which
you have heard. But you have not heard, and never can know, what
that evening was to me. Satan seemed to have entered into me as
lie did into Judas.
I took the miniature and snuff-box from the cabinet in which they
were placed by Mrs. Brier, and resolved to cast the suspicion of the
theft upon Howard.
That night I placed the miniature in the hands of Williams, who
gave me twenty pounds for it, and the snuff-box I placed in the tick-
ing of Howard's bed.
Need I tell you all the catalogue of wrong? You can almost
guess the rest. Williams procured for me a suit of clothes which
would disguise me, and these were placed ready for me by arrange-
ment with him. The early morning was very cold, and as I intended
to travel far I thought I would take my great coat. In the hurry
and excitement of the moment, I mistook Howard's for mine.
I left my clothes upon the river bank, and that afternoon I set sail
for America.
In America I spent a few months, the remembrance of which I
would gladly blot from my memory. Money came to me fast from
gambling, and as quickly went. All the time I was restless, fearful,
ill at ease and sick at heart. I had never heard one single word of
how my disappearance might have afflicted those I left behind. I
knew not whether you really thought me dead, or whether my secret
had oozed out. At length I determined, with tears of penitence, to
return, to confess all, to purchase back the miniature from Williams
with money I had won. And, with this resolve, I started back to
England. On arriving, I took up a newspaper, and you may judge
the terror I felt as I read the account of Williams's awful death with
the miniature upon him. It staggered me, but it did not melt my
heart. I interpreted it that my plans were frustrated, as I found that
Dr. Brier had obtained possession of the miniature. I dared not re-
main in the country, for fear of discovery and of identification with
the crime of Williams; but I could not tear myself away until I had
once more visited the neighborhood of the dear old school-house.
I cannot think without emotion of that moonlight night when I
lay down beside the marble pillar which tender hearts bad caused to
be placed there, "In loving memory of D. M." Oh, my father, how
true it is that the way of transgressors is hard! I thought my
heart would break as I lay there on the cold earth and wept the
bitterest tears I ever shed.


[MAY,







DRIFTED I


If I could but have caught sight of Dr. Brier, or felt the motherly
touch of Mrs. Brier's hand upon my shoulder,-if I could but have
heard the ring of Howard's or Martin's voice in the play-ground, I
felt as if the evil within me would have taken flight and I should
have risen up a regenerated man.
But I was alone. Dead dead And I went away with my heart
cold and sad, and my future all dawk and purposeless.
A twelvemonth ago I fell in with some Shetlanders who were about
to start on a whaling cruise, and, as the expedition promised plenty
of adventure and excitement, I joined them.
Three months after we left Shetland, we were fast in the ice. For
nine months and more we have been almost starving, and have had
to endure bodily suffering in other respects of a most severe kind.
I have written the foregoing part of my storyat intervals, and I
would now bring it to a conclusion, for the ice is breaking up, and we
have before us our last chance.
Literature has been very scarce on board, and I had only brought
one book with me. It was Howard Pemberton's Bible. I found it
in the coat I had taken accidentally on the morning I left Blackrock
school, and I never parted with it, hoping I might be able to restore
it some day, for I found it was a sacred relic given to him by his
father, and bearing in its cover his portrait and a copy of the dying
words he spoke to Howard.
That book became my friend, and it led me to recognize a friend
in its Divine author. I had striven in vain to save myself from myself.
This book pointed me the way. I should never have read it, how-
ever, if it had not been for the kind sympathy of our captain. A
nobler man, or a truer Christian, I never met.
But our captain died, and my strength gradually failed from priva-
tion. I cannot tell you here all that happened, but I must refer you
to a diary which I have daily kept posted, and that will explain more
fully what I am unable to write now.
We are free from the ice at last, and are drifting we know not
whither! My strength is well-nigh gone. Not a man on board can
move a hand to touch a sail. Perhaps these will be the last words I
shall ever write.
I crave from you, my dear father, and from all whom I have
wronged, forgiveness for the sorrow, distress, and injury I have
wrought. Return the Bible, please, if it ever comes into your posses-
sion, to Howard, and tell him how I thank God for its blessed teach-
ings.
Land is in sight; we fancy it must be the Orkneys. A storm is
gathering. Nine men lie dead upon the deck. There appears to be
certain death for us all.

As Mr. Morton finished reading the letter, he
paced the room to and fro, while the hot tears fell
freely down his face; and his heart was full of
thanksgiving and praise as he cried, "This, my
son, was dead and is alive again ; he was lost and
is found."
CHAPTER XII.
A FAREWELL.
IT was a fortnight before Digby was well enough
to leave his room, and then he had to be carried in
the strong arms of Howard and Martin. So weak
-so utterly weak was he-that the strong man had
become as a little babe, and Dr. Henderson some-
times feared that he would never know health
again.
But he was bright and cheerful and happy. The
joy he experienced in finding so many dear ones
around him, the relief in having unburdened his
mind, and being assured of a full and complete
forgiveness; the feeling of gratitude for the glad
changes which had come to his father and mother,
and for his own happy deliverance from death,


NTO PORT. 499


made him think and talk so cheerily, that Ethel's
heart rejoiced as she found in the long-lost one
more than her old ideal Digby.
Howard and Martin had exceeded the time of
their leave from business duties, but, in the circum-
stances of the case, they had been allowed longer
furlough, and were now waiting for the time when
Digby would be well enough to travel, so that they
might superintend his journey home.
And the last day of the Shetland visit came.
It was with a feeling of sadness that our friends
went round on the afternoon of that day to call
upon the cottagers and leave their little presents
and say farewell.
Not the least memorable event of the visit, was
the gathering of the villagers in the large room of
the cottage, where our friends had taken up their
abode. It was the last night in Shetland, and it
had been Digby's earnest wish that, if he could bear
it, the Hughsons and their friends, and as many
as were saved from the death-stricken ship, should
meet together to say farewell. Early in the evening,
the villagers, in their best Sunday clothes, began to
assemble, and, before very long, the room and the
passage-way and the stair-way were crowded.
Dr. Henderson was there, too, and he reminded
the folks present that time was flying, and that the
strength of his patients must not be taxed too far.
Then Mr. Morton rose. His face was very pale,
and at first his voice was tremulous.
Good people all," he said, a kind Providence
brought me and mine to this friendly island, and
here we have seen and heard strange and happy
things. Curious circumstances have brought us all
together; and, in greater or less degree, we have
been dependent upon one another; we have shared
suspense, joy and anxiety together; and we have
received mercies from the Great Father of us all
more than we can trust our lips to tell. You, my
good sir," pointing to old Mr. Hughson, "have
received from the jaws of death two of your sons.
Heaven bless them You," pointing to a woman,
once more rest in the love of a husband; you,
my little ones, are rejoicing in a father's return;
and I-I have received safe and sound, my only
son, whom I had long mourned as dead. Let us
thank God, all of us."
A fervent amen was uttered as if by one voice.
After this, with chat and with song, time stole
away, and the happy meeting would have been
continued for an indefinite time, if Dr. Henderson
had not announced it as his opinion that it would
be neither wise nor kind to prolong it. And so
with benedictions upon one another the company
separated, and the next morning our friends left
the island.
And now my story is done. I need only tell you







JOHNNY S LOST BALL.


that, after a long time, Digby regained his strength; Ethel not only rejoiced, but shared in their pros-
that he never studied law with Mr. Vickers; but, perity; for, of course, these two young men could
having been started in business by his father, be- find no better wives than these two young women.
came a successful merchant, with ships of his own, But I could not even begin to tell you of the hap-
on which several of the Hughson brothers found piness and thankfulness that filled the heart of every
happy and profitable positions. Howard and Mar- person in this story, when thought arose of that
tin grew to be prosperous men, and Madeleine and vessel which was so mercifully drifted into port.
THE END.




'. .--`'


S"---,-- .," -- 7--- -_ -- -- '-_- -- - . -


JOHNNY'S LOST BALL.

BY LLOYD WYMAN.


JOHNNY had a silver dollar.
Johnny also had a good friend in the school-
master, who, in various ways, had so interested the
boy in natural philosophy that he desired of all
things to possess a book on the subject, that he
might study for himself.
Therefore, on the very first spare afternoon
Johnny had, he rolled up his silver dollar in many
folds of paper, tucked it snugly away in a lonesome
corner of an old castaway pocket-book, and started
for the village book-store; but, when he found the
many nicely bound volumes too dear for his pocket,
he choked, and nearly cried for disappointment.
Hold on !" said the book-seller, as he slipped
his lead-pencil behind his ear, and stepped briskly
to a little shelf of rusty-looking books.
"Here are some second-hand copies of Com-
stock, Parker and Steele, any of which you can
have for seventy-five cents,-have your pick for six
shillings. Comstock and Parker are in the best
repair, and are finer print; but for me, give me
Steele In buying second-hand books, always
choose the banged-up fellows. Comstock and
Parker tell everything that everybody knows or
guesses. Steele biles his 'n down. But do just as
you 've a mind to ; it wont make a bit o' difference
to me one way or the other."
Johnny took Steele, handed over his dollar, and
received twenty-five cents in change.
Before the money was fairly stowed away in his
wallet his eye fell upon a beautiful rubber ball,
painted in various brilliant colors, which lay in the


show-case. The book-seller tossed it out upon
the clean-swept floor, and up it bounded to the
ceiling.
The last of the lot," said he; filled with air;
that's why it bounces so; been selling at thirty
cents; will close this out at twenty-five; every boy
ought to have one; children cry for 'em; just the
thing for 'hand-ball,'-what d' y' say?"
I'll take it," said Johnny; and he took his book
and ball and hurried home, dead broke finan-
cially, but happy, nevertheless.
Being open-hearted, he told his folks about his
purchase, and they were inclined to find fault with
him, though I do not know why. He seemed
never to tire of his book and ball, but would change
from one to the other, and for some days was as
happy as a king is supposed to be.
Then came his bad luck.
He was tossing his ball upon the roof of the
house, and catching it as it came down; but by
and by it did not come down-it bounded into the
tin eave-trough and rolled slowly along till it came
to the big pipe that led to the cistern, and into this
it dropped, and went whirring down, and stopped
somewhere with a faint plash.
For once in his life, Johnny felt as if the world
had slipped from under him.
For a few minutes he was bewildered; then came
the joyful assurance that his Steele would help
him out of his trouble, and if Steele could n't,
there was the school-master.
The first thing he did was to lift the cover off


[MAY,


500






JOHNNY'S LOST BALL.


the cistern, though he knew well enough the ball
was in the pipe, as he well remembered that it ran
nearly to the bottom of the cistern and then made
a sharp bend upward, so that the water might n't
wear the cement," the mason told him.
He found the water quite low, but not low
enough to show the mouth of the pipe. Of course,
there was no ball in sight. He closed the cistern
with a groan, and got out his new book on natural
philosophy. First he glanced at optics; but that
did not help him to see his way; then at hydro-
statics and hydraulics.
It was of no use; nothing seemed to hit the
case. Then he gave it up, put his book away,
and went to consult the school-master. Johnny
found him among his books, and told him all
about it.
Have you tried to fish it out with a hook and
line?"
Johnny's face brightened. No, sir, I never
thought of that."
All right; you could n't do it. Besides, if you
could, it wouldn't be scientific," said the school-
master. Now, go home, take a ten-foot pole,
and measure the distance from the caves to the
water in the cistern, then find the diameter of the
pipe, and on my way to school to-morrow morning
I will tell you the three things necessary for recover-
ing your ball."
Johnny fairly flew home, got a pole, measured
the distance from caves to water and found it to be
twelve feet; measured the pipe and found it to be
two inches and one-half. Then he put away the
pole, did his chores, ate a hearty supper, and went
to bed.
He was up bright and early next morning, and
got quickly through his chores, so that when the
school-master stopped, on his way to school, he
was ready to see about the ball.
Good morning, Johnny! Glad to see you on
hand. How long's the pipe?"
Twelve feet, sir."
"Diameter?"
Two inches and a half, sir."
"Ah! 2y square multiplied by .0034, and that
product by twelve feet, which is -- "
144 inches," Johnny quickly suggested.
"Will give the contents of the pipe in gallons,"
added the schoolmaster. You're quick at figures,
tell me the answer."
Johnny groped among the odds and ends of his
jacket pocket for a minute, and then fished out a
stubby lead-pencil, much chewed at one end, and
picking up a piece of smooth board, ciphered away
swiftly and carefully a few moments.
"3.06 is what I make it, sir."
"Very well; we'll call that right; that would


be a little over a pailful-say a pailful and a half.
Now get a ladder to go up to the roof with."
Johnny brought one in a jiffy.
All right. Now, the three things necessary to
get back your ball are, a pailful and a half of water,
a plug, and pluck."
Johnny looked as if he did n't quite understand.
What sort of a plug, sir?" he asked.
Oh, this will do," answered the school-master,
picking up a pine stick and beginning to whittle
away vigorously. The plug was soon made. The
school-master lifted the plank cover from the cis-
tern, put the ladder down, and said to Johnny:
" Have you any pluck?"
Lots of it," Johnny told him.
"Well, then, take this plug and stick it into the
mouth of the pipe, snug."
Johnny took the plug, went down the ladder
into the cistern till he reached the water, and then
began feeling around for the pipe. By and by he
found it, and, inserting the plug in the opening,
pushed it down and screwed it firmly in place.
"All right!" he called out, and presently he
came up the ladder.
"Now let's have the water-in two pails," the
schoolmaster said, and he saw by Johnny's face
that le at last understood how the ball was to be
got out. Johnny ran to the barn, and soon came
back with two pails of water and a funnel.
But what's the funnel for?" asked the school-
master, as he drew the ladder from the cistern and
leaned it against the caves.
"To pour the water into the pipe," answered
Johnny, in a tone that showed that he thought he
had, for once, caught the school-master napping.
Ah, indeed so you always put the funnel in
when it rains ?"
Johnny blushed, and did not attempt any answer.
"Now mount the ladder, and I'll hand you the
water," said the school-master.
Johnny ran up the ladder, and, when the school-
master handed him the pails, he said nothing about
the funnel, but boldly dashed the water upon the
roof. When the flood began pouring into the
eave-trough and gurgling down the pipe, Johnny
fixed his eyes upon the hole through which his
ball had taken its unlucky leap, and stared with
anxious expectation. The gurgle in the pipe crept
steadily upward, the tone all the while growing
higher and clearer, till whish! came a dash of
water over the trough, nearly drenching the school-
master, while the ball bounded airily upon the
eaves for an instant, before Johnny caught it and
cried out:
Here she is !"
Put things in shape, Johnny; I must hurry to
the school-house," said the school-master, going.









THE KING AND THE HARD BREAD.


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THE KING AND THE HARD BREAD.


[MAY,


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THE KING AND THE HARD BREAD.




THE KING AND THE HARD BREAD.

BY J. L.


"WHEN you want a thing done well, do it your-
self," is an old saying, and a very good one; but it
is not always possible or desirable to carry out this
advice. Therefore it is sometimes better to adopt
an amendment to this proverb, and make it read
thus: "When you want a thing done well, do it
yourself, or see it done."
So thought Louis IX. of France, sometimes called
St. Louis, because he was considered to be rather
better than most people.
Among his good qualities was kindness to the
poor. He would go about, very plainly dressed,
and attended by two or three courtiers, and visit
poor people in their houses. He took an interest
in their personal affairs, and when they were very
needy, he would order bread and other food to be
supplied to them. Of course, this made him a
great favorite with the poorer classes of his subjects,
and they were glad not only to receive his bounty,
but also to talk with him and tell him about their
many troubles.
One day, when he was making one of his cus-
tomary rounds, an old woman, leaning on a cane,
and holding a loaf of bread in her hand, came out
of a door in a wall which led into a collection of
wretched dwellings.
As this old woman stood awaiting his approach,
the king could not help feeling a little surprised.
He did not often feel surprised at anything he saw
among these poor people. He had just been talk-
ing to a group of strong, hearty fellows, who pre-
ferred sitting lazily about wherever the) could find
a shelter from the rain and sun, and trusting in
chance charity for food and lodging, to working for
an honest living; but he was not surprised at them.
Such men have always existed, and probably always
will exist.
He had seen all sorts of strange things among
his poor people. He had seen some who seemed
to prefer to be poor ; he had seen others who
had been rich, but who appeared to be happier
now than when they had plenty of money,-and
perhaps plenty of anxiety with it; he had seen
others who were poor and did not know it; but
this was the first time that he had ever seen any
one of them offer him bread or anything else to
eat. No wonder he was surprised when this old
woman held out to him the loaf of bread!


She did not wait for him to ask her what she
meant, but immediately commenced to explain.
She told him that she and her sick old husband
were among those to whom he had ordered food to
be furnished, but that for some time all that his
agents had given them was bread such as the loaf
in her hand; bread so hard that it was almost
impossible for old people to eat it, and yet they
must eat it or starve.
The king listened with attention to her story,
and then he took the loaf in his hands, and broke
off a small piece of it.
It is rather hard bread," he said, thoughtfully,
while his attendants bent over to look at it, as if it
were a matter of the greatest interest to them,
although it is probable that they did not care a
snap of their fingers whether or not the old woman
ever had any bread.
Yes," said the king, it is hard bread." And
then he stood thinking about it. The old woman
thought he was thinking of the trouble she and her
husband had in eating it, but she was very much
mistaken.
He was thinking that he had ordered that these
people be well fed ; that he had supplied the money
to buy them good and nourishing food. Now, if
his poor pensioners received nothing but dry bread,
and very stale, hard bread at that, while he paid
for good food for them, somebody must be making
money out of him, to whom he had no idea of
being charitable in this way.
Therefore he thought that if he wanted a thing
well done, he must do it himself, or see it done.
In this case he determined to see it done.
He went into the old woman's house, and he
talked to her sick husband and herself, and ex-
amined into their condition. The old people
thought he was very good to say so much about
their hard fare, and so he was ; but if they could
have heard what he said afterward to his dishonest
agents, when he went home to his palace, they
might have been surprised to know what an im-
portant thing a piece of hard bread may sometimes
become.
And they might have thought, too, that it was a
good thing for them, as well as for other poor
people, that their bread had been so very hard that
they were forced to complain of it to the king.






FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS.


DISCONTENTED POLLY.

POLLY ought to have been a very happy little girl, but she was not,
because she had n't a doll. She had everything else: a beautiful kitchen,
a stove with everything to use on it, some pretty china dishes, a table to
put them on, and a neat little wicker chair to match the table.
Only a little while ago she had three lovely dolls; but there was
another D to Polly's name-Destructive Polly; and now there was not
a bit of a dolly left, and mamma had determined to let her wait till she
wanted one so very much that when it did come she would be sure to
take care of it. But Aunt Alice said, one day, "That child shall have
a doll to-morrow." And sure enough the next morning, in the little
wicker chair, Polly found the most beautiful doll she had ever seen.
It had fluffy, golden hair, and bright blue eyes, and a dress just
like Polly's best one with puffed sleeves. It could say "papa" and
"mamma" quite plainly, and could move its eyes.
Of course, the first thing to be done was to find a name for the new
treasure, and that made Polly discontented again. She wanted to call it
after herself, but she said, "Polly is such an every-day name, it would
never do; my doll must have a 'company' name." So she called her doll
"Rosalinda."
The next day, mamma said there might be a party in honor of the new
doll; so Polly carried Rosalinda into the play-room, put her in the little
chair, and began to get ready for the party. Rosalinda looked as though
she would like to help; so Polly filled one of her prettiest cups with
milk, and put it in the dolly's lap, while she went out for three lumps
of sugar.
Just then a dreadful thing happened. Puss, who had been hidden
under a chair, came out, jumped to Rosalinda's lap, and began to drink
the milk as fast as he could. Before it was half gone he heard Polly
coming, so he jumped down again in a hurry, and out of the window.
But one hind paw caught the cup by the handle, spilled the milk on dolly's
dress, dashed the cup to the floor, and broke it all to bits!
When Polly came in and saw this, what do you think she did ? She
just looked at Rosalinda a moment, then she took her out of the chair
and shook her-shook her so hard, and sat her down again with such a
bounce that the pretty blue eyes shut up tight, and would n't come open.
Polly did n't mind that at first. She said, Yes! you'd better shut






FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS.


your eyes, you naughty thing! Don't tell me it was 'a accidence.' You
did it yourself, I know, and I don't love you one bit. You don't look fit
to be seen, and the party will be here before I' m ready. Oh, dear! just
open your eyes, and see what you've done."
But poor Rosalinda's eyes would n't open, and the more Polly shook
her, the tighter shut they -stayed, till she ran, crying, to mamma, to ask
for help. Mamma had seen it all; so now she took Polly and Rosalinda
both on her lap, and gave what Polly called "a little preach."


"JUST OPEN YOUR EYES, AND SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE."
It did her good, real good, and at last she said: "Dear mamma, if
Rosalinda will only open her eyes once more and look at me, I believe
I will never be so naughty again."
So mamma found a way to open the pretty blue eyes, and Polly
kissed them both, and then kissed mamma for helping her.
By the time the party came, everything was-ready. Polly was very
good, and let the girls play with her beautiful Rosalinda the whole time.
I do not know how long the good will last. I hope till every one forgets
to call her Discontented Polly, and learns to call her Darling Polly instead.







JACK- IN -TTHE-PULPIT.


d *, s .. _- _,i B S*,, '' '


S J a K- I 11-1 -I' U Li-' T.

WELL, my dears, spring is here at last, and it
is very pleasant to see the buds and flowers again.
I begin to hear the voices of the children more
often, too; and now and then I catch a glimpse
of bright faces and new dresses.
By the way, talking of dresses puts me in mind
of a paragram that came the other day, about
TRIMMINGS FOR COWS.
SOMETHING quite new to you, I dare say, for
which of you ever heard of trimming cows with
their own horns and ears ? How should you like
to see a cow with her ears-poor thing !-cut to
the shape of a leaf with notched edges, and horns
trained in some queer shape, twisted into curls, or
divided into four, with two meeting overhead, and
two turned down toward the ground ? It would be
a dreadful sight to me, I am sure ; but the Africans
admire such things. They consider this trimming
of cows a sort of fine art. You don't see how they
manage the horns ? Well, they begin when the
horns are young; divide each into two, or more,
and gradually train them, while growing, in any
way they choose. Of course it must hurt the
poor cows, and take a great deal of time ; but the
people who train cows' horns have not very tender
feelings, and they are richer in spare time than in
anything else. Besides, they do not have to trim
their own clothes much-they 're savages.
FEET AND WINGS.
I HAVE been told that flies have suckers on their
feet, and climb up window-panes by using them,
much as boys lift smooth stones with a piece of
soaked leather and a string. Is this so, little folks ?
By the way, while you are thinking of flies, I
once heard some schoolma'ams (I 'm sure our little
one was not among them) disputing about the num-
ber of wings that a house-fly ought to have. And
they said, though it's hard to believe, that over the


lit
!:
1-


506


[MAY,


door of the Masonic Temple at Boston there are
bees, cut in the stone, each with only wings enough
for a fly !
Perhaps the sculptor had been reading Virgil
before carving those bees, for, as I 've heard, that
ancient poet in one of his writings made a mis-
take as to the number of a bee's wings.
CETUS, NOT CYGNUS.
ONE of my sharp eyed chicks, S. E. S., of Canan-
daigua, sends word that the-star Mira, of which I
told you last month, is in the star-group Cetus (the
Whale), not in Cygnus (the Swan). S. E. S. is
right, I find, and I 'm much obliged to her.

PRSVRYPRFCTMN
VRKPTHSPRCPTSTN.
DEACON GREEN says that these letters were
found on a wall in a church in Wales, painted, like
a text, above an inscription of the ten command-
ments.
Some of you may have seen it before, he thinks;
but, if not, it will be good fun for you to find out
what it means.' He adds that there is but one
letter of the alphabet wanting, to make sense; this
is used over and over, and, if you put it into the
right places, the text will turn into a rhymed
couplet.
A REMEDY FOR HARD TIMES.
I HAVE a message from a bird on the Sea Islands
off the coast of South Carolina.
Here," says my friend, I lately found a rem-
edy for hard times. Looking for food one day, I
came close to the home of a silk-spider who was
about to make a new web. Now, what do you
think I saw him doing? Why, he was eating up
the old web, so as to turn it into thread again, and
use it a second time Another curious thing that
I found out about this economical old fellow is that,
although he has a great many eyes, he can see only
just well eilough to tell light from darkness."
Now, what in the world can be the use of that
spider's eyes, I'd like to know, if he can't see the
things around him ?
A QUEER CHURN.
New Haven, Conn.
DEAR JACK: Last 3ear in April you gave us a picture of a very
sniall doll-churn that a little 1 b-1 -.- -.1 T thought it was very
cute. But I read the other i . I I .. i quite as odd. Itis
simply the skin of a goat, hung by a rope from the roof. It is used in
Persia, and, when they want to churn, they fill the goat-skin with
milk, and swing it forward and backward until the butter comes.
The children do the swinging, and I think it must be better fun than
turning a crank or working a plunger.-Yours affectionately, O. T.
CATS IN SPAIN.
CATS have a nice time in Spain, I hear. No
dismal moonlight prowlings over fences and back
sheds for them They have the roofs of the whole
country for their walks, and need never touch
the ground unless they choose. I'll tell you why.
Grain is stored in the attics of Spain, because they
are too hot for anything else. But rats and mice
delight in attics, as well as in grain. So each
owner cuts a small door from the roof, big enough
for puss, and any homeless cat is welcome to her
warm home, in return for which she keeps away








JACK-IN THE- PULPIT


rats. In a sudden rain it must be funny to see
dozens of cats scampering over the roofs to their
homes among the grain-bags.

"SINCERE" STATUES.
Cambridge, Mass.
DEAR LITTLE SCHOOLMA'AM: In ST. NICHOLAS for December,
1877, Jack-in-the-Pulpit says thht "sincere" is made of the words
sie-cer', nli.._ "h-"ney without wax." I have been told that it
refers also rI '.-. who, when they found a crack in a statue,
would sometimes fill the flaw with wax ; and that hence a "sincere "
statue, one "without wax," would have no flaw, but be a true and
honest statue.
I have not been able to find any authority for this, otherwise I
should have written sooner.-Yours sincerely, t". B. J.


and he does not get rid of it in a hurry. I'm told
that it takes only a few of these cones to keep off a
whole flock of crows. They are afraid of making
themselves ridiculous, I suppose.

ANCIENTS AND MODERNS.
Now then, my dears, here's a capital chance to
show your knowledge of history. Who can answer
this question ?
Boston, Mass.
DEAR JACK: Will you please ask some of your chicks to tell me
when the ancients left off, and the moderns began ?-and you will
greatly oblige F.


iT-"


it


~- -- -~
- ~ ~--t *
..' s 1' .


L





1']


FOOLS'-CAPS FOR CROWS.


FOOLS'-CAPS FOR CROWS.
MY acquaintances the crows are very fond of
corn, and have a way of picking it out of the
ground with their bills just after it has been planted.
So the farmers try all sorts of plans to keep them
away. One of these plans is shown in the picture.
Paper cones are set point downward in the
ground, and baited with a few corn kernels ; then
some bird-lime is smeared around the insides.
When a crow reaches down for the corn, the paper
cone sticks to him, looking rather like a fool's-cap,


LUMBER AND TIMBER, AGAIN.
THE Little Schoolma'am says that "timber"
generally means felled trees," but is used some-
times to describe trees that are yet standing and
growing; "lumber" means timber that has been
made ready for use, by sawing, splitting, and so
forth.
E. M. Ferguson, J. Harry Townsend, Lillie Stone,
J. Dutton Steele, Jr., and X. Y. Z. all sent correct
answers; but Virginia Waldo, G. V. D. F., and
" Max" were only almost right in their replies.


,~~~'~8~SlgB ~A;


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THE LETTER-BOX.





THE LETTER-BOX.


THE answers to Mr. Cranch's poetical charades, published on
page 406 of the April number, are as follows: I., Carpet, car-pet.
II., Bargain, bar-gain. IlI., Pic-nic, pick-Nick. IV., Nightmare,
night-mare.


A LARGE number of correspondents kindly point out that the poem
entitled "The Nightingale's Mistake," printed in the March "Letter-
Box," is also called The Singing-Lesson," and was written by Jean
Ingelow.
Clayton, Iowa.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I thought I would write to you to tell you
about our little town of Clayton. It is a beautiful little place, of about
three hundred and eighty inhabitants, situated on the Mississippi
River. There are two large 'i ......: ,..1 o saw-mills, and a large
hoop factory here, where all I ... and hoops are manu-
factured by machinery. First, the poles are sawed into certain
lengths ; then they are taken to the splitters, to be split. They are
then taken to the planners. After going . .: .his process, they are
bunched into bunches of fifty each. I I. .. are ready for ship-
ment. They are made of hickory, white oak, and birch.
It is very pleasant to take a boat-ride on a summer eve, with the
banks on either side of ou covered with long green grass, and flowers
of nearly all descriptions bending down into the water, while in the
woods all kinds of birds are chittering and chattering, and the ducks
are quacking around you,-all of which makes it very pleasant.--Your
constant reader, H. R.

Baltimore, Md.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I would like to' .. 1 ', .. the wife
of General George Washington is called i. I i..,, .. ? I do
not think that we have ever had any lords or ladies in our country;
so if you know the reason why, I would like to know. E. AM.
Can any of our boys and girls answer this question ?

Somerville, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: As I ish to contribute a little to tihe
"Letter-Box," I will send you a little poem written by my sister
Allie when she was nine years old :

OUR BABY.
Little Bertha is my sister,
And she is two years old,-
A cunning little darling,
Whom I love to hold.

You ask her whom she loves best,
And she'll say "Papa Lou."
You ask her whom she loves next,
And p'r'aps she will say You."

You ask her what her name is,
And she'll say Bertie Lou."
But then, she's sometimes naughty,
And sometimes so are you.

Little Bertha is my sister,
And she's as cunning as she can be,
With a dimple in each cheek,
And a dimple in each knee.

And I guess most people love her,
For she's as cunning as she can be;
But then, sometimes she is naughty,
And that's the way with you and me.

My darling little sister
Always sleeps at night with me;
And, as I said before,
She's as cunning as she can le. A. C. H.

Roseville, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAs: W. I1. ...1., perhaps you would like to
hear about our pet sparrow I i We have had him since last
July, and he is just as cunning as he can be. He was so young at
first, lie could not fly, and slept in a little box, with a piece of flannel
over him : but now he roosts on a nail in the sitting-room bay-window.
We do not keep him in a cage, but he goes all over the house, and
does just as he pleases. He has had plenty of chances to fly out, but
seems to be happy and contented, and makes himself perfectly at
home. When we are eating, he helps himself to anything he wants,


and is not a bit bashful. He loves honey, and will eat all le wants,
and then wipe his bill on any one's dress or on the table-cloth. He
will jump on papa's whiskers, and pull mammna's hair-pins out of her
hair, steal her needle, and do many other mischievous things. He
has chosen one of the gas-globes for a nesting-place, and carries bits
ofcloth, strings, or any such thing that he can find, and puts them
there. He tries to sing, and has learned several of the canary's
notes. We catch himn sometimes, and put him under a hat, to tease
him. He then gets angry, pecks the hat, and scolds at the top of his
voice. We have a rabbit and 7in. ri' f o.; but if they come
into the room where Bob is, he .' ii i r..... and peck them till
they run out. Every one who sees him thinks he is a wonderful bird,
and we should feel very sorry if anything should happen to him.-
Yours truly, ELLA AND EDWIN H.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I have a little sister named Pet, because we
love her so. A few days ago our papa had a narrow escape from
being burned, and Pet asked me if I thanked God for taking care of
him. I said, "Yes." "And did God say, 'You're welcome'?"
asked Pet.
Now, don't you think that was a funny idea ?-Your affectionate
reader, R. L. P.


GULLIVER'S TRAVELS AND THE MOONS OF MARS -A correspond-
ent writes that in Gulliver's "Voyage to Iaputa," an imaginary flying
island, Dean Swift, the author, describes some over-wise philosophers,
and, among other things, says:

They have likewise discovered two lesser stars, or satellites, which
revolve about Mars; whereof the innermost is distant from the center
of the ,:..... exactly three of his diameters, and the outer-
most, I .' revolves in the space of ten hours, and the
latter in twenty-one and a half; so that the squares of their periodical
times are very nearly in proportion with the cubes of their distance
from the center of Mars."

Now, these two satellites were not discovered really until August
x6th, 1877, but Dean Swift's book appeared in 1726, more than one
hundred and fifty years before But, although the Dean's guess-
work is not exactly correct, he comes very near the truth when lie
states the time taken by each moon in going around the primary.
This you will see by comparing his words with the following letter,
which we have received from Professor Asaph Hall, the actual dis-
coverer of the moons :
Naval Observatory, Washington, D. C.,
March 4th, 1878.
EDITOR ST. NICHOLAS : The periods (of revolution) of the satel-
lites of Mars are as follows,-Deimus being the outer satellite, and
Phobus the inner one :
Period of Deimus, 30 hours, 18 minutes, o seconds.
S" Phobus, 7 39 16 '
These values are very nearly correct, and will be changed in the
final calculation only a few seconds, if at all.-Yours truly,
A HALL.


The following are extracts from the letters of a young girl now
traveling in Europe:
Berlin, 1877.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We were in the Auer Cathedral, Munich, look-
ing down the long nave, when troops of little children, boys and girls,
each with a little knapsack strapped between the shoulders, leaving
the hands and arms free for plav, came hastening in by twos and
threes, till the whole church seemed full. They all knelt down,
whispered a few words of prayer, and remained for a brief space,
silent and motionless, bowed down in devotion; then they quietly
arose and went out. I shall not soon forget Auer Cathedral with its
little worshipers."
We have been settled at Berlin for a month. Being the residence
of the Emperor and Court, it is very gay with balls, theaters, etc.,
and the streets are bright and lively with fine uniforms, prancing
horses, and carriages full of richly dressed ladies, their escorts riding
on horseback at the side. It presents a lively contrast with Munich
in these respects, but, as to sunlight, itis a gloomy place. Thus far
we have had only four pleasant days, and on those the sun set
between three and four in the afternoon. Some days we thought it
did not rise at all! We realize now, for the first time, how far north
Germany is.
We improved one of our p ... T 1 trip to Potsdam, where
is the summer palace of the : ...: I I ... Here are the rooms
of Frederick tie Great, just as he arranged them. His library is


[MAY,








THE LETTER-BOX.


chiefly of French books, and fills the shelves, which are everywhere,
from floor to ceiling-upon the doors, even, so that, when they are
shut, one feels imprisoned in books !
At the opposite end of the palace are the rooms once occupied by
Voltaire. The walls are covered with painted wood carvings of cats,
dogs, parrots, and peacocks, which Frederick caused to be placed
there after his quarrel with Voltaire, to express his opinion of the
Frenchman's traits of character.
Directly under the walls of the palace stands an idle windmill, now
owned by the Emperor. The noise of this windmill used to annoy
the queen, so Frederick sent for the miller and said to him :
"We two cannot live so near each other. One of us must buy the
property of the other. Now, will you buy my palace ? "
"But, my liege, I have not the money," replied the miller.
Then I must buy your mill," said the 1,in-
You also have not money enough; I i, .. sell," was the mil-
ler's reply.
When the king hinted his power to take possession by force, the
sturdy miller said he could and would sue the king.
Well," said the monarch, "since you have so high an opinion of
the justice to be found in my courts of law, I will not molest you."
So the windmill continued to creak and whirr in the ears of the
royal family for a long time. ADA.


HERBERT J.-In answer to your request, we give a copy of the
poem entitled "The Little Boy who Went Out to Swim," published
first in ST. NICHOLAS for September, 1874. Several of our readers
have asked to see the poem printed, without its pictures, in the
" Letter-Box," as the interweaving of the illustrations with the text,
as they first appeared, hindered the meaning and beauty of the verses
from being fully understood.

THE LITTLE BOY WHO WENT OUT TO SWIM.
BY HENRY HOWLAND.
A little boy went out to swim,
One pleasant day in June,
And the fish all came to talk to him,
That summer afternoon.

Come down, dear little boy," they said,
And let us show to you
The homes of fish, merman and maid,
Under the waters blue.
We'II show you where the naiads sleep,
And where the tritons dwell;
The treasures of the unknown deep,
The coral and the shell.

The siren's song shall charm your ears,
And lull you into rest;
No monster shall arouse your fears,
Or agitate your breast."

The little boy was glad to go;
And all the company
Of fish escorted him below,--
A pageant brave to see!

The pilot-fish swam on ahead,
The shark was at his heels;
The dolphin a procession led
Of porpoise, whale, and eels.

The trout, all brave in red and gold,
Many a caper cut;
And after them came crowds untold
Of cod and halibut.

The blue-fish with the black-fish swam;
Who knows the joy each felt?
The perch was escort to the clam,
The oyster to the smelt.

The muscalonge, from northern lake,
That leaps the harbor bar,
Swam closely in the sturgeon's wake,
Famous for caviar!

The haddock floated side by side
With carp from foreign shore,
And with them, through the seething tide,
Went scollops by the score.

The sword-fish, like a soldier brave,
His saber flashing bare,
Went o'er the swelling ocean wave,
With bold and marital air.


The jelly-fish went trembling down;
The star-fish mildly beamed;
And through the waves, like diamonds thrown,
The sun-fish glanced and gleamed.

The sea-bass, black-bass, pike and dace
Went dashing on like mad;
The sheep's-head, with his lamb-like face,
Swam by the graceful shad.

The pickerel leaped and danced along;
The frog-fish puffed and blew;
The herring in a countless throng
Swam by, a merry crew.

The turtles sailed a Dutch-built fleet,
On port and starboard tack,
While through their ranks, with caution meet,
Darted the stickleback.

The shrimp and lobster clawed along
With others of their kin,
And in their company a throng
Of lively terrapin.

The bull-pouts, dressed in black and drab,
With horns and visage grim,
Preceded the m'-n't.-r,;n crab;
The macker.i 1 i. 1 him.

Sea-spiders, in their coats of mail;
Shiners, with silver vest;
White-fish and weak-fish at their tail,
Swam on with all the rest.

The royal turbot, true and tried,
Subject of England's queen,
Sailed on in regal pomp and pride,
With whitebait and sardine.

The knightly salmon, king of fish,
Without reproach or fear,
The noblest fish a man could wish,
Came bringing up the rear.

And thus they reached the mermaid's cave,
Who, with a heart-felt joy,
To her bright home beneath the wave,
Welcomed the little boy !


HERE is a letter which we print just as it was written by the little
one who sent it to us:
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS I send you a little story to put in the letter
Box.
Once there was a little Boy His Name was Harry He lived with
His Mother in a humble little Cottage) His Mothers Name was
Mrs Jones she was a Widow) she and Harry lived all alone) one
day Harry came Home from school and faced the Doctor at the Door
young man said the Dr to the Boy your Mother is very sick) she was
doing what you ought to of done for her) what is that sir said Harry
hoping Wood Bringing in Coal and all such work as that) she
strained her self and is very ill) poor Harry hung down His head for
His M other had asked Him to chop the wood this Morning when He
was mending his Ball) He said I will be there in a moment Mother)
and like all Boy He forgot) oh how poor Harry felt When He
thought of this) but Harry took good care of His Mother ever after)
a Friend of Harries got Him a good Situation and Made a man of
Him and He always did what His Mother asked Him) ever after
Harry said to the Dr one day) Dr I can take care of Mother now
and I always will
So we hope Harry will take care of His Widow Mother all the)
rest of His days) M. J. W.


Here is a nice letter that a little girl wrote to her mother nearly
thirty-three years ago. The little girl was away from her town home
on a visit to the country for the sake of her health; and all that she
wrote in the letter was true.
Mr. McDonald's, October ist, 1I45.
MY DEAR MOTHER: I wish my arms were long enough to reach
two miles, I want to give you a good hug, I am so glad you let me
come out here. I was a little bit afraid last night, the horse was so
high, and it was so dark. I never rode on a horse in the dark before,
you know. It was so dark in the woods I could not see anything,
but my eyes would stay so wide open they hurt me. I held as tight
to Mr. George as I could; I .i ri .. i some big thing was just
going to snatch me off the h .i i.. time; my fingers felt like
they were full of pins when I let go. Everything does taste so good


509








THIE RIDDLE-BOX.


out here, and the air is so clean. I stretched out my arms to it this
morning, it felt so good. We have a play-house on the rocks; it has
two fire-places. They are made out of flat stones, and inside of the
big stones we set up two smaller stones, and lay a flat one across,
and there ... ... We are going to have a party to-night,
and have .... .,. -1 getting ready. All the good things
are cooked, waiting till night, when Mac will be home. We have
three splendid 1.1 .. .. and three eggs roasted in the ashes, but
we have only t\ ,. could only find two blacking-box lids, and
as these are our pie-pans, we have only two pies. We washed and
scoured the black all off, and they looked as nice as Sophia's tins,
which she will never let us touch at home. Our biscuits are not as
nice quite as hers, it was so hard to make them round, and our range
don't bake on both sides, so we had to turn them over to get both sides
cooked. Our things all look very good, and I am real hungry for
them, but you know it would not do to eat the party before Mac
comes. We have made wreaths of maple-leaves, to wear on our
heads to-night, one for \Iac, too. We thought it would do for a boy
to wear a wreath as long as there are so few of us, and the leaves are
so pretty; and as it is my birthday, I have some leaves basted all
around my blue dress, and it looks lovely.
I must stop now. Give my love to all. Take good care of Fideli,
and kiss all around for your loving daughter, JULIA.


Clifton, Iroquois County, Ill.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We want to tell the little boys and girls
that read ST. NICHOLAS, how a greedy rooster got caught in a trap.
We set the trap to catch rabbits, but did n't get any ; so the corn was
left, and the chickens were all walking around, and saw it, and tried
to get in to eat it; but the selfish old rooster drove them all away,
and crowded in himself, and began to eat the corn, when down came
the trap, and he was fast, but all the others were free.-Yours truly,
ARTHUR AND BROWNIE S.

South Boston, Mass.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I read the "Letter-Box" every month with
much interest, and have often seen puzzles and "such things" in it,
so I send you one, and hope that somebody nill find it out:
There was somebody born in England, on the ii.th of July, 1723.
He was the son of a clergyman, and his father was rather strict with
him. He made a drawing of his father's school with so much accu-
racy of outline, and in such correct perspective, that the grave clergy-
man could no longer maintain his severity. He saw that his son
would be a painter, and resolved to aid him. An anecdote related
of the artist runs thus: One day, a man called to see some of his pict-


tres, and asked him what he mixed his colors with. The painter
answered, "With brains, sir-with brains "-Yours,
FRANK R. M.

Columbia, S. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Our schoolma'am told us the otherday that
it is generally best to use short words instead of long words in
writing or speaking, and she gave us a verse to copy as a specimen.
She said that it was written by a nan who was perfect master of seven
languages, knew six others very well, was at home with another
eight, and read with a lexicon four more,-in all twenty-five different
languages; and although he could use tremendously long words when
lie chose, yet lie made a point of using short ones, even though they
were old and odd and not in common use. I send you a copy of
the verse, and I think he might have done much better if he had
used longer and more forcible words.-Yours truly, STELLA G.
"Think not that strength lies in the big round word,
Or that the brief and plain must needs be weak.
To whom can this be true that once has heard
The cry for help, the tongue that all men speak
When want or woe or fear is in the throat,
So that each word gasped forth is like a shriek
Pressed from the sore heart, or a strange wild note
Sung by some foe or fiend. There is a strength
Which dies if stretched too far or spun too fine,
Which has more height than depth, more breadth than length.
Let but this force of thought and speech be mine,
And he that will may take the sleek fat phrase,
Which glows and burns not, though it gleam and shine-
Light but not heat-a flash, but not a blaze!"
Long words are not always the most "forcible," Stella,-nor,
on the other hand, are they always to be avoided. Sometimes the
best word for expressing our meaning may be long to spell, but easy
to understand; and, again, a word may be short and yet fail to tell
exactly what we wish to say. The verse you copy is not a convincing
example of the power of short words, although it shows that much
may be done with them. Frequently a word is chosen for its rhyth-
mic quality-the pleasantness and ease with which its sound fits in
with the context-rather than because it is long or short. Mr. Long-
fellow's poem, "The Three Kings," published in the last Christmas
number of ST. NICHOLAS, is an example of a fine poem in simple
and rhythmical language, the study of which will improve your style
of writing more than any number of rules that we might give you.


THE RIDDLE-BOX.


HOUR-GLASS PUZZLE.

THE central letters, read downward, name a fashionable and beauti-
ful pet.
I. A large reptile. 2. Idolizing. 3. A foe. 4. To stain. 5. A con-
sonant. 6. A dandy. 7. To baffle. 8. Good news. 9. Capable of
being made better. G. H. w.

BLANK APOCOPES.

IN each of the following sentences, the second blank is to be filled
with the first syllable of the word used in the first blank.
T. From some we made a portion of our 2. The -
was extinguished when we made a for the door. 3. On the
second shelf of the you will find some -. It was of a
bright color, the -- that he had. c. D.

EASY BEHEADINGS.

i. BEHEAD to strike, and leave what all must do. 2. Behead what
children like, and leave a man's nickname. 3. Behead two pronouns,
and leave two other pronouns. 4. Behead an article of furniture, and
leave capable. 5. Behead a color, and leave a writing material.
6. Behead something belonging to flowers, and leave a coin. 7. Be-
head a part of the head, and leave what comes foom the clouds.
8. Behead another color, and leave a kind of stove. 9. Behead a
sport, and leave a girl's name. "-. Behead a cart of a ship, and leave
a tree. si. Behead a kind of bird. and leave disturbance, r2. Behead
an article of food, and leave a kind of tree. 13. Behead a table uten-
sil, and leave a bird. 14. Behead to frighten, and leave anxiety.
15. Behead a toilet article, and leave to crowd. A. D. L. AND S. w.


EASY TRIPLE ACROSTIC.

THE primals, read downward, name a bird; the centrals, an ani-
mal; the finals, an insect.
I. Disentangling. 2. Echo. 3. A city in a Western State. 4. Can't
be worse. ESOR.
FRAME PUZZLE.


MAKE the frame of four words of eight letters each, so that the
letter A shall come at each of the four corners where the words inter-
sect. The words mean: Sweet-smelling, to make a scale, a fillet, an
ecclesiastic. BESSIE AND HIER COUSIN.

HIDDEN FRENCH SENTENCE.

FIND in the following sentence the French words with which the
Emperor Alexander of Russia once described St. Petersburg:
Give him a good anvil, let him deal sound blows on the irons for
the pier, repeated and strong, and the work will last, B.


[MAY,







THIE RIDDLE-BOX.



PICTORIAL ANAGRAM PROVERB PUZZLE.


I 6. 8.3. 1.3.6.2. 1..1. .

THE answer is a proverb of eight words. Each numeral beneath the pictures represents a letter in that word of the proverb which is
indicated by that numeral,-5 showing that the letter it designates belongs to the fifth word of the proverb, 3 to the third word, and so on.
Find a word that describes each picture and contains as many letters as there are numerals beneath the picture itself. This is the first
process. Then put down, some distance apart, the figures I, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, to correspond with the words of the proverb. Group beneath
figure 6 all the letters designated by the numeral 6 in the numbering beneath the pictures. You will thus have in a group all the letters con-
tained by the sixth word of the proverb, 'and you will then have only to transpose those letters in order to form the word itself. Follow the
same process of grouping and transposition in forming each of the remaining words of the proverb. Of course, the transposition need not be
begun until all the letters have been set apart in their proper groups. s. R.


THREE EASY SQUARE-WORDS.
I.--. A bard of fame.
2. From mines I came.
3. A fish's name.
II.--. The mountain's fringe.
2. I make slaves cringe.
3. A ruddy tinge.
III.-i. What bad men hate.
2. I blanch the pate.
3. To join or mate. N. AND VIOLET.

EASY ENIGMA.
My first is in dark, but'not in light;
My second in girl, but not in boy;
My third is in peace, but not in fight;
My fourth in mourning, not in joy;
My fifth is in flowers, but not in weeds;
My sixth in kind, but not in cruel;
My seventh is in drives, and also in leads;
And my whole is a beautiful jewel. 'N. Ic. K.


REVERSIBLE DOUBLE DIAMOND AND
CONCEALED WORD-SQUARE.


E -

FILL the vacant places with letters to form a reversible double
diamond which shall inclose a reversible word-squar'.--Centrals: Per-
pendicular, to make merry; horizontal, a mechanical power. Word-
square: i, a number; 2, part of the day; 3, to knit. H. H. D.

EASY SYNCOPATIONS.
I. SYNCOPATE a composite metal, and leave a fish. 2. Syncopate
an article of food, and leave an ornament. 3. Syncopate a map, and
leave a vehicle. 4. Syncopate a pungent spice, and leave a small
bay. 5. Syncopate a wading bird, and leave a reed. 6. Syncopate
a short, ludicrous play, and leave a part of the body. 7. Syncopate
another part of the body, and leave a wild animal. 8. Syncopate a
domestic animal, and leave articles of clothing. 9. Syncopate a
small animal, and leave to ponder. io. Syncopate a flower, and
leave a domestic animal. ISOLA.








THE RIDDLE-BOX.


PICTORIAL TRANSPOSITION PUZZLES.








i. Gives right to.



To solve these five puzzles: Find for each picture a
word, or words, that will correctly describe it, and
then transpose the letters of the descriptive word or I
I -words so as to form another word, which will answer
to the definition given below the picture. B


'Ii
--. -c


2. A prince of Hindustan.


3, A token of victory.


EASY SQUARE-WORD. EASY DIAMOND.
i. SOOTHING ointment. 2. A bitter-tasting plant. 3. Knowledge i. A CONSONANT. 2. A lively animal. 3. To moisten or irrigate.
gained from reading or study. 4. Mild of temper. K. 4. A jewel. 5. A consonant. ISOLA.



ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN APRIL NUMBER.


NUMERICAL ENIGxMA.-Victor Ema.nuel. i, Rome; 2, Turin;
3, Venice; 4, Milan.
EAsy DIAMOND PUZZLE.-G, bEt, GeNoa, tOe, A.
WORD SYNCOPATIONS.-I. Parsonage-arson, page. 2. Notice-
able-ice, notable. 3. Bewilder-wild, beer. 4. Devotee-vote, Dee.
5. Decanter-cant, deer.
ANAGRAMS.-I. Annoyance. 2. Combinations. 3. Conversion.
4. Dangerous. 5. Ceremonial. 6. Madrigal. 7. Unalterable. 8. Dis-
engage.
DIrO,-LETrER PUZZLE.-" He doth much who doth well what he
hath to do."
EASY RHOMBOID PUZZLE.- C A R E
NEAT
D R 0 P
LEAP
PICTORIAL ANAGRAM PUZZLE.-Frigates. Feast, stag, gate, seat,
rats, air, fist, tars, safe, stage.
SEXTUPLE WORD-CROSS.-Full perpendicular: Bobolink. Full
horizontal: Bayonet. Top limb: Bob. Bottom limb: Link. Left
arm: Bay. Right arm: Net.
PRESIDENTIAL DISCOVERIES.-i. Ant. 2. Washing. 3. Martin,
tailor (Taylor). 4. Ruth. 5. Birch (Burc/ard). 6. Abraham, Zach-


ary. 7. John, James, Andrew, Thomas. 8. Tin. 9. Lard, ham.
10. Mil. 11. T0on. 12. Frank. 13. Andre. 14. Rank. 15. Pier. 16. Art.
17. Ford, dams. r8. Roe. 19. Ayes. 20. Franklin. 21. Ulysses.
22. Ash. 23. William Henry. 24. Grant. 25. Mi, la, re. 26. I Am.
27. Jam. 28. Hen. 29. Ada. 30. Mor. 3. Son.
EAsy DOUBLE AcrOSTIc.-Amierica, England. i. AgreeablE.
2. Main. 3. EgG. 4. RaiL. 5. IdeA. 6. ClaN. 7. AmuseD.
NUMERICAL PUZZLE -Madagascar. Dam, sag, car.
s c
DAM
R G
A PROVERB AMONG PROVERBS.-" Love can neither be bought
nor sold; its only price is love."
A MEDLEY.-Scrape, crape, rape, ape. Capers, cape, cap. Pacers,
pace, ace. Casper, asp. ,
HALF WORD-SQUARE.-S E N A T 0 R
EX O GEN
NOVEL
AGES
T E L
0 R


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES in the March number were received, before March x8, from R. T. McKeever, Eddie Vultee, Charles M. Jones,
George J. Fiske, Esther L. Fiske, "Guesser," Milly and Maude Adams, Jay B. Benton, Chas. G. Todd, M. A. Newlands, "Mione and
White Fawn," Leonie Giraud; Unsigned, Philadelphia; Fred A. Pease, Katie Burnett, Mary C. Warren, Jennie Dillingham and Frances
V. Lord, M. W. Collet, Catherine Cowl, Allie Bertram, Julia F. Allen, T. J. De la Hunt, G. L., Carrie Speiden and Mary F. Speiden,
" Bessie and her Cousin," Nettle I. G., Xerxes J. Booren, Nettle 722," Queen Bess," E. C. Moss, Nellie Baker, A. L. S and L. R. P.,
Otto Dreier, "Prebo," "Prebo's Ma," Mary Belle Giddings, Nellie Kellogg, Lillie Stone, Grace C. Raymond, J. Harry Townsend,
C. Lothrop, Robin Nelson, Ben Merrill, Bessie Cary, Edith Claypole Ewing. Nellie Wooster, Rufus Clark, Nellie C. Graham, Harriet H.
Doyle, Bertie E. Bailey, May Odell, "Thorndale," Louie G. Hinsdale and Arnold Guyot Cameron, Robert P. Christian, Belle W. Brown,
Dellic Wilmarth, Emily Morison, Frank Bowman, Fred Worthington, Walter Stockdale, Carroll B. Carr, Eddie F. Worcester, Charley W.
Sprague, Nellie Emerson; "Winnie," Brookline; Josie Morris Brown, Mary W. Ovington, Allie Armstrong, Sidney S. Conger, Nellie J.
Hutchings, S. N. Knapp, F. Armington, Austin D. Mabie, Carrie and Sharlie King, Willie B. Deas, Bessie B. Whiting, Nettle A. Ives,
Richard Emmins, A. Gunther, H. B. Ayers, Frances Hunter, Alice B. Moore, Percy Crenshaw, "Robin Redbreast," John V. L. Pierson.
Mattie S. J. Swallow, Gertrude V. Sharp, Harriet Etting, Mary H. Stickney, Maggie J. Gemmill, Georgie B., B. McVay Allison, Jennie
Beach; Nellie T. Dozier and Julia T. Gardiner; Everett B. Clark, R. H. Marr, Jr., Jennie O. Smith, Lillie Singich, Georgine C. Schnitz-
spahn, F. D., Anna E. Mathewson, Edward C. Niles, R. W. Abert, MollieW. Morris, Sam V. Gilbert, Mary H. Bradley, William H. Atkin-
son, Alice N. Dunn, Philip Cary, Fred Whittlesey, Bessie L. Barnes, i. Grant Squires, E. C., L. C. L.; Unsigned, Seymour,
Conn. ; Lalla Whitaker, Edna C. Lewis, Jennie R. McClure, "Eagle;" . i.. i.. I and Constance Grand-Pierre; Barton Longacre, Eva
Doeblin, Belle M. Grier, "Minnehaha," Emmie O. Johnson, "Sister Lizzie," Harry Haskell, Addison F. Hunis; Kittie Hamilton Chapman
and Carrie R. Heller; and Elmer Dwiggins. Gladys H. Wilkinson and John P. Brewin, both of England, also sent answers.
Correct answers to all puzzles were received from "King Wompster."


4. A sylvan deity.


5. A creator..


Li