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HIDE
 Front Cover
 The girl who saved the general
 Forty-less one
 How the weather is foretold
 Too many birthdays
 Under the lilacs
 The Yankee boys that didn't number...
 The barbecue
 Birds and their families
 Rain - Sneeze Dodson's first Independence...
 Meadow talk - A boy's experience...
 Dab Kinzer: A story of a growing...
 The story of Perseus
 The story little Nell read
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover
 Spine


BLDN NEH CCLC ICDL UFSPEC



St. Nicholas, vol. 5, no. 9
ALL VOLUMES CITATION SEARCH THUMBNAILS PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00062
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas, vol. 5, no. 9
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: UF00065513:00062

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    The girl who saved the general
        Plate
        Page 577
        Page 578
    Forty-less one
        Page 579
        Page 580
    How the weather is foretold
        Page 581
        Page 582
        Page 583
    Too many birthdays
        Page 584
        Page 585
        Page 586
        Page 587
        Page 588
    Under the lilacs
        Page 589
        Page 590
        Page 591
        Page 592
        Page 593
        Page 594
        Page 595
        Page 596
        Page 597
        Page 598
        Page 599
    The Yankee boys that didn't number ten
        Page 600
        Page 601
    The barbecue
        Page 602
        Page 603
        Page 604
        Page 605
    Birds and their families
        Page 606
        Page 607
        Page 608
        Page 609
        Page 610
        Page 611
        Page 612
    Rain - Sneeze Dodson's first Independence Day
        Page 613
        Page 614
        Page 615
        Page 616
    Meadow talk - A boy's experience with tar marbles
        Page 617
        Page 618
        Page 619
    Dab Kinzer: A story of a growing boy
        Page 620
        Page 621
        Page 622
        Page 623
        Page 624
        Page 625
        Page 626
        Page 627
        Page 628
        Page 629
    The story of Perseus
        Page 630
        Page 631
    The story little Nell read
        Page 632
        Page 633
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 634
        Page 635
    The letter-box
        Page 636
        Page 637
    The riddle-box
        Page 638
        Page 639
        Page 640
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
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[ See Page 579 ]















ST


NICHOLAS.


JULY, 1878.


[Copyright, 1878, by Scribner & Co.]





THE GIRL WHO SAVED THE GENERAL.

BY CHARLES H. WOODMAN.


FAR down the Carolina coast lies the lovely
island of St. John, where stood, one hundred years
ago, a noble brick-built mansion, with lofty portico
and broad piazza. Ancient live-oaks, trembling
aspens, and great sycamores, lifted a bower over it
to keep off the sun. Threading their way through
orange-trees and beds of flowers, spacious walks
played hide-and-seek around the house, coming
suddenly full upon the river, or running out of
sight in the deep woods.
The owner of this place was Robert Gibbes.
With his beautiful young wife he kept an open
hall, and drew to its doors many of the great and
noble people of the times; for he was wealthy and
cultured, and she had such charming manners that
people loved her very presence. The great house
was full at all seasons. Eight children had already
come to this good couple, and seven little adopted
cousins were their playmates-the orphan children
of Mrs. Fenwick, sister to Mr. Gibbes. He him-
self was a cripple, and could not walk. In a chair
which ran on wheels he was drawn daily over the
pleasant paths, sometimes by the faithful black
servants, sometimes by the still more devoted chil-
dren, who tugged at the rope like so many frisky
colts. In their careless joy he forgot his own suffer-
ings, and would laugh heartily when they deserted
him and hid, with shouts, behind the great trunks,
until every tree in the park seemed to cry out
"Papa i and Uncle Robert The loveliness
of the spot, and the happiness of its dwellers, suited
well its name of Peaceful Retreat," by which it
was known through all the country.
VOL. V.-39.


But in those troublous times it could not always
remain "peaceful." In the spring of 1779, the
British took possession of all the sea-board. General
Prevost marched up from Savannah and laid siege
to Charleston. The beautiful city was about to fall
into the enemy's hands; all night the men had
toiled in the trenches, the women had prayed on
their knees in their chambers, expecting every
moment to hear the besieging cannon roar through
the darkness. At daylight the next morning the
housetops were thronged with anxious watchers;
but as the sun came gloriously out of the sea, it
shone upon deserted fields ; not a tent was to be
seen. Hearing that General Lincoln was hasten-
ing on with his army, Prevost had struck his tents
in the night, and was retreating rapidly toward
Savannah. He crossed the Stono Ferry, and forti-
fied himself on John's Island, as the island of St.
John's was often called.
For weeks now the noise of musketry and heavy
guns destroyed the quiet joy at Peaceful Retreat."
The children, in the midst of play, would hear the
dreadful booming, and suddenly grow still and
pale. The eldest daughter, Mary Anna, was a
sprightly, courageous girl of thirteen. She had
the care of all the little ones, for her mother's
hands were full, in managing the great estate and
caring for her husband. The children never played
now in the park, unless Mary was with them ; and
when the frightful noise came through the trees,
they ran to her as chickens to a mother's wing.
After a time, the enemy determined to take pos-
session of this beautiful place. A body of British


VOL. V.


No. 9.






THE GIRL WHO SAVED THE GENERAL.


and Hessians quietly captured the landing one mid-
night, and, creeping stealthily onward, filled the
park and surrounded the house. At day-break, the
inmates found themselves prisoners.
Then came trying days for the family. The
officers took up their quarters in the mansion,
allowing the family to occupy the upper story.
They may have been brave soldiers, but they cer-
tainly were not gentlemen, for they did everything
to annoy Mrs. Gibbes, who bore all her trouble
nobly and patiently. Little Mary had entire charge
of the smaller children, which was no easy task,
for they were continually getting into some sort of
trouble with the troops.
John's Island was less than thirty miles from
Charleston, and when the American officers in the
city heard that Peaceful Retreat" had been capt-
ured by the British, they determined to rescue it
from the enemy. Two large galleys were imme-
diately manned and equipped and sent to the
plantation, with strict orders not to fire upon the
mansion.
Sailing noiselessly up the Stono River, at dead
of night, the vessels anchored abreast the planta-
tion. Suddenly, out of the thick darkness burst a
flame and roar, and the shot came crashing through
the British encampment. The whole place was
instantly in uproar. The officers in the house
sprang from bed, and hastily dressed and armed.
The family, rudely awakened, rushed to the win-
dows. A cold rain was falling, and the soldiers,
half-clad, were running wildly hither and thither,
while the officers were frantically calling them to
arms. Mary woke at the first terrible roar and fled
to her mother's room. The excitable negro ser-
vants uttered most piercing shrieks. The poor
little children were too frightened to scream, but
clung, trembling, to Mary.
Mrs. Gibbes was in great distress. She knew
not, at first, whether it was an attack by friends on
the camp, or an assault on the house by the enemy.
She ordered the servants to cease their wailing
and dress themselves. Then her husband and
the children were prepared; and, while the cannon
bellowed in quick succession and the noise around
the house grew louder, the father and mother con-
sulted what was best to do. It was now evident
that the attack was by their own friends, and its
object was to dislodge the enemy. But Mr. Gibbes
did not know that the house would not be fired on,
and he advised instant flight. He was carried to
his chair, and the whole household sallied forth
from a back door.
The scene was terrific. The night was pitchy
dark, and when, just as they stepped out, a sheet
of flame belched forth from the vessels, it seemed
to be almost against their faces. The roar shook


[JULY,


the ground. The troops were too busy saving
themselves to notice the fugitives, and they pushed
on as rapidly as possible.
No one was sufficiently protected from the rain.
Little Mary had the hardest part, for nearly all the
children were in her care. The mud was deep.
Some of the little ones could walk but a short dis-
tance at a time, and had to be carried-Mary
having always one, sometimes two, in her arms.
Several of the servants were near her, but none of
them seemed to notice her or her burdens. The
last horse had been carried off that very day; there
was no escape but on foot.
Suddenly, a ball came crashing by them through
the trees Then a charge of grape-shot cut the
boughs overhead. They were exactly in the range
of the guns It was evident they had taken the
worst direction, but there was no help for it now-
it was too late to turn back. In her agony, the
mother cried aloud on God to protect her family.
Mary hugged closer the child in her arms, and
trembled so she could hardly keep up. Another
crash The shot shrieked past them, striking the
trees in every direction. The assault was fierce,
the roar was incessant. The frightened family
rushed on as swiftly as possible toward a friend's
plantation, far back from the shore; but it was
soon seen that they would not have strength to
reach it, even if they were not struck down by the
flying shot. The Americans were pouring their
fire into these woods, thinking the enemy would
seek refuge there. The wretched fugitives expected
every moment to be the last. On they pushed
through mud and rain and screaming shot.
Soon they found they were getting more out of
range of the guns. They began to hope; yet now
and then a ball tore up the trees around them, or
rolled fearfully across their path. They reached
one of the houses where their field-hands lived,
with no one hurt; they were over a mile from the
mansion, and out of range. The negroes said no
shot had come that way. Unable to flee further,
the family determined to stop here. As soon as
they entered, Mrs. Gibbes felt her strength leaving
her, and sank upon a low bed. Chilled to the
bone, drenched, trembling with terror and exhaus-
tion, the family gathered around her. She opened
her eyes and looked about. She sprang up wildly.
Oh, Mary she cried, where is John ? "
The little girl turned pale, and moaned: "Oh,
mother mother! he's left!" She broke into cry-
ing. The negroes, quickly sympathetic, began to
wring their hands and wail.
"Silence !" said Mr. Gibbes, with stern but
trembling voice. The tears were in his own eyes.
The little child now missing was very dear to them
all, and, moreover, was deemed a sacred charge, as






FORTY-LESS ONE.


he was one of the orphan children of Mr. Gibbes's
sister, intrusted to him on her death-bed.
The wailing ceased; there was silence, broken
only by sobs, and the master asked:
Who is willing to go back for the child ?"
No one spoke. Mr. Gibbes turned to his wife
for counsel. As the two talked in low tones, Mrs.
Gibbes called her husband's attention to Mary, who
was kneeling with clasped hands, in prayer, at the
foot of the bed. In a moment, the little maid rose
and came to them, saying, calmly:
Mother, I must go back after baby."
Oh, my child," cried the mother, in agony, I
cannot let you "
"But, mother, I must," pleaded Mary. "God
will care for me."
It was a fearful responsibility. The guns yet
roared constantly through the darkness; the house
might now be in flames; it might be filled with
carnage and blood. Mrs. Gibbes turned to her
husband. His face was buried in his hands.
Plainly, she must decide it herself. With stream-
ing eyes, she looked at Mary.
Come here, my child," she called through her
sobs. Mary fell upon her mother's neck. One
long, passionate embrace, in which all a mother's
love and devotion were poured out, and the cling-
ing arms were opened without a word. Mary
sprang up, kissed her father's forehead, and sped
forth on her dangerous mission of love.
The rain had now ceased, but the night was
still dark and full of terrors, for through the trees
she saw the frequent flashes of the great guns.
The woods were filled with the booming echoes,
so that cannon seemed to be on every hand. She


flew on with all speed. Soon she heard the crash-
ing trees ahead, and knew that in a moment
she would be once more face to face with death.
She did not falter. Now she was again in the fierce
whirlwind All around her the shot howled and
shrieked. On every side branches fell crashing to
the earth. A cannon-ball plunged into the ground
close beside her, cast over her a heap of mud, and
threw her down. She sprang up and pressed on
with redoubled vigor. Not even that ball could
make her turn back.
She reached the house. She ran to the room
where the little child usually slept. The bed was
empty Distracted, she flew from chamber to
chamber. Suddenly she remembered that this
night he had been given to another nurse. Up
into the third story she hurried, and, as she pushed
open the door, the little fellow, sitting up in bed,
cooed to her and put out his hands.
With the tears raining down her cheeks, Mary
wrapped the babe warmly and started down the
stairs. Out into the darkness once more; onward
with her precious burden, through cannon-roar,
through shot and shell Three times she passed
through this iron storm. The balls still swept the
forest; the terrific booming filled the air.
With the child pressed tightly to her brave young
heart, she fled on. She neither stumbled nor fell.
The shot threw the dirt in her face, and showered
the twigs down upon her head. But she was not
struck. In safety she reached the hut, and fell
exhausted across the threshold.
And the little boy thus saved by a girl's brave
devotion, afterward became General Fenwick,
famous in the war of 1812.


FORTY-LESS ONE.

BY JAMES RICHARDSON.


OVER by the tangled thicket,
Where the level meets the hill,
Where the mealy alder-bushes
Crowd around the ruined mill,
Where the thrushes whistle early,
Where the midges love to play,
Where the nettles, tall and stinging,
Guard the vine-obstructed way,
Where the tired brooklet lingers
In a quiet little pool,
Mistress Salmo Fontinalis*
Keeps a very private school.


Forty little speckled beauties
Come to learn of her, each day,
How to climb the foaming rapids,
Where the flashing sunbeams play,-
How to navigate the eddies,
How to sink and how to rise,
How to watch for passing perils,
How to leap for passing flies,-
When to play upon the surface,
When beneath the stones to hide,-
All the secrets of the water,
All brook learning, true and tried ;-


* Brook-trout.






FORTY-LESS ONE.


" That's a good-for-nothing skipper;"
That's a harmless yellow-bird; "
" That's the flicker of the sunshine,
When the alder-leaves are stirred; "
" That's the shadow of a cloudlet;"
That's a squirrel come to drink; "
" That-look out for him, my darlings !-
He's a fierce and hungry mink;"
" That's the ripple on the water,
When the winds the wavelets stir; "
" That-snap quick, my little hearties !-
That's a luscious grasshopper."

So the clever Mistress Salmo
Gives her counsel, day by day,-
Teaching all the troutly virtues,
All life's lessons, grave and gay.


What was that which passed so quickly,
With a slender shade behind ?
What is that which stirs the alders
When no ripple tells of wind?
What sends Mistress Salmo darting
Underneath the stones in fear ?-
Crying, Hide yourselves, my darlings!
Our worst enemy is near "
" I am bound to understand it,"
Says one self-proud speckle-side;
" When I see the danger's real,
Then, if need be, I can hide."

So he waits alone and watches,
Sees the shadow pass again,
Sees a fly drop on the water,-
Dashes at it, might and main.


tir-
7- ---






4-~ -.-i
----- -x _________


Well she knows the flashing terror
Of King Fisher's sudden fall!
Well she knows the lurking danger
Of the barb'd hook, keen and small
Well she tries to warn her pupils
Of all evils, low and high !
But, alas the vain young triflers
Sometimes disobey-and die !


" Missed it! Well," he says, "I never!
That's the worst jump made to-day!
Here another comes-now for it!"
Splash He 's in the air-to stay!
When the alders cease to tremble,
Silence comes and sun-glints shine,
Mistress Salmo Fontinalis
Calls the roll,-just thirty-nine !






HOW THE WEATHER IS FORETOLD.


rH 6


HOW THE WEATHER IS FORETOLD.

BY JAMES H. FLINT.


IN former times, the chief herald of the weather
was the almanac, which ambitiously prophesied a
whole year of cold and heat, wet and dry, dividing
up the kinds of weather quite impartially, if not
always correctly.
But the almanac, good as it was now and then,
and the weather-wise farmers, correct as sometimes
they might have been, were not always able to im-
part exact information to the country; and they
have been thrown quite into the shade of late, by
one who is popularly known under the somewhat
disrespectful title of Old Prob," or Old Prob-
abilities." He has become the Herald of the
Weather to the sailor, near the rocky, dangerous
coasts; to the farmer, watching his crops, and
waiting for good days to store them; to the trav-
eler, anxious to pursue his journey under fair skies;
and to the girls and boys who want to know, before
they start to the woods for a picnic, what are the
"probabilities" as to rain.
Every one who reads the daily paper is familiar
with the Weather Record," issued from the War
Department, office of the Chief Signal Officer," at
Washington. These reports give, first, a general
statement of what the weather has been, for the
past twenty-four hours, all over the country, from
Maine to California, and from the Lakes to the
South Atlantic States; and then the Proba-
bilities," or "Indications," for the next twenty-four
hours, over this same broad territory. The annual
reports of the Chief Signal Officer show that in only
comparatively few instances do these daily predic-
tions fail of fulfillment.
The reason these prophecies are so true is a
simple and yet a wonderful one. The weather
itself tells the observer what it is going to do, some


time in advance, and the telegraph sends the news
all over the country, from the central signal office
at Washington.
We shall see, presently, how the weather inter-
prets itself to Old Probabilities." Although it
has proved such a fruitful subject of discourse in
all ages, yet I am afraid many people who pass
remarks upon it, do not really think what the
weather is made of. Let us examine its different
elements.
The atmosphere has weight, just as water or any
other fluid, although it seems to be perfectly bodi-
less. We must comprehend that the transparent,
invisible air is pressing inward toward the center of
the earth. This pressure varies according to the
state of the weather, and the changes are indicated
by an instrument called a barometer. Generally
speaking, the falling of the mercury in the tube
of the barometer indicates rain, and its rise heralds
clear weather. Sometimes the rise is followed by
cold winds, frost and ice. What these changes
really indicate, however, can be determined only
by comparing the barometric changes, at certain
hours, in a number of places very far apart. This
is done by the Signal Service. Observations are
made at about one hundred and forty stations, in
different portions of the country, at given hours, and
the results are telegraphed at once to Washington,
where our faithful "weather clerk" receives them,
reasoning out from them the probabilities" which
he publishes three times in every twenty-four hours.
But the atmosphere varies not only in weight,
but also in temperature. The thermometer tells
us of such changes.
Besides this, the air contains a great amount of
moisture, and it shows as much variation in this






HOW THE WEATHER IS FORETOLD.


characteristic as in the others. For the purpose of
making known the changes in the moisture of the
atmosphere, an instrument has been invented called
a wet-bulb thermometer.
We are thus enabled to ascertain the weight or
pressure, the temperature, and the wetness of the
air, and now it only remains for us to measure the
force, and point out the direction, of the wind.
This is done by the familiar weather-vane and the
anemometer. The vane shows the direction, and
the anemometer is an instrument which indicates
the velocity of the wind.
It is by a right understanding of all these instru-
ments that the signal service officer is enabled to
tell what the weather says of itself; for they are
the pens with which the weather writes out the
facts from which the officer makes up his reports
for the benefit of all concerned. Thus, however
wildly and blindly the storm may seem to come, it
sends messengers telling just where it arose, what
course it will take, and how far it will extend. But
it tells its secrets to those only who pay strict atten-
tion.
The system of danger signals, adopted by the
United States Government, has proved of great
benefit to shipping. All along the coasts are sta-
tions, at which plainly visible signals are displayed,
to warn ship-captains of approaching storms. The
reports of observers at the stations are required to
give all instances in which vessels have remained
in port on account of official warnings given. In
these cases danger was avoided, and statistics show
that disasters to shipping have been considerably
fewer since the introduction of the cautionary
signals.
The agricultural interests of the country also
have been greatly benefited by the daily bulletins
sent to every farming district in the land by the
Weather Department. These bulletins are made
from telegraphic reports received at appointed cen-
ters of distribution, where they are at once printed,
placed in envelopes, and addressed to designated
post-offices in the district to be supplied. Each
postmaster receiving a bulletin has the order of
the Postmaster-General to display it instantly in a
frame furnished for the purpose.
The bulletins reach the different offices, and are
displayed in the frames, on the average, at eleven
o'clock in the morning, making about ten hours
from the time the report first left the chief signal
officer until it appeared placarded at every center
of the farming populations, and became accessible
to all classes even in the most distant parts of the
country.
The information given on these bulletins has
been found especially valuable to those farmers
who take an interest in the study of meteorology,


or the science of weather, and the facts announced
are so plain, that any intelligent person may profit
by them. For instance,' each bulletin now an-
nounces, for its particular district, what winds in
each month have been found most likely, and what
least likely, to be followed by rain. Attention
given to this one simple piece of information will
result in increasing the gains and reducing the
losses of harvesting.
Warnings of expected rises or falls in the great
rivers are made with equal regularity, telegraphed,
bulletined in frames, and also published by the
newspapers, at the different river cities. These
daily reports give the depths of water at different
points in the rivers' courses, and thus make it easy
for river shipping to be moored safely in anticipa-
tion of low water, when ignorance might lead to
the grounding of the boats on sand-bars or mud-
banks. The notices of the probable heights which
freshets may reach, are followed by preparations
upon the "levees" and river-banks, to guard
against overflows.
The United States Signal Service is a branch of
the army. No one is admitted to it who is under
twenty-one years of age. Every candidate has to
undergo before enlistment an examination, the
chief subjects of which are spelling, legible hand-
writing, proficiency in arithmetic, and the geog-
raphy of the United States, physical and political.
Successful candidates are regularly enlisted in
the army, as non-commissioned officers, and go
through a course of very systematic instruction in
military signaling and telegraphy. They are as-
signed afterward to different posts, where they are
required to make observations and report the same
by wire three times a day, to the commanding
officer at Washington. These observations are
made by means of the instruments I have described,
and include the different appearances in the sky;
and at all the stations they are made at the same
hour, according to Washington time. The tele-
graph gives to the Herald of the Weather and his
aids the advantage of hearing from all the hundred
and forty-odd observers almost at the same time;
and when all this information has been gathered
up, studied out, and re-arranged, the same swift
servant takes all over the country, again almost at
one time, the ripe results of the care and watching
of more than seven score persons separated by hun-
dreds and even thousands of miles from the central
office.
I should like to describe the instruments fully,
but must content myself with telling you what
remarkable things some of them do. The self-
registering barometer, for instance, is made to
actually photograph a storm; another is made to
draw with a pencil, every hour, figures that show


[JULY,






HIOW THE WEATHER IS FORETOLD.


the height of the column of mercury and the con-
dition of the atmosphere. Even the vane, or weather-
cock, marks down the direction and force of the wind.
The report of the chief signal officer for the year
1876 gives some idea of the vast amount of labor
performed by the service. The Herald of the
Weather never rests. As he says, The duties of
this office permit little rest and less hesitation. Its
action must be prompt. `* Its orders must
issue, its signals of warning be given, and its record
thus made, sometimes when wisdom would delay,
if possible, and subsequent information show it had
delayed rightly. It is the simple duty of the office
to act at each present moment as well as it can
with the information at that time before it. The
reports to come after can only give bases for future
action, while exhibiting the right and wrong of the
past." These points should be borne in mind by
those who are disposed to find fault with some of
the daily predictions about the weather. If these
predictions do not always come true, it is for the
reason given above. Each report must be made
at a given hour. Sudden changes may occur
immediately after a report has been issued. These
changes cannot be waited for, and cannot always
be foreseen. But the general accuracy of the daily
reports cannot be questioned, as about eighty per
cent. of their predictions are known to have been
verified, and the average of failure grows less.
The method of arranging, comparing, and study-
ing out the meaning of all the different records of
observations made at all the weather stations, can-
not be explained in a short article. But I may add
that the weather is, after all, not quite so capricious
as its accusers have asserted. And it has been
found that all storms have certain "habits, move-
ments, and tracks." It is by applying these laws,
and drawing conclusions from them, that the
prophet of the weather is able to tell so nearly what
kind of a day we shall have, and just about where
and when the storm will come.
Nearly all great storms have a rotary, or cycloni-
cal character. The little whirlwinds we often see
on windy days, when the dust is caught up and
whirled around, are miniature examples of great
storms which sweep around immense circles.
Almost all great rain, hail, and snow storms re-
volve in this manner around a calm center where
the mercury is low in the tube of the barometer.
Sometimes two or more cyclones meet, and inter-
fere with one another's rotary motions ; and "when
interference of this description take place, we have
squalls, calms (often accompanied by heavy rains),
thunder-storms, great variations in the direction


and force of the wind," and irregular movements
of the barometer.
So then, considering all that the Herald of the
Weather has to do, the care and quickness with
which it must be done, and the excellent results he
obtains, everybody who is at all interested in the
changes of the weather ought to be grateful to him
for his faithfulness and devoted attention to duty.
But why should the Government of the United
States-that is to say, the people as a whole-take
the trouble and bear the cost of keeping a small
army of men to watch the weather all over the
country, and to telegraph their observations three
times a day to Washington? Why should the
officials there take the trouble to compare these
observations and telegraph back to each locality
what weather it may expect, and what the weather
will be elsewhere, so that you and I may know
when to stay at home, or when to take our um-
brellas with us if we go out ?
Hardly. There are more important matters at
stake. Most of you are old enough to know that
it is unexpected weather that causes most of the
trouble that the weather occasions. The farmer
expects fair weather, cuts his hay or grain, and a
storm comes and spoils it. He looks for rain, and
lets his crop stand ; the bright sun injures it, or he
loses a good chance to harvest it. The ship-master
expects fair weather, puts out from port, and his
ship is driven back upon the shore, a wreck. He
expects a storm, stays in port, and misses the fair
wind that would have carried him far to sea.
Now, a very large part of these disappointments
and losses may be prevented, if one only knows
with reasonable certainty what sort of weather it is
likely to be to-day and to-morrow; and that is just
the information the Weather Herald furnishes.
The great storms usually come slowly driving
across the country-so slowly that the telegraph
may send word of their coming two or three days
ahead. Thus the farmers may know just what
they may safely undertake to do; and so may the
ship-masters.
Since the farmers and seamen have learned to
value the weather warnings rightly, this service
saves the country every year millions and millions
of dollars' worth of property, and, it may be, hun-
dreds of lives. Often a single timely warning has
prevented losses that would have amounted to
more than the entire cost of the weather service
from the beginning until now. And possibly the
yearly saving effected by warnings of ordinary
"changeable weather, may together amount to
more than those in connection with great storms.


1878.1






TOO MANY BIRTHDAYS.


TOO MANY BIRTHDAYS.

BY FANNY M. OSBORNE.


THE king of the island was the father, and the
queen the mother, of the little princess about whom
this story is told. For many generations there had
been but one child born to the royal family ; but
goodness and beauty being hereditary, these only
children were beloved by all the subjects of the
realm; and although they ran a great danger of
being spoiled, they never were, but remained all
through their lives as simple, gentle, and unpre-
tentious as though born to the humblest lot.
Of course, the event of the birth of one of these
children had been, from time immemorial, the
occasion of the greatest and most sincere rejoicing,
and the enthusiasm of the people seemed even
greater at each repetition of these blessed anni-
versaries.
In this happy island crimes were almost un-
known; and so generous and confiding were the
people, that they imagined all the world were as
good as themselves. It is not surprising, there-
fore, that when the great physician Aigew came
from a far distant land to attend the grandfather of
the little princess on his death-bed, no one in all
the island suspected that he was anything else than
the best and kindest of doctors. It is true that the
former court physician, now displaced by Aigew,
had his doubts about his successor. But it is best
not to trouble ourselves with what we cannot under-
stand; and whether or not Aigew was as good as
he pretended to be, the king and queen were alto-
gether pleased with their new doctor. Knowing
him to be wise and of great book-learning, they
admitted him to the closest intimacy in their private
life, consulted him upon all questions of state, and
accepted his guidance and counsel as that of a
superior being. It was to his influence that the
islanders owed their great birthday law, by which
it was enacted that, on each recurrence of the
princess's anniversary, every child in the kingdom
was to be allowed his or her way, without restraint,
from sunrise until sunset; and, during the day,
the use of the word "no" was forbidden to all
fathers and mothers and nursery-maids, from one
end of the island to the other.
Everybody thought this one of the best enact-
ments of the reign. What a beautiful thought "
said they. "All the children in the land rejoicing
with their princess! When they are grown men
and women, they will always think of her with
pleasure, for she will be associated with the most
delightful memories of their childhood."


It certainly did seem very charming at first. But
the day after was harvest-time for the great phy-
sician and his assistants, who kept flying hither
and thither post-haste.
Still, every one said it was a good law. It was
true the children were not quite so well next day;
but then, what a fine moral effect! and what a
pleasant sight it was to see them all thoroughly
happy for at least one day in every year !
Now, just after the fourteenth birthday had been
celebrated, Aigew was called in to see to the
princess. He gave her a little medicine, which she
took in the prettiest way, without jelly.
That's a nice, good girl," said the grave doc-
tor. "I have offered you no birthday gift as yet;
but it is in my power to give you anything you
wish. Say-what shall it be, sweet princess ? "
"It is enough to give me your kind care," an-
swered the princess. "Everything else I have.
The best part of all to me was the enjoyment of
the other children. Ah how I wish I could have
a birthday whenever I choose "
Even that," said the doctor, "is possible," as
he took something from his bosom, smiling curi-
ously to himself as he did so. "I give you this
little casket upon two conditions," said he. One
is that you are never to mention the circumstance
to a living soul; you are not even to speak of it to
me. The other I will tell you after I have ex-
plained the nature of the gift. Inside this box are
eighty crystal figures ; each one represents a birth-
day, and lies, as you see, in a separate compart-
ment. Begin at the right hand, and whenever
you wish to have a birthday, you have only to
place one of these in your little mouth, and it is
here."
The princess, trembling and faint from a strange
perfume in the air, took the box in her hand.
But the other condition ? "
It is merely this: that no one but yourself ever
tastes the contents of the magical box. If any one
should, the worst consequences would follow; and,
among others, all these birthdays, with all that
they have occasioned and all the presents that
have been given in their honor, will pass away and
become as nothing. Remember this." And he
was gone.
The princess examined her singular present with
the most intense interest. It looked wonderfully
like a pill-box; but inside, lying in the tiniest com-
partments, were marvelously small and beautiful


[JUrL,






TOO MANY BIRTHDAYS.


figures exactly like herself in miniature, except
that, beginning at the right, each one was a little
older in appearance than the one preceding.


lips. The taste was sweet; but that was soon for-
gotten in her surprise at the unusual bustle which
sprang up immediately in the city. Cannons were


THE DOCTOR PRESENTS THE CASKET TO THE PRINCESS.

The next morning, before the rising of the sun, firing; the populace was shouting, Long live the
the little princess lay awake, with the casket in her princess and great vans came thundering up to
hand. the entrance, laden with gifts. Yes, it was all true;
Shall I ? or shall I not? said she. I think she might have a birthday whenever she chose. It
I shall." passed off like the fourteen that had gone before.
And the first figure from the right melted on her On the morrow, another was celebrated; another,






TOO MANY BIRTHDAYS.


after the interval of one day ; and another in a
week from that; so that the whole kingdom was
kept in a continual uproar of festivity.
Dr. Aigew sent to his own country for many
more learned doctors and chemists. He built great
laboratories, where, all day and all night, pills and
draughts and mixtures (of which I hope never even
to know the names) were zealously compounded.





.l]l.' ii /,/-- 5 ,/' '













THE DOCTOR SUMMONS OTH

The huge chimneys sent forth black clouds of
physic-laden smoke, which began to hang like a
pall over the city. The fields, once yellow with
corn, were now only cultivated for the production
of rhubarb and senna and camomile. The children
of the nation grew as yellow and bilious as Aigew
himself. All the wealth of the island was pouring
into the coffers of the doctor. There were no shops
open but those of chemists and confectioners. No
other trade had an opportunity to flourish. The
country was plainly going to ruin.
The old king saw but one way to save his people.
He must send his daughter away. This made him
very sad, for he loved her dearly, and could not
bear to have her know the truth.
What shall I do ? he asked the queen.
It is quite plain," answered she. Marry her."
This was easily done. The fame of her beauty
and gentleness had reached other lands; and a
marriage was soon arranged between the little
princess and a handsome young prince, who was
the son and heir of a neighboring king.
In due time, the prince with his retinue started,
in much pomp and magnificence, to visit the bride;
and he made such good speed, in his impatience,
that he arrived in the island several days before the
time appointed. Within the city gates, the caval-
cade halted for a moment that the prince might
rest.
I am very weary," said he to the chamberlain.


" Call the first gentleman-in-waiting, and ask him
to tell the page to tell the butler to send a servant
with some wine. Or, stay I 'd like to taste the
national beverage, whatever it may be."
So the chamberlain told the first gentleman-in-
waiting to tell the page to tell the butler to tell a
servant to ask some one for the national beverage.
The servant returned from a confectioner's shop,


_-C


ER DOCTORS AND CHEMISTS.
and told the butler, who told the page, who told
the first gentleman-in-waiting, who told the cham-
berlain, that the people generally drank lemonade,
but, on account of the celebration of the princess's
birthday, none was to be had.
There is some mistake !" cried the prince, who
was tired and a little cross, and very thirsty;
there is some mistake The princess's birthday
will be the day after to-morrow, the date for which
we were invited. Go and find out the meaning of
this riddle."
Soon the chamberlain returned, bringing the
confectioner with him.
My lord," says he, this man tells so strange
a story, that I have brought him here lest you
should suspect me of falsehood. He declares that
he has furnished confections, creams, and fruits for
the princess's birthday, forty-one distinct individual
times."
It is the truth, my lord," said the confectioner.
It cannot be !" gasped the prince. "Make
further inquiries. Tell the chamberlain to tell the
gentleman-in-waiting to tell the page to tell the-
ah I am deathly faint. Forty-one, and I but
twenty last month "
Voices were heard and approaching footsteps.
The chamberlain had brought six reverend men,
dignitaries of the town, all of whom testified that
on forty-one several occasions the birthday of the
princess had been celebrated.






1878.1 TOO MANY BIRTHDAYS. 567


It is enough In fact, too much cried the
prince. "We return immediately. This insult
shall not pass unavenged."
So all the horses turned their heads where their
tails had been; the musicians changed their tune
from See, the conquering hero comes" to Take
me home to die; and the prince returned whence
he came.
The king, his father, was not so wroth as the
prince had expected.
I have been wrong," said he. The prince is
'O'er young to marry yet,' while I have been a
widower for many years, and perhaps should marry
first and set him an example. If the match proves
unfortunate, I shall not have so long to endure it,
from the difference in our ages. From my expe-
rience, he may learn wisdom. Yes, like a true
father, I will sacrifice myself. It is I who shall
marry the lady. You say she is fair and gentle,
and only forty-one ? I will sacrifice myself."
The other king and his court were much sur-
prised when the news came that the prince re-
pudiated all thoughts of the marriage, and that
the father proposed to take his place as bride-
groom. They were at first disposed to be indig-
nant; but then something had to be done, or the
kingdom would soon be ruined. And besides, the
king was already on his way; he was known to be
of a fiery temper; he had at his command a large
and powerful standing army; and if he chose to


possible in presence of her parents, and diverted
her mind by having continual birthdays.
The bridegroom king halted at the gates of the
town, with great dignity. He, too, arrived on a
different day from the one appointed. It was a
week later, at least. Age (the king was sixty, if he
was a day) travels with more care and deliberation
than hot-headed youth.
While waiting for the gates to be opened: the
king could not forbear smiling at the horror of the
young man when told of his bride's age.
Forty-one is not so old," thought he. Per-
haps this is the very confectioner's where they fur-
nished the information, but could not furnish any
refreshment."
Turning to an attendant, he gave the order:
"Bring me from yonder house a draught of
whatever is mostly used in the city."
It was not the confectioner's house, as he sup-
posed, to which he pointed, but one of Aigew's
laboratories. His majesty's commands were carried
thither; and the chemist, gray and wizen, came
forth, bearing a goblet filled with a dark liquid of
peculiar odor. He bowed his knee, and held it
toward the king, who took it in his hand, sniffed
his royal nose suspiciously, and said:
It has a disagreeable smell! What is it
called ? "
Rhubarb and senna, your majesty; it is the
only drink taken the day after the princess's birth-


,-w -


(i 1 arT7t


DELIVERING THE PRINCE'S MESSAGE.


make war, there was no possibility of resisting
him, for the soldiers of the island had turned their
swords into plowshares, and were engaged in
raising senna.
The princess, as you may imagine, was not
pleased with this change of bridegrooms; but,
used to obedience, she acquiesced in everything,
and told no one of the bitter tears she nightly shed
upon her pillow. She tried to be as cheerful as


day. Merry-making and feasting, when indulged
in too freely, are necessarily followed by physic
and fasting."
I'll none of it," cried the king. The princess's
birthday! I thought her birthday had passed
weeks ago."
Of that I know nothing," replied the chemist.
"I only know that yesterday we celebrated her
seventy-second birthday. I am an old man, as







TOO MANY BIRTHDAYS.


your majesty sees, and not likely to tell that which
is false."
The king was purple with rage. He said but









r//-
_-- .
/--n-C-- /7


j ''-. j (.:' "- ---".
-


They placed upon the princess's yellow curls a
beldame's cap, robed her in a plain gown of black,
and made ready to take her away.
I cannot understand," thought she, the cause
of the misfortunes that have befallen me and all
the world. Can it be Dr. Aigew's casket ?" She
took it from her bosom.
I fear me I shall want no birthdays in the con-
vent," said she, sadly. So there, little birds,
take what is left."
As she strewed the sugary mites, the little birds
caught them up and flew away.
A sudden earthquake convulsed the land, a vio-
lent hurricane swept over it. During these changes


the one word Home!"
In a few moments, he and
his retinue had turned
their backs, and they speed-
ily disappeared behind the
hills. There was only left
a cloud of dust, and an
occasional strain of The
girl I left behind me,"
borne back upon the wind
from the distance.
This last blow fell heavily
on the father of the princess.
He flew into a rage; he


nan naC too mucn or uirtn- > -rt/ /
days and bridegrooms, and '
determined he would be a
party to no more of either.
Get you gone to a con-
vent !" he cried to his weep- THE CHEMIST PRESENTS THE BEVERAGE TO THE KING.
ing, frightened daughter. Don apparel suitable of nature, everything that had been affected by the
to your years, and offend my sight no more !" unnatural birthdays returned to its former state.


[JULY,


cig







UNDER THE LILACS.


All remembrance even, connected with them ever ward visit the island, and was much impressed by
so remotely, was wiped from the memory of man. its quiet, sylvan life and the incomparable beauty
I am not sure, but I think the prince did after- of the princess; and they do say -


"o



V 1 ,


-' I L


/\4 ,
.,a,':k)


UNDER THE LILACS.

BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.


CHAPTER XVI.
DETECTIVE THORNTON.
A FEW days later, Miss Celia was able to go about
with her arm in a sling, pale still, and rather stiff,
but so much better than any one had expected,
that all agreed Mr. Paine was right in pronouncing
Dr. Mills "a master hand with broken bones."
Two devoted little maids waited on her, two eager
pages stood ready to run her errands, and friendly
neighbors sent in delicacies enough to keep these
four young persons busily employed in disposing
of them.
Every afternoon the great bamboo lounging chair
was brought out and the interesting invalid con-
ducted to it by stout Randa, who was head nurse,
and followed by a train of shawl, cushion, foot-stool,
and book bearers, who buzzed about like swarming
bees round a new queen. When all were settled,
the little maids sewed and the pages read aloud,
with much conversation by the way; for one of the
rules was, that all should listen attentively, and if
any one did not understand what was read, he or
she should ask to have it explained on the spot.
Whoever could answer these questions was invited
to do so, and at the end of the reading Miss Celia


could ask any she liked, or add any explanations
which seemed necessary. In this way much pleas-
ure and profit was extracted from the tales Ben and
Thorny read, and much unexpected knowledge as
well as ignorance displayed, not to mention piles
of neatly hemmed towels for which Bab and Betty
were paid like regular sewing-women.
So vacation was not all play, and the little girls
found their picnics, berry parties, and goin' a
visiting, all the more agreeable for the quiet hour
spent with Miss Celia. Thorny had improved
wonderfully, and was getting to be quite energetic,
especially since his sister's accident; for while she
was laid up he was the head of the house, and much
enjoyed his promotion. But Ben did not seem to
flourish as he had done at first. The loss of Sancho
preyed upon him sadly, and the longing to go and
find his dog grew into such a strong temptation
that he could hardly resist it. He said little about
it; but now and then a word escaped him which
might have enlightened any one who chanced to
be watching him. No one was, just then, so he
brooded over this fancy, day by day, in silence and
solitude, for there was no riding and driving now.
Thorny was busy with his sister trying to show her
that he remembered how good she had been to him


589







UNDER THE LILACS.


when he was ill, and the little girls had their own
affairs.
Miss Celia was the first to observe the change,
having nothing to do but lie on a sofa and amuse
herself by seeing others work or play. Ben was
bright enough at the readings, because then he
forgot his troubles; but when they were over and
his various duties done, he went to his own room
or sought consolation with Lita, being sober and
quiet, and quite unlike the merry monkey all knew
and liked so well.
Thorny, what is the matter with Ben ? asked
Miss Celia, one day, when she and her brother were
alone in the green parlor," as they called the
lilac-tree walk.
Fretting about Sanch, I suppose. I declare I
wish that dog had never been born Losing him
has just spoilt Ben. Not a bit of fun left in him, and
he wont have anything I offer to cheer him up."
Thorny spoke impatiently, and knit his brows
over the pressed flowers he was neatly gumming
into his herbal.
"I wonder if he has anything on his mind? He
acts as if he was hiding a trouble he did n't dare to
tell. Have you talked with him about it?" asked
Miss Celia, looking as if she was hiding a trouble
she did not like to tell.
Oh, yes, I poke him up now and then, but he
gets peppery, so I let him alone. May be he 's
longing for his old circus again. Should n't blame
him much if he was; it is n't very lively here, and
he's used to excitement, you know."
I hope it is n't that. Do you think he would
slip away without telling us, and go back to the old
life again ? "
Don't believe he would. Ben is n't a bit of a
sneak, that's why I like him."
Have you ever found him sly or untrue in any
way ? asked Miss Celia, lowering her voice.
"No; he 's as fair and square a fellow as I ever
saw. Little bit low, now and then, but he does n't
mean it, and wants to be a gentleman, only he never
lived with one before, and it's all new to him. I'll
get him polished up after a while."
Oh, Thorny, there are three peacocks on the
place, and you are the finest! laughed Miss Celia,
as her brother spoke in his most condescending
way with a lift of the eyebrows very droll to see.
"And tivo donkeys, and Ben 's the biggest, not
to know when he is well off and be happy!"
retorted the gentleman," slapping a dried speci-
men on the page as if he were pounding discon-
tented Ben.
Come here and let me tell you something which
worries me. I would not breathe it to another soul,
but I feel rather helpless, and I dare say you can
manage the matter better than I."
Looking much mystified, Thorny went and sat


on the stool at his sister's feet, while she whispered
confidentially in his ear: "I've lost some money
out of my drawer, and I'm so afraid Ben took it."
"But it's always locked up and you keep the
keys of the drawer and the little room ? "
It is gone, nevertheless, and I've had my keys
safe all the time."
"But why think it is he any more than Randa,
or Katy, or me? "
Because I trust you three as I do myself. I 've
known the girls for years, and you have no object
in taking it since all I have is yours, dear."
"And all mine is yours, of course. But, Celia,
how could he do it? He can't pick locks, I know,
for we fussed over my desk together, and had to
break it after all."
I never really thought it possible till to-day
when you were playing ball and it went in at the
upper window, and Ben climbed up the porch after
it; you remember you said, 'If it had gone in at the
garret gable you could n't have done that so well;'
and he answered, 'Yes, I could, there is n't a spout
I can't shin up, or a bit of this roof I have n't been
over.' "
So he did; but there is no spout near the little
room window."
There is a tree, and such an agile boy as Ben
could swing in and out easily. Now, Thorny, I
hate to think this of him, but it has happened
twice, and for his own sake I must stop it. If he
is planning to run away, money is a good thing to
have. And he may feel that it is his own; for you
know he asked me to put his wages in the bank,
and I did. He may not like to come to me for that,
because he can give no good reason for wanting it.
I 'm so troubled I really don't know what to do."
She looked troubled, and Thorny put his arms
about her as if to keep all worries but his own away
from her.
Don't you fret, Cely, dear; you leave it to me.
I'll fix him-ungrateful little scamp "
"That is not the way to begin. I 'm afraid you
will make him angry and hurt his feelings, and
then we can do nothing."
"Bother his feelings I shall just say, calmly and
coolly : 'Now, look here, Ben, hand over the money
you took out of my sister's drawer, and we '11 let
you off easy,' or something like that."
It would n't do, Thorny; his temper would be
up in a minute, and away he would go before we
could find out whether he was guilty or not. I wish
I knew how to manage."
Let me think," and Thorny leaned his chin on
the arm of the chair, staring hard at the knocker
as if he expected the lion's mouth to open with
words of counsel then and there.
By Jove, I do believe Ben took it! he broke
out suddenly; for when I went to his room this


LJULY,







UNDER THE LILACS.


morning to see why he did n't come and do my
boots, he shut the drawer in his bureau as quick as
a flash, and looked red and queer, for I did n't
knock, and sort of startled him."
"He would n't be likely to put stolen money
there. Ben is too wise for that."
He would n't keep it there, but he might be
looking at it and pitch it in when I called. He's
hardly spoken to me since, and when I asked him
what his flag was at half-mast for, he would n't
answer. Besides, you know in the reading this
afternoon he did n't listen, and when you asked
what he was thinking about, he colored up and
muttered something about Sanch. I tell you,
Celia, it looks bad-very bad," and Thorny shook
his head with a wise air.
It does, and yet we may be all wrong. Let us
wait a little and give the poor boy a chance to clear
himself before we speak. I 'd rather lose my money
than suspect him falsely."
How much was it? "
Eleven dollars; a one went first, and I supposed
I'd miscalculated somewhere when I took some out;
but when I missed a ten, I felt that I ought not to
let it pass."
"Look here, sister, you just put the case into
my hands and let me work it up. I wont say any-
thing to Ben till you give the word; but I 'll watch
him, and now my eyes are open, it wont be easy to
deceive me."
Thorny was evidently pleased with the new play
of detective, and intended to distinguish himself in
that line; but when Miss Celia asked how he meant
to begin, he could only respond with a blank ex-
pression: "Don't know! You give me the keys
and leave a bill or two in the drawer, and may be
I can find him out somehow."
So the keys were given, and the little dressing-
room where the old secretary stood was closely
watched for a day or two. Ben cheered up a trifle,
which looked as if he knew an eye was upon him,
but otherwise he went on as usual, and Miss Celia,
feeling a little guilty at even harboring a suspicion
of him, was kind and patient with his moods.
Thorny was very funny in the unnecessary mys-
tery and fuss he made ; his affectation of careless
indifference to Ben's movements and his clumsy
attempts to watch every one of them; his dodging
up and down stairs, ostentatious clanking of keys,
and the elaborate traps he set to catch his thief,
such as throwing his ball in at the dressing-room
window and sending Ben up the tree to get it, which
he did, thereby proving beyond a doubt that he
alone could have taken the money, Thorny thought.
Another deep discovery was, that the old drawer
was so shrunken that the lock could be pressed
down by slipping a knife-blade between the hasp
and socket.


Now it is as clear as day, and you'd better let
me speak," he said, full of pride as well as regret,
at this triumphant success of his first attempt as a
detective.
Not yet, and you need do nothing more. I 'm
afraid it was a mistake of mine to let you do this;
and if it has spoiled your friendship with Ben, I shall
be very sorry; for I do not think he is guilty,"
answered Miss Celia.
Why not? and Thorny looked annoyed.
I 've watched also, and he does n't act like a
deceitful boy. To-day I asked him if he wanted
any money, or should I put what I owe him with
the rest, and he looked me straight in the face with
such honest, grateful eyes, I could not doubt him
when he said: Keep it, please, I don't need any-
thing here, you are all so good to me.'"
"Now, Celia, don't you be soft-hearted. He's
a sly little dog, and knows my eye is on him.
When I asked him what he saw in the dressing-
room, after he brought out the ball, and looked
sharply at him, he laughed, and said: Only a
mouse,' as saucy as you please."
"Do set the trap there, I heard the mouse nib-
bling last night, and it kept me awake. We must
have a cat or we shall be overrun."
Well, shall I give Ben a good blowing up, or will
you ? asked Thorny, scorning such poor prey as
mice, and bound to prove that he was in the right.
I '11 let you know what I have decided in the

morning. Be kind to Ben, meantime, or I shall feel
as if I had done you harm in letting you watch him."
So it was left for that day, and by the next, Miss
Celia had made up her mind to speak to Ben. She
was just going down to breakfast when the sound
of loud voices made her pause and listen. It came
from Ben's room, where the two boys seemed to be
disputing about something.
I hope Thorny has kept his promise," she
thought, and hurried through the back entry, fear-
ing a general explosion.
Ben's chamber was at the end, and she could see
and hear what was going on before she was near
enough to interfere. Ben stood against his closet
door looking as fierce and red as a turkey-cock;
Thorny sternly confronted him, saying in an excited
tone, and with a threatening gesture: "You are
hiding something in there, and you can't deny it."
"I don't."
Better not; I insist on seeing it."
Well, you wont."
What have you been : 1._.I, now?"
Did n't steal it,-used to be mine,-I only took
it when I wanted it."
I know what that means. You'd better give
it back or I'11 make you."
Stop cried a third voice, as Thorny put out
his arm to clutch Ben, who looked ready to defend







UNDER THE LILACS.


himself to the last gasp. Boys, I will settle this
affair. Is there anything hidden in the closet,
Ben ?" and Miss Celia came between the belliger-
ent parties with her one hand up to part them.
Thorny fell back at once, looking half ashamed
-7
.--- ---"7. L._ "



I ,' i L.'


MISS CELIA UECOI

of his heat, and Ben briefly answered, with a gulp
as if shame or anger made it hard to speak steadily :
Yes 'm, there is."
Does it belong to you ? "
"Yes 'm, it does."
"'Where did you get it? "
"Up to Squire's."
That's a lie muttered Thorny to himself.
Ben's eye flashed, and his fist doubled up in spite
of him, but he restrained himself out of respect to
Miss Celia, who looked puzzled, as she asked


another question, not quite sure how to proceed
with the investigation: Is it money, Ben ?"
No 'm, it is n't."
Then what can it be ?"
"Meow!" answered a fourth voice from the





,I I.
]i'i

;, fl










-6'










ii' IIII













MES PEACE-MAKER.
closet, and as Ben flung open the door a gray
kitten walked out, purring with satisfaction at her
release.
Miss Celia fell into a chair and laughed till her
eyes were full; Thorny looked foolish, and Ben
folded his arms, curled up his nose, and regarded
his accuser with calm defiance, while pussy sat
down to wash her face as if her morning toilette
had been interrupted by her sudden abduction.
"That's all very well, but it doesn't mend
matters much, so you need n't laugh, Celia," began


[JULY,






UNDER THE LILACS.


Thorny, recovering himself, and stubbornly bent on
sifting the case to the bottom, now he had begun.
"Well, it would, if you 'd let a feller alone. She
said she wanted a cat, so I went and got the one
they gave me when I was at the Squire's. I went
early and took her without asking, and I had a right
to," explained Ben, much aggrieved by having his
surprise spoiled.
It was very kind of you, and I'm glad to have
this nice kitty. Give her some breakfast, and then
we will shut her up in my room to catch the mice
that plague me," said Miss Celia, picking up the
little cat, and wondering how she would get her
two angry boys safely down-stairs.
The dressing-room, she means; you know the
way, and you don't need keys to get in," added
Thorny, with such sarcastic emphasis that Ben felt
some insult was intended, and promptly resented it.
You wont get me to climb any more trees after
your balls, and my cat wont catch any of your
mice, so you need n't ask me."
Cats don't catch thieves, and they are what
I'm after!"
"What do you mean by that?" fiercely de-
manded Ben.
Celia has lost some money out of her drawer,
and you wont let me see what's in yours; so I
thought, perhaps, you'd got it!" blurted out
Thorny, finding it hard to say the words, angry as
he was, for the face opposite did not look like a
guilty one.
For a minute, Ben did not seem to understand
him, plainly as he spoke; then he turned an angry
scarlet, and, with a reproachful glance at his mis-
tress, opened the little drawer so that both could
see all that it contained.
"They aint anything; but I'm fond of 'em-
they are all I 've got-I was afraid he 'd laugh at
me that time, so I would n't let him look-it was
father's birthday, and I felt bad about him and
Sanch "
Ben's indignant voice got more and more indis-
tinct as he stumbled on, and broke down over the
last words. He did not cry, however, but threw
back his little treasures as if half their sacredness
was gone; and, making a strong effort at self-
control, faced around, asking of Miss Celia, with a
grieved look :
Did you think I 'd steal anything of yours ? "
I tried not to, Ben, but what could I do ? It was
gone, and you the only stranger about the place.'
Was n't there any one to think bad of but
me ?" he said, so sorrowfully that Miss Celia made
up her mind on the spot that he was as innocent
of the theft as the kitten now biting her buttons,
no other refreshment being offered.
"Nobody, for I know my girls well. Yet, eleven
dollars are gone, and I cannot imagine where or
VOL. V.-40.


how; for both drawer and door are always locked,
because my papers and valuables are in that room."
What a lot! But how could I get it if it was
locked up?" and Ben looked as if that question
was unanswerable.
Folks that can climb in at windows for a ball, can
go the same way for money, and get it easy enough
when they 've only to pry open an old lock "
Thorny's look and tone seemed to make plain to
Ben all that they had been suspecting, and, being
innocent, he was too perplexed and unhappy to
defend himself. His eye went from one to the
other, and, seeing doubt in both faces, his boyish
heart sunk within him; for he could prove noth-
ing, and his first impulse was to go away at once.
"I can't say anything, only that I didn't take
the money. You wont believe it, so I'd better go
back where I come from. They were n't so kind,
but they trusted me, and knew I would n't steal a
cent. You may keep my money, and the kitty,
too; I don't want 'em," and, snatching up his hat,
Ben would have gone straight away, if Thorny had
not barred his passage.
Come, now, don't be mad. Let's talk it over,
and if I'm wrong I '11 take it all back and ask your
pardon," he said, in a friendly tone, rather scared
at the consequences of his first attempt, though as
sure as ever that he was right.
It would break my heart to have you go in
that way, Ben. Stay at least till your innocence is
proved, then no one can doubt what you say now."
"Don't see how it can be proved," answered
Ben, appeased by her evident desire to trust him.
We 'll try as well as we know how, and the first
thing we will do is to give that old secretary a good
rummage from top to bottom. I've done it once,
but it is just possible that the bills may have slipped
out of sight. Come, now, I can't rest till I 've done
all I can to comfort you and convince Thorny."
Miss Celia rose as she spoke, and led the way to
the dressing-room, which had no outlet except
through her chamber. Still holding his hat, Ben
followed with a troubled face, and Thorny brought
up the rear, doggedly determined to keep his eye
on "the little scamp till the matter was satis-
factorily cleared up. Miss Celia had made her
proposal more to soothe the feelings of one boy
and to employ the superfluous energies of the
other, than in the expectation of throwing any light
upon the mystery; for she was sadly puzzled by
Ben's manner, and much regretted that she had
let her brother meddle in the matter.
There," she said, unlocking the door with the
key Thorny reluctantly gave up to her, "this is
the room and that is the drawer on the right. The
lower ones have seldom been opened since we
came, and hold only some of papa's old books.
Those upper ones you may turn out and investi-


l878.1







UNDER THE LILACS.


gate as much as you Bless me! here 's
something in your trap, Thorny! and Miss Celia
gave a little skip as she nearly trod on a long, gray
tail, which hung out of the hole now filled by a
plump mouse.
But her brother was intent on more serious things,
and merely pushed the trap aside as he pulled out
the drawer with an excited gesture, which sent it
and all its contents clattering to the floor.
Confound the old thing It always stuck so I
had to give a jerk. Now, there it is, topsy-turvy !"
and Thorny looked much disgusted at his own
awkwardness.
No harm done; I left nothing of value in it.
Look back there, Ben, and see if there is room for
a paper to get worked over the top of the drawer.
I felt quite a crack, but I don't believe it is possible
for things to slip out; the place was never full
enough to overflow in any way."
Miss Celia spoke to Ben, who was kneeling down
to pick up the scattered papers, among which were
two marked dollar bills,-Thorny's bait for the
thief. Ben looked into the dusty recess, and then
put in his hand, saying carelessly :
There 's nothing but a bit of red stuff."
"My old pen-wiper Why, what's the
matter?" asked Miss Celia, as Ben dropped the
handful of what looked like rubbish.
"Something warm and wiggly inside of it,"
answered Ben, stooping to examine the contents
of the little scarlet bundle. "Baby mice! Aint
they funny? Look just like mites of young pigs.
We'll have to kill 'em if you've caught their
mammy," he said, forgetting his own trials in
boyish curiosity about his find."
Miss Celia stooped also, and gently poked the
red cradle with her finger; for the tiny mice were
nestling deeper into the fluff with small squeaks of
alarm. Suddenly she cried out: "Boys, boys,
I've found the thief! Look here, pull out these
bits and see if they wont make up my lost bills."
Down went the motherless babies as four ruthless
hands pulled apart their cosey nest, and there,
among the nibbled fragments, appeared enough
finely printed, greenish paper, to piece out parts
of two bank bills. A large cypher and part of a
figure one were visible, and that accounted for the
ten; but though there were other bits, no figures
could be found, and they were willing to take the
other bill on trust.
"Now, then, am I a thief and a liar? demanded
Ben, pointing proudly to the tell-tale letters spread
forth on the table, over which all three had been
eagerly bending.
"No; I beg your pardon, and I'm very sorry
that we did n't look more carefully before we spoke,
then we all should have been spared this pain."
All right, old fellow, forgive and forget. I '11


never think hard of you again,-on my honor I
wont."
As they spoke, Miss Celia and her brother held
out their hands frankly and heartily. Ben shook
both, but with a difference; for he pressed the soft
one gratefully, remembering that its owner had
always been good to him; but the brown paw he
gripped with a vengeful squeeze that made Thorny
pull it away in a hurry, exclaiming, good-naturedly,
in spite of both physical and mental discomfort:
Come, Ben, don't you bear malice; for you 've
got the laugh on your side, and we feel pretty
small. I do, anyway; for, after my fidgets, all
I've caught is a mouse "
"And her family. I 'm so relieved I'm almost
sorry the poor little mother is dead-she and her
babies were so happy in the old pen-wiper," said
Miss Celia, hastening to speak merrily, for Ben
still looked indignant, and she was much grieved
at what had happened.
A pretty expensive house," began Thorny,
looking about for the interesting orphans, who had
been left on the floor while their paper-hangings.
were examined.
No further anxiety need be felt for them, how-
ever, Kitty had come upon the scene; and as judge,
jury, and prisoner, turned to find the little wit-
nesses, they beheld the last pink mite going down
Pussy's throat in one mouthful.
I call that summary justice,-the whole family
executed on the spot! Give Kit the mouse also,
and let us go to breakfast. I feel as if I had found
my appetite, now this worry is off my mind," said
Miss Celia, laughing so infectiously that Ben had
to join in spite of himself, as she took his arm and
led him away with a look which mutely asked his
pardon over again.
Rather lively for a funeral procession," said
Thorny, following with the trap in his hand and
Puss at his heels, adding, to comfort his pride as a
detective: Well, I said I'd catch the thief, and
I have, though it is rather a small one "

CHAPTER XVII.
BETTY'S BRAVERY.
"CELIA, I've a notion that we ought to give
Ben something. A sort of peace-offering, you
know; for he feels dreadfully hurt about our sus-
pecting him," said Thorny, at dinner that day.
I see he does, though he tries to seem as bright
and pleasant as ever. I do not wonder, and I've
been thinking what I could do to soothe his feel-
ings. Can you suggest anything?"
"Cuff-buttons. I saw some jolly ones over at
Berryville,-oxidized silver, with dogs' heads on
them, yellow eyes, and all as natural as could be.
Those, now, would just suit him for his go-to-






UNDER THE LILACS.


meeting white shirts,-neat, appropriate, and in
memorial."
Miss Celia could not help laughing, it was such
a boyish suggestion; but she agreed to it, think-
ing Thorny knew best, and hoping the yellow-eyed
dogs would be as balm to Ben's wounds.
"Well, dear, you may give those, and Lita shall
give the little whip with a horse's foot for a handle,
if it is not gone. I saw it at the harness shop in
town, and Ben admired it so much that I planned
to give it to him on his birthday."
"That will tickle him immensely; and if you'd
just let him put brown tops to my old boots and
stick a cockade in his hat when he sits up behind
the phaeton, he'd be a happy fellow!" laughed
Thorny, who had discovered that one of Ben's
ambitions was to be a tip-top groom."
No, thank you; those things are out of place in
America, and would be absurd in a small country
place like this. His blue suit and straw hat please
me better for a boy, though a nicer little groom,
in livery or out, no one could desire, and you may
tell him I said so."
I will, and he '11 look as proud as Punch; for
he thinks every word you say worth a dozen from
any one else. But wont you give him something?
Just some little trifle, to show that we are both eating
humble pie, feeling sorry about the mouse money."
I shall give him a set of school-books, and try
to get him ready to begin when vacation is over.
An education is the best present we can make him,
and I want you to help me fit him to enter as well
as we can. Bab and Betty, began, little dears,-
lent him their books and taught all they knew ; so
Ben got a taste, and, with the right encourage-
ment, would like to go on, I am sure."
That's so like you, Celia. Always thinking
of the best thing and doing it handsomely. I'l1
help like a house a-fire, if he will let me ; but, all
day, he 's been as stiff as a poker, so I don't believe
he forgives me a bit."
"He will in time, and if you are kind and patient
he will be glad to have you help him; I shall make
it a sort of favor to me on his part, to let you see
to his lessons, now and then. It will be quite true,
,for I don't want you to touch your Latin or algebra
till cool weather; teaching him will be play to you."
Miss Celia's last words made her brother unbend
his brows, for he longed to get at his books again,
and the idea of being tutor to his man-servant"
did not altogether suit him.
I 'll tool him along at a great pace, if he will
only go. Geography and arithmetic shall be my
share, and you may have the writing and spelling;
it gives me the fidgets to set copies and hear children
make a mess of words. Shall I get the books when
I buy the other things ? Can I go this afternoon ? "
"Yes, here is the list, Bab gave it to me. You


can go if you will come home early and have your
tooth filled."
Gloom fell at once upon Thorny's beaming face,
and he gave such a shrill whistle that his sister
jumped in her chair, as she added, persuasively:
It wont hurt a bit, now, and the longer you
leave it the worse it will be. Dr. Mann is ready at
any time, and once over you will be at peace for
months. Come, my hero, give your orders, and
take one of the girls to support you in the trying
hour. Have Bab, she will enjoy it and amuse you
with her chatter."
"As if I needed girls around for such a trifle as
that returned Thorny, with a shrug, though he
groaned inwardly at the prospect before him, as
most of us do on such occasions. "I wouldn't
take Bab at any price; she 'd only get into some
scrape and upset the whole plan. Betty is the
chicken for me,-a real little lady, and as nice and
purry as a kitten."
"Very well; ask her mother, and take good care
of her. Let her tuck her dolly in, and she will be
contented anywhere. There 's a fine air, and the
awning is on the phaeton, so you wont feel the sun.
Start about three, and drive carefully."
Betty was charmed to go, for Thorny was a sort
of prince in her eyes, and to be invited to such a
grand expedition was an overwhelming honor.
Bab was not surprised, for, since Sancho's loss, she
had felt herself in disgrace and been unusually
meek; Ben let her "severely alone," which much
afflicted her, for he was her great admiration, and
had been pleased to express his approbation of her
agility and courage so often that she was ready to
attempt any fool-hardy feat to recover his regard.
But vainly did she risk her neck jumping off the
highest beams in the barn, trying to keep her
balance standing on the donkey's back, and leap-
ing the lodge gate at a bound; Ben vouchsafed no
reward by a look, a smile, a word of commendation,
and Bab felt that nothing but Sancho's return
would ever restore the broken friendship.
Into faithful Betty's bosom did she pour forth her
remorseful lamentations, often bursting out with
the passionate exclamation, If I could only find
Sanch and give him back to Ben, I would n't care
if I tumbled down and broke all my legs right
away Such abandonment of woe made a deep
impression on Betty, and she fell into the way of
consoling her sister by cheerful prophecies and a
firm belief that the organ-man would yet appear
with the lost darling.
I 've got five cents of my berry money, and I '11
buy you a orange if I see any," promised Betty,
stopping to kiss Bab, as the phaeton came to the
door, and Thorny handed in a young lady whose
white frock was so stiff with starch that it crackled
like paper.









"Lemons will do if oranges are gone. I like'em half an hour was so absorbed in her book that poor
to suck with lots of sugar," answered Bab, feeling Thorny might have groaned dismally without
that the sour sadly predominated in hercupjust now. disturbing her.
"Don't she look sweet, the dear murmured "Done now, directly; only a trifle of polishing
Mrs. Moss, proudly surveying her youngest. off and a look round," said Dr. Mann, at last, and
She certainly did, sitting under the fringed canopy Thorny, with a yawn that nearly rent him asunder,
with "Belinda," all in her best, upon her lap, as called out:
she turned to smile and nod, with a face so bright Thank goodness! Pack up, Bettykin."
and winsome under the little blue hat, that it was I'm all ready," and, shutting her book with a
no wonder mother and sister thought there never start, she slipped down from the easy-chair in a
was such a perfect child as "our Betty." great hurry.
Dr. Mann was busy when they arrived, but would But looking round took time, and before the
be ready in an hour, so they did their shopping at circuit of Thorny's mouth was satisfactorily made,
once, having made sure of the whip as they came Betty had become absorbed by a more interesting
along. Thorny added some candy to Bab's lemon, tale than even the immortal Bluebeard." A noise
and Belinda had a cake, which her mamma oblig- of children's voices in the narrow alley-way behind
ingly ate for her. Betty thought that Aladdin's the house attracted her attention; the long window
palace could not have been more splendid than the opened directly on the yard, and the gate swung in
jeweler's shop where the canine cuff-buttons were the wind. Curious as Fatima, Betty went to look;
bought; but when they came to the book-store she but all she saw was a group of excited boys peep-
forgot gold, silver, and precious stones, to revel in ing between the bars of another gate further down.
picture-books, while Thorny selected Ben's modest What's the matter?" she asked of two small
school outfit. Seeing her delight, and feeling par- girls, who stood close by her, longing but not dar-
ticularly lavish with plenty of money in his pocket, ing to approach the scene of action.
the young gentleman completed the child's bliss "Boys chasing a great black cat, I believe,"
by telling her to choose whichever one she liked answered one child.
best out of the pile of Walter Crane's toy-books "Want to come and see?" added the other,
lying in bewildering colors before her. politely extending the invitation to the stranger.
This one ; Bab always wanted to see the dread- The thought of a cat in trouble would have
ful cupboard, and there 's a picture of it here," nerved Betty to face a dozen boys, so she followed
answered Betty, clasping a gorgeous copy of Blue- at once, meeting several lads hurrying away on
beard" to the little bosom, which still heaved with some important errand, to judge from their anxious
the rapture of looking at that delicious mixture of countenances.
lovely Fatimas in pale azure gowns, pink Sister "Hold tight, Jimmy, and let 'em peek, if they
Annes on the turret top, crimson tyrants, and yellow want to. He can't hurt anybody now," said one of
brothers with forests of plumage blowing wildly the dusty huntsmen, who sat on the wide coping of
from their mushroom-shaped caps. the wall, while two others held the gate, as if a
"Very good; there you are, then. Now, come cat could only escape that way.
on, for the fun is over and the grind begins," said You peek first, Susy, and see if it looks nice,"
Thorny, marching away to his doom, with his said one little girl, boosting her friend so that she
tongue in his tooth and trepidation in his manly could look through the bars in the upper part of
breast, the gate.
"Shall I shut my eyes and hold your head?" "No; it's only an ugly old dog!" responded
quavered devoted Betty, as they went up the steps Susy, losing all interest at once, and descending
so many reluctant feet had mounted before them. with a bounce.
"Nonsense, child, never mind me! You look "He's mad, and Jud's gone to get his gun so
out of window and amuse yourself; we shall not we can shoot him," called out one mischievous boy,
be long, I guess," and in went Thorny, silently resenting the contempt expressed for their capture.
hoping that the dentist had been suddenly called Aint, neither howled another lad from his
away, or some person with an excruciating tooth- perch. Mad dogs wont drink, and this one is
ache would be waiting to take ether, and so give lapping out of a tub of water "
our young man an excuse for postponing his job. "Well, he may be, and we don't know him, and
But no; Dr. Mann was quite at leisure, and, he has n't got any muzzle on, and the police will
full of smiling interest, awaited his victim, laying kill him if Jud don't," answered the sanguinary
forth his unpleasant little tools with the exasperat- youth who had first started the chase after the poor
ing alacrity of his kind. Glad to be released from animal, which had come limping into town, so evi-
any share in the operation, Betty retired to the dently a lost dog that no one felt any hesitation in
back window to be as far away as possible, and for stoning him.


UNDER THE LILACS.


[JULY,







UNDER THE LILACS.


We must go right home; my mother is
dreadful 'fraid of mad dogs, and so is yours," said
Susy; and, having satisfied their curiosity, the
young ladies prudently retired.
But Betty had not had her "peep," and could
not resist one look; for she had heard of these
unhappy animals, and thought Bab would like to
know how they looked. So she stood on tip-toe
and got a good view of a dusty, brownish dog,
lying on the grass close by, with his tongue hang-


THE STRANGE DOG.
ing out while he panted, as if exhausted by fatigue
and fear, for he still cast apprehensive glances at
the wall which divided him from his tormentors.
"His eyes are just like Sanch's," said Betty to
herself, unconscious that she spoke aloud, till she
saw the creature prick up his ears and half rise, as
if he had been called.
"He looks as if he knew me, but it is n't our
Sancho; he was a lovely dog." Betty said that to
the little boy peeping in beside her; but before he
could make any reply, the brown beast stood
straight up with an inquiring bark, while his eyes
shone like topaz, and the short tail wagged excitedly.
"Why, that 's just the way Sanch used to do "
cried Betty, bewildered by the familiar ways of this
unfamiliar-looking dog.


As if the repetition of his name settled his own
doubts, he leaped toward the gate and thrust a
pink nose between the bars, with a howl of recog-
nition as Betty's face was more clearly seen. The
boys tumbled precipitately from their perches, and
the little girl fell back alarmed, yet could not bear
to run away and leave those imploring eyes plead-
ing to her through the bars so eloquently.
He acts just like our dog, but I don't see how it
can be him. Sancho, Sancho, is it truly you?"
called Betty, at her wits'
end what to do.
"- Bow, wow, wow!"
answered the well-known
bark, and the little tail
.LjC *t.. did all it could to em-
phasize the sound, while
the eyes were so full of
-7:.l dumb love and joy, the
1 child could not refuse to
['i, ,i|ji ii believe that this ugly
S'. stray was their own
', '" i' Sancho strangely trans-
,' ''''r' .formed.
ik I| y t"All of a sudden, the
i''' thought rushed into her
li- mind, "How glad Ben
S-i would be!-and Bab
S 1' 'i l would feel all happy
'! again. I must carry him
home."
Never stopping to
think of danger, and for-
S getting all her doubts,
Betty caught the gate
S handle out of Jimmy's
Grasp, exclaiming eager-
Sly: "He is our dog!
Let me go in; I aint
afraid."
S" Not till Jud comes
back; he told us we
must n't," answered the astonished Jimmy, think-
ing the little girl as mad as the dog.
With a confused idea that the unknown Jud had
gone for a gun to shoot Sanch, Betty gave a des-
perate pull at the latch and ran into the yard, bent
on saving her friend. That it was a friend there
could be no further question; for, though the
creature rushed at her as if about to devour her at
a mouthful, it was only to roll ecstatically at her
feet, lick her hands, and gaze into her face, trying
to pant out the welcome which he could not utter.
An older and more prudent person would have
waited to make sure before venturing in; but con-
fiding Betty knew little of the danger which she
might have run; her heart spoke more quickly
than her head, and, not stopping to have the truth







UNDER THE LILACS.


proved, she took the brown dog on trust, and found
it was indeed dear Sanch.
Sitting on the grass, she hugged him close, care-
less of tumbled hat, dusty paws on her clean frock,
or a row of strange boys staring from the wall.
Darling doggy, where have you been so long?"
she cried, the great thing sprawling across her
lap, as if he could not get near enough to his brave
little protector. Did they make you black and
beat you, dear ? Oh, Sanch, where is your tail-
your pretty tail?"
A plaintive growl and a pathetic wag was all the
answer he could make to these tender inquiries;
for never would the story of his wrongs be known,
and never could the glory of his doggish beauty be
restored. Betty was trying to comfort him with
pats and praises, when a new face appeared at the
gate, and Thorny's authoritative voice called out:
"Betty Moss, what on earth are you doing in
there with that dirty beast? "
It's Sanch, it's Sanch Oh, come and see "
shrieked Betty, flying up to lead forth her prize.
But the gate was held fast, for some one said the
words, Mad dog," and Thorny was very naturally
alarmed, because he had already seen one. "Don't
stay there another minute. Get up on that bench
and I '11 pull you over," directed Thorny, mounting
the wall to rescue his charge in hot haste; for the
dog did certainly behave queerly, limping hurriedly
to and fro, as if anxious to escape. No wonder,
when Sancho heard a voice he knew, and recognized
another face, yet did not meet as kind a welcome
as before.
"No, I'm not coming out till he does. It is
Sanch, and I'm going to take him home to Ben,"
answered Betty, decidedly, as she wet her hand-
kerchief in the rain water to bind up the swollen
paw that had traveled many miles to rest in her
little hand again.
"You're crazy, child That is no more Ben's
dog than I am."
See if it isn't cried Betty, perfectly unshaken
in her faith; and, recalling the words of command
as well as she could, she tried to put Sancho
through his little performance, as the surest proof
that she was right. The poor fellow did his best,
weary and footsore though he was; but when it
came to taking his tail in his mouth to waltz, he
gave it up, and, dropping down, hid his face in
his paws, as he always did when any of his tricks
failed. The act was almost pathetic now, for one
of the paws was bandaged, and his whole attitude
expressed the humiliation of a broken spirit.
That touched Thorny, and, quite convinced both
of the dog's sanity and identity, he sprung down
from the wall with Ben's own whistle, which glad-
dened Sancho's longing ear as much as the boy's
rough caresses comforted his homesick heart.


"Now, let's carry him right home, and surprise
Ben. Wont he be pleased?" said Betty, so in
earnest that she tried to lift the big brute in spite
of his protesting yelps.
You are a little trump to find him out in spite
of all the horrid things that have been done to him.
We must have a rope to lead him, for he 's got no
collar and no muzzle. He has got friends though,
and I'd like to see any one touch him now. Out
of the way, there, boys !" Looking as commanding
as a drum-major, Thorny cleared a passage, and
with one arm about his neck, Betty proudly led her
treasure forth, magnanimously ignoring his late
foes, and keeping his eye fixed on the faithful
friend whose tender little heart had known him in
spite of all disguises.
I found him, sir," and the lad who had been
most eager for the shooting, stepped forward to
claim any reward that might be offered for the now
valuable victim.
"I kept him safe till she came," added the
jailer Jimmy, speaking for himself.
I said he wasn't mad," cried a third, feeling
that his discrimination deserved approval.
Jud aint my brother," said the fourth, eager
to clear his skirts from all offense.
But all of you chased and stoned him, I sup-
pose ? You 'd better look out or you '11 get reported
to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Animals."
With this awful and mysterious threat, Thorny
slammed the doctor's gate in the faces of the mer-
cenary youths, nipping their hopes in the bud, and
teaching them a good lesson.
After one astonished stare, Lita accepted Sancho
without demur, and they greeted one another
cordially, nose to nose, instead of shaking hands.
Then the dog nestled into his old place under the
linen duster with a grunt of intense content, and
soon fell fast asleep, quite worn out with fatigue.
No Roman conqueror bearing untold treasures
with him, ever approached the Eternal City feeling
richer or prouder than did Miss Betty as she rolled
rapidly toward the little brown house with the cap-
tive won by her own arms. Poor Belinda was
forgotten in a corner, Blue-beard" was thrust
under the cushion, and the lovely lemon was squeezed
before its time by being sat upon; for all the child
could think of, was Ben's delight, Bab's remorseful
burden lifted off, Ma's surprise, and Miss Celia's
pleasure. She could hardly realize the happy fact,
and kept peeping under the cover to be sure that
the dear dingy bunch at her feet was truly there.
"I'll tell you how we 'll do it," said Thorny,
breaking a long silence as Betty composed herself
with an irrepressible wriggle of delight after one of
these refreshing peeps. We'll keep Sanch hid-
den, and smuggle him into Ben's old room at your






UNDER THE LILACS. 599


house. Then I '11 drive on to the barn, and not
say a word, but send Ben to get something out of
that room. You just let him in, to see what he 'll
do. I '11 bet you a dollar he wont know his own
dog."
I don't believe I can keep from screaming right
out when I see him, but I'll try. Oh, wont it be
fun "-and Betty clapped her hands in joyful an-
ticipation of that exciting moment.
A nice little plan, but Master Thorny forgot the
keen senses of the amiable animal snoring peace-
fully among his boots, and, when they stopped at
the Lodge, he had barely time to say in a whisper,
" Ben 's coming; cover Sanch and let me get him
in quick," before the dog was out of the phaeton
like a bombshell, and the approaching boy went
down as if shot, for Sancho gave one leap and the
two rolled over and over, with a shout and a bark
of rapturous recognition.
Who is hurt ? asked Mrs. Moss, running out
with floury hands uplifted in alarm.
"Is it a bear?" cried Bab, rushing after her,
egg-beater in hand, for a dancing bear was the
desire of her heart.
Sancho 's found Sancho 's found shouted
Thorny, throwing up his hat like a lunatic.
Found, found, found echoed Betty, dancing
wildly about as if she too had lost her little wits.
Where? How? When? Who did it?" asked
Mrs. Moss, clapping her dusty hands delightedly.
It is n't; it's an old dirty brown thing," stam-
mered Bab, as the dog came uppermost for a
minute, and then rooted into Ben's jacket as if he
smelt a woodchuck and was bound to have him
out directly.
Then Thorny, with many interruptions from
Betty, poured forth the wondrous tale, to which
Bab and her mother listened breathlessly, while
the muffins burned as black as a coal, and nobody
cared a bit.
"My precious lamb, how did you dare to do
such a thing ? exclaimed Mrs. Moss, hugging the
small heroine with mingled admiration and alarm.
I 'd have dared, and slapped those horrid boys,
too. I wish I'd gone and Bab felt that she had
forever lost the chance of distinguishing herself.
Who cut his tail off?" demanded Ben, in a
menacing tone, as he came uppermost in his turn,
dusty, red and breathless, but radiant.
The wretch who stole him, I suppose; and he
deserves to be hung," answered Thorny, hotly.
If ever I catch him, I '11-I'11 cut his nose off,"


roared Ben, with such a vengeful glare that Sanch
barked fiercely, and it was well that the unknown
"wretch" was not there, for it would have gone
hardly with him, since even gentle Betty frowned,
while Bab brandished the egg-beater menacingly,
and their mother indignantly declared that "it was
too bad "
Relieved by this general outburst, they composed
their outraged feelings; and while the returned
wanderer went from one to another to receive a
tender welcome from each, the story of his recovery
was more calmly told. Ben listened with his eye de-
vouring the injured dog; and when Thorny paused,
he turned to the little heroine, saying solemnly, as
he laid her hand with his own on Sancho's head:
"Betty Moss, I'll never forget what you did;
from this minute half of Sanch is your truly own,
and if I die you shall have the whole of him," and
Ben sealed the precious gift with a sounding kiss
on either chubby cheek.
Betty was so deeply touched by this noble be-
quest, that the blue eyes filled and would have
overflowed if Sanch had not politely offered his
tongue like a red pocket-handkerchief, and so
made her laugh the drops away, while Bab set the
rest off by saying, gloomily :
I mean to play with all the mad dogs I can
find; then folks will think I'm smart and give me
nice things."
Poor old Bab, I '11 forgive you now, and lend
you my half whenever you want it," said Ben, feel-
ing at peace now with all mankind, including girls
who tagged.
Come and show him to Celia," begged Thorny,
eager to fight his battles over again.
Better wash him up first; he 's a sight to see,
poor thing," suggested Mrs. Moss, as she ran in,
suddenly remembering her muffins.
It will take a lot of washings to get that brown
stuff off. See, his pretty pink skin is all stained
with it. We '11 bleach him out, and his curls will
grow, and he 'll be as good as ever-all but --"
Ben could not finish, and a general wail went
up for the departed tassel that would never wave
proudly in the breeze again.
I'll buy him a new one. Now form the pro-
cession and let us go in style," said Thorny, cheerily,
as he swung Betty to his shoulder and marched
away whistling "Hail the conquering hero comes,"
whila Ben and his Bow-wow followed arm-in-arm,
and Bab brought up the rear, banging on a milk-
pan with the egg-beater.


(To be continued.)





600


THE YANKEE BOYS THAT DID N'T NUMBER TEN.


THE YANKEE BOYS THAT DID N'T NUMBER TEN.
BY W. M. BICKNELL.








'T Is morning, and no boy is seen Ah! there comes Sam along the lane,
In all the street, with play and fun. With searching eyes, and he is one.



h0- -i7



The road to school is lone for him; But Ben appears just there away,
What could a single fellow do? And he with book and slate makes two.


2 --


71.


Yet not enough for jolly sport; Why, there is Tom, 'most out of breath I
It's plain more lads there ought to be. And now, together, they are three.


C L- '




Then on they run and skip and frisk, Dan trips along with joyous shout,-
With eager looks that seek for more; Now reckon, and you'll find them four.




_T,3'3


They spring and hurry o'er the ground,
All brave to wade or swim or dive.


"Mother, there go the boys," cries Ed;
No sooner said than there were five.


I






1878.] THE YANKEE BOYS THAT DID N'T NUMBER TEN. 6oi


O'er hedge and rocks and field they run; And now, as they rush on, we see,
"Hello!" cries Ben, "see, there is Evan! Like wonders of the world, they're seven.


Time quickly flew down by the shore,
When boys and raft had fun so fine.


The crew had all put out from land,
And out put teacher, Mr. Glenn,


But hark Too plainly now they heard
The clock That made the doleful nine.


With swinging arm and noisy bell,-
No boy was he to make the ten!


As if a bird had carried word, To join the rest leaped merry Will,
Like birds the boys thus congregate; And, puffing, swelled the count to eight







602 THE BARBECUE.


THE BARBECUE.
(The Toklrbtl" Bad Boy again.)

BY SARAH WINTER KELLOGG.


/ ARLEY came bolting into Aunt
Silvy's cabin. This is what he
usually did when things vexed
him.
It's mean I he said, snatch-
ing off his large straw hat and
wiping the perspiration from his brow.
Aunt Silvy was peeling peaches for dry-
ing--great, luscious Indian peaches, too,
beet-red from down to pit.
Seems like yer's always fin'in' something'
mean," she said, as the long peeling dropped into
the pan, and she proceeded to stone the peach,
which looked as though pared by machinery.
"What's de matter now? Something' 'bout de
barb'cue ? "
Yes, the committee's been 'roun' here to see
what Pa 'd subscribe, an' he signed for o-n-e
shoat Think how it'll look !-' Wm. Coleman,
one shoat.' An' the paper's goin' all over the
county; everybody 'il see it,-General Bradshaw,
and Mandy, and all the girls If I could n't give
anything but a mean ole shoat, I would n't put my
name down 't all."
Neber had no sich puffawmances at yer gran-
paw Thompson's. He uster su'scribe a heap er
deaf an' dum' an'mals. I 'members one Foaf July
he su'scribed,-lem me see ef I kin 'member what
all he did su'scribe. Thar wus two oxes an' 'leven
milk cows, an' "
I don't b'lieverit," Marley interrupted.
It's de bawn troof," said Aunt Silvy, solemnly.
I 'members dar wus n't nuff cows lef' ter git milk
fer de white folks' coffee nex' mawnin arter dat
barb'cue. But, law, Mah'sr Mawley dat wus n't
haf' yer granpaw Thompson su'scribed. Thar wus
fou'teen fat shoats, an'-lem me see how many
tuckies; twenty-fou' tuckies, thutty-fou' Muscovy
ducks, fawty chickuns, seventeen geese an' ganders,
an' "
Marley gave a long whistle.
"Well, if that is n't the biggest story that ever I
heard sence I was created "
He did so. I could prove it by yer maw, but
her wus sich a little gal when it happened, her's
fawgot. I 'members we all did n't hab no geese
ter pick arter dat barb'cue, 'cept one ole gander;
an' I 'members goin' to de hen-house, an' seeing'
not a sol'tary human critter lef' in dat dar hen-
house 'cept de ole saddle-back rooster. An', law !


I fawgot de hams,-a heap er hams,-more'n a
hundud; an' de sheeps-law I dunno how many
sheeps dar wus."
An' did n't he subscribe a team of mules an' a
half-dozen negroes ?" said Marley. "An' I want
to know where my gran'pa got all the wagons to
haul all the things to the barbecue ? I reckon it
would take fifty wagons to do it; I 'm goin' to ask
Pa."
Law I would n't go pesterin' master 'bout it.
I neber say yer granpaw tuck um ter de barb'cue;
I say he su'scribed um."
Then he did n't pay what he subscribed ? "
Shucks! Mah'sr Mawley. I can't make yer
un'erstan' nuffin. Yer neber did know nuffin
sca'cely."
I know why they keep the Fourth of July.
You don't, do you ? "
"Of cou'se Law, chile! I's scendedd from a
Rev'lution cullud genulmon what wus present at
de fuss Foaf July dar ever wus."
Marley laughed and laughed at this till Aunt
Silvy began to sulk. He could n't afford to have
her offended; he wanted her to do something for
him. So he checked his laughter, and said:
You know everybody in the county is invited
to the barbecue."
Ob cou'se. De suckit-riders gives it out at all
de 'p'intments. Ev'ry pusson's 'vited, cullud pus-
sons an' white folks. Thar '11 be a heap er folks
thar."
Now, look yere, Aunt Silvy; you b'long to
me, you know. You always said -- "
Yer b'longs ter me, mow like; an' yer maw
b'longs ter me, too. I nussed her when she wus a
baby, an' yer too. Law! I owns yer bofe."
Well, then, I'm your boy, an' I want you to
do something' for me."
I'll be boun' yer does."
"I felt so 'shame 'bout Pa's one shoat, that I
went out to the front gate, an' when the committee
came to go away, I tole 'em I'd bring something' to
the barbecue."
Mussy yer aint got nuffin ter take."
If I had a 'coon-dog, I might catch a 'coon or
a 'possum. Look yere can't you borrow Boston's
ole Rum for me ?"
Boston was Aunt Silvy's husband, and belonged
on another plantation, and Rum was Boston's
'coon-dog.


[JULY,







THE BARBECUE


Ob cou'se I kin. Bos'on's mighty good ter
min' me. But, law! yer aint 'quainted wid ole
Rum; yer could n't manage him no more'n nuffin.
'Sides, 'coons an' 'possums aint good now tell arter
pussimon-time. Folks ud duspise yer 'coon an'
'possum, kase they's so poo'."
Well, what can I take? I know Pa would n't
let you bake me anything."
Mussy, no Law yer oughter seed de roas'in'
an' fryin', an' all de gwyne-ons at yer granpaw
Thompson's. One Foaf we all tuck-lem me see,
how many cheese-cakes an' tauts wus it ? "
"But what can I take?" said Marley, impa-
tiently.
I reckons some fresh fish would tas' tolerbul
good."
That's just it," Marley cried, springing to his
feet; and he went on talking excitedly about a
splendid cat-fish hole, and where he could find
perch, and how he could keep them alive, etc. At
length he said : Pa says I can't go unless I take
Sukey on behine me. I 'd a heap rather walk than
go in that poor folks' way. Mandy Bradshaw ud
be sure to see us, an' she'd turn up her nose
higher 'n she did when I rolled the mandrake-
apple to her."
Need n't turn up her nose at a ha'f Thomp-
son. I wus 'quainted wid de Bradshaws when dey
wus poo' es yaller dirt,-had jis fou' ole niggers,
an' dey wus mos' all women an' childuns."
But General Bradshaw's tolerbul rich now,-a
heap richer 'n Pa."
He got rich hoss-racin'," said Aunt Silvy, con-
temptuously.
But Marley was thinking about the hardship that
Sukey was.
She's such a coward," he said, "in riding.
She hol's on to me so hard that she pinches like
sixty, an' mos' tears my clothes off. An' if the
horse goes out of a walk, she hollers that she's
goin' to fall off. I don't want to go pokin' up to
the barbecue like it was the first time I ever was on
horseback in my life. But I '11 have to go that
way, or with Sukey clingin' to me an' hollerin'."
Reckon I might pussuade her ter stay to hum."
Oh no Marley said, warmly. Sukey must
go; she'd be so disappointed, I'd a heap rather
stan' Mandy's gigglin' than Sukey's cryin'. No;
Sukey's got to go if she rides on my head."
I'11 tell yer," said Aunt Silvy. Bos'on's got
leave to tote dat little bay mule uv Patrick's over
here fer me ter ride ter de barb'cue. Her name's
Jinny, an' her racks tolerbul easy. I kin take Miss
Sukey in my lap an' Barb'ry Allen on behine."
Marley thought this a capital plan, and went
away to make his preparations for the Fourth. He
brought an immense cotton-basket from the gin-


loft, and nailed it against the side of the little log
spring-house, after having half sunk it in the branch
that flowed through the building. This is where
he meant to put his fish to keep them fresh for the
barbecue. Of these he felt sure, for the plantation
lay along a noble "run," abounding with creatures.
He captured his fish in a way not sportsman-like-
by nets and night-hooks; but then there was need
of expedition, for there were only two days to the
Fourth. When he went to look at his lines, he
always took his rifle and Rover; he might, per-
chance, encounter some game. The first day he
shot a red squirrel. But the next day-oh, the
next day It was late in the afternoon when he
went to the run. He was about descending the
bluff which overhung one of his lines, when he saw
something that made his heart stand still, and then
leap as though it would jump from his body. He
was never so excited in his life. There, with its
nostrils in the water, was a strange animal. In an
instant, he knew it. Rover, too, knew it, and gave
a low growl. Quickly Marley put his hand on the
dog's head, and whispered, Down, Rover, down !
good fellow, down But the wary creature at the
drink had heard something. Two antlers were
suddenly flung up, and a face turned to windward.
Marley, with his knee on Rover, hardly dared to
breathe, yet aimed his rifle. Down, Rover! good
dog, down! he again whispered. Then the sharp
crack of the rifle broke the silence, and Marley,
on his feet, strained his eager eyes through the
smoke. Was that a fallen deer, or was it the
shadow of cypress-knees? He and Rover went
running and leaping to the spot. Yes, he had
killed a fine buck with ten tines. He was a happy
boy, you may believe. Here was a contribution to
the barbecue worthy of the glorious day. When
he had turned the animal over and over, and won-
dered where it came from, and how it happened to
be there alone, he left Rover to guard it, and hur-
ried back for help to get it home. He ran every
step of the way. Then, mounted on black Betts,
and accompanied by Jim, he returned to the heroic
spot, and there found the faithful Rover and his
dead charge. The game was strapped behind
Marley's saddle, and old Betts was made to go
galloping back to the house. Then, after every-
body had looked at the deer, and handled it in
every possible way, and wondered about it, and
Marley had told over and over the story of the
shooting, the game was dressed and put down in
the spring-house, to keep cool for the morrow,
which was the Fourth.
Marley rose early the next morning, and waked
Aunt Silvy by firing his rifle into her cabin. Then
he saw the shoat and venison put in the wagon,
and a barrel of spring-water, crowded with darting







THE BARBECUE.


fishes. After breakfast, he dressed-up in his best
clothes, and stuck two cotton-blooms-one white,
the other red-in his button-hole. He did not
wear these for ornaments, as the cotton-blossom,
which opens white and then quickly turns crimson,
is as large and coarse as a hollyhock, which it
somewhat resembles; but among the planters it is
considered an honor to display the first cotton-
blooms.
He was early on the barbecue ground, located
near a fine clear spring, about which were hung a
score of gourd dippers. He found the campers
already humming like a hive. There were coaches
and buggies and lumber-wagons, and scores upon
scores of tethered horses and mules, which had
brought people to the scene; and other carriages
and riding-horses were momently dashing in.
Whole families came on horseback,-not infre-
quently three riders to a mule or horse. Streams
of negroes were pouring in, usually on foot. There
were well-dressed gentlemen and gay ladies, and a
fair sprinkling of shabby people; and Marley won-
dered where they all came from. In a short time
after his arrival, he caught sight of Aunt Silvy; he
knew her by the faded pink satin bonnet which she
had worn ever since he could remember. She had
Sukey on her shoulder, and was tugging up the
hill from the spring. Boston had failed to bring
over "pacing Jinny" for his wife to ride, so the
faithful negro had brought Sukey all the way on
her shoulder. Marley was quite touched when he
realized this, and he made up his mind that he'd
take Sukey back behind him, if Mandy Bradshaw
should giggle her head off about it. Why should
he care for her mocking more than for the comfort
of Aunt Silvy, his life-long friend ? He went over,
and offered to escort Sukey around to see the
sights, but she preferred to stay with Aunt Silvy;
so he felt free to wander where he pleased. And
he pleased to wander everywhere, and to see every-
thing. He was greatly interested in all the pro-
ceedings,-the spreading of the long, long tables
under the oaks and beeches; the unloading of the
wagons; the clatter of dishes; the great boiling
kettles down by the spring, where negroes were
dressing shoats and sheep and great beeves-every
animal being left whole, but split to the back-bone.
Then there was a rostrum, covered with forest-
boughs and decorated with wreaths and flags, where
the Declaration of Independence was to be read
and the oration was to be given. Yankee
Doodle" the band was playing from it when Mar-
ley strolled by, and about it were the Washington
Rifles, in their pretty uniform of blue and white,
waiting to open the programme by a salute and
some special maneuvering.
But to Marley the most wonderful and interest-


ing of all the sights was the barbecuing. There
were long, broad ditches, floored with coals a foot
deep, over which the great carcasses of hogs and
bullocks were laid on spits, as on a gridiron.
Beyond these trenches, great log-fires were kept
blazing, that the ditches might be replenished with
coals. Ever and anon, an immense iron kettle
would be seen, borne between two negro men, and
filled with glowing coals. Such hissing and sissing
as there was above those lines of fire! What
savory odors were in the air! How important
and fussy the cooks at the spits How splendid
the great log-heap fires How grand the high-
mounting flames and the columns of blue smoke !
Marley was in a mood to enjoy it all, for "the
committee" had expressed special pleasure with
his contribution; it was the only game on the
ground, and they were warm in their compliments
of his sportsmanship.
But after a while, Marley, in his strollings about
the grounds, saw a written placard tacked to a tree.
Of course he read it, and then he stood confounded
by the revelation it made to him. Can't you guess
what it was ? An advertisement for an escaped
pet deer He knew by the description (the ten
tines, the slashed ear, etc.) that it was the deer he
had shot. To have shot anybody's pet deer, and
to know that it was at that moment over the coals,
would have been mortification enough; but it was
the name at the foot of the advertisement which
carried to Marley's heart the sorest dismay he had
ever felt in his life. Whose deer had he killed ?
Guess! Why, Mandy Bradshaw's! He was so
chagrined, so bitterly distressed, that he would
have said he could never smile again. What was
he ever to do about it ? Of course, there was but
one manly thing to do: confess the whole matter
to General Bradshaw. But he felt sure he'd rather
die than do this. He went over to where Aunt
Silvy was barbecuing the deer, the most melan-
choly-looking boy, perhaps, that ever was at a bar-
becue with a cotton-bloom in his button-hole. To
her lie told the truth, and felt better the instant he
had spoken it. But when he asked her advice, she
replied :
I don't devize nuffin. Yer granpaw Thompson
uster say thar neber wus no use in devizin' nobody,
kase a wise man did n't need no device, an' a fool
would n't take no device. But ef I wus yer, I'd
jis go ter Mandy an' tell her how it happen."
Marley saw that it must come to this, and wisely
decided that the sooner it was done the better. So
he began to hover around Mandy, lying about on
the grass, sitting on stumps and logs near her, and
sauntering back and forth. Finally, he saw her
standing alone, her girl mate having run off after a
yellow butterfly. He walked in a dizzy kind of way


[JULY,






THE BARBECUE.


to her side. He said, Howdy, Mandy ?" and she
answered, Howdy ? looking at him with a ques-
tion in her look.
Marley knew she was wondering what he had
come for, and that he was now committed to some
sort of explanation. He blushed and blushed, till
it seemed to him he never could stop blushing.
Don't be mad at me," he said, pleadingly.
I 'm not mad at you," she said.
But you will be when I tell you. I did n't go
to do it. I would n't have done it for the world,
but I thought it was a wild deer and shot it."


Well, I'm not mad at you. I don't care much
about that deer; he used to scare me nearly to
death, and Pa was going to bring him to the bar-
becue. You've brought him instead of Pa-that's
all the difference. I should n't have thought you'd
have told about it when you felt so badly. I reckon
you're tolerbul plucky. Why don't you ever come
over to see brother Bob."
Don't know ; 'cause he never asked me to, I
reckon."
"I know he'd like to have you. Look yere!
He's got some Roman candles he 's going' to fire


GOING TO THE BARBECUE.


"Oh! you're talking' 'bout my deer; you shot
my deer ? "
Yes," said Marley, hoarsely. He thought he
was going to choke to death. "They are bar-
becuing it now. I never was so sorry in my life.
I'11 pay for it, or I'll get you another, or I'l1 do
anything in the world you tell me to."
Mandy burst out laughing, and said : How ab-
surd to talk so about that deer. But you would n't
do anything I tell you. You would n't go up on
the rostrum there, an' stan' on your head."
Yes, I would, if it would keep you from being
mad at me," said Marlev.


off to-night; so you stop as you go home this
evening. It's right on your way. Can't you ?"
I reckon so," answered Marley, his heart throb-
bing with pleasure.
Look here, Marley," Mandy added, suddenly.
" Don't say anything about that deer, and I wont
tell; so nobody 'll know anything about it."
"I must tell General Bradshaw. There he is
coming this way now, to take you to 'the stand.'"
Well, tell him, and I'll ask him not to tell."
When Marley had "owned up," the General
gave him a hearty slap on the back, calling him a
brave lad and a good shot, and promised Mandy


605






BIRDS AND THEIR FAMILIES.


never to tell as long as he lived. When Marley
spoke of the antlers, etc., he was told that he
should keep them.
Then they went up to "the stand," and not a
boy in the assemblage felt in a better mood than
Marley for applauding the patriotic music, and
the old "Declaration," and Mr. Delaney's ardent
oration. At every allusion to the star-spangled
banner, Marley cheered; and when the orator
apostrophized the national bird, perched with one
talon on the Alleghany and the other on the
Sierras, dipping his beak now in the Atlantic and
now in the Pacific, preening his feathers with the
mighty Lakes as his mirror, our Marley shouted
in a patriotic transport from a stump, and threw
up his cap, and threw it up till it lodged in a tree,
and he could toss it no longer. He shook it down
just as the marshal of the day announced that he


would proceed to blow the horn for dinner, to which
everybody, rich and poor, bond and free, was most
cordially invited-ladies to be served first, then the
gentlemen, then the colored people. They would
please form by twos, and march to the tables as the
band played Hail Columbia! "
Then a great bullock's horn, decorated with our
blessed colors, was raised to the marshal's lips, and
he blew and blew and blew such blasts; and when
he had ended, the multitude-especially the boys-
shouted such shouts as might have leveled the walls
of another Jericho, if horn-blasts and shouts could
do such things in these days.
Then the people, in long, fantastic line, wound
in and out among the trees to the tables in the
thick shade; and Marley walked beside Mandy
Bradshaw, keeping step to the spirited music, and
feeling heroic enough to charge an army.


BIRDS AND THEIR FAMILIES.

BY PROF. W. K. BROOKS.


IN this paper we will talk a little about the dif-
ferent ways in which birds bring up their children,
and will say something, too, about the young birds
themselves. There is almost as great a difference
in the domestic habits and customs of birds as in
those of human beings.
You have all heard how the ostrich lays its eggs
in the sand, where the sun can shine upon them,
and keep them warm, while the parent birds are
away in search of food during the middle of the
day. The South American ostrich (an engraving
of which is given on the next page) makes use of
the warmth of the sun and sand in the same way.
According to Darwin, the mother does not show
the least affection for her young, but leaves the labor
of hatching the eggs entirely to the father, who
attends to it very faithfully, but is, of course, com-
pelled to leave the nest occasionally in search of
food, selecting the middle of the day for this pur-
pose, as the heat of the sun is then sufficient to
keep the eggs from growing cold.
I suppose most of you know that if a quantity of
wet decaying leaves or straw is raked together into
a large pile, and covered up with a thin layer of
sand or earth, and then left exposed to the sun and
rain, the heat given off by the decay of the vege-
table matter forming the inside of the pile will be


retained until, after a few weeks, the interior of the
heap becomes so warm that, when the mound is
broken open, a thick cloud of smoke and steam
will rise from it. The mound-building brush-
turkey" of Australia, New Guinea, and the neigh-
boring islands, has somehow learned this fact; and
also, that the steady and equal heat generated is
sufficient to hatch its eggs. So, instead of making
a nest and sitting upon the eggs until they are
hatched, this bird, which has very large and power-
ful feet, scratches up a huge pile of decaying twigs,
leaves and grass, thus making a mound often six
or eight feet high, and containing enough material
to load several wagons, in which the eggs are
buried. The young birds are not helpless when
hatched, like the young of most of our singing
birds, but are quite strong and active, and able to
burrow their way out of the mound, and take care
of themselves immediately.
Some birds provide for their young in still another
way. They neither sit and hatch their own eggs,
nor provide an artificial incubator; but go quietly
and drop an egg into the nest of another bird, and
allow this bird to act as a nurse, hatching the egg
and finding food for the young bird. The most
notable example of this habit among birds is the
case of the European cuckoo. This bird never


L[JLY,






BIRDS AND THEIR FAMILIES.


builds a nest, or shows the least love or even recog-
nition of its young. The cuckoo always selects the
nest of a bird much smaller than itself, and as its
eggs are much smaller than those usually laid by a
bird of its size, they are no larger than those which
properly belong in the nest; so that the owners do
not appear to discover the deception put upon
them, but treat all the eggs alike. As soon as the






I--- -- -- ,, ---,-- -.


t
_- .

= _- = ,. _. -,_.- -


SOUTH AMERICAN OSTRICH.
young cuckoo is hatched he begins to grow very
fast, and as he is larger and stronger than the other
nestlings, he manages to get the lion's share of the
food which the old birds bring to the nest. It would
seem as if robbing his foster brothers and sisters of
part of their nest, of the attention and care of their
parents, and of nearly all of their food, might be
enough to satisfy the young cuckoo; but it is not.
He wants not part, but everything-the whole


nest, all the care of the old birds, and all of the
food-for himself; so, when the old birds are away,
he pushes himself under one of the little nestlings,
which is of course too small and weak to help itself,
and throws it out of the nest to die. In this way
he murders all his foster-brothers, and if any eggs
are still unhatched he throws them out too. He
now has all the attention of the old birds to himself,
for they continue to treat him as affec-
tionately as if he were really one of their
S own children, and go on bringing him
food, and attending to all his wants, long
after he has grown to be as large as
themselves, or even larger.
S We have two species of cuckoo in the
S United States, but each of them builds
S a nest of its own, and rears its own
young, although our yellow-billed cuckoo
is a very bad nest-builder, and is said
often to desert its young, leaving them
to starve unless other birds take pity
Supon them and bring them food. Most
of our smaller birds are very sympathetic
S during the breeding season, and are
ready to give food and care to any
young bird which needs it, even if it is,
Snot one of their own species.
Although our American cuckoos have
S not, as a general thing, the bad habits
of those of Europe, we have another
ii very common bird which is hatched and
'.:.'- brought up by strangers. Every boy
who lives in the country knows the cow-
bird, cow-blackbird, or cow-bunting, for
it is called by all these names. It is a
small bird, a little larger than the bobo-
Slink and of much the same shape. The
.1 male has a dark-brown head and a bright
greenish-black back and wings, but the
S female is so much lighter in color that
you would hardly believe that they be-
long to the same species. These birds
are very abundant in the spring and
summer, and may be seen in flocks fly-
I ing and feeding in company with the
Sred-winged blackbirds. They are often
_-~- -. found among the cattle and sheep in
the pastures and barn-yards, and they
derive all of their common names from this habit.
Although nearly related to the orioles, which make
such wonderful nests, the cow-birds make none at
all, but lay their eggs in the nests of other birds,
such as the blue-bird, chipping-bird, song-sparrow,
yellow-bird, and some thrushes and fly-catchers.
Like the cuckoo, this bird usually chooses the nest of
a bird much smaller than itself, but as its egg is not
small, the deception is at once discovered, and the


1878.1






BIRDS AND THEIR FAMILIES.


birds whose nest has been selected for this purpose
are very much disturbed. It is necessary for the
female cow-bird to find a nest in which the owners
have just begun laying, for if the owners have no
eggs of their own they will desert the nest, and if
their own eggs are somewhat advanced before the
cow-bird's egg is laid, their own young will hatch
first, and the parents will then leave the nest to
hunt for food, thus allowing the cow-bird's egg to
become cold and die.
When the female cow-bird is ready to lay her
egg, she often has great trouble in discovering a


nest in her own vicinity, she goes in search of one,
examining every thicket and bush-sometimes for
a long distance-until she finds one. A gentleman
once followed a cow-bird along the shore of a stream
for two miles before she succeeded in finding a nest
which satisfied her. Occasionally, two or more cow-
birds' eggs are found in the same nest. It is not
known whether both of these are laid by the same
bird, but it is more probable that in such a case as
this two cow-birds have visited the same nest.
The egg of the cow-bird has one interesting and
important peculiarity. It is necessary, as we have


-sr





1.*1

'V
CI


'A


'~--h. r;

ptr..,


-=-


THE CUCKOO.


nest at just the right stage. She leaves the flock
and perches upon some tree or bush, where she
can have a good view of all that is going on.
When she discovers a nest by watching the actions
of its owners, she waits for an opportunity when
both the owners are away, when she approaches it
very stealthily, but quickly, keeping a very sharp
watch, to be sure that she is not observed. If she
finds that the nest is fit for her purpose,-that is,
if the birds have laid only a part of their regular
number of eggs,-she drops one of her own eggs
into it, and then disappears as swiftly and quietly
as she came. If she is unable to find a suitable


seen, that this should be hatched before the other
eggs; for if it were not, the old birds would stop
sitting and allow it to become cold as soon as their
own young were hatched. This danger, however,
has been provided against, since the egg of the
cow-bird needs only eight or nine days of incuba-
tion, while the eggs of those birds in whose nests it
is usually found require from twelve to fifteen days.
A short time after the young cow-bird is hatched,
all the other eggs disappear, and they may some-
times be found on the ground, broken, at a con-
siderable distance from the nest,-so far away that
the young cow-bird could not possibly have thrown


[JULY,


~~j~c~l






BIRDS AND THEIR FAMILIES.


them there. The way in which they are removed
from the nest is not known, as no one has yet
watched closely enough to say whether the parents
themselves destroy them, or whether the female
cow-bird returns to the nest and removes them, to
give more room for her own young when hatched.
I have already said that the smaller birds are
very much disturbed and troubled when they find
one of these eggs in their nest, and are very apt to
desert it and go to another place if they have not
yet any eggs of their own. Our common yellow-
bird, however, is sometimes wise enough to find a
better way out of its trouble. It values its neatly
finished nest too highly to desert it, and it is not






EGG OF COW-BIRD.
strong enough to lift the big egg and throw it over
the edge, so it gathers a new supply of hay and
hair, and makes a false bottom to cover up the egg.
Then it makes a new lining to the nest, and lays
its own eggs upon that, so that the cow-bird's egg
does not receive any of the warmth from its body,
and never hatches.
I have given you several reasons for believing
that birds are able to think for themselves ; but I
do not see how anything could prove this more
clearly than this expedient of the yellow-bird for
saving its young from destruction by preventing
the hatching of the cow-bird's egg.
Before leaving the subject of birds'-nests, I must
say a few words about the immense number of birds
which sometimes gather in one place for the pur-
pose of raising their young. The enormous flocks
of wild pigeons, which from time to time visit cer-
tain parts of the United States, have a definite por-
tion of the woods, often several miles in extent,
where they gather every night. This is called the
"roost," and here they build their nests and rear
their young. There are so many at these roosts
that it is not always safe to go under the trees, for
large branches are often broken off by the weight
of the birds and their nests.
If you wish to know more about these pigeon-
roosts, you will find long accounts of them in the
books about birds by those two celebrated men,
Wilson and Audubon. Audubon's account of a
roost which he visited in Kentucky is very interest-
ing and well worth your reading. It is printed in
the first volume of his "Ornithological Biography,"
and also, I believe, in the Life of Audubon, the
Naturalist."
In these books, and in the other works of Audubon
VOL. V.-4I.


and Wilson, you will also find much instructive and
entertaining information in regard to all of our com-
mon birds. Most of our sea-birds are very wild, as
they are much hunted by man, and on this account
they build their nests and rear their young on
inaccessible and uninhabited rocky islands, and
the number of sea-birds which gather upon these
islands during the breeding season is almost beyond
belief; but the following account of Ailsa Craig,
by Nathaniel P. Rodgers (the "Craig" is a rocky
island on the west of Scotland), will give some idea
of their abundance at such places:

It was a naked rock, rising nine hundred and
eighty feet abruptly out of the sea. A. little level
space projected on one side, with a small house on
it. We could not conjecture the use of a habitation
there. The captain of the steamer said it was the
governor's house. We asked him what a governor
could do there.
Take care of the birds," he replied.
What sort of birds ?" we asked him.
Sea-fowl of all sorts," he said. They inhabit
the Craig, and ye 'll may be see numbers of them.
They are quite numerous, and people have been in
the habit of firing to alarm the birds, to see them
fly."
He ordered his boy to bring the musket. The
boy returned, and said it had been left behind at
Glasgow.
Load up the swivel, then," said the captain;
it will be all the better. It will make quite a
flight, ye'll find. Load her up pretty well."
The steamer meanwhile kept nearing the giant
craig, which was a bare rock from summit to the
sea. We saw caves in the sides of the mountain.
We had got so near as to see the white birds flitting
across the black entrances of the caverns like bees
about a hive. With the spy-glass we could see
them distinctly, and in very considerable numbers,
and at length approached so that we could see them
on the ledges all over the sides of the mountain.
We had passed the skirt of the Craig, and were
within halfa mile, or less, of its base. With the glass
we could now see the entire mountain-side peopled
with the sea-fowl, and could hear their whimpering,
household cry, as they moved about, or nestled in
domestic snugness on the ten thousand ledges.
The air, too, about the precipices seemed to be
alive with them. Still we had not the slightest
conception of their frightful multitude. We got
about against the center of the mountain when the
swivel was fired, with a reverberation like the dis-
charge of a hundred cannon, and what a sight fol-
lowed! They rose up from that mountain-the
countless millions and millions of sea-birds-in a
universal, overwhelming cloud, that covered the


609





BIRDS AND THEIR FAMILIES.


.. ..K.


S.,- ---

Z-7 P
'' I-L*- ......'







-"---. ..:C--" -


-.. -:- --------- -- "- --- -
A--









ENGLISH PHEASANT AND YOUNG.


whole heavens, and their cry was like the cry of an
alarmed nation. Up they went,-millions upon
millions,-ascending like the smoke of a furnace,-
countless as the sands on the sea-shore,-awful,
dreadful for multitude, as if the whole mountain
were dissolving into life and light; and, with an
unearthly kind of lament, took up their lines of


flight in every direction off to sea! The sight
startled the people on board the steamer, who had
often witnessed it before, and for some minutes
there ensued a general silence. For our own part,
we were quite amazed and overawed at the specta-
cle. We had seen nothing like it before. We had
never witnessed sublimity to be compared to that


6Io


[JULY,







BIRDS AND THEIR FAMILIES.


rising of sea-birds from Ailsa Craig. They were
of countless varieties in kind and size, from the
largest goose to the small marsh-bird, and of every
conceivable variety of dismal note. Off they moved,
in wild and alarmed rout, like a people going into
exile; filling the air, far and wide, with their
reproachful lament at the wanton cruelty which
had driven them away.

This is only one of these breeding-places, but
most of the rocky, inaccessible cliffs and unin-
habited islands of the northern and southern shores
of both continents are visited, at certain seasons,
by sea-birds in equally great numbers.
No subject connected with the history of birds
furnishes more interesting material for study than
that of instinct. Young birds of different species
show that they have very different degrees of in-
stinctive knowledge. Some are able to take the


I,
S ''


I i
II




Pt


can do anything for themselves, except breathe, and
swallow what is put into their mouths. The young
chicken, a short time after it leaves the egg, knows
how to take care of itself nearly as well as the young
mound-bird. It can run after its mother, use its
eyes, pick up food, and answer the call of the old
hen; and it does all this without instruction. How
different it is in all these respects from the young
barn-swallow This is blind, and unable to run,
or even to stand, knowing only enough to open its
mouth when it hears the old bird return to the nest,
and to swallow the food placed in its open bill. Far
from knowing by instinct how to use its wings, as
the young chick does its legs, it does not learn this
until it is well grown, and has had several lessons
in flying; and even then it flies badly, and im-
proves only after long practice. After it has learned
to fly, it is still very helpless and baby-like, and very
different from the active, bright-eyed, independent


Ii


I

-ci;,,


MALLARD DUCKS.

entire care of themselves, and do not need a mother little chick of the barn-yard; and, indeed, the young
to watch over them; others, on the contrary, are of all the Rasores, or scratching birds, such as the
perfectly helpless, and need teaching before they hen, the quail, the partridge, the pheasant and the


--'-~-







BIRDS AND THEIR FAMILIES.


turkey. In the admirable picture of an English
pheasant and its brood, on page 61o, you will see
how very much like young chicks the young pheas-
ants are.
The scratching birds are not the only ones which
can take care of themselves at an early age. This
is true of the running birds, such as the ostrich;
and the same is the case with many of the wading
birds, such as the woodcock; and among the swim-
ming birds, there are several kinds that take full
care of themselves soon after leaving the shell.
In the picture on the preceding page you have
a pair of mallard ducks with three young ones,
which are all able to swim and dive as well as their
parents. You all know that, far from standing in
need of instruction, young ducks take to the water
by instinct, even when they have been brought up
by a hen; and they know that they are perfectly
safe upon it, although the anxious hen tries in


every way to restrain them and to call them back.
There are many ways in which some of our
young birds show their really wonderful instincts,
but there is nothing more curious in this respect
than the habits of the little chickens, which most of
us have opportunities of noticing,-if we choose to
take the trouble. These little creatures, almost as
soon as they are born, understand what their
mother clucks" to them; they know that they
must hide when a hawk is about; they often scratch
the ground for food before they see their mother or
any other chicken do so; they are careful not to
catch bees instead of flies; and they show their
early smartness in many ways which are well worth
watching.
But, sometimes, a brood of these youngsters find
something that puzzles them, as when they meet
with a hard-shelled beetle, who looks too big to eat
and yet too small for a playmate.


[JULY,






1878.] SNEEZE DODSON'S FIRST INDEPENDENCE DAY.


RAIN.

BY EDGAR FAWCETT.


OH, the Rain has many fitful moods
Ere the merry summer closes,-
From the first chirp of the robin-broods
To the ruin of the roses!

Through the sunshine's gold her glitter steals,
In the doubtful April weather,
When the world seems trying how it feels
To be sad and glad together.

Now and then, on quiet sultry eves,
From her low persistent patter,
She would seem confiding to the leaves
An extremely solemn matter.


Then, again, you see her from the sky
Such a mighty flood unfolding,
That you wonder if Old Earth knows why
It receives so hard a scolding !

Yet we learn to fancy, day by day,
As we watch her softly shining,
That she has no cloud, however gray,
But it wears a silver lining !

For in autumn, though with tears she tells
How the lands grow sad and darken,
Yet in spring her drops are tinkling bells
For the sleeping flowers to hearken !


And her tinted bow seems Love's own proof,
As it gleams with colors seven,-
Like a stately dome upon the roof
Of her palace, high in heaven !









SNEEZE DODSON'S FIRST INDEPENDENCE DAY.

BY MRS. M. H. W. JAQUITH.


THE usually quiet town of Greenville was in a
hurly-burly of excitement on this Fourth of July
morning, because of the great Sunday-school pic-
nic, which was to take place on a fine ground, two
miles distant. In the fervor of patriotism and the
bustle of preparing for the picnic-celebration, almost
every house in the village resounded with shouts
and noises; and all the children were on the tip-
toe of expectation and delight. Deacon Ebenezer
Dodson sat in the arm-chair in the "'spare room,"
staring out of the window, and trying to think up
the speech he was to make that day. For he had
been chosen by the town-committee to open the
exercises upon the stand with an appropriate ora-
tion; and though he had mused and muttered and
studied over it, from the day when he was first re-
quested to perform" until this eventful morning
itself, he had not yet succeeded in composing a
speech which satisfied him.


"The flies bother the horses so, I can't practice
on it in the field, and my only chance is o' nights,"
he had often explained to his wife ; but his nightly
meditations on it had been disturbed by such
foreign remarks as this:
I say, Eb" (that was her family name for him;
away from home she always said "Deacon "), "you
haint gone off to sleep, be you? I should feel
masterly cut up ef my cake should be heavy, an'
everybody on the grounds will know it's mine from
the marks o' my name I'm goin' to put on the
frostin',"-by which she meant her initials done in
red, white, and blue powdered sugar.
And again :
Do you remember Mis' Deacon Pogue's pound-
cake at the d'nation party las' winter ? She 'd
bragged on it to every livin' soul, an', when they
came to cut it, there was a solid streak of dough
right through the middle from eend to eend. She







SNEEZE DODSON'S FIRST INDEPENDENCE DAY.


did n't happin to be 'round when 't was cut, an' I
thought it was my duty to let her see a piece, so
she'd know how to better it next time, and she
was so mad, she's turned up her nose at me ever
sence."
The Deacon here murmured something begin-
ning "Ninthly," for he had arranged his speech in
heads; but she kept on with such inspiring mem-
ories, that he had poor chance to get up that
" Speech by Deacon Dodson," the sight of which
legend on the printed programme had aroused in
him a fixed determination to do or die. But it
seemed to him, as he sat there, that it would be
die; for not one "head" could he call up clearly,
and ever and anon his wife would cry out for wood
or water, or to state some fact concerning her cake
or chickens.
Just now her rusk was the all-absorbing topic of
thought. More than twenty times she had looked
at the dough and reported its rise" to the unsym-
pathetic Deacon, who was pumping his arms up
and down, and trying to disentangle his firstly"
and "secondly."
The procession is going to form at nine o'clock
punctial, and march to the grounds, and so there's
no use of dressing Bubby twice," Mrs. Dodson had
said, so that youth of three summers was wander-
ing around in his night-gown, and had taken so
active an interest in the proceedings that Mrs.
Dodson had several times sent him to his father,
complaining, I never did see him so upstroferlous
before."
Sneeze-so called because he was named for his
father, and it was necessary to distinguish them-
was hurried in from the barn; his ears were boxed
for "not bein' 'round to take care of Bubby," and
then he was sent with him to the barn.
Deacon had been duly badgered and pestered
about household troubles. He had helped to put
on Bubby's shoes-now far too small-and tried
to hook Mrs. Dodson's dress-similarly outgrown.
But he was at length exasperated into saying:
"By George! I can't think of a word of my
speech, you bother me so "
You fairly make my blood run cold to be saying'
sech words as that on this Fourth o' July morning ,
which you always said was nex' door to swearing "
replied his wife; but her stream of talk was frozen
up for the time, and they were at length dressed,
packed, and rattling over the stony hills in a lum-
ber-wagon.
Wal, this seems quite like Independence Day,"
she said musingly. I remember once goin' to
a regular picnic when I was about the bigness of
Sneeze there, an' we had an awful good time.
Mother 'd plegged herself to git up something' that
nobody else 'd have, an' finally she made a lot o'


bigger four doughnuts to stand for Fourth o' July,
you know, an' Aunt Jane, she that was a Green,
Uncle Josiah's first wife, was kind o' jealous 'cause
people noticed them more 'n her cooking an' she
said they was shortened with toughening till no-
body could n't eat 'em. It come right straight back
to mother, an' they never spoke for better 'n a
year-no, 't was just a year, come to think, for
mother took sick in bed very nex' Fourth, an' then
Aunt Jane confessed humble enough, and they
made up."
Sneeze had been listening, and while his mother
paused for breath, he asked, What do we keep
Fourth of July for, an' what makes 'em call it
Independence Day? I heard Reub Blake say that
was the true name of it."
Why, Sneeze, I 'm 'shamed of you that you
don't know that much. It is because George Wash-
ington was born on that day, or died; which was
it, father ? An' he fought for our independence.
Besides, he never told a lie, as it tells about in the
spellin'-book."
Yes, it was something of that natur'," said the
Deacon; "you 'll know all about it to-day when
we come to speak and make our orations."
Yes, Sneeze, an' Cynthia Ann, your father is
going' to be a speaker on the stage ; but you mus' n't
feel set-up over the other girls an' boys whose
fathers an' mothers aint appointed as speakers an'
on the table committee. You must listen to what
father says."
They promised faithfully, and this is what Sneeze
would have heard if he had kept his pledge; but
to tell the truth, he was at that time going around
with another boy looking into the baskets, and
speculating on the length of time before dinner.
Deacon Ebenezer Dodson, the first speaker on
the programme, will now address the assembly,"
announced the chairman in a stentorian voice, after
the procession had formed, marched, settled down,
and were ready for the "exercises of the day."
The Deacon stepped forward, and, with very evi-
dent shaking of the knees, with coughs and ahems,
glancing to the right of him and to the left of him,
to the heavens above and the earth beneath, with
trembling voice he began:
Firstly, my friends and fellow-citizens of this
great country, this institution which we have come
here to celebrate was instituted a great many hun-
dred years ago,-leastways, if not quite so long,
since this institution was instituted all men are free
and equal"-(a long pause); and since this
institution was instituted in this great country, we
have Sunday-schools and can go to church."
Another pause.
Secondly, little children, friends and fellow-
citizens of this great country, let us all use rightly


[JULY,






SNEEZE DODSON'S FIRST


and not abuse the advantages of this institution
which has been instituted for us, and go to church
and Sunday-school, and-and-I see Deacon Pogue
is waiting to make some remarks, and my friends
and fellow-citizens of this great country, I will
detain you no longer to dwell upon this institution,
which was instituted to-to-- Here somebody
benevolently thought to cheer, and the Hip, hip,
hurrahs !" were taken up so lustily by the small
boys, that the magnetic sound warmed the Deacon
into "Thirdly;" but Deacon Pogue had stepped
briskly forward, and so with a bow, and Good-by,
my friends and fellow-citizens of this great country,"
he descended to his delighted wife, who received
him with many proud and joyful congratulations.


called this Fourth of July an 'institution.' That
was a novel and happy idea. It is an 'institution,'
and upon it are founded all of our institutions,-
free schools, free religion, free speech, free press,
free ballots, free action: freedom everywhere for
all men free and equal is founded on this glorious
'institution,' the corner-stone of which was laid
Fourth of July, 1776."
At this point so great was Mrs. Dodson's conjugal
pride, and so fearful was she that her husband was
not attending to the speaker's flattery, that she
poked him with her parasol till the Deacon was
" fain to cry out," as Bunyan says. When quiet
was restored, the speaker continued:
"Another gifted orator has said,"-and, quoting


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DEACON DODSON'S ORATION.
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Deacon Pogue was more ready and noisy, but
spoke quite as much to the point as Deacon Dod-
son. He was followed by several others, none of
whom could be omitted without giving offense, and
at length, with a great flourish, the chairman an-
nounced The orator of the day, Captain Buzwell,
from Thornton, who has kindly consented to honor
us," etc.
He was a lawyer with a gift of tongues, and his
first few words brought all the hitherto indifferent
assembly quietly near the stand. After a few well-
put anecdotes, he said: But to come back to the
subject in hand: one of your eloquent speakers has


something from Deacon Pogue's pointless remarks,
he made them also seem full of meaning; and so
on through the list of "distinguished speakers,"
till each one felt that he himself had spoken most
effectively.
Having thus pleased and interested all parties,
he followed with an instructive, historical speech,
to which Sneeze, doughnut and cheese in hand,
listened so intently, that he found out at last "why
they kept Fourth of July."
After the speech and appropriate instrumental
music by the band," which consisted of a drum and
a bass-viol, the people dispersed to amuse them-


INDEPENDENCE DAY.







SNEEZE DODSON'S FIRST INDEPENDENCE DAY.


selves as they saw fit, till dinner should be an-
nounced.
Mrs. Dodson, as Table Committee," was dis-
posed to magnify her office. She kept the Deacon
standing guard over her basket till nearly all the
rest were emptied, having reserved conspicuous
places on the table for her goodies. Taking advan-
tage of her rival's presence, smiling sweetly, she
said as she opened the basket, Mis' Pogue, your
vittles look so nice, I 'm real 'shamed to bring mine
out at all."
"But all the while I knew she was proud as
Lucifer over 'em, and thought she 'd throw me
quite in the shade," Mrs. Pogue told her next
neighbor that afternoon. Her big cards of rusk
did look nice, but her mince-pies had slipped over
into the custards, and they had dripped onto her
cake so it looked just awful! and that red-headed
Sneeze had squeezed her jelly-cake into flap-jacks,
most likely by setting' on the basket. I never see
anybody so cut up in my life; her face was redder
than a beet."
And Mrs. Dodson said to the Deacon that night,
I did feel despritly morterfied over my squashed
vittles, with Mis' Pogue a-lookin' on with all her
eyes."
But when the orator of the day" ate of her
rusk, and said, Mrs. Dodson, these rusk have a
peculiar taste, just such as those my dead mother
used to make for me when I was a boy, and I want
you to give me the recipe for my wife," and he took
it down in his note-book, there was full compensa-
tion for all her trials.
When all had eaten all they could, the young
folks and children swung, played ball, or chased
the squirrel," with the delightful penalty of kissing
it when caught, or rambled about at will, while the
mothers gathered the dishes together, and ex-
changed recipes and confidential remarks on some-
body's cooking .
By four o'clock the babies were fretful; children
of Bubby's age complained that their shoes and
clothes were too tight; somebody suggested going
home. In vain the young people protested-an
hour from that time the grounds were deserted;
the lumber of the stage, made sacred by such ora-
tory, had been gathered up with the seats and
tables, and where so much of life had been, all was
silence.
A neighbor's hired man was riding home with the


Dodsons, but as Mrs. Dodson did not mind him,
she at once began to congratulate her husband on
his maiden speech. Cappen Buzwell said you
made the best oration there was made to-day,
Deacon. Did you pay 'tention, Sneeze, an' hear
what he said 'bout your father's speaking' ?"
The Deacon modestly put in a faint, "Now,
mother, don't," but she interrupted him: Yis I
shall, for it's so, father, an' I 'm going' to say my
say. Besides, he told me, with tears in his eyes,
that my rusk tasted just like his dead mother's.
But ef you 'd only seen him trying' to eat one o' Mis'
Pogue's doughnuts as if they was real good, when
I could see they was half chokin' of him I "
That there man from town did make a purty
considerable speech," said the Deacon; not so
hefty as some I've heard, but real instructing. It
made me feel as though I wanted to fight some-
body-purty much as I used to when I was a boy,
and heard my father tell how he fit in the war of
eighteen hundred and twelve, and his grandsir in
the Revolutionary war."
"I guess you was n't in any o' them wars?"
stated the hired man, inquiringly.
No; I was n't born then, and o' course I
could n't; but my father used to tell us about it on
trainin'-day nights. Trainin'-day was a great time,
with its uniforms and feathers; my father was a
sarjint, and we had gingerbread and federal cake."
"Well," burst out Sneeze, "if ever I get a
chance I'm goin' to be a soldier, an' fight for my
country, as George Washington did. I just wish
we'd have trainin'-day now, and that Fourth of
July came every day. Then, too, when I'm a
man, I 'm goin' to marry Eliza Johnson, for
she-"
Shut up, Sneeze put in Mrs. Dodson. Lit-
tle boys like you ought to be seen and not heard;
when your parents make speeches and rusk at
Fourth o' July celebrations that them that was good
judges says was most interesting you had ought to
be listening' to their talking' and learning' o' them.
Here's Bubby a tunin' for something' to eat; give
him one of them rusk out of the basket, an' stop
your nonsense."
Sneeze's face was as red as his hair, and not
another word did he say; but his dreams that night
were a mixture of feathers, soldiers and pound-
cake, Eliza Johnson, mother and speeches, and
thus ended his first memorable Independence Day.


[JULY,






A BOY'S EXPERIENCE WITH TAR MARBLES.


MEADOW

BY CAROLINE


A BUMBLE-BEE, yellow as gold,
Sat perched on a red-clover top,
When a grasshopper, wiry and old,
Came along with a skip and a hop.
" Good-morrow cried he, Mr. Bumble-Bee !
You seem to have come to a stop."

We people that work,"
Said the bee with a jerk,
" Find a benefit sometimes in stopping;
Only insects like you,
Who have nothing to do,
Can keep up a perpetual hopping."


The grasshopper paused on his way,
And thoughtfully hunched up his knees;
' Why trouble this sunshiny day,"
Quoth he, with reflections like these?
I follow the trade for which I was made;
We all can't be wise bumble-bees.

There's a time to be sad,
And a time to be glad;
A time both for working and stopping;
For men to make money,
For you to make honey,
And for me to do nothing but hopping."


A BOY'S EXPERIENCE WITH TAR MARBLES.

BY C. S. N.


ALMOST all boys, at some period of their lives,
devote their spare time to playing with marbles,
and I certainly was not unlike other boys in this
respect. My fondness for marbles began very
early, and when I was about seven years old led
me into a curious experience, which I am about to
relate. A great rivalry for acquiring marbles had
suddenly arisen at that time among the boys of the
town, and to possess as many of the little round


beauties as my oldest brother owned, soon became
the desire of my heart and the height of my
ambition.
I had already obtained a large number, when
one day I overheard my oldest brother telling one
of his schoolmates that he had made the important
discovery that marbles could be formed from coal-
tar, of which there was a large quantity on a certain
street in a distant part of the town. He did not


TALK,

LESLIE.






A BOY'S EXPERIENCE WITH TAR MARBLES.


condescend to explain the process of manufacture,
but he showed the marbles he had made,-black,
round, and glossy. The sight inspired me with
ardent desire to possess an unlimited quantity.
My brother told me just where the coveted
treasure was to be found, and, in the afternoon, I
started off, without confiding to any one my inten-
tion, to find the spot and lay in a supply of the raw
material, which I could convert into marbles at
my leisure. Delightful visions of bags filled with
treasure, dancing through my brain, hastened the
rate of my speed almost to a run, before I arrived
at the goal of my hopes. It was a very hot July
afternoon, and I was in a violent heat; but the
sight of the heaps of coal-tar put all thoughts of
anything unpleasant quite out of my head; it
caused me to forget also that I had on a suit of new
clothes, of which I had been cautioned by my
mother to be extremely careful.
I need hardly remark that I was not very well
acquainted with the substance I was handling, and
my only idea of its qualities was, that it could be
molded into any shape I pleased. I was not aware
that it has all the qualities of ordinary tar,-melts
with heat, and becomes the toughest, stickiest,
most unmanageable of substances with which a
small boy can come into contact.
I fell to work to collect what I wanted to carry
home. I filled the pockets of my pantaloons, and
of my jacket, and lastly, when these were stuffed to
their utmost capacity, I filled the crown of my hat
so full that it would hardly go on my head. The
place was at some distance from my home, and I did
not wish to have to return immediately for more.
With a heart filled with triumph, I started off
toward home. By this time I began to realize
that the weather was not cool. It had been a
long walk, and I was pretty tired, but I was also
in a great hurry to begin making marbles, so I
walked as fast as I could. After a little time I
began to be sensible of a disagreeable feeling of
stickiness about my waist, and a slight trickling
sensation in the region of the knees.
A cloud not bigger than a man's hand flitted
across my horizon,-perhaps coal-tar might melt ?
I resolved to ascertain; and, like the famous
old woman with her yard of black pudding," I
very soon found it was much easier to obtain what
I wanted, than to know what to do with it when I
had it. A very slight inspection of my pockets
satisfied me that coal-tar was capable of becom-
ing liquid, and, if I needed further evidence, the
sable rivulets that began to meander down the
sides of my face gave ample corroboration of the
fact. I tried to take off my hat, but it would not
come.
I looked down at my new trousers with feelings


of dismay. Ominous spots of a dismal hue were
certainly growing larger. I tried to get the tar out
of my pockets, but only succeeded in covering my
hands with the black, unmanageable stuff, which



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7 -. 7 _,_ -_ -_ ,


........... ........ ...... -
"I LOOKED DOWN AT MY NEW TROUSERS WITH DISMAY.
at that moment I regarded as one of those inven-
tions of the devil, to entrap little boys, of which I
had often been warned, but to which I had given
no heed. If it was a trap, I was certainly caught;
there was no doubt of that. But I was not without
some pluck, and in my case, as in that of many
another brave, my courage in facing the present
calamity was aided by my fear of another still more
to be dreaded.
That I should get a whipping for spoiling my
new suit, if I could not manage to get the tar off, I
was quite certain, and I had had no permission to
go from home, and on the whole the outlook was
not cheerful in that direction. Quite driven to
desperation, I seated myself on the ground, and
tried to scrape off the black spots, which had now
extended to formidable dimensions; while I could
feel small streams coming down inside of the collar
of my shirt, and causing rather singular sugges-
tions of a rope around my neck. My labor was all
in vain. I got a good deal off, but there seemed
to be an inexhaustible quantity on. I gave it up in
despair, and burst into uncontrollable sobs. The
flow of tears thinned the lava-like fluid, and it now
resembled ink, which covered my face like a veil;
but in the extremity of my anguish a hope dawned


[JULY,







A BOY'S EXPERIENCE WITH TAR MARBLES.


upon me. I found that I could wipe off with my
hand this thinner solution, and if water would do
it, water was plenty, and I would wash it off. A
cousin of mine lived not very far off, and I knew
that in the yard of her house there was a pump.
Inspired by this idea, I set off at a run, and did
not slacken my pace until I reached the spot. Here
another difficulty met me. I could not reach the
handle of the pump so as to get the benefit of the
stream from its mouth, and it was only a complete
shower-bath that would restore me to respectability.
I set to work to find a rope, and fastened together
quite a complicated piece of machinery, as I
thought, by which I managed to pump the ice-cold
water upon my devoted head. The effect was not
as immediate as I had hoped. But I had faith if a
little was good, more must be better. Creak-
creak-creak-went the pump-handle, which did
more work that afternoon than in half a dozen days'
washing.
Creak-creak-creak! But the tar only became
harder and harder, until I was encased in sheet-
armor, like the famous Black Knight. Presently,
my cousin Jenny, an especial friend of mine,
hearing such continual pumping, and becoming
anxious for the family supply of water, came out
to see what was the matter. Seeing a small figure
curled up under the spout of the pump, drenched
to the skin and black as Othello, she stooped down
to investigate the phenomenon. Oh, what was my
despair when she discovered who it was, and in
what plight !
To say she laughed would be to give a feeble idea
of the peals of laughter that succeeded each other
as she stood and looked at me. She would try to
control her merriment for a moment, only to break
forth afresh, until she was obliged to sit down from
sheer exhaustion. Every time she glanced at my
woe-begone countenance, and drenched condition,
she would go into fresh convulsions of fun. At last
she recovered breath enough to inquire into my
case, and to assure me she would do what she could
for me; but she soon found, to my despair, that
what she could do was not much to my relief. The
clothes could not be got off, and certainly they
could never be got clean. She did manage, with a
strong pair of shears, to cut off the pockets in my
breeches, and then, fearing my mother would be
alarmed, she bade me go home, and she would
promise to secure me against a whipping.
I fancy she thought this last promise would be
easily kept.
Somewhat comforted, I took up my line of march
toward the paternal roof, but, as I went along, my
heart began to sink again; visions of a rod, with
which my not too saintly character had made me
somewhat familiar, loomed up before me; but


worse than all, the thought of my brother's ridicule
made my sensitive spirit quail. I thought I would
evade all for that night, however, by going quietly
up the back stairs, going to bed, and "playing
sick." Fortune favored me. I reached the bed-
room without being seen; and, just as I was, with
my hat on, for it could only have come off with my
scalp, I got into bed, and covered myself entirely
up with the bed-clothes. It was now dusk, and I
felt for the moment quite safe. Presently my aunt
came into the room to get something for which she
was looking, and I could hear her give several
inquiring sniffs, and as she went out I heard her
say: "I certainly do smell tar; where can it come
from?" An interval of peace followed, and then in
came my mother. Tar? Smell tar ? Of course
you do; it's strong enough in this room. Bring a
light."
It was the sound of doom !
My mother soon came close up to the bed, and
held the light so that it fell full upon me as she
tried to turn down the bed-clothing. Probably, if
it had not been for several previous scrapes in
which I had been involved, she would have been
much frightened; but as it was, the sight of her
young blackamoor had much the same effect upon


*- _- -:-' -- .

THE SHOWER-BATH.

her as upon my cousin. Her exclamations and
shrieks of laughter brought every member of the
household successively to the room, and as one






020 DAB KINZER. [JULY,


after another came in, fresh zest seemed to be given
to the merriment of which I was the unfortunate
victim.
But every renewal of the fun was an added agony
to me, for I clearly foresaw that it would be re-
hearsed by Jack and Tom to all the boys in the
neighborhood. Beside this, I was not in a condi-
tion to be hilarious. Plastered with tar from head
to foot; streaming with perspiration at every pore;
my clothes drenched; my hair matted together, and
my straw hat, soaked with water, fastened upon it,
and falling limp and wet about my eyes; I was not
rendered more comfortable by the fact that I could
not move without taking pillow and bed-clothes
with me, as, in my desperate desire to conceal
myself from view, I had become enwrapped in the
bed-clothing like a caterpillar in its chrysalis; and I
was conscious of a dim fear that if I sat up, with
the pillow stuck fast on the top of my hat, the sight
of me might produce fatal results upon the already
exhausted family.
At last the point was reached where I thought
patience ceased to be a virtue, and I rebelled
against being any longer made a spectacle.
I declared if they would all go away but mother,
I would tell her all about it. The crowd retired,
commissioned to send up a crock of butter, a tub
of hot water, and a pair of shears. Maternal love
is strong, but I doubt if it was often put to a
severer test of its long-suffering than was that of
my mother that night.
Suffice it to say that, after my clothes had been
cut to ribbons, the sheets torn up, my head well-


nigh shaved, and my whole person subjected first
to an African bath of melted butter, and afterward




I


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"I COVERED MYSELF WITH THE BED-CLOTHES."
to one of hot soap-suds, I had had my fill of bathing
for one day, and was, shortly before midnight, pro-
nounced to be tolerably clean.
P. S.-I never made any marbles of coal-tar.


DAB KINZER: A STORY OF A GROWING BOY.

BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD.


CHAPTER V.
DURING the week which followed the wedding-
day, the improvements on the Morris house were
pushed along in a way that surprised everybody.
Every day that passed, and with every dollar's
worth of work that was done, the good points of
the long-neglected old mansion came out stronger
and stronger; for Mrs. Kinzer's plans had been a
good while getting ready, and she knew exactly
what was best to be done.
Before the end of the week Mr. Foster came over,
bringing Ford with him, and he soon arrived at
an understanding with Dabney's mother.
A very business-like, common-sense sort of a


woman," he remarked to his son. "But what a
great, dangling, overgrown piece of a boy that is.
Still, you may find him good company."
"No doubt," said Ford, "and thus I can be
useful to him. He looks as if he could learn if he
had a fair chance."
S"I should say so," responded Mr. Foster,
thoughtfully; "and we must n't expect too much of
fellows brought up away out here, as he has been."
Ford gravely assented.
There was a surprise in store for the village
people; for, early in the following week it was
rumored from house to house, The Kinzers are
all a-movin' over to Ham Morris's."






DAB KINZER.


And before the public mind was settled enough
to inquire into the matter, the rumor was changed
into, "The Widder Kinzer's moved to Ham's
house, bag and baggage."
So it was, although the carpenters and painters
and glaziers were still at work, and the piles of
Kinzer furniture had to be stowed around as best
could be. Some of them had even to be locked
up overnight in one of the barns.
The Kinzers, for generations, had been a trifle
weak about furniture, and that was one of the
reasons why there was so little room for human
beings in their house. The little parlor, indeed,
had been filled till it put one in mind of a small
"furniture store" with not room enough to show
the stock on hand, and some of the other parts of
the house required knowledge and care to walk
about in them.
Bad for a small house, truly, but not so much so
when the same articles were given a fair chance to
spread themselves.
It was a treat to Dab to watch while the new
carpets were put down, one after another, and then
to see how much at home and comfortable the
furniture looked as it was moved into its new
quarters.
Mrs. Kinzer took care that the house she left
should speak well of her to the eyes of Mrs. Foster,
when that lady came to superintend the arrival of
her own household goods.
The character of these, by the way, at once con-
vinced the village gossips that "lawyer Foster must
be a good deal forehanded in money matters."
And so he was, even more than his furniture indi-
cated. Ford had a wonderful deal to do with the
settlement of his family in their new home, and it
was not until nearly the close of the week that he
found time for more than an occasional glance over
the north fence.
"Take the two farms together," his father had
said to him, and they make a really fine estate.
I learn, too, that the Kinzers have other property.
Your young acquaintance is likely to have a very
good start in the world."
Ford had found out nearly as much on his own
account, but he had long since learned the useless-
ness of trying to teach his father anything, however
well he might succeed with ordinary people, and so
he had said nothing.
Dabney," said Mrs. Kinzer, that Friday even-
ing, you 've been a great help all the week. Sup-
pose you take the ponies to-morrow morning, and
ask young Foster out for a drive."
"Mother," exclaimed Samantha, I shall want
the ponies myself. I 've some calls to make, and
some shopping. Dabney will have to drive."
"No, Sam," remarked Dabney; "if you go out


with the ponies to-morrow, you '11 have my old
clothes to drive you."
What do you mean ?" asked Samantha.
I mean, with Dick Lee in them."
"That would be just as well," said Mrs. Kinzer.
The ponies are gentle enough, and Dick drives
well. He '11 be glad enough to go."
"Dick Lee, indeed!" began Samantha.
"A fine boy," interrupted Dab, "and he's be-
ginning to dress well. His new clothes fit him
beautifully. All he really needs is a shirt, and I '11
give him one. Mine are getting too small."
Well, Dabney," said Mrs. Kinzer, I've been
thinking about it. You ought not to be tied down
all the while. Suppose you take next week pretty
much to yourself. Samantha wont want the ponies
every day. The other horses have all got to work,
or I'd let you have one of them."
Dabney got up, for want of a better answer, and
walked over to where his mother was sitting, and
gave the thoughtful matron a good, sounding kiss.
At the same time he could not help thinking,
"This comes of Ham Morris and my new rig."
There Dabney, that'll do," said his mother;
"but how '11 you spend Saturday?"
"Guess I'll take Ford Foster out in the bay
a-crabbing, if he'll go," replied Dabney. "I'll
run over and ask him."
It was not too late, and he was out of the house
before there was a chance for further remarks.
"Now, he muttered," as he walked along, I'11
have to see old lawyer Foster, and Mrs. Foster, and
I don't know who all, besides. I don't like that."
Just as he came to the north fence of his former
residence, however, he was hailed by a clear, wide-
awake voice: "Dab Kinzer, is that you?"
Guess so," said Dab; is that you, Ford ?"
I was just going over to your house," said Ford.
And I was just coming to see you. I've been
too busy all the week, but they've let up on me at
last."
"I 've got our family nearly settled," replied
Ford, and I thought I 'd ask if you would n't like
to go out with me on the bay to-morrow. Teach
you to catch crabs."
Dab Kinzer drew a long, astonished sort of
whistle, but he finished it with, That's about what
I was thinking of. There 's plenty of crabs, and
I've got a tip-top boat. We wont want a heavy
one for just us two."
All right, then. We'll begin on crabs; but
some other day we '11 go for bigger fish. What are
you going to do next week ? "
Got it all to myself," said Dab. We can
have all sorts of a good time. We can have the
ponies, too, when we want them."
That's about as good as it knows how to be,"


1878.]







DAB KINZER.


responded the young gentleman from the city.
" I 'd like to explore the country. You 're going
to have a nice place of it over there, before you get
through. Only, if I'd had the planning of that
house, I 'd have set it back further. Not enough
trees, either."
Dab came stoutly to the defense of not only that
house, but of Long Island architecture generally,
and was fairly overwhelmed, for the first time in
his life, by a flood of big words from a boy of his
own age.
He could have eaten up Ford Foster, if properly
cooked. He felt sure of that. But he was no
match for him on the building question. On his
way home, however, after the discussion had lasted
long enough, he found himself inquiring: That's
all very nice, but what can he teach me about
crabs? We '1l see about that to-morrow."
The crab question was one of special importance,
beyond a doubt; but one of even greater conse-
quence to Dab Kinzer's future was undergoing
discussion at that very hour, hundreds of miles
away.
Quite a little knot of people there was, in a hotel
parlor; and while the blooming Miranda, now Mrs.
Morris, was taking her share of talk very well with
the ladies, Ham was every bit as busy with a couple
of elderly gentlemen.
It's just as I say, Mr. Morris," said one of the
latter, with a superfluous show of energy; there's
no better institution of its kind in the country than
Grantley Academy. I send my own boys there,
and I 've just written about it to my brother-in-law,
Foster, the New York lawyer. He '11 have his boy
there this fall. No better place in the country, sir."
But how about the expenses, Mr. Hart ? asked
Ham.
Fees are just what I told you, sir, a mere noth-
ing. As for board, all I pay for my boys is three
dollars a week. All they want to eat, sir, and good
accommodations. Happy as larks, sir, all the time.
Cheap, sir, cheap !"
If Ham Morris had the slightest idea of going to
school at a New England Academy, Miranda's
place in the improved house was likely to wait for
her; for he had a look on his face of being very
nearly convinced.
She did not seem at all disturbed, however, and
probably her husband was not looking up the school
question on his own account.
That was the reason why it might have been
interesting for Dab Kinzer, and even for his know-
ing neighbor, to have added themselves to the
company Ham and Miranda had fallen in with on
their wedding tour.
That night, however, Dab dreamed that a gigan-
tic crab was trying to pull Ford Foster out of the


boat, while the latter calmly remarked: There!
did you ever see anything just like that before?"

CHAPTER VI.

THAT Saturday morning was a sad one for poor
Dick Lee!
His mother carefully locked up his elegant ap-
parel, the gift of Mr. Dabney Kinzer, the previous
night, after Dick was in bed, and, when daylight
came, he found his old clothes by his bedside.
It was a hard thing to bear, no doubt, but Dick
had been a bad boy on Friday. He had sold his
fish instead of bringing them home, and then had
gone and squandered the money on a brilliant
new red neck-tie.
Dat's good nuff for me to w'ar to meeting, "
said Mrs. Lee, when her eyes fell on the gorgeous
bit of cheap silk. "Reckon it wont be wasted on
any good-for-nuffin boy. I '11 show ye wot to do
wid yer fish. You's getting' too mighty fine, any-
how."
Dick was disconsolate for a while, but his humility
took the form of a determination to go for crabs
that day, mainly because his mother had long since
set her face against that tribe of animals.
Dey's a wasteful, stravagant sort ob fish," re-
marked Mrs. Lee, in frequent explanation of her
dislike. Dey 's all clo'es and no body, like some
w'ite folks I know on. I don't mean the Kinzers.
Dey's all got body nuff."
And yet that inlet had a name of its own for
crabs. There was a wide reach of shallow water
inside the southerly point at the mouth, where,
over several hundred acres of muddy flats, the

depth varied from three and a half to eight feet,
with the ebb and flow of the tides. That was a
sort of perpetual crab-pasture, and there it was
that Richard Lee determined to expend his ener-
gies that Saturday.
Very likely there would be other crabbers on the
flats, but Dick was not the boy to object to that,
provided none df them should notice the change in
his raiment. At an early hour, therefore, Dab and
Ford were preceded by their colored friend, they
themselves waiting for later breakfasts than Mrs.
Lee was in the habit of preparing.
Dick's ill fortune did not leave him when he got
out of sight of his mother. It followed him down
to the shore of the inlet, and compelled him to give
up all idea, for that day, of borrowing a respectable
boat. There were several belonging to the neigh-
bors, from among which Dick was accustomed to
take his pick, in return for errands run and other
services done for their owners; but, on this par-
ticular morning, not one of them all was available.
Some were fastened with ugly chains and padlocks.


[JULY,






DAB KINZER.


Two were hauled away above even high-water
mark, and so Dick could not have got them into
the water even if he had dared to try; and as for
the rest, as Dick said, Guess dar owners must
hab borrowed 'em."
The consequence was that the dark-skinned
young fisherman was for once compelled to put up
with his own boat, or rather his father's.
The three wise men of Gotham were not much
worse off when they went to sea in a bowl than
was Dick Lee in that rickety little old flat-bottomed
punt.
Did it leak ?
Well, not so very much, with no heavier weight
than Dick's; but there was reason in his remark
that Dis yer's a mean boat to frow down a fish in,
w'en you cotch 'im. He's done gone suah to git
drownedd"
Yes, and the crabs would get their feet wet and
so would Dick; but he resigned himself to his cir-
cumstances and pushed away. To tell the truth,
he had not been able to free himself from a linger-
ing fear lest his mother might come after him,
before he could get afloat, with orders for some
duty or other on shore, and that would have been
worse than the little old "scow," a good deal.
Reckon it's all right," said Dick, as he shoved
off. It'd be an awful risk to trus' dem nice clo'es
in de ole boat, suah."
Nice clothes, nice boats, a good many other nice
things, were as yet beyond the reach of Dick Lee,
but he was quite likely to catch as many crabs as
his more aristocratic neighbors.
As for Dabney Kinzer and his friend from the
city, they were on their way to the water-side at an
hour which indicated smaller appetites than usual,
or greater speed at the breakfast table.
Plenty of boats, I should say," remarked Ford,
as he surveyed the little "landing" and its vicinity
with the air of a, man who had a few fleets of his
own. "All sorts. Any of'em fast?"
"Not many," said Dab; "the row-boats, big
and little, have to be built so ti. ii stand pretty
rough water."
How are the sail-boats?"
Same thing. There's Ham Morris's yacht."
That? Why, she's as big as any in the lot."
Bigger, but she don't show it," said Dab.
Can't we make a cruise in her?" said Ford.
Any time. Ham lets me use her whenever I
like. She 's fast enough, but she 's built so she'll
stand most anything. Safe as a house if she's
handled right."
Handled !"
Ford Foster's expression of face would have done
honor to the Secretary of the Navy, or the chairman
of the Naval Affairs Committee in Congress, or any


other perfect seaman, Noah included. It seemed
to say: As if any boat could be otherwise than
well sailed with me on board."
Dabney, however, even while he had been talk-
ing, had been hauling in from its float and grap-
nel," about ten yards out at low water, the very
stanch-looking little yawl-boat that called him
owner. She was just such a boat as Mrs. Kinzer
would naturally have provided for her boy,-stout,
well made and sensible,-without any bad habits
of upsetting, or the like. Not too large for Dabney
to manage all alone, the "Jenny," as he called her,
and as the name was painted on the stern, was all
the better off for having two on board.
The inlet 's pretty narrow for a long reach
through the marsh," said Dabney, and as crooked
as a ram's-horn. I'll steer and you pull till we 're
out o' that, and then I'll take the oars."
I might as well row out to the crab-grounds,"
said Ford, as he pitched his coat forward and took
his seat at the oars. "All ready?"
"Ready," said Dab, and the "Jenny" glided
gracefully away from the landing with the starting
push he gave her.
Ford Foster had had oars in his hands before,
but his experience must have been limited to a class
of vessels different from the one he was in now.
He was short of something, at all events. It may
have been skill, and it may have been legs, or dis-
cretion ; but, whatever was lacking, at the third or
fourth stroke the oar-blades went a little too deeply
below the smooth surface of the water; there was
a vain tug, a little out of time," and then there
was a boy on the bottom of the boat and a pair of
well-polished shoes lifted high in the air.
You 've got it shouted Dabney.
Got what? exclaimed an all but angry voice
from between the seats.
Caught the first 'crab,'" replied Dabney,-
that's what we call it. Can you steer? Guess
I 'd better row."
No you wont," was the very resolute reply, as
Ford regained his seat and his oars; "I sha' n't
catch any more crabs of that sort. I 'm a little out
of practice, that's all."
I should say you were, a little. Well, it wont
hurt you. 'T is n't much of a pull."
Ford would have pulled it, now, if he had blis-
tered all the skin off his hands in doing so, and he
did very creditable work, for some minutes, among
the turns and windings of the narrow inlet.
Here we are," shouted Dabney, at last. "We
are in the inlet yet, but it widens out into the bay."
That's the bay, out yonder ?"
"Yes; and the island between that and the
ocean's no better'n a mere bar of sand."
How d' you get past it ? "







DAB KINZER.


Right across there, almost in a straight line.
We 'll run it, next week, in Ham's yacht. Splen-
did weak-fishing, right in the mouth of that inlet,
on the ocean side."
Hurrah exclaimed Ford. I 'm in for that.
Is the bay deep ? "
"Not very," replied Dabney, but it gets pretty
rough sometimes."
Ford was getting red in the face, just then, with
his unaccustomed exercise, and his friend added
You need n't pull so hard. We're almost
there. Hullo if there is n't Dick Lee in his dry-
goods box That boat 'll drown him, some day,
and his dad, too. But just see him pull in crabs "
Ford came near "catching" one more as he tried
to turn around for the look proposed, exclaiming:
"Dab, let's get to work as quick as we can.
They might go away."
Might fly ? "
No; but don't they go and come ?"
Well, you go and drop the grapnel over the
bows, and we'll see 'em come in pretty quick."
The grapnel, or little anchor, was thrown over
quickly enough, and the two boys were in such an
eager haste that they had hardly a word to say
to Dick, though he was now but a few rods away.
Now it happened that when Ford and Dab came
down to the water that morning, each of them had
brought a load. The former had only a neat little
japanned tin box, about as big as his head, and
the latter, besides his oars, carried a seemingly
pretty heavy basket.
Lots of lunch, I should say," had been Ford's
mental comment; but he had not thought it wise
to ask questions.
Plenty of lunch, I reckon," thought Dab at
the same time, but only as a matter of course.
And they were both wrong. Lunch was the one
thing they had both forgotten.
But the box and the basket ?
Ford Foster came out, of his own accord, with
the secret of the box, for he now took a little key
out of his pocket and unlocked it with an air of
Look at this, will you ?"
Dab Kinzer looked, and was very sure he had
never before seen quite such an assortment of
brand-new fish-hooks, of many sorts and sizes, and
of fish-lines which looked as if they had thus far
spent their lives on dry land.
Tip-top he remarked. I see a lot of things
we can use one of these days, but there is n't time
to go over 'em now. Let's go for the crabs. What
made you bring your box along? "
Oh," replied Ford, I left my rods at home,
both of 'em. You don't s'pose I'd go for a crab
with a rod, do you? But you can take your pick
of hooks and lines."


"Crabs? Hooks and lines ?"
Why, yes. You don't mean to scoop 'em up
in that landing-net, do you ?"
Dab looked at his friend for a moment in blank
amazement, and then the truth burst upon him for
the first time.
"Oh, I see! You never caught any crabs.
Well, just you lock up your jewelry-box, and I'11
show you."
It was not easy for Dab to keep from laughing in
Ford Foster's face; but his mother had not given
him so many lessons in good breeding for nothing,
and Ford was permitted to close his ambitious
"casket" without any worse annoyance than his
own wounded pride gave him.
But now came out the secret of the basket.
The cover was jerked off and nothing revealed
except a varied assortment of clams, large and
small, but mostly of good size ; tough old customers
that no amount of roasting or boiling would ever
have prepared for human eating.
What are they for,-bait ?"
Yes, bait, weight and all."
How's that ? "
Dabney's reply was to draw from his pocket a
couple of long, strong cords, bits of old fishing-
line. He cracked a couple of clams, one against
the other; tied the fleshy part firmly to the ends
of the cords; tied a bit of shell on, a foot or so
from the end, for a sinker; handed one to Ford;
took the other himself, and laid the long-handled
scoop-net he had brought with him down between
them, saying:
"Now we're ready. Drop your clam to the
bottom and draw it up gently. You 'll get the
knack of it in five minutes. It's all knack. There
is n't anything else so stupid as a crab."
Ford watched carefully, and obeyed in silence.
In a minute or so more the operation of the
scoop-net was called for, and then the fun began.
The young black rascal exclaimed Dabney.
" If he has n't gone and got a sheep's-head "
"A sheep's-head? "
"Yes; that's why he beats us so badly. It's
better than clams, only you can't always get one."
But how he does pull 'em in "
"We're doing well enough," began Dabney,
when suddenly there came a shrill cry of pain from
Dick Lee's punt.
He's barefooted," shouted Dab, with, it must
be confessed, something like a grin, "and one of
the little fellows has pinned him with his nippers."
There need have been nothing very serious in
that, but Dick Lee was more than ordinarily averse
to anything like physical pain, and the crab which
had seized him by the toe was a very muscular and
vicious specimen of his quarrelsome race.


[JULY,






DAB KINZER.


The first consequence was a momentary dance
up and down in the punt, accompanied by vigorous
howling from Dick, but not a word of any sort from
the crab. The next consequence was that the crab
let go, but so, at the same instant, did the rotten
board in the boat-bottom upon which Dick Lee
had so rashly danced.
It let go of the rest of the boat so suddenly that
poor Dick had only time for one tremendous yell
as it let him right down through to his armpits.


~'1~" 4-'-


3!,t-


the shrill whistle of the engine announced the
arrival of the morning train at the little station in
the village.
A minute or so later, a very pretty young lady
was standing beside a trunk on the platform, trying
to get some information of the flag-man.
Can you tell me where Mr. Foster lives ?"
That's the gimlet-eyed laryer from Yark? "
Yes, he's from New York," said the young
lady, smiling in his face. Where does he live ?"


-rzr'


-- -5 IV


-7. -. --.-- _.- ..-.. .4 _---- -


DICK LEE IN TROUBLE.


The water was perfectly smooth, but the boat was
full in an instant, and nearly a bushel of freshly
caught and ill-tempered crabs were maneuvering
in all directions around the woolly head which was
all their late captor could now keep in sight.
Up with the grapnel, Ford," shouted Dab.
" Take an oar We'll both row. He can swim
like a duck, but he might split his throat."
Or get scared to death."
Or eaten up by the crabs."


CHAPTER VII.

AT the very moment when the angry crab closed
his nippers on the bare big toe of Dick Lee, and
his shrill note of discomfort rang across the inlet,
VOL. V.-42.


He's got the sapiest boy, thin. Is it him as
took the Kinzer house ? "
I think likely it is. Can you tell me how to
get there ?"
Thim Kinzers is foine people. The widdy
married one of the gurrels to Misther Morris."
But how can I get to the house ?"
Is it there ye 're after goin'? Hey, Michael,
me boy, bring up yer owld rattlethrap an' take the
leddy's thrunk. She 'II be goin' to the Kinzer place.
Sharp, now "
I should say it was !" muttered the young lady,
as the remains of what had been a carry-all were
pulled up beside the platform by the skinny skele-
ton of what might once have been a horse. It's
a rattletrap "







DAB KIINZER


There was no choice, however, for that was the
only public conveyance at the station, and the
young lady's trunk was already whisked in behind
the dashboard, and the driver was waiting for her.
He could afford to wait, as it would be hours
before another train would be in.
There was no door to open in that "carriage."
It was all door except the top and bottom, and the
pretty passenger was neither helped nor hindered
in finding her place on the back seat.
If the flag-man was more disposed to ask ques-
tions than to answer them, "Michael" said few
words of any kind except to his horse. To him,
indeed, he kept up a constant stream of encour-
aging remarks, the greater part of which would have
been hard for an ordinary hearer to understand.
Very likely the horse knew what they meant, for
he came very near breaking from a limp into a
trot several times, under the stimulus of all that
clucking and g' lang now."
The distance was by no means great, and Michael
seemed to know the way perfectly. At least, he
answered, Yes 'm, indade," to several inquiries
from his passenger, and she was compelled to be
satisfied with that.
What a big house it is And painters at work
on it, too she exclaimed, just as Michael added
a vigorous jerk of the reins to the Whoa with
which he stopped his nag in front of an open gate.
"Are you sure this is the place ? "
Yes 'm, indade. Fifty cints, mum."
By the time the trunk was out and swung in-
side the gate, the young lady had followed; but
for some reason Michael sprang back to his place
and whipped up his limping steed. It may have
been the fear of being asked to take that trunk into
the house, for it was not a very small one. The
young lady stood for a moment irresolute, and
then left it where it was and walked straight up to
the door.
No bell; no knocker. The workmen had not
reached that part of their improvements yet. But
the door was open, and a very neatly furnished
parlor at the left of the hall seemed to say, "Come
right in, please," and so in she went.
Such an arrival could not possibly have escaped
the notice of the inmates of the house, and, as the
young lady from the railway came in at the front,
another and a very different looking lady marched
through to the parlor from the rear.
Each one would have been a puzzle to the other,
if the elder of the two had not been Mrs. Kinzer,
and the widow had never been very much puzzled
in all her life. At all events, she put out her hand
with a cordial smile, saying:
"Miss Foster, is it not? I am Mrs. Kinzer.
How could he have made such a mistake ? "


Yes, Miss Annie Foster. But do please ex-
plain. Where am I, and how do you know me?"
The widow laughed cheerily.
"How do I know you, my dear? Why, you
resemble your mother almost as much as your
brother Ford resembles his father. You are only
one door from home here, and I '11 have your
trunk taken right over to the house. Please, sit
down a moment. Ah! my daughter Samantha,
Miss Foster. Excuse me a moment, while I call
one of the men."
By the time their mother was fairly out of the
room, however, Keziah and Pamela were also in it,
and Annie thought she had rarely seen three girls
whose appearance testified so strongly to the healthi-
ness of the place they lived in.
The flag-man's questions and Annie's answers
were related quickly enough, and the cause of
Michael's blunder was plain at once.
The parlor rang again with peals of laughter, for
Dab Kinzer's sisters were ready at any time to look
at the funny side of things, and their accidental
guest saw no reason for not joining them.
Your brother Ford is out on the bay, crabbing,
with our Dabney," remarked Samantha, as the
widow returned. But Annie's eyes had been fur-
tively watching her baggage, through the window,
and saw it swinging up on a pair of broad, red-
shirted shoulders just then, and, before she could
bring her mind to the crab question, Keziah ex-
claimed: "If there is n't Mrs. Foster coming
through the farm gate "
My mother ? And Annie was up and out of
the parlor in a twinkling, followed by all the ladies
of the Kinzer family. It was really quite a pro-
cession.
Now, if Mrs. Foster was in the least degree sur-
prised by her daughter's sudden appearance, or by
her getting to the Kinzer house first instead of to
her own, it was a curious fact that she did not say
so by a word or a look.
Not a breath of it. But, for all the thorough-
bred self-control of the city lady, Mrs. Kinzer knew
perfectly well there was something odd and un-
expected about it all. If Samantha had noticed
this fact, there might have been some questions
asked; but one of the widow's most rigid rules in
life was to mind her own business."
The girls, indeed, were quite jubilant over an
occurrence which made them at once so well ac-
quainted with their very attractive new neighbor;
and they might have followed her even beyond the
gate in the north fence if it had not been for their
mother. All they were allowed to do was to go
back to their own parlor and hold a "council of
war," in which Annie Foster was discussed from
her bonnet to her shoes.


626


fJuLy,






DAB KINZER.


Mrs. Foster had been abundantly affectionate in
greeting her daughter; but when once they were
alone in the wee sitting-room of the old Kinzer
homestead, she put her arms around her, saying :
Now, my darling, tell me what it all means."
Why, mother, it was partly my mistake and
partly the flag-man's and the driver's, and I 'm sure
Mrs. Kinzer was kind. She knew me, before I said
a word, by my resemblance to you."


would come home. I had just one pair left white
to wear home, and I traveled all night."
Poor Mrs. Foster A cold shudder went over
her at the idea of that ink among the spotless con-
tents of her own collar-box.
"What boys they must be But, Annie, what
did they say ? "
Uncle Joe laughed till he cried, and Aunt
Maria said boys will be boys, and I half believe


.9j
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- "-" '' ,



____'___"__|__-_-'_,_--_,'__' Il.;'." I 1' J I ZL.'!- i r i

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-i' - .. I ,' I '/ I IW ;-- __' ....:--- ---" '-- ,' ----- -





tCTHE ONLY PUBLIC CONYVEYANCE AT THE STATIONN.)


"Oh, I don't mean that! How is it you are
here so soon ? I thought you meant to make a
long visit at your Uncle Hart's."
I would but for those boys."
Your cousins, Annie "
Cousins, mother You never saw such young
bears in all your life. They tormented me from
morning till night."
But, Annie, I hope you have not offended--
"Offended, mother! Aunt Maria thinks they're
perfect, and so does Uncle Joe. They'd let them
pull the house down over their heads, you'd think."
But, Annie, what did they do, and what did
you say ? "
Do! I could n't tell you in all day; but when
they poured ink over my cuffs and collars, I said I


they were sorry; but that was only a sort of a
winding-up. I would n't stay there another hour."
Annie had other things to tell, and, long before
she had finished her story, there was no further
fault to be found with her for losing her temper.
Still, her mother said, mildly:
I must write to Maria at once, for it wont do to
let those boys make trouble between us."

CHAPTER VIII.

DAB KINZER and his friend were prompt enough
in coming to the rescue of their unfortunate fellow-
crabber; but to get hii out of the queer wreck he
had made of that punt was a tough task.
I is n't drownin'," exclaimed Dick, heroically,







DAB KINZER.


as the other boat came up beside him. Jest you
take yer scoop-net an' save dem crabs."
They wont drown," said Ford.
But they 'll get away," said Dab, snatching the
scoop. Dick's head is level on that point."
The side boards of the old punt were under water
half the time, but the crabs were pretty well penned
in. Even a couple of them that had mistaken
Dick's wool for another sheep's-head were secured
without difficulty.
What luck he'd been having said Ford.
"He always does," said Dab. "I say, Dick,
how 'll I scoop you in ? "
Has you done got all de crabs? "
Every pinner of 'em."
Den jest you wait a minute."
They were quite likely to wait, for the shining
black face had instantly disappeared.
Sunk exclaimed Ford.
There he comes," replied Dab. He'd swim
ashore from here, and not half try. Why, I could
swim twice as far as that, myself."
"Could you ? I could n't."
That was the first time Dab had heard his new
acquaintance make a confession of inability, and
he could see a more than usually thoughtful ex-
pression on his face. The coolness and skill of
Dick Lee had not been thrown away on him.
If I had my clothes off," said Ford, I 'd try
that on."
Dab Kinzer, you's de best feller dar is. Wot'll
we do wid de ole boat ? burst out Dick on coming
to the surface.
Let the tide carry her in while we 're crabbing.
She is n't worth mending, but we '11 tow her home."
"All right," said Dick, as he grasped the gun-
wale of Dab's boat and began to climb over.
Hold on, Dick.
I is a-holdin' on."
I mean wait a bit. Aint you wet ?"
"Ob course I's wet."
Well, then, you stay in there till you get dry.
It's well you did n't have your new clothes on."
Aint I glad about dem !" emphatically ex-
claimed the young African. Nebber mind dese
clo'es. De water on 'em's all good, dry water, like
de res' ob de bay."
And, so saying, Dick tumbled over in, with a
spatter which made Ford Foster tread on two or
three crabs in getting away from it. It was not the
first time by many that Dick Lee had found himself
bathing without time given him to undress.
And now it was discovered that the shipwrecked
crabber had never for one instant loosened his hold
of the line to the other end of which was fastened
his precious sheep's-head.
It was a regular crabbing crew, two to pull up


and one to scoop in, and never had the sprawling
" game" been more plentiful on that crab pasture,
or more apparently in a hurry to be captured.
"What on earth shall we do with them all?"
asked Ford.
Soon's we've got a mess for both our folks,
we'll quit this and go for some fish," replied Dab.
" The clams are good bait, and we can try some
of your tackle."
Ford's face brightened a good deal at the sugges-
tion, for he had more than once cast a crestfallen
look at his pretentious box. But he replied:
"A mess How many crabs can one man eat?"
I don't know," said Dab. It depends a good
deal on who he is. Then, if he eats the shells, he
can't take in so many."
"Eat de shells? Yah, yah, yah! Dat beats
my mudder She's allers a-sayin' wot a waste de
shells make," laughed Dick. I jest wish we might
ketch some fish. I das n't kerry home no crabs."
It does look as if we 'd got as many as we 'd
know what to do with," remarked Dab, as he looked
down on the sprawling multitude in the bottom of
the boat. We '11 turn the clams out of the basket
and fill that; but we must n't put any crabs in the
fish-car. We '11 stow 'em forward."
The basket held more than half a bushel, but
there was a "heap of what Ford Foster called
the crusties" to pen up in the bow of the boat.
That duty attended to, and Dick was set at the
oars, while Dab selected from Ford's box just the
very hooks and lines their owner had made least
account of.
What '11 we catch, Dab ? "
"'Most anything. Nobody knows till he's done
it. Perch, porgies, cunners, black-fish, weak-fish,
may be a bass or a sheep's-head, but more cunners
than anything else, except we strike some flounders
at the turn of the tide."
"That's a big enough assortment to set up a
fish-market on."
If we catch 'em. We've got a good enough
day, anyhow, and the tide '11 be about right by the
time we get to work."
Why not try here ?"
"'Cause there 's no fish to speak of, and because
the crabs 'll clean your hook for you as fast as you
can put the bait on. We must go out to deeper
water and better bottom. Dick knows just where
to go. You might hang your line out all day and
not get a bite, if you did n't strike the right spot."
Ford made no answer, for it was beginning to
dawn upon him that he could teach the "'long-
shore boys," black or white, very little about fish-
ing. He even allowed Dab to pick out a line for
him and put on the hook and sinker, and Dick Lee
showed him how to fix his bait, So de fust cun-


[JULY,







DAB KINZER.


ner dat rubs agin it wont knock it off. Dem's awful
mean fish. Good for nuffin but steal bait."
A merry party they were, and the salt water was
rapidly drying from the garments of the colored
oarsman, as he pulled strongly and skillfully out
into the bay and around toward a deep cove to the
north of the inlet mouth.
Then, indeed, for the first time in his life, Ford
Foster learned what it was to catch fish.
Not but what he had spent many an hour, and
even day, in and about other waters; but he had
never had two such born fishermen at his elbow to
take him to the right place precisely, and then to
show him what to do when he got there.
Fun enough, for the fish bit well, and some of
them were of very encouraging size and weight.
Ford would have given half the hooks and lines
in his box if he could have caught from Dick or
Dab the curious "knack" they seemed to have of
coaxing the biggest of the finny folks to their bait
and then over into the boat.
"Never mind, Ford," said Dab; "Dick and I
are better acquainted with 'em. They're always a
little shy with strangers at first. They don't really
mean to be impolite."
Still, it almost looked like some sort of favorit-
ism, and there was no danger but that Dick would
be able to appease the mind of his mother without
making any mention of the crabs.
At last, almost suddenly, and as if by common
consent, the fish stopped biting, and the two "'long-
shore boys" began to put away their lines.
Going to quit ?" asked Ford.
Time's up and tide's turned," responded Dab.
"Not another bite, most likely, till late this even-
ing. Might as well pull up and go home."
Mus' look for wot's lef' ob de ole scow on de
way home," said Dick. I 'se boun' to ketch it for
dat good-for-not'in' ole board."
We 'll find it and tow it in," said Dab, "and
perhaps we can get it mended. Anyhow, you can
go with us next week. We're going to make a
cruise in Ham Morris's yacht. Will you go ? "
Will I go ? Yoop almost yelled the excited
boy. Dat's jest de one t'ing I'd like to jine.
Wont we hab fun She's jest de bes' boat on dis
hull bay. You aint foolin' me, is yer?"
He was strongly assured that his young white
associates were in sober earnest about both their
purpose and their promise, and, after that, he in-
sisted on rowing all the distance home.
On the way, the old punt was taken in tow ; but


the tide had swept it so far inside the mouth of the
inlet, that there was less trouble in pulling it the
rest of the way. It was hardly worth the labor,
but Dab knew what a tempest the loss of it might
bring around the ears of poor Dick.
When they reached the landing and began to
overhaul their very brilliant catch," Dabney said:
Now, Dick, take your string home, leave that
basket of crabs at Mr. Foster's, then come back
with the basket and carry the rest to our house.
Ford and I'11 see to the rest of the fish."
I have n't caught half so many as you have,
either of you," said Ford, as he saw with what
even-handed justice the fish were divided, in three
piles, as they were scooped out of the fish-car."
What of that ? replied Dabney. We follow
fisherman's rules down this way. Share and share
alike, you know. All the luck is outside the boat,
they say. Once the fish are landed, your luck's
as good as mine."
Do they always follow that rule ?"
The man that broke it would n't find company
very easily, hereabouts, next time he wanted to go
a-fishing. No, nor for anything else. Nobody'd
boat with him."
"Well, if it's the regular thing," said Ford,
hesitatingly. "But I'll tell who really caught 'em."
Oh, some of yours are right good ones. Your
string would look big enough, some days. Don't
you imagine you can pull'em in every time like we
did this morning. Crabs nor fish, either."
No, I s'pose not. Anyhow, I've learned some
things."
I guess likely. We'll go for some more next
week. Now for a tug! "
The boat had already been made fast, and the
two boys picked up their strings of fish, two for

each, after Dick Lee had started for home, and
heavy ones they were to carry under that hot sun.
"Come and show the whole lot to my mother,"
said Ford, "before you take yours into the house.
I want her to see them all."
All right," replied Dab. But he little dreamed
of what was coming, for, when he and Ford marched
proudly into the sitting-room with their finny prizes,
Dabney found himself face to face with, not good,
sweet-voiced Mrs. Foster, but, as he thought, the
most beautiful young lady he had ever seen.
Ford Foster shouted: "Annie you here? Well,
I never "
But Dab Kinzer wished all those fish safely back
again, swimming in the bay.


(To be continuedd)







THE STORY OF PERSEUS.




THE STORY OF PERSEUS.
(Adafted from, the German.)

BY MiARY A. ROBINSON.


ANY gods and goddesses were
worshiped by the ancient
Greeks and Romans, but, be-
sides these, they also believed
in demigods, so called because,
according to tradition, their
parentage was half divine and
half human. These beings
were generally distinguished
for beauty, strength, valor or
other noble qualities. The
stories of their adventures told
by ancient writers are as in-
teresting as fairy-tales, and
are so often represented in
painting and sculpture, and
mentioned in books, that it
is well for every one to know
something about them.
Perseus, one of these demi-
gods, was the son of Jupiter,
the highest of the gods, and of Danae, a mortal
woman. It had been prophesied to DanaE's father,
Acrisius, king of Argos, that a grandson would
take from him both his throne and life, and he
therefore caused Danae and her child to be shut
up in a wooden box and thrown into the sea. The
box was caught in the net of a fisherman of the
isle of Seriphos, by whom its inmates were put
safely on shore. The king of the island, whose
name was Polydectus, afterward took Danae under
his special care, and brought up her son as if he
had been his own.
When Perseus had grown to be a young man,
the king urged him to go in search of adventures,
and set him the task of bringing him the head of
the terrible Gorgon named Medusa. Perseus
asked the aid of the gods for this expedition, which
he felt obliged to make, and in answer to his
prayers, Mercury and Minerva, the patrons of ad-
venturers, led him to the abode of the Graee, the
woman-monsters, so called because they had been
born with gray hair. Perseus compelled them to
show him where lived the nymphs who had in
charge the Helmet of Hades, which rendered its
wearer invisible. They introduced Perseus to the
nymphs, who at once furnished him with the hel-
met, and gave him, besides, the winged shoes and
the pouch, which he also needed for his task.
Then came Mercury, and gave him the Harpe, or


curved knife, while Minerva bestowed upon him
her polished shield, and showed him how to use
it in approaching the Gorgons, that he should not
be turned into stone at the sight of them.
Perseus donned his shoes and helmet, and flew
until he reached the abode of the Gorgons. These
were three hideous daughters of Phorcus, and sis-
ters of the Graem. One only of them, Medusa, was
mortal. Perseus found the monsters asleep. They
were covered with dragon scales, and had writhing
serpents instead of hair, and, besides these charms,
they had huge tusks like those of a boar, brazen
hands and golden wings. Whoever looked on
them was immediately turned to stone, but Perseus
knew this and gazed only on their reflection in his
shield. Having thus discovered Medusa, without
harm to himself, he cut off her head with his
curved knife. Perseus dropped the head of Medusa
into the pouch slung over his shoulder, and went
quickly on his way. When Medusa's sisters awoke,
they tried to pursue the young demigod, but the
helmet hid him from their sight and they sought
him in vain.
At length he alighted in the realm of King
Atlas, who was of enormous stature and owned a
grove of trees that bore golden fruit, and were
guarded by a terrible dragon. In vain did the
slayer of Medusa ask the king for food and shelter.
Fearful of losing his golden treasure, Atlas refused
the wanderer entertainment in his palace. Upon
this Perseus became enraged, and taking the head
of Medusa from his pouch, held it toward the
huge king, who was suddenly turned to stone. His
hair and beard changed to forests, his shoulders,
hands and bones became rocks, and his head grew
up into a lofty mountain-peak. Mount Atlas, in
Africa, was believed by the ancients to be the
mountain into which the giant was transformed.
Perseus then rose into the air again, continued
his journey, and came to Ethiopia, where he beheld
a maiden chained to a rock that jutted out into the
sea. He was so enchanted with her loveliness that
he almost forgot to poise himself in the air with his
wings. At last, taking off his helmet so that he and
his politeness might be perceived, he said: "Pray
tell me, beauteous maiden, what is thy country,
what thy name, and why thou art here in bonds?"
The weeping maiden blushed at sight of the
handsome stranger, and replied:
I am Andromeda, daughter of Cepheus, king of






THE STORY OF PERSEUS.


this country. My mother boasted to the nymphs,
daughters of Nereus, that she was far more beauti-
ful than they. This roused their anger, and they
persuaded Neptune, their friend, to make the sea
overflow our shores and send a monster to destroy
us. Then an oracle proclaimed that we never
should be rid of these evils intil the queen's daugh-
ter should be given for the monster's prey. The
people forced my parents to make the sacrifice,
and I was chained to this rock."
As she ceased speaking the waves surged and
boiled, and a fearful monster rose to the surface.
The maiden shrieked in terror, just as her parents
came hastening to her in hopeless anguish, for
they could do nothing but weep and moan.
Then Perseus told them who he was, and boldly
proposed to rescue the maiden if they would
promise to give her to him as his wife.
The king and queen, eager to save Andromeda,
at once agreed to this, and said they would give
him not only their daughter, but also their own
kingdom as her dowry.
Meanwhile, the monster had come within a
stone's throw of the shore, so Perseus flew up into
the air, put on his helmet, pounced down upon
the creature, and killed it, after a fierce struggle.
He then sprang ashore and loosed the bonds of
Andromeda, who greeted him with words of thanks
and looks of love. He restored her to the arms
of her delighted parents, and entered their palace
a happy bridegroom.
Soon the wedding festivities began, and there
was general rejoicing. The banquet was not yet
over, however, when a sudden tumult arose in the
court of the palace. It was caused by Phineus,
brother of Cepheus, who had been betrothed to his
niece Andromeda, but had failed her in her hour
of need. He now made his appearance with a
host of followers and clamored for his bride.
But Cepheus arose and cried:
"Brother, art thou mad? Thou didst lose thy
bride when she was given up to death before thy
face. Why didst thou not then win back the
prize? Leave her now to him who fought for her
and saved her."
Phineus held his peace, but cast furious looks
both at his brother and at Perseus, as if hesitating
which to strike first. Finally, with all his might, he
threw a spear at Perseus, but missed the mark.
This was the signal for a general combat between
the guests and servants of Cepheus and Phineus


and his followers. The latter were the more
numerous, and at last Perseus was quite surrounded
by enemies. He fought valiantly, however, strik-
ing down his opponents one after another, until he
saw that he could not hold out to the end against
such odds. Then he made up his mind to use his
last, but surest, means of defense, and crying, Let
those who are my friends turn away their faces,"
he drew forth the head of Medusa and held it
toward his nearest adversary.
Seek thou others," cried the warrior, "whom
thou mayst frighten with thy miracles !"
But in the very act of lifting his spear he grew
stiff and motionless as a statue. The same fate
came upon all who followed, till at last Phineus
repented of his unjust conduct. All about him
he saw nothing but stone images in every con-
ceivable posture. He called despairingly upon his
friends and laid hands on those near him; but all
were silent, cold and stony. Then fear and sorrow
seized him, and his threats changed to prayers.
Spare me-spare my life!" he cried to Per-
seus, and bride and kingdom shall be thine I"
But Perseus was not to be moved to mercy, for
his friends had been killed before his very face.
So Phineus shared the doom of his followers and
was turned to stone.
After these events Perseus and Andromeda were
married, and together they journeyed to Seriphos,
where they heard that the king had been ill-treat-
ing Dana6. When, therefore, the tyrant assembled
his court to see how Perseus had done his task, the
son avenged his mother's wrongs by petrifying the
assemblage-king, courtiers and all! Then he
gave back to the nymphs the helmet, shoes and
pouch they had lent to him, returned the knife to
Mercury, and presented Minerva with Medusa's
head, which ever after she wore upon her shield.
With his mother and his wife Perseus then
sought his timid grandfather Acrisius, and found
him, not in his own realm of Argos, but at Larisa,
the city of King Teutamias, looking on at some
public games. Perseus must needs meddle in the
exercises, and so managed to fulfill the old prophecy
and accidentally slay his grandfather by an unlucky
throw of the discus, a kind of flat quoit.
Perseus, who deeply mourned his grandfather's
fate, soon exchanged the kingdom of Argos for
Tiryns, and there founded the city of Mycenae.
He lived very happily with his wife, and ruled his
kingdom long and wisely.





632 FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS. [JULY,



THE STORY LITTLE NELL READ.

NELL'S mother had gone away for a long visit, and had left her little
girl with grandma, who loved her so much and was so kind to her that
Nell was very happy and very good,-except sometimes. Her naughty
times were lesson-times. Grandma, who lived in the country, far away
from schools, taught Nell herself; and Nell did n't like it.
That was queer, too, for she dearly loved stories-when grandma read
them-and could lie down on the soft rug before the fire, and play
with the kitty, and just listen. But when she had to sit up in a chair by
the table, and read for herself,-out loud, so that grandma could be sure
she got all the long words right,-she would look so cross that it made
grandma sad to see her, and long for a way to cure her little girl's naughty
temper.
She did find a way. One day, she came home from the store with a
beautiful new book, all red and gold outside, and full of pictures within.
"There!" she said to Nell, "you'll surely like to read that!" But Nell
did n't think so, and, when grandma opened the book and asked her to
read the middle story, she looked crosser than ever.
Why, it's the story of 'A Naughty Girl '" she said. "I don't believe
I '11 like that, grandma." But grandma said nothing; only looked as if
she were listening very hard, and Nell read on:
Once up-on a time, there was a naught-y lit-tle girl. She had been
naught-y so long that two lit-tle frowns had grown quite fast to her eye-
brows, and the cor-ners of her mouth turn-ed down so tight that she on-ly
had room for a lit-tle bit of a smile, which did not come ver-y oft-en,
be-cause it felt so crowd-ed ; and, when she was ver-y an-gry, it just slip-ped
a-way al-to-geth-er "
"Stop there!" said grandma, in such a funny tone that Nell looked up
to see what she meant. Grandma stood beside her, holding a little mirror
so that Nell could not help seeing her own face in it.
She looked and looked, and her face grew as red as the cover of her
book, and she wanted to cry, but at last she thought better of it, and,
looking up shyly, said:
Grandma, I know! I 'd do for a picture to put to this girl's story!
My face is just like that! But see now "-and she opened her eyes very
wide, and raised up her eyebrows so far that the two little frowns in them
got frightened and tumbled off, and the wee smile that came to her lips






FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS.


found so much room that it stretched itself into a real good laugh, and
grandma laughed too, and they were very merry all that day.
Grandma's little mirror taught Nell a lesson, and now, when she feels


THE FROWNS TUMBLED OFF.

the frowns coming back, she lifts her eyebrows almost up to her hair, and
runs for her red book, and she and grandma both laugh to think how
Nell was made into a picture to fit the naughty girl's story.







JACK- IN -THE -PULPIT.


t .


4- e
I ,^-;--::-- ..
,,' s "' / I- ; -
H: tf -," -'-^ ",- Y''L.- -










WELL, here's July come again, warm and bright





and happy, and the children of the Red School-
house are as busy as bees getting ready for the
Fourth. I suppose you are, too, my dears. Have
as good a time as you can, and help some other
good time, too. But don't blo








yourselves up, for that is not the proper way to

For my part, I don't quite see the use of burn-
ing so much gunpowder by way of celebrating the
Fourth of July. From all I can make out, the
mere making sure of that day burned up quite
enough of it.
But then, I 'm only a peaceable Jack-in-the-
.. ., ,





S J 1J1C l N -T i-iE U i-'I T.









Pulpit,here's July coman't be expected to und bright
sand happy, andthese things.e children of the Red School-
house are as busy as bees getting ready for the







Fourth. I suppose you ake it coo, my dears. Havetly,
my dears. Don't treat business and help some though it were







a lighted fire-cracker witlt a short fuse.
Firsbody to have a good timessage from DeacBut donGreen about








ARIOSTO'S FAIRY-STORY.
yourselves up, forn says that is not the propereaching is way to
rise in the world.








or my part, he I don't quite see the use of burn-
ing so much gunpowder by way of celebrating the







Four text, th of July. From all I can make a try at the
mere making sure of that day burned up quite
enough of it.
But then, I 'm only a peaceable Jack-in-the-






sermoPulpit, and, of courselves, I can't be expected to uhe sender-
stand al the things.
Ariosto, the Italian poeBut take tlls a story nd quietly,
my dears. Don't treat business as though it were





a lighted fate obliged h-cracker to pass certain seasons in
the First comes a messsnake. If anybody injured her during
ARIOSTO'S FAIRY-STORY.





THE Deaon says that, as p, he never after shareaching is warmich
workblessings that no he illo no more; but thane who, in
a te of her ugly looks, pitied an have a try at the
sere crowned for the rest of their lives with good
fortune, had all their wishes granted, and became




truly blessed.
Ariosto, the Italian poet, te s a s tor y of a fairy,
whose fate obliged her to pass certain seasons input saf
the form of a snake. If anybody injured her during
those seasons, he never after shared in the rich
blessings that were hers to give; but those who, in
spite of her ugly looks, pitied and cared for her,
were crowned for the rest of their lives with good
fortune, had all their wishes granted, and became
truly blessed.
Such a spirit," adds the Deacon, "is Liberty.
And neither we nor our country can be kept safe


without her. Since, too, Liberty cannot be kept
safe without sincerity and manhood --
There, my dears, this gives you a good start.
Now go on with the sermon.

A CONGRESS OF BIRDS.
Brooklyn, N. Y.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I have something to tell you about
some of your friends the birds, and perhaps your chicks can help
answer the questions the anecdote raises.
One summer evening of 1846, at Catskill Village, vast numbers of
whip-poor-wills and swallows began to gather from all directions
about an hour before sunset, and in a few minutes the sky was dark
with their wings. They assembled above a high hill, and over the
cemetery which was on this hill they circled and wheeled and mixed
together, calling and twittering in a state of great excitement. They
were so many that, standing anywhere in the cemetery, which cov-
ered about forty acres, one might have knocked them down by hun-
dreds with an ordinary fishing-rod.
The birds, though of such opposite natures, mingled in a friendly
way, and seemed to be trying to settle some question of importance
to both parties. Soon, the sun sank behind the mountains, and,
while his last rays were fading, the birds went off in squads, as they
had come, and all quickly disappeared.
Whence they came, whither they went, and why they assembled,
are yet mystenes to, your friend, Z. R. B.

MIDSUMMER NOON.
HERE are some lines I heard a summer or two
ago. It seems to me that John Clare-the man
who wrote them, I believe-must have made them
when he was near my pulpit, for they tell just how
things are here these sultry noons.
"The busy noise of man and brute
Is on a sudden hushed and mute;
Even the brook that leaps along
Seems weary of its merry song,
And, so soft its waters sleep,
Tired silence sinks in slumber deep.
The taller grass upon the hill,
And spider's threads, are standing still;
The feathers, dropped from moor-hen's wing,
Which to the water's surface cling,
Are steadfast, and as heavy seem
As stones beneath them in the stream."

PIGS WITH SOLID HOOFS, AND PIGS THAT ARE
NOT PIGS.
IN Texas there are pigs whose hoofs are not
divided like those of ordinary pigs, but are each in
one solid piece; at least, so I 'm informed in a
paragram fresh from England.
If this is true, it is a strange thing; but here's
something that seems even stranger still:
The Guinea-pig is not a pig, and there are no
Guinea-pigs in Guinea. However, there are plenty
in Guiana, and, as the names of these places are
very much alike, perhaps people got mixed in
calling them. The places are far enough apart,
though, I believe; but this you can see by your
maps.
At any rate, the Guinea-pig is a sort of cousin
of the squirrel and rabbit, and is fond of potato
and apple peelings, carrot-tops, parsley, and cab-
bage ; but he likes best the leaves from the tea-pot.

JACK.
WELL, well! How much the dictionary men
have to answer for! Now, who, without them,
ever would have thought that the name "Jack"-
my name-is sometimes used in an offensive sense ?
For instance, as I 'm told, these fellows make
out that "Jack Frost" means a mischievous boy;


[JULY,






JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


"Jack Towel is a servants' towel; and a Jack"
is a machine to do the work of a common work-
man, to lift heavy weights. Then there's a "Boot
Jack," taking the place of a servant; a Smoke
Jack," another servant, to turn a spit; a Jack-
a-Napes," or saucy fellow; Jack Tar," a common
sailor ; and "Jacket," a little Jack or coat.
Now, I 'm half inclined to take this ill of the
dictionary men. But perhaps I'm misinformed
about them.
"TAKE THAT!"
THIS is not slang, my cears ; not a bit of it. It
is but the translation of an inscription on an ancient
Egyptian ball, a leaden one, used as a kind of
bullet and thrown from a sling. Sometimes the
name of the slinger was put on the ball,-so that
the wounded could tell whom to thank, perhaps.
The phrase "Take that 1 has not entirely gone
out of fashion, I believe ; and yet the world ought
to be old enough to know better, by this time.

ANTS AGAIN.
TALKING about ants last month put me in mind
of a scrap, written long ago by the Little School-
ma'am, and which one of my chicks sent to me.
Here it is, with the picture that belongs to it:





.;


I "
0 ,-; ;"4

Af &t& ,


4--
Nd ,
I ~ -;~' "


"AND AWAY WENT THE PIECE OF BREAD!"

Hurrah said an ant to her sister,
I've found a nice piece of bread;
We may push and pull, to carry it home,
Where the little ants wait to be fed."

So one pulled till she fell over backward,
And the other pushed with her head,
When down came a thief of a sparrow,
And away went the piece of bread !

AIR THAT SINGS AND TALKS.
No doubt, my dears, you think that it is only
men and phonographs and such things that talk
and sing; so did I until lately. But I've just
heard that there are some places in the world
where the air itself sings and talks. This fact, I'm


told, is as old as the hills and woods ; and it is easy
to prove, too. All you have to do is to go into the
open air and blow a horn, or call aloud, or sing in
a strong clear voice, among the hills, or by the
edge of a wood, or even near a big empty barn.
Give this a good trial, my chicks, and let me
know the result. Even if you don't succeed, there's
no doubt the experiment will prove interesting, and
you'll do no harm. Don't be afraid of disturbing
the birds; they're friends of mine, as you know,
and, if you tell them you are doing it for me, they
will gladly put up with a little extra noise.

PLANTS WITH HAIR.
SOME plants have hairs on their leaves, making
them feel rough to the touch, as I've heard. This
can be seen very plainly by looking at a common
mallow-leaf through a microscope. And there is
the mullein, too, with very stiff hairs.
Now, what are these hairs for? I have been
wanting to know this for some time, and should be
glad if some of you clever chicks would look into
the matter, and tell me what you find out.

AN ODD HYMN.
Philadelphia, Pa.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Will you please ask the Little School-
ma'am, Deacon Green, and all your young folks, if they know and
can tell me where to find the rest of the verses that go with this one ?
"The Choctaw and the Cherokee,
The Kickapoo and Kaw,
Likewise the Pottawatamie,-
0 teach them all thy law!"
I think it is part of an old-fashioned missionary hymn. I once
heard a boy repeat the whole of it, but this is the only verse I can
remember.-Yours truly, L. M. B.

ANCIENTS AND MODERNS, ONCE MORE.
F.'s question, in the May number, about when
the Ancients left off and the Moderns began, has
been answered by Charles J. Brandt, E. L. S.,
Stevie B. Franklin, H. J. W., "Amneris," S. B. A.,
Edward Liddon Patterson, A. R. C., C. C. F., and
Bessie P.
They all say pretty much the same thing, which
is, that Ancient history left off about the year A. D.
476, with the fall of the western Roman Empire;
that then came the Middle or Dark Ages ; and that
the Moderns began about the year A. D. 1450, or
a little while before the discovery of America. But,
of course, if you don't feel quite sure that these
chicks have given correct answers, you 'd do well
to look farther into the matter.

THE INCOMPLETE TEXT.
Ml DEAR JACK : The letter E is the one to be added to that church-
wall text which you gave to your chicks in May. If this vowel is set
in at the right places, the text will read:
"Persevere, ye perfect men;
Ever keep these precepts ten !
This refers, of course, to the Ten Commandments that came through
Moses. In a postscript you will find the names of the bright chicks
who sent in the whole text in its complete form. Please give them
my good wishes.-Yours sincerely, SILAS GREEN.
P. S.-Fred S. Mead, Charles F. Fits, Mary H. Bradley, Lou D.
Denison, H. J. W., Arnold Guyot Cameron, "Nane," A. R. C,
"Daisy," Nellie Emerson; Bessie and Charlie Wheeler; Marie
Armstrong, Neils E. Hansen, Katie Burnett, Lucy V. McRill,
0. H., Bessie Dorsey, S. C., Edward A. Page. Bessie P.; Gladys
H. Wilkinson, of Manchester, England; and Lane MacGregor.


1878.)


2-- --








030 THE LETTER-BOX.


THE LETTER-BOX.


Boston, Mass., May 2, 1878.
DEAR SAINT NICHOLAS: Will you give me room to rectify a slip
of the pen ? My Sing-away Bird," in your May number, is not a
thrush, but a sparrow; and I ought to be ashamed of the mistake,
for I knew he was a sparrow, and had already spoken of him, in a
story in verse, published three or four years ago, as
"Only a sparrow with a snowy throat."
Not only that, I hear his music every year, when I go into the White
Mountain region, and consider it one of the chief charms of the wild
scenery there. He sang this partic1.l- ;._ to me last autumn, on
the banks of the Androscoggin at i....-. I .- 1
I ask his pardon and yours for the blunder, and send the stanza as
I have corrected it to make it tell the truth:

'T was the white-throated sparrow, that sped a light arrow
Of song from his musical quiver;
And the lingering spell slid through every dell
On the banks of the Runaway River.
"O sing sing-away sing-away "
And the trill of the sweet singer had
The sound of a soul that is glad.

I hope there are plenty of the ST. NICHOLAS children who know
our wild birds well enough to see for themselves that I must have
meant the one commonly known as the "Peabody-bird," so styled
because his song seems always to be calling some human estray of
that name, who never comes.
But, indeed, I am afraid that none of us know our musical little
friends of the fields and woods as well as we should and might know
them, if we studied into the matter.-Truly yours,
Lucy LARCOM.

THE story of Perseus, in this number, has been set in a frame of
stars by the old astronomers. In Professor Proctor's sky-map in
ST. NICHOLAS for January, 1877, you will find the constellation.


New York.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAs; I find in Swift's "Gulliver's Travels" that
he speaks of a "voyage to the country of the Houyhnhnms." Here
are six consonants all in a row, and I would like to know if such a
word can be correctly pronounced.
If it is pronounced "hoy-nims," and I doubt the possibility of pro-
nouncing it any other way, is there any need of so many consonants?
-Yours truly, CHARLES A. REED.

The word Houyhnhnms is the name given by Dean Swift to an
imaginary race of horses endowed with reason. It is in two syllables,
hou-yhnhnms, and may be pronounced "hoo-inmz," with the accent
on either syllable, but the voice ought to be quavered in sounding
the "n." It is likely that Swift spelled the word so as to get a set of
sounds as nearly as possible like the gentle whinny of a horse when
pleased.

Aintab, Northern Syria.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I saw a little piece in your magazine, in the
department of "Jack-in-the-Pulpit," entitled "Persian Stoves," and
I thought you would like to know that the native people in Turkey,
right here, do just the same; and, to tell the truth, it is very comfort-
able sometimes. They call it tandoor. I have a brother in Constan-
tinople studying, also a younger brother, and a dear little sister named
Isabelle, here. We have taken your magazine ever since it started,
and I think I at least shall never tire of it. Love to Jack and the
Little Schoolma'am, Deacon Green, and all our old friends.-Your
loving friend and reader, ELIZABETH M. TROWBRIDGE.


Portsmouth, N. H.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am sure you will like to hear how a cat
adopted a mouse, so here is the whole story for you.
A mother cat, named Tabby, had all her kittens taken away except
one, and she loved and petted this one little kitten as much as one
little kitten could be loved and petted. But she had a heart so full
of love that she could not possibly use it all up on one kitten; so, one
day, she brought home the cunningest little mouse I ever saw. That
little mouse, when she found herself in the cat's mouth, must have
thought there was not much more fun for her, but that Mrs. Cat was
taking her home to make a luncheon upon her. But Tabby carried
her very carefully, so as not to rumple her smooth coat of fur nor
break any of her tiny bones. When Tabby reached home, she
dropped the mouse into the warm nest where lay her kitten, and


immediately began to wash off the dust of travel, just as she daily
bathed Kitty. Mousey liked this so well that she remained very
quiet and quickly dropped asleep.
Tabby's mistress soon became interested in the happy family, and
supplied bits of cheese and other things that mice like to eat. Now
and then she saw this mouse perched on the back of the sleepy little
kitten, and nibbling a bit of cheese held between her two front paws.
Old Tabby would raise her head from her nap, to see what the little
one was doing, and Mousey would hide her lunch in one cheek, and
look so innocent that Tabby would go to sleep again. Then Mousey
would out with her cheese and go on nibbling. Thus, cat, kitten
and mouse lived happily together until, one unfortunate day, Tabby
had company; and before she could introduce the company to her
family, the company had introduced the pet mouse to itself, and had
swallowed her at one mouthful. Tabby tried hard to act as if her
company were welcome, but she wore a very sad look during the
whole visit. This is a true story.-Yours sincerely, A. J. B.


THE ST. NICHOLAS CLUB, of Philadelphia," a company of young
puzzlers, have sent us four clever metrical answers to Mr. Cranch's
poetical charades published in the April number. We are sorry that
we have not room to print all these answers, but here are two of
them :
FIRST CHARADE.
When swiftly in the car you glide,
With friend or lover by your side,
All fear or danger you deride.

But should the car be overset,
You surely will be in a pet,
Although no ill betide.

When safely in your home you rest,
With foot upon the caret pressed,
You heed no gloom outside.

THIRD CHARADE.
A man named Nicholas, with heavy fick,
On bar of steel scarce made a dent or nick.
Pick, Nick a passing jester cried, in pleasant part
I wish it were picnic," said he, "with all my heart."


ALL the illustrations to the article called "Easter in Germany,"
printed in the April number, were credited in the table of contents
to Mr. J. F. Runge. But the pictures entitled "An Easter Fancy,"
"An Easter Carriage," and "An Easter Load," were drawn by Miss
Fanny E. Come, the author of the article, and should have been
credited to her.

A CORRESPONDENT, H. F. G., sends us the following novel and
audacious comparisons of words:

COMPARISONS OF WORDS.
(P. stands for Positive; C., Comparative; S., Superlative.)
P. A part of the foot.... Sole P. A personal pronoun..Ye
C. Pertaining to the sun. Solar C. A division of time...Year
S. Comforted .... .....Solaced S. Is used in making
bread ............Yeast
P. A river in Scotland..Dee
C. An animal.......... Deer P. A knot .... ....... Bow
S. One who does not be- C. A tedious person....Bore
lieveininspiration.. Deist S. To make great pre-
tensions........... Boast
P. A negative .........No
C. A Bible worthy .....Noah P. A personal pronoun..You
S. Dost know ...... Knowest C. A pitcher .......... Ewer
S. Accustomed ........Used
P. To divide........... Halve
C. A port of France .... Havre P. A line of things.....Row
S. The time of gathering C. A loud, deep voice or
grain and fruit.....Harvest sound............. Roar
S. To cook............Roast
P. A grain............. Corn
C. An angle ...........Comer P. To movewith alever.Pry
S. With an upper mold- C. Previous ...........Prior
ing............... Comised S. Appraised.......... Priced


[JULv,







THE LETTER-BOX.


P. A secret agent .......Spy P. A part of the body...Neck
C. A steeple ...........Spire C. A river of South-west
S. Seasoned ........... Spiced Germany......... Neckar
S. Nearest ............Next


P. A body of water .....Sea
C. A prophet ..........Seer
S. At an end ..........Ceased

P. A song............. Lay
C. A stratum ..........Layer
S. Fastened with a cord. Laced

P. A meadow .........Lea
C. One of Shakspeare's
royal characters.... Lear
S. Rented ............Leased


P. A river in Italy .... Po
C. To examine steadily
and earnestly ...... Pore
S. A pillar ........... Post

P. A vowel........... .E
C. A spike of corn. .... Ear
S. A point of compass..East

P. A tool.............. Hoe
C. W hitish ............Hoar
S. An army ..........Host


P'. An insect. .......... lea
C. To mock ......... Fleer P. A personal pronoun.. I
S. Sheared ............Fleeced C. .n' ............. Ire
S. ~_ I I with ice .....Iced


P. A path .............Way
C. One who weighs ..... .. 1..
S. D esolate ............ .

P. A very common ab-
breviation ......... Co
C. The center........... Core
S. Border of the sea.... Coast


P. Compensation. .....Fee
C. Terror..............Fear
S. An entertainment .... Feast

P. To clothe...........Indue
C. To suffer .......... Endure
S. Persuaded ..........Induced


Brattleborough, Vt.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been trying to start a fresh-water
aquarium which shall be self-supporting. I have failed, so far, because
I have been unable to procure the proper oxygen-producing plants.
The little brook-plants I have tried do not answer the purpose.
Can you tell me where I can find the i ii .. I ..., or their seeds:
Vallisneria spiralis (or tape-grass), (or water-star-
wort), and A nacharis alsinastrozm (or water-thyme) ?-Yours truly,
E. M. P.
In general terms, the first and third plants named by E. M. P. are
to be sought for in very quiet streams, or in ponds; but, as they are
quite submerged, they may escape attention. Callitricke is to be
found floating on the surfaces of small ponds or pools. But perhaps
E. M. P. is a little too far north for Vallisneria. A nackaris is in
Canada, and should, by rights, be in Vermont.
However, E. M. P. need not be restricted to these. In quiet fresh-
water streams, and especially in ponds, there are Myriop/yllhnzs (or
water-milfoil), Ce-ratopfylznms (or hornwort), the aquatic Rantincu-
luses, and the Utricularias (or bladderworts), all of which naturally
grow submerged and are quite as good for producing oxygen as those
named by E. M. P. Water-cresses will do to get along with until the
other plants can be found.


DEAR ST. NICKOLAS: Daisie and me thought we would rite you a
letter, and tell you that we did the answers to some of your puizles in
the May number. We did them most all our own self. We are twin-
sisters, and we are both just as old as each other. We go to skool
every day. So good by.-From you're little friends,
DOTTIE AND DAISIE.
P. S.-We both send our love to your little girls and boys.


New York.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought you might like to know how to
press flowers. The first thing to do, after you have gathered them,
is to lay them smoothly between tissue-paper; then you must have
felt drying-paper to put each side of the tissue-paper. The felt must
be changed every day. The tissue-paper must not be changed at all,
only the felt. Then you must have two pieces of smooth board, to
put the papers between, and a box full of stones for a presser. We
used a common soap-box, and put in stones to the weight of about
thirty-five pounds. The handles were made of rope. I have found
this a splendid way to press flowers, as it absorbs the moisture from
the flower and does not leave it at all brittle.
Will you publish this, so that all the little girls who take ST. NICH-
OLAS may have the opportunity of pressing flowers ?-and I hope
they may enjoy it as much as I did.-Your little friend,
RosIE S. PALMrER.



WE have received letters in answer to Frank R. M.'s question
about an English painter, printed in the May Letter-Box," from
Carrie Johnson, M. S. Bagley, Alice Lanigan, Lillie M. Sutphen,
Seth K. Humphrey, Hannah I. Powell, Frank R. Bowman, James
Hardy Ropes, Grant Beebe, Isabelle Roorbach, and H. A. IM.
Some say the name of the painter is Sir Joshua Reynolds; others


say it is John Opie, who, also, was a great painter; and one or two
think that while Frank R. M.'s anecdote about the reply "With
brains, sir! belongs to Opie, all the rest of the description concerns
Reynolds only. And this last seems to be the fact.
John Opie was born at St. Agnes, near Truro, in the county of
Cornwall, England, in the year 1761; and died in the city of London,
April 9th, 1807.


SEVERAL of our young correspondents seem to have taken to
writing poetry of late. The two following letters and poems-printed
just as they came to us-will serve as samples of those received:

Winchester, Tenn.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS, Seeing so many writing to you of my age
I thought I would send you a letter. I am ten years old. and am
advanced for my age. I like to read you very much, &c.-Your
constant reader ALBERT MARKS.
P. S.-Please publish this poetry. which I wrote.

I. I looked o'er the
Place where Xerxes
Massed his millions
Before the grecian army,

2. I looked where Xerxes
Massed his hundred of ships
Before the small grecian
Navy. I looked o'er the place

3. Where Xerxes reared a mighty
Throne. I looked where ambitious
Casar fell benea the assassin's dagger.
I looked where brave Leonidas braved
The millions of Xerxes.

4. I looked where Vesuvius laid
Pompeii under ashes and Lava. I looked
Where Marco Bozzaris bled for the
liberty of Greece.
Brooklyn, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS I have taken an idea lately, of writing
poetry, and indeed, when I find myself at a loss to know what to do,
I take out my little blank book and begin some little verses, some
pretty good and others to my disappointment, the opposite. I first
write my poem on paper and if thought good, put it in my book.
The following is a little piece on

SPRING.
Oh, look! The grass is getting green
The buds begin to sprout
The blossoms on the oak-tree
Are beginning to come out

But hark! Who is that singing?
It is the robin gay
He has come back to greet us
Upon this happy day

But when we see the streamlet
Released from ice and snow
And down its pebbly routine
In music sweet and low,


And when at last the may flowers
Their sunny faces bring
It makes us feel so happy
And reminds us it is spring


R. S. F.


BOOKS RECEIVED.
FROM THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY:
YUSUF IN EGYPT: AND HIS FRIENDS. By Sara Keables Hunt.
Eight full-page illustrations. Yusufis a boy donkey-driver of Cairo,
in Egypt. In telling the story of this brave little fellow's ups and
downs in the world, the author describes many interesting scenes and
incidents of modern Egyptian life, and conveys in an attractive way
much information about the country and its people, customs, ancient
temples and history.
NAN'S THANKSGIVING. By Hope Ledyard. Large type; illus-
trated. A bright and sweet little story ofa girl's unselfishness.
SATISFIED. By Catharine M. Trowbridge. Illustrated. AUNT
Lou's SCRAP-BOOK. By Harriet B. McKeever. Large type; illus-
trated. ANGEL'S CHRISTMAS. By Mrs. O. F. Walton. Illustrated.







THE RIDDLE-BOX.


DIAMOND REMAINDERS.
BEHEAD and curtail :. -r
words having the ...: i :. .'
tions: I, Arid; 2, to run away; 3, cattle-
drivers; 4, to consume; 5, to endeavor.
-and leave a complete diamond reading
horizontally as follows: I, A consonant;
2, to cut off; 3, a wanderer; 4, an in-
strument for writing; 5, a consonant.
CYRIL DEANE.

A CONCEALED BILL-OF-
FARE.
IN each of the following sentences, fill
the blank with a word to be found con-
cealed in its sentence:
i. Let each guest have some -.
2. Eating some will be effectual in
satisfying hunger 3. Nothing but terri-
ble starvation could make one eat such
-- 4. Ah! a morsel of will taste
good. 5. Give me, I beg, good brown
bread and a well-cooked --. 6. Don't
take cold ham; eat some of this freshly
cooked, hot 7. Stop I entreat














f6,


N^


THE RIDDLE-BOX.



EASY "ANNIVERSARY" PUZZLES.
(Three Anniversaries.)


c"N


GEOGRAPHICAL SINGLE
ACROSTIC.
THE initials will give one of England's
principal sea-ports.
i. A river of Ireland. 2. A river in
Farther India. 3. A river in France.
4. The largest river in Western Asia.
5. A river in France. 6. A river in Italy.
7. A river in Prussia. 8. A river in North
America. 9. A river in Siberia. s.

EASY HIDDEN LATIN
PROVERB.
FIND in the following sentence a Latin
proverb in common use:
The sachem seized a garment on which
was embroidered his totem, pushed the
Italian, Orfilgi, to the ground, and pre-
cipitately fled. s. T.

DROP-LETTER PUZZLE.
M--H-H-Y-H-L-T-E-U-S-I-E-.
EVERY other letter is omitted ; the an-
swer is a well-known proverb.
j. at. and E. AM.


THESE three pictures represent three annual anniversaries, the names of which are to be found The character of each anniversary
is appropriately symbolized in its picture. CHARL.


you! Don't give the child any more 8. What if I should
eat more ? 9. He has had quite enough to. Let me
whisper to you. There sits a lady who, it seems to me, is very fond
of-- ii. You will take, I hope, a spoonful of-- ? 12. She has
helped me twice to o'B.

SQUARE-WORD.
A. AN article used every day as human food. 2. A current report,
generally unauthorized. 3. A mineral much used in polishing metals.
4. Part of the most important organ of the human body. 5. A myth-
ical being, supposed by the ancient Greeks to inhabit lonely woods.
B.

ANAGRAM DOUBLE-DIAMOND AND INCLOSED
DOUBLE WORD-SQUARE.
FROM the sentence "Mad at pert hens," form a double-diamond
of which the center shall be a double word-square.
The diamond must read, across: i. In profitable. 2. A covering
for the head. 3. Paired. 4. An implement used in writing. 5. In
profitless.
The word-square must read, downward: I. A casual event. 2. Par-
took of food. 3. A spelled number. c. D.


EASY BEHEADINGS.
i. BEHEAD an indication of sleepiness, and leave an artificial shade.
2. Behead another indication of sleepiness, and leave an animal.
3. Behead need, and leave an insect. 4. Behead an article used in
packing crockery, and leave a reckoning. 5. Behead an awkward
bow, and leave a kind of cloth. 6. Behead a locality, and leave net-
work. 7. Behead to loiter, and leave a dolt. 8. Behead sudden
blows, and leave parts of a horse. 9. Behead to turn, and leave a
peg. 1o. Behead a stain, and leave a piece of land. ii. Behead a
bough, and leave a farm in California. 12. Behead loose, and leave
want. A~. G. A.
SHAKSPEAREAN ENIGMA.
My first is in Proteus, also in Thurio;
My second in Thurio, also in Proteus;
My third's in Alonso, also in Sebastian;
My fourth in Sebastian, also in Alonso;
My fifth is in Oliver, also in Sylvius;
My sixth in Sylvius, also in Oliver;
My seventh is in Ferdinand, also in Dumain;
My eighth in Dumain, also in Ferdinand;
My whole is in Shakspeare's "As You Like It."
E. D. A.


[JULY,







THE RIDDLE-BOX.


PICTORIAL PUZZLE.


I .~


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Fnom the eight letters of the word which describes the central picture, spell words which name the sixteen objects
shown in the border pictures. n.


NUMERICAL PUZZLE.


ACROSTIC.


AFTER I had read t 2 3 4 5'6 7 8 9 zo 12 xt 13, I was convinced THE initials and finals name a fragrant flower. I. A domestic
that she was thoroughly conversant with the I 2 3 4 5 6-7 8 9 1012 tt 13, animal. 2. A summer luxury. 3. A troublesome insect. 4. A kind
as she is fond of styling polite literature. c. D. of fruit. 5. A short poem. ISOLA.


CHARADE.
BENEATH his lady's window, erst,
In hopeless mood,
A minstrel stood.
As, passionate, he smote my first,
From his sad lips my second passed,
And from my first rang out my last.

A sudden joy possessed his soul.
As down the night air sweetly stole
A strain responsive from my whole. L. w. H.

SYNCOPATIONS.


DOUBLE, REVERSED ACROSTIC.
A LITTLE verb used every day,
Whose letters spell the same each way;
My next, which means to lengthen out,
Spells just the same if turned about ;
At close of day you'll find my third,-
Reversed, you have the self-same word;
My fourth, implying "held supreme,"
The same each way, though strange it seem.
An act, these four initials name,
Backward or forward spelled the same. j. P. B.

ENIGMA.


I. SYNCOPATE a square column, and leave an adhesive salve; THIS enigma is composed of twenty-one letters, and is the name
syncopate the salve, and leave a person found in a bindery; synco- of one who is dear to thousands of little folks.
pate again, and leave a prayer. 2. A ladies' apartment in a seraglio, I. The 4 6 2 9 to 12 is a mountain in California. 2. The 5 I 8 13 is
and leave injury; again, and leave a meat. 3. A rough fastening, part of your face. 3. The 7 17 1x 3 19 are parts of harness. 4. The
and leave to strike together; again, and leave to cover the top. L. E. 18 2o 16 is a color. 5. The 15 14 21 is a girl's nickname. c. D.


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-



..ii








THE RIDDLE-BOX.


[JULY.


EASY ENIGMA. HOUR-GLASS PUZZLE.
My 6 5 4 is wrong-doing. My 3 2 1 is an article of female dress i. To perceive. 2. King of Persia. 3. A boy's nickname. 4. A
sometimes worn over the hair. My whole is a lively ball-game, not consonant. 5. An enemy. 6. Aches. 7. Subjects to a feudal lord.
now so popular as formerly. H. H. D. Centrals, read downward, an Alpine animal. A. C, CRETT.

BIOGRAPHICAL DOUBLE ACROSTIC. REVERSALS.
THE initials and finals name a noted American. I. A naval officer i. REVERSE current, and give a wild animal. 2. Reverse part of a
of high rank. 2. Brigands. 3. A singing-bird of America. 4. Part bridge, and give part of a city. 3. Reverse a swallow, and give a
of a circle. 5. A brave man. 6. A blacksmith's implement. 7. A stopple. 4. Reverse to praise, and give consisting of two. 5. Reverse
small wild animal somewhat like a weasel. L. A. an oblique view, and give a lively dance. ISOLA.





ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN JUNE NUMBER.


EASY BErHEADINGS.-Heart, tear, ear, a. ACCIDrNTAL HIDINGS.-Metrical Compositions: Pean (hofe and);
LABYRINTH.-The dotted line and arrows show the route to the glee (eagle eye) ; ode (good enough). Portions of Time: Hour (thou
center: rove); eon (June one) ; era (tower and).
ANAGRAMS.--. Rhapsody. 2. Numerical.
.3. Depredation. 4. Exonerates. 5. Deraiig-
.--------------- ing.
S.PI---- CTORI PAL UZZLE -An ox. Turn the
Si picture so that the right-hand edge becomes
.---------- the bottom.
MELANGE.-I. Clover, lover. 2. Clover,
Sclove. 3. Clover, cover. 4. Clove, love.
5. Lover, lore. 6. Cover, over. 7. Cover,
core. 8. Over, rove. 9. Rove, roe.
S I EASY CLASSICAL ACROSTIC.-DenmoS-
thenes.
S. ENIGMA.-"A stitch in time saves nine."
S------------- -- EASY DIAMOND PUZZLE.-

ELF
ALTER


S-- _CHARADE.-Catacomb; cat, a, comb.
NUMERICAL PUZZLE.-Levi Nathan; levi-
athan.
------ FouR-LETTER SQUARE-WORD.-
--- KING
IDOL
NOTE
GLEE
EASY CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.-Obio.
SMETAGRAM.--. Batter. 2. Fatter. 3. Lat-
ter. 4. Matter. 5. Patter. 6. Tatter. 7. Rat-

SEAsy AcRosTIC.-Constantinople.
BLANK WORD-SYNCOPATIONS.-i. Staging
-tag, sing. 2. Sporting-port, sing. 3. Rou-
S lette-let, route.
CHARADE.-Woman ; W, man.
TRANSPOSITIONS OF PROPER NAMES.-
i. Pensacola, clean soap. 2. Taxes, Texas.
3. Carolina, an oil-car. 4. Colorado, cool road.
5. Washington; saw nothing, thin wagons.
6. Load fir, Florida. 7. New York, worn key.
S------8. Baltimore, broil meat. 9. Daniel; nailed,
---- --- -- ------- denial. no. Catherine, in the acre.
S- .... -- ---- SQUARE-WORD.-
I '1 I 1 I S ...EALO E
L M ERGE

I EAGLE
L ..-- ..-- 1, SLEEP
ADDITIONS.-i. Imp, ale; impale. 2. Bulls,
eye; bull's-eye. 3. Nan, keen; Nankin.
4. P, age; page. 5. Den, Mark; Denmark.
S6. Asp, ire; aspire.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received, before May 18, from "Pansy," Ben Merrill, Arnold Guyot Cameron; May
and Charlie Pray; Bessie Hard, Harry H. Wolbert, "Bessie and her Cousin," Nessie E. Stevens, Allie Bertram, Nettle A. Ives, L. E. B.,
Alice Lanigan, M. E. Bagley, Katie Burnett, Bessie Dorsey, Hard and Tough," E. L. S., Stella N. Stone, Clara S. Gardiner, "Winnie;"
X. Y. Z., and Bob White; Arthur Stowe, R. T. French, Lizzie Folsom, Lizzie C. Lawrence, Bessie Taylor, Laura Randolph; John D.
Cress, M. R. Cress, and W. S. Eichelberger; Carrie J. Willcox; Frank and Ralph Bowman; Nellie Emerson, "Black Prince," Neils E.
Hansen; Bessie and Charlie Wheeler; "Daisy," S. V. Gilbert, Rufus B. Clark, W. H. McGee, Eva Doeblin, Edith Louise Jones, Harold
S. MacKaye; Alice B. MacNary and Mary C. Taylor; Florence L. Turrill, "Dottie and Daisie," Nellie C. Graham, S. Norris Knapp,
Carrie L. Bigelow, George C. Harris, Jr., Eddie F. Worcester, Charles H. Stout, Frank H. Nichols, Susie Hermance, "Birdie and Allie;"
Alien Bigelow Hathaway and Harold Gray Hathaway; Anna E. Matthewson, H. B. Ayers, Austin D. Mabie, Kaween," Lewis G. Davis,
Beech-Nut," E. M. Fergusson, Julie Baker, Mary H. Bradley, Alfred C. Beebe, Charles N. C .: I. Hunter and Frances Hunter;
"Prebo and Prebo's Uncle," Cosy Club," Georgine C. Schnitzspahn ; V. and G. S.; Floy an ..II. i .., Austin M. Poole, Georgie B.,
Eddie Vultee, Bessie L. Barnes, Louisa K. Riedel; and Gladys H. Wilkinson, of Manchester, England.