St. Nicholas, vol. 6, no. 1

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ST. NICHOLAS.

NOVEMBER, 1878.

[Copyright, 1878, by Scribner & Co.]

A BOY'S SERVICE.

BY ELIZABETH UNDERHILL.

SPEED boldly, Jean; the safety of God's elect
depends on thy fleetness and courage," said a
French peasant woman, as, standing at the door of
a hut perched over a gorge in the Cevennes mount-
ains, she bade farewell to her young son. He,
mounted on a small white pony, looked fearlessly
out of his bright blue eyes, and, tossing back his
abundant tresses of fair hair, bent to kiss the
mother's hand ; then descending a steep, winding
path, over which his intelligent animal picked a
slow, sure footing, the young rider disappeared in
the dark aisles of a pine forest.
Jean Cavalier was ten years old; his cradle had
been rocked to the howl of mountain storms; he was
accustomed to scale heights with fearless agility, be-
ing sure-footed on paths that only the mountain-born
could safely tread, and he now dauntlessly faced a
hazardous ride and the peril of imprisonment to save
the lives of five hundred Christian men and women.
It was nearly noon; all the huts, sheep-cotes, and
cottages in the lower adjoining valleys were deserted
by their inhabitants, who had started at dawn for
the secluded mountain of Bourges, there to seek
consolation and strength in the worship of God.
This was the period of that so-called religious"
war in France, which lasted twenty years, and in
which the king, Louis XIV., employed sixty thou-
sand soldiers to exterminate three thousand Prot-
estants, because they persisted in worshiping their
Maker in their own fashion. Through the upper
valleys, for some weeks previous to the time of this
story, there had been found, in rock cavities and
hollow trees, bits of wood carved with the words,
" Manna in the desert," and with certain symbolic
marks whereby all the faithful knew that the great
pastor, Brousson, emerging from his secret cavern
VOL. VI.-I.

dwelling, would meet and minister to his persecuted
flock in the afternoon of the first day of the year
1703, at the Bourges Mountain. Notwithstanding
all precaution, news of the intended convocation had
reached the town of Hais, and Captain Daiguirrier,
with six hundred men, was coming up from the
plain, eager to surprise and butcher the innocent
congregation,-a kind of achievement not unfre-
quent in those tragic years.
Just before noon to-day, Jean, when climbing
the rock back of his father's hut in search of a
missing goat, spied the red bonnets of the caval-
cade, traversing a defile far below; he knew well
their terrible purpose, and, hurrying down, said to
his mother:
I have seen the king's troops going up; there
is none to give warning but me."
Twenty minutes later, Jean was riding alone
through the dim forest, intently conning the net-
work of paths so familiar to him, and trying to
choose one by which he could elude and outstrip
the assassins. Issuing, at length, from the woods,
he paused, hesitating between two routes,-one
smoother, though longer,-by which, trusting to
his nimble pony, he might speedily arrive, unless
overtaken by the troops; the other led through
ravines and over rocks into the very heart of the
mountains, and was a hazardous path, even for a
skillful climber. If he took the latter, he must
abandon his horse and trust his own speed and
agility. Finally deciding on the smoother road, he
was turning toward it when he heard the sound of
a conch-shell, and, on the instant, a flash of scarlet
streamed around a spur of the forest. Quick-witted
Jean rode at once to meet the advancing soldiers.
Whither go you?" asked the captain.

VOL. VI.

No. I.

A BOY'S SERVICE.

To the upper hills to seek my father," replied
Jean.
This is not a safe country for youngsters like
you to travel in alone," said the officer.
I have confidence in God. Those who do no
ill need fear none," returned the child, calmly.
You shall come with me," continued the cap-
tain, suspiciously; "so fine a boy must not grow
up a rebel. I shall dedicate you to the service of
the king and the church."
Jean made no answer, riding on with his captors,
apparently in submissive composure; but the vigi-
lant little fellow, quick in expedients, contrived to
fall back gradually, till, when the dismounted troops,
painfully climbing, were half-way up a steep ascent,
Jean was among the hindmost. A brook wound
round the base of the hill, and Jean knew that
near the stream was one of those caverns, common
in a country of volcanic formation, the entrance to
which was concealed by thick, clustering bushes.
Seizing an opportune moment, the active boy
turned his pony, dashed down into the brook,
leaped from his steed, and ran into the cavern.
Some minutes elapsed before the more clumsy sol-
diers could descend; when they reached the stream,
the pony was scrambling homeward over the rocks,
and no trace of his rider was visible. Little Jean
tremblingly crouched in his covert during their
brief, vain search; but soon, eager for a larger
prey, the pursuers returned to join the rest of the
band.
When the last echoes had died away, and only
the brook's gurgle was audible in the stillness, Jean
ventured from his retreat, aware that the distance
had been increased, and the time for rescue les-
sened by his capture; but his childhood's steadfast
faith never dreamed of failure; prayer and act were
one, as lightly leaping from bowlder to bowlder,
by intricate windings about pinnacle and crest,-
here following the bed of a mountain stream, there
swinging himself by gnarled roots over deep chasms,
-the intrepid boy hasted breathlessly on.
Not far away, some hundreds of resolute men and
women were assembled on a rocky platform amid

the desolate hills. Muskets stood near, ready for a
sudden call to arms. Around the worshipers was
a chestnut forest, through whose enormous trunks
and leafless boughs the wind moaned in melan-
choly cadence, accompanying their psalmody and
supplication. On a flat, smooth stone, at the base
of a precipitous rock, stood the minister, who, while
little Jean sped toward them, was thus addressing
the congregation:
"What fear you? Did not God nourish his
people in the wilderness? Did he not send the
ravens to feed his prophet, and will he not again
work miracles? Has not his Holy Spirit comforted
his afflicted children ? He consoles-he strength-
ens us. Will he not, in time of need, cause his
angel to go before us?"
Concluding thus, the preacher advanced to a
natural stone slab, serving as a sacramental altar,
and the assembly, in reverential stillness, to which
peril added a solemn awe, came forward two by
two, bareheaded. A cry startled them.
Fly the enemy comes !" rang in shrill, child-
ish treble from above the kneeling multitude, and
looking up they saw, on the rocky summit before
the pastor, a little figure, whose white goat-skin
coat and locks of gold gleamed in the mellow
sunset, as the rocks and caverns re-echoed his
vibrating cry,
"Fly! the enemy comes!"
The startled throng, gazing up, knew not the son
of their neighbor and friend, Roland Cavalier. The
solemnity of the place, and the danger always near
their worship, had infused their exalted minds with
a sense of the immediate presence of the super-
natural, and the simple-hearted peasants thought
the child, Jean, a veritable messenger of heaven.
They quickly dispersed through pass and defile,
and when the troops arrived, the early stars shone
down on the deserted rocks and lonely forest.
Jean joined a party of fugitives, and lived to be a
valiant and famous defender of the Protestant faith.
While the commander cursed him as a treacherous
little rascal, most of the congregation always main-
tained that God sent an angel to save them.

[NOVEMBER,

WHO TOLD? 3

WHO TOLD?

.' ', ': "' : BY SARAH WINTER KELLOGG.

g .IlT -HE Prince of Wales is going
S to be at Fort Erie to-morrow
S afternoon."
;A. The person speaking was
.- Pansy Corbyn; the person
.. spoken to was Abby Gilfillan,
Pan's room-mate. At Pan's
S announcement, she looked
S up eagerly and said with en-
.. thusiasm: Is he ?"
** i-.-id you once," said Pan.
"i-!,! I wish I could see him!"
exclaimed Abby, without heeding
Pan's fun. "Is he coming over here ? "
"No, he is n't coming. Is n't it mean?"
"I think it's strange he is n't. He might find
something in Buffalo worth seeing; but I can't
understand what he wants to stop at Fort Erie for,
unless it is to see the spot where his folks were
whipped. Did n't we whip the British there ?"
Pan colored as she owned that she did n't know,
and declared that she never could remember history.
"Well," said Abby, "it's interesting to be study-
ing ancient Greece when we are ignorant of his-
torical ground which we can see from the seats
where we recite. Oh! I wonder if the Prince could
see a flag if we should fly one from our window.
Oh! dear I dear! I do want to see him. I do wish
we could, Pan."
Well, why can't we?"
Why can't we?" Abby repeated, "because
we are such gumps as to be at boarding-school."
"I'll tell you, Abby," said Pan, making her
tone low and confidential, "if you 'll go, I'll man-
age it. I '11 ask permission to go to Black Rock to
see Aunt Porter: mother told Mrs. 'C.'" (this was
the principal's wife) "to let me go whenever she
could. And when I 've got permission, I'11 ask her
to let you go with me. But instead of going to Aunt
Porter's, we '11 go across the river to see the Prince."
I 'm afraid we 'll be found out. There '11 be
somebody there who knows us."
Nobody in Buffalo knows us except the school-
girls and teachers. We 'll protect ourselves with
veils and parasols. At any rate, I am willing to
run some risk for the sake of seeing the Prince."
"So am I," said Abby stoutly. I 'm just crazy
to see him. I know he must be perfectly lovely.
Oh! I wonder if he 'll be dressed in royal purple

and ermine, and scarlet and gold. Do you think
he 'll have plumes in his cap ? I wonder if we 'll
see the crown jewels Oh I guess he'll have on
a crown."
The next afternoon, Pan set out with Abby osten-
sibly for her Aunt Porter's. In reality, after buying
some bouquets for the prince, they took a street car
for the ferry. Hiding behind their parasols and
with veils drawn down, they joined the crowd there
waiting for the boat. They skulked around large
men and behind women's spreading hoops, strain-
ing their eyes back of the barge veils to assure
themselves that there were no familiar faces about
them. The ferry-boat was crowded with people
eager for a sight of royalty; but as far as the
runaways could determine, all were strangers to
them.
"Abby, my sweet duck, I believe we are safe,"
Pan said in a low tone, as they stood at one end of
the boat, watching the bright Niagara.
"Yes," said Abby, venturing to push her veil to
one side, "and we 're having such a nice time.
Think of those poor, cooped-up girls we 've left
behind us. I wish we hadbrought Angelica along."
"I don't wish so," said Pan. "A secret isn't
safe with three."
That is very true," said a voice beside them.
How it startled those guilty girls They invol-
untarily snatched at their veils, and just as involun-
tarily whirled their faces toward the speaker.
"Perhaps you remember," continued the voice,
"Gilbert Stuart's illustration of this."
The girls stared at the man with the voice, who
was standing near them-a smallish, red-haired,
but not unhandsome person. He continued:
'I know a secret,' said Stuart, 'that's one,'
and he chalked down the figure I; 'my friend
knows it,' he chalked another I beside the first; 'I
tell it to you,' and he wrote a third figure I beside
the other two; 'now, how many know my secret?
II I, -one hundred and eleven, instead of three.'"

I believe you never saw two girls more uneasy
than were Pan and Abby during this narration.
Pan squeezed and pinched Abby's hand, and Abby
squeezed and pinched back. Each understood
this to mean that they must get away from this red-
haired impertinence just as soon as possible. So
before the anecdote was fairly told, they were mov-
ing away from the speaker.

WHO TOLD?

They did not see him again till the boat had
reached the Canada side. In getting ashore, they
found themselves beside him. He volunteered
some information about the order of reception ex-
ercises, but the frightened girls fell back in the
human stream without a word to him.
Impudent thing!" said Pan. If he speaks
to me again, I shall scream murder till I bring the
Prince to my rescue."
But the truants soon forgot themselves in the
interest of the vivid scene.. There were flags and
festoons, bowers and wreathed arches, flower-
wrought words of welcome and loyalty.
The girls, thrilling with an undefinable kind of
devotion toward they knew not what, ran forward
with the eager crowd, eager as the most devoted of
the Queen's subjects, toward the point where loyal
shouts of welcome and blasts from brazen throats,
and the booming of cannon, told the arrival of the
heir-apparent to the most powerful of earth's king-
doms. They could hardly refrain from cheering
as they came in sight of the staging and canopy
where the Prince was to be presented to his people.
And when they saw the beaming young man
himself, bowing to the enthusiastic multitude, they
were half wild with enthusiasm.
Is n't he lovely ?" cried Abby, stretching up
her head to be rid of a towering, obstructing bon-
net in front of her.
Perfectly splendid," answered Pan, also stretch-
ing her neck up, and from side to side, dodging a
bushy, uncovered head.
I never saw anything so sweet," said Abby.
"Or so grand," said Pan. "He's perfectly
sublime." Then she added petulantly, "I wish
Canadians were n't so big; I have n't seen an inch
of the Prince, except the top of his head."
"I have n't either," said Abby. I wish I could
be a giant for an hour."
"Then you'd be found out."
"Here's an empty carriage; let's climb into
it," said Abby.
Oh! let's! said Pan. "Then we can have
a splendid view."
It was a handsome, open carriage, and they
climbed in, wondering that it had not been appro-
priated by some one else as an observatory. In
their excitement their veils were thrown aside, and
their parasols tilted back over their shoulders.
Scarcely were they seated when Abby gave Pan a
startling nudge, uttering a low, alarnful exclama-
tion.
There are Mrs. C. and all the girls i" she said.
They got on their veils in frantic haste, and
threw up their parasols as screens. Then they
tried to abandon themselves to enjoy the remainder
of the performance. What they did do was to

fidget and worry, and to peep under their parasols
in the direction of Mrs. C.'s party, and to issue
bulletins to each other as to the maneuvers of the
same. But at length they noticed some signal
movements in the Prince's party. They were
stretching up, straining their eyes and ears, when
the coachman of the appropriated carriage, turning
to them, said,
You 'll have to get out now; the Prince wants
his carriage."
Think of it: those girls who wanted to keep
themselves hid, had perched themselves in the
Prince's carriage,-in the most conspicuous posi-
tion but one on the grounds !
They got very quickly to their feet, with excla-
mations of surprise, confusion and apology. Abby
jumped out at the right, Pan came out with a fly-
ing leap at the left, landing almost in the arms of
the red-haired young man who had told them
about Gilbert Stuart.
"I wonder the coachman allowed us to sit
there," Abby said, as they went on, trying to lose
themselves in the crowd.
Pan explained that it was ex-President Fillmore's
carriage, taken over from Buffalo for the occasion.
"The coachman, I suppose, is used to republican
impudence."
They hastened toward the river, anxious to get
the first boat, and arguing that it would take some
time for Mrs. C. to collect her girls and get them
into marching line, and so she would miss the first
boat.
"Only think," said Abby, "if we hadn't run
away, we should have come along like honest folks
with Mrs. C. and 'the girls,' instead of skulking
along this way."
I wish we had n't tried to cheat," Pan said, as
they crowded into the little cabin. Once estab-
lished there, they would be unable to get out, so
great was the jam. They were securely packed to
one side of the cabin, and had raised their veils for
a taste of fresh air, when the keen-eyed Abby
whispered cautiously:
"Don't turn your head; draw down your veil;
steady They are all on board, over to your left
hand. Face around this way. We must keep our
backs to them. Mrs. C. is looking straight at
you."
There they were forced to stand in that herring-
pack, heated to the verge of suffocation beneath
their thick veils, afraid to turn their heads, afraid
to have their voices heard, afraid to make any kind
of movement, lest some .;:.:.i; ~ r of manner
might betray them. Then, shortly after the start,
some of the girls by some slight re-arrangement
of the crowd, were brought nearer the truants,
actually touching. To nudge each other, to press

[NOVEMBER,

WHO TOLD?

each other's toes, were the only interchanges of the Prince. All regretted that Pansy and Abby

sympathy that Abby and Pan dared to make, even
when Rach. Keeler said to Angelica,
"I should think those two girls would smother
under those thick veils. Wonder why they wear
them."
This remark aroused people's attention, and
everybody in the neighborhood began to stir
around and twist about, as well as the close pack
would allow, and to stare at the veiled figures, and
to ask who they were and what the matter was, and

had missed the treat.
Don't you wish you had put off your visit to
your aunt till to-morrow? one of the girls asked.
Yes," said Pan, growing very red. Then she
asked for a cup of tea to divert attention from
herself.
How is your Aunt Porter ? Mrs. C. asked.
"Tolerably well," said Pan, faintly, her face
fairly blazing. "What if aunt should be dying this
minute! she thought.

7"J '74
a~

"I;
III ",I ; *,,. ~it, 6'

Did .

why they wore veils, etc., etc. Oh how the faces
under those brown veils did burn! Then, after
another while, Rach. Keeler set her foot on Pan's
skirt, for this school-girl wore her walking dress
longer at that time than when she was five years
older. For the rest of the ride, on the boat, she
was pinned to the floor.
By avoiding the car which Mrs. C. took, our
truants, without further adventure, reached the
academy in time for tea. At the table, the one
subject of comment was the trip to Fort Erie, and

Pan wished she could go through the floor.
What should she say? She gazed at her plate
with the desperate decision of pretending that she
had not heard the question.
"Yes," Alice Hyde said, "Mrs. Porter went to
see the Prince. I saw her there."
Pan jumped to take advantage of this light. She
looked dp, in a sprightly way, at Mrs. C. and said:
"Did you ask if Aunt Porter went to see the
Prince? Oh, yes, she went."
"She was in Mrs. Judge Watt's carriage," con-
tinued Alice.

WHO TOLD?

"Why, no," interposed Rach. Keeler. "That
was n't Mrs. Porter with Mrs. Watt; that was Mrs.
Kinne. She looks like Mrs. Porter; but it was n't
Mrs. Porter; was it, Pan?"
The entrapped, bewildered girl could think of
nothing to do or to say, and guilty eyes to her neighbor, and pretend
ignorance of the appeal, and talk, talk, in a volu-
ble, rattling, irrelevant way.
At the first pause, the neighbor asked in a tone
to be heard by half the table. "Why did n't you
go with your aunt to see the Prince ?"
The distressed, hunted Pan lost all self-control,
and snapped out an order to be let alone.
"I fear you are not well," said Mrs. C., sur-
prised.
"My head aches," stammered Pan.
Pansy's troubles were not dismissed with the dis-
mission of the table. She was plied with questions
and questions until, half-frantic with her vain efforts
to evade them, she had involved and compromised
herself, and had got half the girls in the house
"mad at her."
At last, she rushed up to her room, locked
the door, and fell on the bed sobbing.
Oh Abby, Abby, Abby !" she cried, "this is
horrible. I 've told fifty lies about this mean, mean
scrape, and I'11 have to tell fifty more before I hear
the last of it."
Yes," said Abby, with much sympathy, but in
deep despondency.
"I would n't go through with what I've suffered in
the last six hours to see all the kings and queens on
the face of the earth in a row. The Prince was n't
anything wonderful to see, anyhow. He looked
like the young men we see on the street here every
day."
He is n't half as good looking as lots of them,"
said Abby, with a toss of her head; resentful, but
tearful.
No, he is n't," Pansy said, sitting up on the side
of the bed, her eyes and nose very red. "He's
homely; he looks soft; I wouldn't give a pin to
see such a flat-looking fellow. I can't bear him. I
wish he had n't come to Fort Erie; wish he had n't
come to America; wish he had never set foot on the
western hemisphere. What did he want to come
traipsing across the Atlantic ocean for? Why did
n't he stay at home and mind his own business in-
stead of coming to that contemptible Fort Erie, and
getting us into this horrible tangle? I '11 never
forgive him."
That wretched, wretched night which Pan and
Abby tossed and groaned and dreamed through,
they will never forget in this world. Should they
confess or not? This was talked over, and cried
over, and sobbed over, and prayed over, let us

hope. And it was yet undecided when, the next
morning, they were dressing and waiting for the
prayer-bell. They felt so restless, that before this
rang, they went down-stairs.
In the room where the morning worship was to be
held, they found Mr. C., the principal, reading the
morning paper, and Mrs. C. giving some last touches
to the arrangement of the room before sounding
the prayer-bell. Mrs. C., a large-hearted, motherly
woman, kissed Pansy, asking how the headache
was, while Mr. C. put out his hand to Abby.
With a great, yearning throb toward her own
dear mother, working for her off in a Pennsylvania
-.lII , saving for her, praying for her, Pan put
her head on Mrs. C.'s shoulder, and told the story;
while Abby, wishing she had a shoulder to hide
her tears on, was explaining the situation to Mr.
C. When the story had been fairly told, Mrs. C.
said:
I know, my dear girls, that you will feel doubly
thankful for having made this confession, when I
tell you that Mr. C. and I knew of this matter
before you entered the room this morning. We
read of it in the morning paper."
"In the paper?" cried Pansy, while Abby sat
with wonder-opened eyes.
"Yes," said Mr. C., turning to the paper and
reading from the report of the Prince's reception at
Fort Erie:

"Two of the young ladies from the Buffalo
Academy, members of Mr. C.'s family of boarders,
climbed into an unoccupied carriage for a better view
of the proceedings. They were very much sur-
prised and embarrassed to learn, at the close of the
ceremonies, that they had inadvertently placed
themselves in a very conspicuous position, as the
carriage was the reception coach used for the
Prince of Wales."

Mr. C. finished the reading with his hand on the
bell which was to call the family to worship. While
it was ringing, Pan went over and took a chair by
Abby.
"Oh Abby," she said in a low tone, '"what if
we had n't confessed "
"What if we had n't," replied Abby.
"It was that red-haired man who told. I know
it was. He's a reporter on the Courier, I remem-
ber, now, seeing, him one day, at a window in the
Courier office. Any way, I think it was mean in
him to tell, he might have known by the way we
acted that we were runaways. He ought to have
had a little mercy on us."
If he had n't told, it would have been found
out some other way," said Abby. "Things always
are found out."

[NOVEMBER,

8.] TOWED BY RAIL. 7

WHEN THE WOODS TURN BROWN.

'"&- BY LUCY LARCOM.

SO will it be when the roses fade
SOut of the garden and out of the glade?
SWhen the fresh pink bloom of the sweet-brier wild,
That leans from the dell like the cheek of a child,
S Is changed for dry hips on a thorny bush ?-
.- Then, scarlet and carmine, the groves will flush.

How will it be when the autumn flowers
t Wither away from their leafless bowers;
When sun-flower and star-flower and golden-rod
Glimmer no more from the frosted sod,
And the hill-side nooks are empty and cold?-
Then the forest-tops will be gay with gold.

How will it be when the woods turn brown,
Their gold and their crimson all dropped down,
And crumbled to dust ?-
O then, as we lay
Our ear to Earth's lips, we shall hear her say,
"In the dark I am seeking new gems for my crown:"-
We will dream of green leaves, when the woods turn brown.

TOWED BY RAIL.

BY J. S. BUNNELL.

CLEAR the track! I want to tell the ST.
NICHOLAS readers of a decided novelty I came
across the other day, in that young giant of a city,
San Francisco. Turning a corner, I saw high on
the steep hill-for many of these San Francisco
streets are steep hills-two car-loads of gay people,
gliding rapidly forward without sign. or trace of
either locomotive, dummy-engine, or horse. On-
ward and upward went the little train, stopping itself
now and then, and starting again, apparently with
the greatest ease. No smoke was to be seen, no
steam hissed and puffed, no clank of machinery
was heard. No confusion of any kind. The motive
power, like some of the greatest forces in nature,
was hidden. What was it that pulled this pair of
city cars along scr easily? You shall hear.

In the middle of the track, running its entire
length, we find a continuous opening or slit, about
as wide as a man's finger, into which fits a flat iron
bar, projecting from the under side of the leading
car; while below this opening, and down under the
track, continually runs a thick wire cable or rope, in
a space about large enough fora small boy to crawl
in. The slit in the middle of the track is clearly
seen in the picture on page 9, which gives a view of
a portion of the road lying between two hills. Our
artist was standing upon one hill, looking toward
the summit of the other: the road descending to
the valley. The long cable is made to run easily
on small pulleys-say, ten feet apart-by a power-
ful steam-engine located about midwayon the route;
and this cable always is running down one track,

TOWED BY RAIL. [NOVEMBER,

and up the other, into the engine-house, over and
around ponderous iron wheels, which keep it in
motion.
Whenever a car is to be started, the driver has
simply to move a large lever, in the middle of it,
shaped like a railroad switch, and the lower end of

down town, and in three minutes and a half be
carried to the top of a high hill, many blocks away,
-a hill three hundred feet above the water, half as
high again as a tall church spire.
It is the wonder of everybody. The country
people gaze, astonished, at the mysterious-looking

"STARTING OUT."

this lever, beneath the slit in the track, grapples
the running-cable, like a vise or jaw, and away
move levers, cars, driver, passengers and all.
You can see the driver in these pictures standing
at his post. No one is allowed to speak to him, for
he must be constantly on the alert, ready for action.
Just imagine, my boys and girls, a long rope
extending down the street, trailing along behind a
team of horses, on a winter's day; and suppose you
wanted a ride on your sled, what more natural than
that you should grasp tight hold of this rope, and
take a tow, as the sailors say, gliding along with it-
at your pleasure; and when you choose to stop,
you would need but to relax your hold, and your
sled would be free immediately.
Now,by this time you should have exactly the idea
of the wire-cable railroad, for in this case the wire-
cable is the rope and the cars are the sled. Night
and day, the endless cable, coated with tar, gliding
like a long black snake, runs in and out of the
grim engine-house on the hill, upon its long jour-
ney, while cars all along the track are continually
grappling it and letting go. Think of the twelve
thousand people carried over the road daily by this
unseen giant power working beneath the ground !
We can start from a crowded street of the city,

car, and even the indifferent Chinamen are fairly
puzzled over it. They gather in groups, with open
mouths and peering eyes, trying to make out the
strange proceeding. In China they would imme-
diately suppose it to be witchcraft, as they did
recently in the case of a steam railroad which some
foreigners had built,-only twelve miles or so. All
their troubles, ills and droughts, were attributed to
it, and the people and government tore up the
track. The screaming locomotive was an evil
spirit.
But- to return to our road. The huge engine
doing all this work is driven as fast as ninety revo-
lutions a minute by the steam furnished from two
large boilers, and is rated as a two hundred and
fifty horse-power engine. That you may know
something of what that power is, let us imagine
two hundred and fifty stout horses, in teams of two,
standing in the street; we will allow ten feet for a
team, which will make our line one thousand two
hundred and fifty feet long. Get your slate and see
if it would not. That is very near one quarter of
a mile in length, and you can judge how far down
your street the line would reach. If these horses
should all start pulling at a given signal, think of
the power they would exert !

TOWED) BY RAIL.

[NOVEMBER,

TOWED BY RAIL.

Something would snap, would n't it ?
Well, you may imagine three times as many
horses, for a so-called two hundred and fifty horse-
power engine can do the work of about seven hun-
dred and fifty horses in the course of eighteen
working hours. It is a great satisfaction, when
riding in the car, to know that poor animals are not
pulling and panting and straining heart and lungs
to carry us up over the high hills. On one of the
hilly railroads of this city many horses used to die
of heart disease, so great was the strain upon the
willing animals. Now a few tons of coal, and man's
ingenuity, do all the work, and thoroughly well
they do it.
The huge wheels at the engine-house, already
alluded to, are eight feet in diameter, and there
are about thirty of them in all, rolling, rum-
bling, with a grinding din, suggesting the grim

for the strain on it of many cars with their loads
coming up the hill is immense.
All this complicated machinery is located in
a dark, gloomy-looking pit, twenty-five feet deep,
under the street, arched over beneath the pave-
ment with brick. Here is located an arrangement
for keeping the cable taut at all times. It is a car
heavily loaded with five tons of iron, and placed
upon a steep, sloping track; a horizontal wheel lies
upon this car, and around this wheel the wire cable
runs,-thus acting as a heavy pulley, taking up the
slack rope. The diagram on page o1 illustrates this.
At each end of the road there is one of these pits
with just such a steadying car in it, as well as two in
the central pit; for the engine-house is not far
from midway of the road.
The length of the entire line is over a mile and
a half, running east and west on California street,

CALIFORNIA STREET, SAN FRANCISCO.

prison-house of some mighty spirit, bound, and
faithfully serving little man. As the cable comes
running swiftly in, it twists, turns, and circles
around eight of these wheels, and before going out,
takes as many more turns about another set of
wheels. This is to prevent the cable from slipping;

called by the street boys "Nob Hill," because it has
so many elegant residences and gardens.
This is not the only beautiful street in San Fran-
cisco. In nearly all of the new parts of the city,
elegant residences abound-spacious mansions and
tasteful street cottages, all with projecting bay-

~~T~

TOWED BY RAIL. INOVEMB~~~,

windows and flowery entrances. The business
streets, too, with their fine shops and stately ware-
houses, give an air of enterprise and activity that
fully accounts for the net-work of city railroads
stretching in every direction. Even the most
wretched part of the city, the Chinese quarter,
has its railroad--one of the old style, however,
and not in the least suggestive of the airy, mys-
terious cars which we have been considering. -
Now let us hear about the cable. It is ,
one inch and a quarter in diameter, say,
the size of a baby's wrist, composed of small
steel wires, about the size of grandmother's
steel knitting-needle, all twisted into strands i.,
and these into one large rope. That
makes a very strong tow-line, does n't it? But
tough as this is, it has stretched fully sixteen feet
by the weight of the cars, and has had to be short-
ened and re-spliced by skillful men, just as sailors

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

.. .. .. -. ; -.
-- ..- -

AN ALLEY IN THE CHINESE QUARTER.
splice a rope; all the separate strands loosened
and deftly tucked away again, so that the strain
will be shared equally by all. A cable like this is

estimated t
placed by
cable. If
by a very i
tempt to

k!

:o last six months, then it must be re-
a new one. This is a very knowing
any wire strand should break, it would,
ngenious device, which I shall not at-
explain, telegraph its own disorder to

,,., ,->
i~-~ :iLC. 11 111~4

head-quarters, and there ring an
alarm-bell, which would insure its immediate repair.
Every two days the cable must be freshly coated
with tar, to prevent its being too much worn by
the grasping and biting of the iron jaws, as the
car-driver takes hold or lets go.
Wire cables are very generally used nowadays in
many ways. Elevators are run by them, vessels
are partly rigged with them; they are used for
machinery in place of belting, for tow-lines and by
tug-boats; and for many purposes they are both
cheaper and better than hemp rope.
Money was lavishly spent in laying the road-
bed. The projectors, being wealthy men, mem-
bers of the Central Pacific Railroad Company, took
pride in building something that would prove a
model road, and they succeeded. First, a trench
was dug, three feet and a half deep and the
same in width, then large pieces of railroad iron,
bent in the shape of a V were inserted in it, about
ten feet apart, upon the top of which were riveted
and bolted the rails,-the small T rail, such as is in
common use by all the steam roads. These, bear
in mind, were all riveted together, arranged, and
leveled, and supported by temporary timbers, in
exactly the places that they afterward were to
occupy. Then the whole trench was filled to the
top (excepting the space left for the cable to run
in) with concrete and cement. This, hardening,
the entire mile and a half of road became one long,
continued block of stone, over three feet in diame-
ter, lying in its earthy bed as solid as the eter-
nal hills," holding in its stony grasp the ties,
braces and rails. Such a road, they claim, can
never spread, never sag nor sink, and scarcely ever
will need repairs, save as the rails wear out, and
are replaced. So much for doing a thing thor-
oughly and well at once, though the first cost be
great-in this instance, nearly eight hundred thou-
sand dollars.
The cars are models of beauty and comfort. A
blue cadet-cap is worn by the employes, and

TOWED BY RAIL.

[NOVEMBER,

TOWED BY RAIL.

though no talking is allowed with the driver, a
smiling conductor makes up for this loss by stand-
ing ready to answer questions at the rate, I should
say from a brief observation, of about ten thousand
a day, more or less.
One feature of the sitting accommodations is that
of a low rail, about an inch high, dividing each
seat from the next, just high enough to make it
uncomfortable to sit-upon; gently hinting to those
inclined to crowd their fellows that a seat was in-
tended for one only. The cars are built so low
that the feet of passengers are but twelve inches

maiden mounts the low step and comfortably seats
herself; then, at the bell-signal from the conduc-
tor, the sturdy driver grasps his lever, clamps down
his iron brace grappling the cable, and again we
are off, with far less jar and jerk than we receive in
a horse-car. Over the hills we go, through a fine
broad street, views all about, of shining bay, busy
city, and flower-clad mountain, past beautiful
private residences kept with a neatness and care
peculiar to the front yards of the San Franciscans.
Callas bloom luxuriantly among palm-trees, and
showy flowers in the gardens regale the eye the

-CARS IN FULL MOTION. (FROM AN INSTANTANEOUS PHOTOGRAPH.)

above the street they are traveling, thus giving that
charm one experiences when sailing in a low skiff,
close to the water, but which is lost on the high
deck of a steamboat. The illustration given on
this page is made from an instantaneous photo-
graph of the so-called dummy and passenger cars,
coming down the grade at full speed. The dummy
is a light, picturesque, open car, arranged with
outside seats, and is generally preferred by passen-
gers to the close car.
As we ride along, a daintily gloved finger hails
the driver, from the sidewalk, and our car comes in-
stantly and quietly to a stand-still, while the gentle

year round; and in the summer season the traveler
fills his lungs with an air, the purest possible, com-
ing fresh and bracing from the sparkling ocean,
laden with the perfume of acres of blue and yellow
wild Lupin.
This style of railroad is becoming very popular
in San Francisco, where there are already three
such lines in successful operation; and others are
projected.
Among the oddities here in the car line, is the
"balloon car," a picture of which is given with driver
and mule attachment. These little "band-boxes
on wheels" are intended for turning quickly on

A TALE OF TWO BUCKETS.

their trucks, at the end of a route, without chang-
ing the position of the wheels, the driver keeping his
seat. A bolt is withdrawn, enabling the mules to
pull the upper part of the car entirely around, in

readiness for a return trip; the waiting passengers
jump in, and off it starts, a fat, lumbering little
thing, in jerky contrast to its elegant rivals so
delightfully towed by rail.

-= .. .---;-= -" -"------------- ----

--- -

j. .. .. ', -

-

" BALLOON-CAR."

A TALE OF TWO BUCKETS.

BY CAROLINE A. MASON.

Two buckets in an ancient well got talking once together,
And after sundry wise remarks,-no doubt about the weather,-
"Look here," quoth one, "this life we lead I don't exactly like;
Upon my word, I 'm half inclined to venture on a strike;
For-do you mind ?-however full we both come up the well,
We go down empty,-always shall, for aught that I can tell."

"That 's true," the other said; "but then-the way it looks to me-
However empty we go down, we come up full, you see."
Wise little bucket If we each would look at life that way,
Would dwarf its ills and magnify its blessings, day by day,
The world would be a happier place, since we should all decide
Only the bucketsfull to count, and let the empty slide.

[NOVEMBER,

i871. A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP. 13

A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.

BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.

This story is told by Will Gordon, a young fellow about sixteen years old, who saw for himself everything
worth seeing in the course of the events he relates, and so knows much more about them than any one who would
have to depend upon hearsay. Will is a good-looking boy, with brown hair and gray eyes, rather large for his
age, and very fond of being a leader among his young companions. Whether or not he is good at that sort of
thing, you can judge from the story he tells.

CHAPTER I.

WE MAKE A START.

I WAS sitting on the deck of a Savannah steam-
ship, which was lying at a dock in the East River,
New York. I was waiting for young Rectus, and
had already waited some time; which surprised
me, because Rectus was, as a general thing, a very
prompt fellow, who seldom kept people waiting.
But it was, probably, impossible for him to regu-
late his own movements this time, for his father
and mother were coming with him, to see him off.
I had no one there to see me off, but I did not
care for that. I was sixteen years old, and felt quite
like a man; whereas Rectus was only fourteen, and
could n't possibly feel like a man-unless his looks
very much belied his feelings. My father and
mother and sister lived in a small town, some thirty
miles from New York, and that was a very good
reason for their not coming to the city just to see
me sail away in a steam-ship. They took a good
leave of me, though, before I left home.
I shall never forget how I first became acquainted
with Rectus. About a couple of years before, he
was a new boy in the academy at Willisville. One
Saturday a lot of us went down to the river to
swim. Our favorite place was near an old
wharf, which ran out into deep water, and a fellow
could take a good dive there, when the tide was
high. There were some of the smaller boys along
that day, but they did n't dive any, and if they even
swam, it was in shallow water near the shore by
the side of the wharf. But I think most of them
spent their time wading about.
I was a good swimmer, and could dive very well.
I was learning to swim under water, but had not
done very much in that line at the time I speak of.
We were nearly ready to come out, when I took a
dive from a post on the end of the wharf, and then
turned, under water, to swim in shore. I intended
to try to keep under until I got into water shallow
enough for me to touch bottom, and walk ashore.
After half a dozen strokes I felt for the bottom and

my feet touched it. Then I raised my head, but I
did n't raise it out of the water. It struck some-
thing hard.
In an instant I knew what had happened. There
was a big mud-scow lying by the side of the wharf,
and I had got under that! It was a great flat thing,
ever so long and very wide. I knew I must get
from under it as quickly as I could. Indeed .I could
hardly hold my breath, now. I waded along with
my head bent down, but I did n't reach the side of
it. Then I turned the other way, but my hands,
which I held up, still touched nothing but the hard,
slimy bottom of the scow. I must have been wad-
ing up and down the length of the thing. I was
bewildered. I could n't think which way to turn.
I could only think of one thing. I would be
drowned in less than a minute. Scott would be
head of the class. My mother, and little Helen-
but I can't tell what my thoughts were then. They
were dreadful. But just as I was thinking of Helen
and mother, I saw through the water some white
things, not far from me. I knew by their looks
that they were a boy's legs.
I staggered toward them and in a moment my
hands went out of water, just at the side of the
scow. I stood up and my head with half my body
came up into the air.
What a breath I drew! But I felt so weak and
shaky that I had to take hold of the side of the
scow and stand there for a while before I waded
ashore. The boy who was standing by me was
Rectus. He did not have that name, then, and I
did n't know him.
It must be pretty hard to stay under water so
long," he said.
Hard!" I answered, as soon as I could get my
breath, "I should think so. Why, I came near
being drowned !"
Is that so ?" said he, I did n't know that. I
saw you go down, and have been watching for you
to come up. But I did n't expect you to come
from under the scow."
How glad I was that he had been standing there
watching for me to come up If he had not been

14 A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.

there, or if his legs had been green or the color of
water, I believe I should have drowned.
I always liked the boy after that, though of
course, there was no particular reason for it. He
was a boarder. His parents lived in New York.
Samuel Colbert was his real name, and the title of
Rectus he obtained at school by being so good.
He scarcely ever did anything wrong, which was
rather surprising to the rest of us, because he was
not sickly or anything of that kind. After a while,
we got into the way of calling him Rectus, and as
he did n't seem to mind it, the name stuck to him.
The boys generally liked him, and he got on quite
well in the school,-in every way except in his
studies. He was not a smart boy, and did not pre-
tend to be.
I went right through the academy, from the low-
est to the highest class, and when I left, the pro-
fessor, as we called our principal, said that I was
ready to go t.. :.1l c.-,.and urged me very much to
do so. But I was not in any hurry, and my parents
agreed with me that after four years of school-life,
I had better wait a while before beginning a new
course. All this disturbed the professor very much,
but he insisted on my keeping up my studies, so as
not to get rusty, and he came up to our house very
often, for the purpose of seeing what I was doing
in the study-line, and how was doing it.
I thought over things a good deal for myself, and
a few months after I left the academy I made up my
mind to travel a little. I talked about it at home,
and it was generally thought to be a good idea,
although my sister was in favor of it only in case I
took her with me. Otherwise she opposed it. But
there were a great many reasons why I could not
take her. She was only eleven.
I had some money of my own, which I thought I
would rather spend in travel than in any other way,
and as it was not a large sum, and as my father
could not afford to add anything to it, my journey
could not be very extensive. Indeed, I only con-
templated going to Florida and perhaps a few other
southern states, and then-if it could be done-
a visit to some of the West India islands, and as it
was winter-time, that would be a very good trip.
My father did not seem to be afraid to trust me to
go alone. He and the professor talked it over, and
they thought that I would take good enough care
of myself. The professor would have much pre-
ferred to see me go to college, but as I was not to
do that, he thought traveling much better for me
than staying at home, although I made no promise
about taking my books along. But it was pretty
well settled that I was to go to college in the fall,
and this consoled him a little.
The person who first suggested this traveling
plan was our old physician, Dr. Mathews. I don't

know exactly what he said about it, but I knew he
thought I had been studying too hard, and needed
to "let up" for a while. And I'm sure, too, that
he was quite positive that I would have no let
up, as long as I staid in the same town with the
professor.
Nearly a year before this time, Rectus had left
the academy. He had never reached the higher
classes,--in fact, he didn't seem to get on well at
all. He studied well enough, but he didn't take
hold of things properly, and I believe he really did
not care to go through the school. But he was
such a quiet fellow that we could not make much
out of him. His father was very rich, and we all
thought that Rectus was taken away to be brought
up as a partner in the firm. But we really knew
nothing about it; for, as I found out afterward,
Rectus spent all his time, after he left school, in
studying music.
Soon after my trip was all agreed upon and set-
tled, father had to go to New York, and there he
saw Mr. Colbert, and of course told him of my
plans. That afternoon, old Colbert came to my
father's hotel, and proposed to him that I should
take his son with me. He had always heard, he
said, that I was a sensible fellow, and fit to be
trusted, and he would be very glad to have his boy
travel with me. And he furthermore said that if I
had the care of Samuel-for of course he did n't
call his son Rectus-he would pay me a salary.
He had evidently read about young English fellows
traveling on the Continent with their tutors, and I
suppose he wanted me to be his son's tutor, or
something like it.
When father told me what Mr. Colbert had pro-
posed, I agreed instantly. I liked Rectus, and the
salary would help immensely. I wrote to New
York that very night, accepting the proposition.
When my friends in the town, and those at
the school, heard that Rectus and I were going off
together they thought it an uncommonly good
joke, and they crowded up to our house to see me
about it.
Two such good young men as you and Rectus
traveling together ought to have a beneficial influ-
ence upon whole communities," said Harry Alden;
and Scott remarked that if there should be a bad
storm at sea, he would advise us two to throw
everybody else overboard to the whales, for the
other people would be sure to be the wicked ones.
I am happy to say that I got a twist on Scott's ear
that made him howl, and then mother came in and
invited them all to come and take supper with me,
the Tuesday before I started. We invited Rectus
to come up from the city, but he did not make his
appearance. However, we got on first-rate without
him, and had a splendid time. There was never a

[NOVEMBER,

A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.

woman who knew just how to make boys have a
good time, like my mother.
I had been a long while on the steamer waiting
for Rectus. She was to sail at three o'clock, and
it was then after two. The day was clear and fine,
but so much sitting and standing about had made
me cold, so that I was very glad to see a carriage
drive up with Rectus and his father and mother.
I went down to them. I was anxious to see Rectus,
for it had been nearly a year since we had met.
He seemed about the same as he used to be, and had
certainly not grown much. He just shook hands
with me and said, "How d' ye do, Gordon." Mr.
and Mrs. Colbert seemed ever so much more
pleased to see me, and when we went on the upper
deck, the old gentleman took me into the captain's

"Where do you keep your money ?" he asked
me, and I told him that the greater part of it-all
but some pocket-money-was stowed away in an
inside pocket of my vest.
"Very good," said he, "that's better than a
pocket-book or belt; but you must pin it in. Now
here is Sammy's money-for his traveling expenses
and his other necessities; I have calculated that
that will be enough for a four months' trip, and
you wont want to stay longer than that. But if
this runs out, you can write to me. If you were
going to Europe now, I 'd get you a letter of credit,
but for your sort of traveling, you 'd better have the
money with you. I did think of giving you a draft
on Savannah, but you 'd have to draw the money
there-and you might as well have it here. You're

UNDER THE SCOW.

room, the door of which stood open. The captain
was not there, but I don't believe Mr. Colbert
would have cared if he had been. All he seemed
to want was to find a place where we could get
away from the people on deck. When he had
partly closed the door he said:
"Have you got your ticket?"
Oh yes !" I answered, "I bought that ten days
ago. I wrote for it."
That's right," said he, and here is Sammy's
ticket. I was glad to see that you had spoken
about the other berth in your state-room being
reserved for Sammy."
I thought he need n't have asked me if I had my
ticket when he knew that I had bought it. But
perhaps he thought I had lost it by this time. He
was a very particular little man.

big enough to know how to take care of it." And
with this he handed me a lot of bank-notes.
"And now, what about your salary? Would
you like to have it now, or wait until you come
back? "
This question made my heart jump, for I had
thought a great deal about how I was to draw that
salary. So, quick enough, I said that I 'd like to
have it now.
"I expected so,'" said he, "and here's the
amount for four months. I brought a receipt.
You can sign it with a lead-pencil. That will do.
Now put all this money in your inside pockets.
Some in your vest, and some in your under-coat.
Don't bundle it up too much, and be sure and pin
it in. Pin it from the inside, right through the
money, if you can. Put your clothes under your

A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.

pillow at night. Good-bye! I expect they'll be
sounding the gong, directly, for us to get ashore."
And so he hurried out. I followed him, very
much surprised. He had spoken only of money,
and had said nothing about his son,-what he
wished me to do for him, what plans of travel or
instruction he had decided upon, or anything,
indeed, about the duties for which I was to be paid.
I had expected that he would come down early to
the steamer and have a long talk about these mat-
ters. There was no time to ask him any questions,
now, for he was with his wife, trying to get her to
hurry ashore. He was dreadfully afraid that they

I'

satisfy her, for she wiped her eyes in a very comfort-
able sort of a way.
Mr. Colbert got his wife ashore as soon as he
could, and Rectus and I stood on the upper deck
and watched them get into the carriage and drive
away. Rectus did not look as happy as I thought
a fellow ought to look when starting out on such a
jolly trip as we expected this to be.
I proposed that we should go and look at our
state-room, which was number twenty-two, and so
we went below. The state-room had n't much state
about it. It was very small, with two shelves for
us to sleep on. I let Rectus choose his shelf, and

-'r. ',' f / I

i .
..' ; '
,'-Z *. ,'s ,' I 1

= ,. ;l' *
-I -"/i

49/ *3'

/

"SHE SEIZED ME BY BOTH HANDS."

would stay on board too long, and be carried to
sea.
Mrs. Colbert, however, did not leave me in any
doubt as to what she wanted me to do. She rushed
up to me, and seized me by both hands.
"Now you will take the greatest and the best
care of my boy, wont you? You 'll cherish him as
the apple of your eye? You 'll keep him out of
every kind of danger? Now do take good care of
him,-especially in storms."
I tried to assure Rectus's mother-she was a wide,
good-humored lady-that I would do as much of
all this as I could, and what I said seemed to

he took the lower one. This suited me very well,
for I'd much rather climb over a boy than have
one climb over me.
There was n't anything else in the room to di-
vide, and we were just about to come out and call
the thing settled, when I heard a shout at the door.
I turned around, and there stood Harry Alden, and
Scott, and Tom Myers and his brother George !
I tell you, I was glad to see them. In spite of
all my reasoning that it made no difference about
anybody coming to see me off, it did make a good
deal of difference. It was a lonely sort of business
starting off in that way-especially after seeing

[NOVEMBER,

;? g
?:
II

A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.

Rectus's father and mother come down to the boat
with him.
"We did n't think of this until this morning,"
cried Scott. "And then we voted it was too mean
to let you go off without anybody to see you safely
on board- "
"Oh yes !" said I.
"And so our class appointed a committee,"
Scott went on, "to come down and attend to you,
and we're the committee. It ought to have been
fellows that had gone through the school, but there
were none of them there."
"Irish! said Harry.
So we came," said Scott. "We raised all the
spare cash there was in the class, and there was
only enough to send four of us. We drew lots.
If it had n't been you, I don't believe the profes-
sor would have let us off. Any way, we missed
the noon train, and were afraid, all the way here,
that we'd be too late. Do you two fellows have to
sleep in those 'cubby-holes?'"
"Certainly," said I, "they 're big enough."
"Don't believe it," said Harry Alden, "they're
too short."
"That 's so," said Scott, who was rather tall for
his age. "Let's try 'em."
This was agreed to on the spot, and all four of
the boys took off their boots, and got into the
berths, while Rectus and I sat down on the little
bench at the side of the room and laughed at them.
Tom Myers and his brother George both climbed
into the top berth at once, and as they found it was
a pretty tight squeeze, they both tried to get out at
once, and down they came on Scott, who was just
turning out of the lower berth,--which was too
long for him, in spite of all his talk,--and then
there was a much bigger tussle, all around, than
any six boys could make with comfort, in a little
room like that.
' I hustled Tom Myers and his brother George
out into the dining-room, and the other fellows fol-
lowed.
"Is this where you eat?" asked Scott, looking
up and down at the long tables, with the swinging
shelves above them.
"No, this isn't where they eat," said Harry;
"this is where they come to look at victuals, and
get sick at the sight of them."
"Sick!" said I, "not much of it."
But the committee laughed, and did n't seem to
agree with me.
"You'll be sick ten minutes after the boat
starts," said Scott.
"We wont get into sea-sick water until we're
out of the lower bay," I said. "And this is n't a
boat, it's a ship. You fellows know lots I "
Tom Myers and his brother George were trying
VOL. VI.-2.

to find out why the tumblers and glasses were all
stuck into holes in the shelves over the tables, when
Harry Alden sung out:
"What's that swishing?"
"That what?" said I.
"There it goes again Harry cried, Splash-
ing!"
"It's the wheels exclaimed Rectus.
"That's so !" cried Scott. "The old thing's
off! Rush up! Here! The hind-stairs! Quick!"
And upstairs to the deck we all went, one on top
of another. The wheels were going around, and
the steamer was off!
Already she was quite a distance from the wharf.
I suppose the tide carried her out, as soon as the
lines were cast off, for I 'm sure the wheels had not
been in motion half a minute before we heard
them. But all that made no difference. We were
off.
I never saw four such blank faces as the commit-
tee wore, when they saw the wide space of water
between them and the wharf.
Stop her! cried Scott to me, as if I could do
anything, and then he made a dive toward a party
of men on the deck.
"They're passengers!" I cried, "We must
find the captain."
"No, no!" said Harry. "Go for the steers-
man. Tell him to steer back! We must n't be
carried off! "
Tom Myers and his brother George had already
started for the pilot-house, when Rectus shouted to
them that he'd run down to the engineer and tell
him to stop the engine. So they stopped, and
Rectus was just going below when Scott called to
him to hold up.
"You needn't be scared!" he said. (He had
been just as much scared as anybody.) "That man
over there says it will be all right. We can go
back with the pilot. People often do that. It will
be all the more fun. Don't bother the engineer.
There's nothing I 'd like better than a trip back
with a pilot! "
"That's so!" said Harry. "I never thought
of the pilot."
"But are you sure he'll take you back," asked
Rectus, while Tom Myers and his brother George
looked very pale and anxious.
"Take us? Of course he will," said Scott.
"That 's one of the things a pilot's for,-to take
back passengers,--I mean people who are only
going part way. Do you suppose the captain will
want to take us all the way to Savannah for noth-
ing?"
Rectus did n't suppose that, and neither did any
of the rest of us, but I thought we ought to look up
the captain and tell him.

A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.

But you see," said Scott, it 's just possible he boats puffing about, and the vessels at anchor, and
might put back." the ferry-boats, and a whole bay-full of sights
"Well, don't you want to go back? I asked. curious to us country boys, that we all enjoyed
"Yes, of course, but I would like a sail back in ourselves very much-except Tom Myers and his
a pilot-boat," said Scott, and Harry Alden agreed brother George. They did n't look happy.
with him. Tom Myers and his brother George
wanted to go back, right away. CHAPTER II.
We talked the matter over a good deal. I did n't GOING BACK WITH THE PILOT.
wish to appear as if I wanted to get rid of the fel-
lows who had been kind enough to come all the WE were pretty near the Narrows when I thought
way from Willisville to see me off, but I could n't it was about time to let the captain, or one of the

THE RACKET IN THE STATE-ROOM.

help thinking that it did n't look exactly fair and
"ir ilirl.' :,i not to say that these boys were not
passengers until the pilot was ready to go back. I
determined to go and see about the matter, but I
would wait a little while.
It was cool on deck, especially now that the vessel
was moving along, but we all buttoned up our coats
and walked up and down. The sun shone brightly
and the scene was so busy and lively with the tug-

officers, know that there were some people on
board who did n't intend to take the whole trip. I
had read in the newspapers that committees and
friends who went part way with distinguished peo-
ple generally left them in the lower bay.
But I was saved the trouble of looking for an
officer, for one of them, the purser, came along,
collecting tickets. I didn't give him a chance to
ask Scott or any of the other fellows for something

[NOVEMBER,

A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.

that they didn't have, but went right up to him
and told him how the matter stood.

mind to tell him that it would take up a good deal
of the crew's time if Tom Myers and his brother
George asked about everything they did n't under-
stand on board this ship, but I thought I had better
not. I have no doubt the gong sounded when we
were having our row in the state-room, and were
not likely to pay attention to it even if we did
hear it.
And why in the name of common sense," the
captain went on, "did n't you come and report, the
instant you found the vessel had started ? Did you
think we were fast to the pier all this time ?"
Then Scott thought he might as well come out
square with the truth: and he told how they made
up their minds after they found that the steamer
had really started, with them on board, not to make
any fuss about it, nor give anybody any trouble to
stop the ship, or to put back, but just to stay
quietly on board, and go back with the pilot. They
thought that would be most convenient, all around.
Go back with the pilot!" the captain cried.
"Why, you young idiot, there is no pilot I Coast-
wise steamers don't carry pilots. I am my own
pilot. There is no pilot going back "
You ought to have seen Scott's face !

THE VESSEL IS OFF,

"I must see the captain about this," he said,
and off he went.
He did n't look very friendly," said Scott, and
I had to admit that he did n't.
In a few moments the captain came walking rap-
idly up to us. He was a tall man, dressed in blue,
with side-whiskers, and an oil-cloth cap. The
purser came up behind him.
"What's all this?" said the captain. "Are
you not passengers, you boys ?" He did not look
very friendly, either, as he asked this question.
"Two of us are," I said, "but four of us were
carried off accidentally."
"Accident fiddlesticks exclaimed the cap-
tain. "Did n't you know the vessel was starting ?
Had n't you time to get off? Did n't you hear the
gong? Everybody else heard it. Are you all
deaf?"
This was a good deal to answer at once, so I just
said that I didn't remember hearing any gong.
Tom Myers and his brother George, however,
spoke up, and said that they heard a gong, they
thought, but did not know what it was for.
Why did n't you ask, then ?" said the captain,
who was getting worse in his humor. I had a good

/ '
/ ,

SCOTT AND THE CAPTAIN.

Nobody said anything. We all just stood and
looked at the captain. Tears began to come into
the eyes of Tom Myers and his brother George.

A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.

What are they to do ?" asked the purser of the
captain. Buy tickets for Savannah ? "
"We can't do that," said Scott, quickly. "We
have n't any money."
I don't know what they're to do," replied the
captain. "I 'd like to chuck 'em overboard." And
with this agreeable little speech he walked away.
The purser now took the two tickets for Rectus
and myself, and saying: "We 'll see what's to
be done with the rest of you fellows," he walked
away too.
Then we all looked at one another. We were a
pretty pale lot, and I believe that Rectus and I
who were all right, felt almost as badly as the four
other boys, who were all wrong.
We can't go to Savannah !" said Harry Alden.
"What right have they to take us to Savannah!"
Well, then, you 'd better get out and go home,"
said Scott. I don't so much mind their taking
us to Savannah, for they can't make us pay if we
have n't any money. But how are we going to get
back? That's the question. And what'll the
professor think? He '11 write home that we've run
away. And what 'll we do in Savannah without
any money?"
"You'd better have thought of some of these
things before you got us into waiting to go back
with the pilot," said Harry.
As for Tom Myers and his brother George, they
just sat down and put their arms on the railing,
and clapped their faces down on their arms. They
cried all over their coat-sleeves, but kept as quiet
as they could about it. Whenever these two
boys had to cry before any of the rest of the
school-fellows, they had learned to keep very quiet
about it.
While the rest of us were talking away, and
Scott and Harry finding fault with each other, the
captain came back. He looked in a little better
humor.
"The only thing that can be done with you
boys," he said, "is to put you on some tug or
small craft that's going back to New York. If we
meet one, I'll lie to and let you off. But it will
put me to a great deal of trouble, and we may
meet with nothing that will take you aboard. You
have acted very badly. If you had come right to
me, or to any of the officers, the moment you found
we had started, I could have easily put you on
shore. There are lots of small boats about the
piers that would have come out after, you, or I
might even have put back. But I can do nothing
now but look out for some craft bound for New
York that will take you aboard. If we don't meet
one, you '11 have to go on to Savannah."
This made us feel a little better. We were now
in the lower bay, and there would certainly be some

sort of a vessel that would stop for the boys. We
all went to the forward deck and looked out. It
was pretty cold there, and we soon began to shiver
in the wind, but still we stuck it out.
There were a good many vessels, but most of
them were big ones. We could hardly have the
impudence to ask a great three-masted ship, under
full sail, to stop and give us a lift to New York.
At any rate, we had nothing to do with the asking.
The captain would attend to that. But every time
we came near a vessel going the other way, we
looked about to see if we could see anything of an
officer with a trumpet, standing all ready to sing
out, "Sail ho!"
But, after a while, we felt so cold that we could n't
stand it any longer, and we went below. We might
have gone and stood by the smoke-stack and
warmed ourselves, but we did n't know enough
about ships to think of this.
We had n't been standing around the stove in
the dining-room more than ten minutes, before the
purser came hurrying toward us.
Come now," he said, tumble forward. The
captain 's hailed a pilot-boat."
Hurrah !" said Scott, we 're going back in a
pilot-boat, after all!" and we all ran after the
purser to the lower forward deck. Our engines
had stopped, and not far from us was a rough-
looking little schooner with a big 17 painted in
black on her mainsail. She was putting about,"
the purser said, and her sails were flapping in the
wind.
There was a great change in the countenances
of Tom Myers and his brother George. They
looked like a couple of new boys.
"Is n't this capital?" said Scott. "Everything's
turned out all right."
But all of a sudden he changed his tune.
Look here said he to me, pulling me on one
side, "wont that pilot want to be paid something?
He wont stop his vessel and take us back, for
nothing, will he?"
I could n't say anything about this, but I asked
the purser, who still stood by us:
I don't suppose he'11 make any regular charge,"
said he; "but he '11 expect you to give him some-
thing,-whatever you please."
"But we have n't anything," said Scott to me.
"We have our return tickets to Willisville, and
that's about all."
Perhaps we can't go back, after all," said Harry,
glumly, while Tom Myers and his brother George
began to drop their lower jaws again.
I did not believe that the pilot-boat people
would ask to see the boys' money before they took
them on board; but I could n't help feeling that it
would be pretty hard for them to go ashore at the

[NOVEMBER,

A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP. 21

GETTING INTO THE PILOT'S DORY.
city and give nothing for their passages but prom-
ises, and so I called Rectus on one side, and pro-
posed to lend the fellows some money. He agreed,
and I unpinned a bank-note and gave it to Scott.
He was mightily tickled to get it, and vowed he 'd
send it back to me in the first letter he wrote-
(and he did it, too).

The pilot-schooner did not come
very near us, but she lowered a boat
with two men in it, and they rowed
up to the steamer. Some of our
sailors let down a pair of stairs, and
one of the men in the boat came
up to see what was wanted. The
purser was telling him, when the cap-
tain, who was standing on the upper
deck, by the pilot-house, sung out:
Hurry up there, now, and don't
keep this vessel here any longer.
Get'em out as quick as you can,
Mr. Brown."
The boys did n't stop to have this
kind invitation repeated, and Scott
scuffled down the stairs into the boat
as fast as he could, followed closely
by Harry Alden. Tom Myers and
his brother George stopped long
enough to bid each of us good-bye,
and shake hands with us, and then
they went down the stairs. They
had to climb over the railing to the
S platform in front of the wheel-house
to get to the stairs, and as the
Steamer rolled a little, and the stairs
shook, they went down very slowly,
backward, and when they got to the
bottom were afraid to step into the
boat, which looked pretty unsteady
as it wobbled about under them.
Come there be lively shout-
S) ed the captain.
Just then, Rectus made a step for-
ward. He had been looking very
anxiously at the boys as they got
into the boat, but he had n't said
anything.
"Where are you going?" said I;
/ for, as quick as a flash, the thought
came into my mind that Rectus's
heart had failed him and that he
would like to back out.
I think I'll go back with the
boys," he said, making another step
toward the top of the stairs, down
which the man from the pilot-boat
was hurrying.
Just you try it!" said I, and I
put out my arm in front of him.
He did n't try it, and I 'm glad he did n't, for I
should have been sorry enough to have had the
boys go back and say that when they last saw Rec-
tus and I we were having a big fight on the deck
of the steamer.
The vessel now started off, and Rectus and I

A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.

went to the upper deck and stood and watched the
little boat, as it slowly approached the schooner.
We were rapidly leaving them, but we saw the
boys climb on board, and one of them-it must
have been Scott-waved his handkerchief to us. I
waved mine in return, but Rectus kept his in his
pocket. I don't think he felt in a wavy mood.
While we were standing, looking at the distant
pilot-boat, I began to consider a few matters; and
the principal thing was this: How were Rectus
and I to stand toward each other? Should we
travel like a couple of school-friends, or should I
make him understand that he was under my charge
and control, and must behave himself accordingly.
I had no idea what he thought of the matter, and
by the way he addressed me when we met, I sup-
posed that it was possible that he looked upon me
very much as he used to when we went to school
together. If he had said Mr. Gordon, it would
have been more appropriate, I thought, and would
have encouraged me, too, in taking position as his
supervisor. As far as my own feelings were con-
cerned, I think I would have preferred to' travel
about on a level with Rectus, and to have a good
time with him, as two old school-fellows might
easily have, even if one did happen to be two years
older than the other. But that would not be earn-
ing my salary. After a good deal of thought, I
came to the conclusion that I would let things go
on as they would, for a while, giving Rectus a good
deal of rope; but the moment he began to show
signs of insubordination, I would march right on
him, and quell him with an iron hand. After that,
all would be plain sailing, and we could have as
much fun as we pleased, for Rectus would know
exactly how far he could go.
There were but few passengers on deck, for it
was quite cold, and it now began to grow dark,
and we went below. Pretty soon the dinner-bell
rang, and I was glad to hear it, for I had the appe-
tite of a horse. There was a first-rate dinner, ever
so many different kinds of dishes, all up and down
the table, which had ridges running lengthwise,
under the table-cloth, to keep the plates from slid-
ing off, if a storm should come up. Before we were
done dinner the shelves above the table began to
swing a good deal,-or rather the vessel rolled and
the shelves kept their places,-so I knew we must
be pretty well out to sea, but I had not expected it
would be so rough, for the day had been fine and
clear. When we left the table, it was about as
much as we could do to keep our feet, and in less
than a quarter of an hour I began to feel dread-
fully. I stuck it out as long as I could, and then I
went to bed. The old ship rolled, and she pitched,
and she heaved, and she butted, right and left,

against the waves, and made herself just as uncom-
fortable for human beings as she could, but for all
that, Iwent to sleep after a while.
I don't know how long I slept, but when I woke.
up, there was Rectus, sitting on a little bench by
the state-room wall, with his feet braced against the-
berth. He was hard at work sucking a lemon. I
turned over and looked down at him. He did n't
look a bit sick. I hated to see him eating lemons.
"Don't you feel badly, Rectus ?" said I.
Oh no !" said he, "I 'm all right. You ought
to suck a lemon. Have one ?"
I declined his offer. The idea of eating or drink-
ing anything was intensely disagreeable to me. I
wished that Rectus would put down that.lemon.
He did throw it away after a while, but he immedi-
ately began to cut another one.
"Rectus," said I, "you'll make yourself sick.
You'd better go to bed."
It's just the thing to stop me from being sick,"'
said he, and at that minute the vessel gave her
stern a great toss over sideways, which sent Rectus
off his seat, head foremost into the wash-stand. I
was glad to see it. I would have been glad of
almost anything that stopped that lemon business.
But it did n't stop it; and he only picked himself
up, and sat down again, his lemon at his mouth.

RECTUS AND THE LEMONS.
"Rectus!" I cried, leaning out of my berth.
"Put down that lemon and go to bed !"
He put down the lemon without a word, and
went to bed. I turned over with a sense of relief.
Rectus was subordinate!

(To be conttiued.)

[NOVEMBER,

HANDSOME HANS.

I-I

- A'

-

i1,

- I
I':

- H

-A-
TAKING DOLLY OUT FOR AN AIRING.

HANDSOME HANS.

BY MRS. MINNIE VON FUNCKE.

HANS was a beauty A black Arabian horse-
the colonel's war-horse !
He had a glossy, silky coat; and with his arched
neck and magnificent form, he was indeed a pleas-
ure to behold.
When his master bought him, Hans was young
and wild, but a good military training sobered him
a little, and made him feel that the world had
something more serious for him to do than pranc-
ing and dancing all day long. Now this horse's
master was my colonel, and that is how I know all
about him, you see. Hans was very fond of sugar.
One day,-down in the yard, before mounting our
horses for our usual morning ride,-the man-
servant, letting go his bridle, Hans sprang forward
to reach the sweets I held out to him, tripping me
up, over my riding-dress. The colonel came quickly
to help me, saying: "Hans! halt Instantly
Hans obeyed, and there he stood, one leg held
over me, the head stretched out, and upper
lip raised ; and though the sugar lay on my chest
where it had fallen from my hand, he never moved

until I was on my feet again. You may be sure he
got that piece of sugar, and more too; but he
seemed to be still more pleased when his master
patted him and said in caressing tones, "My
brave Hans "
Another thing Hans liked was to assist at the
military parades and maneuvers. Ah! then he
curved his beautiful neck, and with high and dainty
step seemed to be saying to himself, "I and my
master! My master and I! "
But one day the parades were no more for
show; everything was in deadly, terrible earnest.
The bullets whizzed around him, killing many poor
horses and brave soldiers fighting for their Father-
land. Many a time my colonel has told me, with
his arms around dear old Hans's neck, he thanked
his heavenly Father that they were both spared
after the battles. That was during the war of 1866
in Germany. At last peace returned to the land.
Hans found himself with his three companions in
his old quarters in Dresden, and he was happy, I
think, to be at home again. Things changed for

HANDSOME HANS. [NOVEMBER,

him a little. During the winter of 1867-68 my
colonel married an American girl,-me, you know,
-and so, though the parades were the same, daily
rides were prolonged, and daily sugar treats were
instituted; also, Hans was pleased when the young
wife was proud of him and his master, and looked

very wise when she spoke to him. A couple of
years later he delighted in being led round and
round the house, with young Bert for a grateful
burden on his back. He even liked to have baby's
chubby fingers pulling his flowing mane. Yes!
Hans was a clever horse, as well as a beauty;

he was as docile and good as he was full of life
and fun.
One sad, sad morning, in the summer of 1870,
Bertie and his baby sister were carried from
their beds to one of the windows of their home,
that they might have a farewell look at papa. In

L.4
--= r-

.3,.

vain Bertie cried out, "Papachen! mamma! Hans!
lieber Hans! Papa mounted on his good, true
Hans, waved his sword in farewell to the child, but
rode on at the head of his regiment. Mamma
walked on, too, followed by many wives, mothers
and sisters, all of whom could say:

HANDSOME HANS.

[NOVEMBER,

rs.] CICADA. 25

"Gott segne dich Aif wiedersehen, so Gott
will!" at the railway station-for they were going
to the war-these brave soldiers.
The last view of the departing heroes that Ber-
tie's mamma had, was as the train rolled swiftly
away-that of Hans's head, stretched over the
orderly's shoulders from the half-door of a closely
packed horse car. The dear old fellow looked
interested and wise; he was a hero in his own
right, just as any man or creature is, who does
his duty,-does willingly what he is told to do
by those who are wiser than he is. The train
moved out of sight, and Bertie's mamma walked
to her home alone, and into her nursery to her
little comforters !

On the morning of the first of September, 1870,
at the great battle of Sedan, in France, between
the French and German soldiers, a cruel chassepot
ball went through the colonel's leg at the ankle,
and came out on the other side of Hans's body.
After a moment, the colonel not knowing that
Hans was wounded, rode to many of his officers
and gave directions for the coming hours of battle.
Then he rode to an ambulance, and was lifted out of

his saddle just in time,-man and horse were falling.
The colonel felt as if he had a much more painful
trouble than his wound when he saw his true, good
Hans tremblingly patient by his side. At this
moment some of the colonel's own men marched
by, and seeing consternation on their faces at the
sight of their wounded leader, he cried out, swing-
ing his cap to them,-
"Forward, boys! To-day decides; do your
best! "-in that moment he felt how hard it was
to be laid by, and not continue the work he had
begun-to leave the battle-field for the sick-room.
Pale and weak from loss of blood, he fell back
and waited until the busy surgeons could find time
to help him. Suddenly he felt a warm breath and
a gentle lick on his cheek, and Hans pressed his
head against his master's; then, his strength break-
ing completely, the colonel threw his arms round
the neck of his faithful charger, and kissing him,
cried like a little child. After a while, gathering
himself together, he cut off the much caressed fore-
lock from the head of dear Hans, and sent him
away to be shot,-put out of suffering,-for too
well he knew that neither time nor skill could save
poor, handsome Hans.

CICADA.
(A Legend of the Locust.)

BY C. P. CRANCH.

CICADA, with her little stove,
Was frying fritters neathh the trees:
The sizzling noise through all the grove
Was wafted by the summer breeze.
The tempting odors that were spread
Lured all the creatures of the wood,
Who sat amid the boughs o'erhead,
Or round her in a circle stood.
Each begged a fritter of the maid,
Who frowned, and whirled her little broom.
"Cook your own dinners. Go!" she said.
"For idlers I've no food nor room."
A hungry fairy, through the wood,
Came to Cicada's kitchen door,
Disguised'in a gray pilgrim's hood:
She seemed so weary and so poor.
"O dear Cicada, give to me
A little, little food, I pray,
And let me eat it neathh this tree.
I've wandered hungry all the day."
"No, no-be off! Cicada said,
And stormed, and knit her angry brow.

"I will not give you food or aid.
No idle beggars I allow."
"No idle tramp am I, my dear;
I spend my time in useful work,
And many a night I guard you here
While bears and wolves around you lurk.
And once I nursed your mother old
When she was very ill and weak.
So, dear Cicada, do not scold;
But grant the little boon I seek."
"Be off, I say!" the maiden screamed,
And drove her out and banged the door.
Alas alas! she little dreamed
The punishment for her in store.
The angry fairy waved her wand
And changed her to a locust there.
And ever since, through all the land,
Her race this insect's body wear.
And in the August hot and still,
Their sizzling swells upon the breeze,
And all the locusts, as they trill,
Seem frying fritters in the trees.

THE DARK DAY.

THE DARK DAY.

BY ELLA A. DRINKWATER.

OF all the wonderful stories that my great-grand-
mother used to tell my mother when she was a
little girl, the most wonderful was about the dark
day in New England, Friday, May 19, 1780. This
was during our Revolution, you will remember,
and the same year in which the traitor, Benedict
Arnold, attempted to betray his country to its ene-
mies.
For several days before the nineteenth, the air
was full of vapors, as we often see it when fires are
raging in the woods near us, and the sun and moon
appeared red, and their usual clear light did
not reach us, especially when rising and setting.
The winds blew chiefly from the south-west and
north-east, and the weather was cool and clear.
The morning of the nineteenth was cloudy and in
many places slight showers fell, sometimes accom-
panied by thunder and lightning; but as the sun
arose it did not increase the light, and the darkness
deepened and deepened, until the children stand-
ing before the tall clocks could not see to tell the
time, and older people peering over the almanac
were not able to distinguish the letters. The birds
sang their evening songs and flew to their nests in
the woods, the poultry hurried to their roosts, while
the cattle in the fields uttered strange cries and
leaped the stone fences to gain their stalls, and the
sheep all huddled together bleating piteously.
Nor were men and women and children less
afraid; and the mysterious changes in nature that
then took place have never been fully explained.
Color, which you know depends upon the light
of the sun, filled many with astonishment by its
unusual appearance, for the clouds were in some
places of a light red, yellow and brown; the leaves
on the trees and the grass in the meadows were of
the deepest green, verging on indigo, the brightest
silver seemed tarnished, and everything that is
white in the sunlight bore a deep yellow hue.
The shadows, which before noon fall to the west-
ward and after noon to the eastward, were observed
during the darkness to fall in every direction.
The rain, also, was unlike any other rain, and it
set all the people to wondering as they dipped it
from tubs and barrels; for a scum formed ori it
resembling burnt leaves, emitting a sooty smell,
and this same substance was seen on streams and
rivers, especially the Merrimac, where it lay four
or five inches thick, for many miles along its shore.
Another peculiarity was the vapor; in many
localities it descended to the earth from high in the

atmosphere; but at one point a gentleman saw the
vapors, at nine o'clock, rising from the springs and
low lands; one column he particularly noticed
rapidly ascending far above the highest hills, then
it spread into a large white cloud and sailed off to
the westward, a second cloud formed in the same
way from the same springs, but did not rise as high
as the first, and a third formed fifteen minutes
afterward. At a quarter of ten the uppermost
cloud was of a reddish hue, the second was green
indigo and blue, and the third was almost white.
So unwholesome was this vapor that small birds
were suffocated in it, and many of them were so
frightened and stupefied that they flew into the
houses, adding to the fears of ignorant people,
who considered it a bad sign for a bird to enter a
dwelling.
The commencement of the darkness was between
ten and eleven in the forenoon (when the men were
busy in the fields and offices and work-shops, the
women spinning, -weaving and preparing dinner,
and the children at school, or helping their fathers
and mothers at home), and it continued until the
middle of the following night; but the degree of
darkness varied; in some places the disk of the sun
was seen when the darkness was the most dense.
Lights were seen burning in all the houses, and
the people passing out-of-doors carried torches and
lanterns, which were curiously reflected on the
overhanging clouds.
Thousands of people were sure that the end of
the world had come, many dropped their work and
fell on their knees to pray, others confessed to their
fellows the wrongs they had done and endeavored
to make restitution.
The meeting-houses were crowded, and neigh-
borhood prayer-meetings were formed, and the
ministers and old church members prayed long
prayers, mentioning the nations and individuals of
Bible times who had been destroyed on account of
their sins, and begging that as God spared the
great city of Nineveh when it repented, so He
would forgive them, cheer them again by the light
of the sun and give victory to their armies.
Many regarded the darkness as an omen of some
disaster that was about to befall the country, nor
could they have had a more fitting emblem of
Arnold's treachery which was disclosed only four
months later.
Some persons supposed that a blazing star had
passed between the sun and the earth, and many

[NOVEMBER,

THE DARK DAY.

even believed that a huge mountain had sprung
up, they were not quite decided where, and ob-
structed the light of the sun.
It is said that the Connecticut legislature being
in session, the members became terrified when
they could not see each other's faces, and a motion
was made to adjourn, when Mr. Davenport arose
and said:
"Mr. Speaker, it is either the day of judgment
or it is not. If it is not, there is no need of
adjourning. If it is, I desire to be found doing
my duty. I move that candles be brought, and
that we proceed to business."

"they saw not one another, neither rose up any
from his place for three days."
Then all the weary children were sent to bed
after the most honest prayers that they had ever
prayed, and the older people sat up to watch
for the light that never before had appeared so
glorious.
And never dawned a fairer morning than the
twentieth of May, for the sun that opened the
flowers and mirrored itself in the dew-drops,
brought the color again to the children's faces, and
filled every heart with confidence.
The birds sang joyously, the cattle returned to

NOON OF THE DARK DAY, MAY 19, 1780.

All the shivering, frightened people began now
to look forward to evening, hoping that as the
moon rose full at nine o'clock, her light would pen-
etrate the gloom; but all the children who coaxed
to sit up and see her, grew very sleepy, their
strained eyes were not rewarded by her beautiful
beams, for at eight in the evening the darkness
was total; one could not distinguish between the
earth and the heavens, and it was impossible to see
a hand before one's face.
It was the nearest approach to the Egyptian
darkness that has been known since that day, when

their pastures, the places of business were opened,
and every one went about his work more gentle
toward man and more grateful toward God.
After the darkness was passed, several persons
traveled about to gather all possible information
concerning this memorable day, and Dr. Tenny
wrote an account of what he learned while on a
journey from the east to Pennsylvania. He says the
deepest darkness was in Essex County, Massachu-
setts, the lower part of New Hampshire, and the
eastern portion of Maine (where my great-grand-
mother lived). In Rhode Island and Connecticut it

A THANKSGIVING STORY.

was not so great; in New Jersey peculiar clouds As it was impossible to attribute the darkness to
were observed, but the darkness was not uncom- an eclipse, the wise people formed many theories
mon, and in the lower parts of Pennsylvania noth- respecting it; being convinced that it was due to
ing unusual was observed, immense fires in the woods, winds blowing in oppo-
It extended as far north as the American settle- site directions, and to the condition of the vapors;
ments and westward to Albany, but its exact limits but Herschel says: The dark day in northern
could not be ascertained. America was one of those wonderful phenomena
In Boston the darkness continued fourteen or of nature which will always be read of with interest,
fifteen hours, varying in duration at other places, but which philosophy is at a loss to explain."

-

.. .. ...' .. :- <.- o '***..

THE YOUNG HUNTER. (SEE LETTER-BOX." )

"THE MOST THOROUGHLY EDUCATED YOUNG LADY IN
MISS NEAL'S SCHOOL."
(A Tianksgiving" Story.)

BY HOPE LEDYARD.

"MAMMA, I think Edith looks as if she needed "'J'amura'-that's just it I wonder what I shall
a tonic. What do you say to have-whether it's to be quinine and iron, or cali-
But just as Edith, who was studying her French saya bark, as it is 'most every two months; or
lesson in the next room, hoped to hear what her whether father was going to say, 'What do you say
father's proposal was, some one shut the door to Edith's going-somewhere ?'-delightful But
between the rooms. Edith picked up her gram- then, if he does, mother is sure to say, 'Frederick'
mar, which she had quite forgotten, and went back (she never says Fred unless she wants something
to J'aurai-I shall have." ever so much), 'Edith is getting along so well with
to J'aurai-I shall have." ever so much),'Edith is getting along so well with

[NOVEMBER,

1878.] A THANKSGIVING STORY. 29

her lessons, they must not be interrupted.' 'J'aurai,
tu auras'-thou wilt have, and 'vous aurez '-you
will have. Yes, lots of other people will have all
sorts of good times, but there 's nothing but French
verbs and history and music-lessons for me-and
back-aches, plenty of them. Let's see, I '11 make
a new French exercise. 'J'auraimalaudos? Tu
auras'-that must be mother; 'tu auras un-oh !
unefille de talent /'-mother always likes to hear
I 'm talented. Iaura '-papa next; I know what
he 'd like to have,-my own, dear papa! laura
une grandeforte flle.' I declare this is a splen-
did way to learn French. 'Nous aurons'-we shall
have-that's everybody. Oh! I know! 'Nous
aurons un-" Thanksgiving "-diner!' Every-
body has that. Vous aurez' "
"Miss Edith, your mamma sent me down to tell
you it is time to practice," said the servant, com-
ing in.
So, Edith closed her grammar, and went to the
piano.
I do hope papa '11 come in before he goes down
town. I'll play loud and he '11 hear where I am."
Up and down the keys went the thin white
fingers-no running of scales, or careless practicing,
for Edith knew that her mother was listening, and
that she must play slowly and carefully. But she
could not keep her mind on the keys, and, to amuse
herself, had a way of talking to her hands, the
right hand being Mrs. Dexter and the left Mrs.
Sinistra. Each finger had a name, and Edith
would whisper to them, Now, Cora Dexter, you
never are wide awake Your grandmother will
notice you the next time she comes if you don't take
care. Mrs. Sinistra, you and your family are be-
hindhand! Keep up! keep up! You must go
out alone without your friends' company this
time."
Then the left hand was practiced alone. Mrs.
Lawson, listening upstairs, thought to herself,
"What ambition that child has What a pity to
interrupt her practice !" For it was as Edith had
imagined; her father had proposed that she should
have a holiday from all study, and mamma, as
usual, spoke of the lessons. But, for once, papa
stood firm. He had happened to be in the neigh-
borhood of his sister's home in the country a few
days before, and the sight of her big, healthy
children had made him realize how weak and thin
Edith looked.
I've made up my mind that Edith is to spend
Thanksgiving with my sister and her family-let
the studies go, wife ; they 're killing the child."
Mrs. Lawson said no more, but at once began to
plan what Edith should take with her; yet, as she
heard the careful practicing, she sighed over the
lost time.

"The girl is well enough," she thought; "she
only grows fast."
Edith had talked to Mrs. Dexter and Mrs. Sin-
istra for nearly ten minutes, when the parlor door
opened, and her father looked in.
"Papa!" she exclaimed, "do give me a kiss
before you go Oh, papa, I do hope it is n't quin-
ine and iron this time-calisaya bark is so much
nicer."
Mr. Lawson looked puzzled.
"You know I heard you saying I needed a
tonic."
Oh, so I did! Well, I've prescribed for
you myself this time, and it is a fortnight with your
cousins in Cherry Valley."
"Oh, papa! you are good But-will mamma
really let me miss my lessons ? I '11 practice there,
indeed I will."
"No, you wont; they haven't a piano. But
your mother's calling, dear. Go back to your
music. Does it tire you, darling ?"
No, no, papa; it's not half so bad since you
gave me this stool with a back to it."
Edith was glad she had finished her scales, for
she wanted to play something lively as a relief to
her feelings. Luckily, her last piece was a quick-
step, and, picking out a favorite part that she knew
quite well, Edith dashed through. it again and
again. "One, two, three and four. I '11-see-
pigs,-and cows," and so on, singing her plans as
she played.
Edith Lawson was an only daughter, and, indeed,
for most of the year she was as much alone as an
only child; her two brothers were at boarding-
school.
Mrs. Lawson loved her daughter, but her one
ambition was that Edith should be a finely educated
woman. She had heard of a little girl who prac-
ticed three hours a day; of another who studied
French, German and Latin; of another who took
singing-lessons from the time she was ten years
old; and (luckily) of another who attended a
calisthenic class; and so Edith had to go through
all these things. She was a bright, quick girl,
inclined to get as much amusement out of life as
was possible, or she could never have stood the
confinement; but the constant application often
strained even her good constitution, and then she
was "built up" with tonics, but never allowed a
real holiday. Even in summer she had her
practicing and drawing, with several hours of
reading.
"Edith," said Mrs. Lawson on the day before
her daughter's departure, your father wishes you
to stay a fortnight, so I will put in your Mangnall's
Questions and your Ancient Geog- "
"Now, Mary, don't put a book in that valise,"

A THANKSGIVING STORY.

said Mr. Lawson, who had just come in. Kate
was always a reader, and you may be sure the
child will get hold of a book if she wants it. Let
her play when she does play-precious
little of it she gets !"
So, to Edith's great delight, not a
book was packed, and she was free for
a whole fortnight.
On the Wednesday morning before
Thanksgiving Day the delighted girl
started with her father. She managed to
bid her mother good-bye quite sedately, I
and "as a girl of thirteen should;"
but as soon as they were out of sight
of the house she began to skip.
Meantime Mrs. Lawson stood behind
the window-blinds, her heart full of
real tenderness for the child, in spite
of misgivings; but it was a great pity
for Edith to lose so much valuable
time.
Fifth avenue was the first turning.
"Oh, papa! please don't go up !i
Fifth avenue Would you mind cross-
ing to Third?"
It's a much longer way. But why
do you like Third avenue ?"
"Don't tell? Well, it is n't stylish I
Mother says lady-like girls of thirteen
don't run; but I was in Third avenue
one day with Rosy, and I saw big girls
running and skipping. I feel ever so
happy to-day, papa! "
The good-natured father crossed to
the Third avenue, where Edith skipped
and ran and stared into shop windows
as much as she liked. It was well for
her that they had plenty of time. At
last the train was reached. It was the
first time that the father and daughter
had traveled together, for Mr. Lawson
was devoted to business, and the few summer trips
of the family usually had been taken by the mother
and her children.
Oh, papa said Edith, is n't it lovely ? Just
to think we're 'nous aurons' people now !"
"You comical child, what do you mean? I
believe you're half crazed with French and Latin."
Oh no, papa; it's not so bad, and I do like
to be shown off as the most thoroughly educated
young lady in Miss Neal's school!' But it's nice
to have no lessons, and to be with you, papa.
Would you be very much shocked if- Papa, do
you see that boy ?"
"What? who? Anybody you know?"
"No, only he's selling oranges, and-- Papa,
did you ever suck an orange?"

This last was a very confidential whisper. Papa
tried to look shocked and solemn, and said in a
stern voice : "Did you?"

EDITH'S BEAUTIFUL VIEW."
But Edith saw his eyes twinkle, and said boldly:
Oh yes But never except in a hurry. Some
people say it's very improper. But, papa, when
people are going on a frolic,-a real frolic,-they
need n't be so very proper, need they ?"
"No, I think there is a difference."
And just as they were entering the railroad station
papa bought some oranges and handed them to
his happy girl. After a little while, Edith threw an
orange-skin out of the window and looking quickly
around the car, said:
"Do you see that little baby, papa?"
That big, fat fellow across there ? yes."
"Oh, no. Not that baby; the one 'way over
there in the corner. Its mother has three little
children besides the baby, and the biggest boy is

[NOVEMBER,

A THANKSGIVING STORY.

so good to them. Papa, I think the baby 'd like an
orange."
"Well, am I to take it? "
"I-I-suppose you would n't like to. But
would you mind taking me to them ?"
Mr. Lawson was determined that every moment
of the trip should be delightful, so he kindly took
Edith to the corner of the car where the poor family
were seated. The girl stood a moment, feeling
awkward, for the children-baby, little girl and
two boys-were all staring at her.
See, here 's an orange for the baby, and another
for the little girl. Please take one for yourself,
too," she added, turning to the poor mother.
"Merci, merci said the woman.
It was a terrible shock to Edith To think that
that hateful French was even here in the cars But
in another second she was amused to hear the little
girl talk in broken French to her mother, and
realized, as she had never done before, that French
was a "mother tongue to some little children.
For the first time the young girl felt a pure, health-
ful delight in speaking French. Not any vanity,
but a hope to give pleasure to the poor woman
surrounded by strangers, prompted her to say, with
care:
Je fuis parler Franfais un feu."
The woman's face shone with delight, and she
began to talk faster than Edith had ever imagined
a tongue could form words. There was no hope
of understanding her, but soon the woman saw the
girl's dismay, and began slowly and carefully
to explain that she was very much afraid of not
getting out at the right station.
By thinking very hard, and guessing at some of
the words, Edith understood, and assured her, in
rather bad French, but with such a good will that
the woman never noticed the mistakes, that she
would ask her father to tell her just when to get
out.
Her father watched his little daughter, and was
beginning to think he would have no more of her
pleasant talk, when Edith came back, eager to
interest him in her Frenchwoman.
"Oh, papa, I shall study so hard when I get
back. I thought French was only for show off, but
now I shall never forget that I may be able to help
some poor person that can't speak English. Now,
do remember and tell her when we come to
Hokus."
"Why, we get off there."
"I thought it was Cherry Valley."
"That's the name of the farm. We'll be at
Hokus soon."
On went the train, and soon they were all stand-
ing on the platform, Edith rejoicing in the kindness
her father showed to the poor Frenchwoman and

her little ones. There was a wiry-looking, black-
eyed man who seized the baby and chattered French
to the mother, and Edith watched them walk off,
with a secret wonder if, after all, poor people who
were used to being shabby and just a little dirty
were not quite as happy as those who lived in
brown-stone houses and had to be so very particu-
lar. But she had little time for such thoughts, as
her uncle Harry, aunt Kate's husband, came driv-
ing up with his spirited horses.
"I never come till the train has passed," he
explained. So this is your Edith ? Are you still
girl enough to kiss an uncle ? "
Edith held up her lips with a smile, and soon
the carriage rolled away, bearing a very merry
party.
A beautiful Thanksgiving Day dawned upon
Edith when she awoke the next morning, thrilled
with a happy consciousness of being in the real
country, and eager to begin her two weeks of play
with her no less happy cousins. Even the bleak
November view from her window she declared to
be perfectly beautiful."
Long before noon a delightful fragrance filled the
air, and, as she ran through the breezy hall, it
seemed to her that to visit one's relations and to
catch the odor of cooking turkey, pies and plum-
pudding was one of the royal pleasures of earth.
It was a fine Thanksgiving dinner. Papa said
so; uncle said so ; aunty said so ; the children said
so; and even pussy, looking wistfully up at the
table, said so as plainly as she could mew.
But we cannot go through every moment of the
time Edith spent in the country. There was not a

GRANDFATHER'S CRADLE.
single drawback to her pleasure, excepting that her
father left her on Friday morning.
Oh, papa !" she said, "why do you go away?
Right after Thanksgiving, too Don't you like

A THANKSGIVING STORY.

to leave business a while, just as I have left my les-
sons? Papa (with a very grave face), I think you
need 'toning up.' Now, do come two whole days
before you mean to take me back to New York."
Papa half promised, and the hope helped his
daughter to let him go. There was so much to be
done, too, that there was. no time to fret. The
chickens had to be fed, the pony had to be petted,
the kitten romped with, the little terrier taught
new tricks, and, above all, all the old finery in the
garret trunks had. to be tried on by the girls. They
"dressed up," and acted impromptu plays at every
opportunity, and after the performances, ah, the joy
of rummaging in that old garret Such treasures
as were brought forth from their hiding-places !
Edith thought it the most wonderful place she ever
saw. She was never weary of opening the drawers
and "cubby-holes" of a broken old cabinet, and
she would stand for ten minutes at a time gazing
in silent awe at the cradle in i -':!i grandfather
had been rocked when he was a baby.
The day after Thanksgiving, Aunt Kate gave
them each a basket of dainty scraps that had been
left from the Thanksgiving dinner. There was
half a chicken in Edith's basket, cold potatoes, a
bowlful of cranberry sauce, pieces of pie, halves
of oranges, and a nice dish of stewed apples.
"Why, auntie," said Edith, "I watched you
laying aside everything that was left on the dishes
so carefully, and I thought it was almost mean; but
now I think it's a good way. Who told you about
it, auntie ?"
The Savior, child."
Edith flushed. That name was not often men-
tioned at her home. Her mother was a strict
church member, and the little girl listened Sunday
after Sunday to the services and sermon; but,
though she often thought of Christ, it seemed
strange to speak of him in such a natural, every-
day tone.
Perhaps Aunt Kate saw a little of what was in
her mind, but she only said:
Now trot along; you all may give your baskets
to whom you please, and as Edith does not know
our poor people, girls, you may let her choose
whom she will give it to after visiting a few of
them.".
The three girls went off, delighting in the snow
that had fallen. Edith, tall, and dressed in "grown-
up clothes," as the girls said, was a contrast to her
cousins, who were big, healthy children; yet,
though Mary was fourteen and Kitty twelve, they
were as strong as young colts, and thought nothing
of carrying the baskets; but Edith grew very tired,
and thinking they would never stop, she said:
Look, Mary, there's a house in that lot; they
don't seem very well off; let's go there."

Oh, it's no use going there," said Kitty. "A
man lives there all alone, and he fairly frightens
you, he talks so strangely. He looks cross, too."
But Edith could not carry her basket further,
and was ashamed to confess it; so, concealing her
fear, though her heart beat fast, she insisted on
knocking at the door of the little brown house.
Mary and Kitty, waiting in the road, were aston-
ishet to see a woman open the door, who smiled
with delight, and, talking faster than one could
think," as Kitty said, drew Edith into the room.
She had happened upon her French family, and, a
little embarrassed,-for how could she explain in
French ?-she opened her basket and offered them
its contents. The man, who was sitting by the
stove, looking rather glum and cross, said a few
sharp words to his wife. The woman, speaking
carefully and slowly that Edith might understand,
said her husband wished to know who had sent the
things; that they were not beggars.
Edith understood the tone, if not the words, and
saw that the man had taken offense. She thought
hurriedly :
"Who shall I say sent them ? Perhaps they do
not know Aunt Kate."
Suddenly she remembered what her aunt had
said; would it be wrong? Was it not true? Be-
sides, she could say that name in French.
Again the woman asked:
"Who sent the things ?"
Edith, with burning cheeks, but with her eyes
shining with loving eagerness, answered:
Le Sauveur."
There was silence for a moment; then the man
rose, and, with tears in his eyes, said:
Dieu vous benisse Nous l'accefterons."
Edith unpacked the basket, and, with a hurried
good-bye, ran out to her wondering cousins. Per-
haps they thought she was not so entertaining as
before, but her mind was full of questions. Was it
the Savior ? Could it be that even her French had
been taught her for this ? And with this new light
breaking on her life, the lessons and practicing did
not seem so dreary.
I have taken so much space telling you of this
that I can only add that Edith's visit was prolonged
to three or four weeks, because it evidently was of
great benefit to her. But she was not idle. She
learned to ride, to swing herself almost to the tree-
top in her cousins' swing, to build a snow fort, to
move about on skates, in the short time that she
spent at Cherry Valley farm. And then, with new
strength, she went back to her verbs and music,
her Latin and drawing, with a fresh purpose and a
higher ambition even than to be the most thor-
oughly educated young lady in Miss Neal's
school."

[NovEMBER,

A MISTAKE.

A MISTAKE.

BY M. M. D.

1~--

- -"-.'--z

LITTLE Rosy Red-cheek said unto a clover:
"Flower! why were you made?
I was made for mother,
She has n't any other;
But you were made for no one, I'm afraid."

Then the clover softly unto Red-cheek whispered:
"Pluck me, ere you go."
Red-cheek, little dreaming,
Pulled, and ran off screaming,
"Oh, naughty, naughty flower; to sting me so!"

"Foolish child the startled bee buzzed crossly,
"Foolish not to see
That I make my honey
While the day is sunny;
That the pretty little clover lives for me !"

VOL. VI.-3.

34 THE POOR RELATIONS.

THE POOR RELATIONS.
(Ant Old-Time Story.)

BY PAUL FORT.

ABOUT the middle of the Middle Ages there lived
a nobleman named Count Cormos. His castle
stood on a point of rocks, which ran out into a wide
and rapid river; and back of the castle, on lower
land, lay the village, where the vassals of this good
nobleman lived.
Among the most industrious and the poorest of
these vassals was a tailor named Peter Vargan,
who had two daughters and three sons. These
sons and daughters were all grown up, except one,
and he was the oldest of all. This one, whose
name was Ansel, never could grow up, because he
was born a dwarf. He was an active, well-made
fellow, but he was not more than half as tall as any
of his younger brothers, and either of his sisters
could pick him up and carry him under her arm.
But Ansel was no fool. Like many other little
chaps, he was the smartest of his family. All
Peter's children, except Ansel, worked in the fields
in the summer, and so helped along a little; but
the poor tailor had a hard time to feed his large
family, and he sewed away, night and day.
As for Ansel he was not big and strong enough
to work in the field, and so he used to help his
father sew. But he never had any fancy for the.
tailoring trade, and never learned to measure or to
cut out, and, in fact in time became a man, with-
out having learned any business at all.
Ansel was nearly thirty years old before good
luck came to him. The Count's chief chamberlain
stopped one day at Peter's house to have his
breeches mended, and he was so much pleased
with little Ansel's general appearance and air of
smartness, that he got him a situation in the Count's
household as castle dwarf.
This was splendid, because he had his board and
lodgings, and a small salary besides, and his father
got the job of making him his court-clothes, which
was the most profitable employment he ever had
had.
But a few months after Ansel had been installed
in his place at the castle, Peter's affairs became
worse than ever. The reason was this: One morn-
ing there arrived at his house two of his nephews,
sons of a brother whom he had not'seen for many
years, and who lived some fifty miles away. These
nephews, who were big, strapping fellows, and very
well dressed, said they were soldiers by profession,
but as there was a profound peace in their part of

the country, they were out of employment, and so
had come to visit their good uncle and try to get
something to do.
The Baron Cormos was engaged in no war, nor
were any of his noble neighbors, and so poor Peter
could see no chance of getting his nephews any
employment in their line of business. However,
he could not turn away his brother's children, and
so he kept them in his house, although they had
tremendous appetites and ate at one meal more
than poor Ansel used to eat in two or three days.
Matters were, therefore, really worse with the
poor tailor than before Ansel went to the castle.
Of course things could not go on this way very long,
and at last provisions became so very scarce at
Peter's house that his two nephews could not stand
it any longer, and they determined to leave.
But where should they go? They debated this.
question between themselves, and finally resolved
that they would go up to the castle and see Ansel.
He was in a good position and ought to be able to
do something for them.
They knew him, for he had been down to see his.
family several times during their stay, and so they
went boldly up to the castle gate, and asked admit-
tance and leave to see the castle dwarf.
"And who may ye be?" inquired the fat, red-
bearded porter.
We are his poor relations," said they.
The porter laughed at the idea of Ansel, or any
of his family, having poor relations, but he let
them in.
Ansel was glad to see them, and he gave them
seats on a high bench in an outer hall, where he
brought them each a glass of beer. The bench
was too high for him to sit upon, and so he stood
and talked to them.
They were not long in making known the object
of their visit.
But what do you want me to do ?" asked Ansel.
Get us positions here," said Ronald, the elder
of the two. In a great castle, like this, there
must surely be vacancies of some kind."
What sort of positions? What can you do ?"
said Ansel.
Fight," they answered.
But I don't think the Count wants any soldiers.
He has a captain and a dozen men-at-arms, who'
guard the castle; but even if more men were

[NOVEMBER,

THE POOR RELATIONS.

needed, I do not think that you would like to wear
the coarse uniform and mount guard at night."
"No, perhaps not," said Carl, the younger
brother; "but we might serve as extra soldiers,-
a sort of reserve guard, to be kept for emergencies.
Go you, Ansel, and tell the Count of our need, and
I'll venture to say, he '11 find us good places."
And in the meantime," said Ronald, "just get
us some more beer, my good little cousin. We're
dreadfully thirsty."
Ansel hesitated. He had asked the steward for
some of the mild beer that they made in the castle,
with which to entertain his cousins, but he did not
like to ask for any more. But while he hesitated,
Carl exclaimed :
Ha! Here comes a fair maiden with a pitcher.
What does she carry so carefully? Is she bringing
it to us ?"
Ansel turned. Oh no !" said he, that is Maid
Margaret, and she is taking a pitcher of ice-cold
mead to the Count and the Countess in their tent
on the lawn. She takes it to them at this hour
every afternoon."
Mead!" cried both the poor relations at once.
" Ice-cold mead! That is delicious! Run you,
Ansel, and ask her for some of it for us!"
"Some of the Count's mead!" cried Ansel.
"Why, she could not give you that!"
Go you and ask her," said Ronald. "I trow
there's plenty of it."
Ansel did not wish to offend his cousins, and yet
he thought their request a very strange one. So,
with a face of great perplexity, he ran over to Maid
Margaret, who had now nearly reached the bottom
of the stairs leading into the hall, and told her what
the two men on the bench had asked.
"Who did you say they were?" asked Maid
Margaret.
My poor relations," said Ansel.
They don't look very poor," said Maid Mar-
garet, glancing at them, and then casting her eyes
down.again.
The castle monkey had come down-stairs with
Maid Margaret, and he jumped on an old silver-
mounted chest, on which Ansel was standing, and
began to strike at the strangers with his paw. He
was too far away to touch them, but for some rea-
son he considered them improper people, and
seemed anxious to show them what he thought.
"Oh, they are very poor, indeed," said Ansel,
but they can't have the Count's mead, can they ?"
"I should think not," said Maid Margaret, walk-
ing on through the hall, without even turning her
head to look at the two men.
"Poor relations, indeed !" said she to herself, as
she went out. "They are lazy, impudent fellows
who are trying to impose on poor little Ansel."

When she had gone, the two brothers insisted on
Ansel's hurrying to the Count and making known
their desire.
So Ansel went out to the Count. He was very
willing to oblige his cousins, but he did not like
their way of asking for things.
When Ansel stated his errand to his master, the
latter laid back in his chair and reflected.
If they are poor relations of yours, Ansel, I
would like to do what I can for them. You
have been a good fellow since you have lived
with me."
Ansel bowed and thanked the Count.
They don't look very poor," said Maid Mar-
garet, who was standing behind the chair of the
Countess.
The Count looked up at her, somewhat surprised.
Then he said:
"Well, if they are poor, and don't look poor,
that is the more to their credit. I will engage
them and see what they can do. There may be
some fighting before long,-who knows ? Go you,
Ansel, and tell the steward to enter your poor rela-
tions on the castle rolls."
In what capacity, my lord?" asked Ansel.
As the Reserve Guard," said the Count.
And so the two brothers became members of the
castle household.
It so happened that in a very few days there
arose an occasion for their services. A store-house
belonging to the village was robbed of a quantity
of provisions, and the robbers, three in number
and well armed, were traced to a forest some miles
back from the river. These men should be pursued
and captured, and this seemed to be the very busi-
ness for the Reserve Guard.
Accordingly the poor relations were sent for by
the Count.
"Do you think," said he, "that you two men
would be able to defeat and capture three well-
armed brigands ?"
We could do it," said the brothers, with com-
parative ease."
March upon them, then," said the Count, and
the Reserve Guard marched.
The robbers were found a short distance within
the forest, busily engaged in dividing their spoil.
The two brothers immediately fell upon them, and
being powerful fellows, and masters of their wea-
pons, they vanquished the three rascals with com-
parative ease, and bound them hand and foot.
Then the Reserve Guard collected the stolen
goods, and as they were tired and hungry they
made an excellent meal off the best of the provis-
ions; and when they had eaten all they needed,
they took a nap. When they awoke the robbers
had escaped. The brothers were sorry for that,

THE POOR RELATIONS.

but still they had recovered the goods. So they "We never thought of that," said the Reserve
made a pile of them, and went back to the castle to Guard.
report their success and have a cart sent for the What you need to make you really available,"
provisions. This was done, but no provisions were said the Count, "is a captain,"
found; therobbers had returnedand carried them off. True," said the brothers, pleased at the pros-

1'-
i i '* I

-i :;1;1' :"'

"MY POOR RELATIONS," SAID ANSEL.
When the Count heard of this exploit, he asked pect of being relieved of responsibility; "we greatly
the two brothers why one of them did not keep need some one to command us. Without officers,
guard while the other slept, and why one did not the best army would be of little use."
remain to watch the goods while the other came The next time you go out you shall have a
back to the castle, captain," said the Count.

[NOVEMBER,

THE POOR RELATIONS.

The next time came sooner than any one could
have expected.
The three robbers, encouraged by their late suc-
cess, and having found that the Reserve Guard of
the castle consisted of only two men, gathered to
themselves other desperadoes until they made up a
band of about a dozen men. They then boldly
ravaged the village and the surrounding country.
They were not afraid of the Count's men-at-arms,
because they never left the castle walls, and the
brigands were careful to keep out of the reach of
their culverins and long-bows.
The Count again sent for his Reserve Guard.
"You will march on these rascally brigands," said
he, and as you have shown that you are worth
very little without proper officers, I will give you
Ansel as captain. Yes," he continued, and Maid
Margaret shall be your quartermaster, and Cracket,
the castle monkey, your scout and forlorn hope.
Prepare to march by noon."'
This was more important business than the other,
and the brothers were glad of some one to make
the necessary arrangements for them, even if it
should be no one but little Ansel.
"Be careful of one thing," said they to their
captain; there must be plenty of good things to
eat and drink. We require a great deal of the best
food when we fight."
Ansel, who knew little about such matters, ran
to Quartermaster Margaret, who was to remain at
home, but to prepare and pack the supplies.
How long will you be engaged?" said she.
I'm sure I don't know," said Ansel.
Well, wait here a minute, and I will consult
with the captain of the men-at-arms. Captain,"
said the quartermaster, when she found him on the
ramparts, how long would it take you to vanquish
a dozen brigands?"
"About twenty minutes," said.the captain.
So Maid. Margaret went down and packed up
provisions for twenty minutes.
': By the way," said she to Ansel, I wish that
you would bring me back some beech-nuts for my
pig, Feodore. I will put a couple of baskets in the
provision-sack, and you can sling them across a
horse when you return."
Ansel promised to do this, and the quartermaster
put food enough for a good meal for two and a half
men and one monkey in the bottom of the sack,
and then she stuffed in two stout baskets. This
made the sack look well filled and portly.
Each of the brothers mounted a horse. Ansel
rode behind one of them and the sack was strapped
behind the other, while Cracket rode behind Ansel.
Now then," said Ronald, as they rode away,
" you must remember, Ansel, that all the planning
and arranging of this expedition falls to your share.

We're not to be bothered with any thinking or
contriving. We re to fight, and that's all."
Soon after entering the forest, traces of the
robber-band were discovered, and Ansel had no
difficulty in following their tracks to the bank of a
small creek. Here he ordered a halt, and as there
was a very tall tree near by, he climbed to the top
of it to reconnoiter. The monkey followed him
and climbed higher than Ansel could go; but as
Cracket could not tell what he saw, there did not
seem to be much use of his climbing up at all.
Ansel could see nothing of the robbers, and was
about to descend the tree, when the monkey began
to chatter and point over the tree-top with his long
black hand. Ansel climbed up as much higher as
he dared, and looking in the direction in which
Cracket was pointing, he saw, through an opening
in the trees, a rude encampment in a little dell
which was surrounded by thick undergrowth. He
could see men walking about, and he felt sure that
the whole band was in the camp, for their habit
was to go all together on their expeditions and not
to sally out in small parties.
" Good for you, Cracket," said Ansel. I did n't
think you would be of any use to me, but you are
a first-rate spy, and if you can't talk, you have
more sense than some people who can."
When he came down from the tree, Ansel told
his men that they might eat theirsupper, although it
was rather early, and take a nap. Then they would
be fresh, and ready for work when he awoke them.
I want to think the thing out quietly," he said
to himself, "and they will only bother me."
The two brothers were willing enough to eat
their supper, and, in fact, they were already asking
each other if it. would be worth while to wait for
Ansel before attacking the fat provision-bag. The
horses were tied and the sack was opened, and then
there were two blank faces The baskets occupied
nearly the whole of the bag, and the package of
provisions seemed insignificant indeed.
"A pretty supply for two hearty men," said Carl,
"for you don't count, Ansel, although of course
we'll give you something. But here 's just enough
for one good meal for us all."
And that settles the length of this campaign,"
said Ronald. "We must be home in time for
breakfast to-morrow morning, so make your plans
accordingly, Captain Ansel."
When the meal was over, and the monkey was
busy eating the scraps that were left, the two
brothers watered their horses, cut them some grass
with their swords, and then laid down under a tree
and went to sleep. Ansel sat down under another
tree and began to think. He certainly had a des-
perately hard job on his hands. There were at
least a dozen men in that camp and he had only

THE POOR RELATIONS.

two,-stout fellows, it is true, but not able to van-
quish six armed brigands apiece.. And whatever
was done, must be done quickly. His army would
be back at the castle by breakfast-time. He could
depend upon them for that.
He thought and he thought. It would be too
bad if he failed in this, the first important under-
taking of his life. At sundown he had decided
upon his plan. He often acted as clerk for the
Count, and hanging at his side he happened to
have his ink-horn and pen, while in a pocket of his
doublet he found a piece of parchment. This he
tore in two, and on each piece wrote a note. The
first one ran thus:

" TO THE COMMANDER OF THE UPPER DIVISION:
"Be ready to cross the creek, at day-break, at a point one-quarter
of a mile north of the enemy's camp. But on no account venture to
attack the band until re-enforcements are sent to you. The brigands
greatly out-number you. A. V., General."

Ansel was not a general, but he thought on such
an occasion as this he might assume the position.
He might never have another opportunity.
The second note was like the first, except that it
was directed to the commander of the lower divis-
ion, and ordered him to cross at a point a quarter
of a mile south of the enemy's camp.
Now to deliver these notes," said Ansel to him-
self. If I could only make you understand me,
Cracket, how useful you could be! But you can
help me,-that I know."
Cracket chattered softly and rubbed his nose, as
Ansel spoke. There was no way of finding out how
much he knew, but he looked very wise.
Ansel put his notes in his pocket, and having
found to his great satisfaction that the Reserve
Guard was still sleeping soundly, he and the
monkey crossed the stream, which was quite shal-
low, and made their way toward the robbers' camp.
When they were so near that they could hear the
voices of the brigands, Ansel took the two notes in
his hand, and holding them up ran a little way.
Then he gave the notes to the monkey, who imme-
diately imitated him and began to run. Ansel
chased him, and the monkey ran right into the
robbers' camp, Ansel in hot haste after him, cry-
ing: "Stop stop!"
In an instant a half-dozen of the robbers were on
their feet, with their swords drawn. Several of
them made cuts at the monkey, who nimbly dodged
them and scampered up a tree. Out from his tent
rushed the robber chief.
What means all this ?" he hoarsely cried, "and
who, may you be?" glaring on Ansel.
Oh I'm all right," said Ansel. I 'm only
a poor messenger. But that monkey has taken my
two messages, and I must have them, or never show
my face at home again."

Are they important?" asked the chief.
Oh, very !" answered Ansel.
Cut down the tree and kill the chattering
beast !" cried the robber.
"No! no !" interrupted Ansel. "I would not
have you kill him. He is a good monkey, although
mischievous. I am light and active, and can climb
the tree. I might have caught him before, if he
had gone up a tree."
So Ansel climbed the tree, and took the notes
from the monkey without difficulty.
And now," said the chief to him, when he had
come down, "give me those messages."
Bardon me, good sir," said Ansel; but I can-
not. These messages are not addressed to you."
Look ye !" cried the robber, drawing his heavy
falchion, "if in five seconds you do not hand me
those notes, I 'll cleave that little body of yours in
twain, and read your messages then at my good
pleasure."
An' it be so," said Ansel; "there is no room
now for answer or philosophy," and he handed him
the notes.
The robber read them both, and then hurriedly
retiring within his tent, he summoned his lieutenant,
and read them to him.
Do you see ?" said the chief. We are to be
attacked to-morrow."
And shall we fortify?" asked the lieutenant.
"Fortify! Never !" exclaimed the chief. "Thus
lies the matter. The castle forces are to move on
us, from two points, at day-break. But 't is plain
that they are few in number, for they dare not
attack us until re-enforced. Now, my plan is, not
to wait for them to be strengthened, but to divide
our band into two, and let each division attack one
of the little bands across the creek, before their re-
enforcements reach them. They will be near the
place of crossing before day-break, and we can easily
fall upon them."
"A good plan !" cried the lieutenant; "and then
it will be necessary to let that little dwarf go on and
deliver his messages, else our enemy's plans and
ours shall fail."
"Yes," said the chief; "let him go on and
deliver them. He can tell the Count's men nothing
of us that they do not know, for they have dis-
covered our camp, and he will not dare inform them
that he has let those notes go out of his hands
into mine. He is no fool. I saw that plainly."
So Ansel was released and went his way with his
notes, and the monkey slid down the tree and fol-
lowed him.
Ansel went back to the place where he had left
his army,-which he found still sleeping soundly,-
and sat down under a tree to await the progress of
events.

[NOVEMBER,

THE POOR RELATIONS.

An hour or two before day-break, while the night
was still dark and black, the two robber bands
quietly sallied out and crossed the creek,-the one
above and the other below the camp. When they
reached the other side, one band slowly crept up
the creek, and the other down, carefully listening
and looking for the small parties of the Count's
people who were to wait there for re-enforcements.
When they had gone some distance, and had
found nothing, each band turned and came back,
this time a little farther from the bank of the
stream. And so they stealthily approached each
other until they were quite near together, and then
each band heard the other, and thought the enemy
was at last found. With drawn swords they rushed
together, and in an instant there was a tremendous
fight. The men of each party found the enemy
stronger than they had expected, and so they
doubled their efforts and the carnage was great.
In half an hour the robber chief and seven or eight
of his men were killed, and the survivors lay
exhausted and wounded on the ground.
Ansel had heard the noise of the combat, and as
soon as it was light he hurried over to see what had
happened. When he perceived -the result of his
plans, he ran back and roused his army.
"Heigh ho!" said Ronald, drowsily. "What
are we to do now? Not much, I reckon, for it is
nearly sunrise, and we shall want our breakfast."
You have nothing to do," said Ansel, "but to
mount and ride to the castle as fast as you can.
The campaign is over."
Good said the brothers, as they bridled the
horses. They did not ask what had occurred, nor
did they care. They probably thought that Ansel
had discovered that the robbers had gone, and that
it was of no use to follow them.
The whole party rode rapidly to the castle, and
Ansel made his reports. Carts and men were sent
to the scene of the conflict and the robbers' camp,
and the wounded brigands were taken to the village,
while a great deal of stolen property was recovered
from the camp.
The Count was delighted. He complimented
his Reserve Guard and their captain, and then he
called Ansel into his private room to inquire into
his exact plan of operations.
When he had heard what Ansel had done, and
what the two brothers had not'done, the Count was
both pleased and angry.
"Look you," said he to Ansel. Here are
three purses of gold. I have changed my inten-

tions about them, and they are yours. You have
done well, and I will give you a week's holiday to
spend with your family. Take your money and be
happy."
When Ansel had joyfully left him, the Count
sent for the soldiers of his Reserve Guard.
You are Ansel's poor relations, I believe,"
said he.
"Aye, my lord! they answered, "that we are."
I can well believe you," said he; "and poorer
and more contemptible relations man never had.
Not only do you no work yourselves and prey on
your industrious relatives, but you thank them not,
nor give them any praise or credit. But I shall
teach you a better way of living. Go !"
The next day these two lazy fellows were sent to
the castle of the Count's brother, far away among
the mountains, with directions to have them kept
at hard work for a year, that they might learn what
it was to earn the food they ate. But Ansel knew
nothing of this; it would have spoiled his pleasure.
He only knew, when his holiday was over, that his
cousins had been sent to the Count's brother, where
they could be made more useful than here. That
afternoon, as Ansel was coming down the stairs
into the outer hall, on his way to the village to
spend his holiday, he met Maid Margaret.
Oh, Ansel !" said she, one thing I would ask
you. Did you bring my beech-nuts ?"
There cried Ansel, I forgot all about them.
I was so excited, and in such a hurry. And I left
the baskets with the sack in the forest."
"It matters not," said Maid Margaret. "The
baskets were old, and I can get other beech-nuts.
But, Ansel, there is another thing. You are a little
fellow, Ansel, but you have a wise head and I like
you well. The castle is all a-buzz with your exploits.
If you like it, Ansel, I will marry you."
"That suits me very well," said Ansel; "when
I come back from my holiday, I shall be much
pleased to marry you."
"Thank you," said Maid Margaret, and she
kissed him good-bye.
When Ansel came back to the castle, he and
Maid Margaret were married, and they had quite a
fine wedding. After a time, Ansel was made the
castle steward, and he prospered and was able to
help his father very much, besides laying up money
for himself and wife.
As to the poor relations, they never ceased to
think that there were no two men in the world who
had been so badly treated as themselves.

MONKEYS AND DOGS TO THE FRONT.

MONKEYS AND DOGS TO THE FRONT.

BY M. M. D.

ONE evening last summer a wonderful thing
happened to me. I went into a building with
my eyes open, a sober
1 middle-aged woman, with
-' a great big son walking
"iy.._1 S- .beside me,-and in less
-,.; than five minutes I was
S a little bit of a girl holding
1.-ll, to my nurse's hand, and so
'i '.: i ly delighted that I laughed
S"right out loud."
S How did it happen? You shall hear, and
yet that is the very smallest part of the story.
The building was the New York Aquarium, and
we went there to look at queer fishes and beautiful
sea-anemones, and perhaps sharks, whales, por-
poises, and sea-serpents-who could tell ? but, on
entering, instead of going at once to the big glass
tanks, as usual, we saw hundreds of chairs close
together and hundreds of men, women and children
sitting on them.
Let us sit down, too," said my son.
Thinking it the fashionable thing to do, and
being, as I have said, a sober middle-aged person,
I complied at once, and-up went a curtain in

- K' '*."

*.

4-,'-.

my nurse's-I mean, my son's-hand to enable me
to keep quiet. So far as I knew I was about ten
years old. There were other children close by of
about my own age, and after the first start we all
laughed softly together. My son, however, staid
as old as before, which must have made it rather
awkward for him.
It was the funniest dinner-party that could be
imagined. Five highly respectable monkeys in
full dress sat at a table with plates and wine-
glasses, and the sprightliest, most attentive of
monkeys waited upon them, tray in hand, like a
good, highly genteel waitress, as she was.
The monkey at the head of the table was dressed
as a naval officer, with admiral's hat, epaulettes,
and side whiskers all complete. He was very ele-
gant in his manners, when not licking his plate,
and he had an injured, reproachful way of turning
on his seat and looking at the waitress when she
faied to bring what he wanted, that was wonderful
to see. At the foot of the feast sat a farmer
monkey in funny felt hat, white smock and loose
trousers. He had a tremendous.appetite and soon
finished his meal and began knocking hard upon
the table for more. The admiral, who was very

'4r

ys2:

A PARTY OF FIVE.
front of us, disclosing a large stage or platform, proud, never once noticed him, which the hungry
where sat a monkey dinner-party farmer accepted in good part, as he did n't take
Then it was that I became a little girl,-the sur- any very great interest in admirals.
prise knocked ever so many years out of my life. But the side of the table was liveliest, after all.
I shook with laughter and had to take tight hold of In the middle sat a fine monkey-lady, whom I

[NOVEMBER,

MONKEYS AND DOGS TO THE FRONT

afterward learned was called Mrs. Lorne," and
the monkey gallants on each side took turns in
conversing with her. Sometimes, indeed, they
both addressed her at once, and then the fashion-

able Mrs. Lorne would
i

utter a fearful screech and
give them a piece of her
mind, to the great ter-
ror of the farmer and
the min Iicmrn t of th.
.i.. r c -.i I. h. I :
h. -' r.: :i d ..it'- F th.-

..

7- ,- -_-".^

MADAME POMPADOUR TAKES HER AFTERNOON WALK.
hat with bright pink feather, and her coquettish togethi
way of tossing her head was quite irresistible. Wine hundred
was freely taken by all the guests, but I learned later We cl
that it was only raspberry juice and water. It was grown
funny enough to see them take up their glasses in we cou
one hand, bow to each other, toss off the contents, waitres
and then pound the table for a fresh supply. Ting
I could not see what they had to eat, but it evi- It w

.4, ,

UP AND DOWN.
dently was something good, for they smacked their
lips over it and grabbed bits from each other's
plates so often that their master frequently was
obliged to expostulate with them.

the master! I forgot to speak of him. He
eir servant just then, and stood at a respect-
ance behind the table, bottle in hand, ready
heir glasses whenever called upon, or gently
ind the guests that to lick one's plate is not
upon as good table manners. Meantime
etty waitress skipped about, bringing this
and that as the master ordered, and often
t i.t a little chair near by for rest and
I,,,--.litation. The dear thing was easily
r-:.i." and the manners of the admiral some-
S.:. :- refused her that she seemed almost ready
A. one time, when the master put a pair
kr-d cin:dles in her hands, bidding her hold
them very carefully, she
sprang up and ran from
the stage with them,
holding them both up-
Sside down, still blazing
,f and spattering. Now
and then the tempta-
-' tion to get-a bit from
the table grew so strong
that she would watch
her chance to take a
sly grab when the
guests were chattering
er. Whenever she succeeded in this the
ids of spectators would applaud heartily.
lildren thought it was rather improper for
persons to encourage theft in that way, but
Id n't help feeling sympathy for the pretty
s, notwithstanding our good morals.
a-a ling-a ling !
as so sudden that we hardly knew when it

S---

w-4

THE CLIMBER.
happened; but the curtain had fallen, and a bell
was ringing. Only for an instant. Then the
musicians, seated in front of the stage, struck up a
lively air. The curtain went up again, and out

`U~4~

MONKEYS AND DOGS TO THE FRONT.

came Madame
L -L F', i'ip:,dour,
i ri !.-! after-
....:... ilk t
.A i,.... key ?
N,. ir.:k-.d. It
S: lovely

-' -.

Sr.: d ,:,*- a lar;.: F .: r...,:.,,ll
S..r its h in J-i1- _- : ..I.:: I : .1
'. I~. Itlan .:. girl n .ir 1. ,....1 ..l. .i .
S" p-ii,.:r! lovely-I, !
l ['l-J .I j was in ,i i ..mi .l i.. ;:
S pui ile velvet r i-Li 11 tiii i., ,:L i tl'
Si,. pi k veil a,,,ill, i .. k _i-' l:-. A..
I r, re lace ciI:, r 1i I.,:- t' il
i .i ilu l. N o, ith- ,- r n.:i .: .-
:.- l.1, .: 1 ull ; they v ..i : : L- Ln tlh -,
.i i'u ii 'iich a cu-l-hl:: ., i :, i

fered Madame La
Pompadour his arm.
: 1 r face th ,t .ook. ilt .race

';,'y ~ ? rT'' ^fully with one fore0
paw, holding her par-
asol up wit1 thbe their.
You should have seen
.:~ them to 1:..o promenade -
.. H- r elegan:. -, iti _-i l. ,?.

app ,, .I ., o n.:inI,

Sf togethered Madame
V Pompadour his arm.

train waShe took it grace-
page in full livery.
GIING A FRIEND A LIFT. The page, thouoldingh he

was-only a monkey,
did remarkably well at first; but while they were there.
You should have seen

promenading in stately fashion, he suddenly dromenade
the train, and, running off the stage, came back
with a lighted lantern. In a twinkling, he had

madame's train in his grasp again, and all would
have gone well ad he not accidentall livery.

his mistress down. This was too much. Madame
GIVING A FRIEND A LIFT. The page, though he
was only a monkey,
did remarkably well at first; but while they were thus

Lpromadour, I regret to sayshion, quite suddenlyforgot herself,opped

and, with a withering howl at the awkward fellow,
scampthe train and running off the stage on all fours
with a lighted lantern. In a twinkling, he had

Then came train in his grand ladder actgain, and all would
have gone well had he not accidentally jerked
his mistress down. This was too much. Madame
La Pompadour, I regret to say, quite forgot herself,
and, with a withering howl at the awkward fellow,
scampered off the stage on all fours I
Then came the grand ladder act and barrel-
walk by three Spanish Barbarino dogs."
Ah, it was wonderful! This time there were no
dresses, but the dogs needed all their liberty of limb,
for they had hard work to do. So hard, indeed,
that we children could not have enjoyed it but for
the fact that the three tails kept wagging, wagging
all through the act. This showed that the actors
liked it, and knew perfectly well that they were

,,. i ,1:.n. .r somebody.
F.T. iIt,- .i, holding two
.": I-.l.i. ci.:.lored red and
';. l .' 1- li barbers' poles,
I'1-' i.. .:d thl in the form
'* .\ i lt,. '- A without the
Scross-line.
,a;. Up went the
"-'.i.. dogs, wag,
wag,wagging
Sin a proces-
t.. "` "'s sion; up and
down, in and
d : out, winding
among the
S P T. ." rounds, over
each other,
ure dr Ei lh their until fin-
-.II, t r-, i, at the bottom
S"! ni '.. : I::1 patiently while
... ",_ rt.J. ai brown fellow
A-; Li.h li', tail, obligingly
rn..ide a -.rnplete A of the
ladlr.tr; I;, -tretching him-
"BROUGHT UP TO self between them, just in
the right place, his fore-
paws on one and his hind-paws on the other.
Then the master made a V of the ladders, and
again the Barbarinos in lively style managed to
cover them all over inside and out, not caring
a fig for the master's shaking and twirling and
tipping of the ladders. The pictures give a fair
idea of the movements; yet I should like to see
again the solo ladder tricks, just to note the admir-
ing way in which the two resting dogs would sit by,
watching the performer, putting their heads together
and nodding their tails in approbation. But they
were most charmed when the best dog climbed a
ladder to the top and staid
there while the mait.r took 1. '
it up and hb: 1 ..1 i. ir .t .:.n ti: i
shoulder, a c ,l rh-, r, i
on his chi:.. t ,i I .1.1-
sic fairly r:* I d K-
with excite. ri r- i.
Next coi- i
"the two ..L,. 'i
spinsters," .,: !. ,
program: i0..-I
them (I fci- /-U,.
got to so, --..i '
that by t. ./
time we h-e -1
obtained
a printed L. .
program-
me which A SOLO LADDER PERFORMANCE.

[NOVEMBER,

1878.1 MONKEYS AND DOGS TO THE FRONT. 43

told us about the several
characters), iri.] i-ir,. -
sprightly E. .ii- ci '-t- .-'" ,'
they certain, .iec -, .
These ,:,.rk r ;"
ladies ..... r. .
Scotch i.ii,,: i .. '. II -
very r i,.r.ul! -
dressed:l rId "
waists .1. run- P f "
ny w.ir.: ,-k 1'

-.- _- -__ .7 : ....7 ..: ,

wiLhred,
CAN THE DOGS HOLD ON? they had
gauze veils hanging down their backs, and long
ears like Madame Pompadour's. Not once in all
their long performance did they put their fore-feet
to the ground. They danced, pirouetted and
capered in perfectly good time to th.e rniui.:
never taking their wistful eyes from the r m aii r
If for an instant they seemed to flai.
his cheery Vite-la 1" gave them fresl,
spirit, and off they danced again.
Two pretty little spinning-wheels
with comfortable seats behind
them stood in the middle of the
stage, and often the two fun-
ny ladies would stop dancing
and seat themselves at their
wheels, both spinning together.
Their little feet worked at the
treadles, the wheels flew round,
the music played, the master
praised, and, right in the midst
of it, down went the curtain again.
Next, a great long barrel was
brought in. The three Barbarinos ;'
formed in line, and, standing on.-
their hind-legs, rolled the barrel
entirely across the stage with their
fore-paws to the tune of "Johnny
comes marching home." Then
one stood upon it, while the others ', -
rolled it, shifting his feet all the
time to keep from falling off. If ---
you ever have seen a dog in a
tread-mill, you will know how he
managed to do this. Soon two
got upon the barrel, and one
rolled it; and, finally, all three moLtetiLd Lh,
barrel and staid there somehow while their
master rolled it rapidly up and down a long and
slanting board. This was decidedly the hardest
feat of all, and, when they had accomplished

it after a fashion, the three gifted fellows
leaped upon their master, and barked
with delight just like ordinary dogs.
Curtain-down and up, as before.
-*. Now appeared three very large white
poodles, each shaved on the back of the
S body so as to look like something be-
tween a puff-ball and a lion. They, too,
were not dressed (by this time it looked
S strange to us children to see so many
dogs without their clothes on !), and
their names were Tom, Dick and Harry.
The supple fellows flew through rings
and wreaths suspended before them, and
ii Ii-r, when a barrel was held in the air, they
jumped through it in so rapid succession that they
seemed to be pouring out of it like a sort of very
woolly water. The barrel was open at each end,
of course, or they could not have jumped through.
After this exploit,

Eq'- ,..

f. *-W:2-4 .'
-a-

/- orn. l;, .i;ind Harry
.c rp.. r-:.l -,i the stage
It li,! h ii -., id the
I' -n u i :pe-i u ri pe r,
L,:,:in, .: ': n i i h a
Iti,, id. -T ,; .. '.: l+ih..'k v
-,-- ,...d 1 .. t tI:. th,. .kip-
pir, -io.:p.:- h t ] rd i _,- a

- -

GISELA TAKES A STAND.
girl, for he easily cleared it twenty times without
missing, while the master and his assistant turned
it to slow and solemn music.

MONKEYS AND DOGS TO THE FRONT.

Just at this moment a fearful chatter
was heard. It was the monkeys behind
the scenes! Evidentl Il'-, l..:..i ir i.:'
dogs had done
about enough.
Their master took .
the hint, and so.
the next time the -
curtain rose, we .. -
saw a great rope .
swing hanging
down from some .
place above the
stage, and in came
Master Jocko, a
large baboon with
puffy cheeks, grim,
but ready for busi-
ness.
He was dressed in .: :.. .1.. .. I -.-i
and brown, and the I .. 1 I .i h ;i l..l .:-" il t
flying rope was surpF! .- 1. 7 n i..:...i:.:J.
turned somersaults, a,..I. .h..ll,. i, L : Ihind
hands, and all this ..Iii_ ri,. !..r:. : ,., ',
hard, high up in the al !l.:i. ... .. b i, i,
part was fine or not, ...,- i:. ,t i i .. i .
little boy near us was :. ir-' r.:. iii :,:i.:-
"Pshaw! don't mind. it isn't hard for him.
He's been brought up to it, living in the woods."
Next came the goat Gisela, a large, muscular
creature, who seemed to require very little standing-
room in this world, in spite of his size. The picture
shows you his principal accomplishment; and yet
one hardly can tell from it how very strange it was
to see this big goat very, very cautiously mount and
gather himself upon that little round bit of wood,
placed far above the floor, and really too small to
hold his four feet. Yet he turned himself completely

around several times while in that position! I was
glad when he jumped down and, making quite a
respectable bow to the spectators, ran away to get
his supper behind the scenes.
The curtain had gone up and down so often that

by this time it seemed
to me only to give a
:.! r of wink after each
.i:r. asifto say: "Now
i'! show you some-
ri, g better yet !"
ir winked now.
I I onsieurPietroBo-
1.!: Ah! if the goat
~-di:la was sure-foot-
S 1 '' Monsieur Bono
S. no less so. He
Sthe tight-rope
i--er. Attired in
Spanish fancy
''.i:s, that seemed
'' i..e suitable for a
S '-' i. lame than a mon-
/'. r, he held up his
i.. ..-or rather his
lower pair of
/ hands, for the
monkey, being
\". a four-handed
S animal, has no
feetatall,-and
.. the master rub-
"RO'PEAC R. \ bed them care-
\ fully with a bit
of chalk. Once
upon the tight-rope, Pietro Bono, scowling a moment
at the musicians, who quickened their time accord-
ingly, began to show his powers. He walked upon
it, sat upon it, danced upon it, balancing his long
pole, carrying a circlet of lighted tapers with his
teeth, or holding a cup of water in each hand,
until the audience clapped in delighted applause.
But Monsieur Bono was not delighted. He looked
grave as an owl, and that only made us laugh
the more, for it was plain that he liked his master,
-,,.i -1-i h .-. was quite willing to exert himself, but
rl, ii i-. it. -ntly had mistaken rope-dancing for a
.:i ., .'I !-Il. and dignified profession.
Next followed two dog-and-mon-
key plays. The first, called "The
Break-down of the African Post,"
L" E"" was very startling. An elegant little
--r-T carriage, with lamps at the side,
S came upon the stage bearing a pair
a of gayly dressed monkeys, with
Z,! monkey footman and driver in liv-
e cry drawn by two spirited white
dogs. Around and around they drove in fine style,
when, all of a sudden, the carriage gave a lurch, the
monkeys looked frightened half to death, the
wheels came off, and away scampered the dogs
pell-mell in true runaway style.

[NOVEMBE,

MONKEYS AND DOGS TO THE FRONT. 45

Eot cth: h.-.Irtsi wink- Wl
.J. :. r" r- "All All
rhr. It ..i planned or s
S t".ti.~,rn-lin.i :" .,nd the of fis
man
tricks
find
and
respe
Sign
at ha
a man,
fort
unded
got a
the p

THE DESERTER IS CONDEMNED TO DIE.
band had time only to stop its tune and strike up
a new one when another play began.
The Execution of the Deserter."
This I must describe briefly: A dignified
monkey enters dressed as a military officer, a
man (the master) hands him a paper in a grave,
sorrowful way. A dog in uniform is brought in.
His cocked hat and military coat are taken off.
Evidently sentenced to die,
he is placed in position, a
bandage is tied around his
eyes, the man fires a pistol
at him, and the dog falls as if
dead. They gick him up,
drag him about, and lay him
down again, but he does
not show the slightest sign
of life. Then comes black
cart with a coffin in it,
dragged by a black-covered '."
dog. The executed culprit
is put into it limp and life-
less, and the procession
moves solemnly on, when,
just as the funeral cortege is
going from the stage, the
" corpse" suddenly leaps out of the coffin and
dashes out of sight. At this wonderful piece of
acting the people applaud tremendously, the music
grows loud and warm, and the play is over.

hat did we do then? Go home ? Not so.
of the hundreds of people left the building,
battered in various directions, among the tanks
hes, but I was not satisfied. I wanted to see the
who had taught these animals such astonishing
. So a messenger started off behind the stage to
him, while I hurriedly gathered my years together,
put them on as becomingly as I could, ready to be
table and middle-aged again on the approach of
or Taddei. He came before long, quite surprised
ving been sent for,-a kind-looking, sober gentle-
who could n't speak a word of English. How
nate that I was grown up again Perhaps I could
rstand him. As he proved to speak French, we
long very well, and I always shall be grateful for
patient way in which he answered every question,
often adding some welcome bit of information.
Had Monsieur owned these animals long? Oh
yes, some of them for twelve years; he had been
training animals for fifteen years. Did he have to
whip them? "Oh no, indeed; that would do
no good; it would frighten them. Kindness was
much the best,"-and so on until we obtained
many interesting facts. I shall repeat them to you
in very much the same jerky way in which they
came, for this has been quite a long story already.
Signor Taddei had come to America a few months
before, bringing his animals with him; his daugh-
ter, who came also, assists him very much, and his
pets are as fond of her as they are of him. She
always stands behind the scenes to receive -them
when they run off the stage. They are fed and
petted after each performance. The dogs like
meat or sausage; the monkeys sometimes take
meat. but generally they eat bread, milk, and

THE CORPSE TAKES AN AIRING.
rice. They like to drink raspberry or strawberry
juice mixed with water. His monkeys tasted bana-
nas in New York for the first time in their lives,
and were delighted with them. Where did he get

FRANK R. STOCKTON. [NOVEMBEa,

his animals ? Certainly, Madame should be
told, with great pleasure. The dogs mostly were
obtained in Austria, but his monkeys he picked
up at circuses and zoological gardens-in fact at
any place where he could find the right sort. He
selects his monkeys usually by what he sees of them
at the menageries, or zoSlogical gardens. The best
ones always are active and on the alert. Were
monkeys as intelligent as dogs? Well, yes; no;
he could n't say. Sometimes monkeys are
brightest, sometimes dogs; it depends entirely
upon the individual animal. Monkeys often forget
their tricks when they come to a new place,-are
distracted by new sights and sounds; dogs don't

forget at all. A long time generally is needed
for training either, but this, too, depends upon
the animal's intelligence and the difficulty of
the trick; it may be three months, six months,
nine months, or a year. It took more than a year
to train the chief ladder-dog. Madame would n't
believe it, but another dog has been training for
the same trick for a whole year and cannot perform
it successfully yet.
Patient Signor Taddei! How he works! How
his pets work! and how, together, they amuse and
astonish us! And how they help us to understand
God's dumb creatures, and teach us again and
again that kindness is the best law.

FRANK R. STOCKTON.

BY E. N.

MOST of the girls and boys who read ST. NICHO-
LAS know Frank R. Stockton by his writings, but
they may like also to know something of his per-
sonal history.
He was born in Philadelphia, Penn., April 5th,
1834, when William IV. was King of England,
when France was governed by Louis Philippe, and
Andrew Jackson was President of the United States.
It is said that the children of the French silk-
weavers imagine the world to be made up of two
classes of people,-those who weave silk, and those
who wear it. And Frank Stockton may have
imagined that the world was divided into two
classes,-those who write books, and.those who read
them. As for himself, he meant to do both; for it
happened that his lot was cast in a family of writers.
His father, William S. Stockton, was known,
long before his son Frank was born, as a writer
upon ecclesiastical matters; and for nearly fifty
years he wrote ably and vigorously, advocating, with
others, certain reforms in the Methodist church,
which have since been adopted.
There was another son in the family, very much
older than Frank, who was an eloquent and well-
known preacher; and there was an elder daughter
of the family whose poems may be found in the
magazines of twenty years ago. And so Thomas
H. and Elizabeth Stockton, gave an impetus to the
literary aspirations of the younger children.
There were some half a dozen of these younger
ones. At the head of the roll stood Frank and
John. These two boys were inseparable com-

panions. They talked, read, played, wrote and
studied together. Whenever one entered a room,
the other came close after; and, when they grew
older, neither could tell of a boyish adventure in
which the other had not had a part. They read
the same books, and when they were not satisfied
with the way the stories ended, they used to write
out a new series of circumstances,-kill off, or marry
the heroes and heroines as they pleased, and finish
the stories to their liking.
In the evening, when the father wrote, he liked
to have all the children around him, and if they
had to be quiet, and often listen to long articles
about church government, as they were read to
their mother, yet the wood fire in the open Frank-
lin stove, the apples hung on the string to roast,
the chestnuts hidden in the ashes, the lessons to
learn, the library books, the whispered joke and
laugh, made the winter nights short in spite of
church politics and the talk of older people, and it
was far better than being sent off to a nursery.
So, out of this kind of life, with books and pict-
ures, with talk of writing and writers, with news-
papers and poetry, it was not strange that several
of the children took to ink, like ducks to water;
and that when the boys and their sister Louise
began to write for magazines and papers, it seemed
a very natural thing to do.
One of the first published articles of the boy
Frank was a prize story in the Boys' and Girls'
Journal," a Philadelphia magazine. But he was
probably a much prouder author when a long story,

FRANK R. STOCKTON.

[NOVEMBER,

FRANK R. STOCKTON.

written by him, appeared in McMakin's "American
Courier," a weekly paper of large circulation.
He was a very close student, it is said, and went
rapidly through the public schools of Philadelphia,
and graduated at the Central High School when he
was eighteen years old, belonging to a class that
has given Philadelphia some of her best-known pro-
fessional men.
Many of these graduates, with other young men
of the city, formed a literary society called The
Forensic and Literary Circle," with which Frank
and John were connected for five or six years, read-

K /
-- .---
: ~- -----4

--75 -' ---

r.-
yb ....

FRANK R. STOCKTON.
ing at the weekly meetings many of their original
productions, Frank's being generally stories, while
his brother wrote poems. The long-continued
influence of this society had much to do in eventu-
ally determining these two boys to select literature
as their profession.
After his graduation, however, when it became
necessary for Frank to select a business, he chose
drawing and engraving on wood, having a decided
talent for drawing, and a great love for it. But,
after having thoroughly learned the business, and
pursuing it successfully for some years, both in
Philadelphia and New York, he determined to

relinquish it entirely, and devote himself to litera-
ture. During all these years he had been writing
for various magazines and papers.
Meantime, his brother John (whose name is
now a tender memory) had chosen an editorial
career, and was then editor of a daily paper in
Philadelphia, the "Morning Post." And, upon
this paper, Frank Stockton began to work at litera-
ture as a business. After this he went to New
York, and was for a time connected with Hearth
and Home," for which he wrote a great many
children's stories besides working on the paper
editorially. He afterward joined the editorial
staff of SCRIBNER'S MONTHLY, where he re-
mained until ST. NICHOLAS was started in
1873. He has been connected with this
magazine as assistant editor from the begin-
ning, until quite recently, when he resigned
to devote himself entirely to writing.
The first of his publications in book form
was Ting-a-Ling," a series of fairy stories.
These were originally published in the "Riv-
erside Magazine," and at once gave their
author a position among the best American
writers in the field of fancy and delicate bur-
lesque. He also published "Roundabout
Rambles," and, subsequently, the serial,
familiar to our readers, which appeared in
the first volume of ST. NICHOLAS, "What
might have been Expected," was put into
book form. His next volume for children
was "Tales out of School."
Mr. Stockton writes not only for children,
but for grown people. As a writer for chil-
S dren he has a certain jollity and curious in-
vention running through all the delicate
fancies of his fairy stories that make them
quite unique; and his stories of ordinary life
are all characterized by humor and out-of-
the-way adventures. The same character-
istics are noticeable in his stories written for
older people. He always looks on the bright
side of life, and there is nothing morbid in
his writings.
One of the principal charms in his stories, and it
is shown especially in such papers as the "Rud-
der Grange" series, published in SCRIBNER'S
MONTHLY, is his own entirely unaffected enjoy-
ment of his characters. The reader finds Po-
mona and the eccentric boarder irresistibly funny,
and when he laughs it is with the author.
In 1877, Mr. Stockton made a winter visit to
Florida and the Bahamas, where he obtained much
of the material for his serial story, "A Jolly Fel-
lowship," begun in this number.
Mr. Stockton is married, and resides in a pleas-
ant little village, about ten miles from New York.

HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS.

HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS.

BY KATHARINE D. SMITH.

[NOVEMBER,

THE HOUSEKEEPERS AT HOME. (SEE PAGE 51.)

CHAPTER leaving our cottage vacant, and it occurred to me
as a brilliant idea that we six girls should go over
IN the month of March, 1877, there was great and keep house a fortnight alone."
excitement at No. 27, second floor, in a Seminary in Here the tidal wave of her eloquence was im-
the good old Maine State, for Belle Winship, the peded by the great enthusiasm prevailing. Cheers
presiding goddess of the pretty little chamber, had and applause greeted her.
sent out five mysteriously worded notes to as many Oh, Belle, that is a lovely idea cried Lilla
girls, requesting their presence at ten o'clock A. M. Porter; "but will your mother ever allow it, do
The wildest curiosity prevailed, very imperfectly you s'pose ?"
controlled; but, at length, the hostess with great "That's the point," answered Belle, gleefully.
dignity mounting a shoe-box, spoke in these Here 's the letter I 've just received from papa:
words: "Fellow-countrywomen: whereas, our reci- Baltimore, March 2, '77.
station hall has been burned down, thereby giving MY DEAR CHILD: We don't like to refuse you anything while we
us a vacation of two wees, therefore I want to are away enjoying ourselves, so, as the house is insured, you may go
us a vacation of two weeks, therefore I want to ^over and try your scheme.'
impart to you a plan by which we can better resign Mamma says you mustn't entirely demolish her jelly and preserves.
ourselves to this afflicting dispensation. You My only wish is that you will be careful of the fires. I have scarcely
know,"continuedshestillimpressively,thatpapa any hopes ut that you will burn the house down; however, I should
n ti iy like you to avoid it, ifpossible.-Your affectionate and imposed upo
and mamma are both away for the winter, thus PAPA.

HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS.

Is n't he a perfect darling !" cried the enrapt-
ured quintette.
I think," said demure Sadie Weld, "that
before we feel too happy, we 'd better consult our
'powers that be,' and see if we can accept Bell's
invitation."
I sha' n't hear a 'No' from one of you," said
she, energetically. "I've thought it all over.
You, Allie, and Josie Fenton are too far from home
to go there anyway, so I shall lead you off captive.
Your mother is in town, Lilla, so you can ask her
immediately, and you and Edith, Sadie, are only a
half day's journey away, and can find out easily.
I know you can get permission, for it's going to be
perfectly proper and safe. Grandma lives next
door, and Uncle Harry can protect us from the
rampaging burglars and midnight marauders that
may happen in."
So the "Jolly Six" (as they were called by
their school-mates) separated, to build many glitter-
ing castles in the air. Belle, it was decided, was to
go on to her country home, in advance, and, with
the help of a young Irish girl, prepare the house.
They had determined to have no servant, and
their many ingenious plans for managing and
dividing the work were the source of great amuse-
ment to the teachers, some of whom were in their
confidence. Josie Fenton and Belle were to do the
cooking, Jo having the sternly practical department
best suited to her-meat, vegetables, etc.-while
Belle concocted puddings, cakes, and the various
little "messes" toward which school-girl hearts are
so tender. Allie Forsaith, the oldest of the party
and the beauty of the school, with Edith Lambert,
attended to making of beds, tidying of rooms and
setting of tables, while Lilla Porter and Sadie Weld,
with noble heroism and self-sacrifice, offered to
shoulder that cross of a girl's life,-the washing
and wiping of dishes.
Wednesday morning the two maiden ladies liv-
ing opposite the Winship cottage were transfixed
with wonderbythe appearance of Belle, who wanted
the house-key left for safe keeping with them.
Du tell, Isabel,-waal, I did n't expect to see
you this mornin',-air your folks coming home?"
asked Miss Mirandy.
Oh, no," said Belle; I'm going to housekeep-
ing myself."
Good land! You haint run off and got mer-
ried, hev you?" cried Miss Jane.
"Not quite so bad as that; but I'm going to
bring five of my school-mates over to-morrow, and
we intend to stay two weeks all alone."
"Land o' mercy," moaned the nervous Miss
Mirandy. That Pa o' yourn would let you tread
on him and not notice it. Heow any sane man
could do sech a crazy-thing as to let a pack of girls
VOL. VI.-4.

tear his house to pieces, I don't see. You'll burn
us all up before a week's out; I declare I sha' n't
sleep a wink for worrying the whole time."
You need n't be afraid, Miss Sawyer," said
Belle, with spirit. If six girls, all fourteen years
old, can't take care of a few stoves, I should think
it was a pity. People don't seem to think nowa-
days that girls know anything; the world's grow-
ing wiser every day, and I don't see why we
should n't be as bright as those horrid girls of fifty
years ago."
"Well, well, don't get huffy, Isabel; you mean
well, but all girls are unstiddy at your age. Any-
how, I'll try to keep an eye on ye. Here's your
key, and we can spare you a quart of milk a day
and risins for your bread, if you 're going to make
riz bread."
Thank you; that 'll be very nice, and now I 'm
going over to begin work, for I have heaps to do.
Grandma's Betty is going to help me."
The day was very cold, and both busy little
women shivered as they unlocked one frost-bitten
door after another.
We shall freeze stiff as pokers," chattered Belle;
"but we can't help it; let's build a fire in every
stove in the house and thaw things out."
This was done, and in an hour they were mod-
erately comfortable. The weather being so cold,
Belle decided on using only three rooms, all on the
first floor; the large, handsome family sitting-room,
the kitchen, and Mrs.Winship's chamber. This be-
ing very capacious, she moved a couple of bedsteads
from other rooms, and placed the three side by
side, filled up the intervening spaces with bolsters,
and thus made one immensely wide bed.
"There, Betty, isn't that a bright idea? We
can all sleep in a row, and then there '11 be no
quarrelling about bed-fellows or rooms. I certainly
am a born contriver," said Belle, with a triumphant
little laugh.
The sitting-room coal-stove had accommodations,
on top and back, for cooking, so she thought their
suppers, with perhaps an occasional breakfast,
might be prepared there. The large bay-window,
with its bright drugget, would serve as a sort of
tiny dining-room, so the handsome extension-table,
with its carved legs, pretty red cover and silver
service, was placed in it. This accomplished, and
every room being made graceful and home-like by
the dainty touch of Belle's pretty fingers, she went
into her grandmother's, where four loaves of bread
were baking and pies being filled, in order that the
young housekeepers might commence with a full
pantry.
O, Grandma," said she, breathlessly tearing
off her cloud" and bringing down with it a sun-
shiny mass of bronze hair, it does look lovely, if

50 HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS.

I do say it; and as for setting that house on fire,
there's no danger, for it will take a week to thaw
it into that condition in which it will burn. I have
made up my mind that I wont build the fires every
morning; even if I am hostess, I don't want to
freeze myself daily for the cause of politeness. Has
the provision man come yet?"
"Yes," said Uncle Harry, "and brought eat-
ables enough for an army,-more than you girls
can devour in a month."
"You '11 see," said Belle, laughingly. You
don't know the capacity of the 'Jolly Six' yet.
Now, Betty, please take the eggs and potatoes and
fish into our store-room. I've just time to make
my cake and custard before I ride to the depot for
the girls. Do you know, Uncle Harry, I'm going
to do the most astounding thing! I've borrowed
Farmer Allen's one-seated old pung,-the one he
takes to town filled with vegetables,-and I 'm
going to-keep it for our sleigh-rides. It will hold
all six of us, and what do we care for public
opinion?" finished she with a disdainful sniff.

CHAPTER II.

Two hours later you might have seen the old
pung drawn by Kate and Jerry, with Belle and Allie
Forsaith on the seat, and four laughing, rosy-
cheeked girls warmly tucked in buffalo robes on
the bottom. Even the sober old sun, feeling under
a cloud that day, poked his head out to see the
fun, and became so interested that, in spite of him-
self, he forgot his determination not to shine, and
stayed out all the afternoon.
When the girls opened the door and saw Belle's
preparations,-the cozy sitting-room, with dining-
table in the bay-window, three sofas in a row, so
that on snowy days they might extend their lazy
lengths thereon, and finally a huge barrel of nod-
head apples in one corner,-there arose ecstatic
cheers, loud enough to shock the neighbors.
I know it's an original idea to have an apple-
barrel in your parlor corner," laughed Belle; but
the common-sense of it will be seen by every
thoughtful mind. Our forces will consume a peck
a day, and life is too short to spend in galloping up
and down cellar a dozen times a day for apples."
"Belle Winship, you're an inhospitable creature,"
said Lilla Porter. "Here I am, calmly seated on
the coal-hod with my hat on, while you are talking
so fast that you can't get time to show us our
apartments."
"Apartments!" sniffed Belle in mock dudgeon.
"You are very grand in your ideas Behold your
quarters, girls!" and she threw open the door of
the large chamber.
Belle, you will yet be Presidentess of these

United States," cried Edith Lambert. "Any girl
who can devise two such happy plans as an apple-
barrel in a parlor corner and three beds in a row,
ought to be crowned."
"Might a poor worm inquire, Belle," said Sadie,
"why those croquet mallets and balls are laid out
in file round the bed?"
"Why, those are for protection, you goose;
s'posin' anybody should come in the piazza window
at night and we had nothing to kill him with!"
"Yes, and 's'posin" he should take one of the
mallets and pound us all to a jelly to begin with ?"
That would be rather embarrassing," answered
she, with a shudder.
' "What could one poor man do against five girls
banging him with croquet mallets, while the sixth
was running to alarm the neighbors; and finally,
in conclusion, I suggest that the cooks start sup-
per," and Allie threw herself into an arm-chair, and
put up a pair of stout little boots on the fender.
The unfortunate couple referred to exchanged
looks of unmitigated disgust.
Well," said the head cook, I have my opinion
of a girl who will mention supper before she's been
in the house an hour. Belle, I foresee that they're
going to make galley slaves of us if they can.
Besides (turning again to Allie), it is n't to be sup-
per, but dinner. The meals at this house are to
be thus and so: Breakfast at 9 A. M.; lunch at
12 M.; dinner at 4 P. M.; refreshments at '7.30
P. M., and all affairs pertaining to eatables are to
be completely under control of Mesdemoiselles
Winship and Fenton. We sha' n't have you 'sug-
gesting' dinner at all hours, Miss Forsaith."
"Oh, dear!" cried Sadie Weld in comical
despair, "if we are going to be ruled over in this
way, life will be a bitter pill. I dare say we shall
be half-starved. Do give us something good to
begin on, Bluebell !"
Judging from the scene at the table an hour
later, it would not have made much difference
whether the repast was sumptuous or not, so for-
midable were the appetites, and such the merriment.
"Oh, dear," said Belle dismally, to the assistant
cook. "I will throw off all disguise and say this
family is a surprise and a disappointment to me.
When a person cooks twenty-seven potatoes with
the reasonable expectation of having half left to fry,
and sees a solitary one left in the dish, it's discour-
aging. Any way, we are through for to-night, so
the Dish Brigade can marshal their forces. We will
take our one potato into the kitchen, Jo, and see
if we can make it enough for breakfast."
At nine o'clock that evening Uncle- Harry went
through the garden, and seeing a curtain up, looked
in the back window of the sitting-room, thinking
he had never seen a prettier or happier looking

[NOVEMBER,

HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS. 51

picture. Pretty Edith Lambert curled in an arm-
chair near the astral lamp, her face resting on her
two rosy palms, and her eyes bent over Little
Women." Bluebell, her bright hair bobbed in a
funny little twist, from which two or three vent-
uresome and rebellious curls were straying out,
and her high-necked blue apron still on over her
dark dress, was humming soft little songs at the
piano. Roguish Jo was sitting flat on the hearth,
her bright cheeks flushed rosier under the warm
occupation of corn popping, and her dark hair
kinking up into
cunning tendrils
round her face;
and demure Sadie
S4 Weld with her
shy, tender face,
beside her on a
i y hassock, knitting
a fascinatorr" out
S ^ of white wool.
These two, so
thoroughly un-
..like, were never
/,, ,, to be seen apart;
'" -- indeed, they were
i, so inseparable as
/ I 'to be dubbed
I the Scissors" or
-i. ,-- Tongs" by their
friends. Allie and
Lilla were quar-
Srelingbriskly over
a game of crib-
THE BILL OF FARE. bage, Lilla's ani-
mated expression and merry, ringing laugh con-
trasting forcibly with Allie's lovely, calm face.
She never was known to be excited over anything.
It was she who carried off all the dignity and took
the part of presiding goddess over the party. The
girls all adored her for her beauty and superior age;
for she was nearly sixteen.
"Well," said Jo, breaking the silence, "let us
have refreshments, then a good, quiet talk together,
and then muster the Hair-Crimping Brigade and
go to bed. I think I have corn enough; I've
popped and popped and popped as no one ever
popped before, and till popping has ceased to be fun."
"Pop on, pop ever; the more you give us, Jo,
the more pop-ular you 'll be," laughed Belle.
"She 's a veritable pop-in-J,' is n't she ?" cried
Lilla.
Now, Lilla," said Edith, "let us get the apples
and nuts, and we '11 sit in a ring on the floor, and
eat. I sha' n't crack the almonds. The girl that
hath her teeth, I say, is no girl, if with her teeth
she cannot crack an almond. Lilla, you 're not a

bit of assistance; you 've tied up the end of the nut-
bag in a hard knot, upset the apple-dish, put the
table-cloth on crooked, and-Oh! dear; now you've
stepped in the pop-corn" (as Lilla, trying desper-
ately to cross the room without knocking some-
thing over as usual, had hit the corn-pan in her
airy flight). "You have such a genius for stepping
into half a dozen things at once, I should think
you must be web-footed."
"Well, that's possible," retorted the unfortu-
nate Lilla, I 've often been told I was a duck of a
girl, and this proves it."
"Do you realize, girls," said Edith after a while,
"that we shall all be visited by ghosts and horrible
visions to-night, if we don't terminate this repast?
I'll put away the dishes, Belle, if you 'll move the
sofas up to the fire, so that we can have our chat."
So, speedily, six warm dressing-sacks were slip-
ped on, and then, the lamp being turned out, in
the ruddy glow of the fire-light the brown, the
yellow and the dark hair was taken down, and the
girls, braiding it up for the night, talked and
dreamed and built their castles in the air as all
girls do.
Girls! said Alice softly, breaking an unusual
silence of five minutes, how thankful we ought to
be for the happy lives God gives us! We have
been put in this world and taken care of so beauti-
fully every day; yet we don't often think about it."
I think trouble, sometimes, more than happi-
ness, leads us into thinking about God's goodness,"
said Edith, though it's very strange it should. It
was Mamma's death that brought me to Him."
What a perfect heathen I am burst out Josie.
"I can't feel any of these things any more than if
I was a Chinaman. I wonder if I shall ever get
waked up "
"Look out of this window, Jo," said Belle, who was
leaning on the sill. "Don't you think that if God
can make out of all that snow and ice in three
short months, a lovely tender, green, springing
world, He can make something out of you? Is n't
it a wonderful thing that He can wake up the life
that's asleep under that frozen earth ?"
"Well," rejoined Jo dismally, "there's some-
thing to begin on out there, but I don't think I
have much of a soul, anyway. I never have seen
any signs of it. You always say things so prettily,
Belle, that I like to hear you sermonize. You'd
make a good minister's wife."
"I think you have plenty of 'soul material,'
Jo," said Lilla (confusedly struggling to make a
figure of speech express her meaning). "There's
lots of it there, only it wants to be-blown up,
somehow."
"Thanks for your encouragement," said Jo,
amid the laughter that followed Lilla's peculiar

HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS.

metaphor. "I guess you'll have to handle the
spiritual bellows, and then you 'll find it's harder
work than you imagine. Now don't laugh, girls,
because I really do feel solemn about it, only I talk
in my usual dreadful way."
"You always make yourself appear wicked, Jo,"
said her loving champion, Sadie; "but I happen to
know a few 'facks' in your case. Girls, last month

0i1' ^

ever happened to me except going to California
and talking to Dickens once. That 's the sum
total of my adventures."
Tell us something about California, then. Oh,
you do have such a good time, and funny things
are always happening to you," sighed Lilla. "You
never seem to have any trials."
"Trials !" rejoined Belle, sarcastically. "I should

BELLE ASKS MISS SAWYER FOR THE KEY.
she gave every cent of her allowance to Mrs. Hart think I had n't! Perhaps I have n't a little brother
(that poor washer-woman who scorched her white and an awfully fussy old aunty Perhaps I never
overskirt), and stayed away from the levee to take had three-fourths of my alveolar processes come up
care of that horrid room-mate of hers who had a through my jaw to be pulled out! Don't you call
headache." those 'afflictions'?"
"Sadie, if you don't desist," cried Jo, with a Yes, I do," answered Lilla, joining the general
flaming face and brandishing a hair-brush fiercely, laugh; and I'll never allude to your good fortune
"I will throw this at your dear, charitable, little again. Now tell us a California story,-that's a
head. Now, Belle, you know we all agreed to tell dear,-for I 'm getting sleepy."
a story or adventure each night before going to Well," said Belle, casting her eyes round the
bed, and I think you, as hostess, ought to begin." room until they rested on the' what-not, I'11 tell
"Dear me, I-can't!" cried Belle. "Nothing you the story of these;" (taking up a string of

[NOVEMBER,

HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS.

dusky-looking pearls which had the appearance of
having been burned) "and I shall make it just as
'bookish' and romantic as possible."
Last summer, Mamma and I were boarding in
a beautiful valley a hundred miles from San Fran-
cisco. It was near the mining districts, where Papa
was attending to some business. Of course, a great
many Mexicans and Indians, as well as Chinamen,
worked in these mines, and we used to see them
very often. Mamma and I were sitting under the
peach-trees in the garden one afternoon; the fruit
was ripe and hanging 'in bushels' on the trees, as
beautiful to look at as it was luscious to eat; some
of the peaches were a rich yellow inside and others
snow-white, except where the crimson stone had
tinged its socket with rosy little spots.
"We were sewing and eating when the gate
opened, and an Indian girl with an old squaw came
in and approached us. The girl could speak Eng-
lish, and told me her name was Eskaluna. I knew
then she was the beauty and belle of the tribe, and
was going to marry the chief's son when the next
moon came, for I had heard of her from our Indian
cook, who was as gossipy as a Yankee. She was
the most beautiful creature I ever saw: lovely black
hair,-not so coarse as is usual with them,-brill-
iant dark eyes and good features, the prettiest
slim hands and graceful arms, too. Then she was
dressed gayly and handsomely in the fashion of her
tribe, and on her lovely, bare, brown neck was this
long string of Mexican pearls, which we noticed at
once as being very valuable. She stayed there all
the afternoon eating peaches, and really grew quite
confidential. Mamma, meanwhile, had gone into
ecstasies over her beautiful pearls, and had taken
them from her neck to examine them. At sunset,
when she went home to her wigwam, she slipped
the necklace into Mamma's lap, saying, with her
sweet trick of speech, 'I eat your peachie, you
takie my beads.' Of course Mamma could n't
accept them, and Eskaluna departed in quite a dis-
appointed mood. I remember being sorry that the
pretty young thing was going to marry the dis-
agreeable, ugly chief. He was just as jealous and
ferocious as he could be,-would n't let her talk to
one of the warriors of the tribe, and had shot one
man already because he fancied she liked him.
"In two days our Indian cook came home at
night from the mines, saying he wanted a holiday
the next morning to go to a funeral. You know in
some tribes they burn the bodies of the dead.
Well, we asked him the particulars, of course, and
were terribly shocked when we heard that it was
the funeral of Eskaluna. Nakawa told us the
whole story in his broken English, and a sad
enough one it was. Her lover, as I have said,
was always jealous of her, and on the afternoon she

came to our house, he had heard from some crafty
villain or other (an enemy of Eskaluna's) that she
was false, and instead of intending to marry him,
she loved a handsome young Indian of another
tribe and would run away with him.
This fired his hot blood, and he rushed off on
the village road determined to kill her. He climbed
up a large sycamore-tree on a lonely part of the
r6ad, and there waited until the shadows fell over
the mountain-sides, and the sun, dropping behind
their peaks, left'the San Jacinto valley in fast grow-
ing darkness. At last he saw the gleam of her
scarlet dress in the distance, and soon he heard her
voice as she came singing along, little thinking of
her dreadful fate. He took sure aim at the heart
that was beating happily and carelessly under her
cape of birds' feathers, shot, and so swift and unerr-
ing his arrow that she fell in an instant,-dead
upon the path. Then, leaving her with the help-
less old squaw, he escaped into a caion near by.
"The next day we went over to the Indian
encampment, and reached the place just after poor
Eskaluna had been burned on the funeral pile.
We went close to the spot, and could hardly help
crying when we thought of her beauty and sweet-

ness, and her tragic death. Up near the head of
the pile where that lovely brown neck of hers had
rested,-the prettiest neck in the world,-laid this
charred string of pearls she had worn in our garden.
Mamma asked for it as a remembrance, and the
old squaw gave it to her. Eskaluna's brother is
on the war-path after her murderer, I guess, to this
day, if he has n't killed him yet; for he was deter-
mined to avenge her. Now is n't that romantic,
and terrible at the same time, girls ? Poor Eska-
luna I don't know that her fate would have been
much easier if she had married him; but it's hard
to think of her being so heartlessly murdered when
she was so innocent and true; and that's the end
of my story. Now, come to bed, girls; it's ten
o'clock."
In a half hour all six were asleep, and the bright-
faced moon, looking in at the piazza window, smiled
as she saw the half-dozen heads in a row, and the
bed surrounded by croquet mallets and balls.

CHAPTER III.

THE next day rose clear, bright and sparkling,
but bitterly cold.
I cannot attempt to tell you all the doings of
that indefatigable and ingenious bevy of girls dur-
ing the day. Miss Mirandy, their opposite neigh-
bor, had kept at her post of observation, the
window, very closely, and had seen much to
awaken scorn and surprise.
Waal, Jane said she excitedly in the after-

HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS.

noon, "there they go ag'in! That's the fourth
time their hoss has been harnessed into Alien's
pung to-day; and now they've got their uncle.
Whatever they find to laugh so over, and where
they go to, is more'n I can see. They hev n't
done up their dinner dishes, I know, for I've been
watching of 'em and they haint had time to do 'em
so vast quick as this, though Belle Winship is as
spry as a skeeter when she gets goingg"
Miss Mirandy's eyes were better than magnifying
glasses, for, aided by a lively imagination, they
could dart around corners and through doors with
great ease. Belle avowed confidentially to Sadie
that morning, when she met her eyes fixed on the
pantry window, that she ble'eved Miss Mirandy
could see a fly-speck on top of a liberty pole.
The girls had made a very lively day of it, and
in the evening, their spirits being still high, they
gave an impromptu concert; with Uncle Harry,
two or three of Mrs. C.'s boarders, the young
school-master and Hugh Pennell (home from col-
lege on vacation), for an audience; a small, but
appreciative one.
Belle had a keen sense of the ridiculous and a
voice like a meadow lark. Jo was capital, too, as
a mimic, so together they gave some absurdly
funny scenes from operas and the like. Belle had
thrown on an evening dress of her cousin's, left in
the house, which, with its short sleeves, showing
her round, girlish arms, and its long train, made
her such a distracting little prima donna of fifteen,
that Hugh Pennell quite laid his boyish heart at
her feet. She sang The Last Rose of Summer"
with all the smiles, head tossing, arch looks, cast-
ing down of eyelids and kissing of finger-tips at
close, which generally accompany it when sung by
the stage soprano, and was greeted with rapturous
applause. Then Jo, as the tenor, in dressing-gown
and smoking-cap for male attire, sung a fervent
duet with Allie Forsaith, rendering it with original
Italian words, and embraces at the end of each
measure. After bidding their visitors good-night
at ten o'clock, and keeping the cooks company in
the kitchen while they set muffins to "raise" for
breakfast, the girls went to their room.
"I never had such a good time in my life,"
sighed Lilla, as she blew out the lamp and tucked
herself in on the front side. "I only have two
things to trouble me. First: my tooth feels as if
it were going to ache again. Second: it's my
turn to build the fire in the morning."
Console yourself with one thought, my dear,"
said Belle, sleepily, yet sagely, "both those misfort-
unes can't happen to you, for if your tooth aches,
we sha' n't make you build the fire."
Lilla's fears had foundation, however, for in
the middle of the night, Jo, who slept next the

front side, waked up to find her slipping out of
bed.
What's the matter, Lilla? whispered she.
"Nothing; don't wake the rest, but that aching
tooth of mine has given me the neuralgia. Where
is the 'stuff' I bathe my face in, do you know? "
Yes, just where you put it this morning, in the
wash-stand closet; sha'n't I light the lamp and help
you ?"
"No, no," said Lilla. "I can put my hand
right on it. Here it is I'll bathe my face a
few minutes and then try to get to sleep."
So she anointed herself freely, put the bottle and
sponge under the head of the bed lest she should
need them again, and, finally, the pain growing
less, fell asleep.
In the morning, Belle, who waked first, rubbed
her eyes drowsily, looked over to Lilla, who was
breathing quietly, and uttered a loud shriek. This
in turn aroused the other girls, who, looking where
she pointed, followed her example. One side of
Lilla's face was swollen, and of a dark, purple color,
presenting a frightful appearance. At length,
hearing the confusion, Lilla awoke with a start, and
her eyes being open and rolled about in surprise,
looked still more alarming.
"What's the matter, girls?" said she, sitting
up in bed. Thereupon Edith and Allie began to
cry, and nobody answered her.
"Keep calm," said Belle, tremblingly.
"Lilla, dear, your face is badly swollen and dis-
colored, and we 're afraid you'll be very sick, but
we'11 send for the doctor right away; does it pain
you much ?"
She jumped up hastily, and, looking in the mir-
ror, uttered a cry of terror, and sank back into the
rocking-chair.
"Oh dear! oh dear! What can it be! Oh
take me home to papa, Belle It must be a-a
malignant fustule-or spotted fever-or something
dreadful! What shall I do ? Belle, you're a doctor's
daughter; do find out what's the matter with me!"
"Girls," cried Belle, with a face like a ghost,
"we can't be too quick about this. If you, Jo, will
build a kitchen fire, and Allie do the same in here,
then, after we 've made her comfortable, Edith can
run and tell Uncle Harry to come."
She had a pain in her face last night," gasped
Jo; "that must have had something to do with it.
She put some of her medicine on and then dropped
off into sleep. Come, darling, let us tuck you in
bed again; try to keep up your courage!"
Then there was a hasty consultation in the
kitchen, 'midst many groans and tears. Belle was
authority on sickness, and she said, with an awe-
struck face, that it mustbe a dreadful case of ery-
sipelas in the very last stages.

[NOVEMBER,

HALF A DOZEN HOUSEKEEPERS.

"But," cried Allie, perplexed, "it's a very
strange case, for why does she have so little pain,
and how could her face have turned so black from
mortification in one night ? "
"Heaven knows," said Belle, devoutly, and in
abject terror, wringing her hands. What to do
with her I don't know. Whether to put hot bricks
to her head and ice to her feet, 'or keep her head
cold and soak her feet-whether to give her a
sweat or keep her dry, or' wrap her in blankets, or
get the linen sheets. Jo is with her now. If you 'll
go and wake Uncle Harry, Edith, it's the best thing
we can do. Please go with her, too, Sadie, and you
wont be afraid together."
Allie and Belle rushed back to Lilla, who looked
even worse, now that the room was bright with the
glow of the open fire and the pale light of the
student-lamp.
You patient old darling!" cried Belle, plunging
down on her knees beside the bed. They've
sent for the doctor, and now you 'll be all right.
Good gracious! what bottle have I tipped over
under this bed ? "
"It's my lotion for neuralgia," moaned Lilla
faintly. "I bathed my face in it last night, and
put it under there afterward."
"Your neuralgia lotion !! shrieked Belle, with
first a look of blank astonishment, and then one of
insane excitement and glee mixed in equal parts.
" Look at it, girls, and don't let me die laughing.
Look, Allie and Jo Oh, Lilla, you precious,
precious goose!" and thereupon she dragged out
from beneath the bed-curtain a pint bottle of-
violet ink, and then relapsed into a paroxysm of
merriment. Just then the back-door opened, and
in hurried Uncle Harry and the girls, much terri-
fied, for they had heard the shouts and gasps and
excited voices from outside, and supposed, at least,
that Lilla had fallen into convulsions.
"Let me see the poor child immediately," cried
Mr. Winship. "What's the trouble with you,
Belle, are you crazy ? and where is Lilla ?" (looking
at the apparently empty bed, for Lilla had wound

herself in the bed-clothes, disappeared from view,
and was endeavoring to force a whole sheet into her
mouth in order to render laughter inaudible). 'Are
you trying to play a joke on me ?" continued he,
with as much dignity as was consistent, in an attire
made up of an under-flannel, a pair of trousers,wrong
side out, rubbers, a tall hat and gold-headed cane
which he had caught up in his hasty flight from his
chamber.
The fact is,"answered Belle, between convulsive
gasps and trying desperately hard to regain her
sobriety,-" the fact is-Uncle Harry-we made-
a mistake, and so did-Lilla. There were two
bottles just alike in the closet, and in the night she
bathed her face for ten minutes in the purple ink !
Oh, oh, oh "
Uncle Harry's face relaxed into a broad grin as
he saw the joke.
Oh, Mr. Winship, you should have seen her!"
sighed Jo, lifting her head from the sofa-pillow with
streaming eyes. "All her face, except part of her
forehead and one cheek, was covered with enormous
dark purple blotches. She looked like a calathum-
pian, or a leper, or anything else frightful "
Well," said Edith, slyly, "Belle said mortifica-
tion had taken place. I don't think Lilla has ever
been more mortified than she is now; do you?"
"Puns are out of place, Edith," said Belle severely.
"Don't hurry, Uncle Harry. Don't let any thought
of your rather peculiar attire cause you embarrass-
ment."
But before Belle's teasing voice had ceased, the
last thud, thud of his rubbers, and click, click of
his gold-headed cane were heard in the hall, and he
thought, as he tried to finish his night's sleep, that
he would be cautious before he allowed these mad-
cap girls to rout him out of bed again at three
o'clock in the morning.
As for the girls themselves, they did not make a
trial of slumber, but scrubbed Lilla energetically
first, and then made molasses candy, determined
that the roaring kitchen fire should be used to some
purpose.

(To be continued)

7WJbjc~l*~

55

THE THREE WISE MEN.

THE THREE WISE MEN.

[See "Three Wise Women," ST. NICHOLAS, for April, 1878, p. 432.]

T-.. I. ,r i- .i: H.

i LE :c -il L' :l : r ti.. ,, .- t ic ,.
r I. I .'

Tr.. lhind t ,i II th c.

T !,. !, .r,1 i.1 I ,. r t .- .r I L r c ,
T : ,:.1 i h !dl' a I .:. i' .. -. rr, .-i i 'i n..

L', .t .i h. :,I i.r : r. ,r :.F '. 1i L.:--Ir,
,' I".' l ,:l Ii\ -. h1 ,:: ,_i :. .. : ri, t i' l' J .: r.

--A

[NOVEMBER,

THE THREE WISE MEN. 57

One used his club for a parachute;
One from the stock of his gun did shoot;
The third, in the ulster, fainted away,
And there he 'd have lain to this very day, 'A' .-
If the three old women had not appeared,
And found them all more hurt than skeered.

One fanned the ulster into life, -.-L .
For which he gladly made her his wife;
One caught the club man on her ladder,-
'T was hard to tell which felt the madder,-.
And the third, before he had time to ask it,
Carri d thic _-portnlnmi off in her hba:et.

W .- .-. y'

% .' A 1

-.-_;..

:-./

THE LOOK-OUT TREE.

f3 Ak.., 7

THE LOOK-OUT TREE.

BY FRED. BEVERLY.

) .- -i HE trees and plants of the
'half-tropical forests of
|lI the Southern states are
I\ very interesting to one
'" ..- accustomed to ourNorth-
S ern woods. The elms,
oaks and maples of the
SJ' North give place to other
Species of the same fam-
i- ly, and many entirely
new kinds meet his eye.
-.-. There are in the South,
for example, true oaks
which retain .an ever-
Sgreen foliage, and are
'. '; therefore called live-
S oaks. Such a tree is
-- shown in the picture on
next page, and forms a
portion of a scene perfectly characteristic of Florida.
The live-oak is, or has been, one of the most
valuable of our forest trees-so valuable that the
Government has protected and preserved large
tracts or reservations of it in Florida, where no
person is allowed to cut any timber. It is used
altogether in ship-building, and the knees, or ribs,
of vessels made from it will last a hundred years or
more. There are yet shown on Cumberland island,
near the coast of Georgia, the stumps of trees from
which were shaped the timbers of the frigate Con-
stitution "-so celebrated in our history.
The live-oak is fast decreasing in numbers, and
men are yet employed in cutting its valuable tim-
ber, which is shipped to the various navy-yards
and stored up for future use.
I once visited a camp of "live-oakers on Mos-

quito Lagoon, on the east coast of Florida. Three
hundred men were employed, and they lived in
little villages of palmetto huts, each group having
its captain, teamster and cook. They all were
Northern men, most of them from the lumber
camps of Maine,-men born in the woods, and well
accustomed to fatigue. At first, the oaks were cut
upon the banks of the lagoon, but these were soon
exhausted, and mile after mile the men had fol-
lowed, building roads of logs across the marshes,
and rude bridges over the creeks and swamps,
until they had finally reached the margin of oak
growth seven miles away. There was no other
village near, and this settlement, with its many
huts, huge barns (for all hay and provender for
the cattle had to be brought from the North),
stores, warehouses and wharfs, would be aban-
doned as soon as the supply of timber was
exhausted.
Every morning a gang of men went into the
woods; a certain number cut down the huge oak,
others hew the logs square, cut out the "knees"
or bent limbs which are the most valuable, and
marked on .every piece its contents in cubic feet.
The timber was then taken by the teamsters, who
hung them under the axles of their huge wheels,
eight feet in diameter, and drew them to the river.
Their teams contained six, eight, and sometimes
ten yoke of cattle; and they were often nearly a
day in accomplishing the distance to the lagoon.
The native cattle were used, as, though hardly
half the size of Northern oxen, they could undergo
more fatigue, could travel quicker and more surely
among the stumps and roots, and could live on less
food. After the timber had been taken to the
banks of the lagoon it was loaded upon huge, boat-

[NOVEMBER,

THE LOOK-OUT TREE.

like rafts, called "lighters," and floated twenty
miles away to the Inlet, where vessels were lying in
wait for it. Every part of the process of securing
this timber was attended with great hardship and
even danger.
You cannot help noticing the drapery of the tree
in the picture,-the long festoons of Spanish moss
or tillaudsia, which is not a moss at all, but an
air-plant. It garlands every tree, nearly, and
grows in every swamp in Florida, in little sprays

ure. There, half hidden in the dense shroud of
moss, was a boy ten years old, singing:

"Oh! Santa Fe is a very good lake,
'T is a very good place for me;
For it has a bank that never will break,
And that everybody can see."

As I stepped out upon the sandy shore, he
shrank back, much ashamed of having been over-
heard. Nevertheless, he invited me to his plat-

. LOOK-OUT TREE

"THE LOOK-OUT TREE."

of gracefully curling tendrils, or in huge masses of
interlaced and matted moss. Large quantities of
it are gathered and buried in some pond, or
steamed, until the outer cuticle comes off, leaving
a woody fiber which is useful to us in various ways,
chiefly as a stuffing for mattresses.
One hot day in August I was walking along the
shores of a beautiful lake in Florida, the banks of
which were lined with a luxuriant growth of trees
and vines, made almost impenetrable by the hang-
ing moss, when suddenly I heard sounds issuing
from a tree near the thicket in which I was. I
could see no one anywhere, and it was some time
before I traced the sounds to the tree in our pict-

form, and I climbed up upon the cross-pieces which
you see nailed upon the trunk of the tree.
He was a very pleasant little fellow, with blue
eyes and yellow hair, the son of a planter who
owned a great portion of the land about the lake.
From our position we could look across the lake,
into the pine woods two miles away, and up its
shore for several miles. Tall cypresses grew thickly
along the lake shore, draped, like our own tree,
with long pendants of moss; behind us was the
plantation, a narrow lane leading up the hill to the
houses and out-buildings, surrounded with orange
and lemon trees.
And now, my little friend," said I, sitting down

THE MAGICIAN'S LESSON.

by his side, "how came you to have such a delight-
ful play-house up in this tree? "
This was n't built for a play-house; but Papa
made it ever so many years ago for Mamma to
watch from when he went across the lake. Do you
see that green bank across the lake? That is an
orange grove that Papa set out when sister was
born (she is two years older than I), and when he
would go over there with the men to work, Mamma
would get so lonesome, that he built her this place
for a look-out. We call it 'the look-out tree;'
and when I was small, Mamma would bring me
here on hot afternoons, and sit here till almost
dark. One time she had waited for Papa till sun-
set, and he did not come, though she saw the boat
leave the shore, and she thought she would go
down. But just as she took me in her arms, and
got up, she saw a wild cat coming right along the
fence, toward the water. She did n't make a noise,
but got right down behind the moss and waited.
The wild cat jumped off the fence near the foot of
the tree, began smelling of the foot-prints in the

sand, and then scratching at the foot of the tree.
He seemed ready to climb right up when some-
thing made him look out toward the lake, and
there was the boat, coming as fast as our boys
could pull it. That frightened him and he ran
away. After that, Mamma did n't go there so much,
and would not let me go, unless nurse or Papa was
with me, till I was quite old."
"And what was the bank of which you were
singing ?"
Oh that is our orange bank across the lake.
Nothing but frost can hurt that."
Then he told me of the portion his father had
set aside for him. That each tree, being old as
himself, now bore over two hundred oranges; and
that he had received more than a hundred dollars
from his orange bank last year.
Then I related to him the story of the Swiss
family Robinson, of their house in the tree, which
his "look-out" recalled; and we chatted till the
sun drew near the tops of the trees, and we walked
up to the gate together, and said good-by.

THE MAGICIAN'S LESSON.

(A dialogue in three scenes. From a German story.)

BY G. B. BARTLETT.

CHARA CTERS.
fTall boy in foppish attire, dress coat with brass buttons,
w e J white hat with black band, eye-glass, cane, bright chintz
Po- ey. vest and tight pantaloons, ruffled shirt, button-hole
Bouquet, black gloves, black mask.
Tonny W .ita ery small boy in white suit, with face and
Tontny Wd e. hands chalked white.
A notheroy. Same size,with suit of black cambric, black mask,
and tight-fitting black skull-cap.
Dink and Harry.-Two boys in common attire.
C Tall boy in long robe of black muslin, ornamented
The AMagician. with figures cut from yellow cloth; very tall, black,
Pointed hat trimmed with yellow.
SCENE I.
The abode of the Magician, Scribble Scrabble Spatter Ink, who sits
at a table covered with manuscript, holding a pen three feet
long, which he often dips into a huge ink-pot, that stands beside
the table near the center of the room. His pen-wiper, larger
than a big cabbage, can be made of red muslin, with black pieces
stuck on to represent ink-stains. The ink-stand is made by
covering a barrel with black muslin, dull side out; the bottom is
made larger than the rest by winding clothes about the lower
part of the barrel under the cover. The word "ink" is printed with
white chalk on the side of the ink-stand. The magician seems
deep in literary labor, often dipping his pen into the ink-stand,
and then writing, as if inspired. He is so absorbed that he at
first pays no attention to the continued knocking of Julius Caesar
Pompey Augustus, who bursts into the room as if in terror and
out of breath. The magician looks up with great dignity and
completely awes Pompey, who leans against the wall in terror.
Magician. I am the greatest writer that the world
has ever seen,
I cover half the pages of the "Weakly Magazine; "

I keep the world in order, with the magic of my
pen,
And teach the best of manners to the worst of
boys and men.
Pompey. Great Scribble Scrabble Spatter Ink,
I come to ask a boon;
I see you're very busy, so I'll state my business
soon.
The naughty boys annoy me, because I am not
white,
And I beg that you will help me to set the matter
right.
Magician. State your grievance, August Pompey,
as quickly as you can,
For I am always glad to help a colored brother
man;
'Tis the duty of a writer to right the wrongs
of all,
And to shed his ink most freely for the good of
those who call,
Pomgpey. [Struts across the room with greatairs.
When, in this modest manner, I promenade the
street,
I attract the idle notice of all the boys I meet,
And some of them leave off at once their labor or
their games

[NovBMBn,

1878.] THE MAGICIAN'S LESSON. 61

To run along behind me, and call me ugly
names.
Magician. Keep dark, poor Pompey Caesar,
and when forth again you walk,
And are troubled by boys' actions, or by their
idle talk,
Just run with all your might to me, and if they
follow you,
I'll teach them such a lesson as will make them
very blue.
Pompey. Expect them very soon, great sir, for
I am very sure
Their cruel speech and actions I no longer can
endure.
I'll bring before your highness the very first I
meet,
And I know that I shall see them at the corner
of the street.
[Pompey goes out backward, bowing most profoundly, and the
Magician settles down to his writing as if absorbed.

SCENE II.
A street. Tom, Dick and Harry are engaged in playing marbles in
the right corner. Julius Caesar Pompey Augustus enters at
right, and struts along.
Tommy. There goes that Julius Caesar with all
his pomp and pride;
How high he holds his haughty head! Note his
conceited stride !
Now let us follow after him, and have a little
fun,
And let us chase him home again, as fast as he
can run.
Pomfey. You naughty boys desist, I pray,
and pay me more respect;
If I am darker in my face, pray why should you
object ?
If your black hearts showed in your face, then
all the world could see
That I, the white, and you, the dark, would then
most surely be.
Tommy. Come show us, Pompey Caesar, how
fast your legs can run,
For we are going to chase you now to have a
little fun.
So run, you unbleached contraband, as quickly
as you can;
Run, run, you brunette brother, you stylish
African.
[Pompey runs off, as if in terror, and the three boys run after him.

SCENE III.
The abode of the Magician as before, excepting that the small boy,
dressed completely in black, is concealed inside the ink-stand.
The Magician is still writing very busily as before, and looks up
in great surprise and annoyance as Pompey dashes into the room,
closely followed by the three boys, who seem frightened and try
to escape, but the door proves to be closely shut behind them,

and they stand looking at the Magician, who lays down his pen,
after wiping it carefully on his huge pen-wiper, rises from his
chair and speaks.
.i.'. .. .Why are you here, 0, sable one?
and you three idle boys?
To stop the current of my thought with your
discordant noise?
Do you know the world will suffer, if I lay aside
my pen?
For it is mightier than the sword when wielded
by some men.
Pompey. Great sir, I am the very man who
called a while ago,-
The one to whom you promised to take away his
woe.
I am Julius Casar Pompey, and I bring before
you here
The boy who makes my life so hard, and keeps
me full of fear.
Magician. What is your name, you naughty
boy ? and what have you to say
In answer to this cruel charge, that you, in idle
play,
Have troubled this poor African, because he's
poor and weak?
Or is it that his face is black? What is your
answer ?-speak !
Tommy. My name is Tommy Whiteface, and I
own that I have done
A very hard and cruel thing, to make poor
Pompey run.
But he walked so very oddly, and had so many
airs,
That we tried to teach him manners, and to give
him little scares.
Magician. I am here to teach you manners,
and will try to scare you too,
So you will never plague a man because he's
black or blue.
I '11 dip you in my ink-stand, and Pompey then
can see
You can no longer laugh at him, for you '11 be as
black as he.
[The Magician then takes up Tommy by the collar of his coat
and dips him into the ink-stand. Then he takes hold of the
collar of the boy in black clothes, who has been concealed, and
lifts him out; so to the audience the effect is very startling, as
he has apparently changed color. He puts the boy down, and
Pompey and the other boys point at him and laugh.
Magician. Laugh not at him, poor Pompey,
because he laughed at you,
But try to pity and forgive, and learn this maxim
true,-
'T is only manners make the man, and whether
black or white,
You always can command respect, if you respect
the right.

CURTAIN.

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS.

BESSIE BARTON'S LARGE FAMILY.

BESSIE BARTON is a little girl with a great many brothers and sisters, but
they all are grown up, and she is the only child left.
It is a very lonely thing to be just one little girl in a big house, and one
day Bessie really could not stand it. She said she must have something alive
to play with, so her mamma made it known that she would like to have a
kitten. The next morning some boys brought her seven. She could n't

make a choice, so she took them all. You never saw such a greedy girl for
kittens; she wanted one for every day in the week, she said. She had one
over, for a girl brought a little gray kitten, curled up fast asleep in a bird-
cage !
"Oh!" cried Bessie, "I'll take that, too! I have n't a single gray one."
So the other girl lifted up the top of the cage and let out the kitten. The
poor little thing had awakened and was making a dreadful noise and
scratching.

[NOVEMBER,

1878.] FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS. 63

He has n't a very good disposition, I 'm afraid," she said. I call him
'Pepper;' that's gray, you know, and kind of sharp and fiery. What do
you call your other kittens ? "
Oh, my said Bessie, I don't know. Boys brought them, and they
never do think of things like girls. What shall I do ? "
"I'll help you," said the other girl. And the two curly-heads puzzled
themselves for full an hour to find names that would "fit the pussies," as
Bessie said.
There was "Pepper," to begin with; then the twins they called "Trotty"

lnd "Spotty," and the three black ones "Topsy," and "Jet," and "Snuffy"
(because one had such a funny little way with its nose); and the two white
kittens Snow" and "Whitey."
Bessie was a very happy girl now, and played all day long with her family
of kittens. But they had to sleep in the cellar; mamma said there really
was n't room for so many kittens anywhere else. That was bad. Once
Snow got among the coal, and Bessie had to give her a bath, in a real bath-
tub, before she-was fit to be seen. That was a dreadful punishment, for cats
are like some children, and never like to be washed.
When Bessie opened the door for the kittens each morning, they always

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS.

came hurrying in, saying "good-morning," as plainly as kittens can say it,
and calling out, pussy fashion, "Do hurry up breakfast; we're hungry."
This breakfast was a great yellow bowlful of milk. It was quite heavy,
but Bessie would let no one -but herself carry it to.the corner of the kitchen
which belonged to her kittens, who crowded so closely around that sometimes
she almost tripped.
It was a very funny sight to see the eight furry little heads around this one
bowl, and eight little tongues lapping milk
; i together. You would have thought it was the
S Ii', \,-c rr milk thte ever had tasted, and that
the\ v-re afraid it would I- the last. They
'.-." -.". '_' 3lll',I -U,hed and crow\derd in a s:ft kirtten-y way,
----. ..-..__ -. .... ..,..,'-- .. that did in t h rr a bit; -,i-ii-: \ lhitr-v, w ho w as

not as tall as the other kittens, had to stand up and lean over very far; once
she fell in and was almost drowned before Bessie could get her out.
As soon as the kittens were old enough, Bessie began to have school.
Her school was on the Kindergarten system. She had little balls of light-
colored paper or worsted and bits of string; and I could n't begin to tell you
the wonderful things her scholars did with them.
Once something happened which almost put an end to Bessie's school for-
ever. It was a very warm summer morning, so she sat in her little chair
near the garden door of the sitting-room, and her scholars would rush out

[NOVEMBER,

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS.

and chase butterflies till they were tired; then they would come back and lie
down and wink lazily at Bessie, or wash their faces right in school, getting
ready for a good nap; and would not attend to their lessons at all. Sud-
denly a sharp KI-YI" was heard, and there at the open door stood a
little Scotch terrier, looking in; his shaggy hair hanging down over his
eyes, his little white teeth gleaming, and one paw uplifted as if ready for
a spring.
One look from the kittens, and school was out. Those who could run, ran;
but Snow was so frightened she could not stir, and Topsy and Spotty were n't
much better off. Even Bessie fell back in her chair and held up her hands
in terror. Pepper was the only brave one; he got his back up and sputtered
as fiercely as he could.
Bessie soon recovered her courage; then the little dog came up to her,
wagging his little bit of a tail and looking so friendly that she put out her
hand and patted him.
He did n't seem to belong to any one, and he would not go away; so, as he
was a very little fellow, Mr. Barton said they would keep him.
What shall we call him, papa? asked Bessie.
Ki-yi! barked the dog, who was standing by wagging his funny little
tail, and looking very much as if he understood what was going on.
'Oh, hear him! laughed Bessie, clapping her hands, He has named
himself." So they called him Kiyi. At first the kittens did not like him at
all; but he was very good and never barked at them or ran after them, so
after a while they grew to be quite fond of Master Kiyi, and would play all
day long with him.
Kiyi goes to Bessie's school, too, and is "head scholar." But Bessie loves
them all the same, and thinks her large family just the nicest and best in the
world.

VOL. VI.-5.

JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.

Joci JxK-IN- HL- ULLi T.

ST. NICHOLAS is five years old this month, and
a good, bright, happy five-year-old he is, or my
name's not Jack. If every one could do as much
in five years as ST. NICHOLAS has done,-teaching,
helping, and amusing thousands upon thousands
of people, little and big,-what a world this would
be !
All honor to him on his sixth birthday, and a long
life of usefulness and joy !
Now you shall have

A MOTTO FOR "THANKSGIVING" DAY.
A BIT of paper has come to me marked A
Motto for T-! i. :; ;, : Day." That means every
day, I suppose, unless there are some days on
which one ought not to be thankful.
This is what the scrap says,-and I hope you will
be duly grateful for that, too, my dears:
One day, as the famous Frenchman Descartes
was *, 11t.i at a table piled with good l1i _.. a gay
nobleman came up, and said to him:
Hey !-What ?-Do you philosophers eat dain-
ties?"
"And do you -' -1: ..." mildly answered
D-.. ,t.:'. that good things were made only for

From this you may see that even good things
are to be taken .-r.:.lli -as philosophers take
them.
THE NAVAJOES AND TURKEYS.
AT i-. one would think that 'ri-, a- ought to
be happy out among the ', ..: who live
near the north-western border of Mexico, for red
men of that tribe will not eat them. They believe
that bad white men, when 1. die, are changed
into turkeys, and this .1, -..I ,;. I 'm told, takes
away the Indian's relish *i bird.
ai,-. after ,1I. this makes very little difference to

the turkeys, for, -.i...i.1 the Navajoes themselves
will not eat them, they are very ready to catch the
poor things and sell them to white men who have
not yet been changed.

QUEER PLACES FOR SHELTER.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Will you let me tell your young folks
something?
One day Papa came in with something tied in his handkerchief,
and told us t< ,... 1. :. was. I guessed spring-flowers; but
Charleysaid, 5 *.. *' j. I .: 'r .; 1;.. '' Thenheshouted
out "Snakes!" Papa shook .: I,..J !I I -. Charley shouted
"Birds!" Ptf --i' n -'mok his head. Then Charley shouted
"Toads !" P j J J ." and put the handkerchief on the table,
and began untying it, while the children clustered around.
He laid back the corners of the handkerchief: there were three
dark-gray 1i-i.- 1. ~i 1 ... close uIt 1 .. big ball. In the
midst ofth '.' i-.' -d. the the big ball shot
over to a book-case and hung like a bat against a blue-book, while
the three little balls rolled over, and showed twelve legs a-working
fI.. ,,,. :i !" shouted Charley. Charley was always shout-
i.. i ... id was deaf. Yes, it was a mother flying-squirrel
,.. 1- .1 1- ..:...-l
i.. i' *. *.--. .. r- .: '" shouted Charley.
"Let's!" I. ..-.j1 .I r.
So we brought in the pretty blue cage, where the dear little canary
had died, and put in ... '. ...- r .. I heaped the floor with corn
and cracked nuts. ?'. .. and r-- "-n'l-- pl1-ed
Mamma Bunny. It was sport to see her flying L. -..:
and from perch to floor.
That night we put the cage in a closet to keep it from the cat.
S-I ... .- ..- : : all at the closet to see the funny
p- '. ..- I -.. :, .:...-.r Bunny had squeezed through the
. I .. I -..r ... :.pless babies. But where had she
I L. -.. i .. I .: i and looked and looked all about
ti. .i .7.: ,, -:- : ., 1 .,Fi .,.. earch,
' ,,r ,I., L..:' .' I: i..: but the next morning they were out
agi it, r-. '. .- hid under Charley's pillow, inside the
case. Another time we found them in 0i-. 1-. *i. s_ ..- _:1.:...
the towels. She hid once with all her .. ..- I.. I. ,
know how she could have got them up t,. i: *... i ......
Papa went to put on his stocking, I. f ,i i I ' n I.:'
-, i- .. .... .: 1: in m a pigeon-hole
1 I : j .' r I .. I I ... ..... ', -i placesthatsome-
.looked
I. I '.. .. I., .. ,- 1.. -: .... i-. .iohbe. The pocket
seemed very heavy. I put in my hand and jerked it out with a
scream, for I had felt something soft and warm,-Bunny and her
babies !--Yours truly, S. W. K.

A HUMMING-BIRD'S MISTAKE.
Flemington, N. J.
DEAR T T. :ir--.u told how a bee was
" sold ". f-. i. 1i l-.
It remin-d.-m tr- T -'--l e n th. ..- r-h -w re
flowers, I... ..n- .r, i r i i r 1 .
actually I'. .- I i ..: .1 .
very pret i 0. ., .I " I -1 l i.
instinct?
By theway, I oce heard Profess' LCl- -end fi N-?" Te
say that "Iostinct is a convenient wor. i r- J .1,. I,..
their ignorance."-Yours, with many I.. -.:-, ..
**[ .. .- ::

WATER-MELONS ON THORNS.
LDEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I have read what you told us in
October about the "Joy of the Desert," and now I wish to tell you
*. r: kind of planting do...: ii .: \rabs. In the
..r ;1 t -. r, It is called
S r -. .. i.. i. .. 1.. .. moisture. The Arabs
.. i :..~I I i .,l-. i-. i -.,- put in a water-m elon
seed. Ti-.'..i i grows, producing a delicious fruit. Don't
you t 0 .. .. .. H.

A GOOD THING WELL SAID.
My DEAR T r PT : ask the boys and girls to tell you who it
was that said -i-. I -.: goc' I I. I hom he said it. I
know but I wish them to know -' ..... L .1 SILAS GREEN.
His heart was as wide as the world, but there
was no room in it to hold the memory of a wrong."

[NOVEMBER,

JACK-IN-TIHE-PULPIT.

A RIVER IN A STRAIT-JACKET.
DEAR, dear I 'd always had a notion that strait-
jackets were things put on crazy people to keep
them from hurting themselves; but now comes
word that a person named Eads has made up his
mind, and actually begun, to put the Mississippi
River into a strait-jacket !
His plan is to build out from each bank into the
broad stream a number of narrow jetties at proper
distances apart. Jetties are long walls made of
withes woven into large, flat, oblong frames, and
these frames are weighted with stones and sunk
and fastened into place in layers, one above
another.
On watching some of these jetties at the river's
mouth, just after they were placed, it was found
that, at first, the water stole slowly through them;
but, on its way, it left upon every part, inside and
outside, a great deal of the mud it was carrying.

7 --_: _---; -. tr- -. *

4. 1 I I' All,.

MY D
x- ---.- ,
_--__-_ -,-

At length, so much mud had been left that the
water could no longer get through, and had to flow
past the ends of the jetties, only eddying idly in
the bays at their sides, and leaving more and more
of its mud upon them all the time.
Then, of course, the river between the jutting
ends of the opposite jetties being much less than
its former width, and yet as full as ever, rushed
along, scooping a deep channel, straight, free from
snags and shoals, narrow when compared with its
former self, and livelier, but restrained from over-
-. .. its banks.

A WATER-SPOUT ON THE HUDSON.
MY DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Having seen the picture of a
e October number, I thought I would write and tell
S / i water-spout not long ago. I was visiting at a place
u tie Hudson when two thunder-storms came, one up the river, the
other down. They met almost directly in front of where I was, and a

J'H

REAM

spout was formed, which whirled rapidly round and round until
ouds of rain shut it from sight. I read the next day in the local
. .1i,., the spout was estimated to be twenty-five or thirty
short article under your picture said that you did not know
., .1 .-..i .. ... 1... water or reached from the clouds
SrJ i : I i line from the river and reached tip-
to the clouds.-Yours respectfully,
"AN INQUIRING OBSERVER."

ACOCK FISH, PEACOCKS AND LITTLE BOYS.
HEY tell me that there is a kind of fish in the In-
seas called the peacock fish, because of his brill-
colors. I wonder if he is as proud as our land
ock, and whether or not he can spread his tail
grand occasions after the fashion of the bird
struts into my meadow sometimes ? This bird
on a fine estate near by, but once in a while
homess over to astonish us with his splendor.
night I dreamed that he came along, and had
spread himself and put on his grand airs, when

..,, -- 1 v ..

little youngsters sprang from nowhere in par-
&4 "
/,--,

,&:_. im --.../

lar, and began to point at him with shouts and
:hter.
Ho ho !" cried they. Is n't he proud ? Ho !

hiqueer little stumpy-tailed dream-dog was with
n, and he fairly sneered instead of barking.
Well exclaimed the peacock in the harshest
:e you ever heard, "what if I am proud?
o 'd ever see these tail feathers, I 'd like to know.
was n't proud ? Look out that you 're not proud,
ou that have n't a feather on your bodies,-
-a-u-w! '"
'his was too much for the ten little boys. They
e a shout, and sprang upon the peacock, and
h one tried to get a feather, but he gave a
nendous scream and-
awoke, and there was the sun, with every ray
ead, rising to the tune of Cock-a-doodle-doo !

THE LETTER-BOX.

THE LETTER-BOX.

THE paper on California street-cars in this number of ST. NICHOLAS
will interest you very much, we trust, for it was written in San Fran-
cisco by a gentleman who found out all he could concerning the road,
on purpose to tell you about it. He also had the photographs taken
from which our pictures are made, so that you might see exactly how
the cars and streets look. ST. NICHOLAS alreadyhas told you many
things of California and Colorado, and there are others of which it
hopes some day to speak. Many of you may remember the picture
of Seal Rock, near San Francisco, in our very first number, and
Miss Greatorex's sketches of the Garden of the Gods, in Col-
orado, published thirteen months later. The editor of this mag-
azine lately has seen these things in reality. She has walked in the
Garden of the Gods, and seen all its wonderful stone images that
nature set there none can say how many centuries ago, and she has
stood on the white sands where the Pacific Ocean rolls in night and
day, and watched the great seals sporting on huge rocks that
rise from the sea, only a few yards from shore. She has ridden in
those very horse-cars of which you have a photograph this month,
and been "towed by rail" along with Chinamen and little San Fran-
cisco boys and girls until she felt quite at home among them.
Dear San Francisco girls and boys !-can she ever forget them?-
how a large number formed themselves into a gay procession bearing
banners, and torches, made of tall callas, with scarlet flowers stuck in
for the flame, and came to her door, laden with flowers and cheering
in honor of ST. NICHOLAS. A beautiful sight it was, and its memory
never will leave the grateful heart it cheered.
Yes, all across the continent, the boys and girls everywhere had a
good word for ST. NICHOLAS, and in some way their facesseem now to
link themselves into a bright garland stretching from New York to San
Francisco, so fresh, dewy and smiling that snow blockades and alkali
dust are forgotten, and only the pleasures of the trip are remembered;
only the fact that joy and health came to her and staid, and that
American scenery, even as viewed from the railroad, has the spirit of
almost all the fine scenery of the world. It was June, but we had
snow. There were gardens, but we slipped past them into forests.
There were prairies, but we were whirled to them through mountain
gorges. There were sparkling stretches of sand, but the mountain
streak soon leapt down and made us forget them.
The Pacific Railroad,-what a wonderful thing it is Every day
it takes its fresh loads of travelers and freight. Every day its cars
start from New York for the Pacific shores, and every day they meet
trains coming eastward to the Atlantic. No more hardships to endure,
such as you read ofin Mr. Brooks's story of The Boy Emigrants,"
where people had to cross the great West as best they could, in wagons,
on foot and on horseback, exposed to countless privations and dangers.
Now you sit in luxury all day, sleep in luxury all night, and sail on
wheels across the living map of these United States, studying afresh
state or territory almost every day. In a word, the Pacific Railroad
is something for which every civilized American should give thanks,
- and this is a wonderful country.

Lacon, Ills.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Perhaps you would like to know how we
once caught a canary bird.
One day my little sister was playing on the piano when a little
stray bird came hopping in and seemed to be attracted by the music;
for when the music ceased the bird would hop away, coming again
at every stroke of the piano until i.l .1 -. e with an open door
onthe floor, when it walked in. '. o. r.- .' "or, and it remains
with us to this day. It has a very pretty top-knot, and we named it
Topsy It is a very sweet singer, and we should not like to part with
it.-Your constant reader, E. B. T.

Mountain Top Hotel.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little sick girl, and I have got to
lie down a great deal in the day, and your magazine helps me to
pass the h .. rl ..,.d .,r. ,. he mountains last sum-
mer, and r '*..i.le ipl. i... -..I I Icould hardlygoout
to walk, and I must say I would like to have seen a snake. But not
by myself.
My little sister is the only one in the family that gets stung by bees
Last summer she was stung on her lip, and papa said the bee kissed

her, ond T't;n n 1-fm 7 -T. her on her lip, and the next time she was
stung .. -i.. I... I, did look funny when she came down the
next morning with her lip all swelled up. I am ten years old. I
have to stop. Give my love to Jack-in-the-Pulpit.-I remain your
constant reader, MARY STEWART SMITH.
P. S.-Some people spell my name this way, Stuart. I spell it any
way.

Springfield, Tenn.
DEAR ST. NICKLESS: i am one of you little readers and i thought
i would tell you a bout a fight i had with a tree frorg the other day i
was at my grand ma he had been a staying thare in a shugar tree in
the back yard for a year or. so the other day he crawled up to the
opening of his hole and begun to lick his tong out'at me, i got me a
long pole and stuck it up in the opening and pull him out he begun to
jumpe at me until lie got in reached of me and I gove him a lick on the
head and ended him.-Yours, CLARENCE I. HOLMAN.
We do not see what need there was for Clarence to kill the frog,
which fed on insects and would have done no harm; but we print
his letter because of its graphic description of the fight.

WORK FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS.
THE picture of "The Young Hunter" on page 28 was drawn espe-
cially to illustrate a story by some ST. NICHOLAS reader, but we don't
know yet who the lucky young author is. Though the picture is
ready, the story is still to be told. Who will tell it? The best story
received before November ist shall be printed with tie picture in our
Young Contributor's Department, and all we ask is that it shall be
neatly written and on only one side of the paper; that the writer's
name, age and address, shall be placed at the top of the first sheet,
and that the length SHALL NOT exceed 500 words. Now, boys and
girls, let us hear from every one of you.

ALLITERATIVE SENTENCES.
Minneapolis, Minn.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In your September "Letter-Box," a sen-
tence is asked for, each word of which is to begin with Z. Here is
one: "Zounds zouaves zoutch zygodactylous zoo-zoos zealously?"
We give herewith the dictionary translation: "Zounds Zouaves
stew pair-toed wood-pigeons zealously ? "
Your friends, HELEN B. & JENNIE MARSH.
Brooklyn, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I think it must be very difficult to speak
correctly the language of which "Maud" wrote in our September
number; but nevertheless I have composed a sentence with each
word beginning with Z, and here it is: "Zoned Zebulus zanied
zealous Zelie's zebu." As this sentence is difficult to solve, I shall
translate it: Girdled Zebulus imitated zealous Zelie's zebu." I am
twelve years old, and have never written to you before. Zebulus and
Zelie are both Latin proper names. Yours truly, H. M. J.

Detroit, Mich.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am nine years old. I want to tell you
about a picnic that I went to this summer, and the same thing hap-
pened to us that happened to the children in the story of "One Sat-
urday," in the June number of ST. NICHOLAS. I was visiting in
Winterset, Iowa, and my uncle took us to a picnic on the Devil's
Backbone. It is a ledge of rock nearly two hundred feet high, with a
river running around three sides of it. We rode out there in the morn-
ig, and after they had unharnessed the horses from the carriages we
went down to the river to fish. By and by we began to get hungry,
and we went up to set the table and get dinner. When we got there
we saw a horrid old cow with her nose in one of the baskets of lunch,
and another old cow was dragging mamma's ulster off into the woods.
They had eaten all the bread and butter, but had not got as far as the
ice-cream, so I did not feel as bad as the grown people did. I thought
right away about the children in the story. Good-bye.-Your friend,
FRANK C. BALDWIN.
P. S.-I forgot to tell you that my uncle's hotel, where I was stay-
ing, was named the ST. NICHOLAS.

Chateau Thierry, Marne, France.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You will know by the address of my
letter that in the far-off valley of the Marne, as in many other coun-
tries, you have friends and readers. My sister, Louise, and I are so

* See ST. NICHOLAS for November, 1873.

[NOVEMBER,

THE LETTER-BOX.

glad when ST. NICHOLAS comes, the stories are so nice and the pict-
ures so pretty.
This is a very picturesque part of France. On the hill-sides are
pretty villages with woods and vineyards and wheat-fields between.
And there are many donkeys, for the vignerons use them to cultivate
their fields, which are so steep that carts cannot go up. Good-bye,
dear ST. NICHOLAS.-Your little friend and reader,
CLOTILDE DE LA VAULX.

Newark, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you a long time and like you
very much indeed. I send you a few verses of poetry which I made
myself, and hope you will print them.-Yours truly, N. V. U.

THE LAKE.
0 come you hither And we will eat
From that lake, It by the lake,
For my own sake, For our own sake,
For my own sake. For our own sake.
And bring with And we will also
You a little cake, Our dog take,
For your own sake, For his own sake,
For your own sake. For his own sake.

Camden, N. J.
DEAR LITTLE SCHOOLMA'AM: I send you a list of the different
ways in which the name Girard has been spelled on letters passing
through the post-office at Girard since June, 1878.
I think that it is quite as remarkable as the differentways of spelling
kerosene, as mentioned by Mary N. G." in "Jack-in-the-Pulpit"
for December, 1877.
Scherard, Girhard, Ciret, Girarde, Scherath, Gerart, Scharait,
Juryard, Gyrard, Jerod, Gerrard, Dearard, Cirard, Sirard, Garald,
Girart, Girad, Jerard, Gard, Girrard, Guyrard, Girrd, Shrad, Grairad,
Giarid, Gired, Garrad, Gerard, Gyard, Gried, Girriard, Giriad, Gi-
yard, Girard, Girako, Grara, Gigard, Gerat, Girte, Girrar, Girraid,
Gurard, Charard, Juard, Girah, Siarrard, Garyeride, Giraret, Chrad,
Jewrard, Gairyard, and Sirard.
One word spelled fifty-two different ways, and none correct!
Your reader, M. E. ADAMS.

North Chemung, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHoLAS: I would like to ask a favor of you. Will
you please tell me how to make a "Christmas city." I am eleven
years old and live in North Chemung, Chemung County, N. Y. I
must now close.-Your constant reader, FREDDIE CASADY.
A full and clear description of the way to make a Christmas city"
is printed in ST. NICHOLAS for May, 1874.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Would you like to hear about a little city
boy's doings one day in the country? Here is the story.-Yours truly,
M. H. J.

Bo'S FIRST DAY IN THE COUNTRY.
His name was Boanerges Smith, and he was seven years old, the
pet and pride of the family. His parents were about to go to Europe,
but Bo-that was his name for short-was to stay behind. So, a
week or two before his parents were to start, he was sent to a maiden
aunt in the country.
Bo had never been in the country before. All he knew about it
was that milk, butter and eggs, came from there, and that they had
something to do with cows and hens; cheese grew there too, and
-.-.-1 .,,, he thought.
': i his aunt's late at night, and, wide-awake, at sunrise,
started out in search of knowledge. Some eggs in the pantry set him
at his questions. Having found out that once a day each hen laid an
egg in a nest in the barn and wood-shed, he soon came in with a hat-
ful.
Isn't it time for maple sugar to be ripe, auntie?" he asked,
presently.
"No!" said she, sharply, and then explained the maple-sugar
process.
A brood of soft, downy, yellow chickens called forth his delight.
"Where did the hens get all those little birds, auntie?"
"'The hen just sits on the eggs and keeps them warm, and the
chickens come out of them, one out of each egg."
A new idea was born in that boy's head. He gathered the nest-
eggs out of all the nests.
"I '1 have live chickens, anyhow," he said, and lie sat down on
the eggs to warm them. There were no chickens to show, and the stain
would n't wipe off, hard as he tried.

His aunt was very angry when he told the how and why.
You've broken up all the nests."
"Oh no, auntie. I didn't break the nests; 'twas just the eggs!"
said Master Bo. And his clothes were changed
An old torn picture-book of animals next attracted his attention
What's this, aunt?" asked he.
"It's an ant-eater," she said, glancing at it and then off to her
c".i: 1 "71"'
.' i-.; 1 they call it so for? "
"Because it eats ants."
Truly? Aint you fooling me? "
"No. I never do such things."
'. How ...: .
"1 don', .- .
"Does it eat boys?"
"iVo. I said it eats ants."
Is n't it wicked for it to eat aunts ?"
"No. It is made on purpose for that."
"Do you think they have any in London ?"
"Boanerges Smith, just you go away now, and not ask another
question, or I '1 put you to bed."
Bo went sadly away. By and by he sat down to fulfill a promise
to write to his father. This is what he wrote:
Deer pa i want you to git me a anteater in london ant ses tha are
made a purpus to eat ants. an i want wun to eat her up she is so cross
to me i found 8 egs to day an i seddown on 5 an I did n't git eny
chickens atol i want to go home an see ma an you patoo from your
son bo."
His father read it, and the end was that Bo was brought home and
taken to Europe after all.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Will you please put this riddle in the
"Letter-Box," and I shall be very much obliged to you. The
answer is not hard to find, I think.-Your friend and reader, L. E.

RIDDLE.
There is in, on, and round this earth
A Power clothed with light,
A wonder-working, airy thing,
Yet neither fiend nor sprite.

Man feared, then chained, this dreadful Power
By force of stronger law.
Oft dazzled by its raiment bright,
Its self man never saw.

Now, tamed and harnessed, it is sent
On errands night and day;
It tells ten thousand messages,
Yet not a word can say.

It travels through the ocean's deep,
Green valleys still and dun
'Tis fleeter than the fleetest fish,-
And yet it cannot swim.

It pierces through the soundless seas,
And slips beneath the sky;
But though it passes through the air,
It has no wings to fly.

And while it cannot walk, nor talk,
Nor eat, nor drink, nor sleep,
There 's scarce a thing in all the world
Has made more people weep.

Than any herald on this earth
It has a fleeter fame.
Now, just put on your. thinking-cap,
And tell me what's its name.

Plainfield, Connecticut.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like to read the other little girls' letters, so
perhaps they will like to read mine.
In the winter I read you aloud evenings. But in the summer I
cuddle in some shady comer, and have you all to myself.
I went on an excursion to Block Island last summer. The sail was
pleasant, but the boat was awfully crowded. We were tired coming
home; but we all laughed when a tipsy man on the cars sang,
"There is rest for the weary." I should have liked Block Island a
great deal better if they had had nice things to eat at the hotels.
I cannot cook anything but mud-pies; but I am learning to sew,
and to-day I finished the sixth sheet I have been turning. My sister
said they were nice for me to learn on, and she praised me, and told
me I had done bravely. But I used to sigh dreadfully over them
some days, when the sun was hot, and my pies were out in the full

THE RIDDLE-BOX.

blaze. I make them in scalloped tins, and they are really delicious
to look at. I don't think pies are healthy, so I never eat them.
I am twelve years old, and weigh eighty pounds, and am just as
well as I can be all the time. And when I go to bed it only seems a
minute before morning, because I sleep so soundly.
My cousin Ned brought a St. Bernard puppy from New York last
week; but the first day he was here he fell out of the hammock where
he was swinging, and broke his neck. I think it was the saddest
thing that could happen to him.-I am your loving little friend,
DAISY EATON.

Camden, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken your magazine since it
was first published, and having read in it many little stories about

children's pets, I thought I would give an account of our singing
mouse.
We have had it two years and a half. My father caught it in a trap;
it looks like a common mouse and is very tame, eating from our hands
and singing when we whistle to it.
It eats bread, cheese, starch, and otherthings, and also drinks milk,
but likes water better It lives in a starch-box, with a little cage on
top, and with a wheel in which it delights to turn. It has escaped
several times, but always seems pleased to get back. Once it was
away two or three days, but was found in the cellar by my sister; it
was on a high shelf looking over the edge at her; she was attracted
by its singing.
One night one of the family found a very small mouse in a bedroom
singing very sweetly; it sat still until she tried to catch it, when, un-
fortunately, she smothered it.-Yours truly, W. RUSSELL FEARON.

THE RIDDLE-BOX.

A NEW STYLE OF PUZZLE. position. 7, Penetrated with leaden pellets; having foot-coverings.
8. A sharp sound made with the hands; a 'long-shore inhabitant.
DOUBLE RHYMING. CYRIL DEANE.
IN each of the following verses, find a suitable word to put at the DIAMOND.
beginning of the first line; prefix a letter to this word to make the 1. IN swallow, not in cuckoo. 2. A projection sometimes found on
first word for the second line, and, to the word so made, prefix the wheels of intricate machinery. 3. A mark indicating omission.
another letter to make the first word for the third line. Proceed in 4. A small bird that sings sweetly. 5. A juicy summer vegetable.
like manner in order to make the words that are to be put at the ends 6. A spelled number. 7. In tiger, not in koodoo. ISOLA.
of the lines. Then, in each verse, the beginning words
will rhyme by themselves, and the ....: 1 h-,n- EASY R TtHYMED REBUS FOR YOUNGER PUZZLERS.
selves. Thus: if the first word of I.: ., i.... ..,"
the second line might begin with "train," and the third with
"' strain; and, if the last word of the first line were "asp," 4 ii t' ..'
the second line might end with "rasp," and the third with ____-- -._1 1i .i_:

-- in whist, with players, is always sought by ___ -. .. .
by wealth, to matrons, is brought within their -.
the soldier hero, to hold the deadly --.
are not caught at sea, out where the billows '
-- are used for trout, for blue-fish you must .
are by anglers used, when by a stream they -- I
one of Irving's stories, the hero's name is --
crossed his path one time,and gave him one sore--. ---- ---... _- -- ._._-J A.,-'-
is a Chinese word;-the ending word is --
give to me," says God, "that peaceful be thy i,

-- shepherd Hear yon wolf! 'Ware, lest thy flock
he .-- -' -- -- --
off each woolly fleece! and take them then to 'F il i-
fruit the grocer sold and paper by the -- ."3- 4J-l -
fresh and good le sold, and coffee, tea and ---- --
gave he to his boy; the neighbors heard him --.

RHOMBOID PUZZLE. ---- : I- --

....'.Q".. --

AcRoss: i. A portion. 2. Fit. 3. An animal. 4. A lass.
DowN: r. A vegetable. 2. A verb. 3. A color. 4. To be full.
5. A beverage. 6. In rigmarole. 7. A river in Scotland. s. N. c.
WHAT IS IT?
KruNGooMs: Animal, Vegetable, Mineral, and National.
Prominent in membership of the strictest cold-water society;
bestows an hereditary title of honor; the voice of sorrow and of
suffering; the result ofblows; rugged, and wildly picturesque; quiet
and inoffensive, but disturbing peaceful elements when excited;
though living in the midst of a cold-blooded set, that prey upon one
another, and upon travelers in their domain, ever preserving the
warmth of a large, generous nature, that has been devoted to the
enlightenment of the world. M. s. R.
CHANGED FINALS.
IT ... ,1... : samples change the last letter of the word
f,, i d. -.. I .-. the second.
i. A girl's name; a boy's nickname. z. A New England
cty; barterings. 3. A mart; a bird. 4. A manger; a stem of a
plant. 5. A tree; a flower. 6. To contrive; a dramatic com-

CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.
My first is in wait, but not in go;
My second in yes, but not in no;
My third is in live, but not in die:
My fourth is in laugh, but not in cry;
My fifth is in in, but not in out:
My sixth is in lean, but not in stout;
My seventh is in give, but not in take;
My eighth is in trowel, but not in rake;
My ninth and tenth are both in found,
And whole 's a general renowned.
J. SEDGWICK.
TWO EASY DOUBLE SQUARE-WORDS.
I. ACROSS: i. That which. 2. Uncommon. 3. Level. 4. Tidy.
Down: I. A bird. 2. To hold. 3. An inclosed space. 4. A
pavilion.
II. Across: A brilliant body. 2. Title. 3. A sign. 4. Togo.
Down: i. Congealed water 2. To domesticate. 3. An ejacula-
tion often met with in the Bible 4. To tear. H. H. D.

[NOVEMBER,

THE RIDDLE-BOX.

PICTORIAL PUZZLE.

.? / -.F.--1.'-_--- :'. --j-1' ',' "-..- 11: --- -

,l,,J "} ,, -',, ?'" ". -/ ~~ 8 ," ,,,

I, J
2 -W

S0.

Egwnt

Each picture suggests the title of a well-knosn English Play. What are the titles ?

EASY CENTRAL ACROSTIC.
THE centrals, reading downward, name a species of carbon. The
words are of one length.
2. A girl's name. 2. A title of respect. 3. A small animal.
4. Another girl's name. 5. A measure of length. 6. A conjunction.
7. To put together.
FRAME PUZZLE.

MAKE the frame of four words of ten letters each, so that the letter
O shall come at each of the four covers where the words intersect.
The words mean: Marvelous, an edged weapon, one of an old
school of poets, a stone used by jewelers. J. P. B.

SYNCOPATIONS.
S. SYNCOPATE a banquet, and leave an exploit. 2. Syncopate a
guide, and leave a stratagem. 3. Syncopate a genus of plants, and
leave a spar. 4. Syncopate a part of the body, and leave a legal
instrument. 5. Syncopate the stony frame of a certain sea-animal,
and leave a combustible fossil. 6. Syncopate part of an animal, and
leave a trigonometrical line. 7. Syncopate a carnivorous animal, and
leave transfer of property. 8. Syncopate a domestic animal, and
leave a prophet. c. o.

EASY DIAMOND PUZZLE.
A CONSONANT. .A large serpent. 3. A horned animal. 4. A
tree. 5. A vowel. ISOLA.

TRANSPOSITIONS.
In each of the following sentences, fill the first blank, or set of
blanks, with a word, or words, which, when suitably transposed, will
fill the remaining blank, or set of blanks, and make sense. Thus, in
the first sentence, the first blank may be filled with the word
"founders," and this may be transposed so as to make two words,
"four ends," which will fill the remaining blanks and make sense.

I. The of that college had in view, and one of them
was, to make both ends meet.
2. That French peasant girl-- volubly of her new -.
3. The crafty gypsy of our party home with good
4. "Do you not find that-the thought of such troubles you? "
"-, -, in feeling reconciled to my opponent."
5. ten pounds of silver.
6. The haughty of York and Leeds
Danced gayly o'er the flowery -
7. In that remote I think to the supportof education
in proportion to their means.
8. He did not wreath of oak-leaves for his brow, although
among them bobbed some little -.
9. Washington the people to pay great attention to the proper
- of the young.
rn. Said a confirmed opium-eater: "- -- cross new-
and visit strange countries."
in. I once heard a Connecticut boy say, as
I come in sight of my home on the !"' .

TIHE RIDDLE-BOX.

NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
I AM composed of twenty-five letters, and am the name ofa Club
which distinguished itself last summer.
My 25, s1, 6, 22, 2, is a summer resort. My 16 3 5,, is a
foreign city. My 5, 9, i, 2, 19, 20, 21, 13, 17, 20, is a noted character
in history. My 24, 23, 1, 14, to, 16, is an article of dress worn by
ladies and gentlemen. My 18, 4, 23, 8, 17, ir, 7, is a genial expres-
sion. HARRY H.

DROP-LETTER REVERSIBLE DIAMOND AND CON-
CEALED REVERSIBLE WORD-SQUARE.

-E-
-E-E-
-E-

FILL in the diagram, using only two other letters besides the one
given, in such a way as to form a reversible diamond containing a
reversible word-square. The diamond will then read, across:
i. In administratrix. 2. Moisture. 3. Sprinkled with brilliant
drops. 4. To unite. 5. In indemonstrable. PERRY ADAMS.

CHARADE.

FIRST.
THE noisiest of the noisy;
The blackest of the black;
The busiest of the busy,-
A mischief-loving pack.

SECOND.
We lengthen out by inches,
And suffer awful pinches.
Pedestrian and poet
To our assistance owe it
That they excel. Also by them it is
We're often brought to sad extremities.

WHOLE.
We affect corners,
And suggest birds.
We reveal ages,
Yet speak no words.

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN OCTOBER NUMBER.

ANAGRAMS.-I saw STUDENTS by the CENTER-TABLES, puzzling PROVERB ENIGMA.-" Great oaks from little acorns grow." i,
over MATHEMATICS, and perplexed about ASTRONOMt. Tiger; 2, slater; 3, frog; 4, maca T 6, loon.
REBUS.- KNIGHT'S-MOVE PUZZLE.-In I ..
"How sharper than a -.:. .,'. tooth it is As Knight upon this checkered board,
To have a thankless ...i. From square to square leaps boldly on;
COMPLETE DIAMOND.-- M As fiercely on the Persian horde,
COMPLETE DIAMOND.- Down poured the Greeks at Marathon;
RAT So may each youth who reads this lay,
SMAAT Press bravely onward to the fight,
TAR And through life's long hard battle day,
T Still strike for freedom, truth and right."
EASY AMPUTATED QUOTATION.- CABIN PUZZLE.-I, Hearthstone; 2, taxable; 3, demands; 4, neigh;
"True hearts are more than coronets, 5, treat; 6, eagle; 7, dean; 8, diet; 9, sere; ao, dim; ti, Ira;
And simple faith than Norman blood." o2, pen; z3, dip; 24, ire; 15, man; 6, bee; x7, Ava; i8, tar;
19, bat; so, Eva; 21, ear; 22, sag; 23, pre; 24, yet; 25, spy;
EASY CROSS-WORD PUZZLE.-Boston. 26, are; 27, get; 28, tan; 29, ode; 30, mad; 31, Tom; 32, Ada;
ANAGRAMi WRnn SoUARES.- 33, Ned.

CHOIR EIGHT DEPTH LAUGH
HORDE IDLER ESSAY ALPHA
1. ORRIS II. GLARE IIL PSALM IV. UPPER
IDIOT HERON TALON GHENT
RESTS TRENT HYMNS HARTS

POETICAL REBUS.-" O for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade "
RIDDLE.-A Drop.
SUGGESTED WORD-SQUARE.-
To buy a lime was foolish waste.
(I'd no idea how it would taste!)
"I'll just have bread and meat," said Daisy.
"Who eats a fruit like that, is crazy!"
VERY EASY SQUARE-WORD.-I, Pin; 2, ire; 3, new.
DECAPITATIONS.-I, Aerie, Erie; 2, chart, hart; 3, sloop, loop;
4, broom, room; 5, crate, rate; 6, screw, crew; 7, class, lass; 8,
cheat, heat.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA.-Rip Van Winkle; rive, pink, lawn.
EASY MELANGE.-r, Hearth, earth; 2, heath; 3, heart; 4, tare;
5, rate; 6, hart; 7, art; 8, heat; 9, ear; o7, tea; zn, hat; z2, rat;
13, tar.
EASY HIDDEN FISHES.-i. Skate. 2. Bass. 3. Eel. 4. Cod.
5. Barbel. 6. Shad. 7; Trout. 8. Herring. 9. Shark. o0. Smelt.

D
R
E A
E M A

D S

E I

T A A L

E

B A T
G
E "A

S P

E A R E
G T

H E A R T H T

DROP-LETTER STAIR PUZZLE.-Going upstairs: i, Leet; 2, teem:
3, rmeed; 4, deer; 5, reel; 6, leek; 7, keep. Going down-stairs;
i, peek; 2, keel; 3, leer; 4, reed; 5, deem; 6, meet; 7, teel.

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE SEPTEMBER NUMBER were received before September 18 from "The A's and A's," Emma McCall; Renny,
Harry, and John O'Hare; "Come on, Church;" S. Norris Knapp, Arabella Ward, William W. Bellinger, Bertie Jackson, Bertie Brecken-
feld; A. M. Ackerman, and De Witt C. Weld, Jr.; Edith Pnnce; Henricus, and his Cousin; Charles H. Stout, Hilda Sterling, "47
Cranberry Street," Dycie Warden, E. J. S., Willie Gray, X. Y. Z., Feramorz," "J.," Charles Mettenheimer, George K. French, Georgine
C. Schnitzspahn, Aggie McElhinney, Maggie McElhinney; M. O. Smith, "Ivanhoe," C. H. S., "Two Wills," Mamie A. Carter, Julia
Lathers, Amy and Nellie Slade, Grace and Abbie F. Brownell; C. A. W., Jr.; Lewis G. Davis, Josie Morris Brown, Alice Laregan, John
Pyne, Nellie Emerson, Effie K. Stockett, F. S., Marie and Beth, "Fritters," "Higgle," Mary Southwick, Southwick C. Briggs, Daisy
Briggs, Beech Nut," Two Nellies," B. B. of Barrytown," Nettle James, Esther M. Crawford, Osmer Abbott, Dick Harrison, Philip
Harrison, Thomas L. Wood, Anna Emma Mathewson; Willie B. Deas, and F. D.; Harry Folger, Florence Rogers, Florence L. Turrill,
Hope Rising Dobson, Carrie Speiden, Mary Flower Speiden, Amy Growley, Laurie T. Sanders, Hattie M. Fox, Sarah Gallett, Pearl A.
Means, W. E. W., Beishi, Alice Keller, Georgie B., Bessie Hard, Emma M. Kent, Rae Lemert, M- Laura," W. S. Reed; Caris-
simo, etc.;" Dycie Warden, Clarence M. Trowbridge; "Nancy Lee and Johnny Morgan;" Fanny Clark, Estelle Jennings, Geo. P.
Dravo; Lena and Winnie; Louise J. Hedge, Brutus and Cassius," H. B Ayers, Mary C. Warren, Edith Merriam, F. J. F., Bessie C,
Barney, Eddie W. D.; Lizzie and Kitie Leach, Mamie Todd, Edith Whiting, "Dolly," M. G. A. ; Geo. C. Wedderburnm Jr., and L. A.
W.; Margaret Gemmill, Edward Vultee, William H. McGee, and May Duffau.

[NOVEMBER.

	Front Cover
	A boy's service
	Who told?
	When the woods turn brown - Towed...
	A tale of two buckets
	A jolly fellowship
	Handsome Hans
	Cicada
	The dark day
	"The most thoroughly educated young...
	A mistake
	The poor relations
	Monkeys and dogs to the front
	Frank R. Stockton
	Half a dozen housekeepers
	The three wise men
	The look-out tree
	The magician's lesson
	Bessie Barton's large family
	Jack-in-the-pulpit
	The letter-box
	The riddle-box
	Back Cover
	Spine

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