Front Cover
 A story of a stone
 The shining little house
 Birthday rhymes - Modern improvements...
 Besieged by a rhinoceros
 About violins
 The sad story of the dandy cat
 The half-timer
 "Unnatural history" pictures
 Teddy's heroes
 The nest on wheels
 The origin of the jumping-jack
 Rumpty-Dudget's tower
 Little Nicholas; and how he became...
 Jottings versus doings
 A jolly fellowship
 La chanson de l'hiver: Winter song...
 New domino games
 Young contributors' department
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover


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mods:accessCondition type restrictions on use displayLabel Rights All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
mods:identifier NOTIS ocm0176
OCLC 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
(DLC) 2006255186; 55136171
mods:languageTerm text English
mods:physicalLocation Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in Special Collections, George A. Smathers Libraries
code UF
mods:name personal
mods:namePart Dodge, Mary Mapes
date 1830-1905
mods:roleTerm authority marcrelator Creator
mods:note Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
funding Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
mods:publisher Scribner,
mods:placeTerm New York
mods:dateIssued -c1943.
mods:recordIdentifier source ufdc UF00065513_00070
mods:recordContentSource University of Florida
mods:relatedItem original
mods:extent 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
mods:title St. Nicholas.
mods:detail Enum1
mods:caption Vol. 6
mods:number 6
No. 4
mods:topic Children's literature -- Periodicals.
Literature for Children
St. Nicholas, vol. 6, no. 4
Saint Nicholas
mods:typeOfResource text
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D4 A story a stone 3 Chapter
P4 233
P5 234
D5 The shining little house Poem
P6 235
D6 Eyebright 5
P7 236
P8 237
P9 238
P10 239
P11 240
P12 241
P13 242 7
P14 243 8
P15 244 9
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P18 247
D8 Besieged by rhinoceros
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P20 249
D9 About violins
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P23 252
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D10 sad the dandy cat
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P26 255
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P29 258
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D16 Rumpty-Dudget's tower 15
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P41 270
P42 271
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P44 273
D17 Little Nicholas; and how he became great musician 16
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D18 Heimdall 17
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D19 Jottings versus doings 18
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P50 279
P51 280
P52 281
P53 282
D20 jolly fellowship 19
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P57 286
P58 287
P59 288
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P61 290
P62 291
D21 La chanson de l'hiver: Winter song 20
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D22 New domino games 21
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D23 Counters 22
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St. Nicholas, vol. 6, no. 4
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00070
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas, vol. 6, no. 4
Series Title: St. Nicholas.
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: -c1943.
Subjects / Keywords: Literature for Children
Genre: Children's literature
serial   ( sobekcm )
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: notis - ocm0176
oclc - 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
oclc - (DLC) 2006255186; 55136171
System ID: UF00065513:00070

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    A story of a stone
        Page 233
        Page 234
    The shining little house
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
    Birthday rhymes - Modern improvements at the Peterkins'
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
    Besieged by a rhinoceros
        Page 248
        Page 249
    About violins
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
    The sad story of the dandy cat
        Page 254
        Page 255
    The half-timer
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
    "Unnatural history" pictures
        Page 260
    Teddy's heroes
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
    The nest on wheels
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
    The origin of the jumping-jack
        Page 267
        Page 268
    Rumpty-Dudget's tower
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
    Little Nicholas; and how he became a great musician
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
    Jottings versus doings
        Page 278
        Page 279
        Page 280
        Page 281
        Page 282
    A jolly fellowship
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
        Page 286
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 289
        Page 290
        Page 291
    La chanson de l'hiver: Winter song - Polly Hersey's pet
        Page 292
        Page 293
    New domino games
        Page 294
        Page 295
        Page 296
        Page 297
        Page 298
        Page 299
    Young contributors' department
        Page 300
    The letter-box
        Page 301
        Page 302
    The riddle-box
        Page 303
        Page 304
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text







[Copyright, 1879, by Scribner & Co.]



ONCE on a time, a great many years ago, so
many, many years that if your father should give
you a dollar for every year- you could buy up the
whole town you live in and have enough left to pay
the National Debt; in those old days when the
great North-west consisted only of a few hills,
ragged and barren, and full of copper and quartz;
in the days when the Northern Ocean washed the
crest of Mount Washington and wrote its name
upon the Pictured Rocks, and the tide of the Pacific
swept over Plymouth Rock and surged up against
Bunker Hill; when the Gulf of Mexico rolled its
warm and shallow waters as far north as Escanaba
and Eau Claire; in fact, an immensely long time ago,
-there lived somewhere in Oconto County, Wiscon-
sin, a little jelly-fish. It was a curious creature,
about the shape of half an apple, and the size of a
cat's-thimble, and it floated around in.the water
and ate little things and opened and .shut its
umbrella, pretty much as jelly-fishes do in the
ocean now.
It had a great many little feelers that hung down
all around like so many mites of snakes, and so it
was named Medusa, after that ladyin the old times
who wore snakes instead of hair, and who felt so
badly because she could n't do them up. Well,
our little Medusa floated around and opened and
shut her umbrella for a long time,-a month, or a
year, perhaps,--we don't know how long. Then,
one morning, down among the sea-weeds, she laid
a whole lot of tiny eggs, transparent as crab-apple
jelly and much smaller than a dew-drop on the end
of a pine-leaf. Now she leaves the scene, and our
story henceforth concerns only one of these eggs.
Well, one day, the sun shone down into the
VOL. VI.-17.

water,-the same sun that shines through your win-
dows now,-and a little fellow whom we will call
Favosites, because that was his name, woke up inside
of the egg and came out into the great world. He
was only a wee bit of floating jelly, shaped like a
cartridge pointed at both ends. He had at his
sides an immense number of little paddles that
went flapping, flapping all the time, keeping him
constantly in motion, whether thelittle fellow wanted
to go or not. So he kept scudding along in the
water, dodging from right to left, to avoid the
ungainly creatures that wanted to eat him. There
were crabs and clams, of a fashion that neither you
nor I will ever see alive. There were huge animals
with great eyes, savage jaws and long feelers, that
sat in the end of a long, round shell and glowered
at him, and smaller ones of the same kind that
looked like lobsters in a dinner-horn.
- But none of these got the little fellow, else I
should not have any story to tell.
At last, having paddled about long enough, he
thought of settling in life. So he looked around
until he found a flat bit of shell that just suited
him, when he sat down upon it, and grew fast, like
old Holger Danske in the Danish myth. Only,
unlike Holger, he did n't go to sleep, but proceeded
to make himself at home. So he made an opening
in his upper side, and rigged for himself a mouth
and a stomach, and put a whole row of feelers out,
and began catching little worms and floating eggs
and bits of jelly and bits of lime,-everything he
could get,-and cramming them into his little
He had a great many curious ways, but the fun-
niest of all was what he did with the bits of lime.


No. 4.


He kept taking them in and tried to wall himself
up inside with them, as a person would stone a well,
or as though a man should swallow pebbles and
stow them away in his feet and all around under
the skin, till he had filled himself full.
But little Favosites became lonesome all alone
on the bottom of that old ocean, among so many
outlandish neighbors; and so, one night, when he
was fast asleep, and dreaming as only a coral animal
can dream, there sprouted out of his side, where
.his sixth rib would have been if he had had so
many, another little Favosites, who very soon
began to eat worms and to wall himself up as if for
dear life. Then, from these two another and
another little bud came out, and another and
another little Favosites was formed, and they all
kept growing up higher and higher, and cramming
themselves fuller and fuller of limestone, till at last
there were so many of them, and they were so
crowded together, that there was n't room for them
to grow round; so they had to grow six-sided, like
the cells in a honeycomb.
Once in a while, some one in the company would
get mad because the others got all of the lime, or
would feel uneasy at sitting still so long and swal-
lowing stones, and would secede from the little
union, without as much as saying "Good-bye,"
and would sail around like the old Medusa, and
would lay more eggs, which would hatch out into
more Favosites.
Well, the old ones died or swam away or were
walled up, and new ones filled their places, and the
colony thrived for a long time, and had accumu-
lated quite a stock of lime. But, one day, there
came a freshet in the Menomonee River, and piles
of dirt and sand and ground-up iron ore were
brought down, and all the little Favosites' mouths
were filled with it. They did n't like the taste of
iron, so they all died; but we know that their
house was not spoiled, for we have it here.
So the rock-house they were making was tumbled
about in the dirt, and the rolling pebbles knocked
the corners off, and the mud worked its way into
the cracks and destroyed its beautiful whiteness.
There it lay for ages, till the earth gave a great,
long heave, that raised Wisconsin out of the ocean,
and the mud around our Favosites' house packed
and dried into hard rock and closed it in; and so
it became part of the dry land. There it lay,
imbedded in the rock for centuries and centuries.
Then, the time of the first fishes came, and the
other animals looked on them in awe and wonder,
as the Indians eyed Columbus. They were like the
gar-pike in our Western rivers, only much larger,-
as big as a stove-pipe, and with a crust as hard as
a turtle's shell. Then there came sharks, of strange
forms, savage and ferocious, with teeth like bowie-

knives. But the time of the old fishes came and
went, and many more times came and went, but
still Favosites lay in the ground.
.Then came the long, hot, wet summer, when
the mists hung over the earth so thick' that you
might almost have cut them into chunks with a
knife, like a loaf of gingerbread; and great ferns
and rushes, big as an oak and tall as a steeple,
grew over the land. Huge reptiles with jaws like
a front door, and teeth like cross-cut saws, and little
reptiles, with wings like bats, crawled and swam
and flew.
But the ferns died, and the reptiles died, and
the rush-trees fell into the swamps, and the Missis-
sippi, now become quite a river, covered them up,
and they were packed away under great layers of
clay and sand, till at last they were turned into
coal, and wept bitter tears of petroleum. But all
this while Favosites lay in the rock at Oconto.
Then the mists cleared up and the sun shone and
the grass began to grow, and strange animals
began to come and feed upon it. There were funny
little zebra horses, no bigger than a Newfoundland
dog, and great hairy elephants, and hogs with noses
so long that they could sit on their hind legs and
root, and lots of still stranger creatures that no man
ever saw alive. But still Favosites lay in the
So the long, long summer passed by, and the
autumn, and the Indian summer; and at last the
great winter came, and it snowed and snowed, and it
was so cold that the snow was n't off by the Fourth
of July; and then it snowed and snowed till the
snow never went off at all; and then it got so cold
that it snowed all the time, till the snow covered all
the animals, and then the trees, and then the
mountains. Then it would thaw a little, and
streams of water would run over the snow; then it
would freeze again, and pack it into solid ice. Still
it went on snowing and thawing and freezing, till
the ice was a mile deep over Wisconsin, and the
whole United States was one great skating-rink.
So it kept on for about a million years, until once
when the spring came and the south winds blew,
it began to thaw up. Then the ice came sliding
down from the mountains and hills, tearing up
rocks little and big, from the size of a chip to the
size of a meeting-house, crushing forests as you
would crush an egg-shell, and wiping out rivers as
you would wipe out a chalk-mark. So it came push-
ing, thundering, grinding along, slowly enough, but
with tremendous force, this mile-deep glacier, like
an immense plow drawn by a million oxen.
So the ice plowed across Oconto County, and little
Favosites was rooted out from the quiet place where
he had lain so long; but, by good fortune, he hap-
pened to slip into a crevice in the ice, where he



was n't much crowded, else he would have been
ground to powder, as most of his relatives were, and
I should n't have had this story to tell.
Well, the ice slid along, melting all the while, and
making great torrents of water which, as they
swept onward, covered the land with clay and peb-
bles, till at last it came to a great swamp, over-
grown with tamarac and cedar. Here it stopped
and melted, and all the rocks and stones and dirt

it had carried with it, little Favosites and all, were
dumped into one great heap.

Ages after, a farmer in Grand Chfte, Michigan,
plowing up his clover field, to sow for winter
wheat, picked up a curious bit of petrified honey-
comb," and gave it to the school-boys to take to
their teacher, to hear what he would say about it.
And now you have read what he said.


BY H. H.

IT hung in the sun, the little house,
It hung in the sun, and shone;
And through the walls I could hear his voice
Who had it all for his own.

The walls were of wire, as bright as gold,
Wrought in a pretty design;
The spaces between for windows served,
And the floor was clean and fine.

There was plenty, too, to eat and i.:lhi:. ,,,.
In this little house that shone;
A lucky thing, to be sure, you'd __-_t
A house like this for one's
own! '

But the door was shut, and
locked all tight,
The key was on the outside; .
The one who was in could not
get out,
No matter how much he tried.

'T was only a prison after all,
This bright little house that shone;
Ah, we would not want a house like that,
No matter if 't were our own!

And yet, through the walls I heard the voice,
Of the one who lived inside:
To warble a sweeter song each day,
It did seem as if he tried.

To open the door, he never sought,
Nor fluttered in idle strife;
He ate, and he drank, and slept, and sang,
And made the best of his life.

,,, ..:, i, to myself, said every day,
As his cheery song I heard,
----" There 's a lesson for us in
Severe note
Of that little prisoned bird.

We all of us live a life like
We are walled on every side;
We all long to do a hundred
Which we could not if we

We can spend our strength all foolishly
In a discontented strife;
Or we can be wise, and laugh and sing,
And make the best of our life.








IT wanted but five minutes to twelve in Miss
Fitch's school-room, and a general restlessness
showed that her scholars were aware of the fact.
Some of the girls had closed their books, and were
putting their desks to rights, with a good deal of
unnecessary fuss, keeping an eye on the clock
meanwhile. The boys wore the air of dogs who
see their master coming to untie them; they jumped
and quivered, making the benches squeak and rattle,
and shifted their feet about on the uncarpeted floor,
producing sounds of the kind most trying to a
nervous teacher. A general expectation prevailed.
Luckily, Miss Fitch was not nervous. She had
that best of all gifts for teaching,-calmness; and

she understood her pupils and their ways-nd had
sympathy with them. She knew how hard it is
for feet with the dance of youth in them to keep
still for three long hours on a June morning; and
there was a pleasant, roguish look in her face as
she laid her hand on the bell, and, meeting the
twenty-two pairs of expectant eyes which were fixed
on hers, rang it-dear Miss Fitch-actually a minute
and a half before the time.
At the first tinkle, like arrows dismissed from the
bow-string, two girls belonging to the older class
jumped from their seats and flew, ahead of all the
rest, into the entry, where hung the hats and caps
of the school, and their dinner-baskets. One seized
a pink sun-bonnet from its nail, the other a Shaker-
scoop with a deep green cape; each possessed her-
self of a small tin pail, and just as the little crowd





swarmed into the passage, they hurried out on the
green, in the middle of which the school-house
stood. It was a very small green, shaped like a
triangle, with half a dozen trees growing upon it;
"Little things are great to little men,"
you know, and to Miss Fitch's little men and women
"the green" had all the importance and excitement
of a park. Each one of the trees which stood upon
it had a name of its own. Every crotch and branch
in them was known to the boys and the most daring
among the girls ; each had been the scene of games
and adventures without number. "The Castle,"
a low spreading oak with wide, horizontal branches,
had been the favorite tree for fights. Half the
boys would garrison the boughs, the other half,
scrambling from below and clutching and tugging,
would take the part of besiegers, and it had been
great fun all round. But alas, for that had
been !" Ever since one unlucky day, when Luther
Bradley, as King Charles, had been captured five
boughs up by Cromwell and his soldiers, and his
ankle badly sprained in the process, Miss Fitch had
ruled that The Castle should be used for fight-
ing purposes no longer. The boys might climb it,
but they must not call themselves a garrison, nor
pull nor struggle with each other. So the poor oak
was shorn of its military glories, and forced to com-
fort itself by bearing a larger crop of acorns than
had been possible during the stirring and warlike
times, now forever ended.
Then there was The Dove-cote," an easily
climbed beech, on which rows of girls might be
seen at noon-times roosting like fowls in the sun.
And there was The Falcon's Nest," which pro-
duced every year a few small, sour apples, and
which Isabella Bright had adopted for her tree.
She knew every inch of the way to the top; to
climb it was like going up a well-known staircase,
and the sensation of sitting there aloft, high in air,
on a bough which curved and swung, with another
bough exactly fitting her back to lean against, was
full of delight and fascination. It was like moving
and being at rest all at once; like flying, like
escape. The wind seemed to smell differently and
more sweetly up there than in lower places. Two
or three times lost in fancies as deep as sleep, Isa-
bella had forgotten all about recess and bell, and
remained on her perch, swinging and dreaming,
till some one was sent to tell her that the arithmetic
class had begun. And once, direful day marked
with everlasting black in the calendar of her con-
science, being possessed suddenly, as it were, by
some idle and tricksy demon, she stayed on after she
was called, and called again, she still stayed ; and
when, at last, Miss Fitch herself came out and
stood beneath the tree, and in her pleasant, mild

voice told her to come down, still the naughty girl,
secure in her fastness, stayed. And when, at last,
Miss Fitch, growing angry, spoke severely and
ordered her to descend, Isabella shook the boughs,
and sent a shower of hard little apples down on her
kind teacher's head. That was dreadful, indeed,
and dreadfully did she repent it afterward, for she
loved Miss Fitch dearly, and, except for being
under the influence of the demon, could never have
treated her so. Miss Fitch did not kiss her for
a whole month afterward,-that was Isabella's
punishment,-and it was many months before
she could speak of the affair without feeling her
eyes fill swiftly with tears, for Isabella's conscience
was tender and her feelings very quick in those
This, however, was eighteen months ago, when
she was only ten and a half. She was nearly twelve
now, and a good deal taller and wiser. I have
introduced her as Isabella, because that was her
real name, but the children and everybody always
called her Eyebright. "I. Bright" it had been writ-
ten in the report of her first week at Miss Fitch's
school, when she was a little thing not more than six
years old. The droll name struck someone's fancy,
and from that day she was always called Eyebright
because of that, and because her eyes were bright.
They were gray eyes, large and clear, set in a wide,
low forehead, from which a thick mop of hazel-
brown hair with a wavy kink all through it, was


her mouth was rather wide, but it was a smiling,
good-tempered mouth; the cheeks were pink and
wholesome, analtogether, though not particularly

in the eyes of the people who loved her, and they
were a good many.
The companion with whom she was walking was
Bessie Mather, her most intimate friend just then.
Bessie was the daughter of a portrait-painter, who




did n't have many portraits to paint, so he was apt
to be discouraged, and his family to feel rather
poor. Eyebright was not old enough to perceive
the inconveniences of being poor. To her there
was a great charm in all that goes to the making
of pictures. She loved the shining paint-tubes,
the palette set with its ring of many-colored dots,
and even the white canvases; the smell of oil was
pleasant to her, and she often wished that her
father, too, had been a painter. When, as once in
a great while happened, Bessie asked her to tea,
she went with a sort of awe over her mind, and
returned in a rapture, to tell her mother that they
had had biscuits and apple-sauce for supper, and
had n't done anything in particular; but she
had enjoyed it so much, and it had been so inter-
esting! Mrs. Bright never could understand why
biscuits and apple-sauce, which never created any
enthusiasm in Eyebright at home, should be so
delightful at Bessie Mather's, neither could Eye-
bright explain it, but so it was. This portrait-
painting father was one of Bessie's chief attractions
in Eyebright's eyes, but apart from that, she was
sweet-tempered, pliable, and affectionate, and-a
strong bond in friendship sometimes-she liked
to follow and Eyebright to lead; she preferred to
listen and Eyebright to talk; so they suited each
other exactly. Bessie's hair was dark; she was
not quite so tall as Eyebright; but their heights
matched very well, as, with arms round each other's
waist, they paced up and down the green,"
stopping now and then to take a cookie, or a bit
of bread-and-butter, from the dinner-pails which
they had set under one of the trees.
Not the least attention did they pay to the rest
of the scholars, but Eyebright began at once, as if
reading from some book which had been laid aside
only a moment before:
"At that moment Lady Jane heard a tap at the
See who it is, Margaret,' she said.
"Margaret opened the door, and there stood
before her astonished eyes a knight clad in shining
Who are you, Sir Knight, and wherefore do
you come ?' she cried, in amaze.
I am come to see the Lady Jane Gray,' he
replied; 'I have a message for her from Lord
Guildford Dudley.'
"'From my noble Guildford,' shrieked Lady
Jane, rushing forward.
'Even so, madam,' replied the knight, bowing
Here Eyebright paused for a large bite of bread
and butter.
Go on-please go on," pleaded Bessie, whose
mouth happened to be empty just then.

Mumble, mumble,-" the Lady Jane sank back
on her couch"-resumedEyebright, speaking rather
thickly by reason of the bread and butter. She
was very pale, and one tear ran slowly down her
pearly cheek.
What says my lord?' she faintly uttered.
"' He bids me to tell you to hope on, hope ever,'
cried the knight; 'the jailor's daughter has prom-
ised to steal her father's keys to-night, unbar his
door, and let him escape.'
'Can this be true ?' cried Margaret-that 's
you, you know, Bessie-be ready to catch me.
' Help my lady is about to faint with joy.'"
Here Eyebright sank on the grass, while Bessie
made a dash, and raised her head.
'Is it ? Can it be-true ?' murmured the Lady
Jane,"-her languid hand meanwhile stealing into
the dinner-pail, and producing therefrom a big
red apple.
'It is true-the blessed news is indeed true,'
cried the true-hearted Margaret.
'I feel new life in my veins;' and the Lady
Jane sprang to her feet." Here Eyebright scram-
bled to hers.
'Come, Margaret,' she cried, 'we must decide
in what garb we shall greet my dearest lord when
he comes from prison. Don't you think the
cram-cram-cramberry velvet, with a net-work of
pearls, and,'-what else did they wear, Bessie ?"
Girdles ?" ventured Bessie.
"'And a girdle of gems,'" went on Eyebright,
easily, and quite regardless of expense. Don't
you think that will be best, girl? "
"Oh, Eyebright, would she say girl?'" ,broke
in Bessie; it does n't sound polite enough for the
Lady Jane."
They all do,-I assure you they do. I can
show you the place in Shakspeare. It don't sounri
so nice, because when people say girl,' now, it
always means servant-girl, you know; but it was
different then; and Lady Jane did say 'my girl.'
And you must n't interrupt so, Bessie, or we
sha'n't get to the execution this recess, and after
school I want to play the Little Princes in the
I wont interrupt any more," said Bessie; go
"'Yes, the cramberry velvet is my choice,'"
resumed Eyebright. 'Sir Knight, accept my
grateful thanks.'
"He bent low and kissed her fair hand.
"' May naught but good tidings await you ever-
more!' he murmured. 'Sorrow should never light
on so fair a being.'
'Ah,' she said, 'sorrow seems my portion.
What is rank or riches or ducality to a happy
heart ? '"




"What did you say? What was that word,
Eyebright ?"
Ducality. Lady Jane's father was a duke, you
"The knight sighed deeply, and withdrew.
"'Ah, Guildford,' murmured the Lady Jane,
laying her head on the shoulder of her beloved
Margaret, shall I indeed see you once more? It
seems too good to be true.' "
Eyebright paused, and bit into her apple with an
absorbed expression. She was meditating the next
scene in her romance.
So the next day and the next went by, and still
the Lady Jane prayed and waited. Night came at
last, and now Lord Guildford might appear at any
moment. Margaret dressed her lovely mistress in
the velvet robe, twined the pearls in her golden
hair, and clasped the jeweled girdle round her
slender waist. One snow-white rose was pinned in
her bosom. Never had she looked so wildly beau-
tiful. But still Lord Guildford came not. At last
a tap at the door was heard.
It is he !' cried the Lady Jane, and flew to
meet him.
But alas! it was not he. A stern and gigantic
form filled the door-way, and entering, looked at
her with fiery eyes. No, his helmet was shut tight.
Would n't that be better, Bessie ?"
Oh yes, much better. Do have it shut," said
the obliging Bessie.
His lineaments were hidden by his helmet,"
resumed Eyebright, correcting herself; "but there
was something in his aspect which made her heart
thrill with terror.
'You are looking to see if I am one who will
never cross your path again,' he said, in a harsh
tone. Lady Jane Gray-no I Guildford Dudley
has this day expiated his crimes on Tower Hill. His
headless trunk is already buried beneath the pave-
ment where traitors lie.'
"'Oh no, no; in mercy unsay the word!'
shrieked the Lady Jane, and with one quick sob
she sank lifeless to the earth, while Margaret sank
beside her. We wont really sink, I think, Bessie,
because the grass stains our clothes so, and they
get so mussed up. Wealthy says she can't imagine
what I do to my things ; there was so much grass-
green in them that it greened all the water in the
tub last wash, she told mother; that was when we
played the Coramantic Captive, you know, and I
had to keep fainting all the time. We'll just
make-believe we sank, I guess.
'Rouse yourself, Lady,' went on the stern war-
rior, I have more to communicate. You are my
prisoner. Here is the warrant to arrest you, and
the soldiers wait outside.'
One dizzy moment, and Lady Jane rallied the

spirit of her race. Her face was deadly pale, but
she had never looked more lovely.
'I am ready,' she said, with calm dignity;
'only give me time to breathe one prayer,' and,
sinking at the foot of her crucifix, she breathed an
Ave Maria in such melodious tones that all present
refrained from tears.
'Lead on,' she murmured.
"We now pass to the scene of execution," pro-
ceeded Eyebright, whose greatest gift as a story-
teller was her power of getting over difficult parts
of the narrative in a sort of inspired, rapid way.
"I guess we wont have any trial, Bessie, because
trials are so hard, and I don't know exactly how to
do them. It was a chill morning in early spring.
The sun had hid his face from the awful spectacle.
The bell was tolling, the crowd assembled, and the
executioner stood leaning on the handle of his
dreadful ax. The block was ready "
Oh, Eyebright, it is awful!" interposed Bessie,
on the point of tears.
At last the door of the Tower opened," went on
the relentless Eyebright, and the slender form of
the Lady Jane appeared, led by the captain of the
guard, and followed by a long procession of monks
and soldiers. Her faithful Margaret was by her
side, drowned in tears. She was so young, so fair
and so sweet that all hearts pitied her, and when
she turned to the priest and said, Fa-ther, do not
we-ep' --"
Eyebright here broke down and began to cry.
As for Bessie, she had been sobbing hard, with
her handkerchief over her eyes for nearly two
I am go-ing to hea-ven,'" faltered Eyebright,
overcome with emotion. 'Thank my cousin,
Bloody Mary, for sending me th-ere.' "
Can you tell me the way to Mr. Bright's house?"
said a voice just behind them.
The girls jumped and look round. In the excite-
ment of the execution, they had wandered, without
knowing it, to the far edge of the green, which
bordered on the public road. A gentleman on
horseback had stopped close beside them, and was
looking at them with an amused expression, which
changed'to one of pity, as the two tear-stained faces
met his eye.
Is anything the matter ? Are you in any trou-
ble ? he asked, anxiously.
Oh no, sir; not a bit. We are only playing;
we are having a splendid time," explained Eye-
And then, anxious to change the subject, and
also to get back to Lady Jane and her woes, she
made haste with the direction for which the stranger
had asked.
Just down there, sir; turn the first street, and




it's the fourth house from the corner. No, the
fifth,-which is it, Bessie ?"
Let me see," replied Bessie, counting on her
fingers. "Mrs. Clapp's, Mr. Potter's, Mr. Wheel-
wright's,-it's the fourth, Eyebright."
The gentleman thanked them and rode away.
As he did so, the bell tinkled at the school-house
Oh, there's that old bell. I don't believe it's
time one bit. Miss Fitch must have set the clock
forward," declared Eyebright.
Alas, no; Miss Fitch had done nothing of the
sort, for at that moment clang went the town-clock,
which, as every one knew, kept the best of time,
and by which all the clocks and watches in the
neighborhood were set.
"Pshaw, it really is !" cried Eyebright. "How
short recess seems Not longer than a minute."
"Not more than half a minute," .chimed in
Bessie. "Oh, Eyebright, it was-too lovely I hate
to go in."
The cheeks and eyelids of the almost executed
Lady Jane and her bower maiden were in a sad
state of redness when they entered the school-room,
but nobody took any particular notice of them.
Miss Fitch was used .to such appearances, and so
were the other boys and girls, when Eyebright and
Bessie Mather had spent their recess, as almost
always they did, in playing the game which they
called acting stories."


FOUR o'clock seemed slow in coming; but it
struck at last, as hours always will if we wait long
enough; and Miss Fitch dismissed the school, after
a little bit of Bible-reading and a short prayer.
People nowadays are trying to do away with Bibles.
and prayers in schools, but I think the few words
which Miss Fitch said in the Lord's ear every
night-and they were very few and simple-sent
the little ones away with a sense of the Father's
love and nearness, which it was good for them to
feel. All the girls and some of the boys waited
to kiss Miss Fitch for good-night. It had been a
pleasant day. Nobody, for a wonder, had received
afault-mark of any kind; nothing had gone wrong,
an'd the children departed, with a general bright
sense that such days do not often come, and that
what remained of this ought to be made the most of.
There were still three hours and a half of pre-
cious daylight. What should be done with them ?
Eyebright and a knot of girls, whose homes lay
in the same direction with hers, walked slowly
down the street together. It was a beautiful after-
noon, with sunshine of that delicious sort which

only June knows how to brew,-warm, but not
burning; bright, but not dazzling. It lay over the
walk in broad golden patches, broken by soft,
purple-blue shadows from the elms, which had just
put out their light leaves and looked like fountains
of green spray tossed high in air. iThere was a
sweet smell of hyacinths and growing grass and
cherry-blossoms, and altogether it was not an after-
noon to spend in the house, and the children felt
the fact.
"I don't want to go home yet," said Molly
Prime. Let's do something pleasant all together
I wish my swing was ready, and we'd all have
a swing in it," said Laura Wheelwright. "Tom said
he would put it up to-day, but mother begged him
not, because she said I had a cold and would be
sure to run in the damp grass and wet my feet.
What shall we do? We might go for a walk to
Round Pond; will you ?"
"No; I'll tell you," burst in Eyebright. "Don't
let's do that, because if we do, the big boys will
see us and want to come too, and then we sha' n't
have any fun. Let's all go into our barn; there's
lots of hay up in the loft, and we '11 open the big
window and make thrones of hay to sit on and tell
stories. It'll be just as good as out-doors, and no
one will know where we are or come to interrupt
us. Don't you think it would be nice? Do comer
"Delicious Come albng, girls," answered
Laura, crumpling her soft sun-bonnet into a heap,
and throwing it up into the air, as if it had been a
Oh, may we come too?" pleaded little Tom
and Rosy Bury.
No, you can't," answered their sister, Kitty,
sharply. You 'd be tumbling down and getting
frightened, and all sorts of things. You 'd better
run right home by yourselves."
.The little ones were silent, but they looked
anxiously at Eyebright.
"I think they might come, Kitty," she said.
"They're almost always good, and there 's nothing
in the loft to hurt them. Yes; they can come."
Oh, very well, if you want the bother of them.
I 'm sure I don't mind," replied Kitty.
Then they all ran into the barn. The eight
pairs of double-soled boots clattered on the stairs
like a sudden hail-storm on a roof. Brindle and
old Charley, and a strange horse who seemed to
be visiting them, all three munching their even-
ing hay, raised their heads, astonished, while a
furtive rustle from some dim corner in the loft
showed that Mrs. Top-knot or Mrs. Cochin-China,
hidden away there, heard too, and did not like the
sound at all.



EYE B RI G I-IT. 241

"Oh, is n't this lovely !" cried Kitty Bury,
kicking the fine hay before her till it rose in clouds.
" Barns are so nice, I think."
Yes, but don't kick that way," said Romaine
Smith, choking and sneezing. Oh dear, I shall
smother. Eyebright, please open the window.
Quick, I am strangling."

grasses; it was as good as being out-doors, as Eye-
bright had said.
The girls pulled little heaps of hay together for
seats, and ranged themselves in a half-circle round
the window, with Mr. Bright's orchard, pink and
white with fruit blossoms, underneath them; and
beyond that, between Mr. Bury's house and barn, a


Eyebright, who was sneezing too, made haste
to undo the rusty hook, and swing the big wooden
shutter back against the outside wall of the barn.
It made an enormous square opening, which seemed
to let in all out-doors at once. Dark places grew
light, the soft pure air, glad of the chance, flew in
to mix with the sweet heavy smell of the dried

glimpse of valley and blue river, and the long range
of wooded hills on the opposite bank. It was a
charming look-out, and though the children could
not have put into words what pleased them, they all
liked it, and were the happier for its being there.
"Now we're ready. Who will tell the first
story?" asked Molly Prime, briskly.




I will," cried Eyebright, always ready to take
the lead. It's a true story, too, every bit of it.
My grandma knew the lady it happened to. It was
ever and ever so long ago, when the country was
all over woods and Indians, you know, and this
lady went to the West to live with her husband. He
was a pio-nary,-no, pioneer,-no, missionary,-
that was what he was. Missionaries teach poor
people and preach, and this one was awfully poor
himself, for all the money he had was just a little
bit which a church at the East gave him.
Well, after they had lived at the West for a year,
the missionary had to come back, because some of
the people said he was n't orthodox. I don't
know what that means. I asked father once,
and he said it meant so many things that he
did n't think he could explain them all; but
Wealthy, she said, it means agreeing with the
neighbors.' Anyhow, the missionary had to come
back to tell the folks that he was orthodox, and his
wife and children had to stay behind, in the
woods, with wolves and bears and Indians close,
The very day after he started, his wife was sitting
by the fire with her baby in her lap, when the door
opened, and a great, enormous Indian walked in
and straight up to her.
"I guess she was frightened; don't you ?
S'He gone?' asked the Indian in broken En-
Yes,' she said.
Then the Indian held out his hands and said:
"' Pappoose. Give.'"
"Oh my!" cried Molly Prime. "I'd have
screamed right out."
"Well, the lady did n't," continued Eyebright;
"what was the use ? There was n't any one to
scream to, you know. Beside, she thought perhaps
the Indian was trying her to see if she trusted him.
So she let him take the child, and he marched
away with it, not saying another word.
"All that night, and all next day, she watched and
waited, but he did not come back. She began to
think all sorts of dreadful things,-that perhaps he
had killed the child. But just at sunset he came
with the baby in his arms, and the little fellow was
dressed like a chief, in a suit of doe-skins which the
squaws had made, with cunning little moccasins on
his feet and a feather stuck in his hair. The Indian
put him in his mother's lap, and said:
'Now red man know white squaw friend, for
she not afraid give child.'
"And after that, all the time her husband was
gone, the Indians brought venison and game, and
were real kind to the lady. Was n't it nice?"
SThe children drew long breaths of relief.
I don't think I could," declared Molly Prime.

Now I'll tell you a story which I made up
myself," said Romaine, who was of a sentimental
turn. It's called the Lady and the Barberry
Once upon a time long, long ago, there was a
lady who loved a barberry bush, because its berries
were so pretty, and tasted so nice and sour. She
used to water it, and come at evening to lay her
snow-white hand upon its leaves."'
Did n't they prick?" inquired Molly, who was
as practical as Romaine was sentimental.
"No, of course they did n't prick, because the
barberry bush was enchanted, you know. Nobody
else cared for barberry bushes except the lady.
All the rest liked roses and honeysuckles best, and
the poor barberry was very glad when it saw the
lady coming. At last one night, when she was
watering it, it spoke, and it said: 'The I':.. of
deliverance has arrived. Lady, behold in me a
Prince and your lover,' and it changed into a beau-
tiful knight with barberries in his helmet, and knelt
at her feet, and they were very happy forever
Oh, how short !" complained the rest. Eye-
bright's was a great deal longer."
Yes, but some one told hers to her, you know.
I made mine up, all myself."
I'll tell you a 'tory now," broke in little Posy.
"It's a nice 'tory,-a real nice one. Once there
was a little girl, and she wanted some pie. She
wanted some weal which pie. And her mother
whipped her because she wanted the weal which pie.
Then she kied. And her mother whipped her.
Then she kied again. And her mother whipped
her again. And the which pie made her sick. And
she'died. She could n't det well, 'cause the dottor
he did n't come. He could n't come. There was n't
any dottor. He was eated up by tigers Is n't
that a nice 'tory ?"
The girls laughed so hard over Posy's story that,
much bashed, she hid her face in Kitty's lap, and
would n't raise it for a long time. Eyebright tried
to comfort her.
It's a real nice story," she said. The nicest
of all. I'm so glad you came, Posy, else you
would n't have told it to us."
Did you hear me tell how the doctor was eated
up by tigers? asked Posy, peeping with one eye
from out of the protection of Kitty's apron.
Yes, indeed. That was splendid."
"I made that up!" said Posy, triumphantly
revealing her whole face, joyful again, and bright
as a full moon.
Who 'll be next ?" asked Eyebright.
I will," said Laura. "Listen now, for it's
going to be perfectly awful, I can tell you. It's
about robbers."


As she spoke these words, Laura lowered her
voice, with a sort of half-frown, half-whisper.
There was once a girl who lived all alone by
herself, with just one Newfoundland dog for com-
pany. He was n't a big Newfoundland,-he was
pretty small. One night, when it was all dark and
she was just going to sleep, she heard a rustle
underneath her bed."
The children had drawn closer together since
Laura began, and at this point Romaine gave a
loud shriek.
What was that? she asked.
All held their breaths. The loft was getting a
little dusky now, and sure enough, an unmistaka-
ble rustle was heard among the hay in a distant
S" This loft would be a very bad place for a rob-
ber," said Eyebright, in a voice which trembled
very much, though she tried to keep it steady.
" A robber would n't have much chance with all our
men down below. James, you know, girls, and
Samuel and John."
"Yes,-and Benjamin and Charles," chimed in
the quick-witted Molly; "and your father, Eye-
bright, and Henry,-all down there in the barn."
While they recited this formidable list, the
little geese were staring with wide-open affrighted
eyes into the corner where the rustle had been
And,-" continued Eyebright, her voice trem-
bling more than ever, they have all got pitch-
forks, you know, and guns, and-oh, mercy! what
was that? The hay moved, girls, it did move, I
saw it! "
All scrambled to their feet prepared to fly, but
before any one could start, the hay in the corner
parted, and, cackling and screaming, out flew Mrs.
Top-knot, tired of her hidden nest, or of the story-
telling, and resolved on escape. Eyebright ran
after, and shoo-ed her down-stairs. Then she
came back laughing, and said:
How silly we were Go on, Laura."
But the nerves of the party were too shaky still
to enjoy robber-stories, and Eyebright perceiving
this, made a diversion.
"I know what we all want," she said; some
apples. Stay here all of you, and I'll run in and
get them. I wont be but a minute."
Mayn't I come too ? asked the inseparable
"Yes, do, and you can help me carry 'em.
Don't tell any stories while we 're gone, girls.
Come along, Bess."
Wealthy happened to be in the buttery, skim-
ming cream, so no one spied them as they ran
through the kitchen and down the cellar stairs.
The cellar was a very large one. Fi fact, there were

half a dozen cellars opening one into the other,
like the rooms of a house. Wood and coal were
kept in some of them, in others vegetables, and
there was a swinging shelf where stood Wealthy's
cold meat, and odds and ends of food. All the
cellars were dark at this hour of the afternoon,
very dark, and Bessie held Eyebright's hand tight,
as with the ease of one who knew the way per-
fectly, she sped toward the apple-room.
In the blackest corner of all, Eyebright paused,
fumbled a little on an almost invisible shelf with a
jar which had a lid and clattered, and then handed
to her friend a dark something whose smell and
taste showed it to be a pickled butternut.
"Wealthy keeps her pickles here," she said,
" and she lets me take one now and then, because
I helped to pick the butternuts when she made
'em. I got my fingers awfully stained too. It
did n't come off for almost a month. Are n't they
Perfectly splendid! replied Bessie, as her teeth
met in the spicy acid oval. I do think butternut
pickles are just too lovely !"
SThe apple-room had a small window in it, so it
was not so dark as the other cellars. Eyebright
went straight to a particular barrel.
These are the best ones that are left," she said.
They are those spotty russets which you said you
liked, Bessie. Now, you take four and I'll take
four. That 'll make just one apiece for each of
"How horrid it would be," said Bessie, as the
two went upstairs again with the apples in their
aprons,-"how horrid it would be if a hand should
suddenly come through the steps and catch hold
of our ankles."
Good gracious, Bessie Mather!" cried Eye-
bright, whose vivid imagination represented to her
at once precisely how the hand on her ankle would
feel, "I wish you wouldn't say such things,-at
least till we're safely up," she added.
Another moment, and they were safely up and
in the kitchen. Alas, Wealthy caught sight of
"Eyebright," she called after them, "tea will
be ready in ten minutes. Come in and have your
hair brushed and your face washed."
Why, Wealthy Judson, what an idea It's
only twenty minutes past five."
There 's a gentleman to tea to-night, and your
pa wants it early, so's he can get off by six,"
replied Wealthy. I'm just wetting the tea now.
Don't argue, Eyebright, but come at once."
I've got to go out to the barn for one minute,
anyhow," cried Eyebright, impatiently, and she
and Bessie flashed out of the door and across the
yard before Wealthy could say another word.


"It's too bad," she said, rushing upstairs into
the loft and beginning to distribute the apples.
"That old tea of ours is early to-night, and
Wealthy says I must come in. I'm so sorry now
that I went for the apples at all, because if I had n't,
I should n't have known that tea was early, and
then I need n't have gone We were having such
a nice time Can't you all stay till I 've done tea ?
I '11 hurry."
But the loft, with its rustles and dark corners,
was not to be thought of for a moment without
Eyebright's presence and protection.

"Oh no, we couldn't possibly; we must go
home," the children said, and down the stairs they
all rushed.
Brindle and old Charley and the strange horse
raised their heads and stared as the little cavalcade
trooped by their stalls. Perhaps they were won-
dering that there was so much less laughing and
talking than when it went up. They did not
know, you see, about the "perfectly awful" rob-
ber story, or the mysterious rustle, or how dread-
fully Mrs. Top-knot in the dark corner had
frightened the merry little crowd.

(To be continued.)


HERE was an old man of the Nile,
Who had a benevolent smile,
When they said, Smile again,"
He replied, I'm not vain,
But I think I do know how to smile."




(For Frank, Harry and Ellie, and for any other Children who have Lived just as many Years as they.)


How many birthdays now have you tried?
How many boys take a base-ball side?
How many days does a wonder last?
How many muses throve in the past?
How many tails has a navy "cat"?
How many lives the foe of the rat?
How many syllables has this line ?
How many lines has this poem fine?
What can the answer be but -?



AGAMEMNON felt that it became necessary for
him to choose a profession. It was important on
account of the little boys. If he should make a
trial of several different professions, he could find
out -. I-;.1.h would be the most likely to be success-
ful, '.,r-i 1t would then be easy to bring up the little
boys in the right direction.
Elizabeth Eliza agreed with this. She thought
the family occasionally made mistakes, and had
come near disgracing themselves. Now was their
chance to avoid this in future, by giving the little
boys a proper education.
Solomon John was almost determined to become
a doctor. From earliest childhood he had practiced
writing recipes on little slips of paper. Mrs.
Peterkin, to be sure, was afraid of infection. She
could not bear the idea of his bringing one disease
after the other into the family circle. Solomon
John, too, did not like sick people. He thought
he might manage it, if he should not have to see
his patients while they were sick. If he could only
visit them when they were recovering, and when
the danger of infection was over, he would really
enjoy making calls.
He should have a comfortable doctor's chaise,
and take one of the little boys to hold his horse
while he went in, and he thought he could get
through the conversational part very well, and
feeling the pulse, perhaps looking at the tongue.
He should take and read all the newspapers, and
so be thoroughly acquainted with the news of the

day. But he should not like to be waked up at
night to visit. Mr. Peterkin thought that would
not be necessary. He had seen signs on doors of
"Night Doctor," and certainly it would be as
convenient to have a sign of "Not a Night
Solomon John thought he might write his
advice to those of his patients who were danger-
ously ill, from whom there was danger of infection.
And then Elizabeth Eliza agreed that his prescrip-
tions would probably be so satisfactory that they
would keep his patients well, not too well to do
without a doctor, but needing his recipes.
Agamemnon was delayed, however, in his choice
of a profession, by a desire he had to become a
famous inventor. If he could only invent some-
thing important, and get out a patent, he would
make himself known all over the country. If he
could get out a patent, he would be set up for life,
or at least as long as the patent lasted, and it
would be well to be sure to arrange it to last
through his natural life.
Indeed, he had gone so far as to make his
invention. It had been suggested by their trouble
with a key, in their late moving to their new house.
He had studied the matter over a great deal. He
looked it up in the Encyclopedia, and had spent a
day or two in the public library, in reading about
Chubb's Lock, and other patent locks.
But his plan was more simple. It was this, that
all keys should be made alike! He wondered



it had not been thought of before, but so it was,
Solomon John said, with all inventions, with
Christopher Columbus, and everybody. Nobody
knew the invention till it was invented, and then it
looked very simple. With Agamemnon's plan,
you need have but one key, that should fit every-
thing! It should be a medium-sized key, not too
large to carry. It ought to answer for a house
door, but you might open a portmanteau with it.
How much less danger there would be of losing
one's keys, if there were only one to lose!
Mrs. Peterkin thought it would be inconvenient
if their father were out, and she wanted to open
the jam closet for the little boys. But Agamemnon
explained that he did not mean there should be
but one key in the family, or in a town,-you
might have as many as you pleased,-only they
should all be alike.
Elizabeth Eliza felt it would be a great con-
venience-they could keep the front door always
locked, yet she could open it with the key of her
upper drawer, that she was sure to have with her.
And Mrs. Peterkin felt it might be a convenience
if they had one on each story, so that they need
not go up and down for it.
Mr. Peterkin studied all the papers and advertise-
ments, to decide about the lawyer whom they
should consult, and at last, one morning, they went
into town to visit a patent agent.
Elizabeth Eliza took the occasion to make a call
upon the lady from Philadelphia, but she came
back hurriedly to her mother.
I have had a delightful call," she said, "but,
perhaps I was wrong, I could not help in conver-
sation speaking of Agamemnon's proposed patent.
I ought not to have mentioned it, as such things
are kept profound secrets; they say women always
do tell things, I suppose that is the reason."
But what is the harm ?" asked Mrs. Peterkin,
I'm sure you can trust the lady from Phila-
delphia! "
Elizabeth Eliza then explained that the lady from
Philadelphia had questioned the plan a little, when
it was told her, and had suggested that if every-
body had the same key there would be no particular
use in a lock."
"Did you explain to her," said Mrs. Peter-
kin, "that we were not all to have the same
"I could n't quite understand her," said Eliza-
beth Eliza, "but she seemed to think that burglars
and other people might come in, if the keys were
the same."
"Agamemnon would not sell his patent to
burglars said Mrs. Peterkin, indignantly.
Talk about other people," said Elizabeth Eliza;
"there is my upper drawer; the little boys might

open it at Christmas time,-and their presents
in it! "
And I am not sure that I could trust Amanda,"
said Mrs. Peterkin, considering.
Both she and Elizabeth Eliza felt that Mr.
Peterkin ought to know what the lady from Phila-
delphia had suggested. Elizabeth Eliza then pro-
posed going into town, but it would take so long,
she might not reach them in time. A telegram
would be better, and she ventured to suggest using
the Telegraph Alarm.
For, on moving into their new house, they had
discovered it was provided with all the modern
improvements. This had been a disappointment
to Mrs. Peterkin, for she was afraid of them, since
their experience the last winter, when their water-
pipes were froze up. She had been originally
attracted to the house by an old pump at the side,
which had led her to believe there were no modern
improvements. It had pleased the little boys too.
They liked to pump the handle up and down, and
agreed to pump all the water needed, and bring it
into the house.
There was also an old well, with a picturesque
well-sweep, in a corner by the barn. Mrs. Peterkin
was frightened by this, at first. She was afraid
the little boys would be falling in every day. And
they showed great fondness for pulling the bucket
up and down. It proved, however, that the well
was dry. There was no water in it, so she had
some moss thrown down, and an old F. -ii. -i-L.d,
for safety, and the old well was a favorite place of
The house, it had proved, was well furnished with
bath-rooms, and set-waters" everywhere. Water-
pipes and gas-pipes all over the house, and a hack,
and a telegraph, and fire-alarm, with a little knob
for each.
Mrs. Peterkin was very anxious. She feared the
little boys would be summoning somebody all the
time, and it was decided to conceal from them the
use of the knobs, and the card of directions at the
side was destroyed. Agamemnon had made one
of his first inventions to help this. He had
arranged a number of similar knobs to be put ii
rows in different parts of the house, to appear as if
they were intended for ornament, and had added
some to the original knobs. Mrs. Peterkin felt
more secure, and Agamemnon thought of taking
out a patent for this invention.
It was, therefore, with some doubt, that Elizabeth
Eliza proposed sending a telegram to her father.
Mrs. Peterkin, however, was pleased with the idea.
Solomon John was out, and the little boys were at
school, and she, herself, would touch the knob,
while Elizabeth Eliza should write the telegram.
I think it is the fourth knob from the begin-




ning," she said, looking at one of the rows of
Elizabeth Eliza was sure of this. Agamemnon,
she believed, had put three extra knobs at each end.
"But which is the end, and which is the begin-
ning--the top or the bottom?" Mrs. Peterkin
asked, hopelessly.
Still she bravely selected a knob, and Elizabeth
Eliza hastened with her to look out for the mes-
senger. How soon should they see the telegraph
They seemed to have scarcely reached the win-
dow, when a terrible noise was heard, and down
the shady street the white horses of the fire brigade
were seen rushing at fatal speed !
It was a terrific moment !
I have touched the fire-alarm," Mrs. Peterkin
Both rushed to open the front door in agony.
By this time, the fire-engines were approaching.
"Do not be alarmed," said the chief engineer,
"the furniture shall be carefully covered, and we
will move all that is necessary."
"Move again!" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, in
Elizabeth Eliza strove to explain that she was
only sending a telegram to her father, who was in
It is not important," said the head engineer,
the fire will all be out before it could reach him."
AW he ran upstairs, for the engines were begin-
ningto play upon the roof.
Mrs. Peterkin rushed to the knobs again,
hurriedly; there was more necessity for summon-
ing Mr. Peterkin home.
"Write .a telegram to your father," she said to
Elizabeth Eliza, "to 'come home directly.'"
That will take but three words," said Elizabeth
Eliza, with presence of mind, and we need ten.
I was just trying to make them out."
What has come now? exclaimed Mrs. Peter-
kin, and they hurried again to the window, to see
a row of carriages coming down the street.
I must have touched the carriage-knob," cried
Mrs. Peterkin, "and I pushed it half a dozen
times, I felt so anxious "
Six hacks stood before the door. All the village
boys were assembling. Even their own little boys
had returned from school, and were showing the
firemen the way to the well.
Again Mrs. Peterkin rushed .to the knobs, and
a fearful sound arose. She had touched the
burglar alarm!
The former owner of the house, who had a great
fear of burglars, had invented a machine of his
own, which he had connected with a knob. A
wire attached to the knob moved a spring that could

put in motion a number of watchmen's rattles,
hidden under the eaves of the piazza.
All these were now set a-going, and their terrible
din roused those of the neighborhood who had
not before assembled around the house. At this
moment, Elizabeth Eliza met the chief engineer.
You need not send for more help," he said;
" we have all the engines in town here, and have
stirred up all the towns in the neighborhood; there's
no use in springing any more alarms. I can't
find the fire yet, but we have water pouring all
over the house."
Elizabeth Eliza waved her telegram in the air.
We are only trying to send a telegram to my
father and brother, who are in town," she endeav-
ored to explain.
"If it is necessary," said the chief engineer,
" you might send it down in one of the hackney
carriages. I see a number standing before the
door. We 'd better begin to move the heavier
furniture, and some of you women might fill the
carriages with smaller things."
Mrs. Peterkin was ready to fall into hysterics.
She controlled herself with a supreme power, and
hastened to touch another knob.
Elizabeth Eliza corrected her telegram, and
decided to take the advice of the chief engineer,
and went to the door to give her message to one
of the hackmen, when she saw a telegraph boy
appear. Her mother had touched the right knob.
It was the fourth from the beginning, but the
beginning was at the other end!
She went out to meet the boy, when, to her joy,
she saw behind him her father and Agamemnon.
She clutched her telegram,and hurried toward them.
Mr. Peterkin was bewildered. Was the house
on fire? If so, where were the flames?
He saw the row of carriages. Was there a
funeral, or a wedding? Who was dead? Who
was to be married?
He seized the telegram that Elizabeth Eliza
reached to him, and read it aloud.
Come to us directly-the house is NOT on fire!"
The chief engineer was standing on the steps.
The house not on fire he exclaimed. What
are we all summoned for ? "
It is a mistake," cried Elizabeth Eliza, wring-
ing her hands. We touched the wrong knob;
we wanted the telegraph boy "
We touched all the wrong knobs," exclaimed
Mrs. Peterkin, from the house.
The chief engineer turned directly to give
counter-directions, with a few exclamations of dis-
gust, as the bells of distant fire-engines were heard
Solomon John appeared at this moment, and
proposed taking one of the carriages, and going



for a doctor for his mother, for she was really now
ready to fall into hysterics, and Agamemnon
thought to send a telegram down by the boy, for
the evening papers to announce that the Peterkins'
house had not been on fire.
The crisis of the commotion had reached its
height. The beds of flowers bordered with dark-
colored leaves were trodden down by the feet of the
crowd that had assembled.
The chief engineer grew more and more indig-
nant, as he sent his men to order back the fire-
engines from the neighboring towns. The col-
lection of boys followed the procession as it went
away. The fire brigade hastily removed covers
from some of the furniture, restored the rest to
their places, and took away their ladders. Many
neighbors remained, but Mr. Peterkin hastened
into the house to attend to Mrs. Peterkin.

Elizabeth Eliza took an opportunity to question
her father, before he went in, as to the success of
their visit to town.
We saw all of the patent agents," answered
Mr. Peterkin, in a hollow whisper. Not one of
them will touch the patent, or have anything to do
with it."
Elizabeth Eliza looked at Agamemnon, as he
walked silently into the house. She would not
now speak to him of the patent; but she recalled
some words of Solomon John. When they were
discussing the patent, he had said that many an
inventor had grown gray before his discovery was
acknowledged by the public. Others might reap
the harvest, but it came, perhaps, only when he
was going to his grave.
Elizabeth Eliza looked at Agamemnon reverently,
and followed him silently into the house.

(A South-African Yarn.)


BAAS, baas! spoor groed one-horn skellum !"
Such was the, to me, rather unintelligible an-
nouncement with which my friend M--'s bush-boy
came rushing in just about sunrise one morning, as
we were sitting over our breakfast at the door of the
house,-one of those regular old Dutch-built farm-
houses, that one hardly ever sees nowadays, except
in South Africa. But he meant by it was, "Boss,
boss the trail of a big rhinoceros rascal! "
"Where?" cried M- jumping up; for he
was a keen sportsman, and never lost an opportu-
nity of "potting" something.
Out by Hollow Spring, baas;-spoor good !"
There 's a chance for you, my boy," said
M- turning to me. Now you 'll be able to
see how these elephant-guns of mine do their
work; I think you 'll find them the right sort."
"Let me try the job by myself," cried I,
eagerly; for, like all greenhorns," I was frantic
to do some unheard-of feat, and win my laurels at
once. "I 've never shot a rhinoceros yet, you
Can't, really, my dear boy," said M- in
the most exasperatingly indulgent tone; "when
you're a little better used to the African bush, you
can do what you like; but if I were to let you go
alone now, the least I could expect would be a life-

long remorse for having connived at a ;...:
No, we'll make a party of three to visit our !r,.:. i,
and he '11 hardly give the slip to us all, I fancy."
Accordingly, we started out that very night,
Swart, the bush-boy, making the third of our
party; but I suppose the, rhinoceros was too
modest to face so many visitors at once, for
although we kept watch till sunrise, there was no
.sign of him. The next night it was just the same;
and at last I got so mad at the idea of losing my
chance,-the first I had ever had with the big
game,-that, in spite of what M- had said, I
made up my mind to try my luck single-handed.
I should have told you that the Hollow Spring
frequented by my four-footed friend, lay about
eight miles from the house, in a deep gully, one
side of which went up into a steep hog-backed
ridge, topped by a big knuckle of rock that over-
looked the spring at a range of fifty yards-as
pretty a "stand" as any sportsman could wish.
So, when night came, I stole out of the house with
one of M- 's vaunted elephant-guns,"-a piece
carrying a five-ounce explosive ball," steel-tipped,
and holding enough fulminating powder to blow
out the spine of a i, :-. .r.ii.: ;i.,, To guard against
the recoil of such a charge, the stock was fitted
with a thick pad; so, with gun and ammunition



together, I had quite enough to carry for an eight-
mile tramp through the bush.
I dare say there are ugly thickets in South
America and Central Asia; but Africa beats them
both. Imagine a forest of fish-hooks, relieved by
an occasional patch of penknives, and you have it
exactly. There 's one horrid spiky thing, called
by the Dutch "Wache-em-betje," which the
English have corrupted into "wait-a-bit," and it

The full moon was just rising over the trees (a
glorious sight, I can tell you), when I heard a
distant trampling, like the tread of an elephant,
only quicker; for a full-grown rhinoceros, clumsy
as he looks, can be active enough at times, as you'd
soon find if you stood a charge from him when
his temper's up. So I had not long to wait before
there came a thick snort, and the great brown
barrel of a body loomed out in the streak of


does make you wait a bit, if it once gets hold of
you. I 've known a fellow be laid up for a fort-
night with a gash from one. So you may think
that with masses of this nice stuff all around
me, I had to pick my way gingerly enough.
When I got to the place, lo! and behold, the
pad of my gun had fallen off! To go back and
look for it would have been like hunting for a
needle in a hay-stack; so I filled my handkerchief
with wild grass, and tucked it in under the shoulder
of my jacket as a substitute, and then I took my
post behind the rock, and waited.
VOL. VI.-18.

moonlight, just over the spring. I hardly stop-
ped to take aim, before I pulled trigger.
The next few seconds were a blank; and then I
awoke to the consciousness that my shoulder was
aching as if it were broken, and that something
was grunting savagely a few yards off; and then I
saw the huge snout and great white tusks coming
right at me! I don't think any acrobat could
have been quicker than I was in clutching a pro-
jecting bough, and swinging up into the tree
overhead; and I 'd hardly got there when the
brute came bang against the trunk, almost shak-



ing me off again. For a minute or two, my
heart was in my mouth, for he thumped against
the tree till I really thought he would have it down;
and when he found he could n't, he stamped the
earth in a fury, and tore it up with his horn in a
horribly suggestive way that made my flesh creep.
Here I was, then, in the crisis of a regular
"adventure," such as I had always longed for;
but somehow, now that I was in it, it did n't seem
so very delightful. It's one thing to read of advent-
ures in an easy-chair after dinner, and another
to act them for yourself all night on a hard bough,
with thousands of mosquitos pitching into you, and
a mad rhinoceros galloping about underneath.
The likeness between my situation and some
of those recorded by Captain Mayne Reid set me
overhauling my recollections of that veracious
author, in the hope of an idea; but the more I
thought, the more the Captain failed me. Basil,
when followed up a tree by a bear, got his brothers
to throw him up a rope, and slid down; but I had
no brothers, and no rope. Ben Brace, when
"treed "'by the lion, lassoed his dropped musket,
and slew the king of beasts therewith; but I had
no lasso, and could n't have used it if I had.
Somebody else, blockaded by a grizzly," waited

till Bruin fell asleep, and then slipped away; but
my rhinoceros seemed distressingly wide-awake,
and even if he had dozed, the experiment would
not have commended itself to my fancy. In short,
the most masterly stratagem I could devise was
to stay still where I was, and I did so.
That night was the longest I ever spent, and no
mistake. Toward morning, Master Rhino frequently
took a brief leave of absence into the bush, as if
to tempt me down; but I heard him trampling in
the distance, and was n't to be caught. Day was
just dawning, and I was beginning to wonder how
much longer I could stand the thirst that was
parching me up, when suddenly I heard a shot
among the bushes, so close that it made me start.
Then the boughs parted, and I saw M- 's jolly
face looking up at me, with a grin from ear to ear.
Fairly treed, eh, my boy? Well, I've raised
the siege for you, and yonder lies the enemy.
Your bullet's run down his side, under the skin,
without exploding; so I suppose you must have
hit him slantwise. Better luck next time. Anyhow,
I 'm glad to find you alive; but I fancy you wont
go out alone again in a hurry !"
And, to tell the truth, I did n't, for a pretty long
while after that day.


By M. D. RUFF.

No one can say just when violins were invented,
but it is certain that, -1.. ..- 1, the principle of this
instrument-strings set in vibration upon a sound-
ing-board-was known in the earliest times, the
world still went on harping and drumming, playing
on pipes, tabors, lutes, dulcimers and other instru-
ments, of which we have no patterns, for more than
five thousand years.
Stringed instruments were in use as far back as
the ninth century. Then musicians were content
with the rude instrument called a Rebek, shown in
Fig. I, next page. By the eleventh century they
advanced to the Crouth, Fig. 2. In the thirteenth
century we find the guitar-shaped fiddle (Fig. 3,
page 252), from which it seems easy to trace the
development of the modern violin (Fig. 4). But
strong as the family likeness may be, and slight as the
changes seem to our glance, it took just three hun-
dred years of men's lives and work and brains to
effect these changes, and to make our violin the
instrument with which we are all familiar.
The first violin is said to have come from the

workshop of a studious old instrument-maker,
Gasparo di Salo, who lived in the village of Brescia,
in northern Italy, toward the last of the sixteenth
century. He gave the violin its present shape and
size and its name, which signifies little viol."
After him, in the same town, came many other
makers whom we need not recall, till we come to
the famous name of Amati.
Andreas Amati lived in the neighboring town
of Cremona, and spent his time making viols after
the fashion of the day. But it was a poor fashion,
he thought; and when he heard that Gasparo di
Salo had made great improvements and changes in
the instrument, he journeyed to Brescia, entered
Gasparo's workshop, learned all that was taught
there, and then, burning with new ideas, he went
home and established in his native village the cele-
brated school of Cremona violins. His sons were
brought up to their father's trade, and they handed
the secrets of it to their sons, who, in turn, altered
and shaped and invented, seeking perfection.
About a hundred years after Gasparo di Salo had





sent his violin into the world, a young man named
Antonius Stradivarius was among the pupils at the
Amati school. He was a slow, silent youth, not
remarkable for anything excepting his close atten-
tion to his work and his careful study of his master's
instruments. Even after his apprenticeship was
over, and he had started his own workshop, he

f7 , .

clung to the old patterns, copying them in every
detail, both faults and merits, and often signing
them with the name of his master, Nicholas Amati.
But one day he seems to have waked suddenly to
clearer sight, and he said to himself:
"There's more music in wood and strings and
horse-hair than has ever yet been brought out.
Antonius, that is your work to do."
So he set about this newly revealed task with
that quiet zeal and infinite patience which we
describe by the single word genius." For twenty
years he shut himself up in a lonely workshop. All
the long time between early manhood and middle
age he spent before a work-bench, with compass or
tool in hand, experimenting with his materials,
testing, studying, and applying their properties and
resources. He was fifty-six years old before he was
satisfied that he had reached the best results of his
studies, and then, full of knowledge and
power, he began, in 1690, to make violins
with wonderful rapidity, sending them
throughout the musical world, where their
surpassing merits made them and the name
of Stradivarius famous forever.
But, while his biographers can tell us of
his great name, they know little of the man
himself. One but repeats after the other
that he was tall and thin. He wore a cap
of white wool in the winter, a cotton one in
summer. At his work he put on a white
leather apron, and, as he was always work-
ing, his costume never varied. He finished
his last violin in his ninety-second year, and he died
rich and honored at the ripe age of ninety-three
years. But, with these dull, meager points, a little
fancy fills up the picture of this man, who was suc-
cessful because he had full faith in the worth of his
work, and in his own power to do it. Stradivarius
had many students, some of whom became famous;

but they could not improve upon his methods, nor
has any one done better since.
When we think of the slow growth of the violin,
advancing only by centuries, we can scarcely under-
stand why a thing so slight, so apparently simple,
should have required six thousand years for its per-
fection. But what was the problem which the
makers of the violin had set themselves ? Simply
this: to create a human voice. The air was filled
with music; sweetest of all were the voices of
women. No instrument expressed the shrill, clear
vibrant quality of a soprano voice. Beside it, the
tones of harps, lutes, guitars and spinets were hol-
low and vexing. Each violin-maker then sought,
with his bits of wood and strings, to put the air in
motion, to gather the sound-waves and confine
them in the wooden shell, and to send them back
to us in tones which should be brilliant, flexible,
true and mellow as the loveliest singing-voice,-a
voice without a human body, and yet one which
should thrill us as if it started from a human soul.
This was an immense problem, only to be solved
by countless practical experiments. The theory
of acoustics, which our latter-day philosophers have
made so plain, had not then been formulated, and
these old workmen groped in the dark, sure of
nothing till they tested it. The least alteration in
the curve of the lines, or thickness of the wood, or
in the proportions of one part to another, cost years
of study, with daily comparisons and failures. The
materials were few; but a thousand variations of
sound, volume and quality of tone could be pro-
duced from them.
It would be foolish to say that Stradivarius and
his fellows worked without method in a hap-hazard
way; but they certainly made laws for themselves,

and these laws are based upon scientific principles
so exact that Professor Tyndall himself can use
nothing which proves and illustrates his lectures on
sound so thoroughly as a Cremona violin. As to
creating a human voice, that is done so exactly with
every shade and turn of expression that singing-
masters say no voice can be perfectly true which


has not been trained by the violin, instead of the
jangling piano-forte.
I have not space to explain the principles upon
which the violin is constructed. I should like
merely to give an idea of the skill, labor and

.i- ...- -- .

ingenuity required to select and prepare the mate-
rials used in a good violin.
When complete, the violin is made up of fifty-
eight different pieces, not adding the elaborate
carving and scroll-work which adorns many of the
early instruments. The body of the violin alone
has a head or scroll, a long slim neck, a thin belly,
back and sides. The wood used in the belly, or
sounding-board, must be of soft red fir,-a kind
which grows only upon the Tyrolese mountains.
This wood is light and strong, but very porous,-
of looser grain, we say, than any other wood,-and
therefore gives freer passage to the waves of sound,
which travel through it as rapidly as through glass
or steel. The wood should be cut during certain
winter months, when the sap has ceased to flow.
It is then dried, either in ovens or by exposure to
the sun. The strength and brilliance of tone de-
pend chiefly upon the thorough seasoning of the
wood. No moisture or foreign matter can be left in
the pores to interfere with the perfect sonority of
the wood. Age is the best seasoner, however, and
deal which has
been in lonn

------ -_ ---
'- -- '"


purposes, is eagerly sought by violin-makers. The
benches from old mountain churches have been
used; and there is a story of an enthusiast who
ransacked Switzerland, went into the meanest hov-
els, and bought up the pine tables and chairs,
bargained for the wood-work of the chalets, and
finally bought from the curate of a small parish the

whole ceiling of his sitting-room because it was in
just the right condition for his sounding-boards.
Swiss sycamore is used for the neck, back and
sides of the violin. Being denser than deal, it
vibrates more slowly and yields a note of different
pitch, which difference has been proved necessary
for the harmony. The wood is cut into lengths
and widths, fixed by mathematical calculations,
hollowed into layers no thicker than a sixpence,
and then shaped and wrought, with extreme pre-
cision, into those graceful wavy outlines, which are
not chosen because they are graceful, but because
they combine the greatest strength and power with
convenience and beauty. These shaping are all
done by strict rule and measurements, but the end-
less accidental variations in the curves give rise to
endless differences of tone in the finished instru-
ments, and hence we never find two violins precisely
alike in tone, just as we never hear two voices of
exactly the same quality.
The belly, back and sides, are glued together,

and a slim sounding-post
of deal connects the belly
and back still more in-
timately. A clear, trans-
parent varnish is put over
the surface; the tail-piece,
finger-board, and string-
screws of fine ebony are




added; the tiny instrument is strung with its four
strings, and the violin is ready.
But in yielding its marvelous volume of sound
the violin bears a monstrous strain. It weighs not
more than twenty ounces, and when it is tuned up
to concert-pitch, the tension on each of the four
strings is abdut eighty pounds. As if, for example,
two men should take the opposite ends of a string
and pull against each other with all their might. A
wooden shell, so thin and frail that you might
splinter it across your knee, has resisted a pressure
of hundred-weights for centuries. Why does it not
collapse? So it would, like a sheet of glass,
were it not as wonderfully built inside as out,
Sand strengthened by such cunning contrivances
that the vast vibration is not marred by clumsy
thickness. Inside of the little body six blocks
of light wood are glued,-one
-- -- at the top where the neck
joins the body, one at the
bottom, one at each of the
four rounded corners. Two sets of thin linings,
about a quarter of an inch deep, run around the
inside to connect the blocks and to distribute the
resistance. On the outside is the bridge, which,
though most needful in giving strength and power
to the sound, serves also to relieve the sides of the
tension by throwing the strain upon the belly.



This is supported in its turn by a'small block of
deal, called the bass-bar, glued under one foot of
the bridge. These are all the helps which the violin
has to withstand the dragging of the strings, which
tug at its frail body night and day.
In this little machine, so simple and complex,
so finished and harmonious in every part, all acci-
dents seem to have been provided for, and it is
almost indestructible. If it is broken, and worn,
and battered, it can be restored and mended;
nothing but being burnt to ashes, or ground to
powder, can put it beyond the skill of the repairer
and his magical glue-pot, and it comes
out from every fray as good as new.
Better than new, in truth, for age and ,
long use can only improve the tone of a
good violin. It grows sweeter, and purer,
and mellower with every year.
The trumpeter, Hans, followed his gen-
eral, Bliicher, into Paris, after the victory i
of Waterloo. Hans was a burly, smoky,
beery fellow; honest too; but he meant
not to cross the Rhine homeward without
a trophy. He stalked through the splen-
did palaces with his hands in his pockets,
and his spurs clanking.
"Ac/i hein! something I must have to show
to mein wifes, and little Hansies, and to the cob-
bler, and tailor, and school-master, or they never will
have belief that I have been in Kaiser Napoleon's
palace. Dis leetle fiddles, he will do, if when dey
say 'nein,' I will show dem his voice and say 'Ja / '"
Hans sounded his trumpet, mounted his horse
and rode away; but the little fiddle went with him
wrapped up in his buttony great-coat and packed
away on his saddle. Of course, when he got home
he found the pretty thing broken to pieces. Hans
did not know much about fiddles, and his wife was
a bit of a shrew; but he could not bear to throw
away the only token of his martial glory, so he
took the fragments and stuffed them out of sight
behind an old looking-glass. After a while, simple
Hans died and his wife married again. At the
first house-cleaning the old glass was moved, and
the scraps of dusty wood and broken strings came
rattling down.
"Oh, ho!" said Mr. Hans the second. "A
fiddle! An old fiddle Donner und blitzen / a
Cremona fiddle."
He carried the pieces to'a repairer of violins,
who opened his eyes wide at the prize, and offered
Hans a sum for it which made his head whirl.
I have often seen this violin and heard it played
upon. The varnish is rubbed off in spots, and the
back and belly are seamed and pieced like patch-
work; but the lovely tone is there, still pure and
clear as an angel's voice.

These old instruments, many of which have stood
the wear and tear of two centuries, are very pre-
cious to their owners, and are worth many times
their weight in gold. Men who fashion violins
now strive in vain to imitate the perfect curves and
proportions of the old models, their ethereal, ring-
ing voices, and the lovely hues of the varnishes,
just as modern painters study the secrets of color
and the baffling charm of the old Venetian pictures.
Like these pictures, too, many early violins are
carefully kept in museums. The violin of Paga-
nini, the great violinist, who was said to have sold


himself to the devil for his marvelous execution, is
locked up in Genoa: its strings never struck.
Others belong to the nobility; for in the palmy
days of violin manufacture a Cremona fiddle was
considered a royal gift.
But wherever these instruments may be, they are
well known to musicians, and they are spoken of
by individual names as the Blood-red Knight Guar-
nerius, the Bass of Spain, the Great Yellow Stradi-
varius, the General Fridd Stradivarius, and other
such high-sounding titles. If one of them should
change its owner by gift or sale, there would be
more stir,over it, in the musical world at least,
than if Queen Victoria should give the Koh-i-noor
to the Pope. Fortunately, these rare and costly
violins are sometimes owned by the great violinists,
who alone can make them eloquent to us. Ole
Bull, the Norwegian, well known to Americans,
has a violin, known by the regal title of the King
Joseph Guarnerius, for which the sum of four thou-
sand dollars was paid,-a very high price for a
violin, but not the very highest.
A pretty story is told of this same violin. When
Ole Bull was in America he had to go from one
little town to another to give a concert. Perhaps
tired of railway traveling,-perhaps the better to
see the country,-he took passage on an Ohio River
steamboat. In a little while the boiler burst, after the
Western fashion, tearing away the fore part of the
boat, and setting the cabins on fire. Ole Bull
found himself choked, deafened, blinded, in the


midst of struggling, shrieking women and children,
shattered timbers, smoke, flame, and noisy waters.
What did he do ? swim for his life? lend a hand to
any woman or little child? No. He did neither.
I doubt if he remembered that around him were
human beings in danger. He rushed to his violin-
case, took from it the precious instrument, put it
between, his strong, white teeth, leaped over the
blazing guards into the black water, and struck out
manfully for the shore, which he gained in triumph,
and there stood gazing at his fiddle, dripping, and
proud as the Newfoundland dog who saves a drown-
ing child. Ole Bull was nothing to Ole Bull in

that moment. His beloved and precious instru-
ment was all in all. The only King Joseph
Guarnerius might have been lost !
This story but shows the close affection, curiously
human, which lives between the master and his
violin. 'I think each player on the violin is its lover,
too. He seems to give a part of his own soul to it,
and then to find in it a friend that grows sensitive
and alive under his varying touch. A voice pours
from the tiny bosom, and becomes the dearest and
sweetest in all the world to him, uttering his deep-
est feelings, and whispering to him the secrets of
his own soul.



To Sir Green-eyes Grimalkin de Tabby de Sly
His mistress remarked one day,
I 'm tormented, my cat, both by mouse and by rat,
Come rid me of them, I pray.

For though you 're a cat of renowned descent,
And your kittenhood days have flown,
Yet never a trace of the blood of your race
In battle or siege you 've shown."

Sir Green-eyes Grimalkin de Tabby de Sly
Arose from his downy bed,
He washed himself o'er, from his knightly paw
To the crown of his knightly head.

And he curled his whiskers and combed his hair,
And put on his perfumed gloves;
And his sword he girt on, which he never had done
Save to dazzle the eyes of his loves.

And when he had cast an admiring glance
On the looking-glass tall and fair,
To the pantry he passed; but he stood aghast,
For lo the pantry was bare.

The pickles, the cookies, the pies, were gone;
And naught remained on the shelf
Save the bone of a ham, which lay cold and calm,
The ghost of its former self.



Sir Green-eyes Grimalkin stood sore amazed,
And he looked for the mice and rats;
But they, every one, had been long since gone
Far, far from the reach of cats.

For while he was donning his satin pelisse,
And his ribbons and laces gay,
They had finished their feast, without hurry the least,
And had r. *,,,,ii;l trotted away.

The mistress of Green-eyes Grimalkin de Sly,
A woman full stern was she,
She came to the door, and she rated him sore,
And punished him over her knee.

She grasped him, spite of his knightly blood,
By the tip of his knightly tail.
His adornments she stripped, and his body she dipped
Three times in the water-pail.

She plunged him thrice neathh the icy flood,.
Then drove him outside to dry.
And terror and cold on his feelings so told,
That he really was like to die.

And now in this world 't would be hard to find,
Although you looked low and. high,
A cat who cares less for the beauties of dress
Than Sir Green-eyes Grimalkin de Sly.

-t' -- ~j9


~ ~,,
.-A :i~ ~i
--~i :; c:i.


- j%----'

1.. 19-

Ar-;s ESK~I~:i')

.. ........



;;75- _~--




"POTTERING done here with a spring-cart."
This was painted on a little sign-board fastened
to the side of her father's house. He potteredd,"
did small jobs in moving goods and furniture with
his spring-cart and a poor old horse. And now,
the horse was dead and the cart broken,-run into
by an omnibus on Market street in busy Manches-
ter. Mary's father brought home a piece of the
shaft. The police had taken away the rest, and
that was the end of the pottering business. She
was sitting in her mother's dismal chamber, just
before it happened, and leaning out of the window
she looked into the street. A queer, dark street,
with five brick houses on one side and five more on
the other; and so very narrow that the little boys
playing there said they could "jump it in four
jumps." She looked up at the sky, but there was
nothing to be seen, for the little two-story house
stood under a huge brick arch that sprang over
house, street and all, and landed on the opposite
sidewalk, and made a brick sky over her head.
The street itself seemed half lost in the bottom of a
well, for a great mill rose high over the arch, and
threw its black shadow over the whole place.
Another arch sprang over the next row of houses,
and on top of these the engines and cars flew along
every few minutes high over the tops of the chim-
Just as she looked out, she saw her father enter
the little place with the piece of broken shaft in his
hand. The children playing on the -i.. ilk:.
laughed at him and tried to catch the piece of
broken harness that trailed along the ground
behind the poor old man. Mary knew in a moment
what it all meant. Something had happened to
the spring-cart and the horse. They could never
buy another cart, and as for a horse it was quite
out of the question, and that was the end of the
pottering business. The horse had brought them
nearly twenty shillings a week (about five dollars
in our money), and on that they three, Mary and
her father and mother, had contrived to live.
And the horse was dead. She heard her father
say so as he entered the house. She looked up at
the brick sky and wondered what would become of
them now. But the sky only dripped black drops
of water, that fell with a splash in a pool in the
street. A train rolled over the top of the sky, and
it seemed to thunder.
Suddenly a bell began to ring high up in the air,
somewhere above the brick sky. Mary looked to

the left and saw a man open a gate in a fence that
stretched across the street just beyond the arch-way.
Then a number of women, dressed in long white
aprons and with small red shawls tied over their
heads, came up the street and passed under the
arch and entered, the gate. Mary knew they were
the spinners in the mill, and she at once slipped
down from her seat, and with soft footsteps stole
down-stairs and out-of-doors. She crossed the
street and then stood under the brick arch-way near
the gate. Presently a woman approached, and
stepping up to her, Mary said, boldly:
Do 'e want me in your mill?"
The woman stopped and looked at the child. A
small, thin-faced creature, with bare arms and feet,
clothed in a black woolen frock, much worn, and
far too small for her. Pale, blue eyes, yellow hair,
a small mouth, and with an anxious and frightened
expression on her face.
What be yer name, lass?"
Mary. My father lives yon,-he potters,-
but the horse is dead,-I 'm 'most ten."
"Yes. Ten come Michaelmas."
Does your father know ?"
"No. I have n't asked him. He '11 be willing ;
for the horse is dead and the cart is broken."
Come on. One o' my lasses is sick. Ye can
scavenger for her, and then I'll see yore folks."
What '11 'e give me?"
Two-and-sixpence the week."
In silence the child took the woman's hand, and
they both entered the gate. The man standing
there looked at Mary sharply, but the woman said
it was all right, and then they came to a strange
place that seemed like a pit sunk in the ground.
The real sky could be seen overhead, but it was
brown with smoke. On one side stood the tall
mill, full of staring windows. Mary thought they
looked like great white eyes blinking at her in a
dreadful manner. On the other side there was
another great wall, but with no eyes at all, and
looking even more dreadful. At the end of the
yard stood a row of iron boilers, with glowing fires
under them, like red eyes looking out of the black-
ness, and with jets of white steam hissing every-
where, as if warning her away.
There was no time to look at these dreadful
things, and Mary gladly followed the woman, and
turned to the left, past a corner of the mill. The
railway arches seemed to nearly cover them, and




the mill appeared to run up into the brown sky
somewhere. Then they turned another corner and
came to a smaller yard, with vast brick walls full
of windows on every side. Here there was a stone
basin in one corner and a jet of water coming out
of the wall. Some boys were drawing water there,
but Mary had no time to look at anything, for the
woman led her to the foot of a great brick tower as
high as the mill. Here they entered a door, and
the woman led the way round and round, up. and
up a long flight of stone steps. They passed a
number of black doors in the whitewashed wall,
and a number of little windows looking out on the
yard, and then the woman pushed open one of
the doors, and they entered a large room full of
The woman led the way past the rows of shining
machines quite to the end of the room, near the
windows. Mary glanced out of one window, and
found that she was at the top of the mill, and high
above the railway that sprang over the top of her
house under the arches. Beyond she could see
whole rows of chimneys, and here and there a mill
towering far above the houses and streets. She
looked about the room and saw a number of men
and women standing as if waiting for something,
and with them she saw a number of boys and girls
very like herself. There was little time to notice
them, for the woman put a bundle of greasy rags
in her hand, and bade her wipe the dust from the
machinery. A long iron frame, higher than her
head, stretched from side to side of the room. On
the front of the frame stood a row of iron spindles,
each wound with a white thread that stretched
backward to a wooden spool on top of the frame.
Now mind yourself; it's going to start."
Suddenly, with a loud roar, the whole row of
spindles began to spin swiftly round, and at the
same time they rolled quite away from her.
Now 'er'1l come back !" shouted the woman
in Mary's ear.
Then the great frame, spindles and all, rolled
forward again. Mary thought it would crush her
against the wall, and she started back in alarm.
Follow 'er Follow 'er! screamed the woman.
By this Mary understood that she was to keep with
the machinery, walking after it as it rolled back,
and stepping backward as it advanced again. For-
ward and backward, forward and backward rolled
the machinery, and Mary followed it, and wiping
the dust and lint from the shining steel at every
step. The woman also walked forward and back-
ward, watching the threads, and patiently knotting
them together with a twist'of her fingers as fast as
they happened to break.
With bare feet Mary pattered over the stone floor,
carefully stepping over the iron tracks where the

wheels of the machinery rolled backward and for-
ward, and steadily wiping away the dust that con-
tinually settled on the machinery. She looked up
and down the room, and saw two little boys and
three mites of girls, just like herself, all marching
forward and back with the men and women, and
keeping pace with the busy machinery. The room
became very warm and close. The perspiration
dropped from her chin, and trickled down her bare
arms. And the noise. It was dreadful How
could she ever do this all the day long, and every
day, in the long, long weeks. Then she remem-
bered the broken cart, and she stepped out the
quicker to keep up with the roaring machinery.
Some one touched her shoulder, and turning
round she found a small boy ;',',", beside her.
He had a stone pitcher in his hand, and he stepped
backward and forward beside her, and keeping
clear of the machinery as it ran in and out.
"Have some?"
Mary gladly took the pitcher in her wet and
blackened hands, and retreated to the wall and took
a long drink of the water, for she was very warm
and thirsty.
Thank 'ee."
The boy took the pitcher, and then shouted in
her ear:
You 're too young. The 'spectorwill be look-
in' for 'ee."
The 'spector?"
"Yes. He's the perlece. Oh!-There!-He's
yon now."
The boy walked quickly away, and Mary gave
one terrified glance round the room. At the door
stood a gentleman with a cane in his hand. She
knew he could n't be one of the work-people, for
he had a silk hat and his hands were clean. He
must be the inspector. With a beating heart she
went back to her work, and began to pace back-
ward and forward after the rolling machinery. She
looked at the woman mending the threads, and
wished she could speak to her. She would tell
about the broken cart and the poor horse. Some
one touched her arm. She was startled, and for
an instant stood still; but the machinery came
against her, and she was obliged to spring back-
ward to escape it. It was the woman, and before
Mary could speak, she said:
He's wantin' ye. Go yonder, and mind what
ye say to him."
Hardly knowing what to do or say, Mary stepped
into the aisle and went toward the inspector with
trembling steps. He took her hand, and led her
away out into the round tower. Closing the door
to keep out the noise, he said:
"You are not ten years old ?"
"No, sir. I'm ten come Michaelmas."




But the government does not allow little girls to
work in the mills before they are ten."
"Oh, sir!" burst out Mary, beginning to cry,
" the horse is dead-and I had to-father-he can't
potter now."
"Don't cry! I'm not going to hurt you. I'm
the inspector, and the government sends me to
look after children like you. Do you know what
the law is ?"
No, sir; I never seen one."
The gentleman smiled, and began to stroke her
damp, yellow hair.
Well, the law says that you must not go to
work in the mills till you are ten."
Yes, sir. I 'll be ten very soon."
And even then you can work only half the time,
-a half-timer, you know. You can come at six in
the morning and work till half past eight. Then
they must give you half an hour for breakfast. At
nine you can begin again, and work till one. Then
you must go to school in the afternoon at two
o'clock and stay till half past four."
But I must work all day," said Mary, "for the
horse is dead."
But the government does not allow it."
Mary paused a moment, and then said:
Who 's the government?"
Why-the Queen."
Oh! The Queen. I 've heard o' her."
And on Saturday the work must stop at twelve.
Then the next week you must go to school in the
morning, and can come to the mill in the after-
noon at two o'clock and stay till half past five. Do
you understand?"
Yes, sir. I'll be a half-timer ?"
Yes. You '11 be a little half-timer girl. See.
Here's a bit of paper with all this printed on it,
and you can show it to your father."
And may I go back and work in the mill now?
The horse is dead, you know, sir."

SOME children roam the fields and hills,
And others work in noisy mills;
Some dress in silks and dance and play,
While others drudge their life away;
Some glow with health and bound with song,
And some must suffer all day long.

It is against the law, but as your birthday is
so near, I will excuse it. See Here 's sixpence
to take to mother."
Mary looked up with wide-open eyes, and with
the back of her grimy hand she brushed away the
tears to see the clearer. Sixpence from a police-
man! And he would n't take her away to jail!
What a good and handsome man he was She
paused and looked earnestly in his face, and then
said, slowly :
Did you ever see yon Queen ?"
"Yes; once."
And did she tell 'ee to say this to half-timer
lasses like o' me ?"
The inspector hesitated, and then he said:
Yes. She sent me to look after the little ones
in the Manchester mills."
She be good,-bean't she ?" said Mary. Then
after a little pause, she added that she must ha'
known the cart was broke and the horse was dead;
you see, yon woman's going to give me half-a-
crown, and that's half the rent. Oh may n't I go
back now?"
The inspector smiled and put a piece of paper in
her hand. She took it, and opening the door went
back once more into the roaring mill, confident
that the good Queen was looking after her welfare,
and would save her from more work than her young
limbs could bear. Half a day only! She could
do that. She had thought it was to be all day, and
had thought she certainly could never do so much,
even if she never earned anything.
Months and months have passed away, and Mary
still works in the great mill at Manchester. Soon
she will be fourteen, and a big girl, and then, the
inspector says, she can become a "full-timer ";
and in place of the poor little half-a-crown, she will
have seven or eight shillings a week. How much
that will seem to the family in the little brick house
under the railway arch !

Which is your lot, my girl and boy?
Is it a life of ease and joy ?
Ah, if it is, its glowing sun
The poorer life should shine upon.-
Make glad one little heart to-day,
And help one burdened child to play.






(See Letter-Box, lage 3o2.)










1879.] TEDDY'S' HEROES. 261








THE other day, to my great surprise, my brother
Dick walked in with his little flock of three,-Ted,
Larry and Eva,-and, giving me a hasty kiss,
requested me to keep them for a week. He and
his wife were going to stay at John's, in Boston;
but there were several cases of measles in the street,
and they did not want to run the risk of infection
for their little ones. They had lived in St. Louis
since Teddy was a year old; so, though Dick had
paid me flying visits, I had never seen the two
younger children. They, however, seemed quite
willing to stay with me, and so the arrangement
was made. Eva soon fell asleep in my arms, and
Fanny carried her up to bed. Larry soon followed,
giving me a very sleepy good-night kiss as I tucked
the blankets round him. Teddy, however, was
wide awake, and announced that since he had
grown such a big boy he never went to bed with
the children."
How old are you, Teddy ?" I asked.
'Most eight. Soon be a man, Uncle Ned says."

Who is Uncle Ned?"
Oh! mamma's brother, an' he lives with us, an'
he tells me stories 'most every evening'bout heroes.
Uncle Ned's very fond of heroes, an' so 'm I."
Teddy spoke as if heroes were some particularly
nice kind of cake.
What heroes does he tell you about, Teddy?"
I asked, suppressing a laugh.
Oh! 'Lexander, an' 'Poleon, and Caesar, an' oh!
lots; but I'll tell you what I like best, auntie,-
'bout the man who went to look for something
where it's so awful cold, you know, and did n't
come back, an' his wife got awful anxious 'bout him,
an' she got more men to go and look for him, an'
some of them did n't come back either, and Uncle
Ned says they was all heroes, 'cause they knew the
danger, an' yet they went. What was his name,
auntie, he went to look for some way to get some-
where an' the ice was too thick ?"
Sir John Franklin ?" I suggested.
That's it, auntie. I always forget it 'most.



Uncle Ned thinks there is a way, he says, an' I
mean to go an' look for it when I get big."
Heaven forbid," I thought to myself, as I
looked into the deep, earnest eyes.
I 've tried bein' a hero," Teddy went on, in a
slow, meditative tone, "but 't is n't any use; some-
thing always happens. Now, one day I memberedd
the Roman man who was going to be burned for
something he'd done, an' they thought he'd be
scared, but he was n't a bit; he held his hand right
in the fire an' burnt it hisself, 'cause it had done
wrong, he said; an' one day I thought I'd try, an'
I put my hand on the stove, 'cause I 'd pulled the
cat's tail, when mamma told me not to, an' it burnt
awful, an' I cried, an' I burnt a hole in my sleeve
too, an' mamma said I must n't ever do so again;
an' then another time I tried to make my pony go
down the steps in the garden, like Putnam, you
know, an' he threw me right off in a rose-bush, an'
papa said I was a goose,"-and Teddy looked up
indignantly. But Uncle Ned says I '11 may be
be a hero yet, an' I said I would just the first chance
I got, but it would have to be when there's nobody
round to bother."
We had quite a fall of snow that night, but in the
afternoon the sun came out brightly, and my little
nephews pleaded to go out with a sled, once belong-
ing to their father, which they had found in the
garret. Dick had told me they were used to being
out all day at home, so I let them go. Teddy
informed me as they passed the window that he
and Larry were "splorers;" so, warning them not
to "splore" into any snow-drift and get their
clothes wet, I went back to the fire and a book
which I was anxious to finish. Eva was out in the
kitchen with Dinah and Fanny, and frequently,
when a door opened, I could hear her happy little
laugh. For a time I forgot about the boys, and it
was only when I found by the failing light how
rapidly the short winter day was dying, that I went
into the kitchen to see if the boys had come in. I
could see nothing of them from the front windows.
Eva was perched on a high chair, sticking her little
hands together with dough.
"Ize matin tookies," she cried, as I entered,
showing her little pearls of teeth in a laugh.
"Laus me, miss, aint she amusin'?" said Dinah,
her black face shining with delight; "she 's for all
the world like you, missy."
Like me a good while ago, Dinah," I answered,
with a smile.
Now, missy, there aint no sense in your talking'
as if you was old. Lau, chile I lived wid your
This was Dinah's unanswerable argument against
my sense of growing years.
Dinah, I'm worried about the boys, they ought

to be home; see, it's beginning to snow again,"
and I looked anxiously out of the window.
"Now, missy, don't you worrit yesself; I see
'em only a little while ago; next time they pass
the winder I'll call 'em in."
So I went back to my sitting-room, but not to
read. .I stood by the fire wondering if I would not
better go and look for my little nephews, for the
snow was falling fast. I had just determined to go
for my wraps when I heard a rattle at the door,
little unsteady footsteps in the hall, and Teddy
half staggered into the room, saying faintly :
I aspects we 's found him, auntie."
"Found whom? Where's Larry?" I asked, hur-
rying toward him.
Oh Larry's all right; but I don't think Sir
John Franklin feels very well."
Who i" I asked, in amazement.
Why, the man that was lost, auntie. I 'mem-
bered his name as soon as I saw him. Larry an'
me found him in the snow."
Too much bewildered to ask any further ques-
tions of my eccentric nephew, I hurried to the door.
There stood Larry beside the sled, on which sat, or
rather crouched, a small old man, wretchedly
clothed, and almost insensible from the cold.
Run for Dinah, quick, Teddy," I said.
At my sudden exclamation, the bundle of rags
stirred, and a faint voice mumbled something about
the darlints," and his "feet bein' froze." The
poor creature was really almost helpless from the
cold; but, with the help of Dinah and Fanny, he
managed to hobble into the kitchen, where I left
him, sure of his receiving wise and tender treat-
ment, for Dinah was born nurse as well as cook,
and my little nephews needed mysole care. Fanny
hurried away for dry clothes and a warm bath for
Larry, who was beginning to shiver; Eva was
hungry, and demanded her tookies for supper;
and altogether for about an hour confusion reigned
in my quiet domicile. Teddy looked on with a
sort of sober gladness. He had said to me at first:
I think I '11 wait to tell you 'bout it till other
folks get done. Uncle Ned says 't is n't pleasant
when everybody talks."
And in the constant stir going on about me, I
blessed Uncle Ned for his lessons.
Once only after that, Teddy broke out with:
Wont she be glad 1"
"Who, dear?" I questioned.
His wife, you know,-Sir John Franklin's."
Then, indeed, I ventured to hint that our Hiber-
nian friend in the kitchen was not certain to be Sir
John, merely because he had been lost in the snow;
but of the impossibility of ever finding him now, I
said nothing ; let Uncle Ned tell it in his own time
and way.



After a time, Eva and Larry were both tucked
into bed, and then I wrapped Teddy in a warm
shawl, and, sitting down before the fire in my
sitting-room, I held him on my lap while he told
me the story in his own quaint way.
You see, auntie," he commenced, "when
Larry an' me went out 'to splore, you said we
must n't get into any snow-drifts, an' there was
nothing' but snow-drifts 'round here, so we went out
into the road, an' we splored a good while an' we
didn't find nothing An' then, by an' by, we

perfect, but he gave me no time for laughter,-his
whole heart was in his story.
Well, he 'd only got on a little, an' I had hold
of his hand, too, when he fell down, an' he said:
' Oh it's a widdy Bridget '11 be this night, an' the
children starvin'.' Then Larry began to cry, an'
he wanted to come home; but I told him I'd ride
him all day to-morrow if he 'd help me get Sir John
Franklin to your house; so we got him on the
sled, and it was down hill, so it was n't so awful
hard; but by an' by Larry got tired, so I asked the
man would n't he walk a little bit,

S .., ..,. .... ir ,: .. .. ,: '..i I.

.--':-'. ,'.f S I 7 ,,,1 .:l-h. l t l .... .. i ..:. .. ., .i ]. ,: l ,-,,,


came to a little narrow road that went up a hill,
an' we went up there, an' it was awful cold, an'
there I saw something' lyin' by the fence, and Larry
said it was a bear, an' he did n't care to splore any
more; but I told him if we was real splorers we
ought to splore .: .:i rh;,i-. So I went up an'
splored it, an' it was a man. So I told Larry I
'spected we'd found him now, an' we must get him
home to you; but the man was awful sleepy, and
when I poked him up he talked dreadful funny,
just like our Patsy ;.but I told him if he 'd only try
to walk a little, I 'd take him to my auntie's house,
an' then he said, so funny, Will ye 's, darlint?
Then sure I '11 be after trying.' "
Teddy's unconscious imitation of the brogue was

fell down again, an' he said: 'Ye's '1l have to leave
me, darlints; I can't go iver another step:' So we
got him on the sled again, an' I gave Larry my
mittens to put over his, 'cause his hands was cold;
but he was awful heavy coming' up from the gate,
an' Larry could n't pull much you know, an' I saw
you by the fire, an' I could n't make you hear, my
throat was so dry." And a bravely suppressed sob
finished the sentence. "An' now, auntie, after
we 'd splored such a long time it is n't him," he
said, presently.
That is true, dear," I said, quietly ; but it will
do you good all your life long to remember that you
have saved this poor man's life, my brave little
Teddy; for do you know, dear, the lane you went


on is a very lonely one; hardly a person goes over
that road all winter long, the snow drifts so there,
I only wonder how my poor little boys found their
way back."
Oh! we stuck branches in the snow, where we
were sploring, case any survivors should come along.
I could n't have found the way only for that."
These two had had a narrow escape after all,
and involuntarily I drew him closer to me.
"Please don't hold my hand so tight, Aunt
Kittie," he said, apologetically ; something
Let me see. Why, Teddy!"
All across both little hands there was a row of

cruel blisters. Teddy looked at them with equal
Why, it must have been when I gave my mit-
tens to Larry; the rope did feel awful hard."
I stooped and bound the burning little fingers.
Uncle Ned was right, Teddy; you have been
a hero after all."
Teddy opened his eyes wide.
"Have I? Wont he be glad! Why, Auntie
Kittie, is n't it funny ?-When I tried, something
always happened wrong, and now, when I was n't
thinking' 'bout it, it all just came itself."
"Bless your dear child-heart !" I thought; "that
is generally the way it comes."

(A True Story.)

BY C. B.


round the ladies' waiting-room. They had been'.

born and brought up under the shelter of the great

close under the eaves, and his
parents lived in a niche of the cornice that ran
round the ladies' waiting-room. They had been
born and brought up under the shelter of the great
iron roof that spanned the tracks, and, now they
were married, the proper thing for them to do was
to start out in the world and build a new home for
He had looked about the neighborhood and had
found an excellent place for their new house, and

as soon as the ceremony was over, he took her to
see it.
There were no cards sent out for the wedding,
but they were not needed, as every one knew them
as Mr. and Mrs. Citysparrow.
The moment the bride saw the location the
groom had selected she said she was charmed. It
was out-of-doors in the top of a long yellow build-
ing that stood near the railroad station. There
was a platform for the passengers, and a little way
off, there was an engine; but he assured her that
they had nothing to fear from these things.
And it is so much pleasanter thanliving in the
station. The air is delightful and there is a beau-
tiful view of the town."
I am glad you are pleased, my dear," said he.
" And now let us go over into that field and look
for straws."
Never did young couple have such a charming
time in, gathering materials for a house. They
looked here and they looked there, and at last, they
found just the right thing, and returned with their
bills laden to the site of their new home.
Was there ever anything more surprising? The
site had disappeared The long yellow building
on which they had intended to build had flown
away. There was nothing left but the platform
and the rails.
The young people were greatly perplexed at this
remarkable event, and sat down on the fence to
talk it over.
"Never mind, my dear, these men do very




remarkable things at times. We can soon find and away he flew to find them. He looked at
another place for our house, and, if we do not, we can several choice bits, but did not find exactly the
go home to your mother's, and to-morrow, I am right thing, and he went on into the next field

T l 1 h:1.. .. I I ,

TH-E.. .... OS A RIV..
-7S R

sure, we can find a better spot. This was not a
very good place, after all."
So they put the straws in a safe place and started
out on a prospecting tour. They went up and they
went down ; they flew here and they flew there.
Some places seemed too windy and exposed, and
others too shady, and others too sunny. At last,
they became very tired from the long search, and
the bride said:
I am sure there is nothing so nice as the place
you selected. It is nearly luncheon time. Let us
go back to the station and tell mother about it, and
hear what she says."
So they set out for the station by the way they
had come, and past the spot the groom had chosen
for their home. As they came in sight of the place,
they were astonished to see the long yellow build-
ing just where it stood in the morning.
* These men are truly remarkable creatures, my
dear. They do the strangest things in the world.
I don't pretend to understand them. No sensible
person ever did."
Never mind," replied she. There 's the very
spot you selected for our house. We have not seen
anything so nice, and perhaps, if we hurry, we can
build enough of the house to live in before dark,
and we can finish it to-morrow."
So they set to work at once to bring sticks and
straws for the new house. How .1;fii the hours
flew away while they were both busy He brought
the things and she put them in place, arranging
everything in the most solid and substantial man-
ner, for the house was to last as long as they lived.
Already it began to assume a shapely appearance,
and he mounted the fence to admire the truly
elegant structure. It needed just a few more pieces,
VOL. VI.-19.

hoping to see something better. At last, he found
a beautiful piece, just the thing for the floor of the
house. Picking it up, he went slowly back to the
house, taking the straw with him. As he came to
the fence and was about to cry out joyfully to his
wife to see the nice straw he had found, he suddenly
dropped it and uttered a cry of despair.
Oh! oh! This was terrible The long, yellow
building had again flown away. Home and wife
were gone. Poor, poor little bridegroom On his
wedding day, just as the sun was going down, to
lose all,-wife, house, everything !
Suddenly he heard a cry, and looking off .in the
distance he saw.her coming toward him as fast as
she could fly. He was so overjoyed to see her that
he thought no more of the unfinished house that
had again so strangely disappeared.
Oh cried she, as soon as she came up, I
had such an experience! Those men pulled the
yellow building away while I was in the house. I
did not notice it at first, -and before I knew it they
were taking me away from you:"
-" And what did you do ?"
I sprang out at once and flew back as fast as I
could. I was dreadfully afraid you would return
and find me gone. Ah what is it not a pity to
lose that fine'site for our house?"
Never mind that, my dear; I am so glad to
see you safe again that I don't care for the house.
Come I it is getting dark; we must go to your
mother's, and to-morrow we will find another and
a better place."
Of course, the old folks were glad to give the
young people a shelter for the night, and listened
with the greatest interest to their account of the
wonderful experiences of the day. Early the next



morning, the bride and groom set out once more to
find a place for a home. On the way, they passed
the spot they had chosen the day before, and, to
their surprise, there stood the long yellow building
and their unfinished house, safe and sound. Not
a straw or feather had been disturbed, and the bride
joyfully went inside to see how it looked.
"Do you think it safe to try this place again?"
asked he. "Something might happen, you know."
Oh my dear," said she, "it is such a pity to
lose all our labor. Perhaps it will not happen
Oh you can never tell. These men are such
peculiar creatures."
"Well, letus try it onceagain. Look! IfI had
one straw about so long it would fit in there nicely."
I found just the thing yesterday. Let us go
to get it, and let us keep together all the time, for
there is nothing those stupid men may not do."
She readily consented to this, and they both
went to work in good earnest to finish the house.
While thus engaged, a number of men and women
gathered on the long platform, but the young
couple had been accustomed to see crowds of peo-
ple all their lives, and they paid no attention to
them. They found a large straw for the house,
and, as it was heavy, they went off together to
bring it back. As they were returning, they were
astonished to find the site of their house, and the
house itself, had again flown away.
This is certainly vexatious," said he.
"I declare I am almost discouraged," cried she.
These men are perfectly unbearable."
It is rather disheartening. But you must
remember it came back yesterday. Perhaps it will
return at the same hour to-day. These men do
the strangest things; yet we must give them the
credit of being very regular. Nobody can remem-
ber when they ever changed their habits."
It was a serious matter to have two days' labor
thrown away, and in her heart the poor little bride
was very sad. Perhaps she was never to have a
home, after all? However, she did not say so to
her husband, and cheerfully agreed with him in his
plan of waiting to see if their house would come
back again.
Wonderful to tell, in about three hours, it
actually came back. They were sitting on the fence
and saw it arrive. There was some noise and con-
fusion among the people when the long yellow
building stopped. But there was nothing alarming
in that, and they went at once to examine their
runaway home. Everything was in perfect order,
and they felt they could now settle in earnest.

Suppose we finish the house and sleep in it
Oh, certainly," said she; "we shall have just
time to move in before dark."
So they worked with a will and finished the house,
and moved in just as the sun went down. It was a
charming home; the most comfortable ever seen,
and never were two young hearts more happy than
these as they entered their new house.
They retired rather early, for they were very
tired, and slept soundly till past eight o'clock in
the evening, when the bride awoke with a start.
What had happened? The house was shaking
and trembling in the strangest manner.
"It is nothing, my love. These dreadful men are
doing something; but the house seems quite safe."
Oh do look out and see what has happened."
He went to the door and looked out, and found,
to his surprise, that all the world was flying away
like mad. The trees were racing along in furious
haste. The hills and woods were spinning past
like birds, and all the buildings were performing a
kind of fancy dance. Really, it was very singular;
but the house was safe, though it shook dreadfully.
He was vastly astonished and somewhat alarmed
at this performance. But he resolved not to tell his
wife anything about it. She would only be fright-
ened. So he crept back to her side and said, bravely :
"Oh! these men are doing something. They
are strange creatures. I presume it is all right, and
we may as well go to sleep again."
The next morning they awoke and found them-
selves just where they were the night before. This
seemed to be perfectly natural, and they began
their housekeeping, and felt glad they had built
their house in such a .l1. io!. ..! hborhood, even
if the place did have occasional fits of running
away. As they stood at their door in the bright
morning sunshine, they saw a little girl stop before
their house and look up at them.
"Oh !" said she, "how funny Those birds
have built their nest on top of the car."
And so they had; and there they lived, spring,
summer and winter. There was even a whole
brood of little Citysparrows born in that nest on
wheels, and the entire family rode free ten miles to
the city and back twice every day, once in the
morning and once in the night. At first, it was a
trifle awkward for Mr. Citysparrow to have his wife
and little ones carried away at 11.30 A. M. ; but he
waited about the station or sat comfortably on the
fence till they returned at 2.45 P. M. At night, of
course, he went with them, and then their nest on
wheels was really and truly a sleeping-car.





COME with me to the park this fair day, for I
wish to show you a certain carriage and its occu-
pants, and tell you a story.
In pleasant weather, the scene is gay and grand
with multitudes hieing thither for recreation amid
country sights, odors and surroundings. The rich
and the poor of all ages and classes, afoot, on horse-
back and in carriages, make a living panorama of
the shaded walks and graded drives.
Yonder rolls the grand equipage of a millionaire;
here goes the buxom family of a groceryman, as
happy in their market-wagon as Crcesus in his
gilded chariot. Here flies a pair of gay young men
in a "fancy gig, driving like Jehu;" and following
at sober pace a phaeton containing a sad-eyed
widow in weeds, with her auburn-tressed little
daughter by her side. There gallops, on high-
bred steed, a young and handsome officer of the
U. S. A.; here limps along a forlorn wreck of a
man, once as spirited as the officer, but now rag-
ged, weary and hopeless.
But here comes the "turn-out" for which we
have been waiting: a magnificent span of dapple-
grays, by far the most powerful team we have seen;
a carriage to match, roomy and costly, but not
gaudy; a driver not in livery, as many are, but
looking just the man for his work; and such a load
as are making merry within,-every one of them a
hunchback Yes, from the crooked gentleman on
the back seat to the little fellows up by the driver,
all are hunchbacks; well dressed, happy-seeming,
but with a wistful look,-and, as they roll by, you
see in them the introduction to my little story.
Something like twenty years ago, a miserable
brick house in a back alley was the home of Archi-
bald Ramsey, a Scotch carpenter. He worked
down-town in a shop, making cornices, ]i,.-.iiJn ..
mantels, and a variety of the more elaborate parts
employed in finishing houses. Every evening he
took home pocketfuls, and often handfuls also, of
bits and ends from the shop.
These oddly shaped fragments of soft, sweet-
smelling pine furnished amusement for poor little
Alec, Mr. Ramsey's hunchback boy; and when
they had served this purpose, they were used as
kindlings in the kitchen stove.
There was a houseful of little Ramseys, of whom
Alec was the oldest, and when he was amused, so
were the others, thus giving the overworked
mother time for other duties.
Alec was sixteen years old, and not taller than

an average boy of ten. He was very much de-
formed, and had he lived in an age and country
of kings seeking dwarfs and human oddities for
"court fools or "jesters," he would have been a
prize to some iron-handed tyrant. His shoulders
were almost as high as his head, his arms hung
out loose and dangling, and the rest of his body
was shrunken and slender to a most pitiable degree.
But whoever, with a tender heart, looked into his
great, questioning eyes and noted his broad, fair
forehead and his clean, delicate hands, would soon
forget the sad shape in the nobility of the face.
I need not linger to speak of his studies, which,
all unaided, he pushed along with success; nor of
his constancy in the Sunday-school, where he was a
universal favorite. It is about his play with the bits
of pine from the shop I wish to tell you.
Many a droll pile he built on the kitchen-floor;
many a funny thing he whittled out to amuse the
little ones; many a comical toy he made and gave
away to neighboring children. Often he said, and
oftener thought, "What can I whittle that will
sell?" For only money seemed likely to bring him
the changed life for which he longed. Once, when
he sold for a few pennies a queer little pine trinket,
his father stroked his silken hair and said:
"Ah, me puir bairnie, I dinna ken but ye may
mak' your fortoon wi' your knife."
How that little piece of encouragement rang in
his ears and stimulated him to think and whittle,
whittle and think !
One genial afternoon in May, Alec crept out to
enjoy the balmy air, and, by the noise of a crowd
of urchins on a vacant lot at a little distance, was
drawn in that direction. Here he saw a colored
boy, named Jack, attempting, for the amusement
of the party, all sorts of pranks in imitation of circus
performers. Bareheaded and clothed in striped
red and yellow garments of coarse quality, the negro
lad almost seemed made of India rubber.
Alec watched his capers in amazement. Never
before had he seen such antics, or even thought
them possible. It was no wonder that the frail,
stiff-jointed little hunchback dreamed it all over
again, as he did that night.
The next morning his whittling genius took shape
from this event, and before noon he had produced
a rude pine image of the negro,-head, arms and
legs loosely hung with bits of broom-wire, and the
whole curiously arranged, so that by working a
string, it would jump, nod, turn somersaults, and



go through quite a series of contortions. With
colored pencils, of which he had some cheap speci-
mens, he blacked its head, neck, hands and feet,
reddened its hp-i, Whitened its eyes, and rudely
striped in .:i.:. ...:i red the body, all in imitation
of the little negri gymnast. Before it was com-
pleted, his younger brother, who had been with
him the day before, named it Jumping-Jack."
And in the afternoon, when he went to the vacant
lot and exhibited it to the youngsters there, it was
not only universally but boisterously hailed by the
same name. When he returned home, he brought,
instead of the Jumping-Jack, a silver half-dollar, for
which he had sold the toy to an eager, well-dressed
lad of his own age. And not only this, but he had
orders from the boys for half a dozen more, to be
made as soon as possible.
Oh, what a proud, glad heart beat within that
deformed little body of Alec's! How his temples
throbbed How elastic his step What flashing
eyes What a skein of wild and hopeful talk he
unwound to his mother So much money for his
whittling, and a chance for more and more! Castles,
sky-high and star-bright !
Never a great hero felt a victory more than Alec
felt his success. To you who are not deformed,
who are not wretchedly poor, who never longed for
advantages and comforts utterly beyond your
reach, it may seem absurd that a Jumping-Jack,
sold for half a dollar, should cause so much rejoic-
ing. But you cannot judge of the case. Alec was
loving, brave, ambitious and capable, and yet a
mere weakling. He was the eldest child; his
parents were poor and growing old; there were
several younger children, and these points he had
often thought over and over, weeping, bitterly at
his helpless state. He longed
fiercely to help in some way, to
do something useful, to earn even '
a small part of his own living. To
his eager desire, money was every-
thing, because it would buy every- .
thing. Money meant enough to
eat, a soft bed and an easy chair
for his crooked, pain-full shoulders,
a better house and easy circum- .
stances for the family. Money "
meant comfort, education, good ,
clothes, an honorable position and :
the means to do good to others.
But, above all, the silver half- S
dollar he had earned seemed like
a key to unlock the gates of depen-
dence behind which he chafed so
constantly. Besides, it was the first

Jumping-Jack ever made, and a voice seemed to
whisper dreamily that in some way it would carry
him thereafter, instead of his being left to creep so
wearily around. And the boys had hailed it with
such uproarious delight that he could not help feel-
ing he had whittled out a triumph. Who shall
wonder, then, at his elation?
But I have not told you all.
That evening he whittled, and the next day he
whittled, and before night had added to his capital
three more shining half-dollars. The next day he
doubled his money. The demand for Jumping-
Jacks increased. Boys came to the door, silver in
hand, to get what he had not time to make.
His grave Scotch parents began to hold serious
counsel over the matter. If Alec could find such
sale for these pine images in that neighborhood,
why, the whole city would require thousands; and
what would sell to delighted children in one city,
would sell elsewhere also. If they could supply the
market, a fortune might readily be made.
Scotch blood, once aroused and challenged, is
sanguine and venturesome.
But it would be uninteresting to repeat all the
details; so the rest of my story shall be brief.
Alec's Sunday-school teacher, who was a lawyer,
procured for him a patent on Jumping-Jacks of
every description; a rich old uncle of Alec's mother
built him a factory and started him in business;
and, within a year from the afternoon when the
poor lad wondered at the pranks of the colored
boy, Jumping-Jacks from the Ramsey factory were
selling in great numbers all over A ..,.!- ..4.
Truly Alec did "mak' a fortoon wi' his knife."
To school he went; into a better house, all their
own, the family moved; easier circumstances, better
health, less weariness, and ample
means for doing good, came to the
But the best point in my story is
that a fine asylum and school for
hunchbacks, free to the poor, is one
S of the noble enterprises to which
i,"- Alec has been chief contributor.
I Those deformed lads in the car-
riage yonder are from the "Ram-
I sey Asylum for Hunchbacks."
S That was Alec's carriage, and that
/ .crooked gentleman on the back
seat" was Alec himself. Every fair
afternoon he is out in this way, tak-
ing a load of "his boys," as he calls
them, and thus, as often as once a
fortnight, he gives every inmate of
the asylum a turn in the park.





(A Fairy Tale )


THE three children were a good deal frightened
when they saw where the ball had gone, and well
they might be; for it was Rumpty-Dudget's ball,
and Rumpty-Dudget himself was hiding on the
other side of the hedge.
It is your fault," said Princess Hilda to Prince
Frank; "you threw it over."
No, it 's your fault," answered Prince Frank;
" I should n't have thrown it over if you and Henry
had not chased me."
You will be punished when Tom the cat comes
home," said Princess Hilda, and that will be in
one minute, when the sun sets." For they had
spent one minute in being frightened, and another
minute in disputing.
Now, all this time, Prince Henry had been stand-
ing directly in front of the round opening in the
hedge, looking through it to the other side, where
he thought he could see the black ball lying beside
a bush. The north wind blew so strongly as almost
to take his breath away, and the spot on his chin
burnt him so that he was ready to cry with pain
and vexation. Still for all that, he longed so much
to do what he had been told not to do, that by and

by he could stand it no longer; but, just as the last
bit of the sun sank out of sight beneath the edge
of the world, he jumped through the round opening
against the north wind, and ran to pick up the ball.
At the same moment, Tom the cat came springing
across the lawn, his yellow eyes flashing, his back
bristling, and the hairs sticking straight out on his
tail until it was as big round as your leg. But this
time he came too late. For, as soon as Prince
Henry jumped through the hedge against the north
wind and ran to pick up the black ball, out rushed
Rumpty-Dudget from behind the bush, and caught
him by the chin, and carried him away to the
thousand and first corner in the gray tower. As soon
as the corner was filled, the north wind rose to a
hurricane and blew away the beautiful palace and
the lovely garden, and nothing was left but a desert
covered with gray stones and brambles. The mis-
chievous Rumpty-Dudget was now master of the
whole country.
Meanwhile, Princess Hilda and Prince Frank
were sitting on a heap of rubbish, crying as if their
hearts would break, and the cat stood beside them
wiping its great yellow eyes with its paw and look-
ing very sorrowful.



Crying will do no good, however," said the cat
at last; we must try to get poor little Henry back
Oh, where is our fairy aunt?" cried Princess
Hilda and Prince Frank. She will tell us how to
find him."
You will not see your fairy aunt," replied
Tom, "until you have taken Henry out of the gray
tower, where he is standing in the thousand and
first corner with his face to the wall and his hands
behind his back."
But how are we to do it," said Princess Hilda
and Prince Frank, beginning to cry again, "without
our fairy aunt to help us ?"
Listen to me," replied the cat, "and do what
I tell you, and all may yet be well. But first take
hold of my tail, and follow me out of this desert to
the borders of the great forest; there we can lay
our plans without being disturbed."
With these words, Tom arose and held his tail
straight out like the handle of a saucepan; the two
children took hold of it, off they all went, and in
less time than it takes to tell it, they were on the
borders of the great forest, at the foot of an im-
mensely tall pine-tree. The cat made Princess Hilda
and Prince Frank sit down on the moss that covered
the ground, and sat down in front of them with his
tail curled round his toes.
The first thing to be done," said he, is to get
the Golden Ivy-seed and the Diamond Water-
drop. After that, the rest is easy."
But where are the Golden Ivy-seed and the
Diamond Water-drop to be found ?" asked the two
One of you will have to go down to the king-
dom of the Gnomes, in the center of the earth, to
find out where the Golden Ivy-seed is," replied the
cat; "and up to the kingdom of the Air-Spirits,
above the clouds, to find out where the Diamond
Water-drop is."
But how are we to get up to the Air-Spirits, or
down to the Gnomes?" asked the children, discon-
I may be able to help you about that," answered
the cat. But while one of you is gone, the other
must stay here and mind the magic fire which I
shall kindle before we start; for if the fire goes out,
Rumpty-Dudget will take the burnt logs and blacken
Henry's face all over with them, and then we should
never be able to get him back. Do you two chil-
dren run about and pick up all the dried sticks you
can find, and -pile them up in a heap, while I get the
touch-wood ready."
In a very few minutes, a large heap of fagots had
been gathered t.....rir.:. as high as the top of
Princess Hilda's head. Meanwhile, the cat had
drawn a large circle on the ground with the tip of

his tail, and in the center of the circle was the heap
of fagots. It had now become quite dark, but the
cat's eyes burned as brightly as if two yellow lamps
had been set in his head.
Come inside the circle, children," said he,
"while I light the touch-wood."
In they came accordingly, and the cat put the
touch-wood on the ground and sat down in front of
it with his nose resting against it, and stared at it
with his flaming yellow eyes; and by and by it
began to smoke and smolder, and at last it caught
fire and burned famously.
That will do nicely," said the cat; "now put
some sticks upon it." So this was done, and the
fire was fairly started, and burned blue, red and
And now there is no time to be lost," said the
cat. Prince Frank, you will stay beside this fire
and keep it burning, until I come back with
Princess Hilda from the kingdoms of the Gnomes
and Air-Spirits. Remember that, if you let it go
out, all will be lost; nevertheless, you must on no
account go outside the circle to gather more fag-
ots, if those that are already here get used up.
You may, perhaps, be tempted to do otherwise;
but if you yield to the temptation, all will go wrong;
and the only way your brother Henry can be saved
will be for you to get into the fire yourself, in place
of the fagots."
Though Prince Frank did not much like the idea
of being left alone in the woods all night, still, since
it was for his brother's sake, he consented; but he
made up his mind to be very careful not to use up
the fagots too fast, or to go outside the ring. So
Princess Hilda and Tom the cat bid him farewell,
and then the cat stretched out his tail as straight as
the handle of a saucepan. Princess Hilda took
hold of it, and away right up the tall pine-tree
they went, and were out of sight in the twinkling
of an eye.

AFTER climbing upward for a long time, they
came at last to the tip-top of the pine-tree, which
was on a level with the clouds. The cat waited
until a large cloud sailed along pretty near them,
and then, bidding Princess Hilda hold on tight,
they made a spring together, and alighted very
cleverly on the cloud's edge. Off sailed the cloud
with them on its back, and soon brought them to
the kingdom of the Air-Spirits.
Now, Princess Hilda," said the cat, you must
go the rest of the way alone. Ask the first Spirit
you meet to show you the way to the place where
the Queen sits; and when you have found her, ask
her where the Diamond Water-drop is. But be
careful not to sit down, however much you may be




tempted to do so ; for if you do, your brother Henry
never can be saved."
Though Princess Hilda did not much like the
idea of going on -alone, still, since it was for her
brother's sake, she consented; only she made up
her mind on no account to sit down, no matter
what happened. So she bid the cat farewell, and
walked off. Pretty soon, she met an Air-Spirit,
carrying its nose in the air, as all Air-Spirits do.
Can you tell me the way to the place where the
Queen sits ?" asked Princess Hilda.
What do you want of her?" asked the Air-Spirit.
I want to ask her where the Diamond Water-
drop is," answered Princess Hilda.
She sits on the top of that large star up yon-
der," said the Air-Spirit; "but unless you can
carry your nose more in the air than you do, I don't
believe you will get her to tell you anything."
Princess Hilda, however, did not feel so much
like carrying her nose in the air as she had felt at any
time since the black spot came upon her forehead;
and she set out to climb toward the Queen's star very
sorrowfully; and all the Spirits who met her said:
See how she hangs her head! She will never
come to anything."
But at last she arrived at the gates of the star,
and walked in; and there was the Queen of the Air-
Spirits sitting in the midst of it. As soon as she
saw Princess Hilda, she said:
You have come a long way, and you look very
tired. Come here and sit down beside me."
No, your Majesty," replied Princess Hilda,
though she was really so tired that she could hardly
stand, there is no time to be lost; where is the
Diamond Water-drop?"
That is a foolish thing to come after," said the
Queen. However, sit down here and let us talk
about it. I have been expecting you."
But Princess Hilda shook her head.
Listen to me," said the Queen. I know that
you like to order people about, and to make them
do what you please, whether they like it or not.
Now, if you will sit down here, I will let you be
Queen of the Air-Spirits instead of me; you shall
carry your nose in the air, and everybody shall do
what you please, whether they like it or not."
When Princess Hilda heard this, she felt for a
moment very much tempted to do as the Queen
asked her. But the next moment she remembered
her poor little brother Henry, standing in the thou-
sand and first corner of Rumpty-Dudget's tower,
with his face to the wall and his hands behind his
back. So she cried, and said:
Oh, Queen of the Air-Spirits, I am so sorry for
my little brother that I do not care any longer to
carry my nose in the air, or to make people mind
me, whether they like it or not; I only want the

Diamond Water-drop, so that Henry may be saved
from Rumpty-Dudget's tower. Can you tell me
where it is ?"
Then the Queen smiled upon her, and said:
It is on your own cheek !"
Princess Hilda was so astonished that she could
only look at the Queen without speaking.
"Yes," continued the Queen, kindly, "you
might have searched throughout all the kingdoms
of the earth and air, and yet never have found that
precious Drop, had you not loved your little brother
Henry more than to be Queen. That tear upon
your cheek, which you shed for love of him, is the
Diamond Water-drop, Hilda; keep it in this little
crystal bottle; be prudent and resolute, and sooner
or later Henry will be free again."
As she spoke, she held out a little crystal bottle,
and the tear from Princess Hilda's cheek fell into it,
and the Queen hung it about her neck by a coral
chain, and kissed her, and bid her farewell. And as
Princess Hilda went away, she fancied she had
somewhere heard a voice like this Queen's before;
but where or when she could not tell.
It was not long before she arrived at the cloud
which had brought her to the kingdom of the Air-
Spirits, and there she found Tom the cat awaiting
her. He got up and stretched himself as she
approached, and when he saw the little crystal
bottle hanging round her neck by its coral chain,
he said:
So far, all has gone well; but we have still to
find the Golden Ivy-seed. There is no time to be
lost, so catch hold of my tail and let us be off."
With that, he stretched out his tail as straight as
the handle of a saucepan. Princess Hilda took hold
of it; they sprang off the cloud and away down
they went till it seemed to her as if they never would
be done falling. At last, however, they alighted
softly on the top of a hay-mow, and in another
moment were safe on the earth again.
Close beside the hay-mow was a field-mouse's
hole, and the cat began scratching at it with his
two fore-paws, throwing up the dirt in a great heap
behind, till in a few minutes a great passage was
made through to the center of the earth.
Keep hold of my tail," said the cat, and into
the passage they went.
It was quite dark inside, and if it had not been
for the cat's eyes, which shone like two yellow
lamps, they might have missed their way. As it
was, however, they got along famously, and pretty
soon arrived at the center of the earth, where was
the kingdom of the Gnomes.
Now, Princess Hilda," said the cat, "you must
go the rest of the way alone. Ask the first Gnome
you meet to show you the place where the King
works; and when you have found him, ask him


where the Golden Ivy-seed is. But be careful to
do everything that he bids you, no matter how
little you may like it; for, if you donot, yourbrother
Henry never can be saved."
Though Princess Hilda did not much like the
idea of going on alone, still, since it was for her
brother's sake, she consented; only she made up
her mind to do everything the King bade her, what-
ever happened. Pretty soon she met a Gnome,
who was running along on all-fours.
Can you show me the place where the King
works?" asked Princer ildr

What do you




...r 1 1. ,'' *. ~ 1 1

__ : i ,,,

I *..-


,I. . .,

SI want to ask him where the Golden Ivy-seed
is," answered Princess Hilda.
He works in that great field over yonder," said
the Gnome; but unless you can walk on.all-fours
better than you do, I don't believe he will tell you
Princess Hilda had never walked on all-fours
since the black spot came on her forehead; so she
went onward just as she was, and all the Gnomes
who met her said :
"See how upright she walks! She will never
come to anything."
But at last she arrived at the gate of the field,
and walked in; and there was the King on all-
fours in the midst of it. As soon as he saw Princess
Hilda, lie said:
Get down on all-fours this instant How dare
you come into my kingdom walking upright?"
Oh, your majesty," said Hilda, though she was
a good deal frightened at the way the King spoke,

.', .

suin necks," rep ied tie King.
Get down on all-fours at once, or else
o about your business "
i Then Princess Hilda remembered
h 11 he'cat had told her, and got down
i il- fours without a word.
'JNow listen to me," said the King. I
I -, I harness you to that plow in the place
..t ,, horse, and you must draw it up and
down over this field until the whole is
THE plowed, while I follow behind with the whip.
Come There is no time to lose."
When Princess Hilda heard this, she felt tempted
for a moment to refuse ; but the next moment she
remembered her poor little brother Henry standing
in the thousand and first corner of Rumpty-Dud-
get's tower, with his face to the wall and his hands
behind his back; so she said:
0 King of the Gnomes I am so sorry for my
little brother that I will do as you bid me, and all
I ask in return is that you will give me the Golden
Ivy-seed, so that Henry may be saved from Rumpty-
Dudget's tower."
The King said nothing, but harnessed Hilda to
the plow, and she drew it up and down over the field
until the wholewas plowed, while he followed behind
with the whip. Then he freed her from her trap-
pings, and told her to go about her business.
But where is the Golden Ivy-seed ?" asked she,
I have no Golden Ivy-seed," answered the King;
ask yourself where it is !'




. _

. 1 I


Then poor Princess Hilda's heart was broken, and
she sank down on the ground and sobbed out, quite
in despair:
Oh, what shall I do to save my little brother !"
But at that the King smiled upon her and
said :
"Put your hand over your heart, Hilda, and see
what you find there."
Princess Hilda was so surprised that she could say
nothing; but she put her hand over her heart, and
felt something fall into the palm of her hand, and
when she looked at it, behold it was the Golden
Yes," said the King, kindly; you might have
searched through all the kingdoms of the earth and
air, and yet never have found that precious seed,
had you not loved your brother so much as to let
yourself he driven like a horse in the plow for his
sake. Keep the Golden Ivy-seed in this little pearl
box; be humble, gentle and patient, and sooner or
later your brother will be free."

As he spoke, he fastened a little pearl box to her
girdle with a jeweled clasp, and kissed her, and
bade her farewell. And as Princess Hilda went
away, she fancied she had somewhere heard a voice
like this King's before; but where or when she
could not tell.
It was not long before she arrived at the mouth
of the passage by which she had descended to the
kingdom of the Gnomes, and there she found Tom
the cat awaiting her. He got up and stretched
himself as she approached, and when he saw the
pearl box at her girdle, he said:
"So far, all goes well; but now we must see
whether or not Prince Frank has kept the fire
going; there is no time to be lost, so catch hold of
my tail and let us be off."
With that, he stretched out his tail as straight
as the handle of a saucepan ; Princess Hilda took
hold of it, and away they went back through the
passage again, and were out at the other end in the
twinkling of an eye.

(To be continued.)





THE violin is a wonderful instrument in the hands
of a master. In its power of expression, its purity
and fineness of tone, it ranks next to the cultivated
human voice. There have been many famous per-
formers on this instrument, but Paganini stands
alone the most wonderful violinist the world has
ever heard. And he had won this fame before he
was sixteen years old.
Nicholas Paganini was born at Genoa, Italy,
February 18, 1784. When Nicholas was four years
old he had the measles. But this usually mild
disease took, in his case, a very violent form, so
that the poor little fellow was thought to be dying,
and even, at one time, dead. For a whole day he
lay motionless, and to all appearance lifeless. But
the world was not to be deprived of his wonderful
genius; although, if he had died then, he would
have been spared a life of great ill.:. ,i .
Before he was well over this sickness, and before
he could speak plainly, his father-who was very
severe with him-put a violin into his tiny hands,
and made him practice upon it from morning till
night. Sitting at his parent's feet on a little stool,
Paganini obediently scraped away, learning his
scales and intervals. He entered into the work
cheerfully, and took great interest in his studies,
but this did not lessen his father's rigor. The
slightest fault was punished severely. Sometimes,
food was denied the little fellow, in punishment for
a mistake which any learner might have made.
The delicate, sensitive constitution of the child was
injured beyond repair by such treatment.

His mother, also ambitious for her son, worked
upon his imagination and excited him to ever-
renewed exertions by telling him that an angel had
appeared to her in a vision, and had assured her
that he should outstrip all competition as a per-
former on the violin.
Even at this early age the bent of Paganini's
mind was toward the marvelous and extraordinary,
-that is, he did not merely imitate those who
before his time had played the violin, but struck
out new ways for himself, making his instrument a
greater puzzle to the unlearned than ever it had
been before; and he astonished his parents, and
received their hearty plaudits when, in departing
from the common methods, he produced entirely
new effects. His musical instinct seemed to have
been only sharpened and strengthened by. the close
application imposed upon him.
Soon, the musical knowledge of the elder Paga-
nini became insufficient for the growing abilities of
his son, and other teachers were procured.
At eight years of age the little Nicholas per-
formed in the churches, and at private musical
parties, upon a violin that looked nearly as large
as himself." He also composed, at this time, his
first Violin Sonata." A year afterward he made
what was considered his first public appearance, or
debut, in the great theater of Genoa, at the request
of two noted singers,-Marchesi and Albertinotti.
Paganini's father took him, about this time, to
see the celebrated composer, Rolla, who lived at
Parma, hoping to obtain for the boy the benefit of



Rolla's instruction for a little while. But the com-
poser was sick, and could not see his visitors. The
room in which they were seated was next to the
sick man's bed-chamber, and it so happened that
he had left his violin there, together with the copy
of a new work he had just finished. Little Nicholas,
at his father's request, took up the violin to see
what the music was like. He began at the begin-
ning and executed the entire work at sight without
a single mistake, and so well that the sick composer
arose from his bed that he might see what master-
hand had given him so agreeable a surprise. Rolla,

with an elder brother, and at fifteen he ran away
and began to travel on his own account. Relieved
from the control of his too-exacting father, his mind
reacted from its long slavery, and he fell into bad
ways of living. But after a while his affection for
his father led him to return home. Having saved
a sum of money equal to about fifteen hundred
dollars, he now offered a portion of it to his parents.
But his exacting father demanded the whole, and
Paganini, to keep peace, gave up the greater part
of the hard-earned money.
The young man nowbegan another tour, visiting


on hearing the object of their visit, assured the
father that he could add nothing to the young
artist's acquirements, and recommended other
noted teachers.
Nicholas and his father then went about the
country through the principal cities of Lombardy,
after which they returned to Genoa, where the
youthful performer was again subjected to those
daily toils which had been forced upon him before
with such heartless rigor; but this bondage was
not to be prolonged.
At fourteen he was allowed to go on a short tour

many parts of Italy, and everywhere meeting with
unbounded success. But I am very sorry to say
that he allowed his great popularity to turn his
head, so that he became very arrogant, head-strong,
and, in various ways, led an unworthy life. Intem-
perance soon was added to his infirmities, and he
was even imprisoned for a time on account of
troubles caused by his wild excesses.
Paganini possessed a generous and sympathetic
nature, as the following anecdote plainly proves:
One day, while walking in the streets of Vienna,
Paganini saw a poor boy playing upon a violin,




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4;' 'i.




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and, on entering into conversation with him,
learned that he maintained his mother and a num-
ber of little brothers and sisters by what he picked
up as a traveling musician. Paganini at once gave
him all the money he had about him; and then,
taking the violin, began to play, and, when a great
crowd had gathered and become spell-bound by
his wonderful playing, he pulled off his hat and
made a collection, which he gave to the poor boy
amid the acclamations of the multitude.
There are four strings on a violin, as every one
knows, and ordinary players find it necessary to
use them all; but Paganini astonished the world
by his performances on only one string,-the fourth,
or largest. Upon this he could produce three per-
fect octaves, including all the harmonic sounds,
and from it he brought forth the sweetest melodies.

After traveling through many countries, creating
the greatest wonder and admiration wherever he
went, he returned to his native land. He suffered
all his life from ill health, and although he had
"become a very wealthy man, his last days were sad
enough ; for he was greatly troubled with law-suits
and ill-health.
As one of his biographers says: the precious
flame of life was too dearly expended on a perfec-
tion that allowed nothing else to be perfected. In
becoming the absolute master of his instrument, he
became its slave. But the success of his life's pur-
pose was complete. He accomplished his one
object, and history declares him to have been the
greatest of all violinists, past or present. He died at
Nice on the 27th of May, 1840, leaving a fortune
equal to nearly three-quarters of a million dollars.



[The Elder Edda is collection of ancient ballads containing an account of the gods of Scandinavian and
German mythology. It was made by the native priests of Iceland, who embraced Christianity about the end of
the tenth century. Asenheim was the country of the gods, and Asgard was its principal city. Odin was the
chief of the gods. Thor was the strongest of all the gods, and fought and conquered the giants with his great
hammer. Baldur was the beautiful god of light and summer who was slain by the malice of Loki, an evil spirit.
Henir was sometimes the companion of Odin and Loki on their clandestine visits to the earth.]

IN the Elder Edda I read it,
That volume of wonder lore
How Heimdall, a god of credit,
Was watchman at Heaven's door.

The sight of his eye was keenest
Of all in Asgard's towers,
For he saw, when earth was greenest,
Pale Autumn amid the flowers.

His ear was the best at hearing
Of all above or below;
When the Spring-time's step was nearing,
He heard the grasses grow.

He heard the talk of the fishes
Deep down in the silent sea,
And even the unbreathed wishes
Of chick in its shell heard he.

He heard the feathers growing,
And wool on the old sheep's back,
And even the light. cloud snowing
Far off on the sunbeam's track.

He knew what birds are thinking
That brood o'ei the crowded nest,
Ere their fledgeling's eyes are blinking,
And the song is warm in the breast.

And why were his senses keener
Than all in that magic clime,
Than Odin, and Thor, and Haenir,
And Baldur of Asenheim ?

I think-it is only guessing-
Heimdall was loving as wise,
And Nature who bent in blessing
Anointed his ears and eyes.

And should we but love undoubting,
Perchance, ah! who can tell,
We might hear the corn-blade sprouting,
And the tiny leaf-bud swell.


[ sat beside the
St window of her
S .I -:lm, a large atlas
i.on her lap, and on
.,r a book made of
;.: -.-'-. '' -:nty-four sheets of
I,- i. I er-papersewed to-
S_.her. On the outer
ge was written,
S"My Journal, I86-,"
....I opening it, page
,or page of closely
I tten,crampedlines
:.-..,ld be seen, in
ich Margy had de-
'( 'led various scenes
and incidents of her
daily life and chronicled sundry impressions.
Little Miss Margy, aged twelve, was not an un-
pleasing object as she sat there with her bonny
brown hair and pink cheeks, and her room was
neat and inviting after a fashion, although the
carpet was only rag, the chairs were cane-seated,
and the wash-stand was old-fashioned, with just
enough space on it for bowl and pitcher, soap-dish and
water-mug. Then there were an ancient rocking-
chair, and two white-counterpaned beds,-one for
the occupancy of Margy and her year-older sister,
Bib; the other, the nest where Flaxie and
Frizzle, the two smaller children, slept "..
nightly; and a red-covered table, strewed i
with books and papers, stood in the center
of the room. Margy, who had a fondness -
for scribbling, used oftentimes to sit up
here and write. She could express her
thoughts quite fluently with the pen, for a IPe
little girl, and therefore cherished the idea
that she was literary, and confidently ex- -.
pected to write a book, or a dozen of them,
some day.
Meanwhile, she composed rhyming lines,
which she called poetry, about trees and
bees, clouds and shrouds, blows and snows,
plumes and flumes," and so on, which
effusions she read and re-read with great
satisfaction, and then locked up in her drawer. -
Other times, descending to plainer prose, she
linked together a profusion of adjectives, and
told of glancing, dancing sunbeams; roaring, rush-
ing cataracts; rustling, whispering leaves; and de-
picted characters quite different from any in real life.

Bib, who knotted her forehead, and fretted over
her school compositions, listened with jealous
admiration to Margy's stories, and tender-hearted
Flaxie wept sorely as she listened eagerly to the
pathetic adventures of some of the characters.
However, for the past couple of months, Margy
had taken to writing something which she concealed
determinedly from Bib's prying eyes, and which
she grandly told Flaxie she could not read aloud,
for it was her journal."
She had read several memoirs, the fair subjects
of which had kept journals, and these diaries, after
their deaths, had fallen into the hands of their
friends, and had been read and wept over, the lovely
characters of the lost ones so shining forth from
every page that, too late, it was known that they
had never been truly appreciated.
Well, probably, Margery would die young,-she
sometimes felt as if she would,-and in that case
what a precious legacy her family would consider
her journal!
Therefore, with such ideas in her curly pate, it
is no wonder she wrote as if for survivors to read,
and instead of keeping a sensible diary, good for
reference, if she needed it, scribbled away in a
bombastical, adjective-y manner, and never made
herself on paper the real faulty Margy she actually

.' I.... .


Looking over her shoulder, we can see what she
is writing.
June 6th.-0, what a lovely, balmy day I The






air is full of the fragrant scent of roses; the oriole
chants dulcet strains in the maples; fleecy clouds
float in the cerulean blue; the whole world is a
poem. I have half a mind to write a little poem
here, but, dear Journal, it would only blot your
snowy pages. I wrote a poem on Baby Pearl yes-
terday. Mother liked it so much that she put it
away and said she meant to keep it'; and father
patted my head and said 'I was a rhymer.'
'It 's jingle-dingle, is n't it, Peggy ?' he
said. But who could help being inspired
by Baby Pearl? She is such a cherub! I
Such delicate tints and charming curves,
such violet, long-lashed eyes Such inno-
cence and tender trustfulness !"
Just here the pen, traveling from the
ink-stand, remained suspended, for
mother's voice was heard at the foot of
the stair calling "Margy!" and, sad to i.
tell, Margy's answering "Ma'am !" was
snapped out in a very cross way.
I want you to come down for a while il
and rock Pearl to sleep."
Oh, dear," said Margy, vexedly, "it
's always ''tend that baby,' and putting
her journal in the atlas, and the atlas
under the feather-bed,-for Bib would,
when chance offered, prowl around to
find the mysterious journal,-she un-
graciously obeyed the summons.
After all, the June morning was n't so
d.-i 1.ii,,1 as she had imagined.
It was the weekly wash-day, and Mrs.
Finnigan was rubbing away in the kitchen,
from which came the penetrating odor of
soap-suds. Mother was hurried and tired,
and Pearl lay wide-awake in her cradle,
undecided whether to break out into a
rebellious wail, or resign herself to the
course of events.
I would not have called you down, dear," said
mother, "but I must get the dinner, and Pearl has
to be put to sleep."
Why could n't Bib rock her, or Flaxie ?" asked
"Bib is practicing," dear.
Margy rocked the cradle very discontentedly.
She quite failed to be inspired by Pearl's long
lashes or delicate tints and charming curves, now.
Pearl was only a painfully wide-awake baby, who
complainedin iiur.!,! iil.: murmurs of the numer-
ous trials of infant life, and amused herself by
stretching forth fat' fists and dimpled arms, and
vainly trying to reach the cradle-top.
It seemed a long, long time before she showed
the slightest inclination to close her eyes on
outer scenes, and just as she did, who should

come trotting heedlessly in but three-year-old
"Hush!" whispered Margy, with a warning
gesture; but Frizzle always failed to heed admoni-
tions. "Ba-bye! ba-bye!" she called, lovingly,
and Baby, just on the verge of dream-land, heard
the call, and opened sudden, bright eyes to the
little sister's face.


Margy wanted to cry, out of sheer annoyance.
You are a naughty, bad girl!" she cried, hotly.
"Mother, here's Frizzle, who came in and woke
Pearl on purpose. I wish you would punish her."
Me never waked Ba-bye on purpose," protested
the indignant Frizzle. Margy 's cross, ugly girl.
Baby is so glad I come, and I just called her
Mother, seeing how matters stood, madetpeace
by coming in and leading away Frizzle, who trotted
contentedly off, willing to go off anywhere \ith
"her good, nice mamma," and Margy was left to
brood over the new annoyance.
Oh, dear !" she sighed, petulantly; that hate-
ful Frizzle! And now I'11 have to begin all over
again. Shut your eyes, Baby. By-low, Baby;
by-low !"


Oh, how disagreeable that soap-suds odor was !
How faded and worn the carpet looked now that
the sun shone full upon it! And the bureau had not
been dusted this morning, and some one had
dragged the table-cloth all to one side It was too
bad that mother never made Bib tidy up things.
Everything of that sort is left for me to do,"
complained Margy, finding fresh cause for ill-feel-
ing, and then, looking down at Baby, she saw to
her relief that she was actually asleep. Therefore,
fastening the gauze netting carefully over her, she
stole softly away up to her sanctum, as she was fond
of calling her room. Once there, she took her
journal from its repose under the bed, and again
began her jottings.
-- Dear Journal, that dash stands for half
an hour's absence, during which time I have been
down rocking Pearl to sleep. Mother thinks I have
more patience than Bib to 'tend her, and always
calls me to do it. And, of course, one must 'tend
to duty. Pearl was n't one bit sleepy, but was just
in the mood for a grand frolic. She must have
thought it a hardship to be allowed no will of her
own in the matter. However, sleep at last con-
quered the citadel, the blue-veined lids closed and
their long lashes swept the downy cheeks, and she
lay a sweet picture of unconscious innocence. Dar-
ling Pearl !
I cannot keep my eyes from wandering from
this page, the sunshine rests so brightly on the
hills. There are spots, however, on the mountains,
shadows of clouds.
Alas! everything has its shadows. Into each
life some rain must fall.' Mrs. Finnigan is down
in the yard, hanging out the clothes. Poor woman,
her husband is very unkind to her, and her boys
are wild, dissolute creatures! I do pity her. I
feel so sorry for any one whose life is checkered.
It must be terrible to be unkindly treated. Love
ought to be the ruling spirit of our lives. Kindness
should mark our deeds to all about us, unselfish-
ness crowil with its garlands our acts."
Just here, the door came open with a bang, and
Bib came flying in like a small whirlwind.
0, Mi, I am going to Mrs. Tozzle's with
Pa, and I must change my.dress, and put on a
clean collar! Dear me Where's my other dress
and clean skirt? Hurry, and hook me up; Pa's
'mostteady!" Bib was looking in the top bureau
drawer, now, and energetically tossing things about.
Dear me, I have n't one clean collar here !
What's become of mine ? Oh, I know, I never put
my soiled ones in the wash last week! Lend me
one, Marge. Here, I '11 take this one with lace on !"
Margy, standing at Bib's shoulder, looked vexed
You do muss things up so," she said, sharply.

" You are too careless to live, and you might keep
your own collars. You have more than I have,
but you never know where to find your things."
Above all things Bib hated reproof, especially
from her younger sister, and the flavor of truth in
the speech touched her.
Don't trouble yourself to find fault, missie,"
she said, tossing her curly head; we all know
who thinks herself a paragon and gives pieces of
her mind' away every chance she can get. If
there's one thing I hate, though, it is mean stingi-
ness. Keep your old collar! If Pa asks why I
wear a dirty one, I 'll tell him why."
Margy's face flushed hotly as she tossed her the
collar. There, take it!"
Give a dog a bone," chanted Bib, pinning it
on with alacrity. "Where 's my gloves? There,
I forgot, my parasol is broken! Will you let me
take yours?"
"No," snapped Margy.
Bib did not insist.
Sit and hold it over your own head in the
room," she called as she ran down the stairs.
Margy walked slowly over to the closet, and took
from behind a pile of sheets on the shelf a blue-silk
parasol. Then, as if going to her own execution,
went out into the hall, and leaning over the banis-
ters, called Bib !"
But no answer came, and, a moment after, she
heard the rattle of wheels down the road.
Very well," she said; like as not she would
have broken it, and faded it all out."
Mother had bought them each a new one only a
fortnight before, and Bib had carelessly left hers on
a chair where it had bedn sat upon and broken,
since which accident Margy had been in a state of
chronic expectation that she would ask for the loan
of hers. Well, she had asked it and been refused;
but Margy did not feel exactly comfortable as she
put it away. Hot tears fell from her eyes as she
tidied up both her own and Bib's half of the drawer.
".Bib musses up everything so," she said. It's
just carelessness that makes her lose and break her
things. IfI lend once, I might a dozen times. Let
her call me mean and stingy, and tell Pa, too !-
Flaxie, what do you want'? "-six-year-old Flaxie,
with her sunny hair and sweet blue eyes, had come
in and was looking contentedly into the drawer.
"Fixing your things?" said Flaxie, mildly.
" Will you please give me a picture?" pointing to
a pasteboard box, filled with engravings and all
sorts of pictures that Margy had cut out and was
hoarding up.
She meant to decorate a table with them some
day after a fancy of her own. She intended to paste
them on it and varnish them over, and thought she
would then possess a work of art equal to a mosaic.



"No, I can't give you one, Flaxie, for I want
Well, just let me look at them, please, Margy,"
pleaded patient Flaxie; I'll be very careful; I
wont tear them "
No, not now," answered Margy, who hated to
have them disturbed. Why can't you run down-
stairs and play with Frizzle, like a good girl !"

this morning. Another mortal gone Out under
the grasses and the daisies and the blue sky they
will soon lay her to rest. The winds will chant a
requiem over her grave ; the stars will keep nightly
watch above her.
How sweet to be thus at rest When I die,
and my pale hands are folded calmly over a pulse-
less heart, I want them to bury me in a sunny spot,

The disappointed child turned meekly away, and
again Margy was free to take up her journal.
"Dear, dear !" she wrote; it is all interrup-
tion this morning Bib just rushed in to fix to go
with father to Mrs. Tozzle's I do wish Bib was
more orderly. I lent her a collar, and I would
have loaned her my parasol, but she was gone
when I called her. But these things are too unim-
portant to write about. There goes Mr. Morrell,
the undertaker, to Mrs. Riggs's. Her mother died
VOL. VI.-20.

where the birds trill sweet melodies and green
branches wave. Over my head I want them to
plant stainless roses, and on the marble head-stone
I want graven the simple words, At Rest !'"
Ding-dong !" sounded the dinner-bell, and
Margy, not unpleased to hear its summons, sprang
up with alacrity, laid her journal on the table, as
Bib was not there to peep within it, and started
hastily for the stairs. But, somehow or other, she
never knew how, her foot slipped on the top step,


and she went rolling and bumping down the long,
narrow flight, and then lay, a little, quiet heap at
the bottom !
"Oh," cried her affrighted mother, hastening
with colorless face into the hall, "what is the
matter ?"
Flaxie and Frizzle, filled with consternation, ap-
peared on the scene and lifted up wailing voices,
and Mrs. Finnigan, all soap-suds and alarm, picked
up the still form.
Margy is killed !" sobbed Flaxie.
Gone deaded !" screamed Frizzle.
Hush, hush !" said mother, as she helped Mrs.
Finnigan bear the hurt child to the lounge.
A few moments after, Margy opened bewildered
eyes on the frightened group. The pungent smell
of the camphor with which her mother was bathing
her head, the children's cries, the pale faces of the
women, terrified her, and a sudden, woful thought
smote her like a dagger !
Oh, mother," she cried, wildly, "I fell! Did I
kill myself? Will I die? Oh, I don't want to die!
I can't die, mother "
The dear mother-arms pressed her closely; the
mother-voice, hopeful and cheery, re-assured her.
"No, r.1, dear, you are not badly hurt, only
stunned somewhat, thank the Lord."
"Yes, yees may well say 'thank the Lord,'"
said Mrs. Finnigan, wiping her eyes. "Ef'it
hadent bin for his mercy, the swate darlin' might
have been kilt entirely," and the good-hearted
woman went thankfully back to her toil.
After this, Flaxie and Frizzle ceased their out-
cries; mother bathed Margy's swollen shoulder,
and in a short time she felt able to eat her dinner,
and reply in the negative to the children's solicit-
ous remark, Is she hurted very much now ? "
She limped stiffly up to her room a while later,
intent on finishing a sack for Baby Pearl, and,
going to the table for her work-basket, could not
fail to see the open journal, lying .beside it. She
read her last sentimental effusion with a burning
blush and an impatient ejaculation. She remem-

bered now that in her moment of agonizing fear
she had had no thoughts of green grasses waving
over a sunny hillock, or stainless roses pressing a
white head-stone, or being "at rest!" She re-
membered only the awful pang that smote her
when she thought she must go away from father
and mother, from Flaxie and Frizzle and Pearl,-
go away all alone out of her warm, breathing life
into the presence of her Maker !
I have n't written the real truth about any-
thing," she said, leaning over the pages, and
glancing contemptuously over her "dearjournal."
" Now, to-day, I never said I was mad about put-
ting Pearl to sleep. Did n't want to lend Bib any-
thing; was selfish to Flaxie, and-that stuff about
dying I know one thing, I sha' n't keep a journal
any more,-not such a one, anyway,-and Bib can
hunt around for this now until she is tired !"
"What is burning?" asked the mother, a little
anxiously,-as she came upstairs a while later to see
how Margy fared.
"'Nothing; I've only been making a bonfire of
my journal," answered Margy, looking with a
blush toward some charred remnants in the wash-
"I was sorry to-day when Margy told me she
had burned her journal," said the minister's wife to
him as they sat alone that evening, all the children,
from Bib down, being tucked securely into bed.
" She once or twice read me some pretty extracts
from it, one especially, about a sunset. I always
thought if anything happened to her I should like
to keep the book as a memento."
The minister smiled a queer little smile. Per-
haps he might have kept a journal once, but of that
we are not presumed to know.
Margy's burnt journal is no loss to her, dear,"
he said, mildly, "for sometimes there is a vast dif-
ference between jottings and doings."
The mother actually looked puzzled as she
touched the cradle-rocker with her foot; but I
think that Margy, had she heard, would have under-
stood. Don't you?







I TOOK hold of the boat, and pulled the bow up
on the beach. Mr. Chipperton looked around at
Why, how do you do ? said he.
For an instant I could not answer him, I was so
angry, and then I said:
"What did you- ? How did you come to
take our boat away ?"
"Your boat! he exclaimed, Is this your
boat? I did n't know that. But where is my
boat? Did you see a sail-boat leave here It is
very strange! remarkably strange! I don't know
what to make of it."
"I know nothing about a sail-boat," said I.
" If we had seen one leave here, we should have
gone home in her. Why did you take our boat?"
Mr. Chipperton had now landed.
"I came over here," he said, "with my wife
and daughter. We were in a sail-boat, with a
man to manage it. My wife would not come
otherwise. We came to see the light-house, but I
do not care for light-houses,-I have seen a great
many of them. I am passionately fond of the
water. Seeing a small boat here which no one was
using, I let the man conduct my wife and Corny-
my daughter-up to the light-house, while I took
a little row. I know the man. He is very trust-
worthy. He would let no harm come to them.
There was a pair of oars in the sail-boat, and I took
them, and rowed down the creek, and then went
along the river, below the town; and, I assure
you, sir, I went a great deal farther than I intended,
for the tide was with me. But it was n't with me

coming back, of course, and I had a very hard
time of it. I thought I never should get back.
This boat of yours, sir, seems to be an uncom-
monly hard boat to row."
"Against a strong tide, I suppose it is," said I;
"but I wish you had n't taken it. Here I have
been waiting, ever so long, and my friend- "
"Oh I'm sorry, too," interrupted Mr. Chip-
perton, who had been looking about, as if he
expected to see his sail-boat somewhere under the
trees. I can't imagine what could have become
of my boat, my wife and my child. If I had staid
here, they could not have sailed away without my
knowing it. It would even have been better to
go with them, although, as I said before, I don't
care for light-houses."
Well," said I, not quite as civilly as I generally
speak to people older than myself, "your boat has
gone, that is plain enough. I suppose, when your
family came from the light-house, they thought
you had gone home, and so went themselves."
That 's very likely," said he,-" very likely,
indeed. Or, it may be that Corny would n't wait.
She is not good at waiting. She persuaded her
mother to sail away, no doubt. But now, I sup-
pose you will take me home in your boat, and the
sooner we get off the better, for it is growing late."
You need n't be in a hurry, said I, "for I am
not going off until my friend comes back. You
gave him a good long walk to the other end of the
"Indeed!" said Mr. Chipperton. How was
that ?"
Then I told him all about it.
Do you think that the flat-boat is likely to be
there yet ?" he asked.


It's gone long ago said I; "and I 'm afraid
Rectus has lost his way, either going there, or
coming back."
I said this as much to myself as to my com-
panion, for I had walked back a little, to look up
the path. I could not see far, for it was growing
dark. I was terribly worried about Rectus, and
would have gone to look for him, but I was afraid
that if I left Mr. Chipperton, he would go off with
the boat.
Directly Mr. Chipperton set up a yell.
Hi hi hi! he cried.
I ran down to the pier, and saw a row-boat
Hi! cried Mr. Chipperton, come this way !
Come here! Boat ahoy!"
We 're coming," shouted a man from the boat.
"Ye need n't holler for us."
And in a few more strokes the boat touched
land. There were two men in it.
Did you come for me?" cried Mr. Chipperton.
"No," said the man who had spoken, "we
came for this other party, but I reckon you can
come along."
For me ? said I. "Who sent you?"
"Your pardner," said the man. "He came
over in a flat-boat, and he said you was stuck here,
for somebody had stole your boat, and so he sent
us for you."
"And he's over there, is he !" said I.
Yes, he's all right, eatin' his supper, I reckon.
But is n't this here your boat? "
Yes, it is," I said, and I 'm going home in
it. You can take the other man."
And without saying another word, I picked up
my oars, which I had brought from the bushes,
jumped into my boat, and pushed off.
"I reckon you 're a little riled, aint ye?" said
the man, but I made him no answer, and left him
to explain to Mr. Chipperton his remark about
stealing the boat. They set off soon after me,
and we had a race down the creek. I was "a
little riled," and I pulled so hard that the other
boat did not catch up to me until we got out into
the river. Then it passed me, but it did n't get to
town much before I did.
The first person I met on the pier was Rectus.
He had had his supper, and had come down to
watch for me. I was so angry, that I would not
speak to him. He kept by my side, though, as I
walked up to the house, excusing himself for going
off and leaving me.
You see, it was n't any use for me to take that
long walk back there to the creek. I told the men
of the fix we were in, and they said they 'd send
somebody for us, but they thought I 'd better come
along with them, as I was there."

I had a great mind to say something here, but
I did n't.
It would n't have done you any good for me to
come back through the woods, in the dark. The
boat would n't get over to you any faster. You
see, if there 'd been any good at all in it, I would
have come back-but there was n't."
All this might have been very true, but I remem-
bered how I had sat and walked and thought and
worried about Rectus, and his explanation did me
no good.
When I reached the house, I found that our
landlady, who was one of the very best women in
all Florida, had saved me a splendid supper-hot
and smoking. I was hungry enough, and I
enjoyed this meal, until there did n't seem to be a
thing left. I felt in a better humor then, and I
hunted up Rectus, and we talked along as if
nothing had happened. It was n't easy to keep
mad with Rectus, because he did n't get mad him-
self. And, besides, he had a good deal of reason
on his side.
' It was a lovely evening, and pretty nearly all the
people of the town were out-of-doors. Rectus and
I took a walk around the "Plaza,"-a public square
planted thick with live-oak and pride-of-India
trees, and with a monument in the center with a
Spanish inscription on it, stating how the king of
Spain once gave a very satisfactory charter to the
town. Rectus and I agreed, however, that we
would rather have a pride-of-India tree, than a
charter, as far as we were concerned. These trees
have on them long bunches of blossoms, which
smell deliciously.
Now, then," said I, I think it's about time
for us to be moving along. I 'm beginning to feel
about that Corny family as you do."
Oh, I only objected to the girl," said Rectus,
in an off-hand way.
"Well, I object to the father," said I. I think
we've had enough, anyway, of fathers and daugh-
ters. I hope the next couple we fall in with will
be a mother and a son."
What 's the next place on the bill?" asked
Well," said I, we ought to take a trip up
the Oclawaha River. That 's one of the things to
do. It will take us two or three days, and we can
leave our baggage here and come back again.
Then if we want to stay, we can, and if we don't,
we need n't."
"All right," said Rectus. "Let 's be off to-
The next morning, I went to buy the Oclawaha
tickets, while Rectus staid home to pack up our
hand-bags, and, I believe, to sew some buttons on
his clothes. He could sew buttons on so strongly



that they would never come off again, without
bringing the piece out with them.
The ticket-office was in a small store, where you
could get any kind of alligator or sea-bean com-
bination that the mind could dream of. We had
been in there before to look at the things. I found
I was in luck, for the store-keeper told me that it
was not often that people could get berths on the
little Oclawaha steamboats without engaging them
some days ahead; but he had a couple of state-
rooms left, for the boat that left Pilatka the next
day. I took one room as quick as lightning, and
I had just paid for the tickets when Mr. Chipperton
and Corny walked in.
How d 'ye do?" said he, as cheerfully as if he
had never gone off with another fellow's boat.
" Buying tickets for the Oclawaha?"
I had to say yes, and then he wanted to know
when we were going. I was n't very quick to
answer; but the store-keeper said:
He 's just taken the last room but one in the
boat that leaves Pilatka to-morrow morning."
"And when do you leave here to catch that
boat," said Mr. Chipperton.
This afternoon,-and stay all night at Pilatka."
"Oh father! father!" cried Corny, who had
been standing with her eyes and ears wide open,
all this time, "let's go let's go !"
"I believe I will," said Mr. Chipperton,-" I
believe I will. You say you have one more room.
All-right. I'll take it. This will be very pleasant,
indeed," said he, turning to me. It will be quite
a party. It's ever so much better to go to such
places in a party. We 've been thinking of going
for some time, and I'm so glad I happened in here
now. Good-bye. We'll see you this afternoon at
the depot."
I did n't say anything about being particularly
glad, but just as I left the door, Corny ran out
after me.
Do you think it would be any good to take a
fishing-line?" she cried.
Guess you'd betterr" I shouted back, and then
I ran home, laughing.
Here are the tickets!" I cried out to Rectus,
and we 've got to be at the station by four o'clocbl
this afternoon. There's no backing out, now."
Who wants to back out ?" said Rectus, looking
up from his trunk, into which he had been diving:
Can't say," I answered. "But I know one
person who wont back out."
Who's that?"
Corny," said I.
Rectus stood up.
Cor- !" he exclaimed.
"Ny," said I, "and father and mother. They took
the only room left,-engaged it while I was there."

Can't we sell our tickets ?" asked Rectus.
Don't know," said I. But what's the good?
Who 's going to be afraid of a girl,-or a whole
family, for that matter. We 're in for it now."
Rectus didn't say anything, but his expression
We had studied out this trip the night before,
and knew just what we had to do. We first went
from St. Augustine, on the sea-coast, to Tocoi, on
the St. John's River, by a railroad fifteen miles
long. Then we took a steamboat up the St. John's
to Pilatka, and the next morning left for the Ocla-
waha, which runs into the St. John's about twenty-
five miles above, on the other side of the river.
We found the Corny family at the station, all
right, and Corny immediately informed me that
she had a fishing-line, but did n't bring a pole,
because her father said he could cut her one, if it
was needed. He did n't know whether it was
" throw-out" fishing or not, on that river.
There used to be a wooden railroad here, and the
cars were pulled by mules. It was probably more
fun to travel that way, but it took longer. Now
they have steel rails and everything that a regular
grown-up railroad has. We knew the engineer,
for Mr. Cholott had introduced us to him one day,
on the club-house wharf. He was a first-rate fellow,
and let us ride on the engine. I did n't believe, at
first, that Rectus would do this; but there was only
one passenger car, and after the Corny family got
into that, he did n't hesitate a minute about the
We had a splendid ride. We went slashing
along through the woods the whole way, and as
neither of us had ever ridden on an engine before,
we made the best of our time. We found out what
every crank and handle was for and kept a sharp
look-out ahead, through the little windows in the
cab. If we had caught an alligator on the cow-
catcher, the thing would have been complete. The
engineer said there used to be alligators along by
the road, in the swampy places, but he guessed the
engine had frightened most of them away.
The trip did n't take forty minutes, so we had
scarcely time to learn the whole art of engine-
driving, but we were very glad to have had the
We found the steamboat waiting for us at Tocoi,
which is such a little place that I don't believe
either of us noticed it, as we hurried aboard. The
St. John's is a splendid river, as wide as a young
lake; but we did not have much time to see it, as
it grew dark pretty soon, and the supper-bell rang.
We reached Pilatka pretty early in the evening,
and there we had to stay all night. Mr. Chipper-
ton told me, confidentially, that he thought this
whole arrangement was a scheme to make money


out of travelers. The boat we were in ought to
have kept on and taken us up the Oclawaha; "but,"
said he, "I suppose that would n't suit the hotel-
keepers. I expect they divide the profits with the
By good luck, I thought, the Corny family and
ourselves went to different hotels to spend the
night. When I congratulated Rectus on this fact,
he only said:
It don't matter for one night. We '11 catch'erm
all bad enough to-morrow."
And he was right. When we went down to the
wharf the next morning to find the Oclawaha boat,
the first persons we saw were Mr. Chipperton, with
his wife and daughter. They were standing, gazing
at the steamboat which was to take us on our trip.
Is n't this a funny boat?" said Corny, as soon
as she saw us. It was a very funny boat. It was
not much longer than an ordinary tug, and quite
narrow, but was built up as high as a two-story
house, and the wheel was in the stern. Rectus
compared her to a river wheelbarrow.
Soon after we were on board, she started off, and
then we had a good chance to see the St. John's.
We had been down to look at the river before, for
we got up very early and walked about the town.
It is a pretty sort of a new place, with wide streets
and some handsome houses. The people have
orange groves in their gardens instead of potato-
patches,-as we have up north. Before we started,
we hired a rifle. We had been told that there was
plenty of game on the river, and that most gentle-
men who took the trip carried guns. Rectus wanted
to get two rifles, but I thought one was enough.
We could take turns, and I knew I 'd feel safer if
I had nothing to do but to keep my eye on Rectus
while he had the gun.
There were not many passengers on board, and
indeed there was not room for more than twenty-
five or thirty. Most of them who could find places
sat out on a little upper deck, in front of the main
cabin, which was in the top story. Mrs. Chipper-
ton, however, staid in the saloon, or dining-room,
and looked out of the windows. She was a quiet
woman, and had an air as if she had to act as shaft-
horse for the team, and was pretty well used to
holding back. And I reckon she had a good deal
of it to do.
One party attracted our attention as soon as we
went aboard. It was made up of a lady and two
gentlemen-hunters. The lady was n't a hunter,
but she was dressed in a suitable costume to go
about with fellows who had on hunting-clothes.
The men wore long yellow boots that came ever so
far up their legs, and they had on all the belts and
hunting fixings that the law allows. The lady wore
yellow gloves to match the men's boots. As we

were going up the St. John's, the two men strode
about, in an easy kind of a way, as if they wanted
us to understand that this sort of thing was nothing
to them. They were used to it, and could wear
that style of boots every day if they wanted to.
Rectus called them "the 3 :!:. -I.: ; ed party,"
which was n't a bad name.
After steaming about twenty-five miles up the
St. John's River, we went in. close to the western
Shore, and then made a sharp turn into a narrow
opening between the tall trees, and sailed right
into the forest.


WE were in a narrow river, where the tall trees
met overhead, while their lower branches and the
smaller trees brushed against the little boat as it
steamed along. This was the Oclawaha River, and
Rectus and I thought it was as good as fairy-land.
We stood on the bow of the boat, which was n't
two feet above the water, and took in everything
there was to see.
The river wound around in among the great
trees, so that we seldom could see more than a few
hundred yards ahead, and every turn we made
showed us some new picture of green trees and
hanging moss and glimpses into the heart of the
forest, while everything was reflected in the river,
which was as quiet as a looking-glass.
Talk of theaters !" said Rectus.
No, don't !" said I.
At this moment we both gave a little jump, for a
gun went off just behind us. We turned around
quickly and saw that the tall yellow-legs had just
fired at a big bird. He did n't hit it.
"Hello !" said Rectus, we'd better get our
gun. The game is beginning to show itself." And
off he ran for the rifle.
I didn't know that Rectus had such a blood-
thirsty style of mind; but there were a good many
things about him that I did n't know. When he
came back, he loaded the rifle, which was a little
breech-loader, and began eagerly looking about
for game.
Corny had been on the upper deck; but in a
minute or two she came running out to us.
"Oh! do you know," she called out, "that
there are alligators in this river? Do you think
they could crawl up into the boat ? We go awfully
near shore sometimes. They sleep on shore. I do
hope I'll see one soon."
Well, keep a sharp lookout, and perhaps you
may," said I.
She sat down on a box near the edge of the deck
and peered into the water and along the shore as




if she had been sent there to watch for breakers
ahead. Every now and then she screamed out:
"There 's one There! There! There!"
But it was generally a log, or a reflection, or
something else that was not an alligator.
Of course we were very near both shores at all
times, for the river is so narrow that a small boy
could throw a ball over it; but occasionally the
deeper part of the channel flowed so near one shore
that we ran right up close to the trees, and the
branches flapped up against the people on the little
forward deck, making the ladies, especially the lady
belonging to the yellow-legged party, crouch and
scream as if some wood-demon had stuck a hand
into the boat and made a grab for their bonnets.
This commotion every now and then, and the
almost continual reports from the guns on board,
and Corny's screams when she thought she saw an
alligator, made the scene quite lively.
Rectus and I took a turn every half-hour at the
rifle. It was really a great deal more agreeable to
look out at the beautiful pictures that came up before
us every few minutes; but as we had the gun, we
couldn't help keeping up a watch for game, besides.
"There !" I whispered to Rectus; "see that
big bird on that limb Take a crack at him !"
It was a water-turkey, and he sat placidly on a
limb close to the water's edge, and about a boat's
length ahead of us.
Rectus took a good aim. He slowly turned as
the boat approached the bird, keeping his aim upon
him, and then he fired.
The water-turkey stuck out his long, snake-like
neck and said:
"Quee! Quee! Quee!"
And then he ran along the limb quite gayly.
"Bang Bang !" went the guns of the yellow-
legs, and the turkey actually stopped and looked
back. Then he said:
"Quee Quee,!" again, and ran in among the
thick leaves.
I believe I could have hit him with a stone.
It don't seem to be any use," said Mr. Chip-
perton, who was standing behind us, to fire at
the birds along this river. They know just what
to do. I'm almost sure I saw that bird wink. It
would n't surprise me if the fellows that own the
rifles are in conspiracy with these birds. They let
out rifles that wont hit, and the birds know it, and
sit there and laugh at the passengers. Why, I tell
you, sir, if the people who travel up and down this
river were all regular shooters, there would n't be a
bird left in six months."
At this moment Corny saw an alligator,-a real
one. It was lying on a log, near shore, and just
ahead of the boat. She set up such a yell that it
made every one of us jump, and her mother came

rushing out of the saloon to see if she was dead.
The alligator, which was a good-sized fellow, was
so scared that he just slid off his log without taking
time to get decently awake, and before any one but
Rectus and myself had a chance to see it. The
ladies were very much annoyed at this, and urged
Corny to scream softly the next time she saw one.
Alligators were pretty scarce this trip for some
reason or other. For one thing, the weather was
not very warm, and they don't care to come out in
the open air unless they can give their cold bodies
a good warming up.
Corny now went up on the upper deck, because
she thought that she might see .!lh i ... farther
ahead if she got up higher. In five minutes, she
had her hat taken off by a branch of a tree, which
swept upon her, as she was leaning over the rail.
She called to the pilot to stop the boat and go back
for her hat, but the captain, who was up in the
pilot-house, stuck out his head and said he reckoned
she'd have to wait until they came back. The hat
would hang there for a day or two. Corny made
no answer to this, but disappeared into the saloon.
In a little while, she came out on the lower deck,
wearing a seal-skin hat. She brought a stool with
her, and put it near the bow of the boat, a little in
front and on one side of the box on which Rectus
and I were sitting. Then she sat quietly down and
gazed out ahead. The seal-skin cap was rather too
warm for the day, perhaps, but she looked very
pretty in it.
Directly, she looked around at us.
Where do you shoot alligators ?" said she.
"Anywhere, where you may happen to see them,"
said I, laughing. On the land, in the water, or
wherever they may be."
I mean in what part of their bodies ?" said she.
"Oh! in the eye," I answered.
"Either eye ?" she asked.
Yes; it don't matter which. But how are you
going to hit them ?"
I 've got a revolver," said she.
And she turned around like the turret of an iron-
clad, until the muzzle of a big seven-shooter pointed
right at us.
"My conscience I exclaimed, where did you
get that? Don't point it this way !"
"Oh it's father's. He let me have it. I am
going to shoot the first alligator I see. You need n't
be afraid of my screaming this time," and she re-
volved back to her former position.
"One good thing," said Rectus to me in a low
voice, her pistol is n't cocked."
I had noticed this, and I hoped also that it wasn't
"Which eye do you shut?" said Corny, turning
suddenly upon us.



"Both !" said Rectus.
She did not answer, but looked at me, and I told
her to shut her left eye, but to be very particular not
to turn around again without lowering her pistol.
She resumed her former position, and we breathed
a little easier, although I thought that it might be
well for us to go to some other part of the boat until
she had finished her sport.
I was about to suggest this to Rectus, when sud-

hammer and lets it down,-the most unsafe things
that any one can carry.
Too bad !" she exclaimed. I believe it was
only a log But wont you please load it up again
for me? Here are some cartridges."
Corny !" said I, how would you like to have
our rifle ? It will be better than a pistol for you."
She agreed, instantly, to this exchange, and I
showed her how to hold and manage the gun. I

P I i i

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denly Corny sprang to her feet, and began blazing
away at something ahead. Bang! bang bang !
she went, seven times.
Why, she did n't stop once to cock it !" cried
Rectus, and I was amazed to see how she had fired
so rapidly. But as soon as I had counted seven, I
Stepped up to her and took her pistol. She explained
to me how it worked. It was one of those pistols
in which the same pull of'the trigger jerks up the

did n't think it was a very good thing for a girl to
have, but it was a great deal safer than the pistol
for the people on board. The latter I put in my
Corny made one shot, but did no execution.
The other gunners on board had been firing away,
for some time, at two little birds that kept ahead of
us, skimming along over the water, just out of reach
of the shot that was sent scattering after them.


I think it's a shame," said Corny, to shoot
such little birds as that. They can't eat 'em."
No," said I; "and they can't hit 'err either,
which is a great deal better."
But very soon after this, the shorter yellow-
legged man did hit a bird. It was a water-turkey,
that had been sitting on a tree, just as we turned a
corner. The big bird spread out its wings, made a
doleful flutter, and fell into the underbrush by the
"Wont they stop to get him?" asked Corny,
with her eyes open as wide as they would go.
One of the hands was standing by, and he
Stop the boat when a man shoots a bird? I
reckon not. And there is n't anybody that would
go into all that underbrush and water only for a
bird like that, anyway."
Well, I think it's murder," cried Corny. I
thought they ate 'em. Here! Take your gun.
I 'm much obliged; but I don't want to kill things
just to see them fall down and die."
I took the gun very willingly,-although I did
not think that Corny would injure any birds with
it,-but I asked her what she thought about alliga-
tors. She certainly had not supposed that they
were killed for food.
"Alligators are wild beasts," she said. "Give
me my pistol. I am going to take it back to
And away she went. Rectus and I did not keep
up our rifle practice much longer. We could n't
hit anything, and the thought that if we should
wound or kill a bird, it would be of no earthly good
to us or anybody else, made us follow Corny's
example, and we put away our gun. But the other
gunners did not stop. As long as daylight lasted
a ceaseless banging was kept up.
We were sitting on the forward deck looking out
at the beautiful scenes through which we were pass-
ing, and occasionally turning back to see that none
of the gunners posted themselves where they might
make our positions uncomfortable, when Corny
came back to us.
Can either of you speak French ?" she asked.
Rectus could n't; but I told her that I under-
stood the language tolerably well, and asked her
why she wished to know.
It's just this," she said. You see those two
men with yellow boots and the lady with them?
She's one of their wives."
How many wives have they got?" interrupted
Rectus, speaking to Corny almost for the first time.
"I mean she is the wife of one of them, of
course," she answered, a little sharply, and then

she turned herself somewhat more toward me.
"And the. whole set try to make out they're
French, for they talk it nearly all the time. But
they 're not French, for I heard them talk a good
deal better English than they can talk French;
and every time a branch nearly hits her, that lady
sings out in regular English. And, besides, I know
that their French is n't French French, because I
can understand a great deal of it, and if it was, I
could n't do it. I can talk French a good deal
better than I can understand it, anyway. The
French people jumble everything up so, that I can't
make head or tail of it. Father says he don't
wonder the) have had so many revolutions when
they can't speak their own language more distinctly.
He tried to learn it, but did n't keep it up long,
and so I took lessons. For when we go to France,
one of us ought to know how to talk, or we shall
be cheated dreadfully. Well, you see over on the
little deck, up there, is that gentleman with his
wife and a young lady, and they 're all traveling
together, and these make-believe French people
have been jabbering about them ever so long,
thinking that nobody else on board understands
French. But I listened to them. I could n't make
out all they said, but I could tell that they were
saying all sorts of things about those other people,
and trying to settle which lady the gentleman was
married to, and they made a big mistake, too, for
they said the small lady was the one."
How do you know they were wrong ?" I said.
Why, I went to the gentleman and asked him.
I guess he ought to know. And now, if you'll
come up there, I 'd just like to show those people
that they can't talk out loud about the other passen-
gers, and have nobody know what they're saying."
"You want to go there and talk French, so as
to show them that you understand it?" said I.
Yes," answered Corny; "that's just it."
"All right; come along," said I. They may
be glad to find out that you know what they're
talking about."
And so we all went to the upper deck, Rectus as
willing as anybody to see the fun.
Corny seated herself on a little stool near the
yellow-legged party, the men of which had put
down their guns for a time. Rectus and I sat on
the forward railing near her. Directly she cleared
her throat, and then, after looking about her on
.each side, said to me, in very distinct tones:
Voy-ezz vows cett /ommy ett ses ducks femmys
seela ? *
I came near roaring out laughing, but I managed
to keep my face straight, and said: Oui."
"Well, then,-I mean Bean donk lah p#eetit

* Voyez-vous cetl omme et ces deuxfeemmes cela ? "-Do you see that man and those two women there ?


femmy nestfpa lakhfemmy due hommy. Lah other
femmy este sahfemmy." *
At this, there was no holding in any longer. I
burst out laughing, so that I came near falling off
the railing; Rectus laughed because I did; the
gentleman with the wife and the young lady laughed
madly, and Mr. Chipperton, who came out of the
saloon on hearing the uproar, laughed quite cheer-
fully, and asked what it was all about. But Corny
did n't laugh. She turned around short to see
what effect her speech had had on the yellow-
legged party. It had a good deal of effect. They

she knew. Her mother held her back a good deal,
no doubt; but her father seemed more like a boy-
companion than anything else, and if Corny had
n't been a very smart girl, she would have been a
pretty bad kind of a girl by this time. But she
wasn't anything of the sort, although she did do
and say everything that came into her head to say
or do. Rectus did not agree with me about Corny.
He did n't like her.
When it grew dark, I thought we should stop
somewhere for the night, for it was hard enough
for the boat to twist and squeeze herself along the




reddened and looked at us. Then they drew their
chairs closer together and turned their backs to us.
What they thought, we never knew; but Corny
declared to me afterward that they talked no more
French,-at least when she was about.
The gentleman who had been the subject of
Corny's French discourse called her over to him,
and the four had a gay talk together. I heard
Corny tell them that she never could pronounce
French in the French way. She pronounced it just
as it was spelt, and her father said that ought to be
the rule with every language. She had never had
a regular teacher; but if people laughed so much
at the way she talked, perhaps her father ought to
get-her one.
I liked Corny better the more I knew of her. It
was easy to see that she had taught herself all that

river in broad daylight. She bumped against big
trees that stood on the edge of the stream, and
swashed through bushes that stuck out too far
from the banks ; but she was built for bumping and
scratching, and did n't mind it. Sometimes, she
would turn around a corner, and make a short cut
-,.,o i, a whole plantation of lily-pads and spatter-
docks,-or things like them,-and she would
scrape over a sunken log as easily as a wagon-
wheel rolls over a stone. She drew only two feet
of water, and was flat-bottomed. When she made
a very short turn, the men had to push her stern
around with poles. Indeed, there was a man with
a pole at the bow a good deal of the time, and
sometimes he had more pushing off to do than he
could manage by himself.
When Mr. Chipperton saw what tight places we

"Biert donc, la fieite femme n'est fas lafemme the homme. La autre femme est safemme."-Well then, the little woman is not the
wife of the man. The other woman is his wife. [Of course, the French in this, and the preceding, foot-note is Corny's.-THE AUTHOR.]




had to squeeze through, he admitted that it was
quite proper not to try to bring the big steamboats
up here.
But the boat did n't stop. She kept right on.
She had to go a hundred and forty miles up that
narrow river, and if she made the whole trip from
Pilatka and back in two days, she had no time to
lose. So, when it was dark, a big iron box was set
up on top of the pilot-house, and a fire was built
in it of pine-knots and bits of fat pine. This blazed
finely, and lighted up the river and the trees on
each side, and sometimes threw out such a light
that we could see quite a distance ahead. Every-
body came out to see the wonderful sight. It was
more like fairy-land than ever. When the fire died
down a little, the distant scenery seemed to fade
away and become indistinct and shadowy, and the
great trees stood up like their own ghosts all around
us; and then, when fresh knots were thrown in,
the fire would blaze up, and the whole scene would
be lighted up again, and every tree and bush, and
almost every leaf, along the water's edge would be
tipped with light, while everything was reflected in
the smooth, glittering water.
Rectus and I could hardly go in to supper, and
we got through the meal in short order. We
staid out on deck until after eleven o'clock, and
Corny staid with us a good part of the time. At
last, her father came down after her, for they were
all going to bed.
This is a grand sight," said Mr. Chipperton.
" I never saw anything to equal it in any transforma-
tion scene at a theater. Some of our theater-people
ought to come down here and study it up, so as to
get up something of the kind for exhibition in the
Just before we went into bed, our steam-whistle
began to sound, and away off in the depths of the
forest we could hear every now and then another
whistle. The captain told us that there was a boat
coming down the river, and that she would soon
pass us. The river did not look wide enough for
two boats ; but when the other whistle sounded as
if it were quite near, we ran our boat close into
shore among the spatterdocks in a little cove, and
waited there, leaving the channel for the other
Directly, it came around a curve just ahead of us,

and truly it was a splendid sight. The lower part
of the boat was all lighted up, and the fire was
blazing away grandly in its iron box, high up in
the air.
To see such a glowing, sparkling apparition as
this come sailing out of the depths of the dark for-
est, was grand Rectus said he felt like bursting
into poetry; but he did n't. He was n't much on
rhymes. He had opportunity enough, though, to
get up a pretty good sized poem, for we were kept
awake a long time after we went to bed by the
boughs of the trees on shore scratching and tap-
ping against the outside of our state-room.
When we went out on deck next morning the
first person we saw was Corny holding on to the
flag-staff at the bow and looking over the edge of
the deck into the water.
What are you looking at?" said I, as we went
up to her.
"See there she cried. "See that turtle! And
those two fishes! Look look!"
We did n't need to be told twice to look. The
water was just as clear as crystal, and you could see
the bottom everywhere, even in the deepest places,
with the great rocks covered with some glittering
green substance that looked like emerald slabs,
and the fish and turtles swimming about as if they
thought there was no one looking at them.
I could n't understand how the water had become
so clear ; but I was told that we had left the river
proper and were now in a stream that flowed from
Silver Spring, which was the end of our voyage into
the cypress woods. The water in the spring and
in this stream was almost transparent,-very differ-
ent from the regular water of the river.
About ten o'clock, we reached Silver Spring,
which is like a little lake, with some houses on the
bank. We made fast at a wharf, and, as we were
to stop here some hours, everybody got ready to
go ashore.
Corny was the first one ready. Her mother
thought she ought not to go, but her father said
there was no harm in it.
"If she does," said Mrs. Chipperton, "she'll
get herself into some sort of a.predicament before
she comes back."
I found that in such a case as this Mrs. Chipper-
ton was generally right.

(To be continued.)




No more the birds, les oiseaux, sing;
The trees, les arbres, their leaves have lost;
See snow, la neige, o'er every thing,
And feel la gelee, or the frost.
L'Hiver, the Winter, now has come,
Bringing us Nogl, Christmas day.
Les ruisseaux, brooks, with ice are dumb,
And in the snow les enfants play.

Decembre, December, Janvier,
Or January, these are two
Of Winter's months, then F'vrier,
The short month, and our Winter's through.
So let the leaves, lesfeuilles, fly;
Southward, au Sud, the birdlings go;
They '11 back again come, by and by,
When Spring, le Printemps, melts the snow.



IT was Polly's, -whatever anybody may say,-for
she baited the trap and set it, and caught the little
fellow, and fed him afterward, and named him John
He was a young rat, not much bigger than-
well, not much bigger than a goose's egg, which
everybody knows the size of, of course. He was
soft and silky, delicate shades of slate color losing
themselves in the tenderest shades of gray, and a
tail about the size of a bran, span, new slate-pen-
cil,-and such ears They looked like little brown
shells, in which was the daintiest shade of pink, and
they were so thin that Polly could see the light
shining'through them. As for John Henry's eyes,
they were no better looking than two jet black-no,
black jet beads, and they twinkled, and twinkled,
and twinkled. Such hands as John Henry had!
Delicate little fingers, about as big around as fine
zephyr needles, and about as long as Polly's eye-
I have drawn John Henry's portrait carefully,
because he was for some time quite an important
member of our family, and Polly's chief pet. He
was a baby rat when she caught him in the cage-
like trap, but he grew wonderfully, and became
very tame. He must have been in the trap for
some time when Polly discovered him, for he was
nearly starved; his hunger made him lose all
fear and take food directly from Polly's hand, and
Polly fed him with all sorts of nice things,-bits of
cake, pieces of meat, scraps of cheese, and finally
topped off the fine meal with a thimble-full of milk,

which he drank so greedily that we could see him
"swelling wisibly before our wery eyes."
And from that day-when sitting up on his hind-
legs and washing his dainty little hands with his
pink little tongue, he looked into Polly's face and
saw the goodness there-he and she became fast
friends. Polly was n't afraid of him,-not a bit.
She would put her hands into the trap and stroke
his ratship's back, and even tickle his ears with
his tail, without remonstrance. John Henry grew
tamer and tamer. He would run and find Polly
in any part of the house if she called him, and he
would search Polly's pockets for sweetmeats, and
sometimes he would crawl into the depths of her
cloak pockets, nestle down there among the gloves
and the handkerchief, and take a nap. You see
Polly's cloak hung just over the hall register, and
was always warm and comfortable.
One Sunday morning, just as Polly was starting
for Sunday-school in all the glory of her new seal-
skin cloak, it began to rain, and as a wetting is
rather bad for fur, Aunt Elinor was forced to in-
sist on Polly's changing her new cloak for her old
The idea," said Polly, "of anybody wearing
an every-day cloak to Sunday-school Nobody
ever heard of such a thing. I shall be ashamed all
the time."
But Aunt Nell insisted, and so Polly made the
best of it, and off she went, brushing a great tear-
drop from her eye as she shut the door.
It was late when Polly reached the Sunday-




school, and the services had begun. They were
just singing. Polly took her place in her class as
quickly as she could, and got settled just in time
for the Superintendent's prayer. The school was
very quiet; it was a very good school, and you
might have heard a pin drop while Mr. -- was
praying. Polly had bowed her head with the
rest, and was trying to understand every word of the
prayer, when the little girl next to her shrieked,
and then another little girl shrieked, and then all
the little girls of Polly's class jumped up on the

benches, and then the teacher screamed, and then
the boys in the next class began to say : There
he goes. Here he is-under this bench. No, he
aint; he 's out in the aisle,"-all speaking right
out in Sunday-school, and flinging Sunday-school
books and hats and anything else they could lay
hands on, at something on the floor. They made
such.a rumpus that nobody knew when the Super-
intendent said Amen; but presently he was
among them with a cane, jabbing it under settees
and under the book-cases, and anywhere else that
he could jab it under. Then the sexton came
with a poker, and he and the Superintendent rat-
tled and banged away like everything.
Polly was bewildered,-she did n't know what

they were after, and what it all was about; and
she opened her eyes very wide at such a confusion
in Sunday-school. She had just made up her
mind that it must be a rat, when he jumped right
out from behind the book-case. Polly saw him,
and gave a little cry.
"My, my," she said, "it is John Henry "
And sure enough it was, and Polly caught him
easily enough, poor little fellow, all bruised and
bleeding, and frightened almost to death. And
Polly rolled him up in her pocket handkerchief,

- P/A'!J1

and walked out of school, with a sense of personal
injury on her face such as I never saw before.
"The idea," she said, of being afraid of John
Henry "
And poor John Henry was sick for a long time
afterward. He never wanted to go to Sunday-
school again, you may be sure. And you may be
equally sure that the Superintendent did n't want
him there. Polly bandaged him, and bathed his
bruised nose, and fed him on spoon-food for some
days, and to the delight of her dear little heart,
John Henry recovered. He is now a very dignified
and gray old rat, and Polly says he winks know-
ingly, as much as to say "Rather not," whenever
he hears Sunday-school mentioned.

SC----O-S-- .. N 'SUDAY-CHOOI".





a 9 a
HE game of dominos has
never had very great pop-
9 ularity in America, and,
a a indeed, has not received
the attention that it de-
1 serves. Less laborious
than chess, and less exciting than cards, it still has
a very pleasant mingling of the skill and chance of
both. In Prussia, grave old gentlemen will sit for
hours over a game of dominos, playing each piece
with as much deliberation as if they were handling
Happening to be boarding, through a long con-
valescence, with some friends who had somewhere
learned the game of :' Bid," we invented two others,
and all three of the games we played are described
below. All are founded upon the principles of
different games at cards, and vary considerably from
the old "Muggins," Bergen Game," etc.

This game may be played by not less than two
or more than five persons. The dominos are
reckoned in suits from the doublet downward.
Thus, in the suit of sixes, the double-six is the high-
est, the six-five next, the six-four, six-three, etc., to
the six-blank. In fives, the double-five, five-six,
five-four, etc. In blanks the double-blank, blank-
six, blank-five, etc. Observe that all the pieces
excepting the doublets count in two suits.
The game is thirty-two,-one being counted for
each trick taken when a bid is successful,-and five
tricks make a hand.
The dominos having been properly shuffled, five
are dealt to each player. The one at the dealer's
left then "bids" for tricks. That is, out of the five
tricks which make the hand he offers to take a cer-
tain number. If he bids for less than five, the
player on his left has the privilege of overbidding
him. Whoever bids for the highest number of tricks
chooses the trumps, and leads. All dominos except-
ing trumps call suit to the end having most spots, all
trumps being played and called in the suit of trumps
instead of their own. A player is obliged to follow
suit when he has it. Doublets, being the highest
in their respective suits, if led, can only be taken by
trumps. If played, however, they do not take a
trick, unless in suit to the larger end of the piece
led. Trumps and dominos led are taken by a piece
higher in their respective suits.
The person making trumps must take all the


tricks for which he bids, and can count no more;
if he fails to take them, his score is to be set back
as much as he has bid; except when the game is
between two persons only, in which case the num-
ber bidden for by the loser should be added to
the score of his opponent. Thus, if a player bids
for four tricks, he can count but four although he
take all the hand. If he fail to take four, his score
is diminished by that number; or, if two play, his
adversary's is increased by four.
The policy of the game is only to be learned by
experience, but a few suggestions to beginners may
not be amiss. In deciding how many tricks to bid
for, it is usually safe to count all the dominos in the
same suit (that suit to be made trumps), and the
doublets held. Care must, however, be taken not
to depend too much on trumps which are low in
their suits; though the smaller the number of
players, the greater the risks one may run. It is
an advantage to have the lead, so that it is usually
best in bidding for any less than five, while playing
trumps or doublets first, to retain a trump with
which to recover the lead, if lost.
As illustration, suppose two persons, A and B,
to be playing. A deals, and in his own hand finds
the six-four, five-one, six-blank, five-blank and
double-blank. B has the six-five, four-two, three-
one, three-blank and double-two. It is B's first
"bid," and he says, "I will bid for three tricks."
I will bid for four," A replies, "and I make
blanks trumps."
He then plays the double-blank. B follows with
the three-blank, as he must match a trump with a
trump if possible. A leads the six-blank, and B,
having no trump, puts down his lowest piece, the
three-one. A plays the six-four, to which B must
give his six-five as "suit to the larger end. This
wins the trick for B who leads double-two, his best
domino. Fortunately for A he has no two, and so
is at liberty to take the doublet with his trump,
five-blank. He then lays down his five-one, which
B cannot take as he has no suit. Thus A wins his
four tricks and scores four points. If B had not been
over-bid he would have named twos as trumps, play-
ing double-two, six-five and four-two in succession.

differs from the plain game only in allowing bids to
run above the five tricks which make the original
hand. A player may bid for as many tricks as he
chooses, his only limit being that there must be




dominos dealt to each player to equal the bid.
Thus, when two play, the bids cannot run above
fourteen; when four play, not above seven. The
bids above five must be made blindly-that is,
before the extra dominos for that bid are dealt.
Thus, holding five in hand, a player bids seven,
and then two dominos are dealt to each player. If
then another player bids eight, another piece is
dealt to each, and so on.
Played by two or three players. The suits count
as before, except that the double-blank is always
the highest trump, no matter what suit is turned
for trumps. The doublet next below the doublet
of trumps is third in the game, but is called and
played in its own suit. After this, dominos of the
suit of trumps come in order. Thus, if fives are
trumps, the double-blank is highest, then double-
five, double-four, five-six, five-four, etc. If ones
are trumps, double-blank, double-one, double-six,
one-six, one-five, etc.
The counts are as follows, the game being thirty-
two: The first trick played counts one; the last
two tricks count one each; one is scored for any
three tricks taken without the introduction of a
trump. [There is one exception to this,-if the
doublet below trumps which is the third in the
game takes a trick by its power as third in the
game, the trick is not to be counted as one of the
three by suit.] At the end of a hand, the excess
of doublets held by any player is added to his score.
Five dominos are dealt as in Bid," the dealer
ending by turning up a domino, the larger end of
which indicates the suit of trumps. If the double-
blank is turned, sixes are trumps. The player on
the left of the dealer has the liberty of rejecting any
one of his own dominos, and taking the turned
trump in its stead. If he passes, the next player
has the same right. If it comes to the dealer and
he passes also, he must turn it down, and turn a
fresh trump, which, however, must not be in the
suit rejected. The choice of discarding for the new
trump belongs as before to the player at the dealer's
left; and the person taking up the trump has the
lead. As fast as a player plays a piece, he draws
one from the pool, keeping five constantly in hand
until all the dominos are distributed.

As in "Bid," suit must be followed. The main
,points are to secure as many doublets as possible,
securing the first and last two points, and while, if
possible, getting three by suit" yourself, to pre-
vent this in your opponent. Use small trumps if
you can in taking doublets and third tricks.
This game, which is somewhat more complicated
than the two former, is played by two or four per-
sons. The blank-one, the blank-two, the blank-
four, and the double-one, are not used in the game.
The one-two, blank-three, and double-blank, are
all counted in the suit of trumps, whatever it hap-
pens to be. The double-three is always highest in
the game, but is played and called in its own suit;
it will, however, take either the double-blank or
doublet of trumps if played to them. The order
of value is double-three, double-blank, double of
trumps, the suit of trumps in order, the blank-
three, the one-two.
Five are dealt and pieces drawn as in West-
phalian." The dealer turns the trump, which must
be taken by the player on his left, who rejects one
piece of his own. The double-blank or a double-
three turned makes sixes trumps.
A "hand is all the play between one deal and
the next. The tricks of each hand are divided into
sets of three each. A "set" consists of three tricks
in succession, beginning with the first, fourth,
seventh, etc. Thus the first set would be the first,
second and third tricks; the next, the fourth, fifth
and sixth. With two players, a hand will consist of
four sets; with four of but two. Each set scores one.
If the side that takes the first trick of a set takes also
the two remaining tricks, it scores one. If it fails to
take the whole-set, one point is scored for the other
side. The double-three, the double-blank, and the
doublet of trumps, score one each for the side hold-
ing them at the end of a hand. It follows that, with
two players, seven points will be scored for every
hand, and with four players five points.
The main objects in the game are to force the
first point of each set upon your opponent, and
afterward secure the second or third. If a player
is forced to take the first of a set, he must use every
endeavor to secure the two others. The game is





little lady, very nicely dressed.


i/ -~ i;

2.-Two little dickey-birds,
perched upon a nest.

3.-THREE little chickies,
feeding from a plate.

-Fo ii li



F-IVE Ilttl rabbits,

-ri -gh tC-ened by: a gun.


II ;`



'i;--~-; -C ---
-., ---~-i-



6.-Six little piggies, running
like fun.

\1- .

-a ,


.7.-SEVEN pretty swal-
lows, crossing the sky.

.-EIGHT nice apples --
hanging up high.

I' -"^ "'1.: ; ^ =-i d
.. ,. ,. --_,i-- .-

SI.--NINE little sparrows,
-- a-.. picking up crumbs.

.. -4 - -:oi; :- -- i,, 1' ,-

I o.-TEN little fingers, but
two of them are thumbs .-'

. VOL. VI.-21.

r i




\. ,..

'f .._. ._ --' .

,- ) jACK-IN-I HE PU LP I T.

SOMEHOW, your Jack never says to himself as
the months come around: "What shall I talk to
.. -,. 1 .:[ about, thistime??' No, indeed. It's
Jl '. 'h.. can I bear to withhold of all that I
wish to tell them?" And the ST. NICHOLAS echo
invariably answers:
Confine yourself to two pages, by the clock !"
Think of that, now, for a pulpit speaker Two
pages, indeed! Why, it does n't even give you
time to fall asleep !
Did you have a merry Christmas, my holiday-keep-
ers ? Were your stockings full, your trees loaded ?
Oho T.-ii:Ii. of loaded reminds me to pass
over to you something from

DEACON GREEN has sent me a few remarks
about boys who carry loaded pistols,-none of my
boys, of course.
Here are some of them,-the remarks, not the
boys,-and I'll leave all sensible fellows to draw
their own conclusions therefrom.
"I never could understand," the Deacon says,
" why a boy should carry a pistol. A pistol is a
very peculiar fire-arm ; it is made for a very pecu-
liar purpose. It is quite natural for some boys to
want rifles or shot-guns, with which they may kill
game ; but a pistol is intended to kill human beings,
and this is about all it is good for. There are very
few boys in this country who could shoot a bird or a
rabbit with a pistol, and any one who should go out
hunting with a pistol would be laughed at. This
being the case, why should a boy want a pistol?
What human beings would he like to kill ?
It is useless to say that he may need his pistol
for purposes of defense. Not one boy in a thousand
is ever placed in such a position that he need defend
himself with a pistol. But it often has happened
that boys who carried loaded pistols thought that



it would be a manly thing, under certain cir-
cumstances, to use them, and yet, when the time
came and they killed somebody, they only brought
down misery on themselves and their families.
And this, too, in many a case where, if no one
present had had a pistol, the affair would have passed
off harmlessly, and been soon forgotten.
"But the way in which boys generally take human
life with pistols is some accidental way. They do
not kill highwaymen and robbers, but they kill
their school-mates, or their brothers, or their sisters,
or, in many cases, themselves. There is no school
where boys are taught to properly handle and carry
loaded pistols, so they usually have to learn these
things by long practice. And, while they are learn-
ing, it is very likely that some one will be shot. I
saw in a newspaper, not long ago, accounts of
three fatal accidents, all of which happened on the
same day, from careless use of fire-arms. And one
of these dreadful mishaps was occasioned by a lad
who carried a loaded pistol in his overcoat pocket,
and who carelessly threw down the coat.
"And then, again, a boy ought to be ashamed
to carry a pistol, especially a loaded one. The
possession of such a thing is a proof that he expects
to go among vicious people. If he goes into good
society, and has honest, manly fellows for his com-
panions, he will not need a pistol. A loaded pistol
in a boy's pocket is not only useless and dangerous,
but also it almost always stamps him as a bad boy,
or one who wishes to associate with bad boys and
vicious men."
BoY s! which of you has a pair of old skates
lying around, besides the new ones given to you
this last Christmas ?
Lots of you, of course.
But, may be, some of you have n't any skates at
all. Poor fellows you'll be standing around,
shivering, or stamping about to keep your toes
warm, all the time the other fellows are skimming
and cutting over the ice on their new skates, feeling
as happy and warm as birds on the wing !
And the old skates?
.Well, it does n't seem just right to have them
lying idle at home, does it?
A FRIEND, named Sarah Kellogg, writes me a
curious thing about two of our Western rivers. On
Wisconsin's northern line, a river-the Wisconsin-
starts on its long journey. Hundreds of miles away
to the south-east, the Fox has its rise. The one
sweeps with broad direct current to the south; the
other, deep and narrow, hastens to the north-west
with seeming intent of emptying itself to swell the
Wisconsin's flood. Through hundreds of miles
they draw toward each other till an eye on the site
of old Fort Winnebago could see between them
scarce earth enough, as it were, for a wagon track.
At the real divide of three miles, the streams, as
in petulance, or sudden change of plan, turn from
each other, one to the south-west to give its
stained and bitter flood to the tropic Gulf, the


other to pour its sweet and limpid waters through
the great linked lakes, the terrific cataract, and the
thousand-isled river, into the Atlantic. Perhaps in
the coral groves about the feet of the wading
Flower State,-Florida,-the waters, so nearly
united, so widely parted, may finally mingle.
At high water, the divide between the rivers is
overflowed, and a wisp of straw thrown where the
two currents meet is parted, one portion to be
floated to the northern sea, the other to the southern.
SOMEBODY, with the romantic name of Gabri-
elle," sends this beautiful little picture to your Jack,

butterflies don't go around shooting among the
flowers in February.

DEAR JACK: I think when I have told you what our young
"Columbus" did, you will think he was persevering as well as
brave. Six miles from our home in South Wales, high up on the
mountains, was a dark: . I 1 '.. 1 ike, about two miles around.
It was called Lake "'... id -', ri .. ii mountain that overshadows
it, and the people living near believed that it had no bottom.
"Why, it had been sounded with miles and miles of line without
finding any bottom said these country-folk.
But our Columbus did n't believe everything the Welshmen told
him, even if they did add, "Indeed, indeed, it is true." So he made
up his mind to build a boat and carefully try the depth of the lake in
every part.
This was easier said than done. The nearest point at which a
boat or boat-builder could be found was twenty-two miles off! But


and says: "Be sure to show it to the children in
the February ST. NICHOLAS, as it is so appropriate
for Valentine's Day !"
Now, why is it appropriate, I should like to know?
and who ever heard of a boy with wings,-that is,
on this earth ? And, if it is suited to February,
why is he dressed so coolly, or not dressed at all ?
And why are the flowers growing around him in
that ridiculous way for the season ? And what is
he shooting? And if he hits, what is he going to
do about it ? And, if he does n't hit, what is the
use of his shooting at all?
Your Jack does n't know what in the world to do
with this picture ; but perhaps some of you smart
young folk will understand it.
If it were only a bird, now, or a kind of butter-
fly, there would be no trouble; .but then, birds and

connected with our out-buildings were a carpenter's shop, blacksmith's
forge, etc., and there was plenty of lumber lying about. So our
young explorer began, and, single-handed, built a trim, sea-worthy
boat, large enough to carry twelve men, fitting her with anchor,
chain and all. But she had to be carried on the shoulders of men six
miles to the lake Then she was launched, and all but one of the men
got in, with at least an assumed confidence in their Columbus. Row-
ing along and across the lake in every direction, the greatest depth
was found to be forty-nine feet, with a bottom of soft brown mud !
Feeling pretty safe now, the crew gave vent to their feelings in song
and the drinking of much Welsh ale, so that a jollier set of advent-
urers surely never was afloat!
Their work accomplished, the crew-knowing that the superstitious
mountaineers would not allow the boat to remain afloat-loaded her
with stones and sank her in the deepest part of the lake. But the
natives, not long afterward, built out a jetty and fished her up. Then
they knocked her into splinters, but dared not carry them away;
"For," said they, Mother Shipton foretold that there would be a
ship on Proll Van Hit, and then the world would come to an end "
So these bran ,. i. .-i ., T ,i i. se, that by destroying the
"ship," which i-.-.- ..Ir i .. .. ,- ... :.. ; the prophecy, they could
put off the evil day a while longer. Anyhow, I guess the boat our
brave Columbus built was the first that ever floated on the unfathom-
able" lake. B. P.



OUR magazine for November, page 28, contained a picture-" The Young Hunter'"-to which, in the "Letter-Box" of the same
issue, we invited our young readers to write stories, promising to print the picture again in our "Young Contributors' Department" with the
best one of all the stories that should be sent in. The length of the story was limited to five hundred words.
Very many contributions came, to our gratification, some good, some poor, but all showing interest and painstaking, though a few
were too inappropriate to the picture to enter into competition. Finally, after taking the ages of the writers and all other points into
consideration, the examining committee united in giving the place of first merit to the story printed be'ow. It was, however, very difficult
to decide, for many of the contributions were very nearly equal to F. E. T's, especially one from M. A. L., a little girl of Southampton,
England, and another from E. P. D., a Buffalo boy only nine years of age. Therefore, thanking all of the children for their efforts, and for the
many delightful notes that accompanied the MSS., we print a list of all the boys and girls who sent in stories deserving mention:


_.. ..... .- ..


* rI



KARL lived in the far West near the mountains. One November
day, he sat by the fire, watching his grandmother mix the bread,
when a rap came at the door of the little cabin.
"Those tramps! said the old lady. "Karl, you go."
Karl obeyed; and, as he or-n-lI the door, started back much sur-
prised, for there stood the .11 ... of an old Indian.
He wore a dark leather jacket, with trousers to the knees, orna-
mented with beads and feathers; moccasins on his feet and rings in
his ears. Although his arms were filled with bows and arrows, he
had not come for war, for he held one out, saying pleasantly,
"Wantee shoot? Wantee buy?"
"Oh, Grandmother," said Karl, "look at these!"
"But you have no money, Karl," said the grandmother.-" How
much are they ?"
Karl's face fell as the Indian answered:
"One dollar bow and arrow."
"I have no money," said Karl.
S"Is there nothing else you would take for one?" asked the old
The Indian replied: Me hungry, me want dinnee."
The old Indian went in and sat down by the log fire and warmed
himself, while the grandmother placed upon the table some bread,
milk and venison. When he had finished, he gave Karl a fine bow
ofash, and three arrows, and then left.
Karl's eyes sparkled as he asked his grandmother to lethim go out
to shoot.
'" i l1 i... 1. ..ie a deer," said he.
i-i: I.... I I ,I-. house, and called to his dog Snyder.
He shot at several birds, but they all escaped him; and it became
evident that it would take a great deal of practice for him to become
a skillful archer. He was tired of shooting with such poor success,
and so decided to go home, when he heard Snyder barking loudly.
On turning, he saw him burying his nose in the ground near an old
stump. He ran hastily to it, looking eagerly to see what the dog was

barking at. It was a poor little bird which had not flown south early
enough, and seemed frozen. He took it up and carried it carefully
home, wrapped it in cotton and put it beside the fire, to seeif it would
revive. He then sat down to watch it, but soon, getting tired, he fell
He 1. . e1 i 1 .._ when he heard a chirp, and looking up he
saw 1. I ..I i, ....- hbout the floor. Karl spent the rest of the
afternoon in keeping Snyder away from the bird, for the dog was very
anxious for it.
That night, Karl told his father the whole story, and he was very
much pleased. Karl then took the bird and opened a window so that
it might be free again. It flew out in the moonlight, over those cold
bleak mountains toward the sunny south.
So, good came of the young hunter's first trial after all.
FLORENCE E. TYNG. (Age, 13 years.)

Louise P. Russell-Mary Crosby "'"..: -'i.. I ... is Lich-
i.1-; .. i i.-.i ssieDeanet- i --i .- i .-.--. Dorr-
S- -'_ I .. F Hering-Grace Johnson-Clara Small-
J. Maurice Thompson-Cornie May Benton-Katie Kolin-Fred. L.
Si -. .-, ...I i i .. i .sie M. Nichols-Bertha
I .. ... I 1 ... "-i. -Emma M. Kent-Car-
rio Crum-Pierson Durbrow-Myrta Howe-" Chub"-Kate M.
i 1 .-!! i, .;,r.-,,i -. W. Pepper-Gertrude Mledlicott
-i- -.* I/ I I- I *.11 .I Baldwin-Fred Betts Wright-
Jane Thumith-Thomas Hunt-Mary Howells-Mary H. Himes-
Willie Curtis-Lou M. Andrews-Mary F.. Child-May Wight-
Eleanor Coxe-Mary S. Holt-Mary Anna Winston-Han-ie Hum-
phreys-Inez Hiltoi--Bertha BohunDevereux-Carrie Johnson--Car-
ne E. Beach-Frank G. Myers-Florence Read-Eddy H. Mason-
Gertie C. Busby-Fannie Manniere-Clara Smith-Bessie C. Borney








I879.] -THE LET

-Bessie M. Martin-Louise P. Winsor-Charlie Tracie-James W.
Thompson-Mildred E. Scuife-Lucy L. Cooke-Annie Dale Jones
-William Pettinos-Annie L. Bailey-Clara L. Kellogg-Robert L.
Winn-Matie Twitchell-Harrie Humphreys-Louise Holloway-
Lizzie Gilman-Hortense Keables-Frances H. Catlin-Daisy Dug-
dale-Mary Hough-Pansy Murray-Mary Graham Hanks-Louise
J. Stone-George P. Hitchcock-Fordyce Aimee Warden-Henry
0. Fetter-MaudL. Smith-Clara Glynn-Ernest Thurston Capen-
Wim. Gaston Hawks-Kate E. Hobart-Henry M. Hobart-Willie
Leonard-Dexter W. Rice-Ruth R.Wheeler-Courtenay H. Fenn-
Alex. Cameron, Jr.-Julian A. Hallock-Violet Beach-Lucy D.
- .,..... -Tr,. C. Hall-Pauline Phillips-Jessie Forsyth-
.-.i "1 I wnsend-Adele M. Fonda-Sadie G. Carrington-
Minnie Smith-Nellie Emerson-Mamie Belle Taylor-Harold B.


Smith-Sadie B. Pritchett-Carita Preston-K. G. R.-L. Clements
-Wm. A. Buckland-Lizzie Harris-Sherdie Maginnis-Katie Ham-
ilton-Robert Henry Gay-Hattie Jacobs--Kitty Armstrong-Clar-
ence Mlerrill Humes-Linda C. Bedell-Willie F. Thorpe-Jack
Bennett-Carrol Squier-Halvo Jacobsen-Annie A. Schall-A. L.
Brockway-- arlan Wellman-Beamy Johnson-Flavel S. Mines-
Belle G. Stone-Ina Boynton-Horace F. Walker-Flora Melendy
-' .. ...:-.r t-Clear-Charles P. Kellogg-Eddie A. Perkins-H.
I(. ..i..:- ..,--Lily Bean-Clara F. Hyde-Ada M. Stephens-
Grace Crum-Harry Kelley-Geo. S. Brown-Saidie Morrison-Ber-
tram L. Wenman-Geo. D. Finnin-Grace P. Taintor
Wicker-Adelia G. McNamee-Daisy B. Hodgsdon-Julia -
v.rt 4 M Cr'-i..i7t .- f- F rr-Jacob S. Robeson-Amos Kent
,,--..' -, ,,t.


[WE print below, by request, the original "Story of a Cheese,"
written by Mrs. Maud Christiani. Mr. J. T. Trowbridge's version
of this story will be found in ST. NICHOLAS for August, 1878, under
the title "King Cheese."]

FOUR-AND-TWENTY Burghers fat
In solemn convocation sat,
And wagged their heads, and talked and planned,
In the town-hall of Buhl, in Switzerland.
Their intentions were these,
To send a big cheese,
To the great Exposition in Paris.

They must build a large vat,
And a press, for all that,
The like as had never been made before,
For Cheshire or Stilton, Dutch or Rochefort;
For the prime idea
Of the Burghers, 't was clear,
Was the dimensioia in which they prided.
'Twas a great undertaking,
But well worth the making,
And 't would tickle the pnde of the people there
To astonish the world with their big gruybre.
So they bothered their heads,
And scarce saw their beds,
Until thesmatter was quite decided.

The farmers, highly pleased with the plan,
Gladly consented, every man
To second the views of the corporation,
And gave in their votes of co-operation.
So rosy milk-maids,
In caps and long braids,
Milked the bonniest cows in the fields.

In their nice peasant dress,
They stood at the press,
And, though they got up with the rising sun,
They never stopped till their task was done;
But every day
Pressed out the whey,
Enjoying the pleasure industry yields.

When the work was done,
Then commenced the fun,
And the mayor of the place made a proclamation
Which went the length and breadth of the nation,
That arrangements were made
For a grand parade
Of the cheese, through the streets of the town.

So when the day came,
A magnificent train,
The Mayor at its head, with keys and mace,
Silk stockings, cocked hat, and lots of gold lace,
Passed with pompous gait
And an air of state
Through crowds of people, in holiday gown.

And there was such a noise
With the shouts of the boys,
The playing of bands and rolling of drums !
The hurrahs of the crowd and booming of guns,
Made such an uproar,
As never before
Was heard in that quaint little town of Buhl.

After parading the streets all day,
The cheese, at evening, went on its way.
The train puffed on and made no long tarries,
But carried its burden safely to Paris.
It reached in good time
That city so fine
Where nothing but pleasure reigns as a rule.

The Parisians, sprightly and all alive,
Were waiting to see the cheese arrive.
Besides a fine team of six Normandy horses
Accustomed to pull with all their forces,
It took at least ten
Strong porters and men
To get it off safe to the great Exposition.

They rolled it into a prominent place,
Where it stared the visitors straight in the face;
And all the world wondered and talked of the Swiss,
For sending so wondrous a present as this.
The bouquet was prime
And shed, all the time,
A perfume, that sure, was a great acquisition.

Now it happened one night
When the moon shone bright
And the Seine was rippling in silver sheen,
That sauntering along its quays might be seen
A fine French rat,
All glossy and fat.
Bewhiskered and jaunty as he could be,
Out seeking adventures was Monsieur Raifie.

He sniffed the fresh air,
Saw the shimmer and glare
Of thousands of lamps, in the trees suspended,
Of every shade and color blended,
Still shining bright,
Though past midnight.
And the Parisians had talked and grimaced themselves weary,
With their shrugs and lMon Dicus !" and manners so airy.

He strolled about to the left and the right,
When, all of a sudden, there burst on his sight
"1-.. 1.. .- and strangest conglomeration
(i I '.... and temples of every nation.
And there in the middle, 4
Like "Hi diddle diddle,"
Stood the great Exposition of sixty-seven,
Containing 'most everything under the heaven.

This was an adventure,
And well worth the venture,
So he sought for a crevice through which he could squeeze,
And view all the wonderful things at his ease.


Much bewildered was he
By all he did see,
And wandered on, quite lost and amazed,
His head in a whirl and his senses dazed.

At length it was morning,
For the day was dawning,
And the sun wa 1-.:.] .. his golden beams
On the city of I .-r. ii in its dreams.
So he looked round about
For a hole to creep out,
And began to feel hungry, when, lo! he smelt cheese,
The thing of all things, that most him did please.
So he followed his nose,-
A member, that shows
A vast deal of keenness and penetration,
In delectable titbits for mastication--
Nor did it mislead,
But brought him, indeed,
To the realm of cheeses of every size,
In the midst of which stood the great Swiss prize.
No Arabian dream
Could equal the scene,
For it rarely occurs in the life of a rat
To see such a tasty collection as that.
Without loss of time
He sought the most prime,
Town-bred as he was, it will not amaze
To find he selected the great Schweitzer Ks'.

And now my young friends
Our story soon ends.
The last of all things comes sooner or late,
And the French Exposition shared the like fate.
For September's last days
Saw the sun's mellow rays
Glance pale and obliquely on the Rotunda
Which, so many months, had made the world wonder.
We will add, if you please,
With regard to the cheese,
That it won great renown, and you '11 easily surmise,
Received, as its due, the first French prize.
And the pride of the Swiss
Was so flattered by this,
That they voted the cheese in their gratification
To the poor of Paris, by way of donation.
Then commissioners four,
In behalf of the poor,
And Normandy horses, harnessed and strong,
Came trotting the banks of the Seine along.
And the same burly men,
Not fewer than ten,
Pulled off their jackets to push with more ease,
And lent their best shoulder to move the big cheese.
They shouted, "Now ready!"
Look out there "-"Steady "
And pushed with a will (being all in their places),
When, lo0 with a thud they fell flat on their faces!
Dumbfounded they were,
To see the gruyere
Most lightly and gingerly spin itself round,
While they were left sprawling about on the ground.
Oh! sad ridicule,
On the Burghers of Buhl!
No wonder the cheese rolled so lightly about,
For the rats had quite eaten the inside out.
The world when it heard
This ddnoznement absurd,.
Smiled at the gift of the Burghers, so kind,
For the rats got the cheese and the poor got the rind.

DID any of you ever see any of those curious creatures shown in
the Unnatural History" pictures, by our funny artist, on pages 260
and 26I?
Did you ever meet with the Rabbaticus Mudiurtlosis," who has
the bohy of a turtle and the head of a rabbit,-a head with which to
wish he could run and jump, and a body that can only crawl and
swim? He looks as if he were the celebrated Hare and Tortoise, and
were always running a race with himself.
Then there is the Entomological Humbug," a very strange bug,
indeed, with a chicken's bill and a beetle's body. Did you ever see
him crawling around?

The Great American Takeiteezee appears to be a very remark-
able animal. He is harnessed to a curious kind of street-car, but as
he seems to be part ox and part snail, the car does not go very fast.
The next time you are in a street-car which is rolling along quite
slowly, look out of the front window, and see if one of these Takeit-
eezees is drawing it.
Now, of course, you would not care to have the "Web-footed Hop-
pergrass in your garden. If his head is as large as an elephant's head
ought to be, his legs must be so long that he could jump over a house.
As his feet are web-footed, he must swim, sometimes, but he looks as
if wading would suit him better.
As for the "Jub-jub Bird," with the rhinoceros head, he laughs to
think how ridiculous he is. If you were to meet him and laugh, he
would n't mind.
The Cat-fish is a regular water-pussy. Look at her head To
be sure, she has a fish's body and fins, but then she could not swim
under water with a cat's body. The bait cn the hook which she is
looking at must be a mouse. That is about the only thing she would
bite at. Unless, indeed, you could bait a hook with milk.
As for the Submarine Diver," with his duck's head, his lobster-
claws and his fish's tail, he seems to require a good deal of help to get
himself down to the bottom. A hundred-pound weight seems just
about enough to sink him. He is not much of a diver. Almost any-
body could go to the bottom of the very deepest river, with the help
of a hundred-pound weight.
But perhaps none of you ever studied Un-natural History! We
feel quite sure of it, and are certain that these animals, which Mr.
Hopkins has drawn, are not to be found in any of our menageries or
aquaria, where they might be seen and examined. We are also
of the opinion that none of them are to be seen running wild. They
are the kind of creatures which might be made, if people were to go
into the business of inventing animals. They are very queer, and
scarcely one of them could manage to live comfortably. They would
probably give up living, in despair.
And yet there have been creatures in this world, almost as strange
and curious as these. Get some pictures of the beasts, birds and
fishes, which existed in the times before Noah's flood, and see if you
do not think so.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I send a curious and interesting item for
the "Letter-Box." It was told me as being true, and I have no
reason to doubt it. I have never seen it in print.
In the town of Yreka, California, there formerly lived a baker,
S. Gilligs by name. His shop bore the:. i ..
Nothing very curious about that, is there ? But one day an inquisi-
tive individual thought of reading it backward, and made a singular
discovery. Try it. AN OLD BoY.

MANY ofourreaders will remember the beautifullittle poem, "Ashes
of Roses," written by Elaine Goodale, at thirteen years of age, and
printed in ST. NICHOLAS for December, 1877. Soon after its publi-
cation, there appeared in The Louisville Courier-Jourrnal some
verses entitled "Attar of Roses," which closely resembled Elaine's
pretty lines. The resemblance was intentional, however, and
was explained in a heading. The Journeals poem was widely
copied, but, in going the rounds of the press, the heading must have
been overlooked or omitted by some of the papers, since a comparison
of the two poems was recently published in a prominent Boston
daily, with an editorial item crediting "Attar of Roses" to the En-
glish poet, F. W. Bourdillon, and condemning Elaine's verses as
"precocious plagiarism." We therefore print the following letter
and extract, which, we think, effectually refute this charge against
little Elaine:
Louisville, Dec. 14, i87S.
Editor of ST. NICHOLAS: The "Attar of Roses" published in the
Courier-Journalwas written by a member of the staff of the paper.
The verses never appeared in the Courier-Journal with Bourdillon's
name, and they were written after the pretty poem from little Miss
Goodale had been published in ST. NICHOLAS. An explanation
was printed in the Cozrier-Jou ral and sent to ST. NICHOLAS, and
that explanation, wl.: rl. ,; d. ., i.. ri I been given again
in the Sfrigfield.d ,: .. D. PADMAN,
for Courier-Journal.
Here is the explanation alluded to in the above letter:
"In answer to a note from the Editor of ST. NICHOLAS, it should be
said that the poem 'Attar of Roses,' published in the Courier-Jour-
nal, was written after the appearance of little Elaine Goodale's
'Ashes of P_- iT .,,- rel it -f sTleasantry which the
heading e fi ,,,.- i .




MOTHER GOOSE'S MELODIES, published by Houghton, Osgood &
Co.-This latest edition of Mother Goose's Melodies" is so finely
bound and printed, and so exquisitely illustrated, that it will be sure
to delight everybody, young and old, who sees it. It contains the
most complete collection of the famous Nursery Songs that we ever
have seen, also an interesting account of Mother Goose and her
Family, and a great number of "Notes" telling all that is known
about the history of the dear old rhymes we big and little children
love so well, and just where the real Jack Sprats and Bobby Shaf-
toes and King Coles lived, and who they were, and what they did.
So it is meant for the older members of the family as well as for the
little folk, and with its handsome cover and superb colored illustra-

tions by Mr. Kappes, is really a fine addition to the library table, and
a beautiful household book.
of bright, entertaining talks about Animals and Birds, by Professor
Norman A. Calkins and Mrs. Abby Morton Diaz, issued in pamphlet
form, but with brilliantly colored pictures, and bound in soft covers
of beautiful colors and designs. Each book is devoted to some one
family or order ofNatural History,-"The Cow Family," The Cat
Family," "The Birds of Prey," etc ,-and the reading matter is so
simple, clear and interesting, and the pictures are so numerous and
striking, that we can commend the books heartily to all our young
friends who wish to learn about common animals and birds.


I. BEHEAD a title of honor, and leavehoursof darkness. 2. Behead
to delay, and leave a small island. "3. Behead to twist, and leave a
kind of vase. 4. Behead a part of the face, and leave a pleasant out-
door exercise. 5. Behead thoroughly searched, and leave dressed. 6.
Behead to strip, and leave a fish. 7. Behead a shoe, and leave a felled
tree. 8. Behead articles used in games of chance, and leave a thing
in which boys delight. 9. Behead a punctuation mark, and leave a
tree. 1o. Behead an insect, and leave a metallic pin of a certain kind.
ii. Behead congealed vapor, and leave an adverb. 12. Behead one
European country, and leave another. 13. Behead a helmet, and
leave a constellation. 14. Beheadakind of sloth, and leave a personal
pronoun. 15. Behead an adjective, and leave a way.


{ _

ARRANGE the dominos of a full set of twenty-eight in the outline of
the diagram, and in such a way that each half-domino shall appear as
one of the quarters of a square containing three other half-dominos
having each the same number of spots as itself,-just like the four tries
in the diagram,-and, also, so that, in the completed arrangement,

there shall be two such squares, each containing four half-dominos
marked alike. Of course, to accord with this last condition, two
squares of re's should have been shown in the diagram; but that
would have made the solution too easy, so the second square was
omitted. Still, the dominos actually given are part of an arrange-
ment such as is required, and the way to lay the remaining twenty-
four pieces of the set is indicated,--whether up-and-down or across;
but there are other arrangements beside this.
If, however, the given outline is preserved in the solutions sent in,
they will be accepted as correct, provided they show the two sets of
squares; and the number of each person's successful solutions will be
mentioned with the name.
MY first is in "Scribner," but not in "Harper;" my second in
"Times," but not in Ledger; my third is in Nation," but not
in Observer; my fourth is in Independent." but not in "Post; "
my fifth is in "Churchman," but not in Presbyterian; my sixth is
in "Harper," but not in "Scribner;" my seventh is in "Observer,"
but not in "Times;" my eighth is in "Ledger," but not in "Nation;"
my ninth is in "Agriculturist," but not in "Tribune;" my tenth is
in Standard," but not in "Churchman; my whole was a well-
known light of his times and a lover of children. L. G. H.

O WHO can wonder at the sadness of my eyes,
Or who can wonder at my mournful, piteous cries,
For chains are ever most familiar things to me,-
And, tho' to letters given, I 'm made to swim the sea?
THE square is of three letters; so, of course, the foundation words
have five letters each.
Reading Across: i. Pure and easily seen through. 2. Dreads.
3. Pies.
Reading Down: a. Gather. 2. Rends. 3. Portions.
H. H. D.
1. IT makes no difference 3. These should be grandly high
Under the sun, For heart or brain.
Whether you count me twelve 'T is not by looking low,
Or only one. That Heaven we gain.
2. This is the pretty name 4. The last a blessing is
Of a fair lake, To weary one;
On which you would delight To us may it remain
A sail to take. When life is done. L. w. H.

THE whole, composed of thirty-four letters, is a well-known line
quoted from a poem written by Thomas Gray.
I. The 1, 26, 34, is sport or merriment. 2. The 3, r6, 25, 8, is a
beautiful flower. 3. The io, 6, 13, 30, is a young wild animal. 4.
The 15, 23, 27, 33, is a fragrant flower. 5. The 18, 2, 7, is a small
cake. 6. The 20, 29, I7, 32 is a trick or artifice. 7. The 24, 19, i2,
21, is a gift or favor. 8. The 28, 9, 4, 4,, is a large public room. 9.
The 31, 22, 14, 5, is the stalk of a plant. ISOLA.







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THE answer-a maxim often heard-contains six words. The picture in the upper left-hand corner is a rebus; and the rest of the
puzzle is in the form of an anagram. Each numeral beneath the anagram-pictures denotes a letter in that word of the maxim whose
place in numerical succession is indicated by that particular numeral. Thus: The numeral i under a picture denotes a letter belonging
to the first word of the maxim; 3, that its letter is in the third word of the maxim; and so on. The fourth word of the answer, however, is
wholly represented by the rebus-picture. To solve the puzzle:-Write down, some distance apart, the figures 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6, to correspond
with the words of the answer. Set down the solution of the rebus-picture under figure 4, and then, for the remainder of the problem: find
a word, letters, or a letter, suitably descriptive of each picture, using as many letters for each description as there are numerals beneath its
picture. Group beneath figure i all the letters denoted by the numeral i in the numbering beneath the pictures. There will thus be in one
group all the letters that go to form the first word of the answer, and these letters, when set in the right order, will spell the word itself.
Repeat this process in finding the remaining words; and all the words, when read off in due order, will be the answer.


3. Proas; 4. Peart; 5. Yesty II. x. New; 2. Eve; 3. Web. III.
I. Year; 2. Ezra; 3. Arts; 4. Rasp.
EASY lMELANGE.-- Teasel, Easel; 2. Teasel, Tease; 3. Teasel,
Lease; 4. Teasel, Least; 5. Least, slate; 6. Teasel, Ease; 7. Easel,
seal; 8. Easel, Sale; 9. Least, Teal; xo. Least, slat; nI. Least,
Late; 12. Least, Salt; 13. Least, Tael; 14. Least, Tale; 15. Slate,
Last; 16. Tease, Seat; 17. Tease, East; i8. Tease, Sate; 19. Easel,
Lees; 2o. Easel, Seel; 21. Teal, Lea; 22. Teal, Ale; 23. Tael, Tea;
24. Tael, Eat; 25. East, Sea; 26. Lees, Sea; 27. Lees, Eel; 28. Seel,
Lee; 29. Tale, Let.
EASY DECAPITATIONS.-I. Fall, All. 2. Smart, Mart. 3. Crash,
Rash. 4. TI,.. High. 5. Cowl, Owl. 6. Ship, Hip. 7. Pledge,
Ledge. 8. T I Ask.
EASY PREFIX PUZZLE.-i. Trans-verse; 2. Trans-late; 3. Trans-
port; 4. Trans-it; 5. Trans-act; 6. Trans-pose.
ACCIDENTAL HIDINGS.-On earth peace good-will toward men:
I. Lo now. Hear te. 3. Peaceful. 4. Goodies. 5. Willing. 6.
To war-dyed. 7. Come nigh.
DIAGONAL, FOR OL)ER PUZZLERS. Happy New Year.-i. Hiero-

glyphic; a. PArsimonious; 3. RiP Van Winkle; 4. StiPulations;
5. PachYdermata; 6. PatroNymical; 7. CorporEalist; 8. Earthen-
Wares; 9. LepodactYles; 1o. MultiloquEnt; n1. MetaphoricAl;
12. ManufactureR.
CENTRAL ACROSTIC.-Shoe-maker: I. CaSte; 2. EtHer; 3. SpOke;
4. ClEar; 5. CoMic; 6. FrAnc; 7. BaKer; 8. StEel; 9. PeRry.
DOUBLE AMPUTATIONS.--. Crusty, rust, us. 2. Grated, rate, at;
3. Moment, omen, me; 4. Cringe, ring, in.
PICTORIAL QUINTUPLE AcROSTIC.-Perpendiculars: Coast-view;
Fishermen; Schooners; Moonlight; Night-time.
I. CufFS MeN; 2. OCOII; 3. AsS, HOG; 4 SOutH, NortH;
5. TO LET; YTT..-:. Snake-rooT; 7. IMaGEI; 8. Ess
RHEuM; 9. 1. i. i i.
HOLIDAY ANAGRAM.-IMyrrh, I come, Star, Stall; Merry Christ-
mas to all. ANAGRAM PROVERB.-Make haste slowly.
3. Payment; 4. Newsboy; 5. Pelican; 6. Sideway.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA.-In God we trust. CHARADE.-Pumpkin.
CONCEALED HALF-SQUARE,-I. Plaster; 2. Lasted; 3. Asked; 4.
Stem; 5. Ted; 6. Ed; 7. R.

ANSWERS TO PUZZLIS IN THE DECEMBER NUMBER were received before December ao, from Fritters "-Estelle Jennings-Jennie A. Sey
and Southwick'. I- -- -...i .. Waters-Lulu Balcome-Bessie S. Worke-" Piccola Bedadly" and Harry"-Brainard P. Emery-Susan
T. Homans-J.. ... i ..-r. S. King-" Trix" and Octsy"-" E. C. G." and G. H. G.-Florence Griffen-Edith G. White-C. H.
Stout-" Citchfield "-" C. H. T."-Eddie and Sarah Duffield-Bernard C. Steiner-Lizzie H. D. St. Vrain and Fritz "-Anne H. Green-
Ratie P. Allen-F. W. : I ..i-- I ..: J. Gemmill-J. R. S. and L. S.-F. A. O.-M. and K. H.-Nellie i... ,..- i., I i
Cammie H. S. C.-" Th- ti. "--Margie J. Robling-Allan D. Wilson-" X. V. Z" and "I. O. 0. 1 H '... r- .. ,.
Charles N. Cogswell-" H.W.," and "Euphonium, alias Baritone"--Howard Cresswell-" H. O. T. S & Co "-Estella Lohmeyer--Bertha
E. K F.. .., .-T.i. -.i -C-arrie-" Katy and Maund"-P. C. T.:.... ii-,.ii:. i l.stein-John V. L. Pierson-Bessie and her Cousin-
Gile :I. I ..-- !-! I -I .l....--Ti......* L. Turrill-Editl. I i.--i. a. Riedel--Arnod Guyot Cameron-Alice Lanigan-
"Two Wills "-Lucy I I ll.-:, .I I ..-George J. Fiske-Esther L.-"Dycie."