Front Cover
 Little Puritans
 The flame of a street lamp
 A song of Easter
 The dew in the rose - Spoiling...
 The reward of virtue
 The boy astronomer
 The little big woman and the big...
 Beating the bounds
 A boarding-school
 Shower and flower
 King Wichtel the first
 A morning call from a panther
 Little housemaids
 A jolly fellowship
 Arthur and Romeo
 Tick, tock! Tick, tock!
 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_00072
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. 6
mods:topic Children's literature -- Periodicals.
Literature for Children
St. Nicholas, vol. 6, no. 6
Saint Nicholas
mods:typeOfResource text
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P1 Page
D3 Little Puritans Chapter
P3 Plate
P4 369
P5 370 3
P6 371 4
D5 The flame a street lamp
P7 372
P8 373
D6 A song Easter Poem
P9 374
D7 dew in the rose 5
P10 375 (MULTIPLE)
P11 376
D8 reward virtue
P12 377
D9 boy astronomer 7
P13 378
P14 379
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P16 381
P17 382
D10 little big woman and girl 8
P18 383
D11 Eyebright 9
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P21 386
P22 387
P23 388
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P24 389
P25 390
P26 391
P27 392
P28 393
P29 394
P30 395
D13 boarding-school 11
P31 396
D14 Shower flower 12
P32 397
D15 King Wichtel first 13
P33 398
P34 399
P35 400
D16 morning call from panther 14
P37 402
D17 housemaids 15
P38 403
P39 404
P40 405
P41 406
P42 407
P43 408
P44 409
P45 410
D18 Milton 16
P46 411
P47 412
P48 413
P49 414
D19 jolly fellowship 17
P50 415
P51 416
P52 417
P53 418
P54 419
P55 420
P56 421
P57 422
P58 423
D20 Arthur Romeo 18
P59 424
D21 Tick, tock! 19
P60 425
D22 Jack-in-the-pulpit 20
P61 426
P62 427
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P64 429
P65 430
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St. Nicholas, vol. 6, no. 6
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00072
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas, vol. 6, no. 6
Series Title: St. Nicholas.
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: -c1943.
Subjects / Keywords: Literature for Children
Genre: Children's literature
serial   ( sobekcm )
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: notis - ocm0176
oclc - 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
oclc - (DLC) 2006255186; 55136171
System ID: UF00065513:00072

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Little Puritans
        Page 369
        Page 370
        Page 371
    The flame of a street lamp
        Page 372
        Page 373
    A song of Easter
        Page 374
    The dew in the rose - Spoiling a bombshell
        Page 375
        Page 376
    The reward of virtue
        Page 377
    The boy astronomer
        Page 378
        Page 379
        Page 380
        Page 381
        Page 382
    The little big woman and the big little girl
        Page 383
        Page 384
        Page 385
        Page 386
        Page 387
        Page 388
    Beating the bounds
        Page 389
        Page 390
        Page 391
        Page 392
        Page 393
        Page 394
        Page 395
    A boarding-school
        Page 396
    Shower and flower
        Page 397
    King Wichtel the first
        Page 398
        Page 399
        Page 400
    A morning call from a panther
        Page 401
        Page 402
    Little housemaids
        Page 403
        Page 404
        Page 405
        Page 406
        Page 407
        Page 408
        Page 409
        Page 410
        Page 411
        Page 412
        Page 413
        Page 414
    A jolly fellowship
        Page 415
        Page 416
        Page 417
        Page 418
        Page 419
        Page 420
        Page 421
        Page 422
        Page 423
    Arthur and Romeo
        Page 424
    Tick, tock! Tick, tock!
        Page 425
        Page 426
        Page 427
    The letter-box
        Page 428
        Page 429
        Page 430
    The riddle-box
        Page 431
        Page 432
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text







/ i


_ _


VOL. VI. APRIL, 1879. No. 6.

[Copyright, 1879, by Scribner & Co.]



ONCE when I was in Texas I went into a little
German church, where the children were to be
catechized, and found the sacristan ringing a chime
of bells. It was in the back country, and the church
was only a plain little wooden shed; but they had
hung two bells, about as large as dinner-bells, under
the open roof, and the bell-ringer was ringing them
alternately. The tune had not much variety about
it, but I suppose it made the older people think of
the Germany they had left behind, for when people
go into a new country they try their best to keep
some memory of the old. Our New England
ancestors, when they came here, brought Old En-
gland names with them for their towns and many
Old England customs; but they did not at first
bring bells for their churches, and, instead, a man
stood on the door-step and beat a drum. Drums
they had, for the meni were all, or nearly all, sol-
diers. They did not keep a great army, but every
one had his musket and sword and spear, for pro-
tection against the hostile Indian or the wild beast.
Indeed, when Sunday came and everybody went to
church, you would have supposed there was to be a
drill or a fight, for there stood the drummer on the
step, and the men coming down the broad path
were all or nearly all armed; besides, upon the
square, fort-like building, in which they first held
their meetings, men were stationed on the lookout
for enemies.
We call the drum the Puritan church-bell, but in
those days the churches in New England were
called meeting-houses,"-the same as synagogue,
which word you find in the New Testament, and
there were a good many points in common between
VOL. VI.-26.

the Jewish synagogue and the New England meet-
ing-house. Let us enter the meeting-house on a
Sunday and see what is done there. You will
not fail to see the pulpit, which is very high and
often overhung by a sounding-board, such as still
remain in some old churches. This is the preacher's
place, and before him stands an hour-glass filled
with sand; for there is no clock in the house, and
when the minister begins his sermon he turns the
glass and expects to preach till the last grain of
sand has run through. Immediately below the
pulpit sit the ruling elders, facing.the congregation,
and still further down in the same position sit the
deacons. Then comes the congregation, and you
could very quickly tell who were the most impor-
tant people by the place they have in the church,
for it is the business of a committee once a year to
seat the people according to.their generalrank in
the place, and- many a bitter family quarrel has
sprung up from disappointment at riot being well
placed. I think a good text for the :minister to
preach from when the time for seating came would
be James ii., i-io.
The people do not sit in families, but the men sit
on one side and the women on the other, while the
boys have a place by themselves. Very likely the
floor is sanded, and if it is winter the boys have
brought little foot-stoves for their mothers and sis-
ters to put under their feet during the long service.
A long service it is. For first the pastor makes a
prayer which lasts a quarter of an hour, then the
teacher reads and expounds a chapter in the Bible.
Nowadays one generally hears the chapter read, in
whatever church, without comment, but then it was


held that this savored of a superstitious respect for
the Bible, as if one must simply listen to it and not
understand it. Then one of the ruling elders dic-
tates a psalm out of the Bay psalm-book, which the
people sing. These psalms were made imitations in
meter of the Psalms of David, and the people only
had about ten tunes in all which they could sing.
They did not like to sing the psalms just as they
stood, for the English Church did that, and they
wished to ignore that church in every possible way,
so they put the psalms into very troublesome rhyme,
and without any musical instrument sang them as
well as they could to one of their ten tunes.
After the singing the pastor preaches his hour-
long sermon, and adds often an exhortation, then
the teacher prays and pronounces a blessing.
The same service is held in the afternoon, except
that the pastor and teacher change places. Per-
haps there is baptism also, when a little child born
since the last Sunday, or it may be this very day,
is brought in. If there is a contribution, the people
go up by turns and place their money in a box
which the deacons keep, and sometimes, if they
have no money, they bring goods and corn and the
like and place them on the floor.
Do you wonder that in the long service, all of
which pretty much was carried on by the minister,
the people, and especially the boys, became tired
and restless ? On cold winter days, as the sermon
drew near an end, you could have heard men
knocking their half frozen feet together, and then
was the time, too, or on drowsy summer afternoons,
when the tithing-man was busy. Who was the
tithing-man ? He was a parish officer whose special
business it was to see that the Sabbath was not
broken, and who spent his time in church looking
after the boys to see that they behaved themselves.*
He had a long staff which he carried, much as a
sheriff does. He did not always walk up and down
before the children. Sometimes he stood behind
them, and a boy whose head fell over from sleepi-
ness would feel a thump on the crown presently
from the staff of the watchful tithing-man. Many
of the seats in the old churches were on hinges,
and when people stood up at the blessing, you
would hear the seats go slamming against the backs
of the pews all over the house like a succession of
cannon-crackers. I fancy that the boys who were
eager to get away slammed a little harder than was
really necessary.
Sunday with the Puritans began at sunset Satur-
day and lasted until sunset of Sunday. But that is
only one day out of seven, though I am afraid it
was a long day to many. We are very apt to think
of the Puritans as always going to meeting, and
little Puritans we imagine as dangling their legs
from high wooden seats and wondering when the

minister was to be through; but think a moment,
remember what New England was at that time, and
you will see a little of what young life must have
been. There were no large cities or towns as now;
there were no screaming railway trains or puffing
steamboats. Boston, the largest town, had not so
many inhabitants as many a Western village may
have in a year's time. There were no great col-
leges and fine public schools, no public halls,
exhibitions, concerts or plays. But then the
country was far wilder and more exciting than it
now is. New England boys spent their time in
fields or in the deep woods, by the banks of the
rivers and upon the shore of the roaring sea, or in
boats tossing on the water. They learned the use
of the bow and the gun, and they had plenty of
game right at their doors. They hunted bears and
deer and trapped foxes. They shot wild turkeys,
wild geese and wild ducks. They did not have to
wait for vacation and then go off a great distance
from home, but this was their daily occupation.
Then, perhaps, as they walked through the forest
they came upon the red Indian, who was not mak-
ing baskets and miniature canoes, but hunting as
they were. If they lived by the sea or rivers, as
nearly all did at first, they had their fishing, swim-
ming, rowing and sailing. This was all part of
their work as well as their sport, and hard lives they
led of it, too, for from early youth they worked
with the elder men, laying out roads through the
woods, digging wells and ditches, making walls
and fences, keeping out wolves and wild-cats.
There were houses and barns to be built, ships
and boats to make, mills, fortifications and churches.
There were farms and orchards to lay out and cul-
tivate, and when winter came, they went into the
woods and cut down the forest trees, and when the
snow was hard, they sledded the logs to the wood-
pile, the timber to the mill. They had not the
various labor-saving machines, but every one had
to work hard with plain tools; and as there were
few stores, people raised or made nearly all that
they themselves needed to use.
The girls, too, had their work. Every home had
its spinning-wheel and loom, and the women and
young girls spun and wove all the clothing and
household stuff. They had to take care of the
houses, and they had their out-door life also, work-
ing on the farm and in the field. When the long
winter evenings came they read by the fireside, and
had their quilting bees and their husking frolics.
There was plenty of wood in the forest, and the
wood-piles were built high, so they stuffed the great
logs into the big chimney and had roaring fires,
which did not warm the houses as our furnaces do,
but were vastly more cheerful and more wholesome.
There was not much schooling with books, and

* See Frontispiece.





there were few who spent as much time in school
as most children now spend in vacation.
Now, all new countries require work, and New
England boys and girls had to work hard; but it
was not work only which made New England so
well known and so great that hundreds of books
have been written about her and will continue to


preachers; but the day which they kept so rigor-
ously was always reminding them that there was
something more to be done than to get rich fast
and spend their riches on themselves; that they
were to please God and not themselves. They
did not always go to work the right way to please
Him, but they did not forget Him and think only


be written for generations to come. It was Sunday
and work together that made her great. The boys
and girls who heard the drum call them to church,
and sat restlessly there under the eye of the tithing-
man, did not always understand what was said,
and many times foolish things were said by the

of their merchandise. The children in meeting-
house and at work learned self-control, learned
that it was manlier and better to labor than to be
self-indulgent, and they were never allowed to
think that they could do anything they chose. We
live in happier times now, and should think it very


odd to see boys always take off their hats, and
girls courtesy when they met older people in the
road; to write letters to our fathers which begin
Honored Sir, and to treat our parents as if they
were judges of the supreme court; '.-ut because
little Puritans did these things, you must -r..' f;-..
they did not love their parents, or that their parents
did not love them. There are many beautiful
letters written at that time which show that fathers

and mothers cared for their homes as they cared
for nothing else but God.
So when we think of the stiff, hard-looking
Puritans, we may remember that they hated lies
and worked hard. The little Puritans grew up
in a free out-of-door life, and learned in childhood
to set duty before pleasure. And it was out
of such stuff that the men and women of the
Revolution came.



ONCE there was a gas-lamp just lighted and
burning brightly in one of the side streets of a large
There !" said the flame, as she settled herself
down; now, we '11 have a quiet night of it."
Crash came a stone through one of the upper
panes of glass of the frame that inclosed her. The
stone came from the other side of the street; it was
thrown by a boy in a ragged jacket and a fur cap,
and was aimed at a cat which was walking stealthily
along on the top of the fence.
"Oh !" cried the flame, bending as far away as
her hold on the burner would allow; "why can't
people have a regard for one's feelings ? I saw him
do it; it was very careless. It is exceedingly
unpleasant to have one of your glasses broken.

One does n't know what might happen. It leaves
one exposed to all sorts of things. It's fortunate
there's so little wind to-night, or I might be blown
Just then four very little hobgoblins came along.
They had been out on a frolic, and were going home,
very merry and very mischievous.
Hulloo," said one of them. See here; let's
go in and tease her."
So in they all four went through the broken pane
of glass.
Oh I shrieked the flame, as they flew in, and
she bent away from them.
A great, burly policeman was walking slowly
along the street, and he came and stopped under
the lamp-post and said:
"How this gas flickers and sings Ah, there's
a broken pane. I must have it mended to-
And he leaned back against the lamp-post and
stood there, whistling softly to himself.
See her!" said the hobgoblins, as they crowded
together all in a corner and looked at her.
The flame straightened herself up and tried to
go on burning as if she were quite unconscious that
anything unusual was going on. They had been
sobered a little by finding themselves inside of one
of the large lamps they had always looked at from
the outside, and so near this bright, strange creat-
ure; and they kept so quiet for a few minutes that,
as she steadily looked the other way, she almost
began to believe that she was alone. But soon
they began to recover themselves.
"Look at her !" said one of them.
See her blush !" said another.



She was blushing, and she knew it; and when
she knew that they knew it, and were looking at
her, she blushed all the more, though she tried
hard to stop.
She makes believe not to know that we are
here," said the hobgoblin who came in last; "I'll
make her know."
And he stepped forward, and, with his long fore-
finger, poked her.
Oh !" shrieked the flame again, bending aside.
She really could n't help it; it is n't pleasant to
be poked with a hobgoblin's long forefinger. She
determined she would lean as far away as possible;
so she bent away from them and went on burning
as best she could, trying to control her trembling.
She tries to get out of our way," said the hob-
goblin who came in next the first; go round to
the other side of her. Let's each take a corner,
then she can't dodge us."
So they did. Then the flame became dreadfully
frightened. She stood straight up on tiptoe and
shrieked at the top of her voice. She hoped the
policeman below would know what the matter was.
But he did n't. He simply kept leaning against
the lamp-post and whistling quietly.
He was thinking of his little girl at home; how
sweet and pretty she was, and how beautifully she
always bore the teasing, tormenting ways of her
brothers, and how dark his home would be if
some day she were suddenly to disappear. Persons
passing by were struck by his stern expression.
His face looked almost savage in the flickering
Meanwhile the hobgoblins were getting worse
than ever in their malicious sport. It was such fun
to see the poor little thing on tiptoe, vainly striving
to get out of their reach !
Oh," said the flame in a whisper to herself, as
she sank back again exhausted with the effort; "I
really cannot bear this."
But she had to bear it, and not this only. The
hobgoblins whistled in her ears; they trod on her
toes; they pushed her knees in from behind, and
made her courtesy suddenly; they twitched her
hair; they pinched her; they stooped down, with
their hands on their knees, and blew in her face.
Oh-h-h-h gasped the flame. You let me
alone! You let me alone! If you don't, I'll go
"Hear her !" said the hobgoblins; "she says
she '11 go out! We should like to know what
she means by that. Go out, indeed We should
like to see her do it. She thinks she 'd get rid
of us; but she would n't; we 'd go after her."

I,'' f




I -, .,
Out," cr cd
the poor flame; and she went out.
She did go out, did n't she ?" said the hobgob-
lins, as they groped about to find the broken pane.
"I wonder where she's gone to," said the last
one as he crawled out.
"Hullo!" said the policeman; and he stopped
whistling and looked up, in a puzzled way, at the
broken lamp; "I did n't think there was wind
enough stirring to-night to blow that gas out."
And there was n't.

'* *-* ^\

''SING, chil. dren, sin

d the lily centers swing;
Sp ring;
A SONG little children, sing-
yCELIA T X T, R. -C tk 'a. .

., SIG, children, sing!

in I d the lily censers swing;
that life and joy are waking and that Death no mor: r li. *- ,

ong the eaves the icicles no longer glittering cling L-
ad g rocus the garden lifts its bright face to the -.

Aad in the meadows softly the brooks begin to run: 'I
Ai-d the golden catkins swing
the warm airs of the Spring;
Sing, little children, sing! ,
Sing, children, sing!
T e lilies white you bring
the air with thjoyous e sweet tidmornings till thfor e frosty echoe ming;. :

S nd as the earth her shroud of snow from off her breast doth fling,

i may we w cast our f off in God's eternal Spring

If o may we find release at last from sorrow and from pain,
ay we fing, little childhood's calm, delicious dawn again.
eet are your eyes, 0 little ones, tt lk wh s,
'" f y T.ine lilies white you bring 2 -- .

"i,, i~i | .thout a shade of doubt or fear into the Future's facing

-.'g, sing in happy chorus, with joyful voices tell
,I ath death is life, and God is good, and all things shall e well;

t : mat bitter days shall cease
I '1 warm the and eleght and peace,st fro sorro
h1. at e Winter yields to Spring,
S a Sing, little children, sing!
g, sig in happy chorus, with joyful voices tell
'-; i i'at death is life, and God is good, and all things shall be well;
,"; -'. ,Tat bitter days shall cease
-', 'k, \ Ind warmth and light and peace,-s
',. I'.', !. lat Winter yields to Spring,- o

"U| -a -r






THE Dew fell into the heart of a Rose, and lay
in a blissful dream.
The sun had just set, and the young moon hung
in the sky, but so narrow was her silver rim that
the earth was almost dark.
It would be more blessed to die here than to
live elsewhere," said the Dew, looking up at a Star,
and the Star looked down at the Dew with such a
bright smile that she shone, too. Soon the petals
of the Rose began to close around her. She could
not see them more; but she was surely being shut
into the heart of the Rose, and a strange terror
filled her so that she sprang up to free herself, but
too late. The central petals held her fast, though
the outer ones still lay blandly open. Then the
Dew called piteously for the Humming-Bird, the
Butterfly and the Honey-Bee, to come and set her
free; but they were fast asleep and did not hear.
So she sank helplessly back into her rose prison, in

the delicious atmosphere of which she soon fell
asleep and forgot her troubles.
From the moment the Dew fell, an ugly sprite
had been flitting around the edge of the Rose. It
was the hot South-Wind, a servant of the Sun, and
the sworn enemy of the Dew. The Sun left him
behind that he might breathe upon the Dew to
destroy her. But the Night, watchful mother over
her sleeping children, bade the Rose fold the Dew
close and safe from harm until morning. So when
the morning came, and a West-Wind had driven
away the hot South-Wind, the Rose opened her
petals and the Dew awoke.
I wonder why the Rose so unkindly shut me
in," she murmured, "and now my beautiful star
is gone !"
Thoughtless little Dew That which seemed a
prison was the sheltering bosom of Love, in which
you lay safely shielded from the unseen Evil.



WHEN Tom Black was in his fourteenth year,
he was at school in a small village in the south of
England, and was as happy a boy as any fellow
ought to expect to be; and yet on his birthday,
when he was really fourteen, he ran away to sea.
No one could possibly imagine why he did this,
and, indeed, Tom himself could give no good
reason for his conduct.
He had a half-holiday on his birthday, and he
went down to the sea-port town of M-- a short
trip from the school, to spend a few hours and to
see the ships. There he fell in with a recruiting
officer, who wanted some boys for a man-of-war in
the harbor, and Tom was so much pleased with the
stories he told of life at sea, that he went into a sta-
tioner's store, bought some paper and wrote two
notes, one to his family at home and the other to
the master of the school, informing them that he
had a most admirable opportunity of going to sea
and learning to be a naval officer. Such a chance
might not occur again, and as he had made up his

mind to enter the navy, any way, it would not be
wise to let the opportunity pass. He would lose
nothing by leaving school now, for navigation,
mathematics, and everything that it was necessary
for a naval officer to know, were taught on the ship.
Then he mailed the letters and went on board.
When Tom's father and the master received
these notes, it is probable that they would have
taken measures to get Tom off that ship in very
short order, had it not been for the fact that the
vessel sailed early the next morning after Tom
made his appearance on her deck, and she was far
out at sea before Mr. Black and Dr. Powers had
read their letters.
So there was nothing to be done at home but to
hope that things would eventually turn out for the
best, and indeed this was what Tom himself had to
do. For he soon found that his position on the
vessel was very different from what he. had sup-
posed it would be. Instead of being taught how to
sail the ship, he was taught how to coil a rope and


to help wash the decks. He was a ship's boy,-
not a midshipman.
When poor Tom found out this lamentable fact,
he made up his mind that he would run away the
first time the vessel touched at a port. But when
she did reach a port, he re-made up his mind, and
concluded to stay on board.
By a little observation he found out that it would
be a difficult and dangerous thing for him to try to
run away, and besides he had no money to take
him home. It would be better, he thought, to

But after he had been on board the "Hector"
about six months, he got a short letter, which pleased
him more than anything in the letter line he had ever
received. This told him that, as his friends had
become convinced that he was really very much
attached to a life on the sea, and that as his officers
had reported well of him, they had obtained for
him an appointment as midshipman.
Now Tom was happy. Now he would really
learn mathematics and navigation, and now he had
a chance to work himself up into a good position.


stay on board the ship, where he had made some
friends, and where he was getting on a good deal
better than any other ship-boy. For the under-
officers soon found out that Tom was made of better
stuff than the other boys, and they could not help
thinking, too, that he had been a great fool to
come on board in such a position. But they did
not tell him so, for that would have helped no one,
and might have spoiled a very good ship's-boy.
Tom wrote home whenever he had a chance,
and he had some long letters from his family,
which were forwarded to him with the other letters
for the ship.

It would seem as if this thoughtless boy had been
rewarded for running away from school, and giving
his family so much anxiety and trouble. But things
sometimes happen i--, r -.. though it does not do to
trust to any such good fortune. In after years, Tom
often regretted that he had not staid at school, and
finished portions of his education which had to be
entirely neglected on board ship. And he also had
some immediate cause for repentance, for he found
that some of his companions were very willing to
joke about the ship's-boy who had come among
them, although they knew that he was just as much
of a gentleman as any of them.



In about a year after Tom's appointment, war
broke out with Spain, and the "Hector" was
ordered to the Spanish coast. After cruising about
for a month or two, she joined with two other
British vessels in an attack on a fortress on the
shore of the Mediterranean Sea, which was at the
same time besieged by a land force.
Early in the morning the three vessels opened
fire on the fort, which soon replied in a vigorous
fashion, sending bombshells and cannon-balls all
around them, and sometimes knocking off a spar
or crashing through some timbers. But the
" Hector" fared very well. She was more advan-
tageously placed than the other ships, and while
she could readily pour in her fire on the fort, she
received fewer shots in return than her consorts.
But, after a time, the enemy began to think that
the Hector" needed rather more attention, and
additional guns were brought to bear upon her.
Now there were lively times on the Hector's"
deck, and Tom found out what it was to be in a
hot fight on board of a ship.
But the boy was not frightened. That was not
his nature. He rushed around, carrying orders
and attending to his duties, very much as if he was
engaged in a rousing good game of cricket.
While he was thus employed, plump on board
came a bombshell, and fell almost at the foot of the
mainmast. The fuse in it was smoking and fizzing.
In an instant more it would explode and tear every-
thing around it to atoms !
Several men were at a gun near by, but they
did not see the bomb. Their lives were almost as
good as gone.
The captain stood just back of the gun. He saw
the smoking bomb, and sprang back. Before -he
had time to even shout Look out !" along came
Tom. He was almost on the bomb before he saw it.
It never took Tom long to make up his mind.

We have seen that. His second thoughts always
came up a long way after the first ones. He gave
one glance at the smoking fuse; he knew that it
was just about to explode, and that it would kill
everybody round about it, and he picked it up and
hurled it into the sea.
When the captain saw Tom stoop, and grasp
that hot,. heavy bomb in his two hands; when he
saw him raise it up, with the fuse spluttering and
fizzing close to his ear,-where, if it had exploded, it
would have blown his head into pieces no bigger
than a pea,-and then dash it over the ship's side,
so that the fuse was, of course, extinguished the
instant it touched the water, he was so astonished
that he could not speak.
He made one step, a warning cry was on his
lips, but before he could say a word it was all over.
When Tom turned, and was about to hurry away
on the errand that had been so strangely inter-
rupted, the captain took him by the arm.
"My good fellow," said he, and although he
had seen much service and had been in many a
fight, the captain could not help his voice shaking
a little; my good fellow, do you know what you
have done ? "
Yes, sir," said Tor, with a smile, I have
spoiled a bombshell."
"And every man in this part of the ship owes
you his life," added the captain.

If you should ever meet Captain Tom Black of
Her Majesty's ship Stinger," you might ask him
about this incident, and he would probably tell you
that he has heard about it a great deal him-
self, and that he believes, from what happened
afterward, that the affair of the bombshell was a
very good thing for him, but that it was all over
so quickly that he has really forgotten almost all
about it.



HIs dear little eyes were full of tears,
But his dear little mouth was smiling.
With his dear little fists in his dear little eyes,
He was really quite beguiling.

He wanted a dear little candy dog
Which belonged to his dear little sister,
And his father called him a dear little pig,
Till he gave up teasing and kissed her.

He could n't help crying a little still,
But he felt like a dear little hero;
Then his sister promised to give him a taste,
And called him a dear little dear O.






c NE cold starlit
Night, Johnny
was coming
from a neigh-
bor's, whither
he had gone
proudly with a
lantern tobring
his sister home
through the
fields, when the
wind blew the
light of the lantern out. This was very provoking.
"Never mind," said the school-master, who had
happened to be at the neighbor's, too, the wind
cannot blow the stars out."
Only when it blows up clouds and storm," said
Behind the cloud is the sun still shining,' "
sang his sister, wrapping her cloak about her.
There is Jupiter shining now behind that little
cloud," said the school-master. "There he comes.
How large he is close to the horizon !-he will be
gone in a few minutes. It's a pity we can't see
his four moons,--what a grand sight he would be
now with his four moons clustered about him, and
all going below the horizon in company "
Pooh I don't believe it t There is n't but
one moon," said Johnny, whose grammar was not
his strong point, and whose familiarity with the
school-master his sister could explain as well as I.
Don't believe what? said the school-master.
That Jupiter has moons ? Perhaps you don't
believe that each one of those fixed stars is a
sun ?"
"Of course not," said Johnny. How can they
be suns? They 're nothing but stars, any way."
They are suns with stars revolving round them,
just as the earth revolves round the sun. Perhaps
you don't believe that the earth is a star ? "
"The earth?" cried Johnny breathlessly. "I
guess so! Oh, come now, you can't sell me
This brown, dirty earth! "
The school-master laughed. How easy disbe-
lief is he cried. It settles all difficulty at once.
Whatanew world of pleasure the urchin has before
him he said to Johnny's sister. Come,-are
you well wrapped ?-let us show him a few of the
constellations. Constellations, Johnny,"he added,
looking up at the stars that shook in the frosty wind

like diamonds hanging on dark threads from the
deep heavens, "are groups of stars that rise and
set together, or nearly so, year after year, as seen
from our earth, and have a resemblance to some
object or other, as the ancients fancied, and as few
of us can see. Seen from some other star, they
would look entirely different. Some of them are
very distinct, though. Do you see the Dipper-the
Great Dipper? There it is," and the school-master
stooped behind Johnny, and pointed up with his
cane; "four large stars and a crooked handle.
Here, turn this way; now, look there "
Yes, yes. I-see it. I see it now! cried
Johnny. "It's ajolly big one!"
That constellation is somewhere to be seen on
every clear night, by us. Some poet describes it,
at this season, as a vase, out of which all the other
stars are poured about the sky. There are two stars
in it called the pointers,-those two,-because they
always pointat the North Star-- "
"I know that," cried Johnny. "That North
Star is the one the darkies used to make for. I
always knew the North Star and the Milky Way."
Did you know that the earth was one of the
stars of the Milky Way? "
"The earth? Oh, come now said Johnny.
Indeed she is, hanging down from it like a
lamp in chains," said Johnny's sister.
Oh, my Truly? Now you're fooling me "
returned Johnny.
Why should we fool' you ? asked.the school-
master. Do you think because a thing is strange
it can't be true ? Do you think, because it is strange,
that there can't be such a thing as double and triple
stars, all different colors, all revolving round each
other, so that as a blue sun sets, a red sun is high
in the sky, and a green sun is rising? "
I should think you thought I was a little boy,
to be amused with fairy stories said Johnny (who
was not a very big boy).
'The fairy tales of science and the long results
of time,' said the school-master. "Well, let us
find another constellation. In the south there is a
wonderful one called the Southern Cross, brighter
than any jewels. But that is on the under side of
our globe, and we on this side cannot see it, of
course. Look along the Milky Way now; see if
you can find a Northern Cross. There it lies,-a
long line of bright stars, almost straight up and
down, just leaning a little, and two arms,-the per-



fect outline of a crucifix. It is the constellation of
the Swan, where it flies down the Milky Way."
It is the prettiest of them all, I think," said
Johnny's sister. It does look so like a piece of
Now let us find Orion, the hunter of the heav-
ens. See, Johnny, if you can discover a great giant
anywhere up there, with a sword dangling from his
belt, holding a round shield before him, and fight-
ing a wild bull, with his dog at his heels. No?
Well, look now, just where I point. There is a big
letter V, with a brighter star at the first tip; that
bright star is named Aldebaran,-almost all the
stars have names. Sailors use that star a great deal
in finding out where they are at sea. That letter
V is called the Hyades,-the rainy Hyades, the an-
cients had it, supposing they brought wet weather.
They make the Bull's face. You see that little group
of fine stars, near by, close as forget-me-nots on a
stem,-seven of them ? Those are the Pleiades- "
"'Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the mellow
Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies, tangled in a silver braid,' "
said Johnny's sister, who was rather sentimental
and very fond of poetry.
"Your verse in the Bible reading this morning
in school spoke of them," said the school-master.
" Caust thou bind the sweet influences of the Ple-
iades?' There's more in that verse than meets
the eye, when we remember that one of those seven
stars has the same influence over all this universe
of stars that the sun has over the earth. Well,
well! Now, Johnny, follow my finger; you have
seen the Pleiades hanging on the side of the Bull
like a swarm of bees; you have seen the Hyades

making the Bull's face, as he butts against the
hunter's shield. Now, go on. You will see three
stars, rather in a slanting line, like a belt. You
have found them? Yes? Then, dropping from
that belt are two fainter stars in a line,-the sword.
Below those, some distance apart, shine two sepa-
rate, bright stars, which are in the giant's knees;
above the belt, some way up, are two others, which

are in his shoulders, and they make a triangle with
a smaller one in his neck. Now, lifted up, half
round the whole, is a great, faint circle of stars,-
the shield. Here, like this," and the school-master
with his cane dotted out holes on the snow in the
right shape. "Now see if, by the help of those
stars, you can make out the great outline of a
hunter leaning along the sky there. And that
blazing star, with a pale-green luster, is Orion's
hound,-Sirius, the dog-star- "
Yes, I've heard tell of the dog-star."
"And now you 've seen it."
Well, I never said Johnny. Is that all?"
"All? It 's not the beginning. But I fancy
your little pitcher has all it can hold to-night. We
will come out again for another lesson."
Lesson ? said Johnny, with a f:,i;11, face. I
did n't know it was a lesson."
You would n't have liked it so well, if you had?
That's the way with all of us, Johnny. But you 'll
find, my boy, that there 's no one moment in life
when you can declare yourself free from lessons."
"It's pleasanter to learn it so than in books,
any way," said Johnny. Would n't it be a jolly
go, if a fellow could have wings and explore it all
for himself? "
Like the comets."
"Comets? Nicholas says that when the comet
comes next time, it will send this world as high as
Gilderoy's kite."
It will slip by like a cloud, and do us no harm;
and we shall only see it shining in the sky on sum-
mer nights, hurrying to pay its visit to the sun."
I guess so "
I was just reading a charming little story about

a comet," said the school-master to Johnny's sister.
" Come, pick up your lantern, Johnny, and we '11
trudge along. This comet, it seems, ages and ages
ago, traveling this way, saw a little star rolling
along, that was n't here when she came by before.
It was the earth; but such a strange earth-all fire
and steam and red-hot lava and molten rock, and
not a living thing but fire and steam upon it. So


the comet said, 'Good-morrow and good-bye. I
hope you 'llbe more tranquil when Icome by again,'
and shook her silver hair and was gone. Ages and
ages afterward, the comet, keeping up her perpet-
ual travel, came this way again. There was the
earth, a world of white vapor now, through which
she saw dimly huge trees, like palms and enormous
ferns, waving heavily to and fro, and strange, hor-
rid, uncouth monsters, of vast bulk and hideous
shape, sliding in and out of the waters and mo-
rasses. Why, this is interesting I' said the comet.
' The little thing is reallyshaping out. I am quite
curious to see what it has in view. Well, good luck
to you!' and off she went again. Ages and ages
afterward, the same comet came along once more;
there was the earth, shining out of her azure atmos-
phere, marble temples were gleaming under the
boughs of graceful trees, fine men and lovely women
were walking over grassy slopes smooth as velvet,
and little rosy children were tumbling among fruit
and flowers. 'Oh 'said the comet, 'what would
n't I give to rest here a little! You lovely earth,
don't change any more till I come back again !'
and, looking behind her, very likely, the comet went
on her tireless way. Now, what do you suppose
she '11 see when, ages and ages hence, the comet
comes back again, Johnny?"
She wont see me!" said Johnny. "I don't
suppose she will. But I wish I had wings to go
after her."
Well, we have almost the same thing as wings
-those of us that have telescopes. Did you never
look through one,-not through a spy-glass ? Then
the next time your father goes to Boston, perhaps
he will take you, and let you look through the tel-
escope on the Common. You will see the spots on
the sun in the day-time, and after dark you will
have a chance to see the rings around Saturn and
the belts and moons of Jupiter."
"I'11 tease till he takes me," said Johnny, scuff-
ing the snow along before him.
And he did.
When Johnny came home from Boston with
his father, some weeks afterward, he kept up a
great thinking and a great whistling, and it was
presently noticed that he had grown alarmingly in-
dustrious; alarmingly, because he demanded pen-
nies for every little act he did, and the f ....i. purse
was threatened with bankruptcy, in consequence.
He sawed the small wood, and piled it, and brought
it in, and picked up the chips, and fed the fire; he
foddered the cows and took care of the pigs,-always
for a consideration. He shoveled the paths in the
snow; he brought the water; he was ready to hold
anybody's horse anywhere; he put up a dreadful-
looking notice in the post-office, to the purport that
Johnny Parsons ran errands for five cents. He

picked up pins and sold them to the boys for old
nails, and sold the nails to the junk-man for old
iron. He took his savings-bank to pieces every
night to count his pennies, his silver, and his scrip.
It was growing into a grand sum total, leaving the
domain of cents and mounting close upon that of
This continued for several weeks, and every day
the hoard grew. The family laughed at Johnny's
miserliness; his mother worried; but, on the whole,
they congratulated themselves on the energy he was
showing, on the way in which he would evidently
get along in the world. But one night Johnny
screwed his savings-bank together triumphantly,
and climbed to set it on top of the clock. From
that moment not one errand did he run, nobody's
horse did he hold, no cows did he fodder, no pen-
nies did he earn, and no wood did he handle, ex-
cept two long, round, mysterious sticks, through
which he was boring with an auger.
Johnny had now a little book on astronomy,-
easy astronomy,-which had been given him by the
school-master, who frequently came in, of an even-
ing, to explain it to him, while his sister leaned over
the other side of the book, as much interested as
he in the school-master's words. This book was
Johnny's Vade Mecum ; it was tucked under his
pillow at night when he went to sleep, and was
pulled out in the morning when he woke up; and
the school-master had to threaten to take it away
from him, unless some little attention were paid to
his other books as well.
"What are you doing, Johnny?" said his mother,
one day as she saw him heating the iron hasp of
a sharp knife-blade, and then plunging it into a
long rod, a slender hole in which had been filled
with rosin, so that, when the rosin cooled, the
blade was fixed securely in the rod. "What are
you doing, Johnny?"
"Making wings," said Johnny; and he ran the
rod, with the knife-blade fixed to it, into the hollow
he had bored in the bigger of the two long, round
sticks, and whirled it round and round, smoothing
off the hole that the auger had made. Making
wings, Ma. I 'm going to call on Jupiter and his
moons. I'm going to get up early and be off with
Miss Venus, while she 's playing morning star.
Great larks, Ma I '1 let you see before long."
Johnny's labors now began to grow somewhat
like a nuisance in the family. Somebody was
always upsetting something of his, either a paint-
pot or a glue-pot,-for the knife-blade kept coming
out of the long rod, and had to be as often replaced,
-and there was always a little track of fine whit-
tlings and sawdust following him from garret to
kitchen. He had bored the hole in the longer and
bigger stick,-it was now a tube,-had smoothed it





and smeared it with black paint inside, as well as
he could, and was busy on the smaller stick; and
it became evident that that was meant for another
tube, which the hole completed in the larger tube
was just big enough to receive; and he bored and
smoothed and smeared, without wasting many
words, till people were fairly growing sick of the
sight of his sticks, his shavings, and his tools, to
say nothing of himself, with his fingers stained
beyond the power of soap, and his trousers ruined

Johnny shut one tube exultingly within the other,
took the precise measurements of the ends, brought
the money out of his savings-bank, and, while he
waited till his father should go again to Boston to
buy goods, beguiled the time with conundrums.
" Pa, why is Saturn the most dishonest of the plan-
ets? Give it up? I'll tell you. Because he 's in
two or three rings at once." And when the thing
grew tedious, and he was sent from the room under
penalties, he would put his head back and sing out,

. LI ':'
I': i f'i


.I \\,. ._ __


with blotches of rosin and paint and with cuts from
his implements, which were sharpened to such an
extent that his father expected to see the grind-stone
explode any day. He had left the bark on the first
stick; but the second one must be made smooth on
the outside as well as on the inside, as it had to
slide in and out of the larger. He peeled it care-
fully; rubbed it on the outside with rotten-stone,
painted it black, and with a dry cloth wiped off as
much of the paint as would come off; painted it
over, and wiped off the paint again; painted it
over, and wiped it off again, and so on, till at last
the little round, hollow stick was as smooth and
shining as the lacquered panel of a coach. He had
already smoothed and blackened it inside. Then

" Sis I guess you can't tell why Jupiter 's the
champion star! Eh? eh?"
"I 'm sure I can't! And I don't want to!"
would be the impatient reply.
Because he 's got the Belt But, say, look
here, any of you,-what constellation's John the
Baptist like?"
Oh, you bad, bad boy "
Too' much for you? The Great Dipper!"
Johnny would exclaim, and slam the door just in
But as it grew toward the time for Mr. Parsons
to take the journey that he took only twice a year,
words cannot describe the docility of Johnny's.
behavior. He brushed his hair before coming to


the table, without being told; he made superhuman
exertions not to thrust his knife down his throat,
even going to the point of putting the crisp fried
potato on his fork with his fingers before carrying
the fork to his lips; he went about on tiptoe, shut
the doors carefully, forgot to whistle, asked no
conundrums,-determined if good conduct could
do it to make it impossible for his father to refuse
him a favor. Mr. Parsons had not the least inten-
tion of refusing; and he took the money at last,
and the little scrap of directions, which Johnny
with abject fear and trembling handed to him, and
mounted the stage in which he drove to the distant
railway station, and took all Johnny's hopes with
Johnny could hardly say he lived in the days
while his father was gone; he took no note of any-
thing but the going and coming of the stage; he
paid no heed to his lessons; he hardly ate nor
drank nor slept; his nerves were so stretched with
impatience that he felt like exclaiming at any noise
and crying at any sharp word. He grew so white
and thin in that prolonged fortnight, that his
mother had to talk seriously with him, and he
forced himself to eat, under threats of the doctor
and Stoughton's Elixir.
But at last the stage drove up, and his father
slowly clambered down from it. Before he spoke
a word to his father, Johnny undid the parcel that
he tossed him,-his father might have broken it,-
and then the revulsion came, and he sprang into
his father's arms and burst into tears.
It was a tiny parcel after all,-just the brass
pieces and the lenses. Johnny knew he could
hardly make the lenses himself before he was an
old man, and he had found out where they were to
be had, and had sent for them. He got out his
tubes and proceeded to fit them; his hands shook
so it was impossible at first; but he would not let
his father or the school-master help him; he
waited,-in what suspense!-and steadied his hand,
and tried again; and they fitted to a nicety !
All the neighbors, meanwhile, had heard of
Johnny's work, and the news spread like wild-fire
that at length it was completed and was going to
be tried that night-a long six-months' work. But
that night a thunder shower came up, and it settled
into a long rain, and it was not till sunset of the
third day that clear sky was seen again, and only
on the sky was first trial to be made.

What a splendid sunset it was with the great
clouds driving away before the west wind and all
aflame with color,-Johnny's heart was dancing
like the rainbowed drops upon the leaves. He
took his bread and milk to the doorstep to eat it
there while he watched the twilight fall, the dark-.

ness gather, and one by one the stars steal out
blossoming like flowers upon the dusk.
"There's Lyra," said Johnny, throwing back
his head so far that his bread nearly choked him.
"There 's Vega, straight overhead. And there's
-yes, there 's Jupiter, the great beauty "
Once Johnny would have said old Jupe "; but
there was an unaccountable bashfulness upon him
to-night; he hardly dared take any liberties with
the planet he was so soon to visit, one of whose
satellites was going into eclipse,-and if he was to
be privileged to attend that ceremony dignity and
decorum were in order. What a night it was !-
scarcely a breath stirring, the air rich with fragrance
that the late rain had rolled in, and so clear that
the stars swung great and golden and shining
above the little earth as if they were only made to
canopy her. Johnny went in and got his treasure.
Come," he said to his mother. "I'm going
to try my wings."
He saw them all come out and follow him, but
he dared not speak another word. What if the
thing was wrong; what if it failed; what if it
showed him nothing i There were the neighbors,
here and there, coming up the field in the dim
dark. There were the school-boys, down in the
hollow. Everybody knew that Johnny Parsons
had made a telescope, and was going to try it to-
night,-everybody had come to see. It was very
kind of them,-but if they had only staid away I
How heavy the thing seemed now! It was
all he could do to get along. He reached the
fence at last, where he had driven a couple of
spikes to help support it, and carefully wiped the
glasses with the bit of chamois leather in which
they had come, and lifted it to its place. He
waited then to take breath, and then to take
another. It was an awful moment. What if it
showed him nothing; what if those were only
pictures pasted in the telescope on the Common;
what if it was all a fairy story, and there was in
reality nothing to see! And then, on the other
hand, what if he looked and saw the great golden
globe there on the black field, with its four pale
moons floating about it, and one just slipping into
the shadow It vas the initiation into another life,
the entrance into a world as new and strange and
almost as grand as death gives. His hand trembled
so that he could not steady the telescope. He put
his eye there, and for one instant an indistinguish-
able multitude of all sorts of blazing things were
dancing before it; he looked away again and up
into the calm, deep heavens that seemed waiting on
the scrutiny of his little tubes with a mute mockery.
Here, you look he said, pushing it toward
the school-master. I dars n't!"
And Johnny thought the school-master had it,




and the school-master thought Johnny had it; and
between the two it fell from the fence to the rock,
and rolled down the hill, bounding from stone to
stone, and the glasses were broken to splinters,
and the heavens, that had been going to answer
Johnny's search, heard only his lamentations.
When Johnny went to sleep that night, he had
been comforted by the promise of being taken as
companion on part of the wedding-journey of his

sister and the school-master, the next fall, and of
a visit to the great observatory, where swung a
telescope that brushed the silver dust off the very
stars,-for the school-master wisely thought that
permission would hardly be refused to the boy
who at Johnny's age had made a telescope himself.
But as nobody really saw anything through it,
nobody to this day knows whether Johnny made a
telescope or not !


BY M. M. D.

A LITTLE big woman had a big little girl,
And they merrily danced all the day;
The woman declared she was too small to work;
And the girl said: "I 'm too big to play."
So they merrily danced
While the sunlight stayed,
And practiced their steps
In the evening's shade.

" We must eat," said the little big woman. "Why not?"
Why not?" said the big little girl;
So they sipped as they skipped when they wanted a drink,
And swallowed their cake in a whirl.
And they merrily danced
While the sunlight stayed,
And practiced their steps
In the evening's shade.




YOU 'VE got the black dog on your shoulder,
this morning; that 's what's the matter with you,"
said Wealthy.
This metaphorical black dog meant a bad humor.
Eyebright had waked up cross and irritable. What

made her wake up cross I am not wise enough to
explain. The old-fashioned doctors would proba-
bly have ascribed it to indigestion, the new-fash-
ioned ones to nerves or malaria or a "febrile
tendency"; Deacon Berry, I think, would have
called it "Original Sin," and Wealthy, who did
not mince matters, dubbed it an attack of the Old
Scratch, which nothing but a sound shaking could
cure. Very likely, all these guesses were partly
right and all partly wrong. When our bodies get
out of order, our souls are apt to become disordered
too, and at such times there always seem to be
little imps of evil lurking near, ready to seize the
chance, rush in, fan the small embers of discontent
to a flame, make cross days crosser, and turn bad
beginnings into worse endings.
The morning's mischances had begun with Eye-
bright's being late to breakfast,-a thing which
always annoyed her father very much. Knowing
this, she made as much haste as possible, and ran
down-stairs with her boots half buttoned, fastening
her apron as she went. She was in too great a

hurry to look where she was going, and the result
was that presently she tripped and fell, bumping
her head and tearing the skirt of her frock half
across. This was bad luck indeed, for Wealthy, she
knew, would make her darn it as a punishment,
and that meant at least an hour's hard work in-
doors on one of the loveliest days that ever shone.
She picked herself up and went into the sitting-
room, pouting, and by no means disposed to enjoy
the lecture on punctuality, which papa made haste
to give, and which was rather longer and sharper than
it would otherwise have been, because Eyebright
looked so very sulky and obstinate while listening
to it.
You will all be shocked at this account, but I am
not sorry to show Eyebright to you on one of her
naughty days. All of us have such days some-
times, and to represent her as possessing no faults
would be to put her at a distance from all of you;
in fact, I should not like her so well myself. She
has been pretty good, so far, in this story ; but she
was by no means perfect, for which let us be thank-
ful; because a perfect child would be an unnatural
thing, whom none of us could quite believe in or
understand Eyebright was a dear little girl, and
for all her occasional naughtiness, had plenty of
lovable qualities about her; and I am glad to say
she was not often so naughty as on this day.
When a morning begins in this way, everything
seems to go wrong with us, as if on purpose. It
was so with Eyebright. Her mother, who was very
poorly, found fault with her breakfast. She wanted
some hotter tea, and a slice of toast a little browner
and cut very thin. These were simple requests,
and on any other day Eyebright would have danced
off gleefully to fulfill them. To-day she was an-
noyed at having to go, and moved slowly and
reluctantly. She did not say that she felt waiting
on her mother to be a trouble, but her face, and
the expression of her shoulders, and her dull,
dawdling movements said it for her; and poor Mrs.
Bright, who was not used to such unwillingness
on the part of her little daughter, felt it so much
that she shed a few tears over the second cup of tea
after it was brought. This dismayed Eyebright,
but it also exasperated her. She would not take
any notice, but stood by in silence till her mother
had finished, and then, without a word, carried the
tray down-stairs. A sort of double mood was upon
her. Down below the anger was a feeling of keen
remorse for what she had done, and a voice inside




seemed to say: Oh dear, how sorry I am going
to be for this by and by !" But she would not let
herself be sorry then, and stifled the voice by say-
ing, half aloud, as she went along: "I don't care.
It's too bad of mother. I wish she wouldn't!"
Wealthy met her at the stair-foot.
How long you've been !" she said, taking the
tray from her.
"I can't be any quicker when I have to keep
going for more things," said Eyebright.
"Nobody said you could," retorted Wealthy,
speaking crossly herself, because Eyebright's tone
was cross. "Mercy on me! How did you tear
your frock like that ? You '11 have to darn it your-
self, you know; that's the rule. Fetch your work-
box as soon as you've done the cups and saucers.

Ordinarily, Eyebright was very proud to be
trusted with this little job. She worked care-
fully and nicely and had proved herself capable,
but to-day her fingers seemed all thumbs. She
set the cups away without drying the bottoms, so
that they made wet rings on the shelves; she only
half-rinsed the teapot, left a bit of soap in its spout,
and ended by breaking a saucer. Wealthy scolded
her, she retorted, and then Wealthy made the
speech, which I have quoted, about the black dog.
Very slowly and unwillingly Eyebright sat down
to darn her frock. It was a long, jagged rent,
requiring patience and careful slowness, and neither
good-will nor patience had Eyebright to bring to
the task. Her fingers twitched, she "pshawed,"
and oh deared," ran the needle in and out and


Eyebright almost replied "I wont," but she did
not quite dare, and walked, without speaking, into
the sitting-room, where the table was made ready
for dish-washing, with a tub of hot water, towels, a
bit of soap, and a little mop. Since vacation began,
Wealthy had allowed her to wash the breakfast
things on Mondays and Tuesdays, days on which
she herself was particularly busy.
VOL. VI.-27.

in irregularly, jerked the thread, and finally gave a
fretful pull when she came to the end of the first
needleful, which tore a fresh hole in the stuff, and
puckered all she had darned, so that it was not fit to
be seen. Wealthy looked in just then, and was
scandalized at the condition of the work.
You can just pick it out from the beginning,"
she said. It's a burning shame that a great girl



like you should n't know how to do better. But
it's temper-that's what it is. Nothing in the
world but temper, Eyebright. You 've been as
cross as two sticks all day, Massy knows for what,
and you ought to be ashamed of yourself,"
whereon she gave Eyebright a little shake.
The shake was like a match applied to gunpow-
der. Eyebright flamed into open revolt.
"Wealthy Ann Judson!" she cried, angrily.
" Let me alone. It's all your fault if I am cross,
you treat me so. I wont pick it out. I wont
darn it at all. And I shall just tell my father that
you shook me; see if I don't."
Wealthy's reply was a sound box on the ear.
Eyebright's naughtiness certainly deserved punish-
ment, but it was hardly wise or right of Wealthy to
administer it, or to do it thus. She was far too
angry to think of that, however.
"That's what you want," said Wealthy, "and
you 'd be a better girl if you got it oftener." Then
she marched out of the room, leaving Eyebright in
a fury.
I wont bear it I wont bear it "she exclaimed,
bursting into tears. "Everybody is cruel, cruel!
I '11 run away! I'll not stay in this house another
minute-not another minute," and, catching up her
sun-bonnet, she darted through the hall and was
out of the gate and down the street in a flash.
Wealthy was in the kitchen, her father was out, no
one saw her go. Rosy and Tom Berry, who were
swinging on their gate, called to her as she passed,
but their gay voices jarred on her ear, and she paid
no attention to the call.
Tunxet village was built upon a sloping hill
whose top was crowned with woods. To reach
these woods, Eyebright had only to climb two stone
walls and cross a field and a.pasture, and as they
seemed just then the most desirable refuge possible,
she made haste to do so. She had always had a
peculiar feeling for woods, a feeling made up of
terror and attraction. They were associated in her
mind with fairies and with robbers, with lost chil-
dren, red-breasts, Robin Hood and his merry men;
and she was by turns eager and shy at the idea of
exploring their depths, according to which of these
images happened to be uppermost in her ideas.
To-day she thought neither of Robin Hood nor the
fairies. The wood was only a place where she
could hide away and cry and be unseen, and she
plunged in without a thought of fear.
In and in she went, over stones and beds of moss,
and regiments of tall brakes, which bowed and rose
as she forced her way past their stems, and saluted
her with wafts of woodsy fragrance, half bitter, half
sweet, but altogether pleasant. There was some-
thing soothing in the shade and cool quiet of the
place. It fell like dew on her hot mood, and pres-

ently her anger changed to grief, she knew not why.
Her eyes filled with tears. She sat down on a
stone all brown with soft mosses, and began to cry,
softly at first, then loudly and more loud, not taking
any pains to cry quietly, but with hard sobs and
great gulps which echoed back in an odd way from
the wood. It seemed a relief at first to make as
much noise as she liked with her crying, and to
know that there was no one to hear or be annoyed.
It was pleasant, too, to be able to talk out loud as
well as to cry.
"They are so unkind to me," she wailed, "so
very unkind. Wealthy never slapped me before.
She has no right to slap me. I '11 never kiss
Wealthy again,-never. O-h, she was so un-
kind "
"O-h echoed back the wood in a hollow
tone. Eyebright jumped.
"It's like a voice," she thought. "I'll go some-
where else. It isn't nice justhere. I don't like it."
So she went back a little way to the edge of the
forest, where the trees were less thick, and between
their stems she could see the village below. Here
she felt safer than she had been when in the thick
wood. She threw herself down in a comfortable
hollow at the foot of an oak, and half-sitting,
half-lying, began to think over her wrongs.
I guess if I was dead they 'd be sorry," she
reflected. "They 'd hunt and hunt for me, and
not know where I was. And at last they 'd come
up here, and find me dead, with a tear on my cheek,
and then they 'd know how badly they had made
me feel, and their hearts would nearly break. I
don't believe father would ever smile again. He'd
be like the king in the 'Second Reader'-
But waves went o'er his son's bright hair,
He never smiled again.'

Only, I'm a daughter, and it would be leaves and
not waves Mother, she'd cry and cry, and as for
that old Wealthy-" but Eyebright felt it difficult
to imagine what Wealthy would do under these
circumstances. Her thoughts drifted another way,
I might go into a convent instead. That would
be better, I guess. I'd be a novice first, with a white
veil and a cross and a rosary, and I 'd look so sweet
and holy that all the other children,-no, there
would n't be any other children,-never mind!-
I 'd 'be lovely anyhow. But I 'd be a Protestant
always I would n't want to be a Catholic and
have to kiss the Pope's old toe all the time Then
by and by I should take that awful black veil.
Then I could never come out any more-not ever !
And I should kneel in the chapel all the time as
motionless as a marble figure. That would be beau-
tiful." Eyebright had never been able to sit still
for half an hour together in her life, but that made



no difference in her enjoyment of this idea. The
abbess will be beautiful, too, but stern and unre-
lenting, and she 'll say 'Daughters' when she
speaks to us nuns, and we shall say 'Holy Mother'
when we speak to her. It'll be real nice. We
sha' n't have to do any darning, but just embroidery
in our cells, and wax flowers. Wealthy'll want to
come in and see me, I know, but I shall just tell
the porter that I don't want her, not ever. She's

"Y.:. .1 1., ,...'
l f -...-i : Ir .:

I -
be mad! The abbess and Mir-e Geinejride"-
Eyebright had just read for the fourth time Mrs.
Sherwood's exciting novel called "The Nun," so her
imaginary content was modeled exactly after the
one there described-" the abbess and Mire Gind-
fride will always be spying about and listening in
the passage to hear what we say, when we sit in our
cells embroidering and telling secrets, but me and
my Pauline-no I won't call her Pauline-Rosalba
-Sister Rosalba-that shall be her name-we '11
speak so low that she can't hear a word. Then we
shall suspect that something strange is taking place
down in the cellar,-I mean the dungeons,-and
we'll steal down and listen when the abbess and
the bishop and all of them are trying the sister,
who has a Bible tied on her leg!" Here Eyebright
gave an enormous yawn. "And--if-the-mob-
does come-Wealthy-will be sure to-sure to- "
But of that we shall never know, for at this pre-
cise moment Eyebright fell asleep.
She must have slept a long time, for when she
waked the sun had changed his place in the sky,
and was shining on the western side of the ;ii,
houses. Had some good angel passed by, lifted the

"black dog" from her shoulder, and swept from
her mind all its foolish and angry thoughts, while
she dreamed there under the trees? For behold !
matters and things now looked differently to her,
and instead of blaming other people and thinking
hard things of them, she began to blame herself.
How naughty I was," she thought, to be so
cross with poor mamma, just because she wanted
another cup of tea! Oh dear, and I made her
cr: I know it was me-just because I looked so
.:*:.:: Howhorrid I always am And Iwas cross
i.. j..,pa, too, and put my lip out at him. How
*...-. i I do so? What made me? Wealthy had
,,r -,y business to slap me, though-
"" 1ut then I was pretty ugly to Wealthy," she
' :ar on, her conscience telling her the truth at last,
:- ....nsciences will, if allowed. "I just tried to
p i.:. :.ke her-and I called her Wealthy Ann Jud-
:.. That- always makes her mad. She never
slapped me before, not since I was a little
mite of a girl. Oh dear! And only yester-
day she washed all Genevieve's dolly things
-her blue muslin, and her overskirt, and all
-and she said she did n't mind trouble when
it was for my doll. She's very good to me
sometimes. Almost always she 's good.
Oh, I ought n't to have spoken so to
Wealthy-I ought n't-I ought n't!" And
Eyebright began to cry afresh; not angry
tears this time, but bright, healthful drops
of repentance, which cleansed and refreshed
her soul.
I '11 go right home now and tell her I am
sorry," she said impetuously, and, jumping from her
seat, she ran straight down the hill and across the
field, eager to make her confession and to be for-
given. Eyebright's fits of temper, big and little,
usually ended in this way. She had none of that
dislike of asking pardon with which some persons are
afflicted. To her it was a relief-a thing to be met
and gone through with for the sake of the cheer,'
the blue-sky-in-the-heart, which lay on the other
side of it, and the peace which was sure to follow,
when once the "forgive me was spoken.
In at the kitchen door she dashed. Wealthy,
who was ironing, with a worried frown on her brow,
started and exclaimed at the sight of Eyebright,
and sat suddenly down on a chair. Before she
could speak, Eyebright's arms were round her
I was real horrid and wicked this morning,"
she cried. "Please forgive me, Wealthy. I wont
be so naughty again-not ever. Oh, don't, don't "
for, to her dismay, Wealthy, the grim, broke down
and began to cry. This was really dreadful. Eye-
bright stared a moment; then her own eyes filled,
and she cried, too.


"What a fool I be said Wealthy, dashing the
drops from her eyes. "There, Eyebright, there!
Hush, dear; we wont say any more about it."
And she kissed Eyebright, for perhaps the tenth
time in her life. Kisses were rare things, indeed,
with Wealthy.
Where have you been? she asked presently.
" It's four o'clock and after. Did you know that ?
Have you had any dinner ? "
No; but I don't want any, Wealthy. I 've
been in the woods on top of the hill. I ran away
and sat there, and I guess I fell asleep," said Eye-
bright, hanging her head.
"Well, your pa did n't come home to dinner, for
a wonder; I reckon he was kept to the mill; so we
had n't much cooked. I took your ma's up to her;
but I never let on that I did n't know where you
was, for fear of worrying her. She has worried a
good lot, any way. Here, let me brush your hair
a little, and then you 'd better run upstairs and
make her mind easy. I'll have something for you
to eat when you come down."
Eyebright's heart smote her afresh when she saw
her mother's pale, anxious face.
You've been out so long,"she said. I asked
Wealthy, and she said she guessed you were playing
somewhere, and did n't know how the time went.
I was afraid you felt sick, and she was keeping it
from me. It is so bad to have things kept from
me; nothing annoys me so much, and you did n't
look well at breakfast. Are you sick, Eyebright? "
"No, mamma, not a bit. But I have been
naughty-very naughty indeed, mamma; and I
ran away."
Then she climbed up on the bed beside her
mother, and told the story of the morning, keeping
nothing back-all her hard feelings and anger at
everybody, and her thoughts about dying, and
about becoming a nun. Her mother held her hand
very tight indeed when she reached this last part
of the confession. The idea of the wood, also,
was terrible to the poor lady. She declared that
she should n't sleep a wink all night for thinking
about it.
It was n't a dangerous wood at all," explained
Eyebright. "There was n't anything there that
could hurt me. Really there was n't, mamma.
Nothing but trees, and stones, and ferns, and old
tumbled-down trunks covered with tiny-weeny
mosses,-all green and brown and red, and some
perfectly white,-so pretty. I wish I had brought
you some, mamma."
"Woods are never safe," declared Mrs. Bright,
"what with snakes, and tramps, and wild cats,
and getting lost, and other dreadful things! I
hardly take up a paper without seeing something
or other bad in it which has happened in a wood.

You must never go there alone again, Eyebright.
Promise me that you wont."
Eyebright promised. She petted and comforted
her mother, kissing her over and over again, as if
to make up for the anxiety she had caused her, and
for the cross words and looks of the morning. The
sad thing is, that no one ever does make up. All
the sweet words and kind acts of a life-time cannot
undo the fact that once-one bad day far away
behind us-we were unkind and gave pain to some
one whom we love. Even their forgiveness cannot
undo it. How I wish we could remember this
always before we say the words which we afterward
are so sorry for, and thus save our memories from
the burden of a sad load of regret and repentance!
When Eyebright went down-stairs,'she found a
white napkin, her favorite mug filled with milk, a
plateful of bread and butter and cold lamb, and a
large pickled peach, awaiting her on the kitchen
table. Wealthy hovered about as she took her
seat, and seemed to have a disposition to pat Eye-
bright's shoulder a good deal, and to stroke her
hair. Wealthy, too, had undergone the repent-
ance which follows wrath. Her morning, I imag-
ine, had been even more unpleasant than Eye-
bright's, for she had spent it over a hot ironing
task, and had not had the refreshment of running
away into the woods.
It's so queer," said Eyebright, with her mouth
full of bread and butter. I did n't know I was
hungry a bit, but I am as hungry as can be.
Everything tastes so good, Wealthy."
That's right," replied Wealthy, who was a little
upset, and tearful still. "A good appetite 's a good
thing,-next best to a good conscience, I think."
Eyebright's spirits were mounting as rapidly as
quicksilver. Bessie Mather appeared at the gate
as she finished her last mouthful, and, giving
Wealthy a great hug, Eyebright ran out to meet
her, with a lightness and gayety of heart which
surprised even herself. The blue sky seemed
bluer than ever before, the grass greener, the sun-
shine was like yellow gold. Every little thing that
happened made her laugh. It was as though a black
cloud had been rolled away from between her and
the light.
"I wonder what makes me so particularly
happy to-night," she thought, as she sat on the
steps waiting for papa, after Bessie was gone.
"It's queer that I should, when I've been so
naughty-and all."
But it was not queer, though Eyebright felt it so.
The world never looks so fair and bright as to eyes
newly washed by tears of sorrow for faults forgiven;
and hearts which are emptied of unkind feelings
grow light at once, as if happiness were the rule
of the world and not the exception.

(To be continued.)





Author of (Tom Brown's) "School-days at Rugby."

HALLOO! Hie! Lookout! Therehe goes !"
"Loo loo loo Hie at him, Vic! "Hie at him !
Loo loo, Toby! "
Away went the rabbit for dear life, from the
furze bush, where the boys and dogs had just
started him, across the fifty yards of turf which
lay between it and the neighboring copse.
Away went the rabbit, and after him the two terri-
ers, and after them the three boys, every one of
them as hard as he could pelt. Master Bunny
saved his scut by some two yards, and gave a last
saucy flirt of his white-marked hind legs, almost in
the dogs' faces, as he dashed into a small run in
the fence, too narrow for them to get through, and
this Vic found to her cost. For that little creature
rushed at the run, and stuck fast, howling and
struggling; while Toby, more cunningly, toppedthe
fence, and dashed into the tangled mass of weeds
and brushwood on the other side, from which he
sent back eager yelps to tell his young masters of
his whereabouts, and assure them of his devotion
to duty.
The boys are not far behind. First over the
fence and into the copse comes Plump, a great
boy for a short rush, but not good at staying.
Close to him his cousin, Peter, a town-bred boy,
but all the keener for ratting, rabbiting, or any
other country pastime which his uncle's vicarage

could afford in the holidays. Pip is a second or
two after them, having stopped to tug Vic back
out of her cul-de-sac and pitch her into the copse,
to help Toby in his quest. This is animated and
bewildering, the dogs rushing hither and thither,
and drawing the boys this way and that after their
Suddenly they are silent; not a yelp can be
heard. They have run Bunny to his earth, at
which they are furiously tearing with teeth and
scratching with paws.
But instead of the musical cry of pursuing
dogs, another cry, or rather a howl, of mingled
rage and pain, now rises straight up into the
pleasant summer air from the midst of the
densest tangle of the underwood. The boys, who
had got scattered, turn toward the place, Pip and
Peter both wondering what in the world can have
come to old Plump now."
The next moment, forcing their way through the
greenand russet tangle, they come upon him, squat
at the bottom of a dry ditch which crosses the
copse; his round face just clear above the nettles,
which.form the chief part of his surroundings;
throwing his whole soul and energy into the dole-
ful wail, while good, round, oily tears course rap-
idly down his indignant cheeks.
Hullo! at it again! All hands to the pumps,



Peter calls out Pip. At which summons the two
jump down, one on each side of Plump, and, seiz-
ing an arm each, begin working them as if they
were pump-handles. After a moment of struggle
and resistance on the part of the patient, the pre-
scription works wonders. Plump's wailings cease
as suddenly as they had begun; his jolly, fat face
clears, and almost breaks into a grin, as he stands
up between them, and begins to pull himself to-
gether and rub various parts of his stout person.
"Well, but what's the matter, Plump? You
were n't boo-hooing about the nettles, I should
hope ? "
We may say parenthetically that one of the most
striking peculiarities of Master Plump was his per-
fect command of the water-works. He could roar
at a moment's notice and on any pretext, and had
hitherto practiced the accomplishment with a
shamelessness which somewhat scandalized his
male relatives, and particularly his brother Pip,
scarcely a year older than himself. So they had
invented this method of all hands to the pumps,"
by way of controlling the water-works, and it was
beginning to tell. At the same time, any one who
presumed on this habit to treat Plump as a milk-
sop, found himself quite in the wrong box. He
had just been to school for his first half, and had
turned upon and fought a boy bigger than himself,
roaring loudly all the time, but working away like
a -' i ii..1 i with his strong arms, till his assailant
was glad to cry enough.
"No, 't was n't the nettles; but if you were
pitched into a bed of them like this, you would n't
like it-at least, your face and hands would n't,"
saying which, Plump grasped the stick he had let
fall in his somersault, and began thrashing the bed
of nettles all round him.
What was it, then? How did you get such a
cropper? "
"A beastly post there, just by where you are.
Look at my leg."
"Well, that is an ugly place," said Peter. It
was a big bruise on the shin, which was already
swelling up and looking angry.
"But what post? I can't see any," said Pip.
However, after thrashing down the docks and net-
tles about the place from which Plump had taken
his header into the ditch, there, sure enough, was
a stone post, about two feet high, firmly bedded in
the ground. This Plump ascertained by pulling at
it with all his might.
I '11 go and get a pick-ax," he said, and grub
it up, and have old Gaffer Giles break it up for
mending the roads."
"But look here, there are letters upon it," said
Pip, the observer of the party; "an M, and un-
derneath, B S, and some others I can't make out."

P'r'aps it 's a tomb-stone," suggested Peter.
"Shut up Why, this is n't a church-yard,"
said Plump.
Well, but I've heard they sometimes bury fel-
lows in the country at cross-roads, with a stake in
them," Peter persisted.
"But they 're suicides; and there are no cross-
roads here, and no stake," said Pip.
Suppose it should turn out to be a Roman
stone," said Peter gravely.
And so the boys went on speculating, but could
make nothing of the beastly post," against which
Plump still muttered direful threatening. So,
after determining that there was no chance of get-
ting at the rabbit without ferrets, and having, with
much difficulty, pulled Vic out of the burrow, in
which she had by this time nearly buried herself,
and cleansed her eyes and mouth a little from the
dirt, the boys turned out of the copse into the high
road which skirted it, on their way home to the
vicarage. About one hundred yards down the road,
they came on old Gaffer Giles, seated on a heap of
stones, his legs wide apart, engaged in breaking the
bigger ones with a long hammer. He did not
hurry himself at his work; as, indeed, why should
he ?-the parish allowed him three shillings a week
for his labor. On the heap by him lay several pick-
axes and road-scrapers. At these Plump'rushed at
once, seizing on the biggest pick-ax.
I may take this, mayn't I, Gaffer?" he said.
"Nay, nay! Maester Gaarge. Thaay picks
beant mine. Thaay belongs to the gang as is
mending the roads."
"But Gaffer, we only want it just to go into the
copse and grub up an old stone," urged Plump.
Perhaps you know the stone, Mr. Giles?" in-
terposed the politer Pip. "It stands by the dry
ditch, and has got some old letters on it-an M and
aB S."
Kneows un aye to be sure-I knows un
sure enough; I seed un sunk there a matter o'
seventy year back, when I wur a leetle chap,
smaller 'n either o' you be."
Well, but what is it then ? Tell us all about
it, Gaffer. What are the letters for?"
An M, beant there atop? Ees, ees, I minds,
and B S down below? Thaay stands for 'bounds'
stwun,' and M for Moreton parish.'"
And we're going to grub him up, Gaffer, and
you must break him up for the road."
The old man chuckled, "Whoy, 'tw'u'd take
the likes o' you a month to grub !"
So Plump gave up his notion of moving the
parish land-mark, and the boys sat down to pump
.old Giles as to his memories connected with the
stone, which, translated from his dialect, were much
as follows:




When he was a little chap at the parish
school, they had a holiday every year on Gang
Monday." He did n't just mind when it came
round, but somewhere about Whitsuntide. Well,
on Gang Monday morning, all the boys went to
the church-yard, and there was the lord's steward
with a map, and the parish constable, and a smart
few men and women, too, who had a mind to beat
the bounds-" possessioning" they called it, or some
such name. He was no scholard, but minded the
name for all that.
So the possessioners started with the steward
in front and the constable ringing a bell, and the
rest following in a row. They marched all round
the parish, and now and again the steward would
stop, and sometimes they drove a stake or set up
a stone like that one in the copse. That was in
places where there was a dispute about the parish-
line. Then they'd used to catch a boy or two,
and take him by the arms and legs and bump him
up against the stone or a tree, so as he should
remember the place afterward.
At the brook, too, along that part of it
where the parish line struck it, and ran down it
for, might be, two or three furlongs, there was a
scramble to see who should be pushed in to wade
down. It was n't more than knee-deep for any one
as knew which side to keep and where to cross.
But now and again some young chap as didn't
know would be in, and they as knew called him
wrong so as he should go plump into the holes
above his middle, for all the folk to laugh at; and
sometimes they caught a boy and chucked him in.
But the boys mostly were too knowing, and kept
away from the men when they got near the brook.
There was a deal of waste land too, there, and the
steward, he had an eye to it all sure enough, as
they went along, to see that no poor man had run
up a bit of a place for his jackass or pig, or fenced
round a rood of taters or cabbages. He minded
one time when they came across a bit of a stye as
Israel Willis, the charcoal burner, had put up, and
how at the steward's bidding they had pulled it
down and chased Israel's sow and her litter on to
the common. No, he knew better now. Israel
had gone to the bad, and ended in the county
jail all along of that business. 'T was no business
of their'n to help clear the lord's waste, and now
't was all took in and fenced off these forty year,
and no man the better but the lord, and no place
left for poor folk to cut a bit of furze, or turn out a
goose or a pig, or pick a few bits of stick for a fire.
Then on Gang Mondays when they got back, there
was bread and cheese and ale for all, and buns and
a glass of ale for the boys, and the bells ringing all
the afternoon, and two shillings apiece for the
ringers. He had heard tell of a piece of land

called Gang Monday's land, as was left in old times
to pay for beating the parish bounds. What had
come of that now? there. was no holiday, nor
bread and cheese and ale, nor buns nor bell-
So old Giles crooned on, breaking a stone now
and then with a whack of his hammer to ease his
feelings, and glad of such attentive listeners to his
budget of old stories and grievances, as the boys
were proving themselves to be.
They sat about him all ears, till the church-clock
in the distance struck five and warned them of tea-
time at the vicarage. Then they jumped up and
hurried off, leaving old Giles sitting on the stone-
heap and thwacking away with more than usual dili-
gence, as the thoughts of vanished holidays and
the wrongs of the poor came thronging back once
more across his awakened memory.
As they trotted along toward the vicarage, the
boys bandied their chaff as usual backward and
forward, agreeing in nothing but this one thing,
that it would be great fun-or "real swagger," as
Plump would call it-to have a Gang Monday "
next year in Moreton parish.
The vicar's daughter, in broad-brimmed hat
and thick leather gauntlets, was trimming her rose-
trees on the vicarage lawn as they neared the
"Oh look, there 's cousin Carrie; let's tell
her! "
And Peter made for the girl, followed slowly by
the other two Ps, who seemed indeed more
inclined to make straight for the house.
0 Carrie, here we are, and we 've been having
such a jaw from old Gaffer Giles about beating the
parish bounds, and Plump has tumbled over the
bounds' stone, and cut his breeches, and broken
his shin, and stung himself all over with nettles;
and we want you to help us persuade uncle to have
a Gang Monday."
Carrie stopped her work, and turned round a
face as fresh and bright as her own roses.
"With all my heart, Peter," she began; but
then her face fell and she shook her little gaun-
tleted fist at her two brothers. "You wretched
boys! what have you been doing with Vic?-,
setting her after rabbits again, I do believe."
The small terrier, her special delight, sidled
round toward her young mistress, with tail droop-
ing, casting appealing looks at her, and reproach-
ful ones at the boys, as much as to say, "you know
now it was all your fault."
"Well, Carrie, you see she would come. We
did n't know she was following till we were close to
the copse, and then we found a rabbit quite by
chance; and you know, Carrie, nobody can stop
her when once she sees a rabbit," Plump put in.



"Now, it really is too bad of you," she said,
bending down and putting back the draggled
masses of long hair which hung over Vic's eyes.
" It took me two days to get her tidy again after
your last hunt, and that only a week ago. It's too
bad. You have ruined her so that I can't take her
a walk in the village for fear of her running off
into the coverts ; and the keepers will shoot her or
trap her. Ah, you naughty Vic! you 're nearly as
bad as the boys. You 'll be found smothered, I
know, in a burrow, or the old Fox will catch you
and eat you."
Carrie was really annoyed, but sisters are the
most forgiving and long-suffering of our race, and
so the boys soon made their peace with her, and
got a tub of hot water, and helped to wash the dirt
out of Vic's eyes, and comb her hair, and by the
time tea was ready, Carrie was as interested in
Gang Monday as was any of the three Ps.
The vicar's was a well-ordered house in which
boys of the age of the Ps were still kept in their
proper places, and only appeared after dinner in
their best clothes and manners, at dessert. The
vicar was a hard-working man, who liked his quiet
dinner at the end of his hard day's work, and liked
to have a friend or two to share it. He followed St.
Paul's maxim, and was given to hospitality, and on
the day of our story, besides his wife and daughter,

there were two guests at his table,-his brother
from London, Peter's father, and his own curate.
In due course, the table was cleared and places
were set for the three Ps, who entered demurely
after grace, and set to work upon the fruit and bis-
cuits in decorous silence. Presently, at a pause in
the conversation, the vicar began:
Well, boys, Carrie tells us you've been pump-
ing old Gaffer Giles about beating the bounds ?"
Yes, papsir," said Pip (the Ps had invented
"papsir" as a compromise between papa and sir, the
former being too babyish in their opinion, and the
latter too formal, while the vicar entirely declined
to be addressed as governor"), "and we want to
know why you don't have beating the bounds now
every year."
It must have been such fun," Plump put in.
"But what made old Gaffer call it 'possessioning,'
uncle?" said Peter.
"'Possessioning' my boy? 'Processioning,' you
mean," said the vicar. "Not but what 'possession-
ing' would have been the best word for it latterly,
for no one got any good from it but the lord of the
manor; but processioningg' was the old word, or 'ro-
gationing,'-sometimes one, sometimes the other,
-both good, both older than the Reformation."
'Rogationing' what a rum word, papsir," said
Plump, taking a large and demure bite at an apple.



Not rum at all, Plump,-quite the natural
word for the thing. The squire called it 'proces-
sioning' because of the procession that looked after
his property, the parson 'rogationing' because of
the rogations, which were his part of the busi-
ness. "
"But what are rogations,'sir?" asked the curate.
"I confess I 'm as ignorant as the boys, though I
do remember, by the way, that there are rogation
days named in our rubric, but what they are I
have n't an idea."
'Rogations' were the liturgies which were chanted
in processions and perambulations by the clergy.
The rogation days were amongst the most popular
and best observed vigils in the times of Roman
Catholic supremacy, here, in England. They
came over with St. Augustine, and were as old, I
take it, as the fifth century."
Older a good deal, I fancy," said Peter's father.
"The rogation days, with their perambulations and
processions, were just a revival of the heathen Ter-
minalia, the festival of Terminus, the god of
boundaries. Roman, rather than Romish, I should
say, brother."
Well, Roman, or Romish, or Catholic, or/
whatever you like to call them," said the vicar,
"they were no bad custom. Queen Bess
was no dull judge, and, when she abolished
processions, specially retained these peram- .
bulations, and proclaimed that the curate
and substantial men in each parish should .
make them once a year, as they were wont,
walking the circuit of the parish and re-
turning to the church to make their corn-
mon prayer, they were to stop at con- -/
venient places where cakes and ale
should be distributed for the refresh-
ment of the body, and the curate
was to admonish the people to give
thanks to God on the beholding
of his benefits, and for the in-
-crease and abundance of his fruits
on the face of the earth, with the
saying of the 103d Psalm. I
was only reading them the other
day, oddly enough. Here 's the
book and the very passage," the
vicar went on, getting up and
taking a volume from his writ-
ing-table and reading.: At
which time also the said min-
ister shall inculcate these or
such like sentences, 'Cursed
be he which translateth the
bounds and dolles of his "IF THERE 'S NO DO0
neighbor,' or such other GET LADDERS."
order of prayer as shall be lawfully appointed."



P'4_'L. r ----
-OO F E _, L
,"I ,I': ,;"



"None .was ever appointed, I 'suppose, sir?"
asked the curate.
Not that I ever heard of," replied the vicar.
I should doubt whether any but Papist clergy
ever made any real use of them,"
said Peter's father.
"You 're mistaken," said the
vicar; Hooker for instance"-
"What, 'The Judicious'?" in-
quired Peter's father.
T "Yes, 'The Judicious,' if you
Pleasee" went on the .vicar,-
"Richard Hooker, the great man
who left his preferment in London,
and all his great prospects, for the
small country living 'where he
might see God's blessings spring
S out of the earth, and be free from
noises.' He, we are told, 'would
by no means omit the customary time of
perambulations, persuading all, both rich
and poor, if they desired the preservation
of love, and of their parish rights and
liberties, to accompany him in his perambu-
lation,-and most did so,-in which peram-
bulations he would usually express more pleas-
ant discourses than at other times, and would
then always drop some loving and facetious
observations, to be remembered against next
'/ year, especially by the boys and young people.'
SDo you hear that, boys ?"
Yes, papsir; yes, uncle; said the three.
Well, then, listen to what follows: 'Still
inclining them and all his present parishioners
to meekness and mutual kindness and love.'"
R Papsir "-- began Pip anxiously.
Well, Pip; what is it?"
"Did ever-I mean do you think Mr. Hooker "-


'Doctor' Hooker, Pip, you irreverent imp."
"Well, uncle, 'Doctor' Hooker then. Do you
think, papsir, that they threw any of Doctor
Hooker's boys into the brook ?"
Or bumped them on the parish bounds' stone
to make them remember the place ?" put in Peter.
But, sir," the curate struck in, "it really seems
a pity so good a custom should have fallen into
What! you would like the processioning, eh,
Gordon ?" said the vicar, smiling. His curate was
rather suspect" in the parish,-" not much better
than a Papist," the farmer who supported Little
Bethel, and sometimes preached there, had been
heard to say.
Then you 'll go in for Gang Monday next year,
wont you, sir?" said Plump to the curate.
Softly, softly," interposed the rector. No ; I
fear the custom is dead and buried, and any attempt
to revive it would be misunderstood in the parish,
-the reason, that is, the secular reason for it, is
gone, since we have got the Government Ordnance
Survey maps, and in our days the religious work
must be done in the church."
Why, brother, you seem to think the custom
is stone dead. But you're wrong. We beat the
bounds every year in my London parish."
"Ah, really? I thought it was quite given up,"
said the vicar.
Not a bit of it," replied his brother; "it's a
great holiday for the charity children, and the
beadle rises on that one morning a great man once
more,-a sort of parochial representative of the old
heathen god, Terminus."
Oh jolly !" said the Ps together; do tell us all
about it, uncle."
Well, there's not much to tell. The beadle, in
his cocked hat, gold-laced coat, and silver-headed
staff, musters the charity boys in the vestry hall,
and serves them out a long peeled willow-wand
What 's that for? asked Pip; what do they
do with the wands ?"
Poke off one another's caps, and switch 'the
cats in the areas when the beadle's back is turned.
Well, as soon as they get a vestryman to carry the
parish map, they start behind him, the beadle
leading, the boys two and two after him, with the
school-master bringing up the rear. And theyhold
their own, too. All the traffic has to stop while
the procession is crossing a street."
What fun! said Plump. "What, omnibuses
and carriages and all? "
Yes, carriages and all, Plump. A year or two
back a grand carriage was drawn up right across the
parish boundary line, and when the fat coachman
would n't move on, the beadle and school-master

ran to the horses' heads and held them, while the
charity boys all scrambled through the carriage."
Oh, what a lark cried the boys.
"Yes; but that day the churchwarden who
went with the procession happened to be a titled
"I wish he was papsir's churchwarden," said Pip.
But how can they follow the boundary line in
the middle of the town ? asked the curate.
"Oh, they go through houses and out at the
back; and if there 's no door, get steps and lad-
ders, and the boys scramble over, carrying their
wands. At one place there is a big oven in an
outhouse through which the boundary line runs.
There the cry is, Who's the boy for the oven to-
day?' and once or twice a small boy has run home
roaring that he was going to be baked."
Boo-hooing like old Plump in the nettles to-
day,-eh, Pip ? interjected Peter.
Shut up, I say 1" said Plump, trying to get at
Peter's leg under the table, for a good pinch.
And so, when they get back to the vestry hall,
the beadle serves out buns and ginger-beer to the
boys all round."
"And is there no sort of service in the parish
church, sir ?" asked the curate.
Not that I know of," replied Peter's father.
A foolish and unmeaning custom," said the
vicar. "And the sooner it is put an end to, the
But, sir," said the curate, I really think we
might make it of some use in the country."
As a procession, eh ?" asked the vicar. No,
no; we should have our friend from Little Bethel
denouncing us, and the whole parish by the ears.
Let well alone, Gordon; you've got your proces-
sioning in the church on Sunday, and I don't quite
like that. Let well alone."
But, sir, I don't mean as a procession. I mean
as a lesson in geography."
"A lesson in geography Well, that's another
matter," laughed the vicar; "but I think you
must stick to your maps and globes. If you want
anything more, there 's George Grove's primer, the
best little big book ever written on geography. I
had no notion how ignorant I was till I had read it."
"Yes, sir. But I find it so hard to make the
boys understand anything with the maps and
globes. Now, it would be quite different if one
were to go round the parish with them, and show
them how it is bounded, and how the streams lie,
and why the village was built here, and not there."
But I don't know that, myself," said the vicar.
"I declare, I think Mr. Gordon 's right," said
Peter's father.
Yes, and so do we," chimed in the three Ps.
".Of course you do, you young rascals,"laughed



the vicar; "but there's the drawing-room bell ring-
ing us to tea, and your mother and Carrie wondering
what in the world has kept us so long. Bless me,"
looking at his watch, why, it's past nine o'clock.
Time for you boys to be in bed. Off with you "
"Oh, bother!" muttered Plump, who hated
going to bed almost as much as getting up.
But, papsir, you '11 think about having a geog-
raphy lesson next Gang Monday ?" said Pip.
Very well, boys; I'll think about it," was the
encouraging reply. "Good-night!"

Politics,' I think," said Peter.
Yes, that's it, 'Hooker's Ecclesiastical Politics,'
bound in Russia leather, on papsir's third shelf,
where he keeps his favorite books, only yesterday."
Plump was silenced, but not convinced, so
changed the subject with-
But, I say, did n't Mr. Gordon come out strong
on our side ? "
Did n't he, just ?" said Peter. "I declare, I
think uncle will come round."
And we '11 carry old Gaffer round the parish in


Good-night, papsir. Good-night, uncle. Good-
night, Mr. Gordon."
"I say," said Plump, as they went upstairs to
their attics, "was n't papsir just prosy about old
Hookem, and all that? "
Hooker, Plump, not Hookem-the great Dr.
Hooker," said Pip reprovingly.
Well, Hooker or Hookem, it's all the same.
Much you know, I dare say, Pip, about the great
Dr. Hooker,-or Peter either."
"Don't we, though? Why, did n't we see his
great books, Hooker's Ecclesiastical'-something
or other-what was it, Peter ? "

a chair, and give him a pot of ale and a pound of
baccy at the end."
"And we '11 give Plump a good bumping on the
'beastly post,'" said Peter laughing, as he opened
his bedroom door.
"And chuck him into the nettles in the dry
ditch," added Pip, as he disappeared behind his.
Plump paused a moment, to send defiantly after
them his favorite ejaculation, Shut up and
then rolled into his own small dormitory. And in
ten minutes the three Ps were sleeping the sleep of
the young and the eupeptic-sweeter even, I fear,
than the sleep of the just.




Snoisy street i A mis-
erable place for a
boarding-school, you
would say; yet there
it was, and filled, too,
with scholars from all
parts of the world.
Over the door hung a
sign, which said "Bird
^-, 5Emporium," but it
might just as well
have said Boarding-
School." There they
were, the boarding-
scholars, in cages all
along the sides of the
room, chattering, sing-
ing, eating, swinging,
just as 6ther boarding-
school scholars do.
A little old man,
with kind, bright eyes,
was the principal, the
president, and the pro-
fessor, all in one. He
taught some of the canaries to draw up all the water
they drank, in little pails, which came up when the
bird pulled a string; and others he had taught to
ring a little bell, when they wanted anything.
The way the little bird learned his lesson, was
this: The professor first hung the little bell in
his cage, and took all his seed and water away.
After a while, he came and rang the bell, and
within a few minutes after he brought the seed and
water. He went through this performance every
day for a week, till, at the end of that time, the
bird began to see that first came bell, and then
came breakfast; so when he felt hungry, one morn-
ing early, he rang the bell himself, as a gentle hint.
Finding that brought breakfast, he improved upon

the idea, and rang the bell whenever he wanted
There were dozens of canary-birds at the boarding-
school, though only a few were taught anything,
Most of them were kept in little box cages, ready
to be sold; and there they hopped and ate and
sang, day after day, just as happily as if they had
been in fine, large wire cages. The professor also
gave singing lessons. Does it not seem odd, to
think of teaching birds to sing? He had a little
box like a tiny hand-organ, called a bird-organ;
and, instead of songs and dance music, it played
only a bird song, like a most accomplished canary.
When the professor turned the handle, the organ
piped its song, and all the singing class began to
sing; so they learned their lesson.
But beside the birds who sang and those who
learned accomplishments, there were many other
boarders living in this strange boarding-school.
In one cage were thirteen tiny little birds, much
smaller than canaries. They were happy little
things, and it was a pretty sight to see them
all nestling close together on the long perch, like a
large family of loving brothers and sisters. Then
there were little green parrots, who did nothing but
hop about and eat; and white parrots, who sat still
and looked wise; and, funniest of all, large green
parrots, who hung themselves upside down by their
claws, and laughed. You could not have helped
laughing yourself, if you had heard them, they did
seem to enjoy it so much. There was one old par-
rot who was sick; he was not in a cage, but sat
outside on a perch, looking very cross and misera-
ble, and occasionally he would say, in a harsh, dis-
agreeable voice, Hard times or "Be quiet,
children, my head aches." He especially scolded
the monkey. For there was a monkey, though
why monkeys should be part of a bird empo-
rium, no one has found out. The monkey was
chained to the top of the Guinea-pigs' cage (for
there were Guinea-pigs, too); but his chain was




almost too long, for he could reach into the cage
and poke the poor little Guinea-pigs till they would
squeak and jump and tumble over each other.
He could even reach the cross parrot, just enough
to pull his tail, when the parrot would turn around
and scold at him till all the other parrots were
scolding and laughing, too. And there was a frog.
Such a frog! (I 'm sure that, by this time, you
agree with me that "Bird Emporium" was not
the right name for this boarding-school.) Surely
there never was such a big frog as this. He sat in
a large glass jar, and did nothing but blink his eyes
and look conceited. No doubt he felt proud of
being such a big frog, and never took into consid-
eration the fact that he was distressingly ugly. I


don't know why he was there. Perhaps boys buy
frogs; or may be he was put there to show the mon-
key how to be quiet and dignified. At any rate,
he was there. There were many queer, bright-col-
ored birds from South America, hopping about
their cages as contentedly as if they were in their
own beautiful forests in Brazil. Yet all around,
outside the house, were the noise and dust and con-
fusion of a great city.
Strange boarding-school, and still stranger schol-
ars! Perhaps some of the boys and girls who
read ST. NICHOLAS have one of these boarding-
school birds. Or may be some of the boys have
a monkey or Guinea-pigs who were in the same
class, so to speak, with these you see here.



DOWN the little drops patter,
Making a musical clatter,
Out of the clouds they throng:
Freshness of heaven they scatter
Little dark rootlets among.
"Coming to visit you, Posies!
Open your hearts to us, Roses !"
That is the Raindrops' song.

Up the little seed rises:
Buds of all colors and sizes
Clamber up out of the ground.
Gently the blue sky surprises
The earth with that soft-rushing sound.
"Welcome !"-the brown bees are humming:
"Come! for we wait for your coming!"
Whisper the wild flowers around.

"Shower, it is pleasant to hear you!"-
"Flower, it is sweet to be near you!"-
This is the song everywhere.
Listen the music will cheer you!
Raindrop and blossom so fair
Gladly are meeting together
Out in the beautiful weather:-
Oh, the sweet song in the air!


(Translated from Mte German of flits Sturm.)

IF you only knew what I know said a poor
laborer's son to his sister many years ago.
It must be something very important," said
she, snappishly.
But the brother replied:
It is indeed something very important, and, if
you knew it, you would jump high as the ceiling for
Oh, then, tell it to me," said the sister, coax-
The brother smote his breast proudly with his
hand, and said:
To-night I can become a king, if only I will."
The sister laughed outright, and said:
You, in your torn jacket, would make a beauti-
ful king."
I shall not wear the old jacket," replied the
future king; "I shall have a red mantle embroid-
ered with gold, and a gold crown also; and, sister,
if you desire it, you can become a princess, and
have a beautiful dress; and when I am seated on
my gold throne, you will sit near me on a silver
one. We shall live in a gold castle, where we can
eat nice meat all day, and where we shall not have
to pick up any more dry sticks."
"But how will it all come about?" asked his
sister, quite astonished and puzzled. Our parents
are very poor people."
The brother gave a knowing look, and said:
"I dreamt last night, that-- "
He got no further, for a shrill laugh interrupted
him, and his sister cried:
Oh, then, it is all a dream Thank you, but
I don't care to be a dream-princess."
She would have run away, but her brother held
her by the dress, and spoke eagerly.
"Let me finish," he cried. The principal
thing is yet to be told. What I tell you I saw only
in a dream; but this is what happened to me:
I woke up; the moon shone into my room, and
before my bed stood a little man, who had a long
gray beard'and a brown face full of wrinkles. He
looked at me with clear, bright eyes, and laid his
finger on his mouth, as if he would say: 'Now be
still! quite still !' Then he asked me in a whisper,
if I wished to have the dream come true, and if I
would like to be a king, and live with you in a gold
castle? I nodded to him, and he went on: 'If
you decide to have what you have dreamt really
happen, come with your sister this evening, when
the moon rises, to the wood, and wait for me under

the great fir-tree, of which you know. But remem-
ber there is one condition: In the gold castle you
must let no tears fall on the floor, for, if you do, all
is lost, and we gnomes are once more without a
king.' You will promise-wont you, sister?-not
to cry in the gold castle. You always cry easy,-
right off."
The sister gave her hand upon it that she would
not cry, because she wanted so much to be a prin-
cess. The children had now decided that they
would go to the wood that evening, and wait till the
moon rose. Before dusk, however, they slipped
unnoticed into the wood; for they feared that their
parents, when they came from their work, would
keep them at home. It was a Saturday, and there
was a great deal to be done about the house.
They went with each other, hand in hand, till they
came to the great fir-tree. Then they sat down on
the soft moss, meaning to wait till the moon should
After a while the sister said:
I'm thinking all the time of our parents, and I
am so sad that I must cry. May I cry now?"
Certainly," said the brother; we are not in
the gold castle yet. Cry all you want to, as long
as we are in the woods."
And the sister cried till she fell asleep with red
eyes. The brother sat near her, and his one
thought was, how nice it would be when once he
should be a king! At last he, too, got tired and
sleepy, and began to nod.
When the brother and sister awoke, they looked
around, very much astonished, for they were
dressed most beautifully. The brother had on fine
black velvet stockings, and a glittering coat of
dark blue silk. Around his shoulders hung a red
mantle, embroidered with gold, while on his black
curly head shone a golden crown.
The sister, on the other hand, wore a sky-blue
dress, dotted with silver stars; and on her blonde
hair rested a coronet, sparkling with precious stones.
While they gazed at each other, mute with amaze-
ment, the little man with the gray beard stood
before them and cried out:
"Welcome! welcome! I am right glad you
have come."
Then he blew a little silver horn that he wore
at his side, and at the signal came a long train of
gray-bearded little men, who bore a splendid
canopy, and under it a gold sedan-chair and a silver
one, each resting on glistening poles of ebony.



The brother must sit in the gold chair, and the
sister in the silver one. Slowly and with pomp the
train moved through the woods till it came to a
mountain, covered with old and stately fir-trees.
At the foot of this mountain opened a great wide
cavern, in which burned numerous lights. This
the train entered, and then proceeded further on,
through a long passage, till at last it came to a
spacious, lofty hall, in which it was light and clear
as day.
In the middle of this vast hall stood a golden
castle, much more beautiful than the one the little
king had seen in his dream. Here the brother
and sister got down from their chairs, and went,
accompanied by the little men, up the steps of
rock-crystal to the portal of the castle. The door
sprang open, and the little men conducted the two
into a saloon, in which were two thrones, one of
gold, and one of silver. The feet of the gold throne
represented four lions, and on the back of it was a
golden eagle with outspread wings. The silver
throne was upheld by four silver lilies, and on its
back stood a silver swan. On the first throne the
brother sat, and on the second, the sister.
Hardly were they seated when a buzzing sound
went through the assembly, and the little men
came over to the thrones, and cried with loud
voices :
Long live our king, Wichtel the First "
At this cry the king rose angrily, and said:
My name is not Wichtel; it is Fritz. Just ask
my sister; she knows as well as I."
The sister nodded, but the little man, who had
first spoken to the children in the wood, came
before the throne, bowed low, and said:
Pardon me, your majesty, but, if I may be
permitted to say it, from this day forth your
majesty is no longer Fritz but Wichtel the First;
for now, you are King of all the Wichtel men."
If that is so," said King Wichtel, "it shall be
my pleasure to have it so."
Hardly had he said this, when a little man came
before the throne, bearing in his hand a staff with
a great knob, and announced that the table was
I am glad of that," replied King Wichtel,
for I am very hungry."
Thereupon opened a golden door, revealing a
long table, set out with nice dishes and dainty
food. The king and his sister stepped down from
their thrones, and took their places at the table;
and then the Wichtel men sat down.
To the brother and sister the viands tasted very
nice; and when the supper was over, one of the
Wichtel men led them into an elegant room where
stood two beds,-one of gold, the other of silver.
King Wichtel lay down in the gold bed, and his


sister in the silver bed. As they rested on the soft
pillows, the brother said:
"Sister, how does the gold castle please you?
Nothing in the world can be more beautiful."
That the sister thought also, but sighed and
If father and mother were only here! "
That is my one wish, too," said the brother.
" I wonder what our dear parents are doing now."
Oh," sighed the sister again, they are looking
for us, and when they can't find us they will be
anxious, and cry."
"Yes," was the answer, that they will cer-
tainly do, since they loved us so much. When we
do not come back to the house again, they will
think the wolf has eaten us, just as he ate little
Red Riding-Hood. You do not cry yet, sister, do
In a low voice the sister replied :
I have let a few tears fall on the bed, but none
on the floor. Do not be angry with me, but I
could not help crying, for I thought I heard our
good mother weeping. You are so still, that you,
too, must be crying."
"Yes," said a voice from the gold bed, "I
thought I heard our good father calling us, and his
voice sounded so sad, and so full of anxiety But
I catch all my tears in my hand, so that none can
fall on the floor."
Both children wept quietly for a time; at last
the sister asked, with a tearful voice:
Will you, then, always be king, and shall we
never go back to our dear parents ? That I can
never endure; I would rather not be a princess
any more, for I should die for longing after them,
and then you would be alone in the gold castle."
"Ah!" sighed the brother, "I thought it was
much easier and better to be a king, but the gold
crown has made my forehead all sore, and I would
rather pick up dry wood in the forest than always
sit on the gold throne; it is so tiresome "
"What say you?" said a voice from the silver
bed; let us each drop a tear on the floor, and
then all will be over, and we will go back to our
The idea was quite after the brother's liking; so
they each let fall a great tear on the floor. Hardly
had they done this, when a great cry of lamenta-
tion went through the gold castle, and there was a
loud crash, and it thundered so fearfully that
brother and sister sprang out of bed screaming,
and became unconscious.
The castle had disappeared. The children lay
as if dead in the great cavern on the cold rock, and
around them stood sadly the little Wichtel men.
One of them, who had a snow-white beard, and
must have been very old, said to the rest:



Did I not tell you that we could not keep our
king this time, any more than on former occasions
when we were disappointed ? The children of men

The Wichtel men bowed their heads sadly, for
they would have liked very much to have as a
king one of the children of men. At last they



are all alike. Even the poorest love their parents re-clad the children in their old clothes, took them
so much that they long for them, and cry, and softly out of the hole in the mountain, and then
this they would do though one should offer them laid them under the great fir-tree on the soft moss.
all the magnificence in the whole world." When the brother and sister woke up, it was




clear day. The sun shone pleasantly through the
green fir-branches, and the birds sang gayly. The
children looked wonderingly at each other; then
,sprang up rejoicing, for they saw in the distance
their parents, who had been searching for them all
night. They ran and embraced father and mother,
and told them of the strange things that had hap-
pened to them. But the parents assured them it
was all a dream, for there were no Wichtel men.
The children, however, looked at each other as if
they would say, "We know better, for we were
with them in the gold castle."
Some time after, when the children were again
gathering wood in the forest, the brother said:
"Do you still remember my having a red
mantle round me, my wearing a crown and sitting

on a gold throne, and being called King Wichtel
the First?"
Of course I remember," said the sister; for
I sat near you as a princess on a silver throne, and
wore a blue dress dotted with silver stars. I shall
never forget how beautiful everything was."
Then said the brother:
"If we had n't dropped any tears on the floor, I
might have been a king to-day, and you a princess.
But I don't care," added he, and laughingly held
up his old jacket.
"Neither do I," said the sister; "with father
and mother it is a thousand times better than with
the Wichtel men in the gold castle."
That is so," said the brother; "but I am glad
that I have been a king just for once "



I SUPPOSE you 're wondering why I keep that
ugly old chest," said Mrs. R-, and I must own
that it's not very ornamental; but it saved my life
once, for all that. I see you think I'm making fun
of you, but I 'm not, indeed; and when you hear
the story, I think you'll agree with me that I have
good reason to value it, ugly as it looks.
"This was how it happened. When we first
came out to India, my husband was sent to make
the survey of the Nerbudda Valley, one of the
wildest bits in all Central India; and we really
were, just at first, the only white people within
forty or fifty miles. And such a time as we had of
it If my husband had n't been as strong as he is,
and a perfect miracle of patience as well, I don't
know how he could have stood what he had to do.
It was dreadful work for him, being up sometimes
for a whole night together, or having to stand out in
the burning sun, when the very ground itself was
almost too hot to touch. And as for the native
workmen, I never saw such a set,-always doing
everything wrong, and never liking anybody to put
them right. When the railway was being made
they used to carry the earth on their heads in
baskets; and when Mr. R- served out wheel-
barrows to them, they actually carried them on
their heads in the same way !* I could n't help
laughing at it, though it was terribly provoking,
too. And that was just the way they all were: if

there was a wrong way of using anything they 'd
be sure to find it out. Even our butler, or khit-
muntgar, who was much better than most of them,
came one day and begged a pair of old decanter-
labels that my husband was going to throw away;
and when the man came in next morning, he had
positively turned them into ear-rings, and went
about quite gravely with 'Port' in one ear and
SSherry' in the other!
However, if the native men worried me, the
native beasts were fifty times worse. It was no
joke, I can assure you, to be awakened in the
middle of the night by the roar of a tiger close
under the window, or by an elephant crashing
and trumpeting through the jungle with a noise
like a mail-coach going full gallop into a hot-house.
Well, as soon as that was over, the jackals would
set up a squealing and whimpering like so many
frightened children; and then a dreadful native
bird, whose name I 've never found out (I suppose
because nobody could invent one bad enough for it),
would break out in a succession of the most horrible
cries,-just like somebody being murdered,-until
the noise fairly drove me wild.
And then the ants but you 've seen them for
yourself, and I need n't tell you about them. I shall
never forget how I felt one day on finding my
beautiful new work-box, which my sister had given
me as a birthday present just before I left England,


VOL. VI.-28.

* A fact.


a perfect international congress of ants of all colors
and all sizes,-
"'Black spirits and white,
Red spirits and gray,-'
and I was n't much comforted by my husband's
assurance that 'that sort of thing happened every
day,' and that I would soon get used to it.' But
all this while I 'm neglecting my story.
One day (it will be long enough before I forget
it) my husband was out as usual at his work,
and the nurse had gone down to the other
native servants at the end of the 'compound,' as
we call this big inclosure; and I was
left alone in the house with my
little Minnie yonder, who was then _- W .
just about a year old. By this time I -
I had got over my first fears, and .'
did n't mind a bit being left by my-'.
self; indeed, all the lower windows
having bars across them, I thought
that I was safe enough; but I little
dreamed of what was coming !
"I must have been sitting over f, 1
my sewing nearly an hour, with the 'I'
child playing about the floor beside .
me, when suddenly I heard a dull
thump overhead, as if something '-
had fallen upon the roof. I did n't
think anything of it at the moment, .-
for one soon gets used to all sorts
of strange sounds in the Indian
jungle; but, presently, I thought I
could hear a heavy breathing in the -
next room but one, and then I be-
gan to feel frightened in earnest. I -
rose as softly as I could, and crept
to the door-way between the rooms. -
This door-way was only closed by a '.
curtain, and gently pulling aside the
folds, I peeped through-and found
myself within a few paces of the
largest panther that I ever saw, and
he was looking straight into my eyes!
"For one moment I was too frightened to move,
and then the thought came to me just as if some-
body had spoken it: 'The big chest !'
I knew that this chest would hold me and my
child easily, and that I could leave a chink of the
lid open to let us breathe, for the overlapping edge
would save my fingers from the panther. In a
second I had it all clear before me; but had the
brute not stopped short at sight of the curtain, I
should never have had a chance of trying it.
Luckily for me, the Indian panther, savage as he

is, is a terrible coward, and suspicious as any detect-
ive. I've seen one go round and round a trap for
more than half an hour, before he made up his
mind to spring at the bait. So, while my friend
was puzzling himself over the curtain, and wonder-
ing whether it was meant for a trap or not, I took
up Minnie (who, poor little pet, seemed to know
there was something wrong, and never uttered a
sound) and into the chest I crept, making as little
noise as I could.
I was hardly settled there when I heard the
' sniff-siffff' of the panther coming right up to where
I lay, and, through the chink that I
had left open, the hot, foul breath
came steaming in upon my face,
I.'t almost making me sick. It seemed
-'i to bring my heart into my mouth
when I heard his great claws scrap-
ing the edge of the lid, and trying
to lift it up; but, happily, the chink
was too narrow for his paw to enter.
S But if the paw could n't, the tongue
could; and soon he began to lick
my fingers, rasping them so that I
hardly knew how to bear it. Still,
the touch of Minnie's little arm
around my neck seemed to give me
S courage.
S"But there was far worse than
this to come; for the panther sud-
denly leaped right on top of the
chest, and his weight pressed down
ithe heavy lid upon my fingers, until
the pain was so terrible that, unable
to stand it any longer, I screamed
with all my might.
The scream was answered by a
shout, from just outside, in which
I recognized my husband's voice.
SThe panther heard it, too, and it
seemed to scare him, for he made a
.. ash for the window, either forget-
ting or not noticing the iron bars;
but just as he reached it, there came the crack of a
rifle, and I heard the heavy brute fall suddenly
upon the floor. Then all the fright seemed to come
back upon me at once, and I fainted outright.
"I heard afterward that Mr. R- had hap-
pened to want some instrument which he had left
at the house; and, not wishing to trust it in the
hands of any of the natives, he came back for it
himself-luckily, just in time, for the bullet from
his rifle killed the panther. But, as you see, my
hand is pretty stiff yet."









OF course, you know that not all the good times
come to the children of grand houses; small
houses, cottages, and even rooms," hold many
happy little folk. The cost of things about us
does n't add to our comfort. China dolls give as
much pleasure as great play-ladies of wax; in fact
the most dearly loved and cherished doll that I ever
saw, was a rag-baby."
Sometimes in the streets of the city you will see
little children dressed very poorly, with perhaps an
old shawl over each tumbled head. It does n't
look as if any good times came to them; but you
will be glad to learn that even to the children of
that class who live in New York, happy days have
really come. It is simply because one kind lady
has thought of a way to make them glad every
day, and while they are playing, and having
delightful times, to teach them what will really
open to them a better life when too old for play.
A school !-yes, even a school, but one of a new
kind, where toys and games take the place of
books, and so charming that the little scholars

mourn over a holiday, and fairly cry when threat-
ened with "vacation." It is a pleasant sight, yet
one that somehow brings tears to grown-up eyes,
to see a room full of these little ones, gathered in
from the streets and alleys of the great city, hands
and faces washed, and all at happy play, while
really learning to be neat little housemaids, ready
when big enough, to become busy with honest
work, instead of with mischief. I wish every one of
you could look in on the scene, but at least you
may see part of it in pictures, while you hear how
this wonder is wrought.
Fancy a poor little girl, not more than five or six
years old, brought in from the streets where she
has never learned anything good. She is placed
in a sunny, bright room, where flowers are growing
and pictures hanging. She is put into a little
chair, seated before a table just high enough for
her, and-wonder to her-a set of toy dishes,
knives, forks, napkins, glasses and all, complete, is
set before her. Other little girls are around her;
and, playing with these charming dishes, with the



help of kind ladies, she soon learns to set a table
properly, although she has perhaps never before
seen half the things used. She hears the pretty,



'4F 3


piU.LLy hiL.l bUls lon, sui
washes in tiny tubs and
scrubs with baby scrub-
bing-brushes; she cleans
the toy dishes; she makes a


doll's bed; and all

the work is joined to music and merry songs,-
face all smiles, and eyes all sparkles.
This strange and delightful school has but six
lessons in all; each lesson is packed full of songs,
exercises, and plays, and there 's a whole month to
learn it in. The first month, playing with little
bundles of sticks, tied with bright colored strings,
the little girls learn to kindle fires, and handle
matches; how to use ashes and charcoal; how
wood grows; how to keep wooden things clean,
and many other things, useful to a little house-
maid; while all the time they think they're only
playing a new, and very nice, game, with several
kind and pleasant young ladies to teach them
how. And with each lesson they sing some lively
song, like this:
Little children can you tell,
Do you know the story well,

How the trees grow in the wood,
And for what the sticks are good?

" Then about the matches learn,
How they 're made, and how they burn;
Not to scratch them on the wall,
Nor on the carpet let them fall."

Then, with pieces of white paper, singing another
song, they learn how to fold and iron napkins
and table-cloths, towels, handkerchiefs, and other
things; and last comes a stand-up play, a very
nice one, called "Waiting on the door," about
Which I must tell you.
The girls stand in a ring, excepting one who has a
Small bell in her hand, and is alone outside. The
piano strikes up a lively air, and the children all
join hands and move in a circle, singing:

Here goes a crowd of merry little girls,
Who 've lately come to school;
They 're going to learn to sing the kitchen song,
And mind the kitchen rule,
As they go round, and around, and around,
As they go round once more;
And this is the girl, the very little girl,
Who 's learning to wait on the door."

The verse ended, the circle stands still, and the
outside girl, who is the "visitor" in the play, rings
her bell,-a make-believe door-bell. The girl who
stands next to her is the servant," and she at once

turns around to fc-- th --i itr.rv.-- ?ks:
Is Mrs. Bro .. ,:
"Yes, ma'an' : i- rly.
"Please let io,, '. -.I to
the parlor, and I II -" .,l: to
She then
leads the vis-
itor across the .i
circle to a pre-
tended room,
and 'asks:
"Will you .
please give me
your name ?" I.
Having done
this, the ser-
vant takes the
bell, and pre-
pares to be-
come visitor.
The circle goes
more, singing the song over, and the new visitor
rings. This time the servant replies politely:
"Mrs. Brown is in, but wishes to be excused."
The visitor takes leave, and hands her bell to
the next. After the song again, the bell rings the
third time, and an answer like this is given:

I. i .: .i,, o :' C



Mrs. Brown is out. Will you please leave a
message ? "
Sometimes there is one message, sometimes
another, and the little girls try hard to say it just
right, because if one fails she cannot take the bell
and be visitor next time. They think this play

Yes, ma'am; please walk in," was the reply
of a shy little door-tender, about eight years old.
But another little girl about six, who was wiping
off the stairs, did not approve of this shortening of
the proper reply, so she prompted, in a low voice,
yet with a funny elder-sisterly air:

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.; -'^ .: :j

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.., .. -, 1 "- -, ;-,

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great fun, and they are as dignified and polite
while playing visitor or servant, as though it were
all earnest-as, indeed, it is, for after a while when
these little players come to open real doors for real
visitors, they will know just how to do it, and will
not be rude nor make blunders. .In fact, they do
it nicely now, and each one of them considers it a
treat to wait on the door of the school building,
which they do by turns. A few days ago a lady
rang the bell, and asked if the principal was in.

F: I L-t L

1. !- ,I ,, _. , i ,- :,l ,t L. t ,,: t,_,, . i i-,e

plete array of breakfast dishes, with table-cloth,
napkins, and small round table to match.
Ah, what bliss the first toys they ever had !
With these before them, they learn how to lay the
table, to put on the cloth, to place knives and forks,
glasses and napkins. When all is arranged, they
repeat the lesson together, pointing to each article
as they name it.
These are little breakfast-tables. This is the
coffee-pot; it should be scalded before the coffee is
put in. This is the sugar-bowl; it should be filled
when taken from the table. These are the knives.
This is the fork; we eat with the fork. These are


the i... ,.,:- -, . -d.t f L
plat .-: .
sholI i.- :I .
be h, ,: -
so 50 c..- i .: C,, ...
T 1 1,,,,1 !,,. ,,, ,,, ,, ,.-f I
less .' : H i i s,. ,- ,- -
for r!i .i : !-, .' i i. :,. ci ,
to wurk itl rcad. kilLchell and wlho
began by calling the tines of a WASHING DISHES
fork its teeth; and who once set the breakfast-tabl.-
to their own satisfaction by placing the coffee-p r
-that being the tallest article-in the middle ..t
the table, and the rest of the service in a ring
around it!
Next comes clearing the table, teaching what
to take away first, how to collect and pile up /,
silver and dishes, and brush and fold the table- f
cloth so that it will retain its creases and its
fresh appearance.
Then another toy-a dish-pan of the most
._.,!1i; sort-is placed before each small ,r.
housemaid, and she plays wash the dishes, rins-
ing them in clear water, and drying each article
on its special towel, while she sings:

"Washing dishes,
Suds are hot.
Work away briskly,
Do not stop.
"First the glasses;
Wash them well;
If you do them nicely,
All can tell.
"Then the silver
Must be bright," etc.

You 'll better see the use of this careful teaching
when I tell you that many of the girls, at first,

breathe on the glasses to polish them They are
taught here to not only wipe a glass on the glass-
towel, but also to set it down with the towel, without
touching it with the hands. So thorough is the
training in this school.
The play ends with each little worker placing her
clean dishes in their two small boxes, setting the
boxes on the round table, and turning the dish-pan
upside down over all. Then a march strikes up,
and the girls rise, take up the articles they have
used, march around the room, and leave them in a
cupboard at one side.
"Bed-making and sweeping" does n't promise
much fun, does it? But you should see these
happy children, each with a doll's bedstead, which
has nice bedding, like a regular bed; you should
hear them sing:

"When you wake in the morning,
At the day dawning,
Throw off the bedding, and let it all air;
Then shake up the pillows
In waves and in billows,
And leave them near windows, if the day is quite fair."

For this play, the little maiden lays the clothes
from the bed over two small chairs, folding the
spread and the "pillow-shams," laying off pillows
and turning mattresses to air. Then she begins
over and makes up, spreading everything
-: ll- t. _..;. .. ... ,;..1 .. ;,! i, a
ir. k. I: hl.: t ihe
4 '" *. : ,.".- I [ 1 l.IS-
'* A. '* ,u.... I.i .: : .,iss,

sWctping is unC of tili pitL- .: est exercises they
learn. To a lively song, the delighted chil-
dren, in couples, skip around the room, each re-
ceiving at one point a pair of brooms, tied with




gay ribbons; and after various performances with them, singing a song, they sweep,
form into line again, and skip around through an arch formed by part of the class
...* with their raised brooms, and, at last, leave their
'--.-...-. .-"hpere the-,- r"oi"edl them. The lesson

. , 1- ._.. t. -.

I I. rI V i, ,,. I h
hi '',,,1- "h :


I I.. I : 1i,, rl I:.
son tak ., he L, i. 1 1.,i1- 1 ,-
ens into a i geniimr- ..1 1.
m orn in g SHINING BRIGHT! scen r
next ten minutes the school-room : lu- .,
laundry as you could wish to see.
The tiny tubs and shining little wash-
boards are brought out and distrib-
uted, and the fresh white clothes-line
is hung from clothes-posts set into the
four corners of the table. Then each
small washerwoman rolls up her
sleeves and devotes herself very ear-
nestly to her bag of soiled clothes.
And now the scene is lively enough, I
assure you, while the busy workers
are sorting the clothes rapidly and
getting them ready for the hard tussle
with the wash-board which they will
soon have to undergo. Every part of -
laundry-work gets its share of atten-
tion in this useful play,-for the girls ,
make-believe to heat the water and to .
boil, rinse and blue the clothes,-but ,
the prettiest sight it affords, I think, :..
is the two rows of sturdy little bare
arms, rubbing the clothes up and
down, for dear life; over the little
wash-boards, and keeping time to the ,
music of this lively song, while the '
merry voices sing it, to the tune of
" Barberry Bush":

"This is the way we wash our clothes,
Wash our clothes, wash our clothes.
This is the way we wash our clothes,
So early Monday morning."



I 1I~

fo a ":

VE s,


. .


You would laugh, too, to see the queer little garments, which are of dolls'-size, dangling from
the clothes-line in true wash-day style, and fastened to it by the funniest of baby clothes-pins,
each not over an inch and a half long. Taken down from the line with busy little fingers, the




clothes are supposed to be ready for sprinkling,
This is the way we sprinkle our clothes,
Sprinkle our clothes, sprinkle our clothes,"
sing the little washerwomen, pretending to sprin-
kle; then follows
"This is the way we iron our clothes,"
and the fourth lesson ends with the proper mo-
tions for ironing.
Scrubbing follows washing, of course, and the
little workers, with their three-inch-long scrubbing-
brushes polish the table in front of them while
they sing with spirit:
"Scrubbing away
At break of day
To make our homes look neatly;
For a good hard scrub is the very best way
To make all smell so sweetly.
Chorus.: Then scrub away in your very best way
With face so bright and cheerful;
For a cheery face meets much more grace
Than one that's always tearful."
Nothing that 's nice to play is forgotten in this
most wonderful school. After the scrubbing, comes
jumping the rope, when each girl skips round the
room with a rope tied with gay colors, and keeping
time to a galop. And then a play where two girls
in the center hold one end of the rope of each girl
in the ring, thus forming a wheel, and all sing a

.-% -s ?' ,
'e r !
,' .'-^ .


J ",
.- "2. ":

song about the rope,-how they skip with it, hang
clothes on it, and so forth.
Now the girls have been playing, and having a
nice time for four months,-one month's lesson
each week,-and they have learned enough to be
trusted with a dinner-table, its different sets of
plates, different courses, etc. They learn the
proper way of changing the plates and removing
the courses, brushing the crumbs away, arranging
dessert, and so on; while a "pricking lesson"
teaches, in the kindergarten way, the parts of beef
and mutton, and how to cut and cook each.
Now, saved to the very last-you 'll be amazed!
-comes the one crowning delight of you country
youngsters-mud-pies /
This is really-really "-- says shocked Mam-
ma, and What can a child learn that is useful in
that way, I should like to know," says Aunt Jane,
Truly, dear Mamma and Auntie,-to make real
pies. Watch them: the clay (molding-clay, my
dears, is the .i.:. i-"p name of mud) is nice and
soft, and the smiling children roll it out, cover their
toy pie-plates, cut out their baby biscuits, knead
their dolls'-size bread and rolls, play pat-a-cake, and
sing a song of the salt, so that they '11 never forget
to use it when they are big enough to have dough
to knead instead of mu- clay:




S r


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'1. -' 4~

41 V.'

* i.


... % 'L '^ *. . .. -, .- . .. .

'" ". , ,.' ,'- I ., I. ,, .
k' -'d- ,d.d t L -u0k ,,,luuL

Then the mud-pie play is over; but is n'i ;t
good that even these poor little city babies, I .:
never saw nice country mud,-that is, wet
sand-should really have the fun of pie-
making, even though it has to be played
4 in-doors, and is called "molding."
The last play of all is a very pretty Muf-
fin-ring Exercise," in which the girls sing
another lively song, telling how to make
muffins for breakfast. Here is a verse:

Plump little hands you wash them all clean,
And roll up your sleeves till your elbows are seen,
Then in a large apron all cooks should be dressed,
And now you are ready to learn all the rest."

This school, called the Kitchen Garden,
is the result of a "happy thought," which
arose in this way: Miss Huntington is at
the head of the Wilson Industrial School,
in which there are two hundred and fifty
German girls. The school gives dinner to Ith.
scholars every day, and as it was not found pi .-
ticable to hire enough help to do all the work, f.. 11
girls were selected from the school-room every 'I '
to assist the cook about this meal. To the surprise
and dismay of the teacher they were almost utterly
useless, because they did not know how to wash a
dish nor peel a potato.
Miss Huntington found that she needed to spend

i i..r .-.Ir- in ihi.- kitchen teaching them,
:.i.-.l -i- i,.i- ..:,. ,.. hundred and fifty to be
*',, .i-r. ". '.I ..,I. !'.- n [ he kitchen at a tim e, so
i., ,r it ...i.-1 t l I.: i,.-.i than two months to get
.:., i!,..l .. i ',f .i ,-,1'' d .:e w hat a
task was before her. Besides, she

a a, t'.

.. . : . .

,- ^ .p~ k to *- *

think of the girls
growing to be w- "TIS I THE WAY WE WASH
men, so ignorant
of housework and nice house ways. Looking one
day at a kindergarten, the happy thought flashed

V j


into her mind that
kitchen-work could be
taught in the same ;
delightful way by
plays and songs.
This idea was thought
out and put in practice
by the earnest woman,
and the school has been
in operation for three
years. You will like to
hear how it works, and
whether the little ones
really learn to do any-
thing. It is simply doing
wonders. Poor mothers,
whose lives are all hard
work, come to the schools and
thank the teachers heartily for
what their children have learn-
ed. The kitchen work of the I..
school goes on beautifully. Whe.
bed is to be neatly made, or a ro:-,,,,
properly arranged, one of the 1lIi..
kitchen-gardeners can do it nicely.
To the teachers of another Kitchen
Garden, at "The Old Brewery Mis-

sion" of Five Points,-a most interesting and
useful school,-the mothers cannot be thankful
enough; they have been taught better ways of
doing common things by their little daughters,
who have become much more helpful at home,
and more neat and pleasant in their ways. One

.six lessons creditably
and is more than twelve
S" years of age, in a situ-
'" ; A ation in a respectable
Family, where she can
i earn wages suitable to
Si er years; thus start-
ing her in a life that is
f-useful, and saving her
from miseries that you
cannot imagine.
Besides the valuable in-
S ""' "struction, there is over
them, all the time, the
S - influence of ladies of re-
Sfinement, who teach from desire
Sto be of real use to them; and,
without knowing it, the children
Silearn lady-like ways, neatness of
dress and of person, quiet tones
of voice, and, above all, respect
',, lie work that true ladies are not
.i aIed to perform.
',- .-.: Rev. Dr. Bellows says, in writing
of ivilss Huntington's plan: "What idea
READY TO GO TO of a more valuable and urgent character
MARKET, has lately come into any woman's head,

or any man's, than the idea that girls, poor or rich,
could be taught, in great classes, and by the hun-
dred, all the methods of setting the family table,
of serving the food, of cle ,ii.i .
knives and forks, of wa:, .
dishes and clothes, ofswe.. .I_ ,l:

mother was so pleased with
little four or five year old
to the school


t, lil


the remark of her
girl that she came
on purpose to
tell the teacher.
The mother had
lighted a match
on the wall, as
usual; but the
child remem-
bered her school
lesson about
matches, and,
turning to her
mother, quoted,
in a reproving
.:.! .oice, the couplet,
iU11 you

, I- -. i.t L .I-m on the wall,
N ..i. . pet let them fall."

Last and best of all, you will be
"MOLDING." glad to hear that a kind lady who
takes a deep interest in this particular school, has
promised to place each girl, who goes through the

rooms and dusting closets
and ceilings,-how to
handle knife and fork,
broom and duster; how
and in what order to
take hold of all forms
of household work?
There is a best way of
doing these things, and ol i.,


trained and experienced 'THE PRICKING-LESSON."
housekeepers, by expen-
sively trained servants, have hitherto been able to
practice it. Most domestics have proved incapable
of learning it,-because they began too late."
But Miss Huntington takes these little girls in time.
There is scarcely a thing in the work of an ordi-
nary house-servant that they do not learn something
about. Perhaps there was never any one thing
that will do so much to help the very poor of New
York as this one happy thought will do. It helps
the girls themselves to better lives, does good to
all with whom they live and associate, influences
the parents and homes, and will, in the end, affect
the big city itself.





THREE hundred years ago two men met in the
library of a little villa of Arcetni, one mile south of
It was a picture for a painter. One sat quite
motionless in a tall Gothic chair. His square-
built, commanding figure was bent, as if at last
crushed with the weight of life. His once soft chest-
nut hair and beard had turned to white. The dark,
deep-set eyes were closed, but the face was lumin-
ous with thought.
Beside him stood a young man whose beauty had
been the marvel and the jest of his associates. An
erect and finely proportioned body, surmounted by
a head princely in its carriage; the face was with-
out beard, the light-brown waving hair flowed
backward. The features were finely cut. The
complexion was pure and delicately tinted, and the
eyes were a clear, dark gray.
The one was Galileo, philosopher and mathe-
matician, now, in his seventy-fourth year,-after all
his toils, and triumphs, and distinguished honors,-
prisoner of the Inquisition, confined in his own
house, and-blind !
The other was Milton, twenty-nine years of age.
It was a gentle pathway the young man had
come. First, his peaceful London home in Bread
street, where he was born in the year 1608, at the
sign of the Spread Eagle"; for in those days
houses were known by signs instead of numbers.
A lovely home, with its books, its music,-of his
own father's composing,-the pleasant bustle from
his father's business, and the good cheer, and
loving-kindness of all. And then, did not the
gentle poet, Shakspeare, pass the door now and
then on his way to the "Mermaid"?-a house of
entertainment near.
Here dwelt the child Milton, a little hard-headed
boy, with close-cut hair; clad in a black-braided
dress, fitting close around his little neck and arms,
and with a lace frill about the neck. Already a
studious boy, with a lovable seriousness" in his
face. Here he lived with indulgent parents, his
brother and sister, and his Puritan tutor.
Those were royal days, when the attractive child
was the beloved center of interest to the household
and its circle of genial friends. We can see him
watching the grand processions in the street, and
feeding the sparrows at the windows, and playing
with his games, or bending over his picture-books;
or sitting perched on the high stool before the old

organ picking out some melody to please his ear,
or leaning attentively beside his fond tutor.
Afterward, he is the lad going daily to St. Paul's
school, eager for learning, devoted to his masters,
and striving to excel. All along are still that fond
mother and father, and that happy home.
Farther on he is the youth in Christ's College, at
the University of Cambridge, and has donned its
picturesque gown. Here he speeds like a young
conqueror through the realms of philosophy, mathe-
matics and letters. But to be a master of these
forces is not enough. He must create. He
finds all about him thoughts and beauty that have
never been told. Language is rich, and it is his.
What he finds he turns into a world of words full
of power and music. He stands before the gowned
masters and fellows, and grand, gay lords and
ladies. They listen breathless to his eloquence,
and when he ceases there is great applause, and
they call him the orator and poet of Cambridge.
But his best strength does not come from books
nor the grave masters, nor the jovial fellows of his
class. He has still his happy and his good father
and mother.
At this time his home is transferred from the
busy London street where his father had gained a
sufficient competence, to the charming village. of
Horton, with its green meadow, its sky-larks, and
primroses beside the trim hedges; its old, old
trees, its neighboring gentry, and the distant view
of Windsor Castle.
When Milton, therefore, at the age of twenty-
three, had finished with Cambridge, he went to
Horton and lived at home six years. Those were
six golden years. In that quiet rural spot he
became, for the first time, thoroughly acquainted
with Nature. Nor was he an idle dreamer. Never
was there greater mental activity than his. He
massed and systematized the vast learning he had
gained, and added to his store.. Nor was it "all
work and no play." There was a delightful charm
in the brilliant trappings, the grand music, and
romantic doings of his courtly neighbors, who drew
him into their high festivities, and made him the
poet of their masques. Here he wrote some of his
finest verse.
But for what was he preparing? His honesty
would not permit him to enter the Church, which
then enforced that which he disapproved. In this
the father's cherished wish was disappointed. It


was not yet clear to the young man himself what
he should do.
Here also, in the quiet of contemplation, became
immovably fixed the belief which had grown and
strengthened with him, and which is the key to all
that is called Miltonic." It was this: *
That a man to be strong must be absolutely pure.
That great courage, magnanimity and achievement,
are based upon self-respect. That a man should
be as perfect as his ideal of a woman. That self-
mastery, with disdain of the finical, luxurious and
immoral, must be the first conquest. That a great
man must be himself unblemished. That a great
poet must be himself a poem.
When, therefore, after these six years of steady
growth, Milton leaves the home and the loved ones
at Horton to travel upon the continent, and pre-
sents himself before the aged Galileo, we have in him
a picture of a perfect manhood; a poet, the basis
of whose nature is solid and fixed; a man among
men, with a stoic scorn of temptation; a courage-
ous and self-reliant man, who has earned a spotless
title to self-respect, which dignifies his whole bear-
ing and gives it a nobleness that crowns his glorious
personal beauty.
Yet was this same man's nature full of grace and
melody, and, with all his grandeur of intellect, he
had humility before God.
At this time he believed that all his past had been

but preparation, and that before him was a great
work to do, which, when finished, the world would
not willingly let die."
Milton, seated beside Galileo, puts questions, and

listens with eager and intense interest to the dis-
course of the brilliant philosopher. And then they
go forth into the garden, the broken man leaning
upon the strong, young arm; and, as they go, Ga-
lileo talks of his vines, which he used to prune, of
his "lady mule," of the two pigeons in the dove-
cote, of the vases holding the orange-trees, which
were shattered by a storm while he was in Rome by
order of the Inquisition. And he points to the
distant convent of St. Matthew, where but now his
beloved daughter, Celeste, had died. He calls
her a person of most exquisite mind," for whom
he continually grieves. She who, though parted
from him, had cared for him, and fed him on cour-
age and strength out of her deep love,-she had
gone out of the world along with his liberty and his
daylight. Her sweet, homely attentions,-the
chocolate biscuit, the baked pear or quince, or cup
of preserved citron, the stitches taken by her fingers,
-the persistent unforgetfulness. He misses her in
every way.
He speaks of his former delight in his garden and
his pleasure in a rural life.
"The book of Nature," he says, "is written in
the characters of geometry; when once their
meaning is revealed, we may hope to penetrate
Nature's deepest mysteries." To young Milton
the book of Nature seems equally written in char-
acters of poesy.
They continue their way past the bean-vines and
the pear and plum and lemon trees, to the tower
where reposes unused the famous telescope. And
the blind man says sadly:
"We can ill afford to lose one of our senses.
The principal doors into the garden of natural phil-
osophy are observation and experiment, and these
are opened with the keys of our senses.
"I am hopelessly blind, so that this heaven
and this earth-which I, by my discoveries
and demonstrations, had enlarged a hundred
thousand times beyond the belief of the wise men
of by-gone ages-henceforward is shrunk for me
into such small space as is filled by my own sen-
I must be content. Of all the sons of Adam,
none yet have seen so much as I."
And then they leave the tower, and return to the
room whence they had come, and the aged man
continues: "I have studied and wept too much!
Sir, you cannot know the great difference between
using one's own eyes and those of another."
Then the blind old man sits down to his lute,
and comforts his soul with its sweet music.

Next, Milton takes rooms in London, and gathers
his books about him; and, while teaching his
nephews, begins to lay out great literary schemes.




Among numerous other subjects,hethinks of "Par- changes in his home affairs,-his marriage with
adise Lost," and even writes out a plan of the great Mary Powell; the births of three children, Debo-
poem. He decides that it shall be written in English rah, Anne, and Mary; and the death of his wife.
rather than Latin, the language of learned Europe. His domestic life often was clouded. Twice again


Soon he sees that these poetic thinking must
be abandoned. His country is in distraction;
civil war is coming. And when his country and
his God require him, shall he be "dumb as a
beast"? The need of strong prose, written on
every subject that affected liberty, was now greater
than the need of an immortal poem.
Thus, in his thirty-third year, his public life
began. He wrote pamphlet after pamphlet in the
interest of freedom and the Commonwealth. But
while the clear and glowing eloquence of those
writings aided the Puritans greatly, it also enraged
the Cavaliers. By his bold utterances at this time,
Milton brought upon himself a storm of fury which
lasted through the best years of his life.
During this time there were speedy and great

he married. Afflictions and cares beset him. Never
was his own home so peaceful as that of his young
life. But private troubles were put aside in his
zeal for the public good.
He saw his king, Charles I., beheaded, and
thought the deed a just one. The Commonwealth
was set up, and then Milton was made Secretary
of State. Next the Commonwealth went down and
the young king went up, and Milton was hunted
and persecuted and impoverished. The money he
had lent parliament was lost. He was robbed by
fire and imperiled by the plague, and, like Galileo,
he at last became blind.
Fourteen years before his death he left public
life, with the decision he had come to when entering
it. His battle was now fought. He retired to the



shelter and seclusion of his home, and in his blind-
ness, composed the greatest epic that was ever
sung-his "Paradise Lost."
What is great and abiding does not grow up
effortless. There had come to Milton, too, at last,
the slow years of groping without sight. Other

wrote for him, hour after hour, and day after day,
while he listened with that seeing ear, and dictated
his immortal lines.
But as the years rolled on, his daughters often
became weary of reading languages they did not
comprehend, only for the purpose of aiding him

eyes must find his material; other voices must make in writings that seeymd to them very grand and
it known to him ; other fingers must hold the pen. beautiful, but not, they thought, of any great use
His daughters felt "great tenderness" for this further than to divert his mind; for if ever finished
man-so beautiful in age. They were charmed and sold, the poem, very likely, would bring only
with his delightful company, his flow of subject, a few pounds into the family treasury.
and unaffected cheerfulness." And they rend and So he leaves his daughters more and more to




their girlish interests, and takes such other helps
as come to hand; yet he never deviates from his
Great was the anguish of groping to control the
petty details of his matchless work. From inaccu-
racy of words, down to punctuation, it was the
pitiful sight of a giant in chains.
Now he remembers the words of Galileo about
the difference between using your own hands and
eyes and those of another.
But while those eyes, seemingly perfect as ever,
saw nothing, the mind grew boundless and pro-
phetic in vision.
And with this man, long used to mastery, at last,
"neither blindness, nor gout, nor age, nor penury,
nor domestic afflictions, nor political disappoint-
ments, nor abuse, nor proscription, nor neglect,
had power to disturb his sedate and majestic

patience." The strength of his mind overcame
every calamity."
These are the words of Macaulay, and he adds,
"we can almost fancy we are visiting him, in his
small lodgings, that we see him sitting at the old
organ, beneath the faded green hangings *
that we are reading in the lines of his noble coun-
tenance the proud and mournful history of his
glory and his affliction."
Down the years to us is echoed his poem on
his blindness, with these closing words:

"Doth God require day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask; but Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need
Either man's work, or His own gifts; who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best; His state
Is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait!"



T-HE next morning, we all went around to see
the queen, and on the way we tried to arrange our
affair. I was only sorry that my old school-fellows
were not there, to go into the thing with is. There
could n't have been better fun for our boys, than to
get up a revolution, and set up a dethroned queen.
But they were not there, and I determined to act
as their representative as well as I could.
We three-Corny, Rectus and I-were agreed
that the re-enthronement-we could think of no
better word for the business-should be done as
quietly and peacefully as possible. It was of no
use, we thought, to make a great fuss about what
we were going to do. We would see that this
African ex-sovereigness was placed in a suitable
regal station, and then we would call upon her
countrymen to acknowledge her rank.
It is n't really necessary for her to do any
governing," said Rectus. Queens do very little
of that. Look at Queen Victoria! Her Prime
Minister and Parliament run the country. If the
African governor here is a good man, the queen
can take him for a Prime Minister. Then he can
just go along and do what he always did. If she
is acknowledged to be the queen, that 's all she
need want."

"That's so," said Corny. "And above all
there must be no blood shed."
None of yours, any way," said I; and Rectus
tapped his bean, significantly.
Rectus had been chosen Captain of this revolu-
tionary coalition, because Corny, who held the
controlling vote, said that she was afraid I had
not gone into the undertaking, heart and soul, as
Rectus had. Otherwise, she would have voted for
me, as the oldest of the party. I did not make
any objections, and was elected Treasurer. Corny
said that the only office she had ever held was that
of Librarian, in a girls' society, but as we did not
expect to need a Librarian in this undertaking, we
made her Secretary and Manager of Restoration,
which, we thought, would give her all the work
that she could stand under.
I suggested that there was one sub-officer or
employ, that we should be sure to need, and who
should be appointed before we commenced opera-
tions. This was an emissary. Proper communi-
cations between ourselves and the populace would
be difficult, unless we obtained the service of some
intelligent and whole-souled darkey. My fellow
revolutionists agreed with me, and, after a moment
of reflection, Corny shouted that she had, thought
of the very person.
It's a girl !" she cried. "And it's Priscilla i"
We all knew Priscilla. It would have been



impossible to be at the hotel for a week and not
know her. After breakfast, and after dinner, there
'was always a regular market, at the entrance of the
hotel, under the great arched porch, where the
boarders sat and made themselves comfortable
after meals. The dealers were negroes of every
age,-men, women, boys, and girls, and they
brought everything they could scrape up, that
they thought visitors might buy,-fruit, shells,
sponges, flowers, straw hats, canes, and more traps
than I can remember. Some of-them had very
nice things, and others would have closed out their
stock for seven cents. The liveliest and brightest
of all these, was a tall, slim, black, elastic, smooth-
tongued young girl, named Priscilla. She nearly
always wore shoes, which distinguished her from
her fellow country-women. .Her eyes sparkled like
a fire-cracker of a dark night, and she had a mind
as sharp as a fish-hook. The moment Corny
mentioned her she was elected emissary.
We determined, however, to be very cautious in
disclosing our plans to her. We would sound her,
first, and make a regular engagement with her.
It will be a first-rate thing for me,", said Corny,
"to have a girl to go about with me, for mother
said, yesterday, that it would n't do for me to be so
much with boys. It looked Tom-boyish, she said,
though she thought you two were very good for
"Are you going to tell your father and mother
about this ?" asked Rectus.
"I think I '11 tell mother," said Corny, "because
I ought to, and I don't believe she '11 object, if I
have a girl along with me. But I don't think I '11
say anything to father just yet. I 'm afraid he'd
Rectus and I agreed that it might be better to
postpone saying anything to Mr. Chipperton.
It was very true that the queen did not live in a
palace. Her house was nearly large enough to
hold an old-fashioned. four-posted bedstead, such
as they have at my Aunt Sarah's. The little room
that was cut off from the main apartment, was
really too small to count. The queen was hard at
work, sitting on her door-stone by the side of her
bits of sugar-cane and pepper-pods. There were
no customers. She was a good-looking old body,
about sixty, perhaps, but tall and straight enough
for all queenly purposes.
She arose and shook hands with us, and then
stepped into her door-way and courtesied. The
effect was very fine.
This is dreadful!" said Corny. She ought
to give up this pepper-pod business right away. If
I could only talk to her, I'd make her understand.
But I must go get somebody for an interpreter."
And she ran off to one of the neighboring huts.

"If this thing works," said Rectus, "we ought
to hire a regular interpreter."
It wont do to have too many paid officials,"
said I, but we '11 see about that."
Corny soon returned with a pleasant-faced
woman, who undertook to superintend our conver-
sation with the queen.
"What's her name-to begin with?" asked
Corny, of the woman.
Her African name is Poqua-dilla, but here
they call her Jane Henderson, when they talk of
her. She knows that name, too. We all has to
have English names."
Well, we don't want any Jane Henderson,"
said Corny. "Poqua-dilla! that's a good name
for a queen. But what we first want is to have her
stop selling things at the front door. We 'll do
better for her than that."
Is you going' to sen' her to the 'sylum?" asked
the woman.
"The asylum," exclaimed Corny. "No, indeed !
You'll see. She 's to live here, but she 's not to
sell pepper-pods, or anything else."
"Well, young missy," said the woman, "you
better buy 'em of her. I reckon she 'll sell out for
'bout fourpence."
This was a sensible proposition, and, as treasurer,
I bought the stock, the queen having signified her
willingness to the treaty by a dignified nod and a
courtesy. She was very much given to style, which
encouraged us a good deal.
"Now then," said Rectus, who thought it was
about time that the captain should have something
to say, you must tell her that she is n't to lay in
any more stock. This is to be the end of her mer-
cantile life."
SI don't believe the woman translated all of this
speech, but the queen gave another nodand courtesy,
and I pocketed the peppers to keep as trophies.
The other things we kept, to give to the children
and make ourselves popular.
How much do you think it would cost," asked
Corny of me, "to make this place a little more like
a palace ?"
I made a rough sort of a calculation, and came
to the conclusion that the room could be made a
little more like a palace for about eight dollars.
"That's cheap enough," said Rectus to me.
" You and I '11 each give four dollars."
"No, indeed!" said Corny. "I'm going to
give some. How much is three into eight?"
Two and two-thirds," said I, or, in this case,
two dollars, sixty-six cents and some sixes over."
"All right!" said Corny, "I'll ask father for
three dollars. There ought to be something for
extras. I '11 tell mother what I want it for, and
that will satisfy him. He can know afterward. I





don't think he ought to worry his lung with any-
thing like this."
She wont want a throne," said Rectus, turning
the conversation from Mr. Chipperton, "for she
has a very good rocking-chair, which could be fixed
"Yes," said I, "it could be cushioned. She
might do it herself."

'I 1 I ,


Of course she could," said Corny Queens, ,
I don't believe Porkeriller can do that," sai

Do thrones rock asked Corny. '

'I ,1 ', '

I -,.'

At this, the colored woman made a remark to the
queen, but what itwas we did not know.
Of course she could," said Corny Quees

I don't believe Porker-miller can do that," said
Rectus, "hut I guess she can pad her chair."
"Do thrones rock?" asked Corny.
VOL. VI.-29.

"Some of 'em do," I said. "There was the
throne of France, you know."
Well, then, that will be all right," said Corny;
"and how about a crown and scepter?"
"Oh, we wont want a scepter," I said; "that
sort of thing 's pretty old-fashioned. But we ought
to have a crown, so as to make a difference between
her and the other people."

How much are crowns ?" asked Corny, in a
thoughtful tone.
S "Various prices," I answered; "but I think we
can make one, that will do very well, for about
fifty cents. I'11 undertake to make the brass part,
if you '11 cushion it."
Brass !" exclaimed Corny, in astonishment.


You don't suppose we can get gold, do you?"
I asked, laughing.
Well, no," she said, but not quite satisfied.
And there must be a flag and a flag-pole," said
Rectus. But what sort of a flag are we going to
have ?"
The African flag," said Corny, confidently.
None of us knew what the African flag was,
although Corny suggested that it was probably
black. But I told her that if we raised a black
flag before the queen's palace, we should bring down
the authorities on us, sure. They 'd think we had
started a retail piratical establishment.
We now took leave of the queen, and enjoined
her neighbor to impress on her mind the necessity
of not using her capital to lay in a new stock of
goods. Leaving a quarter of a dollar with her, for
contingent expenses during the day, we started for
I tell you what it is," said I, we must settle
this matter of revenue pretty soon. If she don't
sell peppers and sugar-cane she '11 have to be sup-
ported, in some way, and I'm sure we can't do it."
Her subjects ought to attend to that," said
But she has n't got any yet," I answered.
That's a fact," said Corny. We must get
her a few to start with."
Hire 'em, do you mean?" asked Rectus.
"No; call upon them in the name of their
country and their queen;" she replied.
I think it would be better, at first," said I, "to
call upon them in the name of about twopence a
head. Then, when we get a nice little body of
adherents to begin with, the other subjects will fall
in, of their own accord, if we manage the thing
"There's where the emissary will come in,"
said Rectus. She can collect adherents."
We must engage her -this very day," said
Corny. "And now, what about the flag? We
have n't settled that yet."
"I think," said I, "that we'd better invent a
flag. When we get back to the hotel, we can each
draw some designs, and the one we choose can
easily be made up. We can buy the stuff any-
I'11 sew it," said Corny.
"Do you think," said Rectus, who had been
reflecting, "that the authorities of this place will
object to our setting up a queen?"
Can't tell," I said. "But I hardly think they
will. They don't object to the black governor, and
our queen wont interfere with them in any way that
I can see. She will have nothing to do with any-
body but those native Africans, who keep to them-
selves, any way."

If anybody should trouble us, who would it be ?
Soldiers or the policemen? How many soldiers
have they here ?" asked Corny.
There's only one company now in the bar-
racks," said Rectus. I was down there. There
are two men-of-war in the harbor, but one of them 's
a Spanish vessel, and I 'm pretty sure she would n't
bother us."
Is that all?" said Corny, in a tone of relief.
I did n't want to dash her spirits, but I remarked
that there were a good many policemen in the
And they're all colored men," said Corny.
" I 'd hate to have any of them coming after us."
The governor of the colony is at the head of
the army, police and all, is n't he ?" said Rectus.
"Yes," I answered.
"And I know where he lives," put in Corny.
"Let's go and see him, sometime, and ask him
about it."
This was thought to be a good idea, and we
agreed to consider it at our next meeting.
"As to revenue," said Rectus, just before we
reached the hotel, I don't believe these people
have much money to give for the support of a
queen, and so I think they ought to bring in provis-
ions. The whole thing might be portioned out.
She ought to have so many conchs a week, so many
sticks of sugar-cane, and so many yams and other
stuff. This might be fixed so that it would n't
come hard on anybody."
Corny said she guessed she 'd have to get a little
book to put these things down, so that we could
consider them in order.
I could not help noticing that there was a good
deal of difference between Corny and Rectus, al-
though they were much alike, too. Corny had never
learned much, but she had a good brain in her
head and she could reason out things pretty well,
when she had anything in the way of a solid fact to
start with. Rectus was better on things he 'd
heard reasoned out. He seemed to know a good
thing when it came before him, and he remembered
it, and often brought it in very well. But he had n't
had much experience in reasoning on his own
account, although he was getting more in practice
every day.
Corny was just as much in earnest as she was the
first day we saw her, but she seemed to have grown
more thoughtful. Perhaps this was on account of
her having important business on hand. Her
thoughtfulness, however, did not prevent her from
saying some very funny things. She spoke first
and did her thinking afterward. But she was a
good girl, and I often wished my sister knew her.
Helen was older, to be sure, but she could have
learned a great deal from Corny.




That afternoon, we had a meeting up in the silk-
cotton tree, and Priscilla, who had sold out her
small stock of flowers in the hotel-door market, was
requested to be present. A variety-show, consist-
ing of about a dozen young darkies with their
baskets and strings of sponges, accompanied her up
the steps; but she was ordered to rout them, and
she did it in short order. When we were alone,
Rectus, as captain, began to state to her what we
desired of her; but he was soon interrupted by
Corny, who could do a great deal more talking in a
given time than he could, and who always felt that
she ought to begin early, in order to get through
in good season.
Now, Priscilla," said Corny, "in the first place,
you must promise never to tell what we are going
to say to you."
Priscilla promised in a flash.
We want you, then," continued Corny, "to
act as our emissary, or general agent, or errand-
girl, if you don't know what the other two things
I '11 do dat, missy," said Priscilla. "Whar
you want me to go ?"
Nowhere just now," said Corny. "We want
to engage you by the day, to do whatever we tell
Cahn't do dat, missy. Got to sell flowers and
roses. Sell 'em for de family, missy."
But in the afternoon you can come," said
Corny. "There is n't any selling done then.
We '11 pay you."
How much?" asked Priscilla.
This question was referred to me, and I offered
sixpence a day.
The money in this place is English, of course, as
it is an English colony; but there are so many
visitors from the United States, that American cur-
rency is as much in use, for large sums, as the
pounds-shillings-and-pence arrangement. But all
sums under a quarter are reckoned in English
money,-pennies, halfpennies, four, six and eight-
pences, and that sort of thing. One of our quar-
ters passes for a shilling, but a silver dime wont
pass in the shops. The darkies will take them-
or almost anything else-as a gift. I did n't have
to get our money changed into gold. I got a draft
on a Nassau house, and generally drew greenbacks.
But I saw, pretty plainly, that I could n't draw very
much for this new monarchical undertaking, and
stay in Nassau as long as we had planned.
"A whole afternoon," exclaimed Priscilla, for
"Why not?" I asked. That's more than you
generally make all day."
"Only sixpence !" said Priscilla, looking as if
her tender spirit had been wounded. Cornyglanced

at me with an air that suggested that I ought to
make a rise in the price, but I had dealt with these
darkies before.
That's all," I said.
"All right then, boss," said Priscilla. I 'll do it.
What you want me to do ?"
The colored people generally gave the name
"boss" to all white men, and I was pleased to see
that Priscilla said boss to me much more frequently
than to Rectus.
We had a talk with her about her duties, and
each of us had a good deal to say. We made her
understand-at least we hoped so-that she was to
be on hand, every afternoon, to go with Corny, if
necessary, whenever we went out on our trips to
the African settlement; and, after giving her an
idea of what we intended doing with the queen,-
which interested her very much indeed, and seemed
to set her on pins and needles to see the glories of
the new reign-we commissioned her to bring
together about twenty sensible and intelligent
Africans, so that we could talk to them, and engage
them as subjects for the re-enthroned queen.
"What's ole Goliah Brown goin' to say'bout
dat?" said Priscilla.
"Who's he? we asked.
He's de Afrikin gubner. He rule 'em all."
"Oh!" said Rectus, "he's all right. We're
going to make him prime minister."
I was not at all sure that he was all right, and
proposed that Rectus and I should go to his house
in the evening, when he was at home, and talk to
him about it.
"Yes, and we '11 all go and see the head gov-
ernor to-morrow morning," said Corny.
We had our hands completely full of diplomatic
The meeting of the adherents was appointed for
the next afternoon. We decided to have it on the
Queen's Stair-way, which is a long flight of steps,
cut in the solid limestone, and leading up out of a
deep and shadowy ravine, where the people of the
town many years ago cut out the calcareous mate-
rial for their houses. There has been no stone cut
here for a long time, and the walls of the ravine,
which stand up as straight as the wall of a house,
are darkened by age and a good deal covered up by
vines. At the bottom, on each side of the pathway
which runs through the ravine to the town, bushes
and plants of various semi-tropical kinds grow thick
and close. At the top of the flight of stairs are
open fields and an old fort. Altogether, this was
considered a quiet and suitable place for a meeting
of a band of revolutionists. We could not have
met in the silk-cotton tree, for we should have
attracted too much attention, and, besides, the
hotel-clerk would have routed us out.



AFTER supper, Rectus and I went to see the
African governor, Goliah Brown. He was a good-
natured old colored man, who lived in a house a
trifle better than most of those inhabited by his



'" i:

fellow-countrymen. The main room was of a fair
size, and there was a center-table, with some books
on it.
When we saw this, we hesitated. Could we ask
a man who owned books, and could probably
read, to play second fiddle to a woman who could
not speak the English language, and who for
years, perhaps, had devoted the energies of her
soul to the sale of pepper-pods ?
However, the office of prime minister was no
trifle, and many more distinguished and more
learned men than Goliah Brown have been glad
to get it. Besides this, we considered that blood
is blood, and, in monarchical countries, a queen is
a queen. This was a colony of a monarchy, and
we would push forward the claims of Poqua-dilla
the First. We called her "The First," because,
although she may have had a good many ancestors
of her name in Africa, she certainly started the line
in the Bahamas.
Goliah proved himself a steady-going talker.
He seemed pleased to have us call on him, and

told us the whole story of the capture of himself
and the rest of the Africans. We had heard pretty
much all of it before, but, of course, we had to
politely listen to it again.
When he finished, we asked a few questions
about the queen, and finding that Goliah admitted
her claims to royal blood, we told him what we
proposed to do, and boldly asked him to take the
position of prime minister in the African com-
At first, he did not understand, and we had to
go over the thing two or three times before he saw
into it. Then, it was evident that he could not see
what business this was of ours, and we had to
explain our motives, which was some trouble,
because we had not quite straightened them out,
in our own minds.
Then he wanted to know which was the head
person, a queen or a prime minister. We set
forth the strict truth to him in this matter. We
told him that although a queen in a well regu-
lated monarchy actually occupies the highest
place, that the prime minister is the fellow who
does the real governing. He thought this might
all be so, but he did not like the idea of having
any one, especially Jane Henderson, as he called
her, in a position higher than his own. We did
not say anything to him, then, about giving the
queen her English name, because we supposed
that he had been used to speak of her in that way,
to white people, but we determined to refer to this
when matters should be settled.
He was so set in his own opinion on this point
of position, that we were afraid we should be obliged
to give the thing up. He used very good argu-
ments, too. He said that he had been elected to
his present office by his fellow Africans; that he
had held it a long time; that he did n't think the
rest of his people wanted him to give it up, and he
did n't think he wanted to give it up himself. A
prime minister might be all very well, but he did n't
know anything about it. He knew what it was to
be governor, and was very well satisfied to leave
things as they were.
This was dampening. Just as the old fellow
thought he had settled the matter, a happy thought
struck me: we might make the monarchy an
independent arrangement. Perhaps Goliah would
have no objection to that, provided we did not
interfere with his governorship. If Poqua-dilla
should be recognized as a queen, and crowned, and
provided with an income sufficient to keep her out
of any retail business, it was about all she could
expect, at her time of life. She certainly would
not care to do any governing. The few subjects
that we should enlist would be more like courtiers
than anything else.





I called Rectus to the door, and suggested this
arrangement to him. He thought it would be
better than nothing, and that it would be well to
mention it.
We did this, and Goliah thought a while.
Ef I lets her be call queen," he said, "an' she
jist stay at home an' min' her own business, an'
don' run herse'f agin me, no way, how much you
s'pose she able to gib fur dat ? "
Rectus and I went again to the front door to
consult, and when we came back, we said we
1.. -h.lr she would be able to give a dollar.
"All right," said Goliah, with a smile. "She
kin jist go ahead, and be queen. On'y don' let
her run herse'f agin me."
This suited us, and we paid the dollar and came
More cash! said Rectus, as we walked home.
"Yes," said I, "but what troubles me is that
queen's income. I don't see now where it's to
come from, for old Goliah wont allow his people to
be taxed for her, that's certain."
Rectus agreed that things looked a little bluish,
but he thought we might pay the income ourselves,
until after the coronation, and then we could see

the army and navy, although she made light of
them,-and so she thought it would be a good
thing to see whether or not we should have to com-
bat with all these forces, if we should carry out our
plans. We took Priscilla along with us on Corny's-
account. It would look respectable for her to have
an attendant. This being an extra job, Priscilla
earned two sixpences that day.
The governor lived in a fine house, on the hill
back of the town, and :Ihh... ii we all knew where
it was, Priscilla was of great use to us here, for she
took us in at a side gate, where we could walk
right up to the door of the governor's office, with-
out going to the grand entrance, at the front of the
house, where the English flag was flying. There
was a red-coated soldier standing just in the door-
way, and when we saw him, we put ourselves on
our stiffest behavior. We told Priscilla to wait
outside, in the path, and to try and behave so that
people would think there was a pretty high-toned
party inside. We then went up to the red-coat
and asked to see the governor. The soldier looked
at us a little queerly, and went back into the house.
He staid a good while, but when he came out
he told us to follow him, and took us through a hall


what else could be done. This was n't much of a
plan, but I could n't think of anything better.
The next day, about noon, we all went to see the
real governor of the colony. Rectus and I did n't
care much about doing this, but Corny insisted on
it. She was afraid of the police,-and probably of

into a room where two gentlemen were sitting
at desks. One of these jumped up and came to
meet us.
There is the secretary," said the soldier in a
low voice to me, and then he left us.
We now had to ask the secretary if we could see




the governor. He inquired our business, but we
did n't seem anxious to tell him.
Anything private ?" he said, with a smile.
"Well, sir," said I, "it's not exactly private,
but it's not a very easy thing to put straight before
anybody, and if it don't make any difference, we'd
rather not have to tell it twice."
He hesitated for a minute, and then he said he'd
see, and went into another room.
"Now, look here," I whispered to Rectus, "if
you 're captain, you've got to step up and do the
talking. It isn't my place."
The secretary now returned and said the gov-
ernor could give us a few minutes. I think the
probability was that he was curious to know what
two boys and a girl could want with him.
The governor's office, into which we now were
shown, was a large room, with plenty of book-cases
and shelves against the walls, and in the middle
of the floor a big table which was covered with
papers, packages of manuscript tied up with tape,
and every kind of thing necessary to make matters
look as if business was brisk in these islands. The
governor himself was a tall, handsome gentleman,
not old a bit, as Corny put it afterward, and dressed
all in white linen, which gave him an air of cool-
ness and cleanness that was quite agreeable to us
after our walk in the sun. He was sitting at one
end of the long table, and he politely motioned us
to seats at one side of him. I expect the secretary
arranged the chairs before we came in. We made
our manners and sat down.
Well," said he, "what can I do for you?"
If Corny had n't been along, I don't believe he
would have seen us at all. There can be nothing
attractive to a governor about two boys. But almost
any one would take an interest in a girl like Corny.
The secretary was very polite to her.
Rectus now gave his throat a little clearing, and
pushed off.
Our business with you, sir, is to see about
doing something for a poor queen, a very good and
honest woman-"
"A poor but honest queen!" interrupted the
governor, with a smile.
Oh, he don't mean a common queen," said
Corny, quickly. He means a black queen,-an
African,-born royal, but taken prisoner when
young, and brought here, and she lives over there
in the African settlements, and sells peppers, but is
just as much a queen as ever, you know, sir, for
selling things on a door-step can't take the royal
blood out of a person."
Oh no, indeed !" said the governor, and he
looked very much tickled.
And this poor woman is old, now, and has no
revenue, and has to get along as well as she can,

which is pretty poorly, I know, and nobody ever
treats her any better than if she had been born a
common person, and we want to give her a chance
of having as many of her rights as she can
before she dies."
"At any rate," said Rectus, who had been
waiting for a chance to make a fresh start, "if we
can't give her all her royal rights, we want to let
her know how it feels to be a queen, and to give
her a little show among her people."
You are talking of an old native African
woman?" said the governor, looking at Corny.
"I have heard of her. It seems to be generally
agreed that she belonged to a royal family in one
of the African tribes. And you want to restore her
to her regal station ?"
We can't do that, of course," said Corny;
" but we do think she's been shamefully used, and
all we want to do is to have her acknowledged by
her people. She need n't do any ruling. We 'll
fix her up so that she '11 look enough like a queen
for those dreadfully poor people."
"Yes," put in Rectus, who had been getting
warm on the subject, they are dreadfully poor,
but she 's the poorest of the lot, and it's a shame
to see how she, a regular queen, has to live, while
a governor, who was n't anybody before he got his
place, lives in the best house, with tables and
books, and everything he wants, for all I know, and
a big flag in front of his door as if he was somebody
great, and "
"What?" said the governor, pretty quick and
sharp, and turning around square on Rectus.
"Oh, he don't mean you!" said Corny. "He's
talking about the black governor, Goliah Brown."
Ah, indeed !" said he, turning away from
Rectus as if he did n't like his looks. "And what
does Brown think of all this ?"
I thought I 'd better say a word or two now,
because I did n't know where Rectus would fetch us
up next, if we should give him another chance, and
so I said to the governor that I knew Goliah Brown
would make no objections to the plan, because we
had talked it over with him, and he had agreed
to it.
"Well, then, what do you want that I should
do for you? said the governor to Corny.
Oh, nothing sir," said she, but just to make
it all safe for us. We did n't know exactly what
the rules were on this island, and so we thought
we'd come and see you about it. We don't want
the policemen, or the soldiers or sailors, or anybody,
to get after us."
There is no rule here against giving a queen
her rights," said the governor, who seemed to be
in a good humor as long as he talked to Corny,
"and no one shall interfere with you, provided you





do not commit any disorder; and I'm sure you will
not do that."
Oh no said Corny; we just intend to have
a little coronation, and to ask the people to remem-
ber that she's a queen and not a pepper-pod
woman; and if you could just give us a paper per-
mission, and sign it, we should-at least I should-
feel a good deal easier."
"You shall have it," said the governor, and he
took some paper and a pen.
It seems a little curious," said he to Corny, as
he dipped his pen in the ink, that I should serve
a queen, and have a queen under me at the same
time, does n't it?"
Kind o' sandwiched," remarked Rectus, who
had a face like frozen brass.
The governor went on writing, and Corny and I
looked at Rectus as if we would singe his hair.
You are all from the States, I suppose," said
the governor.
I said we were.
What are your names?" he asked, looking at
Corny first.
Cornelia V. Chipperton," said Corny, and he
wrote that down. Then he looked at me.
William Taylor Gordon," said I. When the
governor had put that on his paper, he just gave
his head a little wag toward Rectus. He didn't
look at him.
My name is Samuel Colbert," said Rectus.
Corny turned short on him, with eyes wide open.
Samuel !" she said in a sort of theater-whisper.
"Now then," said the governor, "this paper
will show that you have full permission to carry out
your little plans, provided that you do nothing that
may create any disorder. If the woman-your
queen, I mean-has been in the habit of earning
her own livelihood, don't make a pauper of her."
And he gave us a general look as if the time had
come to say good-bye. So we got up and thanked
him, and he shook hands with us, Rectus and all,
and we came away.

We found Priscilla sitting cross-legged on the
grass outside, pitching pennies.
"That thar red-coat he want to sen' me off,"
said she, "but I tole him my missy and bosses was
inside, and I boun' to wait fur 'em, er git turned
off. So he le' me stay."
Corny, for a wonder, did not reprove Priscilla for
giving the sentinel the idea that her employers
hired penny-pitchers to follow them around, but
she walked on in silence until we were out of the
grounds. Then she turned to Rectus and said:
I thought your name was Rectus !"
It is n't," said he. It's Samuel."
This was no sort of an answer to give Corny, and
so I explained that Rectus was his school name;
that he was younger than most of us, and that we
used to call him Young Rectus; but that I had
pretty much dropped the ",-.,-.n -" since we had
been traveling together. It did n't appear to be
But why did you call him Rectus, when his
name's Samuel?" asked Corny.
"Well," said I, laughing, "it seemed to suit him."
This was all that was said about the matter, for
Priscilla came up and said she must hurry home,
and that she'd like to have her sixpence, and that
changed the subject, for we were out of small
money and could only make up eleven halfpence
among us. But Priscilla agreed to trust us until
evening for the other hoppenny."
Corny did n't say much on the way home, and
she looked as if she was doing some private think-
ing. I suppose, among other things, she thought
that as I considered it all right to call Rectus Rec-
tus, she might as well do it herself, for she said:
Rectus, I don't think you're as good at talking
as Will is. I move we have a new election for
All right," said Rectus, I 'm agreed."
You could n't make that boy angry. We held a
meeting just as we got to the hotel, and he and
Corny both voted for me.
(To be continued )






ARTHUR likes to play that he is a street-car driver, that Romeo is his
horse, that a chair turned upside down is the car, and that Jemima is a
young lady taking a ride on her way to do some shopping. You can
see Jemima in the picture, sitting with her back to the driver.
Romeo, it is true, does not look in the least like a horse. But it's just
as much fun to drive him, and Arthur knows that there are places where
people ride on elephants, and use them to drag carts and wagons; and he
says: "An elfant is a gweat deal stwonger than a horse; and pootty fast,
too. Why should n't a elfantdwaw astweet car? Get up, Womeo "
But, this time, Romeo went too fast; so Arthur called to him: Whoa
-whoal Hold up now, Womeo Don't you hear the lady on the back
seat wants to say somefing? I neverdid see such aelfant. Whoa, I say !"
Then he turned around to Jemima, and asked in a polite voice:
"What did you say, ma'am? The car makes such a noise,'bumping
on the stones, I can't hear a word! I s'pect you 've got the cwoup, or
somefing. Well, ma'am, I can't make out what you say; and oh, there's
about seventy-'leven people waiting on the corner!"
"Miss Jemima says that Billy is coming up the street and through
the gate," said Arthur's mamma, who sat by the window reading.
Oh, goody-goody-goody cried Arthur, as he jumped off the
car. Jemima fell on her face, and Romeo on his back; but Arthur did
car. Jemima fell on her face, and Romeo on his back ; but Arthur did


not stop to pick them up. He put on his t
hat and ran just as fast as he could out into
the yard, and there he met Billy.
Billy was his Uncle Tom's little dog, and
Arthur was very fond of him. He was
never cross nor ugly, and knew a great many -'
pretty tricks. He could stand on
his hind legs, and shake hands, and ','
"speak," and jump backward and -
forward through a little hoop, and .. "
be "dead," and come "alive" again,
and do ever so many other things. I
Arthur was never tired of playing.
with Billy, though Billy was some- ---
times a little tired of going through his tricks for Arthur. While Billy
stayed, poor Romeo and Jemima were forgotten; but as soon as he went
away, Romeo had to go to work again, and Jemima took another ride.

,elm ete m --_ prety -- j
iI ': -'

HARKEE, harkee to the clock,-
Tick, lock, zick, lock /"
*-:', '- ----, This the pretty clock doth say
5-. i" '-"'i All the night and all the day.
" '. ...',." .. . ..Tick, lock, lick, lock/"

;,,, --- -' ,---" Tick, lock, lick, lock/ "-
-- ." .,"' Is this all that you can say
All the night and all the day ?
^'.s- -, ." And the clock makes answer quick,
Tock, lick, lock, lzck "




-- S


4n 44


Now the noisy winds are still;
April's coming up the hill!
All the Spring is in her train,
Led by shining ranks of rain:
Pit, pat, patter, patter,
Sudden sun, and patter, patter!-
First the blue, and then the shower,
Bursting bud, and smiling flower,
Brooks set free with tinkling ring;
Birds too full of song to sing;
Dry old leaves astir with pride,
Where the timid violets hide,-
All things ready with a will,-
April's coming up the hill!

That's the way your Jack feels about it, you see;
and he is n't an April fool, either,-that is, not if
he knows himself. But may be he does n't know.
Now you shall have another sort of April story:

The learned and famous Frenchman, Dr. Rabelais, once found
himself in Marseilles without money. He wished to travel to Paris,
but could not contrive a way to do so. At last, however, he hit upon
a plan.
He started, one first of April, carrying with him some full phials
labeled "Poison for the King and the Royal Family." At the city
gates, according to the custom in those days, the traveler was searched,
and these suspicious-looking bottles were found, as he intended. The
officials were horrified, and they promptly arrested him, and hurried
him off as a State prisoner to Paris, there to be tried for treason.
Not long after his arrival, Rabelais and his bottles were taken before
the judges. Then the doctor, who was very well known as a wit,
made a little explanation, showed that the phials contained nothing
but brick-dust, and was at once released,-the court, the accusers, the
lookers-on, and all Paris, convulsed with laughter at the joke.

I THINK, my dear children, there should be a
revised edition of the Cock Robin tragedy. I
never could see any propriety in the bull being at
that bird-funeral. The Campanero or bell-bird
could have tolled the bell, even though there had
been no bell in the world. It has a fleshy horn "
on its forehead, you see, which is connected with

its palate, and at a moment's notice it can fill this
with air,-and then you should hear it 1 It ut-
ters a solemn, clear bell-note, like the toll of a
distant convent bell, pauses for a minute or
two, then gives another toll,-another silence
and another toll,-and the sounds can be heard
three miles off.
It is a sad pity the Campanero was not at Robin's
funeral, for it is a gentle creature and its dress is
most appropriate for such an occasion-being snow
white, while the horn" is jet black with a few
white feathers. True, they would have had to
send to the country of the Amazon for it, but
the birds could have managed that.

THAT story told by Dr. Hayes about Greenland
seals and icebergs-printed in last month's ST.
NICHOLAS, I believe-reminds me of another story,
also about a seal, only it was a seal of a large kind,
called "ookjook" by the Esquimaux who hunt
it. Here is the story:
Captain Tyson, the Arctic explorer, once espied
an ookjook who had come up through a hole in the
ice to breathe. The explorer beckoned to a com-
panion to bring a gun as quietly as possible and
shoot the creature. Meanwhile, the captain whis-
tled a plaintive tune as musically as he could. The
ookjook was so charmed by the pleasant sound that
he lingered and listened until the gun came and he
was killed.
Now, I 'm told that all seals are fond of
sweet sounds, whether made by instruments, sung,
whistled, or, sometimes, merely spoken, and that
they' will keep still and listen, giving a hunter time
to come within shooting distance.
But perhaps there is a slight mistake, and the
seal is only watching for a good chance, while he
grumbles to himself, something like this:
Pshaw Only let me catch that troublesome
fellow, and I'll soon put an end to his noise I"

DEAR JACK: Here is a little story which you may like to know:
An interesting feature of a number of the foreign sections at the
Paris Exhibition was the soldiers who had been sent there by their
respective governments, nominally to guard the exhibits, though
principally as a sort of ornament, they being simply required to stand
round and be looked at by the curiosity-seeking visitors. Some eco-
nomical governments, thinking that wooden soldiers would answer the
same purpose at a less expense, accordingly displayed figures repre-
senting soldiers in the various uniforms, and people in the different cos-
tumes of the country. These figures were sometimes quite well made,
and were placed in such positions as often to appear very life-like.
We have more than once seen people open their mouths to ask their
way of one of these wooden soldiers; and we ourselves on one occa-
sion deeply apologized to a wooden Chinese mandarin, whom we
had carelessly run into and almost thrown off his balance.
Sergeant Jones, of the United States Marine Corps, had doubtless
witnessed similar laughable mistakes, and this is probably what sug-
gested to:him the idea of playing a little trick at the expense of the
At all events, one fine afternoon, as we were passing through the
American Section, we found the sergeant standing perfectly straight,
and absolutely still, near one of the show-cases. Rather perplexed at
his attitude and at the seriousness of his expression, we sought a post
of observation and waited.
For a while no one noticed him, but as he continued immovable,
some one presently stopped before him and stared. Then two, three,
four, six idlers stopped to see what the first idler was looking at.
There stood the sergeant, grave, silent, and motionless. An incred-
ulous smile appeared on the faces of the observers, and their number
doubled, trebled, quadrupled. The sergeant had not moved. Some
one ventured to touch his hand, another followed, and presently a


dozen curious people were feeling him from head to foot. Not a
muscle relaxed-he had not so much as winked. An exhibitor who
was dusting the contents of his show- .: ". up, saun-
tered carelessly along and carefully I..r ii.. .., This
settled the question beyond a doubt: it was .. i s were
now about three hundred people of all nationalities gathered about
this marvelous piece of workmanship i
C'est bien une statue! "-
Quel merveilleux travail! "-
"Awh weally, now you know, those Yankees are jolly clever
people !"-
Wal, I reckon there aint anything can beat this in the whole
show !"-
Chin a ring chop stick young hyson peking yang tse kiang! "-
Amiodo naga sakito kio yeddo "-
Stamboul maho metali ya tib6 loublou "-came from three hun-
dred throats in twenty different languages.
(These last three exclamations, as you will readily understand, dear
Jack, are expressive of the utmost wonder and admiration in the
Chinese, Japanese and Turkish languages. I might multiply these
expressions of .' i-:. i. an unlimited extent, and give you a high
opinion of my i ..... powers. But I believe that modesty is a
virtue-to be proud of )
The last man had barely opened his lips to have his say, when the
look of admiration suddenly departed from the three hundred faces,
and the three hundred throats simultaneously sent out a guffaw which
fairly shook the vast edifice, and attracted hundreds of visitors from
all sides.
The statue had turned on its heel and quietly marched off.
Truly yours, J. H. F.
Now, my serious young botanists, here is some-
thing for you, and for everybody else who has a
magnifying glass,-to look at carefully,-a Magic

'I -

I I i
/ *" '.\ ._ .--1'-- s

r "i

,* .-- ..

,, 1 -; -. _.
I ., -- ..

the secret most important for a person to know;
but it will act only on three conditions: First, that
the inquirer be quite alone; second, that every
line on the leaf be examined through a good
magnifying glass, and with the left eye only, the
right eye being kept closed by a gentle pressure
from the middle finger of the left hand, which must
first be passed around by the back of the head;
and third, that the secret, when known, be faith-
fully kept by the lucky finder.


If you will follow these simple rules closely, my
young wiseacres, the secret no longer will be a mys-
tery to you.

Boston, Mass.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: In the April number, r878, you asked
if any one knew anything more about the Feast of Kites. I asked a
Japanese gentleman to tell me about it. He did not know of such a
day by that name. In the place where he lived they fly kites until
the i6th of March, and from then until September the farmers are
..: rl ... .i they are not allowed to play games in the fields,
S ..1 .1 i. the crops. Sometimes they have kites eight
leet high. He said men fly them as well as boys, and become very
angry about them. The boys try to get all the kites they can from
each other. Sometimes my friend would gain half a dozen in a day,
and sometimes he would lose as many. They get on each side of a
river and try to pull one another's kites into the water. Sometimes a
man will swim across the river and cut the string of his enemy's kite.
In Tokio they fly kites all the year round, because in the city there
are no crops to prevent.-Your friend, BELLE W. BOTSFORD.


ONE autumn day, several crows alighted under
an oak-tree near my pulpit, and began to search
among the fallen leaves. Presently, one of them
picked up an acorn in his bill, flew off some distance
to where the ground was soft, dropped the acorn
into a little hole, and then, with his bill, pushed
earth into the hole until it was full.
Now, that was a useful thing to do,
and, if this planting of trees is a habit
with all crows, it is generous pay in
return for the few kernels of grain they
eat and the thimbles, scissors, jewels,
and such little things, which they may
S- steal from time to time.
As for the corn which the crows pick
out of the newly sown fields in spring,
F, --why, your Jack's opinion is that it's
Pretty small wages for keeping down
field-mice, worms and insects while the
rest of the grain is ripening.

DEAR JACK: Here are some things I think your
readers may like to hear about the plants of the prairies.
In Minnesota and Wisconsin I have seen the prairie
colored for miles with the delicate purple of the lead-
plant, with the red and white praire-clover, with sun-
flowers, asters, the iron-weed, or by the golden-rod, or
a species of purple liatris.
One day, I was riding along a prairie lane. There
was a narrow wagon-track, and. on either side of this,
as far as I could see ahead, there were two broad rib-
bons of bright yellow formed by the prairie coreopsis.
It took up all the lane, from the wagon-track to the
green -. :...'. dges, above which its bright
head '. '.; *.I. if it stood on tip-toe, for a look
over; and beyond the hedges, in the meadows, right
and left, were blotches of the same gay yellow, covering
acres and acres. The strong colors of the prairie blossoms, and
their unsheltered position, make them striking to the eye.
Many persons think that it is only trees that do not grow on the
prairie, but, for every tree or tree-like plant not found there, you miss
also a dozen of the smaller kinds of plants. Nearly all the ferns and
lichens are absent, and mosses and fungi, as well as most herbs and
Although there are great numbers of plants on the prairie proper,
they are not of many different kinds; but in the timbered belts of the
prairie, and along its rivers, there is more variety.
Wherever there are mountains, many rivers, and forests, there are
sure to be also many kinds of plants. New England, with rugged
...- .. 1... patches of old woods, although in great part culti-
i .i i-. 1., i has three times as many varieties or different sorts
of plants and animals as can be found in any equal extent of prairie,
although the prairie may have greater quantity of its few kinds, by
reason of its being vastly more fertile and bathed by a more genial
climate.-Yours truly, S. W. K.



alt ..

P .



I HAVE just read the directions for making a bird-house in
ST. NICHOLAS for April, 1877, and feel like setting to work at
once to see if I can make anything as pretty as that little picture.
But before getting out my hammer and saw, I want to tell you boys
and girls about my bird-house, which is a much simpler affair, and
would perhaps turn out better, with beginners, than the one already
described for you.
My bird-house, by the way, is not my own invention. I read in
some newspaper that an oyster-keg made a good bird-house, and an
oyster-keg is what you must have in the first place. Most of you
know what these kegs are, and can easily get one from some store or
some oyster-man. Leave the heads in, and stop up the bung-hole;
then cut a round hole, two inches in diameter, in the side, about two
inches from the end you design for the floor of your house, and nail
this end firmly to a square piece of board large enough to project a
couple of inches all round, like a little platform. Next, cover the outside
of the keg with pieces of rough bark. If you have a wood-pile to go
to, you can probably find logs from which you can pry off wide, curv-
ing pieces that will go half round your little house; but if not, you
must get smaller bits from trees in the woods, and trim them with a
knife to fit side by side; no matter if the joining are not very close,
when the house is fastened on some arbor or trellis, no eyes but the
birds' can possibly see the crevices, and they are not critical, bright
as they are. Use small brads for nailing on the bark, and if driven
in a little on the slant, they will hold the bark more securely. For a
roof, nail two wide strips of bark to the upper rim of the keg in such
a position that their upper edges will meet to form a gable just in the

middle above the door. It is not necessary to have this roof water-
tight, because the head of the keg will keep out the rain; trim off the
upper edges of the bark roof-sides so that they will meet closely, but
if they do not stay together well, bore a few holes and take several
stitches with fine wire, and your work will be better.
The house will look prettier if you make the roof both wide and
deep, giving what, in a real house, would be called "overhanging
Last of all, fill up the open spaces under the gables with bits of bark
trimmed to fit, and nailed to the sides of the keg. Now, your bird-
house is complete! Nail it on top of the grapearbor, or in the crotch
of a tree, and hang a bit of cotton-wool and a few hairs about the door,
which the birds will read as we read the sign "To Let," and see if you
do not have wrens and blue-birds comingto look at the vacant house,
and, at last, some nice little couple "concluding to rent it for the
No matter if your house is not ready until late in the season. I do
not think all the birds get to housekeeping before June, and you
know, often they build more than one nest in the course of the sum-
mer; so, unless there are too many cats about, I think you may be
pretty sure of a tenant.
When I made my little house, I had no idea it would last more
than one summer, but it has weathered the storms of four winters and
still looks well. Every spring the wrens and blue-birds squabble and
fight for possession of it, the wrens, I am sorry to say, always coming
off conquerors! And every spring I watch the nest-building from my
window with great satisfaction. o'B.




Stockton, Cal.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am everso glad that you printed my letter,
and the picture of my house, in the January number of the ST.
NICHOLAS, and I write this to tell you my thanks.
On New Year's day my friend Fannie and I received calls at my
house; we had sixteen callers. We gave them coffee, candy, pop-
corn, macaroons, raisins, oranges and apples.
We had a real nice time.-Your friend, NELLIE LITTLEHALE,

To C. LINDSLEY, JR.-An article about the house-fly will appear
in ST. NICHOLAS before very long, and when it does, you will be able
to find in it the answer to your question.

THE illustrated article about Little Housemaids in this number
of ST. NICHOLAS was prepared after repeated visits to the so-called
Kitchen-Garden classes of New York both by the author and the
artist. We think all our boys and girls-and their parents, too-will
be entertained by the account of this novel school; and we shall be
glad if some of our older readers are prompted to take a practical
interest in similar work.
Every class of twenty-four scholars at the Kitchen-Garden has
four teachers, and a dozen or more classes in New York alone are
taught by about fifty volunteers, who have 'been trained by Miss
Huntington herself. There is plenty of room for more schools, and
it is a good work for young girls to do, if they have leisure time and
fit qualifications at command. The position of servant-girl becomes
a grade of honor when once its duties are faithfully learned and cheer-
fully performed, and it is delightful to think of poor little street waifs
being thus led to know the dignity of household service, and helped
to enjoy its full benefits.
Miss Huntington has just printed a book by the aid of which any
band of girls can start a Kitchen-Garden school in the right way and at
almost no expense. No doubt any necessary questions will be cheer-
fully answered by the lady herself at 125 St. Mark's Place, New York,
-though correspondents 'should bear in mind that her time is very
much occupied by daily duties.

Newark, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I send you a rhyme which came from a
young reader and admirer of yours in Wisconsin. The mercury there
stood at 30o deg. below zero,--almost too cold for us, here, to imagine.
Still, your magazine reaches many who can appreciate the lines if you
print them. S. H. JOHNSON.


WE sit and wish
That we, like fish,
Could live beneath the weather;
But sometimes go
To a hole to blow,
And wriggle back together.-LIZZlE.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl that lives'way down in
Louisiana; 1 will tell you how I had the yellow fever this summer.
The yellow fever for a month had been all around us, and we were
strictly quarantined from everybody, and never went outside our yard.
One afternoon, when my sisters and I were walking up and down
the yard, I felt cold and came back to the house and went to bed with
; -li- hebi'- d The next morning I woke up with the yellow
:. .. I .. the day before we could get a doctor to come.
They kept me in bed without allowing me to put my hands outside
of the cover, and all the time they were giving me foot-baths and hot
bricks to keep up the perspiration; I had nothing but orange-leaf tea
and hot lemonade until my fever left me; and it lasted fifty-four hours.
I was very sick the second night, but the third night, thanks to the
care ofa good nurse who sponnT-d me my fever was broken.
Then they began to giv.. ..- I.iu: nourishment, a spoonful every
two hours; at last, on the tenth day, I was well enough to sit up and
be washed, and have my things changed, but it was a whole month
before I was allowed to eat dry bread. Does not that seem funny?
My little brother was taken shortly-after I was, hut, his fever being
lighter, he would soon have been well had he not had a relapse. The
good God kindly preserved us both and most miraculously spared the
rest of our family from taking it.
I shall never forget the dreadful scenes of this summer.
I forgot to say that the very day I was taken sick my ST. NICHOLAS

came and mother read it to me; after the first day the doctor would
not let them read to me for a long time, so I often remember those
pretty little stories. EDITH EUSTIS PUGH.

THE stars and star-groups or constellations named in Mrs. Harriet
Prescott Spofford's story, The Boy Astronomer," of which the first
part is published this month, will be found fully described and pictured
in Professor Richard A. Proctor's illustrated astronomical articles
published in ST. NICHOLAS for October and December 1876, and
in all the numbers from January to October, x877, inclusive.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I saw in Professor W. K. Brooks' article,
"How Birds Fly," the statement that "Birds also make use of the
wind to aid them in flight, and by holding their wings inclined like a
kite, so that the wind shall slide out under them, they can sail long
distances without l I-;.-. their wings at all," etc. Is this cor-
rect in the sense he..- u -. 1
Wind is air in motion in relation to objects on the earth's surface;
while it is the motion, or velocity of birds in relation to the air which
enables them to sail as described.
Professor Brooks remarks that the principle of this sailing is the
same as -i. i. I, of a kite. This is true. The bird's inertia acts the
same to : iI.: string acts to the kite. But the inertia of the birdies
the same whether the bird is in motion and the air is at rest, or whether
the bird remains "stationary" with the air in motion. Hence, the
state of the air, whether at rest or in motion, has nothing to do with
the number of minutes a bird can sail. The Professor also said that
the wind drove the bird upward, and at the same time forward. If
this were the case, why could not the bird sail as long as the wind
lasted? I have always been told that no matter how great a gale is
blowing, to persons sailing through the air in a balloon there always
seems to be a perfect calm, unless, indeed, when the balloon suddenly
passes from onecurrent of air into another. Is this not so with birds
floating in the air?
Can it be otherwise, since they sail equally well in all directions?
Hoping you do not disapprove of my stating my views, I remain
your reader, EDWARD C. MERSHON.

Baltimore, Md.
EDITOR ST. NICHOLAS: My young correspondent seems to be
able to think out for himself the problem of flight, and I know that if
he will examine the subject again, watching the flight of birds, espe-
cially of the larger water-birds, with and against the wind, he will find
that many of them are good sailers. He must bear in mind, though,
that a bird is not a light body floating in the air like a balloon, but is
heavy, and does not float, and that its weight, pulling it down upon
the air beneath its wings, is the most important of the forces which
drive it forward.-Yours truly, W. K. BROOKS.

Orange, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have just heard this true story of two little
girls, children of the principal of a boys' school.
They had always been in the habit of playing boys' games, and
knew. nothing of the delights of dolls. When they were three and
four years old, their mother, thinking it a shame that they did not
know how to play dolls, bought one for each of them. She spent the
whole morning in teaching them to play. After a time she left them,
thinking that they would be all right. When she came back, she
found them using one of the dolls for a ball, playing "One old cat."
The girl that had the batwas saying, "Pitch me a low one, Jennie,"
and the other replied, "No, Carrie, now it's my innings."-Yours
truly, E. S. M.

(See March "Letter-Box "for the Puzzle.)

THE wires supporting the ice, in the frozen puzzle, melt the ice
where they touch it, and it settles down, upon and around them, by
its own weight. The wires, being very slender, melt only narrow,
shallow grooves which they leave in the ice behind them. The water,
running down from the ice, gathers in these grooves, and, being sur-
rounded by the ice and protected from the air, the water freezes
again, and thus closes up the grooves just as fast as the wires cut into
the ice. Re-freezing like this happens whenever two wet surfaces of
ice come close together, and we call it regulationn." It is this prop-
erty of regulation that explains some of the strange movements of
those great rivers of ice called "glaciers." Men used to think the
ice bent and twisted round the sharp comers as it slipped down its
crooked valleys. Now they know that ice never bends, but that the


ice-river breaks and re-freezes, breaks and re-freezes, into new shapes,
again and again, under this strange process of regulation. Lumps of
ice swimming in hot water and touching one another, will freeze
togetherin this way.
Break up some ice into small bits, close your hand tightly over a
number of them, and plunge the fist into warm water. Hold it in the
water a moment; then take it out and open the fingers, and you will
find the bits of ice frozen together into a single lump.

AN AUDACIOUS young contributor sends us the following picture
and jingle:

.1> ;
"-4 >-

II3 I -
l'i ,,,', -- ---_y--

This figure
Is a figure,
Made sick
By a brick.

EDWARD C. M. will find most of his questions more than answered
in the article entitled "Little Puritans" which opens the present
As to the voyage of the "Mayflower,"-the ship left Delfthaven, Hol-
land, in July, 162o, and did not cast anchor off the shore of the New
World until December Ix of the same year. The children on board
must indeed have been tired of their five months' voyage, cooped up
with so many stern-looking men and sad-faced women in such a little
vessel. Why, there are disagreeables enough even nowadays, in a
nine-days' trip by a fine ocean steamship i However, the little Puri-
tan boys no doubt had some good times in the few sunny hours of
their weary journey, for sailors were fun-loving folk even in those
days of hard, solemn living.
The voyagers left home in the middle of the beautiful summer, to
come to a land about which they had heard little besides pleasant
things; and they tossed and rolled and struggled through those long
months of storm and calm, slowly buffeting their way to the home that
was so bright in their fancy, only to land, one bleak wintry day,
beneath a leaden sky, upon a rocky shore where there were no kind
friends to welcome them into snug houses, but danger and want, and
fierce red-skinned savages, to meet them. How disappointed all of
them must have been And yet, no doubt they were glad to land,
and walk about, and feel the firm earth under foot once more.

LOISEL PAPIN.-Hobson was a keeper of a large livery-stable in
the university town of Cambridge, England, in his time the center
of a famous fox-hunting district. He let out horses for hire, and, as
he had none but good horses, he was well patronized, especially by
students from the university. The customers used to haggle about
terms, and some never would have any horses but the particular ones
they liked, so the hostlers were bribed, some horses were overworked,
others not worked at all, and vexatious quarrels sprang up, giving
the stable a bad name. To cure these troubles, Hobson at last
decided to have but one scale of prices, and made a rule that any per-
son who should wish to hire a horse of his, must either take the one
that came next in order in the stable or go without. After that, these

regulations were never broken, and the stubborn old fellow became
rich as well as famous on account of them and of the goodness of his
And now, whenever you are obliged to take some one thing of a
number, or else to go without, you are said to have "Hobson's
Elmira, N. Y.
DEAR EDITOR: The inclosed metrical rendering by S. Young of a
little incident in a nursery school of this city seems to me to have
merit.-I am, yours respectfully, THos. K. BEECHER.

THERE were nine mothers'-darlings all gathered for school,
Where they learned to sit still for ten minutes by rule;
There was one little boy who three crackers had brought;
For eating was better than lessons, he thought;
When recess time came, then he brought out his lunch,
But eight other wee mouths there had nothing to munch.
We had always supposed his stomach was all
The organ he had, for his body was small;
But we were mistaken; for we did not know
That a generous heart was beginning to grow;
First he looked all around, then he nodded his head,
And "shevided" his crackers,-that's just what he said,
And those nine little people were every one fed.
Will some of our wise men, when given to thought,
Please to tell what they think? Was a miracle wrought?
For the boy and the crackers were both very small,
But I saw for myself, there was plenty for all.
If we all were as ready as he to "shevide,"
If we looked all around with our eyes open wide,
If we did what we could to feed all that we meet,
And were willing to learn as a child at His feet,
Why might not many "wonderful works" now be done
Every day twixtt the rising and setting of sun.

before February 2o, from Mabel Jenks and her brother- Lucy R. and
Ella Robinson-Tecumseh-Edward Vultee-" 'Tilr^h^-l- n "-W.
E. Ward-O. C. Turner-each of whom answered .1 rl. i *- :es cor-
rectly. Answers were received also from Fanny Seaver-J. Arnot
Palmer-Bessie Hard-Jesse Robertson-C. Dorsey Gloninger-Al-
bert T. Emery-Florence Wilcox-Lizzie H. D. St. Vrain-M. E. L.
and Y. T. L.-Archan D. Tillett-Daisy Wakelee-Flavel S Mines
-" H. M. S. Pinafore and Baby Mine"-Fannie M. Beck-Otho F.
Humphreys--" The Mr. Flint Man "-" Fordyce Aimee"-Mabel
Gordon-John V. L. Pierson-Dora N. Babbitt-Agnes Nicholson-
Freddie T. Krafft-Florence Wilcox-Camille Giraud-Golden-haired
Flaxie-A. T. Stoutenburg-Severn P. Allnutt-Mary G. Arnold-
Frankie T. Benedict-Fannie F. Smith and A. F. Freeman-Harry
Noel-Stephen Wray-Bertha Potts-Bessie S. Hosmer-Maggie J.
Gemmill-Willie H. Meeker-Bertie H. Jackson-R. R. Blyden-
..-.-... and Constance Myer-Bessie C. Barney-James F.
I .,i,..-t.r.'. Burnett-Sarah Gallett-Harold Bald-Bertha E.
Keferstein-Ronald K. Brown-Frances Hunter-Edward Roome-
A. H. Howard.
Eggroe Nohairs sends proof showing that the Domino Puzzle in
the February number may be solved in 40,320 different ways; and F.
H. R. explains how 5,040 solutions maybe made. Following are the
names of the other answerers, and the numbers of solutions they sent:
Forty solutions; James F. Bullitt-Sixteen solutions; H. W. Blake
-Twelve solutions; 0. C. Turner-Eight solutions; William R.
Seven solutions; Hattie A. Connor-Bessie C. Barney.
Four solutions; Geordie J. Anderson.
Three solutions; Jessie Robertson-K. Hartley-Belle Cole-Mabel
Gordon-W. E. Ward.
Two solutions; Lucy R. and Ella Robinson-Belle and Kittie Mat-
teson-Mabel G. Buffington-Flora A. Crane-Bertie H. Jackson.
One solution; A. E., ;I .-- .,. -. M. Roberts, Jun.-
"Helen"-Helen A. L .i ..- i, .- . er-Fanny Elliott-
Emma C. Fitch-Nallie Colvin-Fred Wanner-Helen L. Rogers-
Frank S. Clarke-Samuel Adams-Albert H. Barrows-Charlie Blau-
velt-Seth Hayes-Mabel Jenks and her brother-Willie E. Preston
-Alice M. Harding-W. Tippitt Mausan-Will Whitford-Ned
Whitford-Eddie S. Stetson-Bessie and Hattie Faulkner-Florence
Wilcox-Freddie Shirley-Frankie Hart-"Hobart"-Lizzie H. D.
St. Vrain--M. E. L. and Y. T. L.-Nellie M. C .,........ -- .-..
Eaton-Fred L. Bancroft-" H. M. S. Pinafor i. ; I...
Fannie M. Beck-Otho F. Humphreys-"J. M. A "--" .'.. Koh-
ler-Howard T. Garrett-- .... i. .-r I .. VI, --. .. I i.
Coe-Walter J. Connor-C i !,...i.- ... W. Kirkland-H. R.
T.-Helen Risteen-Agnes Nicholson-"Arrowroot"-Jas. Walter
Turner-A. T. Stoutenburg-Laura C. ..-T-T K. Zust-
Frank Dennis-Harry Burrows-Mary E. i-.. .1 I ulpohock-
en,"-May Parsons-Harry Noel-Flora Jones-Willie J. Warner-
Willie H. Meeker--Vee C .. ii-T : i. B rock--R. Blyden-
burgh-P. L. Smith-Fre i_.- %., i.-i- Bishop-C. C. Gallup.






i. In unconstitutional. a. Human beings. 3. A sour fruit. 4. A
negative word. 5. In superincumbent.

MY first is in cotton, but not in silk;
My second in water, but not in milk.
My third is in noble, but not in peer.
My fourth is in sword, but not in spear.
My fifth is in mail, but not in post.
My sixth is in slide, but not in coast.
And now you will see, if you rede this aright,
My whole is something which gives you light.
E. G. w.

I. SYNCOPATE a thread-like substance and leave to shoot. 2. Syn-
copate the shore and leave expense. 3. Syncopate the name of a
wise Greek and leave .i. .i* ,. Syncopate part of a flower and
leave a loud sound. 5. :*: *'. tumult and leave part of the face.
6. Syncopate around roof and leave an animal. 7. Syncopate to lan-
guish and leave to fall. 8. Syncopate a kind of play and leave part
of the head. 9. Syncopate a relative and leave a city of Lombardy.
The syncopated letters, read in order, name an American sea-port.
A. B.


t. I FLOAT upon the water, and my parts are a drink, a person, and
a shout. 2. Change the drink into a river, and I become what a man
did in search for buried treasure. 3. Change the river into a vege-
table, and I become an impudent-looking animal. 4. Change the
vegetable into an insect and I become another insect. 5. Change the
insect into a bird and I become a vessel, such as is celebrated in a
popular Irish song. 6. Change the bird into a pet name for a girl and
I become a drinking-vessel. 7. Change the pet name into a French
measure of surface, and I become a kind of carpet. 8. Change it
into another measure, and I become an ear.
9. Turn the person into the name of the first tone in the minor musi-
cal scale, and I become a game or label.
o1. Let the shout become an insect, and I change to an article useful
to washerwomen. CUTTER.

x. BEHEAD mirth and leave a bird. 2. Behead a handsome girl and
leave a personal pronoun. 3. Behead to own and leave to perceive.
4. Behead a shining body and leave one. 5. Behead a tempest and
leave great anger. 6. Behead poor-looking and leave sour. 7. Be-
head a part of the body and leave another part of it. 8. Behead dis-
dain and leave enchanted. 9. Behead to seize and leave to restore. 1o.
Behead part of the face and leave a personal pronoun. sx. Behead
a domestic animal and leave a drink. 12. Behead a wise person and
leave a preposition. HOPE.

THE answer is an adage very pleasant to remember when work is
done. Every other letter is omitted.
A-L--K-N-N--A-M-K--A--K-S K-D-L--B-Y." E. B.

IN each of the following sentences, fill up the blanks with words
that complete the sense, taking care that the words themselves, when
joined to form one word, agree with the definition that follows the sen-
tence. Thus:
Example: Ask Bridget if she will come on --Mi h- -
for me. Definition: An old-time utensil for : I 1.. '-, .. -in
In this example, the blanks must be filled with the words "and
iron," which complete the sense, and which, when joined,- forming
the word andironn," agree with the definition that follows the sen-
r. I came to -- of your beautiful'flowers, as I have none at
all. Definition: Depart.

2. Look at myhair," said Grandma; this - has silvered
already." Definition: Toll paid for passing from one level of a
canal to another.
3. Let that home; he is of no use here! Definition:
An East-Indian fruit, usually pickled when exported to the United
4. Oh-oh-oh! I really don't see why my teeth !
Definition: A form of beard.
5. You, my poetic friend, are desired to prepare an music
to be recited on examination day. Definition: A name given by
the ancient Greeks to a theater used for literary or musical purposes.
People nowadays occasionally make a similar use of the name.
6. When those shares are at - care to sell out Defini-
tion : To take one's portion with other folk.
7. "- that girl next to you," said the teacher; "and tell
her not to tilt her chair." Definition: A small vase or dish.
8. His debts he never will - though he is to discharge
them all at any time. Definition: Due.

THE answer contains twenty-five letters, and is a quotation from.
Young's "Night Thoughts."
i. The T, 16, 4, 24 is a girl's name. 2. The 7, sI, 22,19, is an or-
namental vessel. 3. The io, 15, 3, 14, is a journey for pleasure. 4.
The 13, 8, 1, 5, is a small animal, useful in gardens. 5. The 17, 23,
6, a, is a sign of some event which is to happen 6 The ?o 0 T?.
6, is a trick or stratagem. 7. The 25, 2i i .: "i.. ....

1. 2.

"1(-r -d.- in former times, a-- was dining withaneminentstate
it :. ... : and was enjoying a highly-seasoned when his,
elegant flashed in the sunlight, and, unfortunately, caught the
eye of the himself: 'unfortunately,' for next day came a polite
message from the grasping ruler, and the brilliant ornament changed
In the above sentence, fill the four blanks with words of four letters.
each and suited to the sense. The words thus used, if written down
one below another in the order of their appearance in the sentence,
will form a word-square, and, reading across, beginning at the top,
will have the following meanings: i. One who is in a position of
responsibility: a title derived from Anglo-Saxon words meaning
"bread-keeper." 2. A dish of boiled or stewed meat: a collection
of various musical pieces. 3. A hoop. 4. The tide of a magnate
of Italy in former times. B.

EACH of the following anagrams contains the letters used to form a
name marked upon all school-maps of North America. The problem-
is to re-arrange the letters of each anagram in such a way that they
will spell correctly the name which has to be found. '
x. Aid Nina. African oil. 3.A Balaam. 4. Asses must chat
5. Ask Abner. 6. Thorn in a coral. 7. 0, no such a trial 8. Nine
atoms. 9. Sin in cows. w.

I. READING ACROSS: x. A vehicle. 2. Bustle. 3. To step quickly.
Primals: A carriage. Finals: The French word for good. Centrals:
A girl's name. Primals and Finals connected: Charcoal.
II. Reading across: x. A Hebrew dry measure. 2. Fuss. 3. A
boy's name. Primals: A truck on wheels. Finals: A lad. Cen-
trals: Trouble. Primals and Finals connected: A large enclosed.
bottle used for carrying chemicals. c. u.




THE answer is a common proverb containing five words. The upper picture must be read first, then the pictures at the bottom
from left to right. The central picture represents the whole proverb put in practice, s. A. R.


NUMERICAL ENIGMA.-" Let there be light." I. Light. 2. Ether.
3- Betel.
COUPLET.-Though thou art fair, I love thee not.
Not heed my prayer, Beauty? For what?
DIALOGUE NAME-PUZZLE.-The names of the twelve authors are:
Dickens, Shakspeare, Dante, Martineau, Defoe, Hawthorne, Beran-
ger, Bulwer Lytton, Berthold Auerbach, Carlyle, Chaucer, Holmes.
The names of the six personages mentioned in the works of some
of the authors are: Pelham, compel hammering, Bulwer Lytton;
Lear, miserable ar rangement, Shakspeare; Beatrice, be at rice,
Dante; Man Friday. i- '- i .'. Barkis, dog's bark is,
Dickens; Sterling, :.; '
BIOGRAPHICAL ,-' .-. 11. ..il .. I'ryant. 1. Lily. 2.
Wilt. 3. Nun. 4. Camel. 5. Bar.
DOUBLE DIAMOND.-Across: i. S. 2. FOe. 3. RaBbi. 4. NEb.
5. R. Down: i. R. 2. FAn. 3. SoBer. 4. EBb. 5. I.

PICTORIAL PUZZLE.-Reflections. CRoss-WoRD.-Water.
SQUARE-WORD.-i. Duck. 2. Upon. 3. Code. 4. Knee.
HIDDEN SHAKSPEARIAN SENTENCE.-" The evil that men do lives
after t- ..-. Casar, Act iii., sc, 2. Yet/e. Hence, vil-
lain. N -: now. Cord or. Live she. Hereafter. The
meanest.- PICTURE PUZZLE.-" Try, try again "
2. Scott. 3. Gay. 4. Baillie. 5. Hood. 6. Sheridan. 7. Emmett.
8. Lamb. 9. Wordsworth. 1o. Child. I. Gray. 12. Crabbe. 13.
Paine. 14. Longfellow. 15. Prior. 6. Brooke. 17. Cook. I8.
Pope. 19. Burns. 20. Swift. .2. Bacon. 22. Lowell. 23. Cole-
ridge. 24. Sterne. 25. Goldsmith.-- CHARADE.-Fraudulent.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC ENIGMA.-Initials: Moon. Finals: Tide.
Cross-words: x. MendicanT. 2. Ossoll. 3. OnwarD. 4. NightingalE.
TWENTY-FOUR CONCEALED ANIMALS.-r. Dog, old Oglethorpe's.
2. Ape, a pebble. 3. Lemur, little murmuring. 4. Toad, into a
dark. 5. Loris, lo rising. 6. Wapiti, saw a 0tiful. 7. Camel,
came limping. 8. Stag, .s ;n" 9. Bear, be a rat. to.
Chamois, such a moist. 1. I- I ... able. 12. Goat, to go at.
73. Sloth, appears loth. 14. Doe, do even. 15. Rabbit, land-crab
bit 16. Lion, shall ? On second. 17. Eland, little landing. .8.
Yak, fly a kite. rx. Fawn, halfawning. o. Cat, to catch. 21.
Fox, stiff ox-goad. 22. Elk, caramel Kate. 23. Hyena, "Oh
ye nations." 24. Ass, in as startling.

For list of the answerers of the February Puzzles, see Letter-Box."