<%BANNER%>
HIDE
 Front Cover
 The kaiserblumen
 A Mississippi chowder
 What was it?
 The baby's morning
 The aquarium at Brighton
 A jolly fellowship
 The Pease boys
 The game of lawn tennis
 Becky's surprise day
 City sparrows - Hercules-Jack
 A few of our habits
 Eyebright
 More un-natural history
 Two ways of seeing - Nan,...
 Agamemnon's career
 Back of the water-fall
 The child-life of Goethe
 Happy-go-lucky
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 Young contributors' department
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover
 Spine


BLDN NEH CCLC ICDL UFSPEC



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mods:identifier NOTIS ocm0176
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(DLC) 2006255186; 55136171
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mods:languageTerm text English
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mods:physicalLocation Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in Special Collections, George A. Smathers Libraries
code UF
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mods:namePart Dodge, Mary Mapes
date 1830-1905
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funding Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
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mods:title St. Nicholas.
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mods:number 6
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No. 10
10
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Literature for Children
St. Nicholas, vol. 6, no. 10
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UF00065513_00076.mets
METS:structMap STRUCT1 mixed
METS:div DMDID ORDER 0 main
D1 Front Cover
P1 Page
METS:fptr FILEID
P2
D2 The kaiserblumen Poem
P3 Plate
P4 633
P5 634 3
D4 A Mississippi chowder Chapter
P6 635
P7 636
P8 637
P9 638 4
D5 What was it
P10 639
D6 baby's morning 5
P11 640
P12 641
P15 642
P16 643
D7 aquarium at Brighton
P17 644
P18 645
D8 jolly fellowship 7
P19 646
P20 647
P21 648
P22 649
P23 650
P24 651
P25 652
P26 653 8
D9 Pease boys
P27 654
D10 game lawn tennis 9
P28 655
P29 656
P30 657
D11 Becky's surprise day
P31 658
P32 659
P33 660
P34 661
D12 City sparrows 11
P35 662 (MULTIPLE)
P36 663
P37 664
P38 665
P39 666
P40 667
D13 few our habits 12
P41 668
P42 669
D14 Eyebright 13
P43 670
P44 671
P45 672
P46 673
P47 674
P48 675
D15 More un-natural history 14
P49 676
D16 Two ways seeing 15
P50 677
P51 678
P52 679
P53 680
P54 681
D17 Agamemnon's career 16
P55 682
P56 683
P57 684
P58 685
D18 Back the water-fall 17
P59 686
P60 687
P61 688
P62 689
D19 child-life Goethe 18
P63 690
P64 691
P65 692
P66 693
P67 694
P68 695
D20 Happy-go-lucky 19
P69 696
P70 697
D21 Jack-in-the-pulpit 20
P71 698
P72 699
D22 Young contributors' department 21
P73 700
D23 letter-box 22
P74 701
P75 702
D24 riddle-box 23
P76 703
P77 704
D25
P79
P80
D26 25 Spine
P81
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St. Nicholas, vol. 6, no. 10
ALL VOLUMES CITATION SEARCH THUMBNAILS PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00076
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas, vol. 6, no. 10
Series Title: St. Nicholas.
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: -c1943.
 Subjects
Subjects / Keywords: Literature for Children
Genre: Children's literature
Periodicals
serial   ( sobekcm )
 Notes
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: notis - ocm0176
oclc - 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
oclc - (DLC) 2006255186; 55136171
System ID: UF00065513:00076

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    The kaiserblumen
        Plate
        Page 633
        Page 634
    A Mississippi chowder
        Page 635
        Page 636
        Page 637
        Page 638
    What was it?
        Page 639
    The baby's morning
        Page 640
        Page 641
        Page 642
        Page 643
    The aquarium at Brighton
        Page 644
        Page 645
    A jolly fellowship
        Page 646
        Page 647
        Page 648
        Page 649
        Page 650
        Page 651
        Page 652
        Page 653
    The Pease boys
        Page 654
    The game of lawn tennis
        Page 655
        Page 656
        Page 657
    Becky's surprise day
        Page 658
        Page 659
        Page 660
        Page 661
    City sparrows - Hercules-Jack
        Page 662
        Page 663
        Page 664
        Page 665
        Page 666
        Page 667
    A few of our habits
        Page 668
        Page 669
    Eyebright
        Page 670
        Page 671
        Page 672
        Page 673
        Page 674
        Page 675
    More un-natural history
        Page 676
    Two ways of seeing - Nan, the newsboy
        Page 677
        Page 678
        Page 679
        Page 680
        Page 681
    Agamemnon's career
        Page 682
        Page 683
        Page 684
        Page 685
    Back of the water-fall
        Page 686
        Page 687
        Page 688
        Page 689
    The child-life of Goethe
        Page 690
        Page 691
        Page 692
        Page 693
        Page 694
        Page 695
    Happy-go-lucky
        Page 696
        Page 697
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 698
        Page 699
    Young contributors' department
        Page 700
    The letter-box
        Page 701
        Page 702
    The riddle-box
        Page 703
        Page 704
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text









































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T H E KAISER BLU ME N,~


















ST. NICHOLAS.




AUGUST, 1879.


[Copyright, 1879, by Scribner & Co.]




THE KAISERBLUMEN.

BY CELIA THAXTER.


HAVE you heard of the Kaiserblume,
0 little children sweet,
That grows in the fields of Germany,
Light waving among the wheat?

'T is only a simple flower,
But were I to try all day,
Its grace and charm and beauty
I could n't begin to say.

By field and wood and road-side,
Delicate, hardy and bold,
It blossoms in wild profusion
In every color but gold.

The children love it dearly,
And with dancing feet they go
To seek it with song and laughter;
And all the people know

That the emperor's daughter loved it
Like any peasant maid;
And, when she died, her father,
Stern Kaiser Wilhelm, said:

" This flower my darling cherished,
Honored and crowned shall be;
Henceforth 't is the Kaiserblume,
The flower of Germany."
VOL. VI.-43.


Then he bade his soldiers wear it,
Tied in a gay cockade,
And the quaint and humble blossom
His royal token made.

Said little Hans to Gretchen,
One summer morning fair,
As they played in the fields together,.
And sang in the fragrant air:

" O look at the Kaiserblumen
That grow in the grass so thick !
Let 's gather our arms full, Gretchen,
And take to the emperor, quick !

" For never were any so beautiful,
So blue and so white and red!"
So all they could carry they gathered,
And thought of the princess dead.

Then under the blazing sunshine
They trudged o'er the long white road,
That led to the kaiser's palace,
With their brightly nodding load.

But long ere the streets of the city
They trod with their little feet,
As hot they grew and as tired
As their corn-flowers bright and sweet.


VOL. VI.


No. 10.







THE KAISERBLUMEN.


And Gretchen's cheeks were rosy
With a weary travel stain,
And her tangled hair o'er her blue, blue eyes,
Fell down in a golden rain.

And at last all the nodding blossoms
Their shining heads hung down,-
But "Cheer up, Gretchen i cried little Hans,
We 've almost reached the town !

"We '11 knock at the door of the palace,
And wont he be glad to see
All the princess's flowers we've brought him!
Think, Gretchen, how pleased he'll be!"

So they plodded patiently onward,
And with hands so soft and small
They knocked at the palace portal,
And sweetly did cry and call:

" Please open the door, O Kaiser!
We 've brought some flowers for you,
Our arms full of Kaiserblumen,
All rosy and white and blue !"

But nobody heeded or answered,
'Til at last a soldier grand
Bade the weary wanderers leave the gate,
With a gruff and stern command.

But "No!" cried the children, weeping;
Though trembling and sore afraid,
And clasping their faded flowers,
SWe must come in they said.

A lofty and splendid presence,
The echoing stair came down;
To know the king there was no need
That he should wear a crown.


And the children cried: 0 Kaiser,
We have brought your flowers so far!
And we are so tired and hungry!
See, Emperor, here they are "

They held up their withered posies,
While into the Emperor's face
A beautiful light came stealing,
And he stooped with a stately grace;

Taking the ruined blossoms,
With gentle words and mild
He comforted with kindness
The heart of each trembling child.

And that was a wonderful glory
That the little ones befell!
And when their heads are hoary,
They still will the story tell,

How they sat at the Kaiser's table,
And dined with princes and kings,
In that far-off day of splendor
Filled full of marvelous things !

And home, when the sun was setting,
The happy twain were sent,
In a gleaming golden carriage
With horses magnificent.

And like the wildest vision
Of Fairy-land it seemed;
Hardly could Hans and Gretchen
Believe they had not dreamed.

And even their children's children
Eager to hear will be,
How they carried to Kaiser Wilhelm
The flowers of Germany.


I ". I!


/ 71


[AUGUST,








635


A MISSISSIPPI CHOWDER.




A MISSISSIPPI CHOWDER.

BY MARY NORWEST.


"I 'M just suffering for a chowder," said Mr.
Larks.
Are you ? Well, I believe I could make a very
passable chowder out of river fish," said Mrs.
Larks.
That would be a joke Shade of a cod-fish,
rebuke her! "
I 'd like to try it, any way. Catch me some
big salmon,-but a chowder can't be cooked in a
house."
No," said Mr. Larks. We shall have to go
on a picnic."
Father," said Jenny, you know you promised
to take Dum and Dee the next time we went."
Yes, I did ask your little cousins to go."
"And father," said Hugh, "Ralph and Frank
never get a chance to go anywhere; and I think I
ought to have some company as well as Jenny."
I 've no objection. Let me see,-that will just
fill the wagon. I shall want to stay two days.
There is a deserted log-house down there. Brown
slept in it last week. With a load of straw we
could be quite comfortable, even if it rained."
"Where are you going, father?"
Down to Deep Slough."
They all sat up an hour later than usual plan-
ning the frolic.
The Larks family are addicted to picnics. I say
addicted, for some of their neighbors think it
amounts to a vice. Old Mrs. Black is a very
plain-spoken old lady who lives over the way, and
she says you never know what minute they '11 start
the hull year round. They 're a-wild-flowerin',
and a-fernin', and a-blackberryin', and a-autumn-
leavin', and a-redhawin', and a white-sandin', and
now goin' a-fishin' for two hull days. It does beat
all!" And Mrs. Black pushes back her sun-bon-
net, and gazes through her round, bowed specta-
cles in amazement.
The boys and girls came to stay all night, so as
to be on time in the morning; for the plan was to
start at day-break, and breakfast five miles away in
the woods. The boys held deep consultations over
fish-hooks and lines, while Jenny, and Dum and
Dee, fluttered about Mrs. Larks, trying to help.
These little girls had been very properly christened
Mary and Martha. But there was only a year's dif-
ference in their ages, and they were now of exactly
the same size. They dressed alike, and looked
alike, and never had but one opinion on any sub-
ject. So their father took to calling them Tweedle-


dum and Tweedledee, which was soon shortened
to "Dum" and "Dee."
An old darkey, named Jacob, had been engaged
to haul the luggage. He was to start the afternoon
before they did. When he came with his wagon,
Mr. Larks and the boys helped to stow away the
baskets andtubs and buckets filled with bread and
butter and pickles and jam, boiled ham, stuffed
veal, fried chicken, potatoes, ice, eggs, frying-pan,
and the great kettle to hold the promised chowder.
Jacob," said Mrs. Larks to the old darkey who
stood by, grinning, I am afraid your old horse
can't haul that load."
Lor' bless ye, Mis' Larks, that aint no load fur
Jane. Why, Jane is as peart a mare as ever you
see."
Poor thing; she hangs her head as if she was
utterly discouraged."
Jane 's jist in'olent That 's all ails her. She
can pull like a mule when she wants to. But Jane
is in'olent, I can't deny."
"Well, drive on, Jacob," said Mr. Larks, "and
don't camp till you come to the place I told you of,
-the creek, the bridge, and the little red house
on the hill."
And make a fire, and have hot water ready for
our coffee in the morning," said Mrs. Larks.
Yes, ma'am, I 'I1 be thar, and Jane '11 be thar,
and de kittle will be bilin', as shore as de sun goes
round de world Hi, dar you Jane, wake yo'seff
up,-git along."
Slowly old Jane woke up, gradually got her legs
in motion, and the old wagon went creaking down
the street.
Mrs. Larks thought she would never get those
children quiet that night. For the joyous ex-
citement kept the young eyes beaming, and the
tongues wagging and laughter ringing. At last,
Mr. Larks came upstairs and told them he wished
they would go to sleep, so that they 'd all wake in
time to hear a clock strike that he had borrowed
for this occasion from a deaf gentleman. It only
struck once in twenty-four hours, and that was at
four o'clock in the morning. He hoped they would
all hear it, for it was really very curious.
At last, the house is quiet. As the hours go by,
the big busy town is quiet, too; only the bright
young moon is awake and full of light. But it
is n't a full-grown moon, so she don't stay up all
night. Now the dark, still hour before dawn is
slipping quietly away.







636


A MISSISSIPPI CHOWDER.


[AUGUST,


Suddenly a great crash comes in the house,-a Mr. Peterkin !" cried Jenny.
ring-a-rush-a-rattle-te-bang-er-rang-rang !-as The shout of laughter that went up from the
if forty Chinese gongs had been walking in their whole party woke old Mrs. Black, who thought,
sleep, and had fallen down-stairs together. at first, it was a fire; but turned over and said,
In a moment, all is confusion. Voices cry from It 's only them plaguey Larks !"
every room: Away go the horses, clattering through the
O, what is it ?" streets, down to the river,-the noble, the beauti-
Where is it?" ful Mississippi! A deep glow of light mounts up
Is it thunder?" the eastern sky. A delicate bloom spreads over the
Uncle aunty! mother we 're so scared !" great flood, swelling, dimpling, flowing. Its move-
Are you all awake? called Mr. Larks; "it is ment is like life, and its murmur is like breath.
the deaf man's clock t" Then he gave a great Out on the bridge they go. The swift water is
laugh. rushing beneath them, the fresh wind blowing
It 's a sell, boys cried Hugh. Come on, around them, and the morning light shining in
girls." their faces.
There is a rush of white figures through the hall, 0, uncle," said Dee, I know I 'm going to
a great scrimmage, and a general .ill... -r _,lr until have the best time I ever had in my life."
the laughter is almost smothered. But Hugh some- Yes," said Dum, "I can feel it a-beginning
how manages to turn the gas up to a fullblaze,when now !"
the white figures scamper away in much confusion. When they leave the bridge the road winds
Everybody gets dressed in a minute,-even little along beneath great elms and sycamores; on their
Bob, who is only five years old. left the bluff rises wild and leafy, and on their right
I never was up in the mixed of the night runs the shining river.
before," he said. The girls want to go out to see Gayly the horses toss their heads, and bend to
the morning star." their work. Lightly fall their hoofs, as if they
Indeed, we are not hungry, uncle !" knew what merry hearts are behind, on what a
"No eat, n6 go," answered Mr. Larks, firmly. merry holiday.
So they meekly drank the cups of chocolate. Just as the party have settled into quietness, they
Girls are just queer about eating," whispered see the creek, the bridge, and the little red house.
Ralph to Hugh, over his second cup and an un- Down by the river rises the smoke of a fire, and
counted sandwich. old Jacob is swinging his hat in welcome. The
O, girls are not like boys Why, I can eat at young ones bubble over in a great cheer. The
anytime. Can't you?" boys tumble out behind, and go roystering over
But the horses and the great spring wagon are the green. The wagon is stopped near the fire,
at the door. 0, the flurry and the fun of starting! and the girls scramble down over the wheels and
The boys select the back seat as desirable in offer- go capering after the boys. Within five minutes
ing a slight chance of being tipped out, as being they have all poked the fire, skipped stones on the
behind the girls, whom they delight to teaze, and water, swung on grape-vines, and are now peeping
as farthest removed from "'the powers that be." into the luncheon-baskets.
After Mrs. Larks and Bobby and Mr. Larks are I should think," said Mrs. Larks, that we
comfortably settled on the front seat, Mrs. Larks have brought forty youngsters in place of six."
remembers that she has forgotten several Ii,; ..... "De little am a-bilin', ma'am," said Jacob.
"Run, Maria, and get that pickled pork. 0, "Beautifully! Now forbreakfast!"
yes, and the hard crackers; and, dear me, Hugh Her -...:..- .!,,, assistants would have had every-
jump out and get that little box of medicines on thing out of the wagon if she had not stopped
the parlor-table ; and, Maria, I 've forgotten that them. Bobby came up from the creek, calling:
basket of tomatoes the man brought last night." Mamma, there is many little fishes down there,
Well, my dear, is there anything else you and they can hop on their little legs. I did catch
could forget. The number of things the female a fish for you, mamma."
mind is capable of forgetting 1 Now, shall we go? Then he opened his little hand, and a baby frog
-all right !-get up, Jack !" hopped out of it. This was "nuts" to the boys,
Mr. Larks jerks his rein and chirrups, but the and they rolled on the grass and laughed until
horses back and halt. they were tired.
H'm!" said Mrs. Larks. "A female would And what a jolly breakfast that was! What a
never forget to untie the horses !" delectable fragrance rose from those coffee-cups,
What! cried Mr. Larks, jumping out in con- what a keen appetite everybody had, and what
fusion. "I believe I did forget that." rollicking good humor shone in every face !







A MISSISSIPPI CHOWDER.


I think," said Mr. Larks, as he helped them
all round for the third time, "that I never cut a
whiter loaf, or a pinker, tenderer ham."
Jacob beamed with satisfaction, as he sat with
his back against a tree, his oft-replenished plate
before him.
Come, boys, if you are ready, let us take the


:. .-
S : ,' .- -'-, ; *
I

,- .- -- -











CATCHING THE SALMON. (SEE PAGE 639-)

seine and go up the creek and get some min-
nows."
Jenny wanted to go, too, but Dum and Dee were
not adventurous, and preferred to stay and help
aunty," the merriest and busiest little maids in the
world.
Missus," said Jacob, if ye got any scraps to
throw out, give 'em to my old boss, will ye?"
Will she eat scraps?"
Jist try her once't. You Jane, come heah i
Jane came up knowingly, ate with a good relish,
and nickered for more.
Poor old horse, she must be hungry. Jacob,
has she had any grain?"


No'm, but a boy up to your house gimme a
right smart chunk o' hay for 'er."
And you gave her no grain? "
No 'm, I would n't dare to," said Jacob, with
his eyes very big and solemn. "Spile her, shor,
ma'am. She would n't never eat no scraps if ye
give her grain."
Now, Jacob, listen to me. Jane is going
to have grain three times a day on this trip;
give her a measure of oats now."
I 'm bound to mind ye, missus; but she'll
be that sassy the' '11 be no livin' with her !"
The poor hungry horse thrust her nose
greedily into the measure.
See how she likes it! cried Mrs. Larks.
'Course, ma'am, that's jist chicken to her.
But pore folkses' losses can't be so fearful pa'-
tic'lar 'bout what dey eats. It 's like a pore
darkey spectin' fur to have spring chicken de
hull year round, and, consequentially, he can't
git it. And he wont wait long. He 'll done
cope down to pone and bacon powerful' quick!"
"Jacob," answered Mrs. Larks, seriously,
"what you say is true. But you and Jane shall
both have spring chicken on this trip."
"'Bleeged to ye, ma'am. Jane aint too back-
'ard to eat, nather 'm I. And I better be
hitchin' up. I 'll jist back round so we kin
h'ist in them things."
In five minutes they all were upon the road
again, with Jacob following slowly.
Often one, two, and sometimes three rows
of islands extend along the banks of the
Mississippi for miles. The streams running
between the islands and the shore, like little
rivers, are called sloughs, though the name
belies them, for they are often deep and clear,
and game fish abound in them. Pale green
willows edge the shores, and droop over the
water. Trumpet-vine and wild grapes grow
in rank luxuriance. Great elms bow to each
other from island to island, and reach their
delicate draped arms across the streams. Where
the woods are darkest, and the water deepest, the
wagon stops. The bluff is cleft by a little ravine;
on one side a perpendicular wall of rock, with a
little stream at the base; on the other a green
slope, where the old log-hut stands in the sun-
shine.
Now, hurry up, boys, if you want any fish for
dinner," said Mr. Larks.
Only boys can be as busy as those boys were,
unhitching the horses, and getting out lines and
bait.
Lucky we got those minnows, father; but, girls,
you may run away with mother, for you '11 talk and
scare the fish," said Hugh.







A MISSISSIPPI CHOWDER.


No, we wont. Can't we fish, father? "
Yes, my lassie, come. I '11 bait your hook."
Jenny watched him catch the little silvery min-
now in the bucket, but as he put it on the hook,
she gave a little sobbing sigh and turned away.
0 what a fisher you are !" said Frank. How
can you fish if you can't see a hook baited?"
Now, boys," said Mr. Larks, "you leave these


An hour goes by. Mr. Larks catches a couple
of striped bass, and Frank a croppie, but Ralph
and Hugh have not caught a single fish, and are
greatly mortified. They determine to try their
luck farther off, and wander away out of sight.
They stop where the slough narrows and an old
tree bends low and casts a deep shadow over the
water. Hugh takes a larger hook, puts on his big-


L


7
J4 i







MOO


i6-L--- --
girls alone, or I '11 duck you. When you are as
old as I am you will like tender-hearted girls a
good deal better than hard-hearted ones."
The other little girls take lines also; but the
mosquitoes bite Dee, and the mosquitoes bite Dum,
and soon they lay their poles down and quietly slip
away to aunty," and enjoy themselves sweeping
out the old house, and trot about gathering flowers.
Jenny holds out bravely. Suddenly her cork goes
bob, bob, bobbing out of sight.
"Steady, Jen, steady !"
A wild, uncertain jerk, and the first catch lies
floundering in the grass.
A black bass Hurrah for girls! said Mr.
Larks.
The boys hear the shout, but don't answer.
Their masculine hearts are consumed with envy.
"Father," said Jenny, saucily, I guess I wont
fish any more. I'11 go, and give the boys a chance."


jerk,-jcrk,-away goes tI line. His rod bends
violently.
"Hold on, Hugh, hold on! He's a whopper.
I saw him !" cries Ralph, sinking on his knees in
a perfect frenzy of excitement.
The great fish is thrashing the water back and
forth.
Give him his head !" directed Ralph; "give
him his head till he gets tired."
A few moments of breathless, eager anxiety, and
they put their young wits to work to capture the prize.
He 's growing tired now. You stand farther
down and I '11 coax him up, and you grab him."
It is near the shore. Risking all, Hugh gives a
jerk, but the fish is too heavy for his pole; still
Ralph catches the line and drags the fish ashore;
but with a great flounder it tears itself loose,-
another and it will be back in the water. Can
Hugh bear to lose it? No! He flings himself
upon the fish and grovels in the wet sand. How it


b.





L4* '


[AUGUST,







WHAT WAS IT?


fights and struggles! It is a game fish, but it is a
game boy As fast as it wriggles out, Hugh wrig-
gles down over it. His legs are in the water, sand
is in his mouth, but he does not let go. Ralph is
dodging around, wild to help.
Double the line,-make a noose,-here, slip it
under his gills."
The string tightens instantly, and they haul the
prize safely up.
Away they start, dragging the fish, shouting
wildly. All rush to meet them.
Jeminently cried Mr. Larks; a ten-pound
salmon, or it may be twelve. Where did you get
him ? How did you land him?"
A loud and excited account of their exploit was
received with great applause. The boys were
soaked with mud and water. Their clothes were
torn, their hands were bleeding, their faces were
daubed with mud and sand. But pride and satis-
faction shone in their countenances. They felt
themselves to be heroes, and were so regarded by
their admiring friends.
"Now, wont we have a chowder!" said Mrs.
Larks. But every one must help. Boys, go up to
the house, and on the rafters you will find the old
clothes you laughed at me for bringing." They
went to work with right good will.
Jenny split the hard crackers and buttered them,
Mr. Larks weepingly sliced the onion, Dum and
Dee laid the cloth and set the table. Frank
meekly brought sticks for the fire,-he had n't
caught a big fish, poor boy! Mrs. Larks peeled
the tomatoes, and cut thin slices of pork, while to
Hugh and Ralph belonged the honor of superin-
tending Jacob in preparing the great fish for the
pot. Everything is ready, in go the layers, while
they all stand around and watch the process with
absorbed attention. Pork, fish, onion, tomato,


639


pork, fish, etc., etc., until the kettle is full; then
the crackers on top.
Now, boys, fill up with water,-not too full,-
put on the cover, draw up the coals, so and we
have nothing to do but-wait !"
The boys rolled on the grass and groaned with
hunger. Mrs. Larks and the little girls sat on one
of the blankets spread out on the ground. Mr.
Larks lay on another, with his head resting luxu-
riously on a fat bolster.
Was that good straw you got for us to sleep
on, Jacob?" asked Mr. Larks.
Jist as clean as a whistle, sir."
Now Mrs. Larks got up and took the cover off
the pot, and looked and tasted.
That has a powerful' nourishin' smell," said Jacob.
"And it is done," said Mrs. Larks.
She filled the plates as they all gathered around
the cloth spread on the grass.
Mr. Larks tasted.
Now, I call that a good chowder."
He tasted again.
I call it a first-rate chowder, a tip-top chowder.
Ladies and gentlemen, hurrah for the first cook
and the first lady in the land "
They all waved their spoons and responded lust-
ily, and then fell to upon the savory feast.
The sun had set when dinner was over, and they
piled the logs high till the blaze leaped up cheerily,
and then they sat around the fire and told stories
of a good Indian, a cunning bear, and a brave stag
that swam the Mississippi. Then the moon came
sailing swiftly up through the dark trees, and they
were tired. Each took a blanket and all went to
the old log-house and lay down on the straw, piled
deep and soft over the floor. They heard the faint,
lonely cries of a bird, but the murmur of the great
river and of the woods hushed them to sleep.


WHAT WAS IT?

I WATCHED a butterfly on the wing;
I saw him alight on a sunny spray.
His pinions quivered;
The blossoms shivered;
I know he whispered some startling thing.
But why so bold,
Or what he told,
While poising there on the sunny spray,
I 've never learned to this blessed day.


1879.-







640


ONE morning, a little bird flew dowi
clouds. He stopped to rest on the ti
poplar-tree in a grove where there was n
poplars. All the leaves of the trees tu
white faces up to the sun; and the s
down and made them shine till the
laughed to see. He may have been tr
voice were in tune for a song; but the
pled out of his mouth exactly like a bird
He cocked his head at the shining
bobbed them many a gallant bow; and
his pretty feathers for them to look at.
sang them a song,-such a song as th
had a chance to hear,-for, though n
passed that way from the clouds and st(
for rest and refreshment, paying for the
and the insects they ate, in singing, fe%
carried in their beaks such bonny songs
The poplar leaves courtesied in the 1
twinkled in the sunshine, and did thi


. i_,- _


.~- ..









'- '-
.: .-

, -- -
.4 .- .. '



.'{ :,+" I: ':--'






"SHE COULD RUN AWAY, TOO."

charm him into staying; but he wai
down and say good-morning to the gras
flowers, and the blue water that made s
pictures of the sky where he had beei
he had songs that he must carry to som
So he left the poplar leaves; but w
went that morning there was something


n from the It seemed as if all the world were turning up its
p-top of a face to be noticed by the sun. God had made a
nothing but beautiful morning, and wherever the little bird
rned their went he sang to the morning.
sun looked He perched on the flowers that were not too frail
little bird to bear him, and he lingered long in the rose and
ying if his lilac and snow-ball bushes. He skipped on the
notes rip- pickets of the fences, singing to them all. He was
laugh, very friendly with the poor little butterflies that
leaves; he could never hope to reach the clouds, nor the trees,
he spread even, on their tiny, weak wings. And he chirped
Then he kindly to the crawling things.
ey seldom One of them was a fat, black ant, a bite not to
aany birds be despised for a bird's breakfast: but he did not
popped over snap it up. One of them was a long, brown worm,
eir lodging that would have made quite a meal by itself. It
v travelers could not have been because he was the early bird
as his. that had breakfasted well on worms already, and it
breeze and must have been because the meanest life seemed
eir best to too precious to take this morning, that he left him
wriggling in the dirt whose grains the sun was
a. turning into sands of gold. Another of them was
S a gorgeous black and yellow caterpillar, too fuzzy
to be very tempting to his bill at any time. And
another of them was a lovely pink and white baby,
working her way on hands and knees through the
long grass, that was going to be shaven close to-
morrow to make a velvet lawn.
They had left Hetty with the baby that morning
when they all went off to town for Spring shop-
S ping; and Hetty was asleep.
She was a drowsy little colored girl who never
succeeded in getting as much sleep as she wanted.
They waked her too early in the morning. They
kept her up too late at night. They would not let
her take long naps in the day-time. Her eyelids
., were always heavy with the sleep she missed, and
her mouth always yawning for it. She almost
dropped asleep upon the kitchen stove if she lin-
gered over it long; and the brightest days were her
most miserable ones. The warmer the sunshine,
the duller and drowsier her brain; and never a
chance to run away to Dream-land for a moment,
for these were the very days when the baby must
nted to go be out for airings from morning till evening.
ses and the Hetty liked the shelter of the house best when
uch pretty the sun shone its brightest; so she would neither
n. Beside, take the baby under a tree in the garden, nor draw
body. her carriage up and down the avenue, where the
wherever he trees locked arms over the path, and made a roof
ig shining, of leaves that only let the sunshine through the


THE BABY'S MORNING.




THE BABY'S MORNING.

BY SARAH E. CHESTER.


[AUGUST,







THE BABY'S MORNING.


cracks. The baby scolded and cried for her car-
riage; but she had no big papa and mamma there




.. ~ *" ,



T .
.,,

I ,- i




.., 4, %.' j^



THROUGH THE CLOVER-TOPS.
to take her part, and the cook was down the alley
with her friend the milkman.
So Hetty gathered toys together in the back par-
lor, made the room cool and dark-almost as nice as
night itself,-and called the babyto come and play.
She stretched herself comfortably upon the car-
pet, and built a grand block tower for the baby.
She was quite a long time making it tall and firm;
but the baby knew that only one touch of her little
finger would tumble it over into common blocks in
a. second; and she loved to see a tall tower go
tumbling into blocks at her touch. But
she did not toddle across the room to
touch it, for she was busy crying for
the morning God had made for her-
and what were block towers that she
should notice them when her heart t
was set on sunshine and flowers and
the music of the birds ?
Then Hetty built a long, long row
of tents, and the baby knew she had
only to blow a little breath for them
all to go tipping over, one upon the
other, till there should be nothing
left but a pack of common cards
strewn along the carpet. She loved
to see the tents, that it took Hetty
so much time to build, spoiled in a
single second by only the breath of
her lips. But the voices of the birds,
and the smell of flowers blown in at
the windows, were calling her to come
out to the morning; and her tears
fell because she could not hinder them; and she
scolded cruel Hetty, who lay between her and the
open door, and paid less and less attention to her.


641


But by and by when Hetty's head was very still
upon her arm, and she called no longer, the baby
grew tired of the sound of her own crying and
ran across the room to make Hetty speak to
her again. She climbed on her back and poked
at her closed eyes. She tickled her neck and
pulled her little tight black curls. She blew
the tents over, and knocked the tower down
with a great crash,-and because that did not
move her, she knew it was really true that
Hetty had run away to Dream-land, and that
now there was no one to watch her; and that
she could run away, too-just wherever she
Pleased.
She saw the open door; she heard the birds
calling, and smelt the garden flowers; and
when she got outside she saw the little leaves
- on the trees bowing to her politely, as they
always did if she looked up.
She loved the morning that seemed to love
her so much, and she ran out into it-going
down the steps, in her hurry, with now and then a
slide she had not planned for, and now and then a
bump she had not planned for, either.
But the grass was soft and cool, and it comforted
all her bruises when she once got rolling and creep-
ing and tumbling about in it. And there were
golden buttercups to pick; and there were clover
tops to eat,-white when one grew tired of red, and
red when one grew tired of white; and there were
butterflies to watch and try to follow, and to see go
flying, like wee birds, away above the clover when







-' -* r


., I -I' 9

S ' 1


.II


9'r


"RISING ON SLOW WINGS ABOVE THE GRASS."
little hands came near. There were green and
brown creatures of every size and shape hopping
from clover to clover and from grass to grass.


...







THE BABY'S MORNING.


There were little threads of shining light comi
down from the sky, and touching here a clover t
and here a buttercup and here a daisy. They I
not run away from her when she stole near
catch them, but nestled in her fingers-and
when she opened her fingers to look at them
they were never to be seen-which was a great
and a sad puzzle to her.
There were flowers, there were butterflies,
there were shining beetles; there were beaded
and feathered grasses; there were the sun-
beams-but, oh, above them all there were the
birds that made the music for her!
For, in her little, ignorant mind (which had
no teacher but love, and learned no lesson but
that she was queen of all hearts-whether they
beat in the bosoms of the flowers that grew,
or in the breasts of the birds that journeyed
back and forth from earth to heaven, or in the
breasts of the people who lived always down
upon the earth) she believed that every beau-
tiful thing was beautiful just for her. The
flowers blossomed, the grass grew green and
tall, the butterflies were red and yellow,
knew how to flutter their pretty wings and
away, the sunbeams glittered, and the birds se
their songs, just for her.
This was her morning, her very own, and
growing things and the live things knew it.
was the queen of the morning, and her crown i
the golden top of her head that rose up out of
grass, and was all that any one could see of her
she sat deep in it. But what was it that by and
made the flowers she had held so fast slip out
her fingers; that made her forget there w
butterflies and beetles to chase ; that lifted
eyes far above the tallest grasses, and made
listen and listen as if there were no longer a
thing to see ? The buttercups were as yell
as ever, the sunbeams as golden, the grass
green; but her heart was full of music-
music more wonderful than she had ever he;
before.
What was it? Only the song of a bird! 0
a bird's voice, rising so high, with notes wild a
merry that made her wild and merry, too, till
clapped her hands and shouted and laughed; f
ing so low that its sadness made her sigh, and
little heart-which had never known sorrow of
own-knew the sorrow of the bird's song. 0
a bird; and only that little brown bird on
lowest branch of the maple-tree.
Yes; she could see the music come rising
falling, laughing and sighing, out of his mou
And she knew from the way he kept his eyes
hers, singing to her alone, that of all the birds
was her very own,-sent down to carry the 1


songs they had in the clouds to the little queen of
the morning.
He saw her face turned up to the sun, like all
the other lovely things he had met on his journey-
ing; and he thought it the loveliest thing of all.


/




K '''

*,,


"SHE LIFTED HIM GENTLY."
But he did not dare venture nearer than that low-
est branch of the maple-tree; although there were
little hands beckoning him, and cooing tones coax-
ing him and grand preparations going on for his
reception.
Many a time the baby spread her apron smooth
over her knees; many a nest of buttercups and
daisies she made for him in her lap; and whenever
he stopped to rest between his songs she beckoned
him down, calling:
"Tome birdy ; tome pitty birdy, tome to baby !"
She was sure he loved her, and she did not know
why he refused to come, unless he had naughty
wings that would not bring him. So by and by
she began to coax the wings:
Tome itty wings, bring birdy down to me!"
Shall I ketch 'im for you, baby? said a voice
through the pickets, and there stood Freddy
Doane on the other side of the fence that separated
his yard from the baby's-and in one hand he held
a fish-pole and in the other a salt-cellar.
I heard you frew the window," said Freddy.
"You can ketch him if you put salt on his
tail."
The baby watched Freddy lay the grains on the
end of the pole and lift it up very carefully. But
it would not reach half as far as the lowest branch
of the maple-tree; and the bird's voice rang out in
merry peals that seemed to be laughing hard at
foolish Freddy.
I 'd chase him if I had wings," said Freddy.
"Tome, itty wings!" said the baby.
Come on down here," said Freddy, throwing
a stone he had in his hand.


642


[AUGUST,


1 i',







THE BABY'S MORNING.


He was never more surprised than when he saw
it strike the wing he had aimed for, and never
more frightened than when the merry song stopped
suddenly, and two little feet lost their hold of the
twig where they had clung, and a little wounded
bird, with blood-stains on its breast, came fluttering,
fluttering down.
He ran and hid from the cruel wrong he had not
meant to do; but the baby did not run away. She
was n't surprised, nor frightened. She only thought
that the wings were tired of refusing her and that
at last her bird was coming home to his nest in
her apron.
She got it all ready for him once more; but he
dropped into the deep grass under the maple-tree,
and she was grieved because she thought she had
lost him. But in a moment he came rising on
slow wings above the grass, and she saw that he
was only playing hide-and-seek with her.
So she laughed and shouted I spy," and
played the game as long as he liked it; blinding
her eyes when he dropped under the grass to hide,
and calling I spy," whenever he came struggling
up again.
But all the while she toddled nearer and nearer
him, until she could have laid her hand on him if
he had not hopped away. He wanted to play
" tag" then, she saw; so she followed him wher-
ever he led, touching him very gently with the tip
of her finger once in a while, to show that she had
caught him.
And at last the games were all over. He was
ready for his nest. He stood quite still, panting







.- : -


643


and trembling under the touch of the little finger
that stroked him lovingly.
"Toming home now, birdy ?" said the baby,
as once more she built him a nest of flowers in her
lap.
She lifted him gently and laid him in; and she
wondered what made his body throb so very, very
hard and fast; and she wondered where he got
those pretty red spots on his breast; and she
wondered why he only opened his bill and chirped,
chirped pitifully, when she begged him to sing her
one of his beautiful songs.
The song he could not sing was in his eyes; and
it was so very sad, that when he looked at the baby
her own eyes dropped tears.
But when he hid his head under his wing, and
lay a quiet little ball of feathers in the midst of the
flowers, her heart was comforted; for she knew he
had gone to sleep, and would sleep all weariness
and sadness away.
She was so afraid of waking him that she would
not move a finger; and by and by her stillness
brought drowsiness, and her head drooped till it
found a resting-place; and she in her nest of
flowers, he in his, slept soundly, while all the
world was wide awake and gay.
The baby's mamma woke her when she found
her, but no one could wake the little bird; and
yet the baby will never believe that she has heard
the last of his wonderful music.
She thinks he has gone back to the clouds,
where she some day shall follow, and where he
will sing to her again on many a summer morning..




i
-2". '. Ii .,






[AUGUST,


THE AQUARIUM AT BRIGHTON.



THE AQUARIUM AT BRIGHTON.

BY EMMA D. SOUTHWICK.


S AM sure all young
I- .--,J :'K people enjoy visiting
--an aquarium. Here,
-- in the United States,
There are one or two
good aquaria, yet
none of them can
compare with some
of those in Europe.
At Brighton, on the
south coast of Eng-
land, is an aquarium,
More splendid and
interesting than any
i_ other in the world.
o We take the cars
--- from London, and
ride for about two
CORRIDOR o THE BRIGuTON hours through the
AQUARIUM. beautiful country,
past farms and pretty villages with their red-tiled
roofs, and gray old churches, and then we be-
gin to pass the curious chalk hills, green and
grassy on top, and white where the railroad cuts
through them. Then comes a long, dark tun-
nel, and, as soon as it is passed, the train stops
at the top of a high hill, where we can look down
over the city to the sea beyond. A short ride down
the steep streets, and then we come out on a broad
street lined with hotels and dwelling-houses and
splendid shops, all facing the open sea. We cross
the road, and there are the fishing-boats and the
curious houses on wheels, called "bathing ma-
chines." There are two long piers stretching out
into the water, and there are thousands of people
walking on the broad side-walk above the beach,
or strolling on the sand and listening to the band
playing on the pier. Here it is we find the famous
aquarium. It is not a house, as in Berlin, or a
great wooden barn, as at New York, but is really
a great cellar below the level of the street. In the
middle of the street is a handsome gate-way, and
some broad steps leading down under ground. We
pay our shilling at the gate, and pass down the
steps under a wooden canopy, and between rows
of plants all in bloom, and come to the Grand
Pavilion or entrance hall.
This hall is built in the style of a Pompeiian
house, the walls and columns of colored brick and
terra cotta, and the roof of iron and glass. Here
are books and papers and comfortable seats, and


we can sit and read, or look at the glass tanks
placed on pedestals round the room. Pretty and
inviting as the room is, it is only the entrance to
the long halls where the great tanks may be seen.
A door on the right has an inviting sign: "To
THE SEA LIoNs." Hark! Is that the bark of a
dog? It is Mr. Sea Lion calling for his dinner.
We come to what seems like a rocky cave, with a
great tank of water in the middle, and there on the
bank sits a strange black monster. With the
head of a dog and the flippers of a seal, and a
most ungainly body, the big fellow sits on the wet
stones watching a man with a basket of fish. The
man holds up a fish, and Mr. Sea Lion takes it
down at one swallow, and then barks loudly for
more. Hullo What 's that? The water ripples,
and a small, black head comes up. It is Master
Baby Sea Lion, a little fellow, and as eager for his
dinner as his venerable papa. He scrambles awk-
i ..11, out of the water, and follows the man about
for a fish.
Really we must move on, for there are other won-
ders to be seen. In another tank near by is still
another sea-lion playing in the water, actually toss-
ing a stick in the air, and catching it in his mouth
like a boy playing ball. We look at the queer
fellow, at his strange fun, and then go back to the
entrance hall. Then, to the left, we enter the long
corridors where the tanks may be seen. It is quite
dark, for the place is under ground, and the
only entrance for the light is through the tanks.
We look through the glass walls on either side and
see the fishes swimming in the full light. This
arrangement is very convenient, as it enables us to
see quite to the bottom of the green water; and
we can look up and see the fish swimming over-
head. Here is a large tank full of sea-water, and
looking like a vast rocky cave under water. In it
are great skates, strange flat fish lying on the
pebbly bottom, or slowly roaming about among the
stones. Great cod-fish sail past, and seem to stare
through the glass, and wonder what we think of
them.
Oh Look up there. Is n't that very queer?
It 's a duck. His little red legs hang down
under the water and keep paddling quickly as
Master Duck floats about on the surface. See him
now He 's looking down under water. A black
head appears, and a pair of bright eyes look about
on the fishes and oysters scattered over the bottom.
Splash and Master Guillemot (or Sea Diver)







THE AQUARIUM AT BRIGHTON.


plunges under the water, and flies swiftly about
among the fishes, while a trail of silvery bubbles
stretches out behind him. Down he dives to
the bottom, giving a big skate a friendly poke
with his bill. Round and round he flies, the lazy
cod-fish gliding out of his way, and then up he goes
and sits lightly on the top of the water, while his
little legs paddle merrily, as if he had enjoyed his
swim beneath.
Here is a tank full. of swift mackerel darting
about and showing their sides, glistening with blue
and silver. In another tank is a company of con-


and all the while hear the music. Beyond are
more tanks, on either side of the dark vaulted gal-
leries, and in each is a different kind of fish;
sharks, sturgeons, and many others. Here, in a
room kept quite warm, are smaller tanks full of
strange fish from the tropics, where the hot sun
makes it summer all the year round. Here are
beautiful sponges, and those strangest of strange
fish, the sea-horses. They twist their curly tails
round a bit of stick, and then sway to and fro in
the water as if they felt quite at home.
How can we tell the tale of these hundreds of


BEFORE THE TANKS.


ger eels, strange, restless fellows, swimming around
and around, as if they were trying to find the way
out of their prison. Then here are herring and
smelts and perch, and all manner of sea-fish, some
familiar enough to American eyes, and others of
strange shapes and stranger names, some good to
eat, and some no one would think of touching.
Then we come to a handsome conservatory with
walls of red rocks and a roof of glass. Here the
band plays, and we may sit down and look at the
masses of flowers and ferns, or watch a company of
seals swimming round and round in a little pond,


fishes? A mere list of them all would fill a small
book and would make very dull reading. We
could walk on and on for hours through the cool,
dark corridors, and peer through the glass, and yet
not see all the fishy wonders. Then we can go
upstairs and come out on the flat roof of the
aquarium. Here we find seats and arbors and
beautiful flower-beds, and we sit a while and watch
the carriages pass in endless procession, or look
down on the beach where the great rollers are
tumbling in, or look off over the wide, wide sea, so
blue and beautiful. We may even have lunch






[AUGUST,


A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


here and listen to the band, drink our coffee, and
hear the roll of the surf at the same time.
I wonder if the fishes swimming in their tanks
below know that the salt waves of their native
home roll so nearly over their heads ? Perhaps they
can hear the boom of the surf, or the scream of the
shingle as the waves run back? It must make
them very home-sick.
Far away to the east we can see the white chalk
cliffs and the grassy downs. Off on the horizon,
ships and steamers creep along on their way to
London, and nearer are the queer fishing-boats,
with their red sails, and pretty pleasure-boats full
of merry parties. We can hear the laughter of the
children bathing in the surf; and all this, with the
white houses of the town close behind us among
the trees of the Park, so that it is really town and
sea-side combined in the most charming manner.
By night, the aquarium is brilliantly lighted,
without and within, and thousands of people stroll
through the long, vaulted corridors, or sit in the


conservatory and hear the music, or drink their
coffee up here in the open air, with the moon sil-
vering the crests of the breakers, and long lines of
colored lamps shining on the piers and along the
streets. There is a band on each pier, and the
ringing call of the bugles floats over the water and
mingles with the roll of the countless carriages,
the endless boom of the great and wide sea, and
the fun and laughter of the happy people.
Many poor families in London save up their pen-
:nies till they can buy excursion tickets to Brighton,
and down they come by thousands and thousands to
spend the day on the beaches, to see the aquarium,
and sit here on the flat roof and smell the sweet
breath of the salt sea, watch the gulls wheel about
overhead, and see and hear all the charming sights
and sounds of this most charming place. Many a
child has seen an aquarium, and knows something
of the finny prisoners in the tanks, yet, of all
aquaria, this at Brighton is certainly the best and
most delightful.


A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.

BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.


CHAPTER XIX.
THE LIFE-RAFT.
WHEN we came out on deck we saw, in a
moment, that the fire was thought to be a serious
affair. Men were actually at work at the boats,
which hung from their davits on each side of
the deck, not far from the stern. They were get-
ting them ready to be lowered. I must confess
that this seemed frightful to me. Was there really
need of it ?
I left our party and ran forward for a moment
to see, for myself, how matters were going. Peo-
ple were hard at work. I could hear the pumps
going, and there was a great deal of smoke, which
was driven back by the wind. When I reached
the pilot-house and looked down on the hatchway,
I saw, not only smoke coming up, but every now
and then a tongue of flame. The hatch was burn-
ing away at the edges. There must be a great
fire under it, I thought.
Just then the captain came rushing up from
below. I caught hold of him.
"Is there danger?" I said. -"What's to be
done ?"
He stopped for a moment.
"We must all save ourselves," he said, hur-


riedly. "I am going to the passengers. We
can't save the ship. She's all afire below." And
then he ran on.
When I got back to our group, I told them what
the captain had said, and we all instantly moved
toward the boat nearest to us. Rectus told me to
put on my life-preserver, and he helped me fasten
it. I had forgotten that I had it under my arm.
Most of the passengers were at our boat, but the
captain took some of them over to the other side
of the deck.
When our boat was ready there was a great
scramble and rush for it. Most of the ladies were
to get into this boat, and some of the officers held
back the men who were crowding forward. Among
the others held back were Rectus and I, and as
Corny was between us she was pushed back, too.
I do not know how the boat got to the water, nor
when she started down. The vessel pitched and
tossed; we could not see well, for the smoke came
in thick puffs over us, and I did not know that the
boat was really afloat until a wave lifted it up by
the side of the vessel where we stood, and I heard
Mr. Chipperton call for Corny. I could see him
in the stern of the boat, which was full of people.
Here she is i" I yelled.


646







A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


Here I am, father cried Corny, and she ran
from us to the railing.
"Lower her down," said Mr. Chipperton, from
below. He did not seem flurried at all, but I saw
that no time was to be lost, for a man was trying to
cut or untie a rope which still held the boat to the
steamer. Then she would be off. There was a
light line on the deck near me-I had caught my
foot in it, a minute before. It was strong enough
to hold Corny. I got hold of one end of it and
tied it around her, under her arms. She had a
great shawl, as well as a life-preserver, tied around
her and looked dreadfully bundled up.
She did not say a word, but let Rectus and me do
as we chose, and we got her over the railing in no
time. I braced myself against the seat that ran
around the deck and lowered. Rectus leaned over
and directed, holding on to the line as well. I felt
strong enough to hold two of her, with the rope
running over the rail. I let her go down pretty
fast, for I was afraid the boat would be off; but
directly Rectus called to me to stop.
The boat is n't under her," he cried. They
've pushed off. Haul up a little A wave nearly
took her just then "
With that, we hauled her up a little, and almost
at the same moment I saw the boat rising on a
wave. By that time, it was an oar's length from
the ship.
"They say they can't pull back," shouted Mr.
Chipperton. Don't let her down any further "
"All right!" I roared back at him. "We '11
bring her in another boat," and I began to pull up
with all my might.
Rectus took hold of the rope with me and we
soon had Corny on deck. She ran to the stern
and held out her arms to the boat.
Oh, father she cried. Wait for me "
I saw Mr. Chipperton violently addressing the
men in the boat, but they had put out their oars
and were beginning to pull away. I knew they
would not come back, especially as they knew, of
course, that there were other boats on board.
Then Mr. Chipperton stood up again, put his
hands to his mouth and shouted back to us:
Bring her-right after us. If we get-parted
-meet-at Savannah "
He was certainly one of the coolest men in the
world. To think-at such a time-of appointing
a place to meet And yet it was a good idea. I
believe he expected the men in his boat to row
directly to the Florida coast where they would find
quick dispatch to Savannah.
Poor Corny was disconsolate and cried bitterly.
I think I heard her mother call back to her, but I
am not sure about it. There was so much to see
and hear. And yet I had been so busy with what


I had had to do that I had seen comparatively
little of what was going on around me.
One thing, however, I had noticed, and it im-
pressed me deeply even at the time. There was
none of the wailing and screaming and praying
that I had supposed was always to be seen and
heard at such dreadful times as this. People
seemed to know that there were certain things that
they had to do if they wanted to save themselves,
and they went right to work and did them. And
the principal thing was to get off that ship without
any loss of time. Of course, it was not pleasant
to be in a small boat pitching about on those great
waves, but almost anywhere was a better place
than a ship on fire. I heard a lady scream once
or twice, but I don't think there was much of that
sort of thing. However, there might have been
more of it than I thought. I was driving away
at my own business.
The moment I heard the last word from Mr.
Chipperton I rushed to the other side of the deck,
dragging Corny along with me. But the boat was
gone from there.
I could see them pulling away some distance
from the ship. It was easy to see things now, for
the fire was blazing up in front. I think the vessel
had been put around, for she rolled a good deal
and the smoke was not coming back over us.
I untied the line from Corny, and stood for a
moment looking about me. There seemed to be
no one aft but us three. We had missed both
boats. Mr. Chipperton had helped his wife into
the boat and had expected to turn round and take
Corny. No doubt, he had told the men to be per-
fectly cool and not to hurry. And while we were
shouting to him and lowering Corny the other boat
had put off.
There was a little crowd of men amidships, hard
at work at something. We ran there. They were
launching the life-raft. The captain was among
them.
Are there no more boats ?" I shouted.
He turned his head.
"What! A girl left?" he cried. "No. The
fire has cut off the other boats. We must all get
on the raft. Stand by with the girl, and I '11 see
you safe."
The life-raft was a big affair that Rectus and I
had often examined. It had two long, air-tight
cylinders, of iron, I suppose, kept apart by a wide
frame-work. On this frame-work, between the
cylinders, canvas was stretched, and on this the
passengers were to sit. Of course, it would be im-
possible to sink a thing like this.
In a very short time the raft was lifted to the side
of the vessel and pushed overboard. It was bound
to come right side up. And as soon as it was


1879.]






[AUGUST,


A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


afloat the men began to drop down on it. The
captain had hold of a line that was fastened to it,
and I think one of the mates had another line.
"Get down Get down!"
cried the captain to us.
I told Rectus to jump first, as
the vessel rolled that way, and
he landed all right, and stood up
as well as he could to catch
Corny. Over she went at the .
next roll with a good send from
me, and I came right after her.
I heard the captain shout:
"All hands aboard the raft!"
and then, in a minute, he jumped
himself. Some of the men i .
pushed her off with a pole. It "
was almost like floating right on
the surface of the water, but I ,,,
felt it was perfectly safe. Nothing .,
could make those great cylin- ,- i
ders sink. We floated away
from the ship, and we were all -' ''
glad enough of it, for the air was .
getting hot. The whole front
part of the vessel was blazing
away like a house on fire. I
don't remember whether the en-
gines were still working or not,
but at any rate we drifted astern
and were soon at quite a little
distance from the steamer.
It was safe enough, perhaps, A LAST VIEW
on the raft, but it was not in the
least comfortable. We were all crowded together,
crouching on the canvas, and the water just
swashed about us as if we were floating boards.
We went up and down on the waves with a motion
that would n't have been so bad had we not
thought we mightbe shuffled off if abig wave turned
us over a little too much. But there were lots of
things to hold on to, and we all stuck close to-
gether. We three were in the middle. The captain
told us to get there. There is no way of telling
how glad I was that the captain was with us. I
was well satisfied anyway to be with the party on
the raft. I might have liked it better in a boat,
but I think that most of the men in the boats were
waiters, or stewards, or passengers-fellows who
were in a hurry to get off. The officers and sailors
who remained behind to do their best for the ship
and the passengers, were the men on the raft; and
these I felt we could trust. I think there were ten
of them, besides the captain, making fourteen of us
in all.
There we all sat, while the ship blazed and
crackled away, before us. She drifted faster than


we did, and so got farther and farther away from us.
The fire lighted up the sea for a good distance and
every time we rose on the top of a wave some of us
looked about to see if we could
see anything of the other boats.
But we saw nothing of them.
Once I caught sight of a black
spot on a high wave at quite a
distance, which I thought might
be a boat, but no one else saw
it, and it was gone in an instant.
The captain said it made no real
difference to us whether we saw
the other boats or not; they
could not help us. All the help
we had to expect was from some
passing ship which might see us,
and pick us up. He was very
encouraging, though, about this,
for he said we were right in the
; track of vessels bound North,
which all sought the Gulf
S Stream; and, besides, a burn-
ing ship at night would attract
Sthe attention of vessels at a great
distance, and some of them would
,' be sure to make for us.
We '11 see a sail in the morn-
ing," said he; "make up your
minds to that. All we 've got
to do is to stick together on the
S raft, and we 're almost sure to be
OF RECTUS'S HAT. picked up."
I think he said things like
this to give courage to us three, but I don't believe
we needed it, particularly. Rectus was very quiet,
but I think that if he could have kept himself dry
he would have been pretty well satisfied to float
until daylight, for he had full faith in the captain,
and was sure we should be picked up. I was pretty
much of the same mind, but poor Corny was in a
sad way. It was no comfort to her to tell her that
we should be picked up, unless she could be assured
that the same ship would pick up her father and
mother. But we could say nothing positive about
this, of course, i1...1 .1.-! we did all that we could,
in a general way, to make her feel that everything
would turn out all right. She sat wrapped up in
her shawl, and seldom said a word. But her eyes
were wandering all over the waves looking for a
boat.
The ship was now quite a long way off, still
burning, and lighting up the tops of the waves and
the sky. Just before day-break her light suddenly
went out.
She's gone down !" said the captain, and then
he said no more for a long time. I felt very sorry








A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


for him. Even if he should be saved, he had lost
his ship,-had seen it burn up and sink before his
eyes. Such a thing must be pretty hard on a cap-
tain. Even I felt as if I had lost a friend. The
old Tigris seemed so well known to us.
It was now more dismal than ever. It was
darker; and although the burning ship could do
us no good, we were sorry to have her leave us.
Nobody said much, but we all began to feel pretty
badly. Morning came slowly, and we were wet
and cold, and getting stiff. Besides, we were all
very thirsty, and I, for one, was hungry; but there
was no good reason for that, for it was not yet
breakfast-time. Fortunately, after a while, Corny
went to sleep. We were very glad of it, though
how she managed to sleep while the raft was rising
and falling and sliding and sloshing from one wave
to another, I can't tell. But she did n't have much
holding on to do. We did that for her.

. ll i i lr '1 .



^'i '" ,' ',, ', ,
:I," ',;,1 ,",, ",


,, 1
... ,.
t'~t,! :lqt tl,,,,.'h ', ,t .,L l~~lll~. .,,[N tl. '


the waves we could see nothing, and no one could
have seen us. It was of no use to put up a signal,
the captain said, until we saw a vessel near enough
to see it.
We waited, and we waited, and waited, until it
was well on in the morning, and still we saw no
other sail. The one we had seen had disappeared
entirely.
We all began to feel miserable now. We were
weak and cold and wretched. There was n't a
thing to eat or drink on the raft. The fire had
given no time to get anything. Some of the men
began to grumble. It would have been better,
they said, to have started off as soon as they found
out the fire, and have had time to put something
to eat and drink on the raft. It was all wasted
time to try to save the ship. It did no good after
all. The captain said nothing to this. He knew
that he had done his duty in trying to put out the
fire, and he just kept his-mouth shut,
ii1 and looked out for a sail. There was
lio';,, ne man with us-a red-faced, yellow-
_- haired man-with a curly beard, and
I ,i' 1' little gold rings in his ears. He looked
'..'' more like a sailor than any other of
.i' the men, and Rectus and I always put
him down for the sailor who had been
longer at sea and knew more about
,.' ships and sailing than any other of
the crew. But this man was the
',!i worst grumbler of the lot now, and
'"!i, we altered our opinion about him.
Corny woke up every now and
,", then, but she soon went to sleep
''1'' again, when she found there was no
''. boat or sail in sight. At least, I
S'' thought she went to sleep, but she
S- "I might have been thinking and crying.
S She was so crouched up that we could
S not see whether she was awake or not.

S'l'' ';, CHAPTER XX.

l',l'I, 'lllTHE RUSSIAN BARK.


.i' '" I '.v .' il 'i.. W E soon began to think the captain
,,' l'' was mistaken in saying there would be

we could n't see very far. Ships may
lt',, ,' 11 I,,11 1,.1 ,, Il i ,,", ii' i lots of s ips com7misg this way. But then

I., ' . , ,.. ...I .I Iiav.,1 have passed within a few m iles of us,
Il ; "l'l'; II !!li ,. .. Iil ;! I ,, without our knowing anything about it.
It was very different from being high
RECTUSS HELPED ME FASTEN THE LIFE-PRESERVER." up on a ship's deck, or in her rigging.
At last daylight came, and then we began to Sometimes, though, we seemed high enough up,
look about in good earnest. We saw a top-sail off when we got on the top of a wave.
on the horizon, but it was too far for our raft to be It was fully noon before we saw another sail.
seen from it, and it might be coming our way or it And when we saw this one for the second or third
might not. When we were down in the trough of time (for we only caught a glimpse of it every now
VOL. VI.-44.







A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


and then), a big man who had been sitting on the
edge of the raft, and i, ,i.lii ever saying a word,
sung out:
I believe that's a Russian bark."
And after he had had two or three more sights
at her he said:
Yes, I know she is."
That's so," said the captain; "and she 's
bearing down on us."
Now, how in the world they knew what sort of
a ship that was, and which way it was sailing, I
could n't tell for the life of me. To me it was a
little squarish spot on the lower edge of the sky,
and I have always thought that I could see well
enough. But these sailors have eyes like spy-
glasses.
Now, then, we were all alive, and began to get
ready to put up a signal. Fortunately, the pole
was on the raft,-I believe the captain had it fas-
tened on, thinking we might want it,-and now all
we had to do was to make a flag. We three got
out our handkerchiefs, which were wet, but white
enough yet, and the captain took out his. We
tied them together by the corners, and made a
long pennant of them. When we tied one end of
this to the pole, it made quite a show. The wind
soon dried it, after the pole was hoisted and held
up, and then our flag fluttered finely.
The sun had now come out quite bright and
warm, which was a good thing for us, for it dried
us off, somewhat, and made us more comfortable.
The wind had also gone down, a good deal. If it
had not been for these two things I don't know
how we could have stood it. But the waves were
still very high.
Every time we saw the ship, she seemed to look
bigger and bigger, and we knew that the captain
was right, and that she was making for us. But
she was a long time coming. Even after she got
so near that we could plainly see her hull and
masts and sails, she did not seem to be sailing
directly toward us. Indeed, sometimes I thought
she did n't notice us. She would go far off one
way, and then off the other way.
"Oh, why don't she come right to us?" cried
Corny, beating her hands on her knees. She
is n't as near now as she was half an hour ago."
This was the first time that Corny had let her-
self out in this way, but I don't wonder she did it.
The captain explained that the ship could n't sail
right to us, because the wind was not in the proper
direction for that. She had to tack. If she had
been a steamer, the case would have been different.
We all sat and waited, and waved our flag.
She came nearer and nearer, and it was soon
plain enough that she saw us. The captain told
us that it was all right now-all we had to do was


to keep up our courage, and we 'd soon be on
board the bark. But when the men who were
holding the pole let it down, he told them to put
it up again. He wanted to make sure they should
see us.
At last, the bark came so near that we could see
the people on board, but still she went past us.
This was the hardest to bear of all, for she seemed
so near. But when she tacked and came back,
she sailed right down to us. We could see her all
the time now, whether we were up or down.
She '11 take us this time," said the captain.
I supposed that when the ship came near us she
would stop and lower a boat, but there seemed to
be no intention of the kind. A group of men
stood in her bow, and I saw that one of them held
a round life-preserver in his hand,-it was one of
the India rubber kind, filled with air, and to it a
line was attached. When the ship was just opposite
to us, this man shouted something which I.did not
hear, and threw the life-preserver. It fell close to
the raft. I thought, indeed, it was coming right
into the midst of us. The red-faced man with the
gold ear-rings was nearest to it. He made a grab
at it, and missed it. On went the ship, and on
went the life-preserver, skipping and dancing over
the waves. They let out lots of line, but still the
life-preserver was towed away.
A regular howl went up from our raft. I thought
some of the men would jump into the sea, and
swim after the ship, which was now rapidly leaving
us. We heard a shout from the vessel, but what
it meant I did not know. On she went, and on,
as if she was never coming back.
She '11 come back," said the captain. She'll
tack again."
But it was hard to believe him. I don't know
whether he believed himself. Corny was wildly
crying now, and Rectus was as white as a sheet.
No one seemed to have any hope or self-control
except the captain. Some of the men looked as if
they did not care whether the ship ever came back
or not.
The sea is too high," said one of them.
She'd swamp a boat, if she 'd put it out."
Just you wait said the captain.
The bark sailed away so far that I shut my eyes.
I could not look after her any more. Then, as we
rose on the top of a wave, I heard a rumble of
words among the men, and I looked out, and saw
she was tacking. Before long, she was sailing
straight back to us, and the most dreadful mo-
ments of my life were ended. I had really not
believed that she would ever return to us.
Again she came plowing along before us, the
same group in her bow; again the life-preserver
was thrown, and this time the captain seized it.


650


[AUGUST,







A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


In a moment, the line was made fast to the raft.
But there was no sudden tug. The men on the
bark knew better than that. They let out some
two or three hundred feet of line and lay to, with
their sails fluttering in the wind.
Then they began to haul us in. I don't remem-
ber much more of what happened just about this
time. It was all a daze of high black bull and
tossing waves, and men overhead, and ropes
coming down, and seeing Corny hauled up into
the air. After a while I was hauled up, and
Rectus went before me. I was told afterward that
some of the stoutest men could scarcely help them-
selves, they were so cramped, and stiff, and had to
be hoisted on board like sheep.
I know that when I put my feet on the deck, my
knees were so stiff that I could not stand. Two
women had Corny between them and were carry-
ing her below. I was so delighted to see that
there were women on board. Rectus and I were
carried below, too, and three or four rough-looking
fellows, who did n't speak a word that we could
understand, set to work at us and took off our
clothes, and rubbed us with warm stuff, and gave
us some hot tea and gruel, and I don't know what
else, and put us into hammocks, and stuffed
blankets around us, and made me feel warmer,
and happier, and more grateful and sleepy than
I thought it was in me to feel. I expect Rectus
felt the same. In about five minutes I was fast
asleep.
I don't know how long it was before I woke up.
When I opened my eyes I just lay and looked
about me. I did not care for times and seasons.
I knew I was all right. I wondered when they
would come around again with gruel. I had an
idea they lived on gruel in that ship, and I remem-
bered that it was very good. After a while a man
did come around, and he looked into my hammock.
I think from his cap that he was an officer,-prob-
ably a doctor. When he saw that I was awake he
said something to me. I had seen some Russian
words in print, and the letters all seemed upside
down, or lying sideways on the page. And that
was about the way he spoke. But he went and got
me a cup of tea, and some soup, and some bread,'
and I understood his food very well.
After a while our captain came around to my
hammock. He looked a great deal better than
when I saw him last, and said he had had a good
sleep. He told me that Corny was all right, and
was sleeping again, and that the mate's wife had
her in charge. Rectus was in a hammock near
me, and I could hear him snore, as if he were per-
fectly happy. The captain said that these Russian
people were just as kind as they could be; that
the master of the bark, who could speak English,


had put his vessel under his-our captain's-com-
mand, and told him to cruise around wherever he
chose in search of the two boats.
And did you find them ?" I asked.
No," said he. We have been on the search
now for twenty-four hours, and can see nothing of
them. But I feel quite sure they have been picked
up. They could row, and they could get further
into the course of vessels than we were. We '11
find them when we get ashore."
The captain was a hopeful man, but I could not
feel as cheerfully as he spoke. All that I could say
was: "Poor Corny! "
He did not answer me, but went away; and
soon, in spite of all my doubts and fears, I fell
asleep.
The next time I woke up, I got out of my ham-
mock and found I was pretty much all right. My
clothes had been dried and ironed, I reckon, and
were lying on a chest all ready for me. While
Rectus and I were dressing, for he got up at the
same time that I did, our captain came to us, and
brought me a little package of greenbacks.
The master of the bark gave me these," said
the captain, and said they were pinned in your
watch-pocket. He has had them dried and pressed
out for you."
There it was, all the money belonging to Rectus
and myself, which, according to old Mr. Colbert's
advice, I had carefully pinned in the watch-pocket
of my trowsers before leaving Nassau. I asked the
captain if we should not pay something for our
accommodations on this vessel, but he said we must
not mention anything of the kind. The people on
the ship would not listen to it. Even our watches
seemed to have suffered no damage from the soak-
ing they had had in our wet clothes.
As soon as we were ready we went up on deck,
and there we saw Corny. She was sitting by her-
self near the stern, and looked like a different kind
of a girl from what she had been two or three days
before. She seemed several years older.
"Do you really think the other boats were
picked up? she said, the moment she saw us.
Poor thing She began to cry as soon as she
began to speak. Of course, we sat down and
talked to her, and said everything we could think
of to reassure her. And in about half an hour she
began to be much more cheerful, and to look as if
the world might have something satisfactory in it
after all.
Our captain and the master of the bark now
came to us. The Russian master was a pleasant
man, and talked pretty good English. I think he
was glad to see us, but what we said in the way of
thanks embarrassed him a good deal. I suppose
he had never done much at rescuing people.







[AuGusT,


A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


He and our captain both told us that they felt I know, were sorry we could not speak Russian, so
quite sure that the boats had either reached the we could tell our rescuers more plainly what we
Florida coast, or been picked up; for we had thought of them.
cruised very thoroughly over the course they must When we reached Savannah, we went directly to


"AGAIN THE LIFE-PRESERVER WAS THROWN."


have taken. We were a little north of Cape Can-
avaral when the Tigris" took fire.
About sundown that day, we reached the mouth
of the Savannah river and went on board a tug to
go up to the city while our bark would proceed on
her voyage. There were fourteen grateful people
who went down the side of that Russian bark to the
little tug that we had signaled ; and some of us,


the hotel where Rectus and I had stopped on our
former visit, and there we found ourselves the ob-
jects of great attention-I don't mean we three
particularly, but the captain and all of us. We
brought the news of the burning of the Tigris,"
and so we immediately knew that nothing had
been heard of the two boats. Corny was taken
in charge by some of the ladies in the hotel,







A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.


and Rectus and I told the story of the burning
and the raft twenty or thirty times. The news
created a great sensation, and was telegraphed to
all parts of the country. The United States gov-
ernment sent a revenue cutter from Charleston
and one from St. Augustine to cruise along the
coast, and endeavor to find some traces of the sur-
vivors, if there were any.
But two days passed and no news came. We
thought Corny would go crazy.
"I know they 're dead," she said. "If they
were alive, anywhere, we 'd hear from them."
But we would not admit that, and tried, in every
way, to prove that the people in the boats might
have landed somewhere where they could not com-
municate with us, or might have been picked up
by a vessel which had carried them to South Amer-
ica, or Europe, or some other distant place.
Well, why don't we go look for them, then, if
there 's any chance of their being on some desert
island? It 's dreadful to sit here and wait, and
wait, and do nothing."
Now I began to see the good of being rich.
Rectus came to me, soon after Corny had been
talking about going to look for her father and
mother, and he said:
"Look here, Will,"-he had begun to call me
" Will," of late, probably because Corny called me
so-" I think it is too bad that we should just sit
here and do nothing. I spoke to Mr. Parker about
it and he says we can get a tug-boat, he thinks,
and go out and do what looking we can. If it
eases our minds he says there 's no objection to it.
So I'm going to telegraph to father to let me hire
a tug-boat."
I thought this was a first-class idea, and we went


to see Messrs. Parker and Darrell, who were mer-
chants in the city, and the owners of the Tigris."
They had been very kind to us, and told us now
that they did not suppose it would do any real good
for us to go out in a tug-boat and search along the
coast, but that if we thought it would help the poor
girl to bear her trouble they were in favor of the
plan. They were really afraid she would lose her
reason if she did not do .ii'.- ;, _..
Corny was now stayirn ,r i.1' Darrell's house.
His wife, who was a tip-top lady, insisted that she
should come there. When we went around to talk
to Corny about making a search, she said that that
was exactly what she wanted to do. If we would
take her out to look for her father and mother, and
we could n't find them after we had looked all we
could, she would come back, and ask nothing more.
Then we determined to go. We had n't thought
of taking Corny along, but Mr. Darrell and the
others thought it would be best; and Mrs. Darrell
said her own colored woman, named Celia, should
go with her, and take care of her. I could not do
anything but agree to things, but Rectus tele-
graphed to his father, and got authority to hire a
tug; and Mr. Parker attended to the business him-
self; and the tug was to be ready early the next
morning. We thought this was a long time to
wait, but it could n't be helped.
I forgot to say that Rectus and I had telegraphed
home to our parents as soon as we reached Savan-
nah, and had answers back, which were very long
ones for telegrams. We had also written home.
But we did not say anything to Corny about all
this. It would have broken her heart if she had
thought about any one writing to his father and
mother, and hearing from them.


(To be continued.)


-- ----


AyOIDING THE HEATED TERM.


653.








THE PEASE BOYS.



THE PEASE BOYS.

BY MARY L. B. BRANCH.


SOME funny little fellows
Who like to be afloat,
Live in a very handy house
That turns into a boat.


Our Johnny knows them well,
And every time he can
He helps them to go sailing
Upon the sea of Pan.

They are the stout young Pease boys,
And every little brother
Is just as like, our Johnny says,
As one pea to another.











They are such jolly sailors,
And they row extremely well,
Though their oars are slim as broom-corns,
And their boat 's a frail green shell.


But once at least this morning,
The one most round and fat
He caught a crab while rowing,
And on his back fell flat.






"- --- ---^ _






Another, somewhat wiser,
Although not quite so fleet,
Determined to be careful,
And sat astride the seat.

" A storm a storm !" cried Johnny,
As one small craft upset,
But the little Pease boy swam ashore
And laughed at getting wet.


Roll home, you jolly Pease boys,
For here comes brisk Aunt Ann;
She 's going to sweep the kitchen,
And she wants to use the pan !


[AUGUST,


654






THE GAME OF LAWN TENNIS.


THE GAME OF LAWN TENNIS.

BY W. H. BOARDMAN.

---- ----------------- 78 pFi-----------------------
-- -- - -- - - -- - - -


W COURT

CENTRAL "


F-
iu RIGHT

LINE


C COURT
rJn,,,


o T Lo
o RIGHT a COURT LEFT c COURT 1
w IZ I



----F-- --i -- - -26F ------X---- -- i -- ------- ---
DIAGRAM OF A TENNIS GROUND.


THIS game, which is played at a season when
the world appears at its best, combines a most per-
fect exercise for all the muscles, with a singular
charm for girls as well as boys, for men and for
women. Tennis is a very old game, for Galen-
an old Greek medical gentleman-has written of it
to the effect that it was in his time a healthy exer-
cise and quite nice.
All of us, who enjoy playing ball games, would
like to know who had wit enough to invent them.
Herodotus thinks they were first played by the
Lydians, in the reign of King Atyx, many years
before Christ was born, in order to make the people
forget their hunger at a time when they were suf-
fering from a dreadful famine. The game does
not seem to have that effect now.
Tennis, as it is now played in the tennis courts
of England, France and Italy, was perfected and
played, substantially as now, two or three hundred
years ago. Swedenborg, who thinks that in the
next world there are as many different sorts of
heavens as there are different kinds of people,
describes one heaven as having "various sports of
men and boys, as running, hand-ball, tennis."
It has been called both the King of Games "
and the "Game of Kings." This last name was
given it because it was a favorite amusement with
princes and nobles, and both in England and
France edicts were published forbidding the com-
mon people to play it. Henri II. is considered to
have been the best tennis-player of all the French
kings. Henri of Navarre rose at daylight, after
the cruel massacre of St. Bartholomew, to continue
a game of tennis. Henry VIII., of England, was


passionately fond of it until he became too stout,
and you may think it would have been better for
him if he had kept up his interest in it and given
less attention to matrimony. Edward Halle, the
historian, who probably never went to a spelling-
school, says of him: "The kynge thys tyme was
moche entysed to played at tennes and at dice, which
appetite certain craftie persons about hym per-
ceyuinge, brought in Frenchmen and Lombardes
to make wagers with hym and so lost moch money;
but when he perceyued their crafte, he eschuyd
their compaignie,"-which was a very proper thing
for him to do.
Tennis was originally, and still is, played in
halls, or courts, built for the purpose at great cost;
but the more modern game of lawn tennis, which
is now rapidly becoming popular in this country,
can be arranged for a comparatively small cost.
Dealers will supply a very good set for fifteen dol-
lars, which will furnish amusement for a club of
ten or fifteen persons during several seasons.
More expensive and much better sets can, of
course, be had, and it may be said of this, as of
most other out-of-door sports, that the enjoyment
is somewhat in proportion to the excellence of the
materials. The only materials absolutely neces-
sary, however, to enable four persons to play an
enjoyable game, are four racquets, an India rubber
ball, and a cord suspended between two posts.
These can be had, of very good quality, for but
little more than half the cost of a "set."
The game needs, first of all, a smooth, level
ground, which may be either hard-rolled earth,
asphalt, or (probably best of all) well-rolled, closely


655


W
z LEFT







THE GAME OF LAWN TENNIS.


cut turf. A set consists of four racquets, four
India rubber balls, 2 inches in diameter, and
IY ounces in weight, and a net attached to two
posts, 24 feet apart, at a height of 5 feet from the
ground at the posts, and sagging to a height of
only 4 feet at the center. The best dimensions
for the ground, according to the rules of the Mary-
lebone Cricket Club, are 30 feet wide at the base
lines (the end lines), 24 feet wide at the center,
where it is spanned by the net, and 78 feet long.
The ground is divided lengthwise by a central
line, and on either side of this, as one stands facing
the net, are the "right court" and the "left
court." The courts are again divided by a "ser-
vice line," drawn parallel to the base lines at a
distance of 26 feet from the net. The ground
may be longer than this, according as four, six, or
eight players are engaged; but the service lines
should always be at two-thirds of the distance
from the net to the base lines. A ground may
be easily and quickly measured and marked out
with a 1oo feet tape-line and some plaster-of-paris
and water, or whitewash, or, indeed, almost any
substance which will make a distinct line on the
turf.
To play the game, sides are formed, each occupy-
ing its own side of the net, and the choice of courts
may be determined by spinning a racquet in the
air, while an opponent calls out "rough or
" smooth" before it falls to the ground with one of
those faces uppermost. The side which loses the
choice of courts may elect to begin as hand-in"
or "hand-out." Hand-in is the one who "serves"
the ball, that is, begins the game (standing with
one foot on either side of his base line) by serving
(striking) the ball so that it shall pass over the net
and come to the ground in the diagonally opposite
court between the opponent's service line and the
net. If he serves the ball into the wrong court,
into the net, or into the diagonally opposite court
but beyond the service line, he makes a "fault."
Hand-in becomes hand-out (and his opponent
becomes the server) when he serves the ball
outside of court, or when he makes two successive
faults, or when he fails to return the ball so that
it shall fall into one of his opponent's courts.
When hand-in makes a good service" (serves
the bill into the diagonally opposite court within
the service line), the hand-out, who is guarding
that court, attempts with his racquet to strike
the ball as it bounds from the ground, so that it
shall return over the net into either one of hand-
in's courts. Hand-in, or his partner, may then
strike the ball before it bounds (that is to say,
"volley it), or after it has bounded once, return-
ing it again within hand-out's courts, and then
hand-out has like privileges with it. The ball can


thus be struck any number of times back and forth
over the net, until one or the other fails to return
it, or returns it so vigorously that it falls outside
the opponent's courts, or allows the ball to touch
any part of his clothes or person.
If it is hand-out, or his partner, who fails to
make good return," or if the service is volleyed,
one point is scored for hand-in. Hand-in then
again serves the ball (serving from his right and left
courts alternately), and if he makes a good service,
and makes good returns until hand-out finally fails
to make a good return, another point is scored for
hand-in, and he continues to serve and add to his
score, until he fails.
When hand-in fails to make a good service, or a
good return, or makes two successive faults, no
point is scored, and one of his opponents becomes
the server.
The side which first scores fifteen points, or
"aces," wins the game. But, if both sides reach
fourteen, the score is called deuce." A new point,
called "vantage," is then introduced, and either
side in order to score game must win two points
in succession, called "vantage" and "game."
It is important to remember that, when a ball
drops on any line, it is considered to have dropped
within the court aimed at and bounded by that line;
and that it is a good service or a good return, al-
though the ball may have touched the net or either
of the posts in passing over them.
Let us now be spectators of a game. Since
Tennis is traditionally played by princes, and we
have but few princes in this country, let us choose
players who are prominent among us-democrats
and republicans that we are.
The Governor of South Carolina (in the upper
left court) has naturally chosen a Boston Lady (in
his right court) for his partner, and the Governor
of North Carolina (in the opposite right court) is
very glad to have the Lady from Philadelphia (in
his left court) to assist him. The Governor of
North Carolina, spinning his racquet in the air,
now says to the Governor of South Carolina:
What will you take ?"
The Governor of South Carolina answers:
" Rough," and, as the racquet falls to the ground
with the brass-headed tack in sight, he makes his
choice of courts with due regard to the direction
of the sun and wind. The Governor of North
Carolina chooses the first service, and, taking the
ball, stands on the base line of his right court with
his left shoulder turned toward the net, and asks
the Boston Lady:
"Are you ready?"
She answers : Ready," and he at once releases
the ball from his left hand, and swinging his
racquet at arm's length, drives the ball into the


656


[AUGUST,







THE GAME OF LAWN TENNIS.


opponent's right court, making a good service.
Being skillful, he strikes with his racquet slanted,
which gives the ball a twist, or violent whirling
motion, so that when it strikes the ground it will
not bound in a straight line, but will shoot toward
the right;
The Boston Lady is alert, and noticing the way
the Governor held his racquet, has promptly placed
herself, so that, when the ball comes twisting from
the ground, her left side is toward it, and it passes
in front of her within her reach. She catches it
lightly on her racquet, and drives it far over into


657


which has been going on about her; she never is
excited. She has moved up quite near the net,
and now, with great coolness and precision, she
receives the ball fairly on her racquet, and drives
it at the Governor opposite with such force that
he can not prevent its touching his body, and
the stroke is ended, scoring an ace for the server's
side.
In learning to play Tennis, the first and all-im-
portant lesson is the manner of holding the racquet.
Vicious habits are seldom corrected. Do not begili
in the wrong way. In serving, grasp the racquet


A GAME OF LAWN TENNIS.
her opponent's left court, hoping that the Governor lightly, with the hand elongated so that the thumb
of North Carolina may not be agile enough to get will lie along the handle, and the handle will be a
before it. But he is there, and you will observe continuation of the arm, and with the face of the
that, though he had to run a considerable distance racquet neither parallel with, nor perpendicular to,
in a very short time, yet he has judged the ball so the ground. When in this position, and swung
well and started so promptly that he is standing horizontally, it will not strike the ball squarely,
still, firmly on both feet, when the ball arrives, and but will rake it, giving it a violent twist, which will
he drives it sharply over the head of his old friend, make it bound sharply and unexpectedly, and tend
the Governor of South Carolina. The latter, with to deceive and evade your opponent. This is
his racquet above his head, stops the ball and called the "pure cut." When you have learned
volleys it blindly back within reach of the Lady to make a good service with tolerable certainty,
from Philadelphia. And now is the opportunity practice raking the ball on the right side and again
for this distinguished lady. She has been not at on the left side (called respectively, the over-
all excited or made nervous by the swift battle hand twist" and the "under-hand twist"), and






[AUGUST,


BECKY'S SURPRISE DAY.


notice and remember the effect on the ball when it
bounds.
When the ball is being served or returned to
you, promptly place yourself in a good position to
receive it, and then wait for it coolly. Don't
fidget.
Lastly, in playing this delightful game, remember


that though sport is not a serious business, it is
essentially an earnest one. It is not wise to dis-
pute questions of fact with your opponent, or even
discuss a construction of the rules farther than to
state fairly your understanding of them. Take
your defeats good-naturedly, and wear your honors
lightly, but always do your level best.


THE RACQUET,


BECKY'S SURPRISE DAY.

BY HELENE J. HICKS.


THE bright morning sun-light, streaming in at
the windows of a trim kitchen, fell upon the brown
curls of a girl of ten, who was lifting a churn-
dasher in a listless, discouraged manner, not be-
cause the churn was large and the dasher conse-
quently heavy,-it was neither large nor heavy,
and it was not the churn at all that brought the
sorrowful look upon the pretty face, and caused
the tears to make small rivulets down the rosy
cheeks, and then to fall plump upon the churn-lid.
Trip, the lazy old dog, sprawled beside the
stove, and old Tom, the big gray cat, in the win-
dow-seat sunning himself, knew of it, because they
had been told all about it the day before, for
nothing of joy or grief came into Becky Thorpe's
life that was not at once confided to the safe keep-
ing of Tom and Trip.
There now, Becky, 't aint any use wastin' sighs
and tears; when a thing can't be did, it can't,
that 's plain enough Massy knows I'd like to 'a
brought it about, but your ma took sick, and it
could n't be did; now that was plain enough 'pears
to me."
The speaker, with her head in the huge brick
oven, while delivering this speech, and ascertaining
the exact heat, drew back quickly with an emphatic
nod, and proceeded to fill the oven with the pies,
cake and bread standing ready beside her.
"And anotherr thing, Becky. My old mother
used to say as there was a bright spot on top of
every trouble, small and great, if we 'd got the


patience to turn it over so 's to see it; and it's my
'pinion, Becky, that this little trouble of yourn
will turn out to have a regular streak of sunshine
on top of it."
I don't see where the sunshine can come from,
Judy. This is my birthday, and I was to have had
a party, and everybody was invited, and yesterday
everybody had to be invited over again to-to stay
-at home."
Numberless sobs finished Becky's speech, caus-
ing old Tom to purr louder, and Trip to bark
sleepily.
Lawful sakes, Becky You '11 never see the
bright side of this or any other airthly thing, from
now till Kingdom-come, if you're' so determined to
keep looking' on the blackest side. That's plain
enough Now, s'pos'n' I should stand and stare at
my bakin' like a sick hen, and never touch a hand
to it, do you s'pose the bakin' would do itself?
No the pies and bread would jist set there a
laffin', if they could, jest like a trouble that '11 for-
ever keep a mockin' one if you 're determined to
keep forever looking' in its ugly face. Lawful sakes,
Becky child, you 'll find that all these little troub-
lous things, along with the big ones, have got to be
conquered, and got along with, and the best way to
do it is, to plant a solid foot on top of it, and be
determined to make the best of anything you can't
help."
Judy, the stout buxom girl from the back-
country, who was servant, general overseer, adviser







BECKY'S SUR


and friend in this household, stood with a hand
upon each hip while delivering these latter re-
marks, her honest comely face glowing with
earnestness and strength.
"Were you ever disappointed, Judy?"
Disapp'inted Lawful sakes, I wish I had as
many dollars, Becky, I do."
What did you do, Judy?"
"Do? Got over it one way and another. "
Judy's head was in the oven again, and the
last answer came indistinctly.
Did you say you got over it, Judy ?"
Sartain. Do you s'pose I 'm goin' to be
mastered by a leetle trouble, with the Lord a
holding' out his hand when there 's a hill to climb?"
Judy closed the oven door with a slam.
How did you do it, Judy?"
The churn dasher stood quite still, and the tears
had dried away.
Do it? By holding' on to my old mother's text.
She lived by that text, did my mother."
What was it, Judy?"
Hark now "
Judy tiptoed to the hall and listened a moment.
I did think your ma was a-callin'. Want to
know the text, do you? Well, here't is: 'He that
overcometh shall inherit all things.' Jist pin that
to your sleeve, Becky, and don't forget it, another;
and now I must tackle the work. You begun
right this morning ; I '11 stop to say that, child; for
I've been a-watchin' of you, offering' to help Judy
with the work, and jammin' away at that churn in
a way that would n't bring butter before next
Christmas. But what of it? It was the sperit I
looked at. But when them tears went a-chasin'
down your cheeks, thinks to me, siz I, Becky 's
gittin' on the wrong side of her little trouble. So
now you cheer up, and go 'long upstairs to your
ma, who is sorry enoughh fur your disappointment,
and take good care of her, and things '11 come out
square yet, see if they don't. Lawful sakes, birth-
days come fast'nough, leastways, mine does. Now
scoot right out of this kitchen, and mind you don't
come back 'fore dinner; same time bear in mind
supper-time '11 come before to-morrow."
After this mysterious remark, Judy closed her
lips firmly, and marched straight to the wood-shed
with the air of a conquering hero, smiling and
nodding in a manner more mysterious still.
Becky lingered a moment anxious to question
Judy, but she remembered from past experience
that, once her lips were closed in that way, ques-
tioning was useless, and so with lightened heart
and rapid step, she hastened to her mother's room.
Judy in her homely way had comforted the little
heart, and when Becky entered her mother's room,
the pretty face had lost its sorrowful look.


1879.]


PRISE DAY. 659


Is that you, Becky? "
Yes, mother," going up to the pale face upon
the pillow.
I am so sorry that you should have had this
disappointment."
Oh, I don't mind it now; I did yesterday and
this morning. You know the blood-roots are all
out, and the anemones too, and the grove is full
of birds; but Judy has been talking to me, and I
don't seem to care so very much. What can I do
for you, mother ?"
You can sit beside me, and smooth the hair
from my forehead; your hand always soothes the
pain in my head, and I think, as the pain is less
severe, I shall soon get to sleep."
Becky sat down beside her mother, and began
smoothing her hair, letting her cool hand rest
lightly upon the throbbing temples, and easing the
pain with her soft and loving touch. She saw the
tired eyes close at length, and the louder even
breathing proclaimed her asleep; still Becky sat
there, with her hand resting quietly upon the
white forehead.
She was thinking of Judy's mother's text, and
wondering if she had overcome the disappoint-
ment; true she was feeling quite bright and cheer-
ful, but she would rather have had the birthday
party, and her mother well, than to be sitting
there. Judy had not said, "Don't be sorry about
matters you cannot help,"-she said, Don't fret
about them; and she would not fret, but just go
through the day doing whatever she could, and
not think much about this disappointment; that
must be the overcoming.
Just at this time, a loud buzzing at the window
attracted her attention; an inquisitive wasp had
squeezed himself between the window-shutters, and
was buzzing about, acting in a very disreputable
manner, whacking his head against and into every
object that came in his way,-the looking-glass,
wash-bowl, chairs, tables, ornaments, and even the
bed. Becky almost screamed when he buzzed
right over her mother's head, and almost against
her own forehead, only she dodged just in time to
prevent that. She was convulsed with laughter
watching his antics, and was glad enough when at
last he made his escape the same way he had
come in.
Becky next found amusement watching three
flies upon the ceiling. As they only occasionally
moved about, she decided they also had come in
through the shutters, and, finding the room too
dark for general business, had gone to sleep.
While she was thinking of this and various other
things, Judy, below stairs, had been putting to-
gether various compounds, hurrying them into the
oven, and out again when baked to a certain degree








BECKY'S SURPRISE DAY [AUGUST,


of perfection, performing everything with haste,
and a degree of mystery curious to behold; there
was also considerable chuckling and excitement,
which reached such a height, when at last a cake of
enormous size emerged from the oven with her
assistance, that she saw fit to lock every door and
draw the curtain.
Her sleeves were rolled away to the elbows, but,
evidently, for the work in hand they were not high
enough, or not sufficiently out of her way; there-
fore, with a dexterous shove, the sleeves were away
up to her armpits tight and snug.
Then followed a frantic beating of eggs, as her
eye fell upon the kitchen clock, rapid and energetic
charges at the sugar-jar, and, twenty minutes later,
the great cake stood like a snowy mound; and
then Judy, with a jerky laugh, hastily filled a
cornucopia-made of letter-paper-with the icing
that remained, and proceeded to decorate the
cake.
This task was a difficult one, judging from the
anxious face, screwed-up lips and squinting eyes,
bent eagerly over the work; but Judy laughed
aloud with entire satisfaction, as at last, standing
off a little way, with her head one side, she sur-
veyed her work.
The name, Becky, being generously supplied
with e's and k's, stood something like this,-
B-e-e-k-k-i-e,-and, consequently, took up more
room than it should; the Thorpe meandered down
one side, and lost itself in the really pretty vine
ornamenting the outer edge.
A moment later, the cake had disappeared from
sight, together with numerous other goodies, and
Judy was serenely preparing dinner, without a ves-
tige of mystery or anything uncommon evident in
her manner.
While Becky was still watching the flies, the
door slowly unclosed and Judy's head appeared;
Becky's finger was at her lip in a moment, and
Judy, comprehending at a glance, nodded ener-
getically and whispered softly, "Dinner."
Becky would not have believed it possible that
dinner-time had come, only that she was very
hungry; and, gently raising her hand from her
mother's forehead, she quietly passed from the
room, and, running down-stairs, burst in upon
Judy in the kitchen, exclaiming:
Mother has slept all the morning, and I don't
care a bit now, Judy, about the party."
Told you," said Judy, nodding wisely. "Just
whisk that tea-pot off the stove now, while I blow
the horn for the men-folks."
Becky did as commanded, while brisk Judy
awakened the echoes in the wooded hills with the
blast upon the old tin horn, that had called father and
the boys to dinner as long as Becky could remem-


ber. After the dinner-table had been cleared away,
the kitchen swept, and everything put in prime
order for the afternoon,-which Judy saw would be
a long one for restless Becky, who was wondering
already why mother did not wake up,-Judy said,
abruptly, as though she had not had the subject in
mind for an hour or more:
Your ma, I 'm sure, would like a nosegay of
them white things you youngun's are goin' crazy
about, and the pale-blue little posies will look nice
with 'em; so s'posin' you trot out there and pick a
basketful; don't hurry back another. Take Trip
and Tom 'long and have a jolly time there, and
when I toot the horn you trot home."
"Oh, Judy, can I?"
Sartain. There now, don't smother Judy;
scoot off, and don't come back till you hear the
horn."
Judy knew how the moments and hours would
pass away there on the sunny hill where the blood-
roots grew, and that Becky would scarcely be ready
to return when she was ready for her. The woods
and hill were just back of the house, and Becky,
she knew, would be quite safe there alone.
During the afternoon, good Judy bustled about
in a glow of excitement; up and down stairs the
patient feet pattered, down cellar, out to the wood-
shed, to the store-room to inspect certain goodies,
and again upstairs until plump five o'clock, when
everything seemingly had arrived at a beautiful
state of perfection, judging from Judy's beaming,
satisfied face.
At noon she had found time to whisper some-
thing to Mr. Thorpe and the boys, who nodded
mysteriously, and smiled knowingly when Becky
was not looking; and now Judy was ready for her
return, and, accordingly, in a new calico gown and
white apron, she took up the tin horn, and was
about to awaken the echoes again, when she saw
the little figure entering the gate just before her,
so laden with flowers, leaves and vines, as to be
almost unrecognizable, save for devoted Trip and
Tom walking demurely by her side.
Well, now !" said Judy, hanging up the horn;
"jist in time, aint you ?"
Why, Judy how you are fixed up !"
"Sartain; don't folks fix up when they go to
parties ?"
Becky laughed outright. Judy had never at-
tended a party that she knew of, and the idea was
so sudden and funny.
"Whose party are you going to, Judy?" Becky
laughed again.
"Becky Thorpe's party. Now you scoot along
to the settin'-room, 'cause the party 's started, and
it's time you was on hand."
Becky allowed herself to be pushed ahead of


BECKY'SS SURPRISE DAY


[AUGUST,







ON THE BEACH.


Judy quite into the sitting-room, still laden with
her treasures, as bewildered and befogged as it was
possible to be by Judy's last remark, and then,
whom should she see, first of all, but mother in an
arm-chair, with a pillow or two, looking pale but
smiling brightly; and father, with his arm resting
upon the mantel, was smiling also upon the sur-
prised face.
The boys were there, capering about in a state of
excitement, and, the oddest thing of all, everybody
seemed to be in holiday clothes.
In her surprise, Becky never once glanced at the
table until brother Jacob called her attention to it.
Do, Becky, stop staring at my new coat, and
look at that birthday table, will you ?"
And then Becky saw not only the best china in
use, but also the enormous cake in the very center,
flanked on every side with just the good things she
specially liked.
There was lemon custard, crab-apple jelly, cheese
right from the press, a plate of sweet brown rusks,
a palm-leaf-shaped pat of butter, a basket filled
with the other sorts of cakes she liked best, and a
glass dish of golden oranges; besides, a dish of
tarts and another of boiled eggs.
It was so delightful, and came upon Becky so


suddenly, she had no word to say, and for a
moment her eyes filled, and the brown curls lay
upon mother's shoulder; and then Judy, who
would not own to having had a thing to do with it
although she had accomplished it all, was hugged
and kissed until she was obliged to run from the
room laughing.
They brought her back the next moment, Becky
and the boys declaring that, after all, it was
Judy's party, given in honor of Becky's birthday,
and she must occupy the best place at table, to
which, at a whispered word from Mrs. Thorpe,
Judy assented.
While they were seated, doing justice to the
good things Judy had prepared, Becky stopped a
moment to ask:
"How did you happen to think of this, good
Judy ?"
"Why," said Judy, smiling and nodding ener-
getically, seeing you fighting' your little battle,
and overcomin' it too, and I thought, as I would
add a little to that good old text, and, 'long with
inheritin' all things up yonder, I 'd jist help you a
leetle to a bit of happiness down here, and so I
thought it would be no harm in lettin' the day end
in a sort of joyful s'prise."


ON THE BEACH.






[AUGUST,


IIERCULES-JACK.



CITY SPARROWS.

BY EDGAR FAWCETT.


IN throngs of nimble-fluttering pairs,
Through every change the year fulfills,
You haunt the city's parks and squares,
With russet shapes and silver trills!

And while I watch you dart to-day
Along the trim swards, fresh of hue,
I dream that winds from far away
Send murmurous messages to you!

" Ah, quit the dreary town," they call,
Where trade's loud voice is harshly heard,
For meadowy regions, fair with all
That makes it sweet to be a bird 1


" Come where the woodland sways and sings
Below deep skies of ample blue !
Come, brush the cool grass with your wings,
And bathe them in its morning dew !

" Come where the mild herds low and bleat,
Where quiet hazes wrap the hills,
Where breezes bow the tasseled wheat,
And long moss drapes the dripping mills "

So, while I watch you dart to-day
Along the trim swards, fresh of hue,
I dream that winds from far away .
Send murmurous messages to you 1


HERCULES-JACK.

BY E. L. BYNNER.


NOT his real name; of course not. His father
and mother would never have given him such a
name as that. His real name was John Franklin
Holmes, and there was n't a wooden bench, a gate-
post, or barn-door within a mile of his father's
house on which the initials J. F. H." might not
have been found,-cut by a very busy but some-
what battered jack-knife.
Hercules-Jack was only a nickname he had
picked up, and you shall judge how fairly he came
by it when I have told you a little more about
him.
Johnny, or Jack Holmes, as he was oftener
called, was just ten years old. Jack was round
and chubby, with red hair, blue eyes, and a
freckled nose that turned up the least bit in the
world at the end.
Did I say he was plump? If I did n't I should
do so at once, for that was the very first thing that
struck you about Jack; he was quite plump; in-
deed, I may say very plump; his cheeks were as
round as apples, there were dimples in the backs
of his hands, and his jacket fitted him as tightly as
a skin does a sausage.
Now, this was a sore point with Jack, especially
as the boys used to laugh at him, sometimes,
because he was so fat; but perhaps Jack would


not have minded the boys very much if one day he
had not overheard Polly Joy whisper to Susy Dit-
son, when he was standing behind their desk doing
a sum in vulgar fractions upon the blackboard,
that he was "a ridiculous little dumpling." This
was too much; it shot a pang into poor Jack's
heart.
For to whisper to you a little secret, Jack very
much admired Polly. He thought her cheeks
were the rosiest, her braids were the longest, her
dresses were the finest, her hats the prettiest, and
that she herself was altogether the nicest girl, in the
big round world.
Poor Jack !-Polly's unkind remark rankled in
his bosom. After brooding over it for several days,
he awoke one morning and took a sudden resolu-
tion. He clenched his teeth, pounded his fat little
fist on the table, and exclaimed:
If I am a dumpling, I '11 do something that all
the thin boys in the world could n't do."
Jack's round little head was full of schemes; his
throbbing little heart was full of courage; he had
a spirit big enough for a giant, while his ambition,
for a ten-year-old boy, was really quite tremendous.
Now, Jack had read a good many books of advent-
ure; there was nothing he liked better than to
pore over the doings of knights and dwarfs, giants,







HERCUL ES-JACK.


dragons and magicians, and that sort of people.
Especially he admired and reverenced Jack-the-
Giant-Killer, while he bemoaned that there were
no giants left for him to destroy.
He thought of other ways of distinguishing him-
self. He considered the merits of highwaymen
and pirates; but as he knew that people in these
professions nearly always came to bad ends, and as
there was no lonely road where he could wait for
travelers, and no fleet horse to ride, and as no con-
venient ocean lay near his father's house, and there
was no way of his getting a long, low, black


663


He would be another such hero,-a modern Her-
cules. The thought thrilled him. He brooded
over it by day; it haunted his dreams by night.
He went about with a lofty look on his face. He
already regarded the other boys with the pity and
compassion with which a real hero would perhaps
regard common men.
But how to become a Hercules ?-that was the
next question. There were no roaring lions, no
savage wild boars, no many-headed hydras in the
little village where he lived. Neither did centaurs
abound; indeed, Jack had never seen one in his


"THE BOYS SOMETIMES LAUGHED AT HIM."


schooner, if the ocean had been there, he gave up
these plans.
Finding these roads to distinction shut to him,
Jack went about for a while quite dejected, until
one day he came across an old book of mythology
in the library, and there read of the exploits of
Hercules, the great hero of antiquity, who per-
formed twelve celebrated labors," or heroic
deeds. Jack's eyes glowed as he read the wonder-
ful narrative. Again and again lie pored over the
record with bated breath and kindled imagination.
And as he read of the mighty deeds of this great
hero, a purpose gradually took root in his mind.


life; "but then," he thought to himself, there-
must be plenty of other terrible and wonderful
things to do," and so his resolution was taken.
But how to begin ?
I've got to do something first to get up a
name before I begin on the 'labors,' said Jack..
" Hercules strangled the snakes,-I 'm rather
afraid of snakes,-but stop ; the first thing to do,
is to get a club ; of course that 's the main thing.
With the right sort of a club, the 'labors' them-
selves can't amount to very much."
Accordingly, Jack spent days traversing the
woods with an old ax, in search of a club. After


t_







HERCU LES- JACK.


a long hunt, he at length decided upon a hickory
sapling with a formidable knot, about four feet
from the ground, which could be cut so as to bring
this knot at the end of the club. With patient
toil, Jack cut down, trimmed and peeled and whit-
tled and polished this hickory stick, which, when
done, was fully as long as himself, and indeed he
could only wield it by using both hands and put-
ting forth all his strength.
Now, at length, he was ready to begin. He
drew a long breath. What should he do? He
pondered the question long and anxiously. It was
very strange, but now when he came to look about


crabbed as himself. Again and again the boys
and girls, and indeed grown-up women and men,
had been chased and scared by this savage beast,
who, not content with his own domain, had a
vicious habit of leaping fences and roaming about
the highway. Many complaints had been made
to old Sol without avail, and the bull had become
the terror of the neighborhood. It was almost
strange Jack had not thought of him before.
He now at once determined upon an encounter
with the bull. But first he went down the lane
and took a private look at the creature from be-
hind a stone wall. He seemed so little formidable


" HE THOUGHT OF DISTINGUISHING HIMSELF AS PIRATE AND HIGHWAYMAN."


him, there really was nothing wonderful to do.
Life was surprisingly peaceful and humdrum, and
pitifully tame. The most discouraging thing was
the lack of ferocious monsters. There was an
utter dearth of monsters. Jack could n't under-
stand why these interesting creatures only abounded
in ancient times.
One day, while Jack was still puzzling over the
question of what he should do first, one of the
neighbors came into the house, and began to tell
about her little boy who had just barely escaped
being tossed by old Sol Stevens's bull.
Here was an opportunity. This was what Jack
was waiting for, and he immediately decided upon
a plan of action.
Sol Stevens was a crabbed old man who lived
down a long lane, and owned an old bull as


as he stood peacefully grazing in the meadow, that
Jack promised himself an easy task in his subjuga-
tion.
In playing the part of Hercules, it was desirable,
of course, to look as much like that hero as possi-
ble, and accordingly, one fine afternoon Jack
slipped off to the barn with a big bundle under his
arm, and there proceeded to dress himself as nearly
as he could like the picture in the old mythology.
As Hercules had bare legs and arms in the
picture, Jack first tucked up his own trousers and
sleeves, and tied them securely to his waist and
shoulders ; then for the lion's skin, which the hero
wore, Jack fastened about his shoulders a bright
red sheepskin mat which he borrowed from the
hall in the house. Next throwing off his hat,
tossing his hair about as much like the picture as


[AUGUST,







HERCULES-JACK.


CUTTING THE CLUB.


up very near to the unsuspecting bull. Jack had
read somewhere that the most wild and savage
beast cannot endure the gaze of the human eye,
and he therefore resolved to overawe the bull first
with his eye, and then complete his subjugation at
his leisure.
With this intent, he planted himself about a
yard distant from the bull, and putting his arm
akimbo, glared fiercely at him. The unconscious
animal peacefully continued his grazing. No
doubt, if he could have known who Jack was, and
what was his errand, or if he had understood that
when a small boy goes about bareheaded with
his trousers tucked up and the parlor mat tied to
his back, that means Hercules, and that Hercules
was a hero, and that Jack meant to be another
hero, and had now fixed his small blue eyes upon
him with the intent of striking terror to his heart,
-no doubt, I say, if the bull could have under-


possible, Jack seized his club and strode up and stood all this, he would have been terribly fright-
down the barn floor, feeling so brave and confident ened, and would have shaken in every limb; and
that it may be doubted if Hercules himself ever particularly, if he had only cast his eye upon that
felt more so. club, and understood it was intended for him, I am
Thus equipped, Jack at length marched off sure he would have run away as fast as his legs
down the lane, accompanied by three or four of his could carry him. As it was, the stupid creature
comrades whom he had let into the secret. Pre- did nothing of the sort; he kept on quietly grazing
cisely what he was going to do, or how he was and paying no more attention to Jack than if he
going to do it, he evidently had no clear notion; had been a post.
but in this he was only like a great many other This was too humiliating for a hero to endure.
heroes, after all. However, the first thing was, of The boys from the top of the distant wall already
course, to seek his prey. On and on he went began to shout, derisively:
down the lane, his bare legs blue with the cold, "Don't be afraid; give it to him! Punch him
the sheepskin flapping up and down on his
back, and the big club-too heavy to carry
-dragged along behind.
Arrived at the bottom of the lane, the
boys stationed themselves upon the wall,
while Jack jumped over into the pasture
where the bull was. He did n't walk quite
so proudly and erect here as in the lane,--
he took shorter steps; there was, perhaps,
less occasion for striding now that he was
near at hand. However, he advanced
slowly and cautiously toward the distant
herd of cattle. Now
and then he turned
around in a deliberative
way. His pace grew
steadily slower. At 1
length, when he was \
still some yards distant, I
the bull unexpectedly
lifted his head to brush
away a fly, and brought JACK AS HERCULES.
Jack to a sudden stand-still. Reflecting, however, in the ribs Stare him out of countenance Knock
that Hercules would probably not have acted in this his horns off Twist his tail! "
way, Jack plucked up courage and marched boldly Jack advanced a little nearer; he coughed, he
VOL. VI.-45.






[AUGUST,


HERCULES-JACK.


"HE WAS THE TERROR OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD."
flourished his club. Presently, incited by the cries ment, the bull did not quail in the least; on the
of the boys, he picked up a stone and threw it at contrary, as if suddenly appreciating Jack's hostile
the passive animal. purpose, he glared back so angrily and fiercely
The bull lifted his head, and for the first time that Jack became very much discomfited and began
slowly to retire. The bull
S, .'.,--' tossed his head, uttered a
.. i low bellow, and stood
S.watching Jack attentively.
S.The red mat, about this
time, began to slip from
/, Jack's shoulder, and he
pulled it up so that it
Hung in front of him,when
/ /| .' / at once, as if maddened by
S, ) the sight, the bull made
S, ,' a furious rush at his antag-
onist. Jack did not wait
2I / to try the effect of the hu-
Sman eye any longer; in-
Si /' deed, he forgot all about
.. the human eye, he forgot
,./ I r all about Hercules, and
S, / every other hero, ancient
"-. or modern, but throwing
L his club at the rushing
"JACK GLARED AT THE BULL" animal, he fled to a small
apple-tree, which fortu-
looked attentively at Jack, who immediately struck nately was near at hand. The bull stopped to toss
an attitude and glared at him. To his astonish- the club, and this gave Jack a minute's time and







HERCULES-JACK.


saved his life, for he had only just scrambled up to
the nearest branch when the vicious beast came
bellowing up underneath, and stamping with rage.
Jack was now
a prisoner, and
was just mak-
_- ing up his
mind that he
would have to
/ spend a long
time in the
tree, when the
boys suddenly
set up a great
shout of:


T' --T U7 F1*


667


Oh, please," cried Jack, his teeth chattering
with fear, "I was only playing Hercules."
"I'1 Hercules' ye !" cried old Sol, seizing Jack
as he came down the tree and shaking him
roughly. Let me ever ketch ye in my apple-tree
ag'in and I '11 ye miserable young urchin !"
Here now was hero Jack in the strong grasp of
an angry man, and with a stick in the air ready to
come down on his back.
Then rose such indignant and significant shouts
from the group of boys on the wall, that Sol
Stevens turned. Jack saw his chance and made a
sudden spring. His collar tore off in the old man's
hand, and the culprit was soon safely over the wall,
and making the best of his way home, surrounded
__S________-__ by the boys, who
S.y were waiting in the
S lane, and who by
turns ridiculed him
S and congratulated
S"' 'j him on his escape.
i Jack would n't
41 have minded the
S boys, but, just as he
' turned out ofthe lane
upon the road,whom
S should he see com-
i. ing along but Susy
--' Ditson and Polly
SMM it Joy!


The more Jack
,.. tried to hide, the
"Look out, Jack; old Sol's coming!" '~' more the boys would
And, sure enough, old Sol was coming; ',. n't let him. There
there he was letting down the bars now ; was a pretty lively
to take his cattle home. Jack kept very II scramble. The girls
still, and hoped he would not be discov- heard, looked up,
ered for he was even more afraid of old and saw a squirming
Sol than of the bull. mass of dark coats
But the unfortunate red mat caught i and trousers pushing
old Sol's eye, and he came marching forward a red-faced
across to see what was that red thing in boy, whose plump
his tree. arms were waving
"Come down here, you young rascal wildly,while a woolly
What are you doing up my apple-tree ?" ed door-mat dan-
he cried, as he recognized Jack. -- gled about his bare
Nothin', sir,-the bull chased me !" WHAT ARE OU DOING UP MY APPLE-TREE?" legs !
"Well, what business had you in this Then came a halt,
field where the bull could get at you ? You came a sudden wrench, and away flew Jack down the
to steal my apples; I know you road, even faster than he had fled from the bull.
Oh, I d-did n't, sir; no, indeed I d-did n't!" And this was the last that was seen in public of
Come down here, I tell ye. What are you John Franklin Holmes in the character of Her-
doin' with that door-mat on your back, eh ?" cules.


2879.]







A FEW OF OUR HABITS.


DOING HER BEST.


A FEW OF OUR HABITS.

BY M. C. HOLMES.


You have heard it said a great many times that
we are all "creatures of habit," have you not?
And probably you have taken for granted that the
statement is true, without really stopping to think
how very true it is, and how much habits have to
do in forming our characters and preparing us to
be useful, interesting, and agreeable men and
women.
As we every one of us know, it is very easy to
fall into a habit (particularly if it is a bad one),
and exceedingly hard to climb out of it again;
each repetition of an action lessens the difficulty
of its performance, until finally we act without any
conscious effort of mind, and by that time our
habit is formed; therefore, it is necessary to keep
our eyes wide open, and watch that no bad habit
creeps upon us unawares, for, after we are once in


its power, some pretty hard fighting is required on
our parts to overthrow the enemy. Some writer
has said, The chains of habit are generally too
small to be felt until they are too strong to be
broken; but a determined will can file through
even these mightily forged links.
How many of you know what procrastination
means ? It is a very common habit, especially
among little girls and boys, and most of them act
it a great many times each day, when they wait
"just a little while" before doing any duty that
ought to be performed immediately. I have a
little friend twelve years old who is always getting
into trouble through this fault, though she has
firmly resolved to conquer it, and I think is really
trying her best to do so.
When school began a few months ago, she


668


[AUGUST,







A FEW OF OUR HABITS.


hoped there would be no time to practice in the
short afternoons, for that was something she could
not bear to do; great was her disappointment
then, when papa remarked:
Nina, you will get home at three o'clock each
day, and you must always manage to practice a
full hour before dark."
The little girl intended to obey, but often she
lingered over her dinner until mamma had to call
down-stairs :
Go to the piano now, Nina, and waste no
more time."
Yes, ma'am, I 'm going," is the answer, but
first her hands must be washed; then she stops
to tell nurse something funny that happened in
school, and the baby laughs and crows in such an
irresistible way that Nina says :
Oh, I must play with him just a minute."
Of course, after the romp, her hair needs
smoothing, and the little girl thinks I may just
as well braid it all over, it wont take much
longer; then she perhaps remembers that grand-
ma forgot to give her any fruit for dinner, so off
she runs to ask for some; the hands must then be
washed again, and while that ceremony is being
gone through, company comes in to see her
mother, and the parlor is occupied until it is too
late to go to the piano that day.
When papa comes home, his first question is:
Well, little daughter, have you practiced your
hour ?"
And Nina hangs her head and explains that she
has put it off until all her afternoon was wasted.
Then for punishment she would have to go to
bed at seven o'clock instead of eight, and rise a
whole hour earlier than everybody else next morn-
ing in order to make up the practice lost the day
before.
Another frequent habit among both girls and
boys, as well as among grown-up people, is exag-
geration, or the use of much stronger language
than the occasion warrants. If you are telling
some little occurrence that you have seen, or
repeating a story that has been told you, do not
try to make it any more startling or marvelous
than it really is, but adhere closely to the truth,
regardless of effect. I have known persons to
become so confirmed in the habit of exaggeration,
that it finally became impossible for them to give
a simple fact correctly, and though they did not
intend telling falsehoods, and would have been
shocked to know they were guilty of anything so
wrong, they really were considered untruthful
people by many of their acquaintances, and were
disliked and distrusted in consequence.
Try to speak the exact truth in little things. If
you say the dust is perfectly "frightful," when it is


669


simply annoying, and the cold is awful," when it
merely makes your cheeks tingle, what meaning
will be in the words you use to speak of a great
railroad accident, or steamboat disaster, or the
burning of some theater where hundreds of people
are mangled, crushed, and killed ? Teach your-
selves to employ simple forms of expression for
simple occurrences, then the words you use will
always have fitness and meaning.
I wonder how many of you little people (or big
people either, for that matter) would be willing to
have your top bureau drawer put on exhibition
without any warning! I fancy I see a smile curl-
ing the corners of several small mouths at that
question. Now is the time to begin, if you ever
wish to be an orderly, systematic man or woman;
remember the simple rule so often quoted: Have
a place for everything, and keep everything in its
place;" and though at first you will have some
trouble in following it strictly, the good habit of
order will soon be formed, and you and your
friends will be spared a great deal of annoyance
and discomfort.
An exceedingly good habit to fall into is that of
thoroughness. Never be satisfied with a piece of
work of any description, unless you have done it
just as well as you possibly" could; for people
who do things thoroughly are "such" a com-
fort in this world of carelessness, a comfort to
themselves, and a comfort to all who come in con-
tact with them; their work never has to be done
over again, but is always satisfactory. This little
virtue can be cultivated in every act of your lives,
-at home and in school,-in dusting a room,
making a doll-dress, studying, or practicing a
music lesson. If builders should not be particular
to put every brick in the exact place it ought to oc-
cupy, our houses would fall down upon our heads;
and if some little piece of machinery should be
carelessly made in the engines of our trains and
steamboats, the consequence would be railroad
wrecks and explosions every day. So you see how
necessary it is for the safety of our lives that men
should be trained to do their work thoroughly; and
if the habit is not formed during youth, it is almost
an impossibility to acquire it in after life, when
men find it hard to learn new ways.
Now I have suggested several habits, some bad,
to get out of, and others good, to get into; and I
will end by telling you of another, which is worth
more than a fortune to the boy or girl who will take
the trouble to form it, for with "perseverance" one
can gain almost any good thing in life that he or
she desires. Patient perseverance conquers almost
all difficulties. Just try for yourselves and see if it
does not. This habit can be gained while you are
working for the other good ones of which I have







EYEBRIGHT.


spoken, and I am sure that will be a very nice way
to begin its cultivation.
Suppose you all adopt the plan of writing on
a sheet of paper the bad. habits you have, and
the good ones you wish to exchange them for.
Then pin the list on the inside of your bed-room


door, and read it over carefully every morning
before breakfast; this will help you to remember
through the day the position, advantages, and
disadvantages of the battle-field, and you will be
better prepared to guard against a surprise from
the enemy.


EYEBRIGHT.

BY SUSAN COOLIDGE.


CHAPTER VIII.--(Continued.)
EYEBRIGHT had never seen a cave before,
though she had read and played about caves all
her life, so you can imagine her ecstasy and aston-
ishment at finding herself in a real one at last. It
was as good as the "Arabian Nights," she thought,
a great deal better than the cave in the "Swiss
Family Robinson," and, indeed, it was a beauti-
ful place. Cool green light filled it, like sunshine
filtered through sea-water. The rocky shelves
were red, or rather a deep rosy pink, and the water
in the pools was of the color of emerald and beauti-
fully clear. She climbed up to the nearest pool,
and gave a loud scream of delight, for there, under
her eye, was a miniature flower-garden, made by
the fairies, it would seem, and filled with dahlia-
shaped and hollyhock-shaped things, purple, crim-
son, and deep orange, which were flowers to all
appearance, and yet must be animals; for they
opened and shut their many-tinted petals, and
moved and swayed when she dipped her fingers in
and splashed the water about. There were green
spiky things, too, exactly like freshly fallen chest-
nut burrs, lettuce-like leaves,-pale red ones, as
fine as tissue-paper,-and delicate filmy foliage in
soft brown and in white. Yellow snails clung to
the sides of the pool, vivid in color as the blossom
of a trumpet-creeper ; and, as she lay with her
face close to the surface of the water, a small
bright fish swam from under the leaves, and
darted across the pool like a quick sun-ray. Never,
even in her dreams, had Eyebright imagined any-
thing like it, and in her delight she gave Genevieve
a great hug, and cried:
Are n't you glad I brought you, dear, and oh,
is n't it beautiful ?"
There were several pools, one above another, and
each higher one seemed more beautiful than the
next below. The very biggest "dahlia" of all-
Anemone was its real name, but Eyebright did not
know that-was in the highest of these pools, and


Eyebright lay so long looking at it and giving it an
occasional tickle with her forefinger to make it open
and shut, that she never noticed how fast the tide
was beginning to pour in. At last, one great wave
rolled up and broke almost at her feet, and she sud-
denly bethought herself that it might be time to go.
Alas! the thought came too late, as in another min-
ute she saw. The rocks at the side, down which
she had climbed, were cut off by deep water. She
hurried across to the other side to see if it were not
possible to get out there; but it was even worse,
and the tide ran after as she scrambled back, and
wetted her ankle before she could gain the place
where she had been sitting before she made this
disagreeable discovery. That was n't safe either,
for pretty soon a splash reached her there, and she
took Genevieve in her arms and climbed up higher
still, feeling like a hunted thing, and as if the sea
were chasing her and would catch her if it possibly
could.
It was a great comfort just then to recollect what
Mr. Downs had said about the cave being safe
enough for people who were caught there by the
tide, "in ordinary weather." Eyebright worried
a little over that word ordinary," but the sun
was shining outside, and she could see its gleam
through the lower waves; the water came in quietly,
which proved that there was n't much wind;
and, altogether, she concluded that there could n't
be anything extraordinary about this particular
day. I think she proved herself a brave little thing,
and sensible, too, to be able to reason this out as
she did and avoid useless fright; but for all her
bravery, she could n't help crying a little as she sat
there like a limpet among the rocks, and realized
that the Oven door was fast shut, and she could n't
get out for ever so many hours. All of a sudden
it came to her quite distinctly how foolish and rash
it was to have come there all alone, without per-
mission from Papa, or letting anybody know of her
intention. It was one comfort that Papa at that


[AUGUST,







1879.] EYEBRIGHT.


moment was in Malachi, and could n't be anxious
about her; but, "Oh dear!" Eyebright thought,
"how dreadfully he would feel if I never did get
out, and he came back and found me gone, and
nobody could tell him where I was. I '11 never do
such a bad, naughty thing again, never,-if I ever
do get out; that is she reflected, as the water
climbed higher and higher, and again she moved
her seat to avoid it, still with the sense of being a
hunted thing which the sea was trying to catch.
Her seat was now too far from the pools for her
to note how the anemones and snails were enjoying
their twice-a-day visit from the tide, how the petals
quivered and widened, the weeds grew brighter,
and the fish darted about with renewed life and
vigor. 1 don't believe it would have been much
comfort to her if she had seen them. Fishes are
unfriendly creatures; they never seem to care any-
thing about human beings, or whether they are
feeling glad or sorry. Genevieve, for all her being


SHE CLIMBED UP HIGHER STILL."

made of wax, was much more satisfactory. What
was particularly nice, she lent Eyebright her blan-
ket-shawl to wear, for the cave had begun to feel
very chilly. The shawl was not large, but it was
better than nothing; and with this round her shoul-
ders, and Dolly cuddled in her arms, she sat on the
very highest ledge of all and watched the water rise.
She could n't go any higher, so she hoped it
could n't either; and as she sat, she sang all the
songs and hymns she knew, to keep her spirits up,
-" Out on an Ocean," Shining Shore" (how
she wished herself on one !), "Rosalie, the Prairie


Flower," "Old Dog Tray," and ever so many
others. It was a very miscellaneous concert, but
did as well for Eyebright and the fishes as the most
classical music could have done; better, perhaps,
for Mozart and Beethoven might have sounded a
little mournful, and songs without words" would
never have answered. Songs with words were
what were wanted in that emergency.
The tide halted at last, after filling the cave
about two-thirds full. Once sure that it had turned
and was going down, Eyebright felt easier, and
could even enjoy herself again. She ate the bread-
and-butter with a good appetite, only wishing there
were more of it, and then made up a delightful
story about robbers and a cave and a princess, in
which she herself played the part of the princess,
who was shut in the cave of an enchanter till a
prince should come and release her through a hole
in the top. By the time that this happened and
the princess was safely out, the uppermost pool was
uncovered, and Eyebright clambered down the wet
rocks and took another long look at it, making
believe" that it was a garden which a good fairy
had planted to amuse the princess; and, indeed,
no fairy could have invented a prettier one. So,
little by little, and following the receding sea, she
was able at last, with a jump and a long step, to
reach the rocky pathway by which she had come
down, and two minutes later she was on top of the
cliff again, and in the sunshine, which felt particu-
larly warm and pleasant. The sun was half-way
down the sky; she had been in the cave almost six
hours, and she knew it must be late in the afternoon.
Neither Mrs. Waurigan nor the party of chil-
dren was visible as she passed the house. They had
probably gone in for tea, and she did not stop to
look them up, for a great longing for home had
seized upon her. The tide delayed her a little
while at the causeway, so that it was past six when
she finally reached the island, and her boots were
wet from the soaked sand; but she did n't mind
that a bit, she was so very glad to be safely there
again. She pulled them off, put on dry stockings
and shoes, made the fire, filled the tea-kettle, set
the table, and, after a light repast of bread and
milk, curled herself up in the rocking-chair for a
long nap, and did not wake till nearly nine, when
Papa came in, having been set ashore by the
schooner's boat as it passed by. He had a large
cod-fish in his hand, swung from a loop of string.
"Well, it has been a nice day," he said, cheer-
fully, rubbing his hands. "The wind .was fair
both ways. We did some fishing, and I caught
this big fellow. I don't know when I have enjoyed
anything so much. What sort of a day have you
had, little daughter ? "
Eyebright began to tell him, but at the same








EVEBRIGHT. ~AUGUST,


time began to cry, which made her story rather
difficult to understand. Mr. Bright looked very
grave when at last he comprehended the danger
she had been in.
I sha'n't dare to go anywhere again," he said.
"I thought I could trust you, Eyebright. I
thought you were too sensible and steady to do
such a wild thing as this. I am very much sur-
prised and very much disappointed."
These words were the heaviest punishment
which F.:-1.i;. 1i could have had, for she was proud
of being trusted and trustworthy. Papa had sat
sighing down and leaned his head on his hand.
All his bright look was overclouded,-the pleasant
day seemed forgotten and almost spoiled. She
felt that it was her fault, and reproached herself
more than ever.
Oh, please don't say that, Papa," she pleaded,
tearfully. "I can be trusted, really and truly I
can. I wont ever go to any dangerous place alone
again, really I wont. Just forgive me this time,
and you'll see how good I '11 be all the rest of my
life."
So Papa forgave her, and she kept her promise,
and never did go off on any thoughtless expedi-
tions again, as long as she lived on Causey Island.

CHAPTER IX.
A LONG YEAR IN A SHORT CHAPTER.

IT was Christmas Eve, and Eyebright, alone in
the kitchen, was hanging up the stockings before
going to bed. Papa, who had a headache, had
retired early, so there was no one to interrupt her.
She only wished there had been. Half the fun of
Christmas seems missing when there is nobody
from whom to keep a secret, no mystery, no hiding
of things in corners and bringing them out at just
the right moment. Very carefully she tied Papa's
stocking to the corner of the chimney, and pro-
ceeded to fill" it; that is, to put in a pair of old
fur gloves which she had discovered in one of the
boxes, and had mended by way of a surprise, and
a small silk bag full of hickory-nut meats, carefully
picked from the shells. These were all the Christmas
gifts she had been able to get for Papa, and the
long gray stocking-leg looked very empty to her
eyes. She had wished much to knit him a com-
forter, but it was three weeks and more since
either of them had been able to get to the village ;
besides which, she knew that Papa felt very poor
indeed, and she did not like to ask for money,
even so little as would have carried out her wish.
" This must do," she said, with a little sigh.
Then she hung up her own stocking, and went
upstairs. Eyebright always had hung up her
stocking on Christmas Eve ever since she could


remember, and she did it now more from the force
of habit than anything else, forgetting that there
was no Wealthy at hand to put things in, and that
they were living on an island which, since winter
began, seemed to have changed its place, and
swung a great deal farther away from things and
people and the rest of the world than it had been.
For winter comes early to the Maine coasts.
Long before Thanksgiving, the ground was white
with snow, and it stayed white from that time on
till spring. After the first heavy storm, the
farmers turned out with snow-plows to break paths
through the village. As more snow fell, it was
shoveled out and thrown on either side of the path,
till the long double mounds half hid the people
who walked between. But there was no one to
break a path along the shore toward the causeway.
The tide, rising and falling, kept a little strip of
sand clear for part of the distance, and on this
Eyebright now and then made her way to the
village. But it was a hard and uncertain walk,
and as rowing the boat was very cold work, it hap-
pened sometimes that for weeks together neither
she nor Papa left the island, or saw anybody except
each other.
This would have seemed very lonely, indeed, had
not the house-work filled up so much of her time.
Papa had no such resource. After the wood was
chopped, and the cow fed, and a little snow
shoveled, perhaps,-that was all. He could not
find pleasure, as Eyebright did, in reading over
and over again a book which he already knew by
heart; the climate did not brace and stimulate
him as it did her; the cold affected him very
much; he moped in the solitude, and time hung
heavily upon his hands.
Eyebright often wondered how they could ever
have got along-or, in fact, if it could have been
possible to get along at all-without their cow. Papa
had bought her in the autumn, when he began to
realize how completely they were to be shut off
from village supplies in bad weather. She was a
good-natured, yellow beast, without any pedigree,
or any name till Eyebright dubbed her Golden
Rod," partly because of her color, and partly
because the field in which she grazed before she
came to them was full of golden-rod, which the
cow was supposed to eat, though I dare say she
did n't. She gave a good deal of milk, not of the
richest quality, for her diet was rather spare, but
it was a great help and comfort to have it. With
milk, potatoes, cabbages, and beets from their own
garden; flour, Indian meal, and a barrel of salt
beef in store, there was no danger of starvation on
Causey Island, though Eyebright at times grew
very tired of ringing the changes on these few
articles of diet, and trying to invent new dishes


EYEBRIGHT.


[AuGust,







EYEBRIGHT.


with which to tempt Papa's appetite, which had
grown very poor since the winter set in.
Altogether, life on the island was a good deal
harder and less pleasant now than it had been in
summer-time, and the sea was a great deal less
pleasant. Eyebright loved it still, but her love
was mingled with fear, and she began to realize
what a terrible thing the ocean can be. The great
gray waves which leaped and roared and flung
themselves madly on the rocks, were so different
from the blue rippling waves of the summer, that
she could hardly believe it the same sea. And
even when pleasant days came, and the waves
grew calm, and the beautiful color returned to the


673


great fierce ocean weighed heavily on Eyebright's
mind sometimes. Especially was this the case
when heavy fogs wrapped the coast, as occasionally
they did for days together, making all landmarks
dangerously dim and indistinct. At such times
it seemed as if Causey Island were a big rocky
lump which had got in the way, and against which
ships were almost certain to run. She wished
very much for a light-house, and she coaxed Papa
to let her keep a kerosene lamp burning in the
window of her bedroom on all foggy and very dark
nights. The little gal's lamp," the Malachi
sailors called it, and they learned to look for it as
a guide, though its reflective power was not enough


"SHE WRAPPED HER ARMS IN HER SHAWL AND WATCHED HIM ROW AWAY.


water, still the other and frightful look of the
ocean remained in her memory, and her bad
dreams were always about storms and shipwrecks.
Many more boats passed between Malachi and
Scrapplehead in winter than in summer. Now
that the inland roads were blocked with snow, and
the Boston steamer had ceased to run, the mails
came that way, being brought over every week in
a sail-boat. Even row-boats passed to and fro in
calm weather, and what with lumber vessels and
fishing-smacks, and an occasional traveler from
out-of-the-way Canada, sails at sea, or the sound
of ii.;. oars off the bathing-beach, became of
frequent occurrence. These little boats out in the


to make it serviceable in a fog, which was the chief
danger of all.
There was no fog, however, when she opened
her eyes on Christmas morning, but a bright sun,
just rising, which was a sort of Christmas present
in itself. She made haste to dress, for she heard
Papa moving in his room, and she wished to get
down first, but he was as quick as she, and they
finally met at the stair-top, and went down to-
gether.
When he saw the stockings, he looked surprised
and vexed.
"Dear me! did you hang up your stocking,
Eyebright?" he asked, in a depressed tone. I


1879.]







EYEBRIGHT.


quite forgot it was Christmas. You '11 have no
presents, my child, I 'm afraid."
" Never mind, Papa, I don't care; I don't want
anything," said Eyebright.
She spoke bravely, but there was a lump in her
throat and she could hardly keep from tears. It
seemed so strange and dreadful not to have any-
thing at all in her stocking,-not one single thing!
She had not thought much about the matter, but
with childish faith had taken it for granted that
she must have something-some sort of a present,
and for a moment the disappointment was hard to
bear.
Papa looked very much troubled, especially
when he spied his own stocking and perceived
that his little daughter had remembered him while
he had forgotten her. He spent the morning
rummaging his desk and the trunks upstairs, as
if in search of something, and after dinner, an-
nounced that he was going to the village to get
the mail. The mails came in to Scrapplehead
twice a week, but he seldom had any letters, and
Eyebright never, so, as a general thing, they were
not very particular about calling regularly at the
post-office.
Eyebright wanted to go too, but the day was
so cold that Papa thought she would better not.
She wrapped him in .every warm thing she could
find, and drew the fur-gloves over his fingers with
great satisfaction.
They will keep you quite warm, wont they? "
she said. "Your fingers would almost freeze with-
out them, would n't they? You like them, don't
you, Papa?"
Very much," said Mr. Bright, giving her a
good-bye kiss.
Then he stepped into the boat and took the
oars, while she wrapped her arms in her shawl and
watched him row away. Her breath froze on the
air like a cloud of white steam. She felt her ears
tingle, and presently ran back to the house, feel-
ing as if Jack Frost were nipping her as she ran,
but with glowing cheeks and spirits brightened by
the splendid air.
Just before sunset Papa came rowing back. He
was almost stiff with cold, but when once he had
thawed out in the warm kitchen, he seemed none
the worse for that. It was quite exciting to hear
from the village after such a long silence. Papa
had seen Mrs. Downs and Mr. Downs and the
children. Benny had had the mumps, but he was
almost well again. Mrs. Downs sent her love to
Eyebright, and a mince-pie pinned up in a towel.
This was very nice, but when Eyebright unpinned
the towel and saw the pie, she gave a scream of
dismay.
Why, Papa, it's all hard," she said, "and it's


just like ice. Touch it, Papa; did you ever feel
anything so cold?"
In fact, the pie was frozen hard, and had to be
thawed for a long time in the oven before it was fit
to eat. While this process was going on, Papa
produced a little parcel from his pocket. It was a
Christmas present,-a pretty blue neck-tie. Eye-
bright was delighted, and showed her gratitude by
kissing Papa at least a dozen times, and dancing
about the kitchen.
Oh, and here 's a letter for you, too," he said.
"A letter for me. How queer I never had a
letter before, that I remember. Why, it's from
Wealthy? Papa, I wish you 'd read it to me. It
looks very hard to make out, Wealthy writes such
a funny hand. Don't you recollect how she used
to work over her copy-book, with her nose almost
touching the paper, and how inky she used to
get?"
It was the first time they had heard from
Wealthy since they left Tunxet, more than eight
months before. Wealthy wrote very few letters,
and those few cost an amount of time, trouble and
ink-spots, which would have discouraged most
people from writing at all.
This was the letter:
DEAR EYEBRIGHT: I take my pen in hand to tell you that I am
well, and hope you are the same. All the friends here is well, except
Miss Berry. She's down with intermitting fever, and old Miss
Beadles is dead and buried. Whether that's being well or not I can't
say. Some folks thinks so, and some folks don't. I haint written
before. I aint much of a scribe, as you know, so I judge you have n't
been surprised at not hearing of me. I might have writ sooner, but
along in the fall my arm was kind of lamed with rheumatism, and
when I got over that, there was Mandy Harmon's weddin' things to
do,-Pelatiah Harmon's daughter, down to the corners, you know.
What girls want so many clothes for when they get married, I can't
for the life of me tell. The shops don't shut up for good just after-
ward, so far as anybody knows, but you'd think they did from the
fuss some of them make. Mandy had five new dresses. They was
cut down to Worcester, but I made them, beside two calikus and ten
of everything, and a double gown and an Ulster and the Lord knows
what not. I 've had to stick to it to put 'ern through, but they 're all
done at last, and she got married last week and went off, and I guess
she '11 spend the next few years a-alterin' of them things over, or I
miss my guess. That Mather girl keeps asking me about you, but
I tell her you haint wrote but twice, and I don't know no more than
she does. Mr. Berry got your Pa's letter. We was glad to hear you
liked it up there, but most places is pleasant enough in summer.
Winter is the tug. I suppose it's cold enough where you are, some-
times, judging from Probbabillities. Mr. Asher has took the house.
Tell your Pa. It don't look much like old times. He has put
wooden points on top of the barn and mended the back gate, and
he's got a nasty Newfoundland which barks most all the time. Now
I must conclude.-Yours truly, WEALTHY A. JUDSON.
P. S.-My respects to your Pa and to all inquiring friends. I was
thinking that that water-proof of your Ma's had betterbe cut over for
you in the spring. What kind of help do you get up in Maine?
"Oh, how like dear, funny old Wealthy that
is!" cried Eyebright, as between smiles and tears
she listened to the reading of this letter. Whom
do you suppose she means by 'all inquiring
friends '? And is n't it just like her to call Bessie
'that Mather girl'? Wealthy never could endure


674


[AUGUST,


_ __







:879.] EYEBRIGHT. 675


Bessie,-I can't imagine why. Well, this has been
a real nice Christmas, after all. I 'm glad you
did n't go to the post-office last week, Papa, for then
we should have got the letter sooner and should n't
have had it for to-day. It was much nicer to have
it now."
Winter 's the tug." Eyebright thought often
of this sentence of Wealthy's as the long weeks
went by, and still the cold continued and the
spring delayed, till it seemed as though it were
never coming at all, and Papa grew thinner and
more listless and discouraged all the time. The
loneliness and want of occupation hurt him more
than it did Eyebright, and when spring came, as
at last it did, his spirits did not revive as she had
hoped they would. Farming was trying and
depressing work on Causey Island. The land was
poor and rocky,-" out of heart," as the saying
is,-and Mr. Bright had neither the spirit nor the
money to bring it into condition. He missed his
old occupation and his old neighbors more than he
had expected; he missed newspapers; and a grow-
ing anxiety about the future, and about Eyebright,
-who was getting no schooling of any kind,-com-
bined to depress him and give him the feeling that
he had dropped out of life, and there was no use
in trying to make things better.
It was certainly a disadvantage to Eyebright, at
her age, to be taken out of school, still life on the
island was a schooling for all that, and schooling
of a very useful kind. History and geography are
excellent things, but no geography or history can
take the place of the lessons which Eyebright was
now learning,-lessons in patience, unselfishness,
good-humor and helpfulness. When she fought
with her own little discontents and vexations, and
kept her face bright and sunny for Papa's sake, she
was gaining more good than she could have done
from the longest chapter in the best school-book
ever printed. Not that the school-books are not
desirable, too, or that Eyebright did not miss
them. After the first novelty of their new life was
over, she missed school very nuch,-not the fun
of school only, but the actual study itself. Her
mind felt as they say teething dogs do, as if it must
have something to bite on. She tried the experi-
ment of setting herself lessons, but it did not suc-
ceed very well. There was no one to explain the
little difficulties that arose, and she grew puzzled
and confused, and lost the desire to go on.
Another thing which she missed very much was
going to church. There had never been either a
church or a Sunday-school in Scrapplehead, and
the people who made any difference for Sunday
made it by idling about, which was almost worse
than working. At first, Eyebright tried to ob-
serve the day after a fashion, by learning a hymn


and studying a short Bible lesson, but such good
habits drop off after a while, when there is nothing
and nobody to remind or help us, and little by
little she got out of the way of keeping it up, and
sometimes quite forgot that it was Sunday till
afterward. Days were much alike on the island,
especially in winter, and it was not easy to remem-
ber, which must be her excuse; but it was a sad
want in her week, and a want which was continu-
ally growing worse as she grew older.
Altogether, it was not a good or wholesome life
for a child to lead, and only her high spirits and
sweet, healthful temper kept her from being seri-
ously hurt by it. It was just now that Mr. Joyce's
words were proved true, and the quick power of
imagination with which nature had gifted her
became her best friend. It enabled her to take
sights and sounds into the place of play-fellows and
friends, mixing them with her life as it were, and
half in fun, half in earnest, getting companionship
out of them. Skies and sunsets, flowers, waves,
birds,-all became a part of the fairy-world which
lay always at hand, and to which her mind went
for change and rest from work too hard and
thoughts over-anxious for a child to bear. She
was growing fast, but the only signs she gave of
growing older were her womanly and thoughtful
ways about Papa and his comforts, and a slight,
very slight, difference in her feeling toward Gene-
vieve, whom she played with no longer, though
she took her out now and then when she was quite
alone, and set her in a chair opposite, as better
than no company at all. Eyebright had no idea
of being disloyal to this dear old friend, but her
eyes had opened to the fact that Genevieve was
only wax, and do what she could, it was impossible
to make her seem alive any more.
Her rapid growth was another trouble, for she
could not wear the clothes which she had brought
with her to the island, and it was very hard to get
others. Papa had no money to spare, she knew,
and she could not bear to worry him with her diffi-
culties, so she went to Mrs. Downs instead. Mrs.
Downs had her hands full of sewing for "him"
and her three boys; still she found time to advise
and help, and between her fitting and Eyebright's
sewing, a skirt and jacket were concocted out of
the water-proof designated by Wealthy, which,
though rather queer in pattern, did nicely for cool
days, and relieved Eyebright from the long-legged
sensation which' was growing over her. This,
with a calico, some of Mrs. Bright's underclothing
altered a little, and a sun-bonnet with a deep cape,
made a tolerable summer outfit. Gloves, ruffles,
ribbons and such little niceties, she learned to do
without, and when the sweet summer came again
with long days and warm winds, when she could







MORE UN-NATURAL HISTORY.


row, sit out-doors as much as she liked, and swing ering, and knew that she dreaded it very much
in the wild-grape hammocks which festooned the indeed.
shore, she did not miss them. Girls on desert How long it will seem!" she thought. "And
islands can dispense with finery, how will poor Papa bear it? And what am I to do
But summers in Maine are very short, and, as when all Mamma's old clothes are worn out? I
lengthening days and chilly nights began to hint don't suppose I ever shall have any new ones, and
at coming winter, Eyebright caught herself shiv- how I am to manage, I cannot imagine "
(To be continued.)





MORE UN-NATURAL HISTORY.

(See Letter-Box.)


N\ Y /.



-_ ,,, :. -





.. .. ,
A'L'

- --


- r


PRICKLY-PLUM D1GGER, OR TURBULENT OYSTER-BIRD.

S ~~^


"%


.* .
^"*'Ir ";


-' ii


/:


THE STILTED SCYTHROPS, OR ORO-EYED OYSTER-BIRD.


NORTH-AMERICAN BLUNDERBORE, OR BLUNDERING BUZZ-FUZZ.
(SOMEWHAT MAGNIFIED.)


ANSINUM SCOOPIANA, OR CALLOUS CRAB-FISHER.



'.


[AUGUST,








NAN, THE NEWSBOY. 677


TWO WAYS OF SEEING.

BY MARGARET VANDEGRIFT.

" THE blossoms fall, the pretty spring-flowers die,
The first fair grass is ready for the mowing;
The grub has swallowed up the butterfly,
And everything that is n't gone is going !"

The tiny apples cluster on the bough;
The bees have gone to work, instead of humming;
The seed is up, where lately ran the plow,
And everything that has n't come is coming!

" The birds have ceased their merry spring-tide lay;
No more the blackbird on the tree-top whistles;
The frogs no longer croak at close of day,
And thorns are where the down was on the thistles."

The birds don't think they have the time to sing;
The blackbird has to feed his wife and babies;
You '11 see what Summer's making out of Spring-
The woods and fields and trees are.full of may-be's.

Courage Look up The spirit of the spring
Should long outlast and overlive the letter;
Change means advance, in almost everything,
And good don't die-it only turns to better.





NAN, THE NEWSBOY.

BY W. H. BISHOP.


NAN, the Newsboy, is among the latest of the
odd characters which spring i4to fame from time
to time out of the varied life of the great city of
New York. A year ago he formed a little band,
consisting of himself and two others, to patrol the
East River docks at night and rescue persons from
drowning.
Some charitable persons heard of the boys, gave
them a floating station to live in, boats, neat blue
uniforms, and a small weekly salary to devote
their whole time to the work.
Nan's real name is William J. O'Neil. He is a
thorough street Arab in his manners, and uses
the dialect common among ragged newsboys and
boot-blacks.
The regulations by which the association should


be governed, according to his idea, are few and
simple. As jotted down with other matters in
his rough log-book, they are:
I. Members shall do whatever the president
orders them.
2. No one shall be a member who drinks or
gets drunk.
3. Any members not down in Dover dock, and
miss one night except in sickness, shall be fined
fifty cents by order of the president.
4. No cursing allowed.
Spelling is not Nan's strong point, and I have
taken the liberty to arrange this according to the
usual custom. Nor does he keep records in a
scientific manner. Case four, il his list of rescued,
sets down only "A Jew boy." Case five is "A


NAN, THE NEWSBOY.


677







678


[AUGUST,


NAN, THE NEWSBOY.


.red-headed boy who fell in the water, but could for preserdent. We thought we might as well be
not find his name." doin' that as loafin' on corners."
The first meeting of the association took place Might as well be brave and humane fellows, that
one pleasant day in June, 1878. is, as idle and dangerous loungers I Yes, indeed


(Kelly.) (Long.) (Nan.)
THE NEW YORK VOLUNTEER LIFE-SAVING CORPS IN UNIFORM.


"We was a-sittin' on Dover dock," Nan says,
"tellin' stories. We got talking' about how a body
was took out 'most every day, and some said two
hundred was took out in a year. We'd cheered
about life-savin' on the Jersey coast, too. So I
says: Say we makes a' 'sociation of it, boys, for
to go along the docks pickin' 'em up regular.'
'All right!' they says, and they nomernates me


they might, and this modest way of putting it is
infinitely to Nan's credit.
The pictures of the three give their appearance
correctly, so I need not describe them. Nan has a
rosy complexion and a serious manner. He has
sold papers almost ever since he can remember.
Edward Kelly is paler and slighter, and has quite
a decided air of dignity. Gilbert Long is sun-







NAN, THE NEWSBOY.


browned, and has a merry twinkle in his eye. He
looks as if likely to be the most recklessly per-
sistent of the lot in any dangerous straits. The
three boys all were born in Cherry street. Long
has been a tin-smith's apprentice, and Kelly a
leather-cutter.
They have with them also five unpaid volunteers
who serve at night. The force is divided into
three patrols.
Cherry street and its vicinity abound in tene-
ments, sailor boarding-houses and drinking saloons.
The upper part of South street is a kind of
breathing-place for this squalid quarter. It is
much favored by idle urchins especially, who find
a hundred ways to amuse themselves among the
boxes and bales. A breeze blows from the water
across the edge of the dusty, coffee-colored piers,
and gives a breath of fresh air.
The fish-dock and the old dirt "-dock in Peck
Slip on summer evenings are white with the figures
of bathers. Often, too, even when the law was
more stringent against it than now, they found
means to swim in the day-time. They wrestle and
tumble over one another, remain in the water for
hours, swim across the swift stream to Brooklyn
and back, and dive to the muddy bottom for coins
thrown to them by spectators.
This was the training-school of our life-savers.
Accidents were very frequent here, and the boys
made many rescues without thinking much of them.
Their house is a little box of a place, painted
bright blue, moored under the shade of the great
Brooklyn bridge, and close to both the Fulton and
Roosevelt street ferries. The front door of the
establishment, as it might .be called, is through a
hole in a dilapidated fence; then down a ladder,
and perhaps across a canal-boat or two to where
it lies wedged in in- the crowded basin. They
have a row-boat, and a life-saving raft of the
catamaran pattern.
Inside, the station has three bunks, some lockers
to hold miscellaneous articles, a small stove in a cor-
ner, and a small case of books contributed by the
Seaman's Friend Society. These are largely ac-
counts of courage and ingenuity in danger likely
to be appreciated by boys in their circumstances.
When they unbend after duty is over, Nan plays
the banjo and what he calls the "cordeen," and
there is quite a social time.
But it is drawing on toward seven o'clock, and
we are to make the rounds to-night. The volun-
teers begin to drop in. They are shy at first at
finding strangers present, but soon begin to thaw
out and deliver their views freely. There is Dick
Harrington, who works at sail-making; Peter
Hayes, a tinker; Bony" Hayes,-Nan thinks
this stands for Bonaparte or Bonanza, he is not


679


sure which,-a porter; "Thomas Cody, a printer;
and Jos. Findlay, whose business is to count papers
in a newspaper office.
Harrington is not beyond a boyish blush; Peter
Hayes is inclined to be a little boastful; Bony "
Hayes is something of a philosopher, and claims
to have seen a good deal of life while fishing for
eels off the docks; Findlay enjoys the distinction






I'






'-4
I .


M4



















li


of having made a specialty of frustrating suicides,
and Cody, from the line of business he is in, is
spoken of as pretty dedicated "
The apparatus taken along consists of boat-
hooks, life-lines, an iron ladder, folding up neatly
like a camp-stool, and lanterns. The life-line is a
common cord, about twenty-five feet long, with a
small billet of wood attached to the end to be
thrown to the person in the water.
We do not have the luck to see a genuine case
to-night. Up we go along the strange river front
to the foot of Montgomery street, then down to
the Battery, perhaps two miles in a straight line.
How imposingly the vast black hulls stand Pup
against the sky The water clucks and chuckles
to itself, as if with a secret cruel humor, under the
planks on which we walk. Whoever is drifted by







NAN, THE NEWSBOY.


the tide in under there, where the rays of the dark
lantern will not penetrate, is lost indeed.
The vicinity of the ferries is where there are the
most bustling crowds, the water's edge is the most
easily reached, and the principal liability to acci-
dents exists. At Pier Two, near the South Ferry,
where their station was then moored, Kelly and
Long, at half-past two of a winter's morning, heard
a cry. They ran out, explored, but could see


attempting to walk straight across the open
Coenties Slip, or to the lights of Brooklyn, forgetful
of the water, or others lain down to sleep on the
string-pieces of the piers.
The suicides are generally intoxicated, too.
Those who are not go out upon the ferry-boats,
perhaps to make surer work of it. It is a strange
experience to hear one of these boys tell how he
found a middle-aged woman on the edge of the


NAN SAVES THREE BOYS FROM DROWNING.


nothing. Coming back, two hands were dis-
cerned projecting despairingly out of the ice-
cakes. With a boat and the aid of their New-
foundland dog, Rover, they drew the man out.
They found him to be a longshoremann, who had
walked over the edge while intoxicated.
This is a very common story. The larger part
of the rescued, or those assisted before they have a
chance to come to harm,-for the boys make this
a praiseworthy part of their occupation, too,-are
of a similar sort. They are sailors searching in a
dazed way for their ships, persons of low condition


pier, prayin' and looking' up at the sky;" how she
"made a bounce" and he "grabbed" her, and
how he advised her, when she groaned that she
had been robbed of her money and clothes and
wanted to die, to "just go right home and don't
bother no more about it."
These are lives so long steeped in the dregs of
wretchedness as to be almost tiresome to their
owners, because they are so hopeless.
Then there are the careless children, for whom
there are regular seasons. Many such rescues
happen in the spring when the little folk begin to


680


[AUGUST,


~--L I-_I __







NAN, THE NEWSBOY.


play on the loose logs and rafts in the basins with
the first fine weather, but the majority occur in
the summer bathing-time.
The grown people are shy of giving their names,


transferred it to a cousin, thus keeping it still in
the family. We talk with the watchman on a tall
British bark in the India trade. Then we pick up
a tramp, stowed away in a dangerous place by the


SAVING A MAN BY SWIMMING ON THE BACK.


or making any stir about their preservers, through
shame at the condition they were in. The chil-
dren often have a wholesome fear of further pun-
ishment at home, should they return dripping'and
their whereabouts at the time be known.
Frequently some sad victim of a boy, as he might
be thought, just drawn from death's door, may be
seen playing gayly at tag, waiting for his clothes
which are spread out to dry in the sun.
Nan had saved eight persons, Long six, and
Kelly four, before the association; 'as formed, and
Nan had received a silver medal from the United
States Life Saving A- : .:..:- t..,o.
His most gallant case was the rescue of three
young men overturned from a row-boat by collision
with the Harlem steamer off Eleventh street. He
was selling his papers on the dock at the time.
When his notice was attracted to the accident, he
at once threw the papers down and plunged in.
He was taken out himself in a drowning condition.
"When you drowns," he says, speaking feel-
ingly from experience, "not a thing you ever did
but it comes up in your head. Then, may be, after
that, you hear a kin' o' noise like music in your
ears."
Long's best case was the saving of a son of Police
Sergeant Webb's in Dover dock, and Kelly's of a
boy at Bay Ridge, who drew him down twice in
the effort.
We stop to see the shelf, turned up against the
side of the shed on the Harlem pier, which was
Nan's place of business in former times. He has
VOL. VI.-46.


Bridge-street ferry, and hand him over to the
police, who receive him grumbling.
The boys are sorry that we do not have a chance
to see them in the actual heat of their occupation,
They offer, if we wish, to go through the form of
a rescue, by having one-of their own number fall
in and two others get him out. We do not, of
course, accept so barbarous a test of hardihood, for
it is early spring and 'the water is icy cold. We
are satisfied to hear from them their manner of
doing it.
The life-line is thrown as near the sinking per-
son as possible.- Two of the patrol go into the
water. One puts the line about the subject with a
" half-hitch," the other helps support him to land.
If he struggle and seize the rescuer so as to endan-
ger both, the latter sinks a little, when the drown-
ing man lets go his hold in alarm. In some cases
it has been necessary to strike him, so as to render
him partly insensible.
The drowning person is always to be approached
from behind, turned upon his back, and drawn in
by the hair, the rescuer swimming on his back
also. This plan is recommended by the best
authorities, and it may be well for some of our
young readers to bear it in mind.
These young fellows have had the odd expe-
rience of seeing themselves and their work repre-
sented on the stage. They went to see, at one of
the cheap down-town theaters, a sensational piece
entitled Nan, the Newsboy," which was acted to
the satisfaction of quite a large audience.


p~ -


-C ---

-~ ~ I. -


ri1)~


ii :


~i
...... .~"~;~~


SAVING A -AN B.SIMIGO ;l A






AGAMEMNON'S CAREER.


The boys speak of this play with great disgust.
"It was the richest life-savin' I ever see," says Nan.
" They had me in it, and me mother in it, and all
of uz. There was a woman, and she had n't not
no more than lost her baby when I steps up and
says, Here 's yer baby, mississ.'
'"Then there was river pirates and a milliner.
A girl she come singin' down the docks about
twelve o'clock at night. There aint no girls comes
singin' around us. The river pirates they stabbed
the girl and throwed her in. Then there was
another one throwed in. We had all three of 'em
out in five minutes. The feller what was supposed
to be me was about thirty years old. The one
what looked like Kelly he had a mustache."
A glance at the smooth countenance of Kelly, so
innocent of any such decoration, showed this to be
an error quite worthy of the vigorous way in which
it was found fault with.
The account given of the way rescued persons


behave after their rescue is not at all favorable.
Gratitude is said to be the last thing they think of.
Often there is positive abuse. If a hat be lost dur-
ing the confusion, as is of course not uncommon,
this trifling mishap drives everything else from
their minds.
It is clear that it is not the interesting characters
of the persons saved by which Nan and his mates
are inspired. Nor does it seem an unusual benev-
olence of disposition on their part. It is a bold
delight in the danger, the hardship, the skill of the
thing for itself. Plenty of the same sort of ambi-
tion is perverted to the worst uses, and this makes
it especially gratifying to find it so worthily em-
ployed.
Whatever may become of his experiment in the
end, Nan, the Newsboy, in choosing so high and
humane an aim in life, instead of drifting, as he so
easily might, into the usual courses of the loafers
on corners, has set a useful and noble example.


AGAMEMNON'S CAREER.

BY LUCRETIA P. HALE.


THERE had apparently been some mistake in
Agamemnon's education. He had been to a num-
ber of colleges, indeed, but he had never com-
pleted his course in any one. He had .-.r;...ii.
fallen into some difficulty with the authorities. It
was singular, for he was of an inquiring mind, and
had always tried to find out what would be ex-
pected of him, but had never hit upon the right
thing.
Solomon John thought the trouble might be in
what they called the elective system, where you
were to choose what study you would take. This
had always bewildered Agamemnon a good deal.
And how was a feller to tell," Solomon John
had asked, whether he wanted to study a thing,
before he tried it? It might turn out awful hard !"
Agamemnon had always been fond of reading
from his childhood up. He was at his book all
day long. Mrs. Peterkin had imagined he would
come out a great scholar, because she could never
get him away from his books.
And so it was in his colleges ; he was always to
be found in the library, reading and reading. But
they were always the wrong books.
For instance: the class were required to prepare
themselves on the Spartan war. This turned Aga-
memnon's attention to the Fenians, and to study


the subject, he read up on "Charles O'Malley"
and Harry Lorrequer," and some later novels of
the sort, which did not help him on the subject
required, and yet took up all his time, so that he
found himself quite unfitted for anything else when
the examinations came. In consequence, he was
requested to leave.
Agamemnon always missed in his recitations, for
the same reason that Elizabeth Eliza did not get
on in school, because he was always asked the
questions he did not know. It seemed provoking;
if the professors had only asked something else !
But they always hit upon the very things he had
not studied up.
Mrs. Peterkin felt this was encouraging, for
Agamemnon knew the things they did not know
in colleges. In colleges, they were willing to take
for students only those who already knew certain
things. She thought Agamemnon might be a
professor in a college for those students who did n't
know those things.
"I suppose these professors could not have
known a great deal," she added, "or they would
not have asked you so many questions; they
would have told you something."
Agamemnon had left another college on account
of a mistake he had made with some of his class-


___ _~__~____


682


[AUGUST,








AGAMEMNON'S CAREER.


mates. They had taken a great deal of trouble to
bring some wood from a distant wood-pile to make
a bonfire with, under one of the professors' win-
dows. Agamemnon had felt it would be a compli-
ment to the professor.
It was with bonfires that heroes had been
greeted on their return from successful wars. In
this way, beacon-lights had been kindled upon
lofty heights, that had inspired mariners seeking
their homes after distant adventures. As he
plodded back and forward, he imagined himself
some hero of antiquity. He was reading "Plu-
tarch's Lives with deep interest. This had been
recommended at a former college, and he was now
taking it up in the midst of his French course. He
fancied, even, that some future Plutarch was grow-
ing up in Lynn, perhaps, who would write of this
night of suffering and glorify its heroes.
For himself, he took a severe cold and suffered
from chilblains, in consequence of going back and
forward through the snow carrying the wood.
But the flames of the bonfire caught the blinds
of the professor's room, and set fire to the build-
ing, and came near burning up the whole institu-
tion. Agamemnon regretted the result as much
as his predecessor, who gave him his name, must
have regretted that other bonfire on the shores of
Aulis, that deprived him of a daughter.
The result for Agamemnon was that he was
requested to leave, after having been in the institu-
tion but a few months.
He left another college in consequence of a mis-
understanding about the hour for morning prayers.
He went every day regularly at ten o'clock, but
found, afterward, that he should have gone at half-
past six. This hour seemed to him and to Mrs.
Peterkin unseasonable, at a time of year when
the sun was not up, and he would have been
obliged to go to the expense of candles.
Agamemnon was always willing to try another
college, wherever he could be admitted. He
wanted to attain knowledge, however it might be
found. But, after going to five, and leaving each
before the year was out, he gave it up.
He determined to lay out the money, that would
have been expended in a collegiate education, in
buying an encyclopedia, the most complete that
he could find, and to spend his life in studying it
systematically. He would not content himself
with merely reading it, but he would study into
each subject as it came up, and perfect himself
in that subject. By the time, then, that he had
finished the encyclopedia, he should have embraced
all knowledge, and have experienced much of it.
The family were much interested in this plan
of making practice of every subject that came up.
He did not, of course, get on very fast in this


way. In the second column of the very first page,
he met with A as a note in music. This led him
to the study of music. He bought a flute, and
took some lessons, and attempted to accompany
Elizabeth Eliza on the piano. This, of course,
distracted him from his work on the encyclopedia.
But he did not wish to return to A until he felt
perfect in music. This required a long time.
Then in this same paragraph a reference was
made; in it he was requested to "see Keys." It
was necessary, then, to turn to "Keys." This was
about the time the family were moving, which we
have mentioned, when the difficult subject of
keys came up, that suggested to him his own sim-
ple invention, and the hope of getting a patent for
it. This led him astray, as inventions before have
done with master minds, so that he was drawn
aside from his regular study.
The family, however, were --..:1.1:. satisfied
with the career Agamemnon had chosen. It
would help them all in any path of life, if he
should master the encyclopedia in a thorough way.
Mr. Peterkin agreed it would in the end be not
so expensive as a college course, even if Agamem-
non should buy all the different encyclopedias that
appeared. There would be no "spreads" in-
volved, no expenses of receiving friends at. enter-
tainments in college; he could live at home, so
that it would not be necessary to fit up another
room as at .. ii.- At all the times of his leaving,
he had sold out favorably to other occupants.
Solomon John's destiny was more uncertain.
He was looking forward to being a doctor some-
time, but he had not decided whether to be allo-
pathic or homeopathic, or whether he would not
better invent his own pills. And he could not
understand how to obtain his doctor's degree.
For a few weeks he acted as clerk in a druggist's
store. But he could serve only in the tooth-brush
and soap department, because it was found he was
not familiar enough with the Latin language to
compound the drugs. He agreed to spend his
evenings in studying the Latin grammar, but his
course was interrupted by his being dismissed for
treating the little boys too frequently to soda.
The little boys were going through the schools
regularly. The family had been much exercised
with regard to their education. Elizabeth Eliza
felt that everything should be expected of them-
they ought to take advantage from the family mis-
takes. Every new method that came up was tried
upon the little boys. They had been taught spell-
ing by all the different systems, and were just able
to read when Mr. Peterkin learned that it was now
considered best that children should not be taught
to read till they were ten years old.
Mrs. Peterkin was in despair. Perhaps if their


LII I







AGAMEMNON'S CAREER.


books were taken from them even then, they
might forget what they had learned. But no, the
evil was done, the brain had received certain im-
pressions that could not be blurred over.
This was long ago, however. The little boys
had since entered the public school. They went
also to a gymnasium, and a whittling school, and
joined a class in music, and another in dancing;
they went to some afternoon lectures for children,
when there was no other school, and belonged to
a walking club. Still Mr. Peterkin was dissatisfied
by the slowness of their progress. He visited the
schools himself, and found that they did not lead
their classes. It seemed to him a great deal of
time was spent in things that were not instructive,
such as putting on and taking off their India rub-
ber boots.
Elizabeth Eliza proposed that they should be
taken from school and taught by Agamemnon
from the encyclopedia. The rest of the family
might help in the education at all hours of the day.
Solomon John could take up the Latin grammar,
and she could give lessons in French.
The little boys were enchanted with the plan,
only they did not want to have the study-hours all
the time.
Mr. Peterkin, however, had a magnificent idea,
that they should make their life one grand Object
Lesson. They should begin at breakfast, and
study everything put upon the table,-the material
of which it was made, and where it came fr6m.
In the study of the letter A, Agamemnon had
embraced the study of music, and from one meal
they might gain instruction enough for a day.
We shall have the assistance," said Mr. Peter-
kin, of Agamemnon with his encyclopedia."
Agamemnon modestly suggested that he had
not yet got out of A, and in their first breakfast
everything would therefore have to begin with A.
"That would not be impossible," said. Mr.
Peterkin. There is Amanda, who will wait on
table, to start with- "
"We could have .'am-and-eggs," suggested
Solomon John.
Mrs. Peterkin was distressed. It was hard
enough to think of anything for breakfast, and
impossible if it all had to begin with one letter !
Elizabeth Eliza thought it would not be neces-
sary. All they were to do was to ask questions,
as in examination papers, and find their answers
as they could. They could still apply to the
encyclopedia, even if it were not in Agamemnon's
alphabetical course.
Mr. Peterkin suggested a great variety. One
day they would study the botany of the breakfast-
table, another day its natural history. The study
of butter would include that of the cow. Even


that of the butter-dish would bring in geology.
The little boys were charmed at the idea of learn-
ing pottery from the cream-jug, and they were
promised a potter's wheel directly.
You see, my dear," said Mr. Peterkin to his
wife, before many weeks, we shall be drinking
our milk from jugs made by our children."
Elizabeth Eliza hoped for a thorough study.
"Yes," said Mr. Peterkin, "we might begin
with botany. That would be near to Agamemnon
alphabetically. We ought to find out the botany
of butter. On what does the cow feed ?"
The little boys were eager to go out and see.
If she eats clover," said Mr. Peterkin, we
shall expect the botany of the clover."
The little, boys insisted that they were to begin
the next day; that very evening they should go
out and study the cow.
Mrs. Peterkin sighed, and decided she would
order a simple breakfast. The little boys took
their note-books and pencils, and clambered upon
the fence, where they seated themselves in a row.
For there were three little boys. So it was now
supposed. They were always coming in or going
out, and it had been difficult to count them, and
nobody was very sure how many there were.
There they sat, however, on the fence, looking
at the cow. She looked at them with large eyes.
" She wont eat," they cried, "while we are look-
ing at her !" So they turned about, and pretended
to look into the street, and seated themselves
that way, turning their heads back to see the cow.
Now she is nibbling a clover."
No, that is a bit of sorrel."
It 's a whole handful of grass !"
What kind of grass?" they exclaimed.
It was very hard, sitting with their backs to the
cow, and pretending to the cow that they were
looking into the street, and yet to. be looking at
the cow all the time, and finding out what she was
eating; and the upper rail of the fence was narrow
and a little sharp. It was very high, too, for some
additional rails had been put on to prevent the
cow from jumping into the garden or street.
Suddenly, looking out into the hazy twilight,
Elizabeth Eliza saw six legs and six India rubber
boots in the air, and the little boys disappeared !
They are tossed by the cow The little boys
are tossed by the cow !" she exclaimed.
Mrs. Peterkin rushed for the window, but fainted
on the way. Solomon John and Elizabeth Eliza
were hurrying to the door, but stopped, not know-
ing what to do next. Mrs. Peterkin recovered
herself with a supreme effort, and sent them out
to the rescue.
But what could they do ? The fence had been
made so high, to keep the cow out, that nobody


[AUGUST,







THE PARTY.


could get in. The boy that did the ... II -1 had
gone off with the key of the outer gate, and per-
haps with the key of the shed-door. Even if that
were not locked, before Agamemnon could get
round by the wood-shed and cow-shed the little
boys might be gored through and through !
Elizabeth Eliza ran to the neighbors, Solomon
John to the di 1;i D for plasters, while Agamem-
non made his way through the dining-room to the
wood-shed and outer-shed door. Mr. Peterkin
mounted the outside of the fence, while Mrs.
Peterkin begged him not to put himself in danger.
He climbed high enough to view the scene. He
held to the corner post and reported what he saw.
They were not gored. The cow was at the other
end of the lot. One of the little boys was lying
in a bunch of dark leaves. He was moving.


The cow glared, but did not stir. Another little
boy was pulling his India rubber boots out of the
mud. The cow still looked at him. Another was
feeling the top of his head. The cow began to
crop the grass, still looking at him.
Agamemnon had reached, had opened, the shed-
door. The little boys were next seen running
toward it.
A crowd of neighbors with pitchforks had re-
turned meanwhile with Elizabeth Eliza. Solomon
John had brought four druggists. But, by the time
they had reached the house, the three little boys
were safe in the arms of their mother !
This is too dangerous a form of education,"
she cried; I had rather they went to school."
No!" they bravely cried. They were still
willing to try the other way.


HASTE to the party, out in the yard,
And don't forget to carry your card.
The hens are dressed in their very best,
To receive some peacocks just from the West.
Put on your gloves and take a fan,
And make the best display you can.







686


WILLIE was eight years old and the owner of a
pony,-a black pony with a long tail, and the
whitest of white stars on his forehead.
One pleasant summer day, Willie saddled the
pony and started off for his usual ride to the beau-
tiful water-fall that he so loved to look at. Here
he would always stop to give Major a drink, and


Suddenly he sprang to his feet with an exclama-
tion of joy, and cried:
Why, how stupid of me Here is Major, who
will take me through in the twinkling of an eye !
Come, my beauty don't eat any more I You
shall taste sweeter grass than ever you have dreamed
of, if you take me through the water-fall "


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green grass, and then seated himselt on a stone
beneath a tall elm-tree, to watch the water as it
thundered on its way.
How it did rush, and roar, and bubble, and
foam And as he watched it he began to wonder
what was back of it! If he only could get through
the sheet of water, and see what was on the other
side I The more he thought, the more he became
convinced that back of that silvery sheet was either
Fairy-land or Giant-land; and that if he could get
through he would see all the wonderful things he
had heard of and read about.


Just hear the watei gowl at us" said Willier
'L tS >, ".I':7






and forced the
pony into the water, and galloped ahead to where
the white foam hissed and boiled its very worst.
"Just hear the water growl at us !" said Willie
patting the pony's neck. It tries to frighten us
out of it, but we are not afraid! Here we are in
the white foam, and now we go through the water-
fall! Why, it 's nothing at all to do! Why did
n't we ever go through before! Ho!-Now; let
me see where I am "
Major stood still at the word. The water was
running off himt and his master in streams, but


BACK OF THE WATER-FALL.



BACK OF THE WATER-FALL.
(A Fish Fairy Tale.)

BY ADELAIDE F. SAMUELS.


[AUGUST,







BACK OF THE WATER-FALL.


neither of them seemed to mind it. Willie saw at
a glance that he was in a large stone passage that
echoed and re-echoed the noise of the falls behind
him. At the opposite end of the passage was an
arch-like opening, and toward this he urged the
pony.
On arriving under the arch, he stopped short,
and looked around him in wonder. He was at the
entrance of a vast hall, the walls of which glistened
and refracted the light in many-colored rays, to
such an extent that it made his eyes ache which-
ever way he turned them. This brilliancy, he
afterward learned, was due to the fish-scales that
covered the walls.
In various attitudes upon the floor, some talking
and others fanning themselves with their tails, were
a great number of fishes, who appeared to have
met to discuss some important subject. As soon
as they discovered the presence of Willie and his
pony, however, they all sprang upon their tails,
spread out their fins, and looked at him in open-
mouthed wonder.
"The centaur!" said one. Then "The cen-
taur the centaur !" was heard in every part of the
hall, as the others took up the cry.
Do you come as a friend, or as a foe?"
demanded a great speckled trout, who appeared to
be the leader.
As a friend," replied Willie.
"Very good. Had you said 'foe,' I should have
flooded the hall in the flap of a fin, and right soon
would you have been food for us But as you have
come as a friend, perhaps you will tell us how to
settle the question we were discussing when you
entered ?"
"First tell me," said the boy, "how you can live
here ? I thought fish could live only under water."
We are under water; do you not hear it over
our heads?"
Very true," said Willie; I did not think of
that. Now," continued he, driving the pony into
their midst, what is the question you want me to
decide?"
"We want you to tell us how to know good flies
from bad flies, and good worms from bad worms."
Oh, is that all? I should think any one could
tell that."
"How?" "How?" "How?4 came eagerly
from the wide-open mouths of all the fishes, as
they stood on their tails around him.
By the looks of them, of course," replied he;
and he seemed inclined to laugh at their igno-
rance, but was prevented by his astonishment at
their eager tones and queer attitudes and gestures.
No, but we can't; for the bad ones look as
well as the good ones, as far as we can see."
Well then, by the taste."


687


"You are no wiser than we, Centaur, or you
would know that we must not even taste of the bad
ones !" said the leader, angrily.
Then how do you know they are bad?"
"We don't know, until one of us is so unfort-
unate as to eat a bad fly or worm, when he imme-
diately disappears, and we never see him again. I
had a narrow escape myself, once. I barely nib-
bled at one, and as it tasted sharp I let go of it;
but a friend happened to be swimming past at the
moment, and he took it before I could warn him,
and I have never seen him since."
Oh, now I know what you mean," said Willie;
" you mean you get caught. All you will have to
do is to notice if the flies or worms-- "
Hear hear !" called out the fish, impatiently,
for Willie had paused, without making them any
wiser.
The boy had suddenly remembered how his
father delighted to fish in the stream outside, and
how he had said that very morning that he had
invited a party of friends to fish on the morrow.
How disappointed they all would be if not a fish
was to be caught, as would be the result if he
should warn those around him of the hooks and
lines No; he would not spoil his father's amuse-
ment; the fish must still go .on taking their
chances.
"Why don't you finish?" cried the great
speckled trout, warmly.
"I cannot tell you," replied Willie.
"Cannot tell us ? Why, you were just about to !
You mean you will not," thundered the trout,
starting up from his seat.
It 's all the same," said Willie, turning the
pony's head, with the intention of getting away
from the angry, great-mouthed things as soon as
possible; but what was his astonishment, on look-
ing for the arch through which he had entered, to
find it nowhere visible On every side, nothing
was to be seen but the dazzling, scale-covered
walls! There was no opening even above, the
walls letting through all the light there was.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the great speckled
trout, and Ha ha ha !" echoed all the others.
" Fishes are not the only things that get caught;
Ha! ha! ha! Now will you tell us how to know
good flies from bad flies, and good worms from
bad worms?" And he reseated himself with much
dignity.
Willie began to feel uncomfortable. What if
they should flood the hall, as no doubt they were
capable of doing? It was closely shut every-
where, he knew. There would be no escape for
him; he would surely drown.
Perhaps," thought he, "I can induce them to
open the passage; if they do, I will put Major







BACK OF THE WATER-FALL.


through the water-fall quicker than he came in.
How can I tell you the difference unless you let me
out into the stream where I can see?" continued
he, aloud.
"Sure enough; how can he?" said two or
three; and murmurs arose throughout the hall,
among the rest of the fishes.
"Friends, do not be deceived said the great
speckled trout, standing erect on his tail, and giv-
ing his fins a flap upward. If he once gets into
the stream, he can escape us. He can tell here.
He was about to tell, but, for some reason, he
stopped short. We must not lose this chance to
learn what for years we have sought in vain to
know, and what concerns the welfare of every one
of us." Then turning to Willie, he continued:
"Now, Centaur, we await your pleasure."
I am not a centaur," said Willie, hotly; I 'm
a boy, and this is my horse, Major. I should think
you could see that well enough."
":Don't think you can deceive us, Centaur; we
are not so ignorant as not to know what a buoy is.
There are many of them in the great lake above,
where we came from. And as for that being a
horse- I But you shall learn that we know
what a horse is, too. Silence, in the hall! Is
Horse-Crab here ?"
At the words, a large horse-crab came rattling
over the stone floor, out of a corner.
He does n't know what .you are; teach him,"
commanded the great speckled trout, waving one
of his fins imperiously.
.At that, the crab fixed his wicked little eyes on
Willie's face, and, rattling up, seized Major's hind
leg in his claw, for a second only; for the pony
reared, and snorted, and then gave a kick that
sent Horse-Crab flying against the wall with force
enough to crack his shell.
Perhaps you have another you would like to
let try?" said Willie, enjoying the look of amaze-
ment visible on the faces of all the fishes.
"Where is Sword-Fish?" at length cried the
speckled trout in a voice full of rage and conster-
nation. Why is he not on the spot to avenge
poor Horse-Crab's wrongs?"
"Alas said a sword-fish in the crowd. '" What
can I do, unless you let the water in ? I should be
trampled to death in a minute." And he squirmed
and wriggled as near to the wall as he could.
"Let the water in?" mimicked the great
speckled trout, and so lose all hopes of ever
learning the secret? Not I, until nothing else can
be done. Once more, Centaur, will you tell us
what we want to know? "
If I tell you, how do I know that you will let


me out?" asked Willie, looking at the glistening
wall, anxiously.
"I give you my word," replied the great
speckled trout, "that as soon as you have told us,
the passage you came through shall be opened."
But Willie noticed that, as he said the words, he
nodded his head with a knowing look to the fish
around him, and they returned the nod and look
with every appearance of satisfaction, and exchanged
pleasant whispers with each other.
I believe he is deceiving me," thought the
boy; but I might as well tell." Then he added,
aloud: Whenever you see a fly or worm in
the water, swim around and above it, to see that
there is no line attached to it; if there is no line
attached to it, you can eat it without fear, for it
is good. Now I have answered your question.
Let me out."
The fish looked at each other for a moment in
silence. Then said the great speckled trout,,in a
low voice :
"I wonder we never thought of doing that
before." Then he went on aloud and turning to
Willie, "It is so simple, we surely should have
thought of it by. this time, if you, Centaur, had
not interrupted us. So we owe you no thanks,
and our dear friend, Horse-Crab, has got a broken
shell by your coming. I promised to open the
passage, and so I will; but I did not tell you that,
at this time of day, the water rushes in and fills
the hall."
At that instant, the passage opened, and a great
body of water came roaring in, lifting Major from
his feet, and pony and master soon were struggling
in the deep, noisy flood; while the fishes came
swimming around him flapping him with their
tails in a most savage way. The pony plunged,
struggled, sank and rose, the water roared louder
still, and the fish crowded still more closely, but
Major pushed 11 ii through, his rider still
on his back, and at last stood on the grassy
bank.
You ungrateful and deceitful creatures cried
Willie, shouting back to the fishes. "When my
father comes here to fish, I hope he will catch a lot
of you; and if you wont bite at a hook, he '11 use a
net."
"A net! What 's that?" asked the great
trout.
Never you mind," said Willie; "but it catches
ever so many more fishes than can be taken by
hooks, as you'll soon find out. And you can't get
away from it either."
I wish we had treated him better," said the
great speckled trout, as Willie rode away.


688


[AUGUST,









ON THE WELL-SWEEP. 689


.z3 v



ze. .. ..


A-: t "-


rI;
7_7 i:
i,6


His mother does not notice he is sitting on the sweep,
And as she pulls the bucket-pole, he upward takes a leap.
And deeper as she forces it into the depths below,
Still higher and still higher that astonished boy doth go.
BUT,-
This is a world of many strange surprises.
Look out, good mother, when that bucket rises !


-7ti

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j-- *.


ON THE WYELL-SWEEP,


689


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~ i-







THE CHILD-LIFE OF GOETHE.




THE CHILD-LIFE OF GOETHE.

BY MARY LOCKWOOD.


A HUNDRED and thirty years ago, in the quaint
old city of Frankfort-on-the-Main, there came into
the world a little baby boy, at whose christening,
I think, all the fairy godmothers must have been
present; for, surely, there never was a child in
all the world more wondrously and variously gifted.
His life was the fairy-tale of genius. And yet, if
you had lived in Frankfort then, and had played
with him after he grew out of babyhood, in that
queer, grated room in his father's house; or
studied with him up in the garden-room; or had
gone with him and his sister Cornelia to visit their
grandfather Textor, you would not, perhaps, have
thought him very different from other bright,
merry-hearted boys ; for he was a good comrade,
and always ready for a frolic. But older persons
must have seen in this boy's rapid progress in his
studies, and even in the plays he invented, some
promise of that genius which afterward made him
famous throughout the civilized world.
He was named Johann Wolfgang Goethe, but
was usually called Wolfgang. He was born on
the 28th of August, 1749. But in order that you
may more clearly understand the child-life of
Goethe, I must tell you something about his rela-
tives and his surroundings. His best-loved friend
was his sister Cornelia, a little younger than him-
self. She was his constant playmate and compan-
ion. There were other children in the family, but
they died when Wolfgang and Cornelia were very
small, and only these two were left to grow up
together. The father was a hard, stern man. He
loved his children dearly, and the chief care of his
life was that they should be well taught and well
trained. He took charge of their education him-
self, and was very proud of their progress. He
taught them to be industrious, studious, brave,
and self-reliant,-ail very good things, and such as
all children should be taught. But he forgot that
children not only like to play, but ought to be
allowed to play sometimes; whatever pleasures he
gave them were instructive pleasures,-he did not
think they would care for play just for the fun of
the thing. Perhaps he had not cared much for
fun and play when he was a little boy. But Wolf-
gang cared for it, and so did Cornelia, and fort-
unate was it for them that their mother understood
this, and knew how to smooth over the rough
places for them, without interfering with their
father's authority and plans, and that she had the
art of making things bright and happy for them.


She was not so profoundly learned as her husband,
but she was intelligent and bright, with a sweet,
loving disposition, and a sunny temper. Wolf-
gang, who was a good deal like her in appearance
and manner and disposition, never forgot, through
his long life, what he owed to his admirable
mother.
Besides these four, there was in the family the
old grandmother,-the father's mother,-who lived





..s, r-' j *.

-`


GOETHE S MOTHER.
always in her rooms on the ground-floor of the
house; a fair, thin, white-robed woman, with a
gentle smile and thoughtful ways, who never made
the little ones feel as if she were incommoded when
they visited her, but used to make them bring
their toys, and play in her pleasant room; and
she invented games for their amusement.
Then there were the .... ,i.ii and grand-
mother Textor, their mother's father and mother,
who lived in the same town in a large house with a
fine old garden. This grandfather was an impor-
tant man in Frankfort, and, though he was very
grave, and said but little, be was kind to the chil-
dren, as was also the grandmother; and they liked


[AUGUST,


690







THE CHILD-LIFE OF GOETHE.


to visit these old people, and play in the beautiful
garden, where they were allowed to pick as many
currants and gooseberries as they liked, but were
on no account to touch the peaches.
Wolfgang and Cornelia Goethe lived in a curi-
ous old house; the most rambling, irregular sort
of place you can possibly imagine; the kind of
home children delight in; the loveliest place for
"hide-and-seek," and thrillingly suggestive of ghost
stories. No two rooms opened on a level into each
other. One could wander up and down steps, and
get into all sorts of queer corners. The ground-
floor of this house was on a level with the street,
and one of its rooms was separated from the street
only by a wooden frame-work, or lattice. It was,
in fact, a sort of large bird-cage, which seems to us
a singular room, but was common in the Frankfort
houses, and a favorite place of resort. There, in
the warm weather, the ladies of the family sat with
their sewing and knitting; there the cook dressed
her salad; there the children had their toys; and
the neighbors, as they passed, would stop at the
grating for a little chat. It was a bright and
cheerful apartment; and, long afterward, Goethe
said of it: "It gave me a fine feeling to be made
so intimate with the open air."
The first glimpse we have of the little Wolfgang
is in this room engaged in a piece of mischief. He
was alone, of course, or the affair could not have
happened; and he was then about three years old.
This is the way he told the story some years after:
A crockery fair had just been held, from which
not only our kitchen had been supplied with wares
for a long time to come, but a great deal of small
gear had been purchased as playthings for us chil-
dren. One beautiful afternoon, when everything
was quiet about the house, I whiled away the time
with my pots and dishes in the frame-room; and,
finding that nothing more was to be got out of
them, hurled one of them into the street, vastly
tickled to hear the clatter it made in breaking.
There were three brothers living on the opposite
side of the street, who were always much diverted
at my pranks. These men, the Von Ochsensteins,
seeing me on this occasion relish the sport until I
clapped my hands in delight, cried out to me:
'Another.' I did not withhold a kettle, and, as
they made no end to their calls for more, in a little
while, the whole collection-platters, pipkins,
mugs, and all-were dashed to pieces on the
pavement. My neighbors continued to express
their approbation, and I was highly delighted to
give them pleasure. But my stock was exhausted,
and still they shouted 'More !' I ran, therefore,
straight to the kitchen, and brought the earthen-
ware, which produced a still livelier spectacle in
breaking; and thus I kept running back and forth


691


fetching one vessel after another, as I could reach
it from where they stood in rows on the dresser;
and devoted all the ware I could drag out to simi-
lar destruction. It was too late, when some one
appeared, to hinder and save. The mischief was
done, and in place of a large amount of crockery
there was only a ludicrous history of its loss, in
which my roguish accomplices took delight to the
end of their days."
Our next view of the boy is from a little account
his mother has written of her method of teaching
and amusing her children by inventing stories for
them. She writes:
Air, fire, earth, water, I represented under the
forms of princesses, and to all natural phenomena
I gave a meaning. As we thought of the paths
which led from star to star, and that we should,
perhaps, one day inhabit the stars, and thought
of the great spirits we should meet there, I was as
eager for the hours of story-telling as the children
themselves; I was quite curious about the future
course of my own improvisation, and any invitation
which interrupted these evenings was disagreeable.
There I sat, and there Wolfgang held me with his
large black eyes; and when the fate of one of his
favorites was not according to his fancy, I saw the
angry veins swell on his temples, I saw him
repress his tears. He often burst in with, 'But,
mother, the princess wont marry the horrid tailor,
even if he does kill the giant.' And when I made
a pause for the night, promising to continue it on
the morrow, I was certain that he would, in the
interval, think it out for himself. When I
turned the story according to his plan, and told
him he had found out the ending, then he was all
fire and flame, and one could see his little heart
beating underneath his dress His grandmother,
who made a great pet of him, was the confidant of
all his ideas as to how the story would turn out;
and, as she repeated these to me, and I turned the
story according to these hints, I had the pleasure
of continuing my story to the delight and astonish-
ment of my hearers, and Wolfgang saw with glow-
ing eyes the fulfillment of his own conceptions,
and listened with enthusiastic applause."
This was when he was three and four years old.
He soon learned to read and write, and at six
years of age, not only wrote quite well in German,
but also in Latin. When he was eight years old,
he wrote original compositions-and very good
ones-in German, French, Italian, Latin and
Greek He was not taught Italian, but picked it
up from hearing it taught to his sister. He was
truly a wonderful child. And he did not love
study because he was weak and sickly, and could
not do anything else; for he was generally
healthy, and a very bright, active boy at play, and







[AUGusT,


THE CHILD-LIFE OF GOETHE.


as I said before, always ready for a frolic. He was
born with an eager desire for knowledge, and the
capacity to acquire it, as well as with the genius to
invent stories and poems.
There was an old man who kept a book-stall in a
street near by the Goethe house, and here Wolf-
gang often used to stop, when out walking with
his sister, to pore over the old and curious books,
which other boys of his age would never think of
reading.
I have said that the house was 1ii;11;ii1 sug-
gestive of ghost stories; and, I am sorry to say
that, as they grew older, Wolfgang and Cornelia
read a great many such stories, and the conse-
quence was that they became very nervous, and
full of silly fears. Their father was resolved that
they should overcome such fears, and made them
go to bed in the dark, and sleep in a room by
themselves. There they would lie, shaking with
terror, poor little souls! and every sound heard in
the stillness of night would seem to them a terrible
noise, and cause them to start and shudder, and
hide under the feather-bed covering until they
could bear it no longer, and they would creep out
of bed to seek refuge with some kind old servant
who pitied them. But their father's watchful ears
were sure to hear the little culprits, and they would
be at once sent back into the dreadful darkness
and loneliness again. Mamma Goethe saw how
wretched and unhappy the children were under
this treatment; and yet she knew that their father
was right in trying to make them get rid of their
fears; and so she managed to make them all
happy and contented, first, by showing the chil-
dren gently and kindly that there was no occasion
for their fright and misery, and then by promising
that every morning after they had lain quietly a
whole night without allowing themselves to become
frightened, they should have as many plums as
they could eat. The reward was so enticing that
the children tried very hard not to get frightened;
and when people try very hard to do a thing they
usually succeed. And, in this way, the young
Goethes overcame their fear of ghosts. I ought
to add that they were very little children when this
happened, for, if they had been older, they would
have been wiser. So, you see, a boy may be able
to read in five different languages, and yet be so
foolish as to believe in ghosts !
When Wolfgang was four years old, the kind
grandmother made the children a Christmas pres-
ent of a puppet-show, with a mimic theater, stage
scenery, and performers. You may be sure this
was a perpetual delight to such a bright, imagina-
tive child as young Goethe. He invented a great
variety of plays for the little puppets to act in; and
it may be that this most enchanting present put


into the little boy's head some of the fancies which
in after years turned into the beautiful dramas and
poems that all the world delights in now.
Parents, who have what are called precocious
children, like to tell of the wonderfully bright
speeches their little ones make. Mamma Goethe
preserved a good many of her son's sayings, and I
will tell you a few of them that you may see how
very different they were from the "smart"
speeches usually made by bright children.
In 1765, when Wolfgang was six years old, a
fearful earthquake destroyed the city of Lisbon,
and sixty thousand people were killed in almost an
instant of time. This was a thing that everybody
talked about, and Wolfgang talked about it also,
and wondered how the good God could let such an
awful destruction overtake so many people. The
next Sunday, in church, the minister preached
about it, and showed that the earthquake did not
prove that God was not good and just. After the
family returned home, the father asked Wolfgang
what he thought of the sermon. Why," said the
child, "it may, after all, be a simpler matter than
the minister thinks. God knows very well that an
immortal soul can receive no injury from a mortal
accident."
One day his mother, looking out of the window,
saw him walking in the street with other boys, and
was amused at the grave and dignified manner in
which he carried himself. When he came in, she
asked him if he was trying to distinguish himself
from his playmates. "I begin with this," said
little V..i. ,; Later on in life, I shall distin-
guish myself in far other ways."
In those days, ignorant people (and some wise
ones) believed that the stars had an influence on
people's lives. One day, Wolfgang asked his
mother if she thought they would help him.
" Why," said she, "must you have the assistance
of the stars, when other people get on very well
without?" To which Wolfgang replied, I am
not to be satisfied with what does for other
people !"
The kind old grandmother died when Goethe
was five years old; and, soon after this, his father
made up his mind to rebuild the old house, which
he did piecemeal, room by room, the family
living in it all the while. This took a long time,
and led at last to the sending away of the two
children to school, for Papa Goethe found he had
not time to attend to their lessons. But neither of
the children liked the schools as well as the lessons
at home, and they were very glad when the house
was finished, and they could return to it.
But there was one thing connected with this
school life that V, .1-i -,n heartily enjoyed,-the
holiday excursions he was allowed to make with his







THE CHILD-LIFE OF GOETHE.


school-fellows. As it was his first experience in
exploring his native city, these long walks in every
direction made an ineffaceable impression upon
him. He asked a great many questions, and made
friends with the warders and custodians of public
places; and everything that he saw and heard
sank deeply into his mind. Frankfort is one of
the most interesting old cities one can visit now,
nor has it changed very much since our hero's


------ ..., ..



LITTLE WOLFGANG AND HIS SISTER AT THE BOOK-STA
time. It had then a high, battlemented wall, with
watch-towers and great gates, built in those war-
like times when people had to be always ready to
defend themselves against sudden attacks from
their enemies. Inside these walls was a queer
collection of buildings, the houses mostly having
five or six overhanging stories, the highest coming
so close to its opposite neighbor that it seemed as
if neither air nor sunshine could penetrate into the
dark little street below. Every now and then,
however, there were broad, open squares, with
magnificent public buildings and pleasant gardens.


Sometimes, the boys would stroll across the
massive stone bridge which spans the river Main
with its graceful arches, and, leaning over the
parapet, they would gaze up and down the beau-
tiful river, and feel particularly pleased when the
golden cock on the bridge-cross would glisten in
the sunshine. Over the river was the great mar-
ket, which was always a delightful place to explore,
with its booths full of curious or useful wares, and
the green-grocers' stalls with heaps
of fruit and vegetables. But Wolf-
gang carefully avoided the butchers'
S booths; he did not like the sights
or the odors there. All his life he
avoided disagreeable things. His
S craving was for the beautiful, and
poetic, and happy things in life.
When he was a very small child, he
carried this so far that he would not
play with a child unless it was
pretty.
SI The boys thought it fine fun to get
lost among the crooked little streets
about the market, or in the crowd
S' always collected about St. Bartholo-
Smew's Church. In this dingy quar-
ter, stood the remains of the old
castle, where, long ago, dwelt Charle-
magne; and this place, Wolfgang
never passed without a sensation of
reverent awe. Once or twice a year,
S the boys would take their favorite
walk,-quite too long to be thought
of for every day. They would make
the circuit of the city walls, having
previously coaxed the warders of the
towers to lend them the keys of the
i various postern gates. Sometimes, the
boys would mount high enough to see
right down into the heart of the city,
with its buildings and pleasure-
grounds, and the large gardens of the
; ; wealthy, patched in, here and there,
with the kitchen-gardens of the poorer
classes.
The boys also liked to visit the famous Jews'
Quarter," and the Council House where, in old
times, the German emperors were crowned.
All these sights and the histories connected with
the different parts of the city fired Wolfgang's
active imagination, and he was never tired of
inventing stories about the various places they
visited, and the boys were never tired of listening.
He always represented himself as the hero of the
adventures he related; and so vivid and real did
he make them seem that, sometimes, the boys were
disposed to believe that the marvelous encounters


693







[AuGusT,


THE CHILD-LIFE OF GOETHE.


with giants and dwarf-men, etc., had actually
occurred. This was especially the case with those
stories that were such favorites with his young
hearers that he had to relate them again and again.


THE YOUTH GOETHE SKATING.

At last, he went back to the fine new house with
Cornelia, whom he liked for a companion much
better than the school-boys. His love for her was
passionate. She was bright, lively and sweet-tem-
pered, and was interested in all that interested her
brother. Their father was again their teacher,
and their favorite place for study was the garden-
room, as they called it, because it overlooked a
spacious garden belonging to a neighbor. Here
they both made quick. progress in their studies;
but these were somewhat interfered with by the
occupation of Frankfort by the French troops.
There was a war at that time between Germany
and France, and for two or three years the French
had possession of the old town where the Goethes
lived. A French Count was placed in their house,
-billeted on them, as soldiers say,-and, though
V..IIl -, was angry with the French for thus
invading his country, he very much liked this
Count, who took a fancy to the boy, and had him


with him a great deal. The Count was a patron
of artists, and bought a great many pictures, and
from him Goethe obtained his first knowledge of
art. This Frenchman introduced the boy to other
French people, and Wolfgang thus learned the
language perfectly. He also learned some other
things, as the following anecdote will show: He
became quite intimate with a French boy, Derones,
who pretended to have been engaged in a great
many duels,-"affairs of honor" he called them.
One day, he told Wolfgang that he had insulted
him, and at once challenged him to a duel. Wolf-
gang had heard Derones talk so much about these
"affairs," that he was eager to engage in one.
So, you can imagine Wolfgang, aged twelve,
arrayed in a boy's dress of that day, with shoes
and silver buckles, fine woolen stockings, dark
serge breeches, green coat with gold facings, a
waistcoat of gold cloth cut out of his father's
wedding waistcoat, his hair curled and powdered,
his hat under his arm, and a little sword with silk
sword-knot. He stood opposite Derones, swords
clashed, and the thrusts came quick upon each
other; when, finally, Derones managed to get the
point of his weapon into Wolfgang's sword-knot,
and that ended the combat. Then the two boys
embraced each other, and retired to a restaurant
to refresh themselves with a glass of almond milk.
When Wolfgang was in his thirteenth year, the
French left Frankfort; and then studies were
resumed in double earnest from having been
partly interrupted. "". I I'"Iy added Hebrew and
English to the languages he had already learned;
he studied mathematics, and science, and gram-
mar, and geography; read history, and wrote
stories and poems. He learned music and draw-
ing, and, in fact, he learned something about
everything that came in his way, for what his
masters did not teach him, he taught himself.
There was one task his father set him and
Cornelia to do, which they both heartily despised;
and that was to take care of a room full of silk-
worms which he was trying to raise, that they
might spin their silk cocoons. The children had
to feed and attend these worms after study-hours,
while the weather was bright and warm, and they
longed so much to be out-of-doors. And after all,
the ungrateful silk-worms died in great numbers,
and the dead creatures had to be picked out and
thrown away.
About this time occurred an amusing incident,
which came near being serious for Papa Goethe.
There was in Germany then a young poet, named
Klopstock, who wrote a poem called "The Mes-
siah." It became famous throughout the coun-
try, and everybody read it and talked about it.
Papa Goethe read a little of the poem, and then


694







THE CHILD-LIFE OF GOETHE.


he said it was good for nothing, because it was
written in blank verse, and he would not allow
his children to read such stuff. But some friend
smuggled the book into the house, and the
children were in raptures over it. They not only
read and reread the poem until they knew a
great deal of it by heart, but they would declaim
passages to each other. Now, one Saturday, about
twilight, the barber came, as usual, to shave
Papa Goethe. This was done in the sitting-room,
and the children were there behind the large porce-
lain stove, and no one noticed them. In low tones
they declaimed to each other their favorite dialogue
from "The Messiah" while the barber lathered
their father's face. Cornelia, becoming
excited with her part in the dialogue,
forgot where she was, and cried out in
loud tones:

" Help me I implore thee! And even if thou shouldst
demand it,
Monster, I pray thee! Abandoned One, blackest of
sinners,
Help me I suffer retributive pains as of death
everlasting.
With the fiercest and grimmest of hate I would hate
theebeforetime,
I am powerless even for that This is deep, un-
approachable anguish '

Soon, seizing her brother's arm, she fairly
shrieked:
Oh! how I am tortured-"

The poor barber, who knew nothing
of Klopstock's Messiah," and believed
some creature to be wailing in mortal
agony, was frightened nearly out of his
wits; and poured the whole basin of
lather down the ruffled shirt-front of Papa
Goethe! Then there was an uproar.
The small offenders were drawn out from
the shelter of the friendly stove, and Cor-
nelia was asked, in an awful voice, what
she thought would have happened on ac-
count of her bad behavior if the barber
had had a razor in his hand instead of a
basin of lather. Cornelia was very sorry,
and greatly shocked, and confessed the
reading of The Messiah." This made
the matter still worse; but, fortunately, Papa
Goethe found so much fault with the poem that he
had not much breath left to scold the children, and
contented himself with insisting that the book
should be sent out of the house.
All that has been told here gives but a brief
glimpse of the wonderful child, Johann Wolfgang
Goethe. He entered college at Leipsic when he


695


was sixteen years old, and then Goethe's child-life
may be considered closed.
But the whole story of his after life is deeply
interesting. It seemed as if he had only to attempt
a thing to excel in it. He was distinguished in
athletic sports and college pleasures, and was
considered one of the most graceful skaters in
Germany. He was beautiful in appearance, a fav-
orite in society, brilliant in conversation, a good
friend, loving and lovable, a great student, and an
original thinker.
After he became a man, he settled at Weimar,
and the fact that that little city was his home has
made it famous. There he lived a many-sided


GOETHE IN MANHOOD.

life,-for he was a profound thinker, a philan-
thropist, a statesman, a dramatist, a story writer,
a poet and a man of society.
His was indeed a marvelous life. He ended it
at Weimar, at the age of eighty-three, with an intel-
lect still clear and active, honored and beloved by
all, and travelers now make pilgrimages to the
former home of Goethe.


879.l






696


[AUGUST,


FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.


HAPPY-GO-LUCKY.

SOMEBODY woke up one morning in a little round white chamber.
I must open a window somehow," said the little body. "I shall
stifle here." So he pecked and picked at his chamber till he made a
hole right through the solid wall.
It was so wonderful outside of the tiny house, that the small body
with the sharp bill wanted to get out altogether, and he worked away
at his chamber wall, until at last he walked out, a real, live chicken.
But there was trouble in store for little Happy-go-Lucky,-for that
was the name his owner gave him, because he seemed so jolly, and
cheerful and able to look after himself. He wandered off into a meadow
where a whole flock of his cousins and aunts and uncles were busy
catching grasshoppers. Pretty soon there came up a shower. The cousins
and aunts and uncles ran pell-mell into the barn for shelter; but poor little
Happy did n't know the way. His feet got tangled in the high grass,
and he sank down worn out. He had strength enough to say Peep!
Peep!" in a faint, lonesome way; and it was lucky he had; for a boy
who was passing through the meadow heard him, and picked him up,
and carried him home.
Then a kind little girl took him, wrapped him in flannel, and laid
him in the open oven to dry. There was but a speck of fire in the
stove, and the oven was not hot at all.
He soon felt very dry and warm and began to revive, and look about
him, but in a few minutes the servant came along and shut the oven
door. Then she built up a fire, for she was going to get dinner. The
oven grew hotter and hotter. Poor Happy! He seemed to himself to
be dying. And, indeed, he came pretty near it; but just at the last
gasp somebody opened the oven to put in raised biscuits. Then Happy-
go-Lucky was saved.
Out-of-doors, in the sunshine, he began to enjoy life again. But
alas one day a hawk swooped down suddenly, caught our unfortunate
little chicken, and flew away at his ease. That was the end of him, you
will suppose. Not at all. That chicken was like some people, born to
get into scrapes. The hawk did not have a very good hold, or some-
thing else was the. matter, for, while yet high up in the air, he dropped
Happy-go-Lucky into a farm-yard, not far from his old home, and there
he grew up, had no more troubles, and lived to a good old age.







FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.


21_x


!Ii.kW


lit
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II2





'I.' ,' Al-8


VOL. VI.-47.


II-



rIL*''


.I Il
II


3 yl







[AUGUST,


JACK- IN -THE-PULPIT.


:I
F.


." ,1 :. a '. r r i' '" r' '
.. .. .
--'

S: JAL,K-l 11-1 L-i U L'I I

WHERE are you all, this glorious holiday
weather, my dears ? On the mountains, hy the
sea, scattered up and down the land in pleasant
breezy places, I suppose, with nothing to do, and
a delightful plenty of time in which to do it. How
I should like to take a peep at each one of you !
Well, wherever you are, remember your Jack
in his quiet shady nook; remember, too, that he
wishes you all the joy you can get and give in this
joyful summer world.
Now, what shall we talk about first? Something
with a hint of windy coolness in it-eh ? Well,
then, here 's a bit of news about

A TRUE "AIR-LINE" DISPATCH.
STEAM, electricity, girls, boys, and ever so
many other creatures,-not to mention your Jack's
particular friends, the birds,-carry the messages
of the busy world from one part to another; and
men have found out how to make even the air
their news carrier.
I don't mean in any of the old ways, by bugles,
and whistles, and fog-horns, nor by the new
methods of air-telegraphs and speaking-tubes;
but,- well, here is what I am told about it:
Messages are written upon bits of paper, and
these are put into a little box. The box is round,
and covered with stuff called felt, so that it may fit
snugly into a long air-tight tube. The box being
in, a strong blast of air is turned on, and away
goes the box, blown to the other end of the tube,
where it strikes a bell, letting a clerk know it has
arrived. To get it back to the sending office, the
air is pumped away from behind, and the box is
then carried on by other air which rushes in to fill
the empty space.
In New York, the "pneumatic tubes, as they
are called,-from a Greek word meaning to
blow,"-are not very long ones; but in London,


England, the Post-Office has in use a tube nearly
two miles in length, besides others not quite so long.

A LONG WINTER JOURNEY.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I write to tell you a story about
a stork. It was in a newspaper, and I do not remember it all,
but only this much: In Hungary there was a man who had
two storks that nested upon the roof of his house. Every winter
they went away, and one year two storks would come, but the
man was not sure if they were the same that had left the year
before. So, one winter, he put round the neck of one of the storks
an iron collar marked with his own name and address. When warm
weather cri ,1i- back also came the storks, and one of them still
wore the .... ., and also a golden one, on which was marked
the sentence, "Ex India Colonia cum ciconia hoc donum mitto."
This is Latin, and Pa says it means, From Colonial India, with the
stork, I send this gift." So, you see, the stork must have made a
!-n7 i-; -rr..- ...--- his two homes,-one in Hungary, the other
i. I I. i.. .. . truly, M. W F.

THE CHESTNUT-TREE OF THE HUNDRED HORSES.
TRAVELERS say that people in Sicily tell of an
old-time hollow tree called "The Chestnut-tree
of the Hundred Horses," because it could hold a
hundred horses together within its trunk I
That must have been once upon a time," I
should think; but I 've heard of a man who act-
ually saw, near Palermo, a tree measuring about
twenty-five feet in diameter, and arching over the
public road-way which passes through its trunk.
Speaking of Sicily puts me in mind of this

ICE-QUARRY ON A VOLCANO.
MOUNT ETNA, on the island of Sicily, is so
lofty that you can see from it in every direction
across a distance of more than one hundred and
fifty miles. Its peaks are always covered with
snow, and in the high clefts and grottoes, the
snow collects and turns to ice, which is a great
blessing to dwellers on the hot plains below.
One summer, about twenty years ago, as I 've
been told, when the whole country was parched
with the .great heat, some ice-hunters had the
good luck to find a vast quantity of ice near the
top of the volcano. The discovery sent a chill
of delight down the back-bones of all the people.
The ice was overlaid by a thick bed of lava, and
had to be quarried out. But the queerest thing
about it was, that it had escaped being melted
when, years and years before, the lava was yet boil-
ing hot and was flowing over it. However, after
a while, a man named Lyell came along, and he
explained matters, showing that, when the lava
came, the ice already was snugly covered with a
blanket of volcanic dust and ashes, which pre-
vented the heat from striking through.
That was a good enough plan for keeping ice
cool, no doubt, but your Jack would n't advise you
to roll yourselves up in blankets for a similar pur-
pose,-at least, not in this weather.

WHY NOT GORSEP
Boston, Mass.
DEAR MR. JACK : You asked us in the June number of ST. NICH-
OLAS if we could tell Why a certain hairy, greenish, brownish, red
fruit is called the gooseberry," and I think I have found the right
answer. You know the gooseberry bush is very thorny or prickly,
and my little schoolma'am says that probably the fruit was once
~.l r'' I:- rv or prickly berry, as gorse originally meant prickly.
is a prickly shrub. 1 looked in Worcester's big dic-
tionary, and there it quotes some one who says that perhaps the
right name is gorseberry, but that English gardeners claim that the


698







JACK-IN-THIE-PULPIT.


name originated from its gross or thick skin. At any rate, it is plain
that the goose has nothing to do with it, I r ..-. i .
the strawberry, too, in the same dictionary, "-r i I .. .
particularly. It seemed to me rather far-fetched.
Your constant reader and friend,
MINNIE C. B.

Answers came also from A. H.-Ninon Moore
-Frances E. Northup-M. V. K.-Dorcas L.
Ninon thinks "gooseberry" comes from the
Swedish word "krusbir" or "crossberry," from
the triple spine on the bush, and which sometimes
is in the form of a cross; and A. H. suggests that
"strawberry" comes from an old custom of put-
ting straw under the ripening berries to protect
them from the earth.
B. P. sends no answer of her own, but forwards
a copy of a letter written about fifty years ago,
by Thomas Hood, to the "London Horticult-


b l _-. 1 1 . 1 . ,- ,:1 r I. I. ,._ I _1.- ,. .. 1; .. : .
in,




I ,- r l r II.. I i .. ...





.. r l .. .L r I ', . l . ri I :.. I .I i


]. \ [ i ii .I , ... . -.l ...t

CI ;. . ,, - .. . ., 1 ,, , .. -
.'%+I ,- rit ,,!t


pretty grasses, and a butterfly, while below them
the Marsh Rosemary sends up a spray of blossoms
and a spreading leaf.
In the other picture, at the bottom, is a Green
Sea-Lettuce; and above that, a little to the left,
two anemones are cuddling close together, while a
large one, called a Gem Pimplet, is spreading out
his leafy arms beside them. The butterfly-like
creature, floating near, is really an oddly shaped
fish, and a little higher up is what seems to be
a bird, but is a Cow-nosed Skate (like those
pictured in the June number). At the top, in the
middle, are some many-armed living things with
the light shining through them; and coral of
various forms gleams and branches out near by."
I-. wonder how many of my youngsters have
water-gardens-" aquaria" of their own ?









YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS' DEPARTMENT.





YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS' DEPARTMENT.


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II: 11111111: .11:1!111 1



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II


SOME OF MY NEIGHBORS.
(Drawn by a young contributor.)


[AUGUST,


700








THE LETTER-BOX.





THE LETTER-BOX.


ON page 676, there are four more of Mr. Hopkins's "Un-Natural
History" pictures, which may require some explanation.
Catching Prickly-plum Diggers" with the naked hand is a prac-
tice that is not likely to become a habit with ordinary boys and girls.
Even eagles and hawks would be apt to respect this quiet little bird,
although they might not be able to read the notice on the sign-board
on which he is perched. He looks as if he felt quite safe.
The legs of the common stork or crane are long enough to allow
him to wade about in shallow water and catch fish, but the Stilted
scythrops is a wiser bird than the rest of his kind. By strapping a
pair of stilts to his legs he can not only keep his feet dry, but he can
wade into moderately deep water where there are plenty of fish, and,
as he wears spectacles, he can see them, even if they go down to the
very bottom. There are few creatures more unnatural and unknown
than this bird.
There are a good many methods of catching crabs, but the "An-
sinum Scoopiana" has a fashion of his own, which is more expedi-
tious, perhaps, than any other. He just dives down into the water
and scoops up a crab in a net which is attached to the lower half of
his bill. When he shuts his bill there is only one way out of that
net, and that is down Mr. Scoopiana's throat.
The North-American Blunderbore has a natural relative, a good
deal smaller than himself, who is well known to most of us. This
smaller fellow does not carry a patent auger, with which to bore into
our bodies, but he makes painful punctures, for all that. But what
should we do if this Blundering Buzz-fuzz made his way through
our mosquito-bars?
These un-natural creatures are quite curious, but, after all, we
ought to be glad that none of them exist.

Beaufort, S. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl nine years old, and I go to
school every day. We have recess; but it is very warm weather,
and so we cannot play as many games as when it was cool. Could
you please ask your other readers to tell me through the "Letter-
Box" of some quiet games ?-From yours truly, MAMIE E. W.

Cressbrook.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you about my Happy Fam-
ily, and I think you will say I have nice pets when I tell you they
(that is, my dogs, cat,-and chickens) eat from the same plate and at
the same time, too. May be it is because they are named after noted
persons. The dogs' names are General Grant and Dom Pedro; the
chickens, Queen Elizabeth and Mary, Queen of Scots, and last,
though not least, I call my cat Queen Victoria.
Hoping you will find a small corner for my letter, I remain your
friend and admirer, ALICE BENNETT.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought you would like to know about
Money Island. It is one of the Thimble Islands, a little way out in
New Haven Bay.
I visited the island last summer, and went bathing, swimming and
boating. The.. 1 ,,.- whose sides are nearly straight. In
this, c i .... 1... .1 ......: supposed to be hidden. I climbed to
the top and f-- '4 evr-l I.rre r f.-" hih made nice seats. The
tracks of C r- !,. J : *i.-.I i- ,. near the little cottage
owned by a friend.
On Pot Island, j.. i.:. r rge stone with a deep holein
it, called "Captair i'.,! I ,..--. I. i."
I am ten years old.-Yours truly, GERTIE FYLER.

Brooklyn, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Please tell the Little Schoolma'am I have
seen a big copy of the world, four feet in diameter. All the land
parts are colored yellow, and are of wax modeled in correct shape,
and raised to a proper height above the sea-level. T.he oceans, seas
and rivers are blue, and the snow-peaks, icebergs and floating ice
are white. There is, also, a line to mark the place where ship-mas-
ters make allowance for an extra day so as to keep their log-books
correct.
One good thing about this big globe is, that it shows all the latest
geographical discoveries, especially along the coast of Northern
Siberia, where Nordenskjold, on the voyage from which he returned
a few months ago, found he could sail his ship over places marked on
old maps as five hundred miles inland, and had to go hundreds of
miles around promontories where the maps said there was deep sea.
It must be just fun to learn geography with a globe like that, and


I wish our school had one; but there is only one, and that is in New
York. They say it is the biggest globe in all the world, and I
should think it might well be.-Yours truly, R. M. T.


WHAT young student of history can answer the following ques-
tion:
New York City.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Will you please tell me why so many people
who are mentioned in ancient history never seem to have any last
name ?-Your constant reader, M. H.

THE following little poem is by Daisy Reed, a little girl living in
Wisconsin:
THE FAIRIES.
What see you in the night-time,
When the sun has gone to bed ?
You see the little fairies
In their coats of green and red.
What hear you in the night-time,
When gone are dust and heat?
You hear the fairy-music,
And pattering little feet.
What feel you in the night-time,
When all the world 's asleep?
You feel small fairy-fingers
Over your eyelids creep.
What smell you in the night-time,
When every thing is still?
You smell sweet fairy perfumes
Of rose and daffodil.
Thus see you, smell you, feel you,
And hear you in the night,
When all the fairies are abroad,
And the moon is shining bright.


MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in the town where John Brown
was bom, the town of Torrington, Conn. We have to go up some
pretty steep hills to reach the house. A friend and I went up there
last spring after arbutus, and stopped at the house for a glass of
water. Strangers sometimes carry away splinters of the wood from
the old building, but it has been repaired several times, so that they
are not always sure of getting part of the original building.
I am thirteen years old.-Your attentive reader, J. H.

Cambridge, Mass.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We send a riddle which we should like to
see in the magazine.
CARRIE B. GOVE, and GERTRUDE M. GOVE.
We are little airy creatures,
All of different voice and features;
One of us in glass is set,
One of us you '11 find in jet;
Another you may see in tin,
And the fourth a box within;
If the fifth you should pursue,
It can never fly from you.
Answer,-the vowels: "a, e, i, o, u."
Perhaps the Letter-Box" readers have seen something like the
above riddle before, but it is good enough to bear renewed acquaint-
ance. It calls to mind a cleverly made verse written years ago by
a young girl, and which contained every letter in the English alpha-
bet. Some of our young correspondents may like to try their skill in
the same way. If so, let them make the verse rhyme, keep it as
short as possible, and send it to the Letter-Box by August 2o.
The best verse will be printed in the October number.


San Antonio, Texas.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In the "Jack-in-the-Pulpit" for June,
-- T Id a description of the town of San Antonio, Texas, under
I.. ...ii Beggars that Ride." Will you please let me give you a
description of my town as itis at the present time ?
Most of the "old, thick-walled, low houses, with earthen floors and


701









THE LETTER-BOX.


flat roofs" have been torn down, and replaced by substantial stone
i r. i.',: i' . r by fine dwelling-houses.
.. streets are wide, and nearly all are paved, but some
are very crooked, narrow and winding, and there are still a few old
houses with grass growing on their roofs.
Now and then you see a beggar, but there is now only one I know
of who rides a donkey; he is a very poor, weak old Mexican. Most
of what we now call beggars are the tramps who beg from house to
house,
San Antonio has a railroad now, and expects to have another
soon; it has four banks, four public schools, several factories, and a
system of water-works; it also has street-cars, and a gas-house, and
it contains now about twenty-five thousand inhabitants.
Please print this so as not to give a wrong idea of San Antonio,
and oblige, Yours respectfully, MAX U.


ONE of the most welcome letters we have received this month is
the following sober communication from Johnny C. B., who says:
"I am fourteen and live in Florida. I have two brothers and one
sister, and we 've all been very much interested lately in an article
we read in ;* *. i"i[ ,i. .,' ".. '..," .. ,: .. W hat interested us
most of all -. ".1....1 -J ...1i .... I icebergs. Only we
could n't believe they were so big as the paper said they were. Papa
said he supposed the account was true, but he was very much sur-
prised, too, to hear that icebergs were such tremendous affairs. Here
is what it said about them. Do you think they really are so big ?"
The heciht -f the icebergs often amounts to ,000o feet. Many of
tlt.... I .... high in Baffin's Bay, float to the south and are car-
ried in such quantities upon the coast of Greenland by the strong
south-western currents, that they frequently crowd together so as to
form a solid barrier between this coast and Iceland. Through the
whole summer they lie on the southern coast around Cape Farewell,
and on the western coast as far as 62 degrees and sometimes 66
degrees. In September and October they disappear, but in January
they return again. In Disco Bay icebergs have been measured,
which stood 300 fathoms deep in the water, and were therefore more
than 2,000 feet in height. On the eastern coast, many measure from
I20 to 5o feet above the surface of the water, and since only the
seventh or eighth part is visible, the full height cannot be less than
,o000 feet. They are frequently a mile in circumference, and contain
from 1,000 to 1,500 millions of cubic feet, weighing from 40 to 50
millions of tons. While they thus float, slowly dissolving into the
ocean, they often assume the most wonderful forms; they resemble
palaces, cathedrals and old fortresses, with gate-ways, windows and
towers, all built of spotless marble and shining in the sun like silver.
Sometimes they resemble ships, trees or beasts, or, parting the light
with their cubic splinters, cover themselves with prismatic glories.
Well, Johnny, we think you can safely rely upon the truth of the
above account, and, judging from the splendid description," we
know of few wonders more pleasant to contemplate just now than
these giant icebergs. So, thanks for your letter, as we feel sure all
our young readers will-like your own household,-be "interested"
in reading, and thinking over, the extract you sent.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: What "Jack-in-the-Pulpit" told us in the
May number about Mother Carey's Chickens reminds me of the







*, 1 -
It.












Jacana, I.-..r--1 1-. 'ropical bird, found in Asia, Africa, and
South .,. .i 1, .11 on floating plants at the surface of the
water. Its toes are so long and spread out so wide that it can do this
easily.
I send you a rough outline-portrait of the Jacana, and remain,
yours truly, R. D. Ss'YTHE.


BE YOUR OWN CARPENTER.
GIRLS, do any of you know how to drive a nail without splitting
the board ?
"I don't know," you say; I never tried "
Well, then, get yourselves a saw, a hammer, nails, screws, gimlet
and screw-driver; prr-f'i -C'-4n-,. r"d learn the correct way to drive
a nail, and there I i : -....-' I.'I thing you can make without
being under any obligation to the carpenter. Nobody seems to think
it worth while to tell girls how to knock a nail, and the male sex
generally enjoy a quiet smile, if not a loud laugh, when the unfort-
unate Miss hammers her" nail instead of the metal one, and splits her
lath just as she has her frame nearly completed.
One summer we wanted to go fishing for black-fish. We must
have bait. The bait is "fiddlers" (small crabs). They are rather
difficult to procure, but we did secure more than we needed for one
day's use. How should.we keep them alive? Then my little prac-
tice with saw and hammer served me a good purpose.
I'll make a fish-car for them." And straightway I selected from
the pieces of lumber piled up in the shed two pieces about eight
S-n-- -.,ir: sawed sixteen pieces of lath (about a foot long) and
round my eight-inch pieces of board, leaving y4-inch
spaces between the laths. Of course I made a door of two of the
laths, hinges of a piece of old India rubber shoe, and a button of a

.









piece of lath and a screw (Fig. i). We put the "fiddlers into the car,
and the car into the salt water, where they were kept well and happy
until we wanted to use them.
But in making this car I should have cracked my laths all to pieces
if I had not learned how to place the nail.
Look at the point, and place it just the way you think it ought not
to go. The point is broad one way, and narrow the other; put the











broad way across the grain of the wood (see Fig. 2), otherwise the
nail forms a wedge and splits your lath.
You may generally observe faint lines running across the head of a
nail (even in tacks); these lines run with the grain of the wood, when
the nail has been properly driven.
Now don't forget these hints when you attempt to drive a nail.
AUNT SUE.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I write to you to know whether some of
your young readers can solve the following puzzle:
Curtail and behead a town in France,
Composed of letters five,
And your mother you will then disclose,
As sure as you 're alive.
The town is Revel, in Upper Garonne; curtailing and beheading
it gives us Eve, the mother of us all.-Yours truly,
MIFFLIN B. BRADY.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JUNF NtUMBER were received, be-
fore June 2o, from "Clover Leafl" who answered all the puzzles
correctly; and from Mabel K. Jenks and brother-Netta Van
-"'' I'-r- 1, l- N. Cogswell-Jennie S. Ward-Punch-L. Far-
'' .--i ;!~ '-i -Reta Shippen McIlvaine-Daisy B. Hodgsdon
-J. Maurce Thompson-D.W. Roberts-Ned and Henry W. Blake
-A. W. Stockett-W. C. Kent,jr.-Sophie C. McCarter-Lizzie H.
D. St. Vrain-J. Howard Weeke-Hebe-Twillie Mitchell-Hallie
and L. AI. Berkeley-M. E. T.-Neils E. Hansen--Bertha New-
some-Vee Cornwell-Kenneth Emerson-Bessie Lea Hunt-W. M.
K.-Aunt Carre--X. y. Z.-Dottie Dimple and her sister-Ida
Cohn-Kitty C. Atwater--Bella Wehl-Florence L. Tunill-Hard
and Tough-O. C. Turner.


[AUGUST,








THE RIDDLE-BOX.





THE RIDDLE-BOX.


A PUaZZLING FAN.







4 .
It



'it'


THE fan is in four parts,-the handle and three vanes. The
numerals in the divisions of these parts stand for certain alphabetic
letters, and the problem is, to find what those letters are, with the
help of the following clues:
The 5, 9, 9, 2 signifies position. The 4, 6, 7, 3, 8 signifies pertain-
ing to the foundation. The i, 2, 3, 2o, Ir, 12, 13 is mean wicked-
ness. The 4, 5, 6, io, I, 1 3 s courage. The 7, 8, 9, to, Or, 12,
13 is bondage. The to, rr, 12, 13 is an adjective formerly used as an
adverb, o'B.
NUMERICAL ENIGMAS.
I. LET the I, 2,3 4, at once with its a, 2, 3, 4, 5; there is
scarcely time for it to reach the wharf. II. Go to the ball and, i, a
3, 4, 5 o'clock, 6, 7, 8, g, to with whoever may be in 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,
7, 8, 9, to. III. Lovers of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 will doubtless make a
strong,-if not a 5, 6, 7, 8-1, 2, 3, 4, in favor of theatrical amuse-
ments. L. H. w.
DIAGONAL PUZZLE.
i. ONE of the Territories of western North America. 2. A great
river in Hindustan. 3. A trading city of China. 4. The capital of
a German duchy. 5. A seaboard city of Yorkshire, England, noted
for a peculiar kind of jewelry stone which it exports. 6. A river
near Zulu-land. The letters of the diagonal, which run downward
from left to right, spell the name of a river of Europe. DYCIE.

WORD-SQUARE.
i. A wISE Greek :.:..-. i. mentioned in Homer, and known as
"the horse-tamer." i I. mother of that Timothy who was said
to have known the i-., ... ,' .., a child. 3. Birds with long,
slender bills. 4. To .. .- .... drinks in excess. 5. An animal
of the cat kind, found in Mexico. 6. Puts back into place. F. B.

ANAGRAIMS.
IN each of the following examplo- t ----ted- ;mrdnteil ,,c^,l
ing the numeral are an anagram t, . .. ** .. *-
which is given after the dash. By-.. ..._; .: I. ..l I
gram, the other word will be found.
i. One pig a common bird. 2. Two shiners the quality
of being meritorious. 3. Three ants announces revenge. 4.
Four calls consisting of many little flowers growing close
together. 5. Five slats good times. 6. Six ore pens-- remark.
7. Seven acres divisions, or sunderings. 8. Eight red ants -
made to fall in one right line. 9. Nine casts continuous. 2o.
Ten angels throws into confusion, w.


1879.1


703


HISTORICAL ENIGM-IAS.
I. ON August 3, A. D. 1492, he of whom my whole is one of the
names led away an important expedition. I contain eight letters.
My z, 2, 6 is a horse. My 9, 3, t =~ 1 mean back street. My 8
sounds like the name of a tough -.. -
II. On August 7, B. C. 480, I became famous. Translated, I am
"Hot Gate "; and I have ten letters. My 1, 4, 8 is a remark meant
to be encouraging to beginners. ivy -. 5, 7 is made into ropes.
My 9, 6 calls attention. My to is ...: r.' of Casar.
III. Orn n.;-t; D. 1771, was born the writer whose name
I am. I *.. ... i .. .* letters and three words. My i, 4, 2, 3, 6
is an eddy. My 1, 9, 7, 8, to is the plural form of the name of a
kind of packing-case. My 13, 12, 14 is a toddling baby.

INVERTED DIAMOND.




AcRoss: i. Wavered through fear. 2. Ranted. 3. A boy's nick-
name. 4. In error.
Down: i. In ace. 2. A conjunction. 3. Open hostility. 4.
Always. 5. A color. 6. A boy's nick-name. 7. In bed. c. D.

CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.
My first can be found in tipple,
My second in every plan.
My third is part of a ripple;
My fourth is in Englishman.
My fifth you can see in a sink.
My sixth is in every town;
My seventh, in each drop of ink,
And my eighth in every noun.
My ninth is one-fourth of game.
And now-I 'm most done with my rhyme-
My whole is a country of fame.
Guess what it is when you 've time. H.


EASY PICTORIAL PUZZLE.




.-

-- -











DESCRIBE this picture in five words spelled from the letters of the
following sentence: I ate a big peony. T.

CONCEALMENTS.
IN each of the following sentences find concealed the name of some
:..,1. I,:...i ddess, or of some woman distinguished in history:
Si -.. .. ; ., of Joseph in Egypt cannot butbe read with interest.
2. Uncle Tom," said Nelly, one wet evening, "do enliven us with
a tale of your travels." 3. O why did old Anchises' son forsake the
-"ce "'^ 1--"1 hi -Aid wed in Italy the daughter of Latinus? 4.
._ ,i.. ... i . i. . I. 1. part are under one ruler.
5- 1. ,,,. 1 . ,i. ~ ., reply. W hatsaid he?
Cuba, from her position, is an island of peculiar interest to the
people of these States." 6. She gave him the best her larder afforded.
7. Mother, mother, can't I go next week to see the circus?" 8.
"Do you mean to tell me Dean Stanley is not ap Englishman?"
9. Ungrateful Patrick You 've brought shame on your poor old
uncle! O, Pat,-rather should you have died than done it!"
F. P. T.


~--- '--
- .--1-.

-~



ir~







[AUGUST.


THE RIDDLE-BOX.


PICTORIAL TRIPLE ACROSTIC.
THREE FAMILIAR SHORT PROVERBS.


17 18 1

WRITE, in a column, words descriptive of the pictures: first, a word descnptive ot the picture numbered i; beneath this, a word descrip-
tive of the picture numbered 2, and so on, setting down the letters -1 .... ough they formed a word. If this has been done
correctly, the initials of the column, read downward, will spell a I : I .. -.. i read downward, will spell another proverb related
to the first in sense; and from each of the remainders,-the portions left after striking off the initials and finals,-in downward order, may be
picked twenty-one letters that will spell in the order of selection a third proverb related in sense to both the others. w. H. G.





ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN JULY NUMBER.

NUMERICAL ENcGMA.-Atlantic Ocean. PICTORIAL PUZZLE.-Lily of the valley; holly, violet, olive, aloe,
BEHEADED RHYMES.-i. T-angled. 2. S-hook. 3. M-ink 4. ivy.
C-limes. 5. S-corn, 6. B-lock. NUMERICAL DIAMOND.-I. B. 2. BAd. 3. BaDen. 4. DEn. 5.
ST. ANDREW'S CROSS OF DIAMONDS.-I. I. T. 2. Rib. 3. "i: N.
4. Bey. 5. R. II. R. 2. Saw. 3. Raven. 4. Web. 5. N. : i SQUARE-WORD.-i. Ducat. 2. Usage. 3. Cages. 4. Agent. 5.
R. 2. Yew. 3. Resin. 4. Wit 5. N. IV. i. R. 2. Pew. 3. Redan. Testy.
4. Wag. 5. N. V. I. N. 2. Ton. 3. Noted. 4. Net. 5. D. REmaus-" There are more things in heaven and earth, Hora-
HIDDEN REVERSED RIVERS.-I. Volga; a glove. 2. Elbe; Wal- tio,
lace bled. 3. Obi; I bought. 4. Lena; an elephant. 5. Nile; Than are dreamed of in your philosophy."
some linen. 6. Ottawa; saw at Toronto. CKoss-WORD,-Sun.-- RIDDLE.--View.
PROBLEM.-MILL.-- MATHEMATICAL PUZZLE.-CIvIC. HOUR-GLAss.-Alabama. i. BanAnas. 2. SaLad. 3. SAw 4.
HIDDEN FRENCH MOTTO.-" Tout bien on ien." Get out; Bien- B. 5. PAn. 6. HaMan. 7. CalAbar; or Damaras.
ni. ',' 1 .. EASY SQUARE-WORD.-I Paris. 2. Aroma. 3 Roman. 4.
., ., .i .- ... i --"Weave truth with trust." Image. 5. Saner.

(For names of solvers of June puzzles, see "Letter-Box.")