Front Cover
 Jimmy's cruise in the "pinafor...
 Witches' night
 Duke Leopold's stone
 Mr. Carothers' secret
 The streamlet
 The grave in the forest
 The railroad in the air
 On a man's back
 The lobster's victory; or, the...
 A jolly fellowship
 The educational breakfast at the...
 Taking care of him nights - Noah's...
 The robin and the trout
 A curious monastery
 What Kate found in the well
 The school in the woods
 The burdock boy and girl
 What happened to Margery Daw
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover


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mods:accessCondition type restrictions on use displayLabel Rights All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
mods:identifier NOTIS ocm0176
OCLC 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
(DLC) 2006255186; 55136171
mods:languageTerm text English
mods:physicalLocation Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in Special Collections, George A. Smathers Libraries
code UF
mods:name personal
mods:namePart Dodge, Mary Mapes
date 1830-1905
mods:roleTerm authority marcrelator Creator
mods:note Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
funding Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
mods:publisher Scribner,
mods:placeTerm New York
mods:dateIssued -c1943.
mods:recordIdentifier source ufdc UF00065513_00078
mods:recordContentSource University of Florida
mods:relatedItem original
mods:extent 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
mods:title St. Nicholas.
mods:detail Enum1
mods:caption Vol. 6
mods:number 6
No. 12
mods:topic Children's literature -- Periodicals.
Literature for Children
St. Nicholas, vol. 6, no. 12
Saint Nicholas
mods:typeOfResource text
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St. Nicholas, vol. 6, no. 12
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00078
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas, vol. 6, no. 12
Series Title: St. Nicholas.
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: -c1943.
Subjects / Keywords: Literature for Children
Genre: Children's literature
serial   ( sobekcm )
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: notis - ocm0176
oclc - 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
oclc - (DLC) 2006255186; 55136171
System ID: UF00065513:00078

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Jimmy's cruise in the "pinafore"
        Page 777
        Page 778
        Page 779
        Page 780
        Page 781
        Page 782
    Witches' night
        Page 783
    Duke Leopold's stone
        Page 784
        Page 785
    Mr. Carothers' secret
        Page 786
        Page 787
        Page 788
        Page 789
        Page 790
        Page 791
        Page 792
        Page 793
        Page 794
        Page 795
        Page 796
        Page 797
    The streamlet
        Page 798
    The grave in the forest
        Page 799
    The railroad in the air
        Page 800
        Page 801
        Page 802
        Page 803
        Page 804
        Page 805
        Page 806
        Page 807
    On a man's back
        Page 808
        Page 809
    The lobster's victory; or, the race that was not to the swift
        Page 810
        Page 811
    A jolly fellowship
        Page 812
        Page 813
        Page 814
        Page 815
        Page 816
        Page 817
    The educational breakfast at the Peterkins'
        Page 818
        Page 819
        Page 820
        Page 821
        Page 822
    Taking care of him nights - Noah's Ark ashore
        Page 823
        Page 824
        Page 825
        Page 826
        Page 827
        Page 828
        Page 829
        Page 830
    The robin and the trout
        Page 831
    A curious monastery
        Page 832
    What Kate found in the well
        Page 833
        Page 834
        Page 835
        Page 836
    The school in the woods
        Page 837
        Page 838
    The burdock boy and girl
        Page 839
    What happened to Margery Daw
        Page 840
        Page 841
        Page 842
        Page 843
    The letter-box
        Page 844
        Page 845
    The riddle-box
        Page 846
        Page 847
        Page 848
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text



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OCTOBER, 1879.

[Copyright, 1879, by Scribner & Co.



A BOY sat on a door-step in a despondent atti-
tude, with his eyes fixed on a pair of very shabby
shoes, and '-,u -Ii.:. resting on his knees, as if to
hide the big patches there. But it was not the
fact that his toes were nearly out and his clothes
dilapidated which brought the wrinkles to his fore-
head and the tears to his eyes, for he was used to
that state of things and bore it without complaint.
The prospect was a dull one for a lively lad full
of the spring longings which sunny April weather
always- brings. But it was not the narrow back
street where noisy children played and two or
three dusty trees tried to bud without sunshine,
that made him look so dismal. Nor was it the
knowledge that a pile of vests was nearly ready for
him to trudge away with before he could really
rest after doing many errands to save mother's
weary feet.
No, it was a burden that lay very heavily on his
heart and made it impossible to even whistle as he
waited. Above the sounds that filled the street he
heard a patient moan from the room within, and,
no matter what object -his eyes rested on, he saw,
with sorrowful distinctness a small, white face
turned wistfully toward the window as if weary of.
the pillow where it had lain so long.
Merry little Kitty, who used to sing and dance
from morning till :iight,. was. now so feeble and'
wasted that he could carry her about like a baby.
All day she lay moaning softly, and her one com-
VOL. VI.-53.

fort was when brother could come and sing to
her. That night he could not sing; his heart was
so full, because the doctor had said that the poor
child must have country air as soon as possible,
else she never would recover from the fever which
left her such a sad little ghost of her former self.
But, alas! there was no money for the trip, and
mother was sewing day and night to earn enough
for a week at least of blessed country air. and
quiet. Jimmy did his best to help, but could find
very little to do, and the pennies came in so slowly
he was almost in despair.
There was no father to lend a strong hand, and
Mrs. Nelson was one of the "silent poor" who
cannot ask for charity, no matter how much they
may need it. The twelve-year-old .boy considered
himself the man of the family, and manfully car-
ried as many burdens as his young. shoulders
would bear; but this was a very heavy one, so it is
no wonder that he looked sober. Holding his
curly head in his hands as if to keep it from
flying asunder with the various plans working in-
side, he sat staring at the dusty bricks in a desper-
ate frame of mind.
Warm days were coming and every hour was
precious, for poor Kitty pined in the close room,
and all he could do was to bring her dandelions
and bits of green grass- from the common when
she begged to go-in the fields and pick pretties"
for herself. He loved the little sister dearly, and,
as he remembered her longing, his eyes filled and


No. 12.


he doubled up both fists with an air of determina-
tion, muttering to himself:
She shall go I don't see any other way and
1 '11 do it! "
The plan which had been uppermost lately was
this: His father had been a sailor, and Jimmy pro-
posed to run away to sea as cabin boy. His wages
were to be paid before he went, so mother and
Kitty could be in the country while he was gone,
and in a few months he would come sailing gayly
home to find the child her rosy self again. A very
boyish and impossible plan, but he meant it, and
was in just the mood to carry it out-for every
other attempt to make money had failed.
I '11 do it as sure as my name is Jim Nelson.
I 'I1 take a look at the ships this very night, and
go in the first one that will have me," he said, with
a resolute nod of the head, though his heart sank
within him at the thought. I wonder which
kind of captains pays boys best? I guess I '11 try
a steamer; they make short trips. I heard the
cannon to-day, so one is in, and I '11 try for a
place before I go to bed."
Little did desperate Jimmy guess what ship he
would really sail in, nor what a prosperous voyage
he was about to make, for help was coming that
very minute, as it generally does, sooner or later,
to generous people who are very much in earnest.
First a shrill whistle was heard, at the sound of
which he looked up quickly ; then a rosy-faced girl
of about his own age came skipping down the
street, swinging her hat by one string; and, as
Jimmy watched her approach, a smile began to
soften the grim look he wore, for Willy Bryant
was his best friend and neighbor, being full of
courage, fun and kindliness. He nodded and
made room for her on the step, the place she
usually occupied at spare moments when they got
lessons and recounted their scrapes to one another.
But to-night Willy seemed possessed of some
unusually good piece of news which she chose to
tell in her own lively fashion, for, instead of sitting
down, she began to dance a sailor's hornpipe, sing-
ing gayly: I 'm little Buttercup, sweet little
Buttercup," till her breath gave out.
What makes you so jolly, Will? asked Jim-
my as she dropped down beside him and fanned
herself with the ill-used hat.
Such fun-you '11 never guess-just what we
wanted-if your mother only will! You '11 dance,
too, when you know," panted the girl, smiling like
a substantial sort of fairy come to bring good luck.
Fire away, then. It will have to be extra nice
to set me off. I don't feel a bit like jigs now,"
answered Jimmy, as the gloom obscured his face
again, like a cloud over the sun.
You know Pinafore ? began Will, and, get-


ting a quick nod for an answer, she poured forth
the following tale with great rapidity: Well,
some folks are going to get it up with children to
do it, and they want any boys and girls that can
sing to go and be looked at to-morrow, and the
good ones will be picked out, and dressed up, and
taught how to act, and have the nicest time that
ever was. Some of our girls are going, and so am
I, and you sing and must come, too, and have
some fun. Wont it be jolly ?"
I guess it would; but I can't. Mother needs
me every minute out of school," began Jimmy,
with a shake of the head, having made up his
mind some time ago that he must learn to do
without fun.
But we shall be paid for it," cried Will, clap-
ping her hands with the double delight of telling
the best part of her story, and seeing Jimmy's
sober face clear suddenly as if the sun had burst
forth with great brilliancy.
"Really ? How much? Can I sing well enough?"
and he clutched her arm excitedly, for this unex-
pected ray of hope dazzled him.
Some of them will have ten dollars a week,

and some more-the real nice



ones, like Lee, the
singing boy, who
is a wonder," an-
swered Will, in
the tone of one
well informed on
such points.
"Ten dollars!"
gasped Jimmy,
for the immensity
of the sum took
his breath away.
Could I get
that? Howlong?
Where do we
go ? Do they
really want us fel-
lows ? Are you
sure it's all true?"
It was all in
the paper, and
then Miss Pym,
the teacher who

boards at our house, told Ma about it. The folks
advertised for school children, sixty of 'em, and
will really pay; and Ma said I could go and try,
and all the money I get I'm going to put in a
bank and have for my own. Don't you believe
me now ? "
Miss Pym and the newspapers settled the mat-
ter in Jimmy's mind, and made him more anxious
than before about the other point.
"Do you think I would have any chance? he


r I I; I-5
I i


asked, still holding Will, who seemed inclined for by the prospect as he was; sewing was such weary
another dance. work.
"I know you would. Don't you do splendidly The interview with Miss Pymr was a most
at school? And did n't they want you for a choir- encouraging one, and it was soon settled that
boy, only your Jimmy should go with Will to try for a place on
mother could n't the morrow.
spare you?" an- And I '1l get it, too i he said to himself, as
swered Will, de- .he kissed Kitty's thin cheek, full of the sweet hope
cidedly, for Jim- -that he might be the means of bringing back life
my did love music I ,- and color to the little face he loved so well.
and had a sweet -- He was so excited he could not sleep, and
little pipe of his beguiled the long hours by humming under his
own, as she well breath all the airs he knew belonging to the already
knew. -. popular opera. Next morning he flew about his
"Mother will work as if for a wager, and when Will came for
have to spare me him there was not a happier heart in all the city
now, if they pay than the hopeful one that thumped under Jimmy's
like that. I can thread-bare best jacket.
work all day and -i- Such a crowd of girls and boys as they found at
do without sleep the hall where they were told to apply for inspec-

to earn money -_
this way. Oh, e
Will, I 'm so glad
you came, for I
was just ready to JOSEPHINE.
run away to sea.
There did n't seem anything else to do," whis-
pered Jimmy in a choky sort of tone, as hopes
and fears struggled together in his boyish mind.
Run as fast as you like and I'll go too. We '11
sail in the 'Pinafore' and come home with our
pockets full of money."
"'Sing, hey, the merry maiden and the tar!"'
burst out Will, who was so full of spirits she
could not keep still another minute.
Jimmy joined in, and the fresh voices echoed
through the street so pleasantly that Mrs. Peters
stopped scolding her six squabbling children,
while Kitty's moaning changed to a feeble little
sound of satisfaction, for "brother's" lullabies
were her chief comfort and delight.
We shall lose school, you know, for we act in
the afternoon, not the evening. I don't care; but
you will, you like to study so well. Miss Pym
did n't like it at first, but Ma said it would help the
poor folks, and a little fun would n't hurt the chil-
dren. I thought of you right away, and if you
don't get as much money as I do, you shall have
some of mine, so Kitty can go to the country soon."
Will's merry face grew very sweet and kind as
she said that, and Jimmy was glad his mother
called him just then, because he did not know how
to thank this friend in need. When he came out
with the parcel of vests he looked like a different
boy, for Mrs. Nelson had told him to go and find
out all about it, and had seemed as much dazzled

tion Such a chirping and piping went on there,
it sounded like a big cage full of larks and linnets !
And by and by, when the trial was over, such a
smiling troop of children as was left to be drilled
by the energetic gentlemen who had the matter in
hand! Among this happy band stood our Jimmy,
chosen for his good voice, and Will, because of her
bright face and lively, self-possessed manners.
They could hardly wait to be dismissed, and it was
a race home to see who should be first to tell the

good news. Jimmy tried to

be quiet on Kitty's
account, but failed
entirely; and it was
a pleasant sight to
see the boy run into

his mother's arms,
crying joyfully:
I'm in! I 'm in!
47,, Ten dollars a week!
"I can hardly be-
lieve it! and weary
Mrs. Nelson drop-
S ped her needle to
indulge in a few
S- moments of delight-
I N ful repose.
S -_ If it goes well
_-- they may want us
-- for a month or six
Weeks, the manager
SIR JOSEPH, K. C. B. said. Oh just think,
may be I '11 get fifty
or sixty dollars and Baby will get well right off,"
cried Jimmy, in an arithmetical sort of rapture, as
he leaned above Kitty, who clapped her hands
without quite knowing what the joy was about.



AFTER that day, Jimmy led a very happy life, for
he loved music and enjoyed the daily drill with his
mates, though it was long before he saw the inside
of the theater. Will
knew a good deal
about it, for an
actor's family had
boarded with her
mother, and the lit-
tie girl had been
behind the scenes. /
But to Jimmy, who ...
had only seen one ,
fairy play, all was -
very strange when [I I
at last he went upon '.
the stage, for the f
glittering world he '
expected was gone,
and all was dusty,
dark and queer,with
trap doors under =- '
foot,machinery over
head, and a wilder- LITTLE BUTTERCUP.
ness of scenery
jumbled together in the drollest way. He was
all eyes and ears, and enjoyed himself immensely
as he came and went, sung and acted with the
troop of lads who made up the sailor chorus. It
was a real ship to him in spite of painted can-
non, shaky masts, and cabin doors that led no-
where. He longed to run up the rigging; but
as that was forbidden, for fear of danger, he con-
tented himself by obeying orders with nautical
obedience, singing with all his might, and taking
great satisfaction in his blue suit with the magical
letters H. M. S. Pinafore" round his cap.
Day by day all grew more and more interesting.
His mother was never tired of hearing his advent-
ures, he sung Kitty to sleep with the new songs,
and the neighbors took such a friendly interest in
his success that they called him Lord Nelson, and
predicted that he would be as famous as his great
When the grand day came at last, and the crew
of jolly young tars stood ready to burst forth with
the opening chorus,

"We sail the ocean blue,
Our saucy ship's a beauty,
We're gallant men and true,
And bound to do our duty!"

Jimmy hardly knew whether he stood on his head
or his heels at first, for, in spite of many rehearsals,
everything seemed changed. Instead of daylight,

gas shone everywhere, the empty seats were full,
the orchestra played splendidly, and when the
curtain rose, a sea of friendly faces welcomed them,
and the pleasant sound of applause made the
hearts under the blue jackets dance gayly.
How those boys did sing! how their eyes shone,
and their feet kept time to the familiar strains!
with what a relish they hitched up their trousers
and lurched about, or saluted and cheered as the
play demanded With what interest they watched
the microscopic midshipmite, listened to Ralph as
his sweet voice melodiously told the story of his
hapless love, and smiled on pretty Josephine who
was a regular bluebird without the scream.
"Aint this fun?" whispered Jimmy's next
neighbor, taking advantage of a general burst of
laughter, as the inimitable little bum-boat woman
advertised her wares with captivating drollery.
"Right down jolly !" answered Jimmy, feeling
that a series of somersaults across the stage would
be an immense relief to the pent-up emotions of
his boyish soul. For under all the natural excite-
ment of the hour, deep down lay the sweet certainty
that he was earning health for Kitty, and it made
his heart sing for joy more blithely than any jovial
chorus to which he lent his happy voice.
But his bliss was not complete till the stately Sir
Joseph, K. C. B., had come aboard, followed by
"his sisters and his cousins and his aunts; for
among that flock of devoted relatives in white

muslin and gay
ribbons was Will.
Standing in the
front row, her
bright face was
good to see, for
her black eyes
sparkled, every
hair on her head
curled its best,
her cherry bows
streamed in the
breeze, and her
feet pranced irre-
sistibly at the
lively parts of the
music. She long-
ed to dance the
hornpipe which
the little Quaker
aunt did so cap-
itally, but being
denied that honor,

, I- 2. lO .


distinguished herself by the

comic vigor with which she "polished up the
handle of the big front door," and did the other
"business" recorded by the gallant "ruler of
the Queen's Navee."




She and Jimmy nodded to one another behind
the admiral's august back, and while Captain

Corcoran was singing to the

S ~..

V -i '



successful launch, and the

moon, and Buttercup
suffering the pangs
of wemorse, "
the young people
had a gay time
behind the scenes.
Jimmy and Will
sat upon a green
baize bank to com-
pare notes, while
the relatives flew
about like butter-
flies,and the sailors
talked base-ball,
jack-knives, and
other congenial
topics, when not
envying Sir Joseph
his cocked hat, and
the captain his
It was a very
merry little crew set

sail with a fair wind and every prospect of a
prosperous voyage. When the first perform-
ance was over, our two children left their fine
feathers behind them, like Cinderella when the
magic hour struck, and went gayly home, feeling
much elated, for they knew they should go back to
fresh triumphs, and they were earning money by
their voices like Jenny Lind and Mario. How
they pitied other boys and girls who could not go
in at that mysterious little door; how important
they felt as parts of the spectacle about which
every one was talking, and what millionaires they
considered themselves as they discussed their earn-
ings and planned what to do with the prospective
fortunes !
That was the beginning of many busy, happy
weeks for both the children; weeks which they
long remembered with great pleasure, as did older
and wiser people, for that merry, innocent little
opera proved that theaters can be made the scenes
of harmless amusement, and opened to a certain
class of young people a new and profitable field for
their talents. So popular did this small company
become that the piece went on to the summer
vacation, and was played in the morning as well
as afternoon, to satisfy the crowds who wished to
see and hear it.
Never had the dear old Boston Museum, which
so many of us have loved and haunted for years,
seen such a pretty sight as one of those morning
performances. It was the perfection of harmless
merry-making, and the audience was as pleasant a

spectacle as that upon the stage. Fathers and
mothers stole an hour from their busy lives to come
and be children with their children, irresistibly
attracted and charmed by the innocent fun, the
gay music that bewitched the ear one could hardly
tell why, and the artless acting of those who are
always playing parts, whether the nursery or the
theater is their stage.
The windows stood open, and sunshine and
fresh air came in to join the revel. Babies crowed
and prattled, mammas chatted together, old peo-
ple found they had not forgotten how to laugh,
and boys and girls rejoiced over the discovery of a
new ..i., hlir for holidays. It was good to be there,
and in spite of all the discussion in papers and
parlors, no harm came to the young mariners, but
much careful training of various sorts, and well-
earned wages that went into pockets which sorely
needed a silver lining.
So the good ship Pinafore sailed and sailed
for many prosperous weeks, and when at last she
came into port and dropped anchor for the season
she was received with a salute of general approba-
tion for the successful engagement out of which
she came with her flags flying and not one of her
gallant crew killed or wounded. Well pleased
with their share of the glory, officers and men went
ashore to spend their prize money with true sailor
generosity, all eager to ship for another cruise
in the autumn if their services should be needed.
But long be-
fore that time,
Able Seaman
James Nelson
had sent his
S.. family out into
the country;
S .' mother beg-
.. .' ,.. going Will to
take good care
of her dear boy
till he could
join them, and
his sister Kitty
throwing back
--- kisses as she
=_- i smiled good-
bye with cheeks
already rosier
for all the com-
BILL BOBSTAY, THE BOS'N. forts"brother"
had earned for
her. Jimmy would not desert his ship while she
floated, but managed to spend his Sundays out
of town, often taking Will with him as first mate,


and, thanks to her lively tongue, friends were
soon made for the new-comers. Mrs. Nelson
found plenty of sewing, Kitty grew strong and
well in the fine air, and the farmer with whom
they lived, seeing what a handy lad the boy was,
offered him work and wages for the summer, so all
could be independ-
ent and together.
With this comfort-
able prospect be- '
fore him, Jimmy .-
sang away like a I
contented black- .-I
bird, never tiring .
of his duty, for he
was a general fav-
orite, and Kitty
literally strewed his I
way with flowers
gathered by her
own grateful little -- --
hands. '
When the last 2
day came, he was
in such spirits that \
he was found doing
double-shuffles in TIDSHIPMITE.
corners, hugging
the midshipmite, who was a little chap of about
Kitty's age, and treating his messmates to pea-
nuts with a lavish hand. Will had her hornpipe,
also, when the curtain was down; kissed every
one of the other sisters, cousins and aunts" and
joined lustily in the rousing farewell cheers given
by the crew.
A few hours later, a cheerful-looking boy might
have been seen trudging toward one of the railway
stations. A new hat, brave in blue streamers,
was on his head, a red balloon struggled to escape
from one hand, a shabby carpet-bag, stuffed full,
was in the other, and a pair of shiny shoes creaked
briskly as if the feet inside were going on a very
pleasant errand.
About this young traveler, who walked with a
sailor-like roll and lurch, revolved a little girl chat-
tering like a magpie, and occasionally breaking
into song as if she couldn't help it.
"Be sure you come next Saturday; it wont be
anything like such fun if you don't go halves,"
said the boy, beaming at his lively companion as
he hauled down the impatient balloon which
seemed inclined to break from its moorings.

"Yes I know
That is so !"
hummed the girl with a skip to starboard that she
might bear a hand with the bag. Keep some
cherries for me, and don't forget to give Kit the
doll I dressed for her."
I should n't have been going myself if it had n't
been for you, Will. I never shall forget that,"
said Jimmy, whom intense satisfaction rendered
rather more sedate than his friend.
Running away to sea is great fun,

'With a tar that ploughs the water!'"

sung Will in spite of herself.

"'And a gallant captain's daughter,' "

echoed Jimmy, smiling across the carpet-bag.
Then both joined in an irrepressible chorus of
"Dash it! Dash it as a big man nearly upset
them and a dog barked madly at the balloon.
Being safely landed in the train, Jimmy hung
out of the window till the last minute discussing
his new prospects with Will, who stood on tiptoe
outside bubbling over with fun.
I '11 teach you to make butter and cheese and
you shall be my dairy woman, for I mean to be a
farmer," he said, just as the bell rang.
"All right, I 'd like that ever so much," and
then the irrepressible madcap burst out to the great
amusement of the
"' For you might have .-r/ '
been a Roosian, .- .
A Frenchman, Turk or r '
Proosian, "
Or an Ital-i-an.'" .

At this, Jimmy
could not resist
shouting back as
the train began to
"'But in spite of all
To belong to other na-
I 'm an Amer-i-can.'"



Then he sub-
sided, to think over DEADEYE.
the happy holiday
before him and the rich cargo of comfort, inde-
pendence and pleasure he had brought home from
his successful cruise in the "Pinafore."



FOUR little birds all flew from their nest, -
Flew north, flew south, to the east and the west;
They could think of nothing so good to do,
So they spread their wings and away they flew.



FROM the earliest times men have been try-
ing to look ahead. The ancient Egyptians had
oracles where their gods were supposed to answer
the questions of men by dreams and other ways;
the ancient Greeks also had famous oracles, which
people came from far-off lands to consult; the
Romans killed certain fowls or animals, and
guessed at the future by the looks of their internal
organs; the Hebrews and the Babylonians had
their own peculiar ways of finding out what was to
happen. The world has not yet outgrown the
longing to look ahead. The Hindu to-day sets a
lamp afloat on his sacred river, and judges of the
future by the length of time it burns; the China-
man consults his "wise men," who pretend to
understand signs; the ignorant African takes
notice of the cries of birds and animals; the
English-not long ago-tried to learn by help of
what they call "witches"; and Spiritualists, even
now, believe the predictions of a medium."
No serious attempt to look into the future has
been made for a long time by intelligent people,
and the old customs have become a frolicsome
trying of "charms," especially on.one night of the
year. It is curious enough that the night selected
is the eve of the festival of All Saints, which was

established in the seventh century by a pope of
Rome, in honor of all the saints who had no par-
ticular day assigned to them. The Romans
brought this festival to England; there it became
All Hallows, and the evening before it, Hallow-even
or Halloween, and that was the night sacred to
charms and games. In the seventeenth century,
England gave up the night to feasting and frolick-
ing. Nuts and apples were plenty from one end
of the island to the other, and "Nut-crack Night"
was the name given to it.
In England, the revels were.for fun, such as div-
ing for apples floating in a tub of water, and, of
course, getting very wet; or trying to snatch in
the teeth an apple on one end of a stick, which had
a lighted candle at the other end, and, being hung
by a string, could be spun around very fast, so
that the players often seized the candle instead
of the fruit; or a playful fortune-telling by nam-
ing nuts, roasting them before the fire, and watch-
ing their conduct when heated,-whether they
burned steadily, or bounced away, or burst with a
noise, each movement of the charmed nut being
of great importance.
One nut test was tried, by grinding and mixing
together a walnut, hazel-nut, and nutmeg, making

* See Frontispiece.


into pills, with butter and sugar, and swallowing
them on going to bed. Wonderful dreams would
follow (which was not surprising).
In superstitious Scotland, the night was given
entirely to serious and sometimes frightful attempts
to peer into the future by means of charms. One
way of trying fortune was to throw a ball of blue
yarn out of a window, and wind it into a ball again
from the other end. Near the last something
would hold it fast, when the winder must ask:
"Who holds?" The answer would name one
who was to have importance in the questioner's
Another Scotch custom was pulling kale-
stalks." A young person went blindfolded into
the garden, pulled up the first kale or cabbage
stalk he touched, and carried it into the house.
The whole future was read from that stalk: the
size indicated the stature of the future partner in
life; the quantity of earth at the roots showed the
amount of his, or her, fortune; the taste of the
pith told what the temper would be; and when the
stalk was placed over the door, the first name of
the person entering was the fated name.
The island of Lewes, on the coast of Scotland,
had some curious customs. Young women made

a "dumb cake," and baked it before the fire with
certain ceremonies and in perfect silence, expect-
ing to see wonders; and the people also sacrificed
to a sea-god called Shong, throwing a cup of ale
into the sea, and calling on him to give them
plenty of sea-weed to enrich their grounds.
In another Scotch trial, a girl would go into a
barn, holding a winnowing sieve, and stand alone,
with both doors open, to see her fate.
The fashion of trying charms is now nearly out-
grown among English-speaking people. It sur-
vives in America as a pleasant frolic for a social
gathering. In our own day, young people sow
hemp-seed," "eat apples before the glass," "go
down the cellar stairs backward," holding a candle
and a mirror. They also pop chestnuts,"
"launch walnut-shells" holding tapers, and try
the three-saucer" test of the future.
In some of our cities, the boys on Halloween
collect old tea-kettles, boots, large stones, etc., and
deposit them in clean vestibules, ringing the door-
bell and running away.
Thus the 31st of October-set apart by a pope as
a religious festival-became, in superstitious times,
"The Witches' Night;" crossed the ocean as a sea-
son for frolics, and ends with a street-boy's joke.



THERE was once a great Duke Leopold,
Who had wit and wisdom, as well as gold,
And used all three in a liberal way
For the good of his people, the stories say.
To see precisely what they would do,
And how nearly a notion of his came true,
He went from his palace one night alone-
When a brooding storm and starless skies
Hid his secret from prying eyes-
And set midway in the road a stone
It was not too big for a man to move-
The Duke was confident on that score;
Yet the weight of the thing was enough to
The strength of one's muscle-and something
" Something more," laughed the Duke, as he
Through wind and rain on his homeward road :

" This time to-morrow I reckon will show
If a notion of mine is correct or no."

From a window high in the palace wall,
He watched next day for the passers-by,
And grimly smiled as they one and all,
Where they found the stone, left the stone to lie.
A lumbering ox-cart came along,
And Hans, the driver, was stout and strong;
One sturdy shove with the right intent
Would have cleared the track of impediment
But whatever appeared to be needless work,
Or work that another might possibly do,
Hans made it a point of duty to shirk.
He stopped his team for a minute or two,
And scratched his head as he looked about
For the easiest way of getting out:
Then-"Lucky for me that the road is wide,"
He lazily murmured, and drove aside.





The next that came was a grenadier
Bristling in scarlet and gold array;
And he whistled a tune both loud and clear.

To clear their road of this sort of stuff?
A pretty thing for a grenadier
To stumble against, and bark his shins!

I' '


,II 48I1I
V;ii, )~.*i& f
A fcc


But he took no note of the rock in his way.
When its ragged edges scraped his knee-
" Thunder and lightning! what's this ?" says he.
" Have n't the blockheads sense enough

If I knew the rascal that planted it here-
Yes, surely I 'd make him see his sins."
He clanked his sword, and he tossed his plume,
And he strutted away in a terrible fume;



But as for moving the stone-not he !--
"It is just," said the Duke, "as I thought it
would be."

A little later, still watching there,
He spied on their way to the village Fair,
A troop of merchants, each with his pack
Strapped on a well-fed animal's back.
" Now let us see," with a nod of his head
And a merry twinkle, His Highness said:
" Perhaps this worshipful multitude
Will lend a hand for the public good."
But alack the company, man and horse,
Hardly paused in their onward course.
Instead of cantering four abreast.
Two by two they went east and west;
And when they had left the stone behind-
" To think of a thing like that," said they,
" Blocking the high-road for half a day!"
It never reached the collective mind
In the light of a matter that implied
Some possible claim on the other side.

So a week, and two, and three slipped past:
The rock in the road lay bedded fast,
And the people grumbling went and came,
Each with a tongue that was glib to blame,
But none with a hand to help. At last
Duke Leopold, being quite content
With the issue of his experiment,
Ordered his herald to sound a blast,
And summon his subjects far and near
A word from his high-born lips to hear.
From far and near at the trumpet call,
They gathered about the palace wall,
And the Duke, atfthe head of a glittering train,

Rode through the ranks of wondering eyes
To the spot where the stone so long had lain.
I will leave you to picture their blank surprise,
When he leaped from his horse with a smiling
And royal hands pushed the stone from its

But the stare of amazement became despair
When the Duke stooped down with his gracious
And took from a hollow the rock had hid
A casket shut with a graven lid.
The legend upon it he read aloud
To a silent, and very crest-fallen crowd:-
" tisj box is for bim, anb for )im aloin
anIi talus tle trouble to mobh ttis soanu."
Then he raised the lid, and they saw the shine
Of a golden ring, and a purse of gold;
" Which might have been yours," said Duke
" But now I regret to say is mine.
It was I who for reasons of my own
Hindered your highway with the stone.
What the reasons were you have doubtless
Before this time. And as for the rest,
I think there is nothing more to say.
My dear good friends, I wish you good-day!"
He mounted his horse, and the glittering train
After their leader galloped again.
With sound of trumpet and gleam of gold
They flashed through the ranks of downcast eyes,
And the crowd went home feeling rather "sold"
-Perhaps, however, a lesson lies
In the story, that none of us need despise.



FATHER," said Fred Matthews, there 's old
Mr. Carothers and Sam, in their boat."
"Right ahead of us," added Tom, from the bows.
Mr. Matthews stopped rowing and looked around.
There they were, and it looked as if they, too,
were on their way home.
'"What luck?" asked Mr. Matthews, when the
two boats drew a little nearer to each other.
Pretty good," said Mr. Carothers. Sam,
my boy, show 'em the fish."
Sam was an older and taller boy than either

Fred or Tom, but the three strings of fish he lifted
up, one after another, were pretty heavy for him.
How 've you done?" asked Mr. Carothers, as
he took hold of his oars again.
Oh, not very well. We 've been out a dozen
times since we came, and we don't seem to find the
right place," said Mr. Matthews.
"Why, the lake 's just swarming with fish.
Guess you have n't found out the knack of it."
"Guess not. But I thought I knew how to
catch fish. Fred, show him our string."


Fred did so, and he was a good deal ashamed of
them. They looked so few and so small compared
with the lot lifted up by Sam Carothers.
"Tell ye what, neighbor!" exclaimed the old
gentleman, "I 've twice what I.'ll know what to
do with. Jest you take one of my strings."
Mr. Matthews objected, a little, but Mr. Car-
others would not take "no" for an answer; and
then, it was such a very fine mess of fish.
"He 's a very neighborly man, I declare," said
Mr. Matthews, as he pulled away toward the land-
ing in front of his own house. "But he 's the
luckiest fisherman I ever heard of."
The boys thought so, too, and they said so,
when they got ashore. They said it to Parker, the
colored man their father had hired to take care of
his horses, when he bought the farm on the shore
of the lake.
"Yes, sah!" exclaimed Parker. He 's jest
the luckiest. He is. He callers had good luck.
When he kep' de store at de corners, he made a
heap ob money. Den he 's de luckiest farmer
in dese parts. Allers has a good crap. Nuffin
ebber goes wrong wid his craps and his critters.
Yes, sah Old man Carothers has de luck."
Wish I knew how he catches so many fish,"
said Fred.
"Jest you watch him, den. Mebbe you kin
l'arn de secret."
Let 's watch him," said Tom.
Parker had a good deal more to say, but it was ar-
ranged between him and the boys that they should
try for a lesson in fishing from Mr. Carothers.
They only had to wait a few days before they
found an opportunity. Mr. Matthews had only
laughed at them and told them:
You have i't lived on the shore of the lake so
long as he has. The fish know him better than
they know you and me."
"Then, said Tom, "I should think they 'd
know enough to keep away from him. He's a
good deal more dangerous than we are."
Unless they want to get caught," laughed his
But the boys and Parker were out, the next
morning, rowing along just near enough to their
neighbor's boat, not to have it seem that they
were following him.
"'T aint de boat," said Parker. "His 'n's painted
w'ite, jest like our'n, and it 's peaked in front, an'
de fish could n't tell 'em apart onless dey was to
flop on board."
"No," said Fred, it is n't the boat. May be
it's the bait."
No, it is n't de bait. I asked him all 'bout dat.
He uses winners and grasshoppers and worms, jest
like we do."

"Perhaps," said Tom, "it 's the way he puts
'em on."
Guess not. Dey goes on de hook 'bout so,
any how. It 's de way he fishes."
We '11 find out," said Fred. "He's anchoring
his boat, now."
"Just so far from de shoah," remarked Parker.
"We must 'member dat."
They rowed slowly along as they talked, and
there was not a motion made by old Mr. Carothers
or by Sam that they did not make a note of.
The old gentleman shouted to them, cheerily
hoping they would have a nice day of it and catch
a good string of fish ; but just then he had to stop
talking and pull in a fine, large yellow perch, while
Sam was taking a sun-fish from his own hook.
"They 've begun to pull 'em in already," said
Fred. Mr. Carothers, can you tell us where
there 's a good fishing-ground ? "
Anywhere. Anywhere. The lake 's just
swarming. All you 've got to do is to know how."
"Dat 's it," said Parker. "Dat 's all de trouble
'bout anything in dis wicked world. Somehow
mos' people don't seem to fine out 'bout fishing'
or 'bout anything else. Dar 's lots of things I 'd
like to know how."
So would I," said Fred. "Now let 's row
along and do exactly as he and Sam did."
They pulled around a bend in the shore of the
lake and Parker was about to drop the anchor
when Tom exclaimed:
Wait, Parker, wait. Sam Carothers poured a
lot of stuff into the water, just before they began."
"Nuffin but dirt and sand and rubbish," said
Parker. I 've seen 'em do it afore dis."
"But we must do exactly as he did," said Fred,
if we 're to have any luck."
"So. Den it 's easy nuff to pull ashoah for
some dirt."
It was not far to go, true enough, and they
brought back half a bushel of rubbish. Then,
as soon as they were anchored, at precisely the
right distance from land, Parker tumbled the
"dirt into the water.
Now we '11 catch 'em," he shouted.
"They both fished on one side," said Fred.
So will we," said Tom. They held their
rods so high."
There was some dispute as to the precise man-
ner in which Sam Carothers and his father threw
their lines into the water, but before it could be
settled, Fred had a bite.
"I knew I was right," he exclaimed. Got a
bull-head, first thing."
I was right, too," shouted Tom, at the same
instant. Here comes a pumpkin-seed."
Sho !" grumbled Parker. But in another


moment he added, exultingly, I was de mostest
right. Mine's a perch. Wot a wopper !"
So it was, and Fred and Sam imitated Parker
the next time they threw in their lines. Perch
were much better luck than bull-heads or pumpkin-
That was a very good beginning, and for a little
while all three of them were boasting to each other
that they had found the secret of Mr. Carothers,
" and it was n't much of a secret, after all."
But then, for some reason or other, the fish
stopped biting.
Boys," said Parker, after they had sat a good
while in the hot sun without so much as a nibble,
-" Boys, all de good of dat ar' secret am gone."
Seems to me it 's used up," said Fred, and
we have n't caught anything like a string of fish."
No big ones," said Tom. Most of 'em are
shiners and little pumpkin-seeds."
Hold on," shouted Parker. I 's got a cod-
How it does pull! "
It '11 break his pole."
Or pull his hook off."
"Boys," exclaimed Parker, "jus' you keep
still, will you? Dis aint no common kind ob fish.
I 's got to play him and pull him in slow and
Parker was evidently in a high state of excite-
ment, and the perspiration was standing out on
his dark face in great beads.
How his "pole" did bend, and how steadily
and carefully he did work on that tremendous bite !
No one would have thought a little lake like that,
where no sharks ever came, could have furnished
such a bite.
Tell ye wot, boys, ole man Carothers aint
had no sech luck as dis. Not dis morning; nor
Sam nuther. Aint I glad dat hook ob mine 's a
big one. De line, too,-it's a mighty good line."
The boys almost held their breath, and they
had no bites of their own to attend to just then.
But it was quite as good fun to sit still and keep
the boat balanced, while Parker worked at his
Slowly and cautiously he drew it along nearer
the boat, and then he began to pull it up through
the water.
At last they could see it !
Dimly, at first, like a dark shadow coming
toward the light,-and then more plainly.
Why, Parker," exclaimed Fred, it's a log "
"It 's an old branch. of a tree," said Tom.
That's all."
Sho I declar'! To t'ink of dat fish pullin'
de hook out ob his own mouf and stickin' it into
dat ar snag It 's de meanest luck ebber was.

But he was n't any common fish; I knowed dat
w'en he bit."
The boys were hardly ready to swallow Parker's
explanation, and they began to argue the matter,
while he was getting his hook out of the long,
water-soaked piece of drift-wood he had drawn to
the surface.
They might have said more, but just then Fred
had a bite. That is, he felt something on his line,
but it had been there for some time. He jerked
it in, almost frantically, for the pull was a hard
"An eel! an eel!" screamed Tom, in great
delight. The luck 's yours, Fred. That 's the
first eel we've caught."
"It's a big one, too," said Fred. "But just
see how it has swallowed my hook. Seems as if a
foot of the line had gone down his throat."
So it did, and he was now following up that
piece of mischief, like the angry eel that he was,
by squirming himself into a great snarl and tangle
with all the rest of that line.
He succeeded perfectly, and Fred remarked,
very soberly:
I don't want to catch any more eels. There 's
no use in my trying to get that hook out."
"Never mind," said Tom. "You 've another
hook and line. Let that one go till we get ashore."
I '11 untwist it for you, then," added Parker.
But we'd best git away from dis yer place.
Dar's no luck in eels."
"Hey!" exclaimed Tom. "It's my turn. I
knew there was something nibbling at my hook."
Mebbe it's a snag," said Parker.
Or an eel," said Fred.
"No, it is n't. He 's a-coming. It does n't bite
like any other kind of fish."
There was, in fact, no good reason why it should.
Why, to be accurate, it should bite like any kind
of fish. For when Tom brought his nibble" to
the surface, Parker shouted:
Snappin' turtle Snappin' turtle Look out
you don't git yer fingers in his mouf. Oh, but
can't dey bite Dey 's wicious !"
Somehow or other, however, the hook had
caught that turtle in his upper jaw, so that as long
as Tom kept up a steady pull there was no help
for it.
In he came, a great heavy fellow, nearly a foot
long, and cl.: ,i.ill out of temper at being lifted
out of the water.
How '111 I ever get my hook out of him?" said
Tom. He 's a good deal worse than an eel."
Wuss dan any oder fish," remarked Parker.
"He 'd bite a hole in a side ob sole leather.
Sho !"
As Parker said that, the turtle, now landed safely



on the bottom of the boat, skillfully cast himself
loose from the hook. It had merely caught in the
hard cartilage of his jaw and had not stuck into it
beyond the barb.
"He 's loose exclaimed Fred.
So 's my hook," said Tom. Don't you wish
your eel had known enough to do that ?"
"Yes, I do. But a turtle can't squirm like an
"He can bite, though. He 's crawling to the
end of the boat."
"Jes' let him creep," said Parker. "I guess
he 's in a state ob mind to not be interrupted."

Guess we need to," said Parker. Dar mus'
be part ob it we did n't see. Wot we foun' out
had too many turtles and eels and snags in it.
Don't I wish I 'd pulled in dat woppin' big fish ob
mine, 'stead ob de codlamper."
The boys had their own notion about Parker's
wonderful bite, and were once more beginning to
argue the case with him when they rowed out
beyond the bend in the lake shore.
Why !" exclaimed Fred, Sam and his father
have gone."
So they have !" said Tom.
Gone?" said Parker. Tell ye wot, den, de

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

_--. --,---- ---t--.,- ---e _-

; -------Af -,f l ---= =k,--- -- ------


What '11 we do with him?"
"A snappin' turtle is a kine ob animal wot kin
look out for himself wonderful well. Jest you look
out for him, dat's all. Guess we 'd best pull up
an' git out of dis yer. It's all eels and snags and
sich like."
Fred and Tom were quite willing to take Parker's
advice, and, as soon as the anchor was pulled in, he
took the oars. The morning was about gone now,
and Tom suggested that they should go back and
get more information from Mr. Carothers.
"May be," said Fred, "we can learn more of
his secret."

bes' notion for dis crowd is jest to go an' drop our
anchor whar he dropped his'n. Mebbe he forgot
to take his luck home wid him."
Guess he caught as many fish as he wanted
before he went," remarked Fred.
He was pulling them in fast enough, when we
saw him," replied Tom.
They were about right, for Mr. Carothers had
come out, that morning, not so much for fun as for
a mess of fresh fish for his dinner, and as soon as
he had caught what he wanted he went home again.
Very carefully indeed did Parker row around,
measuring with his eyes the distance from the



shore, until he and his young friends were sure
they were over the right spot.
But we have n't anything to throw in," said
We can go ashore and get a peck of dirt," said
Nebber mind," said Parker, as he dropped the
anchor. We must n't put any ob our rubbish in
along wid his'n. Not unless we want to spile de
That seemed reasonable, and in a minute or so
all three of them had their lines out.
"Sho!" exclaimed Parker, as he pulled in a
good-sized perch. "De ole man lef' his luck
behind him."
Here 's more of it!" shouted Fred. "Another
And I 've got a pickerel," added Tom, with a
hurrah that was very imprudent; but the fish
continued to bite very well, in spite of the noise,
for a while.
"We've got it now," said Fred. "We can
catch all the fish we want, anywhere, after this."
Just then there was a dull splash at the bow of
the boat, and Parker exclaimed:
"Dar goes de turtle. Good riddance to bad
rubbidge. I 's glad he 's gone, anyhow."
I 'd have liked to take him home and show
him," said Tom, regretfully. He was such a big

So do I," said Fred.
Wish we'd kept him," said Tom.
"And don't I wish," groaned Parke-r, dat I 'd
pulled in de big fish de snag sp'iled for me."
Guess it was all snag," slyly remarked Fred.
De whole ob dat bite? Sho Don't I know?
Did a snag ebber pull in dat way, and jerk, and
wobble, and mos' take de pole and all out ob my
han's? No, I guess not. I knows a fish from a
There was no use in arguing against Parker's
convictions, and he even seemed a little sensitive
about it. So, after they had fished a good while,
and were very sure the turtle had spoiled their
luck entirely, they once more pulled up their
anchor and started for home.
It was not a very long row, and when they drew
near the landing, there were Mr. Matthews and
Mrs. Matthews and the younger children, waiting
for them.
"Well, boys," said their father, "what success
this time?"
Splendid said Fred, as he lifted one string
of fish and Tom another. Just look at them."
"Why, boys," said their mother, "how well
you have done! And some of them are of a very
good size, too."
"Yes, ma'am!" exclaimed Parker. "Dey 's
sizable fish, but dey is n't one ob 'em so big as de

one." big fish I caught."
So he was," said Fred. Nobody '11 believe And where is he ? I 'd like to see him."
he was so big." Yes, ma'am But to tell de troof, I does n't
But there was no doubt about it. The turtle know jest whar he is."
had managed to climb on the seat, with the help Then you lost him?"
of one of the oars, and had plunged overboard Yes, ma'am! He loss himself. You see, dar
without the least fear of drowning himself, was a snag, and de hook got caught in de snag,
He was gone, but so, as they shortly discovered, somehow, an' de fish got away-- "
was all their luck. "And 0, mother," interrupted Tom, "I caught
That is, all the fish had gone. the biggest kind of a snapping-turtle."
What can have become of them," asked Fred, Did you, my son ? Where is he ?"
ruefully. "Why, mother, we had him in the boat ever
"Guess I know," said Parker. I 've heard so long, and then he dove into the lake and got
tell dey does n't like turtles for neighbors. Dey away."
saw de ole rascal come in among 'em, and dey "Did he? I'd have liked to see him. Was
moved away." he large ?"
That was very probably the truth of the matter, Yes, mother, he was," said Fred. "And I
but the worst of it was that an hour went by and caught an eel."
hardly any of them came back again. Or if they. "And did he too get away ? "
came, they had made up their minds not to bite "No, mother, but he swallowed ever so much
any more. ,of my fish-line, and he snarled himself up in the
"I don't care," said Tom. "We've got the rest, and there he is now, in the bottom of the boat."
best string of fish we ever caught in this lake." Mrs. Matthews took a look at the eel, and so did
And we 've learned how," added Fred. her husband, and the latter said:
That's the great thing." "Fred, your eel looks as if he were having a
I's glad ole Mr. Carothers did n't take all his lawsuit."
luck home wid him," said Parker; "but I wish Fred hardly understood what his father meant,
we'd nebber cotched de turtle." but he replied:


Yes, father, and we 've found out Mr.
Carothers' secret. We 'll catch as many fish as
we want, now."
"Have you? Well, I 'm glad of that. And
Tom, have you found it out, too ? "
Course I have, father, or I would n't have
caught so many fish "
Or so much turtle."
0, father, it was the turtle drove away the
fish and spoiled our luck, when he went over-
"And Parker, did you find out the secret, too?"
Yes, sah Dar 's all de fish ebber was wanted
in dis yer lake. Lots ob 'em, so's you know how
to go for 'em."
"Well, Fred, I wish you 'd tell me, so I can
catch fish."
Oh, it is n't much. We saw just how Mr.
Carothers does it, and Sam. They anchor their
boat just so far from shore. And they throw a
peck of dirt into the water. And they throw their
lines into the water, just so,-I '11 show you next
time we go."
So'l1 I," said Tom.
Yes, sah added Parker. But dar's some
ob dat ar secret de ole man kerried home wid
May be he did," said Mr. Matthews, with a
merry sort of a laugh. "He and I have been
talking about it since he came in. He was over
here to borrow a newspaper."
"Oh, father," exclaimed Fred, "what did he
say it was? Have we got it right ?"
Well, not the whole of it."
"Did he tell you? Please, father, do let us
know. Is it anything about the color of his boat?"
Not exactly."
Was it de dirt?" respectfully inquired Parker.
"He did not speak of that, particularly, but
that had something to do with it."
I knew it! I knew it!" shouted Tom. "We'll
carry a barrelful next time we go."

I would n't fill the barrel with too much dirt,"
laughed Mr. Matthews. "I '11 tell you what Mr.
Carothers said when I asked him the secret."
Oh, father," said Fred, what did he say ? "
Why, he said it was no secret at all. All he
did was just to feed his fish."
Yes, sah remarked Parker. I knowed it
mus' be something ob dat kind. Feed de fish "
'But does he feed them every time he goes
out ?" asked Fred.
Perhaps not. But he picks out places that
suit him, and every now and then he or Sam will
go out there and throw overboard a quantity of old
stuff of one sort and another, such as fish like to
nibble at. So they get used to coming to those
places, and the big fish follow the little ones, and
when he and Sam want to catch a mess they know
just where to go."
"Yes, sah remarked Parker. "But dat don't
'count for dem big corn craps ob his'n. He's de
luckiest farmer 'round yer."
Oh," said Mr. Matthews, with another laugh.
" Perhaps he feeds his corn-fields. He 's just the
sort of man not to starve anything belonging to
I wish the boys would remember about that,"
said Mrs. Matthews, soberly. People who ex-
pect to get a great deal must always be ready to
"Yes, ma'am exclaimed Parker. Dey
mus' feed de fish."
Mother," said Tom, if I'd given that turtle
something to eat, do you s'pose he 'd have stayed
in the boat ? "
I don't know, my son."
Tom," said his father, the mail has come.
You take that newspaper over to Mr. Carothers
with my compliments, and say I 'm very much
obliged to him."
What for, father ?"
"For teaching you and me and all of us how to
catch fish."






"IT is strange that I did not recognize you
before," said Mr. Joyce next day; "and yet not
so strange either, for you have grown and altered
very much since we met, two years and a half
He might well say so. Eyebright had altered
very much. She was as tall as Mrs. Downs now,
and the fatigue and anxiety of the last fortnight
had robbed her of her childish look and made her
seem older than she really was. Any one might
have taken her for a girl of seventeen, instead of
fourteen-and-a-half. She and Mr. Joyce had had
several long talks, during which he learned all
about their leaving Tunxet, about her anxiety
for her father, and, for the first time, the full story
of the eventful night which had brought him to
Causey Island. He was greatly startled and
shocked when he comprehended what danger
Eyebright had run in doing his errand to the vil-
My dear, dear child," he said; you did me
a service I shall never forget. I could never have
forgiven myself had you lost your life in doing it.
If I had had my senses about me, I would not
have let you go; pray believe that. That unlucky
parcel came near to costing more than its worth,
for it was on its account that I set out to row over
from Malachi that afternoon."
To take the stage? suggested Eyebright.
"Yes-to catch the stage. The parcel had
money in it, and it was of great consequence that
it should reach Atterbury-where I live-as soon
as possible. You look curious, as if you wanted
to hear more. You like stories still, I see. I
remember how you begged me to tell you one that
night in Tunxet."
"Yes, I like them dearly. But I hardly ever
hear any now. There is no one up here to tell
Well, this is n't much of a story, or rather, it
would be a long one enough if I gave the whole
of it, but the part which I can tell is n't much.
Once upon a time there was a thief, and he stole a
quantity of money out of a bank. It was the Atter-
bury Bank, of which I am the president. The
theft came at the worst possible time, and there
was great danger, if the money could not be re-
covered, that the bank would have to stop pay-

ment. Fortunately, we got a clue to the thief's
whereabouts, and I started in search of him, and
caught him in a little village in Canada where he
had hidden himself away, and was feeling quite
safe-- What makes you look so excited ?"
"It is so interesting," said Eyebright. Were
n't you a bit afraid when you saw him? Did he
have a pistol? "
"Pistol? No. Ah, you are thinking of the
thieves in story-books, I see,-terrible villains with
masks and blunderbusses. The kind we have
nowadays are quite different,-pretty young men,
with nice mustaches and curly hair, who are veiy
particular about the fit of their gloves and what
kind of cigars they smoke. That 's the sort that
makes off with bank money. This thief of ours
was a young fellow, only a few years older than
my Charley, whom I had known all my life, and
his father before him. I would a great deal rather
have had it one of the old-fashioned kind with a
blunderbuss. Well, I found him, and I got back
the money-the bulk of it. A part he had
spent. Having secured it, my first thought was
how to get home quickest, for every day's delay
made a great difference to the bank. I had just
time to drive over and catch the Portland steamer,
but my wagon broke down six miles from Malachi,
and when I got in she had been gone an hour and
a half. I made inquiries, and found that the
Scrapplehead stage started next morning, so I hired
a boat and undertook to row across. It was not
storming then. The man who let the boat did
say that the weather looked 'kind of unsartin,' but
I could see no change; it was thick and murky,
but it had been that for days back, and I was in
such haste to get on, that I should probably have
tried it had it looked worse than it did. The dis-
tance is not great and I am used to rowing. Only
God's mercy saved me from capsizing when the
first squall struck the boat. After that, I have only
confused memories. All I could do was to keep
the boat head on to the waves, and it was so in-
tensely dark that I could see nothing. I must
have been rowing for hours in the blackness, with-
out the least idea where I was or which way I was
going, when I saw a light moving toward me.
That, from what you say, must have been your
lantern. I had just strength left to pull toward it
and the waves carried me on to the beach. My
arm was all right then. I must have hurt it when
I fell over the side of the boat. It was a miracu-




lous escape, and I believe that I owe my life to the
fact of your coming down as you did. I shall
never forget that, Eyebright."
People often say such things in the warm-heart-
edness of a great deliverance from danger, or
recovery from sickness, and when they get well
again or the danger fades from their minds, they
cool off a little. But Mr. Joyce did not cool; he
meant all he said. And very soon after came the
opportunity of proving his sincerity, for the great

pitiful to see. Her sorrow was all for Papa; she
did not realize as yet the loss which had fallen on
herself, but it would have been hard to find in the
world a little girl left in a more desolate position.
In losing Papa she had lost everything she had-
home, protection, support. Nobody wanted her;
she belonged to nobody. She could not stay on
the island; she could not go back to Tunxet;
there was no one in the world-unless it was
Wealthy-to whom she had the right to go for help

wave of trouble, which Eyebright had dimly felt and
dreaded, broke just then and fell upon her. The
boat in which Captain Jim Downs and her father
had sailed was picked up far down the coast, float-
ing bottom upward, and no doubt remained that
both had lost their lives in the storm of that
dreadful night.
How the poor child could have borne this terri-
ble news without Mr. Joyce at hand to help her,
I cannot imagine. She was almost broken-
hearted, and grew so thin and pale that it was
VOL. VI.-54.

or advice; and Wealthy herself was a poor wom-
an, with little in her power to give except advice.
Eyebright instinctively dreaded the idea of meet-
ing Wealthy, for she knew that Wealthy would
think if she did not say it, that it was all Papa's
fault; that he ought never to have taken her to
Maine, and the idea of having Papa blamed hurt her
terribly. These anxieties as yet were all swallowed
up in grief for Papa, but whenever she thought
about herself, her mind grew bewildered and she
could not in the least see what she was to do.


And now what a comfort Mr. Joyce was to her !
He was nearly well again, and in a great hurry to
get back to his business; but nothing would have
induced him to leave the poor child in such
trouble, and he stayed on and on, devoting him-
self to her all day long, soothing her, telling her
sweet things about heaven and God's goodness and
love, letting her talk as much as she liked of Papa
and not trying even to check the crying which
such talks always brought on. Eyebright re-
sponded to this kindness with all her warm little
heart. She learned to love Mr. Joyce dearly, and
turned to him and clung to him as if he had been a
friend always instead of for a few days only. But all
this time her future remained unsettled, and she
was at the same time too inexperienced and too
much oppressed with sorrow to be able to think
about it or make any plans.
Other people were thinking about it, however.
Mrs. Downs talked the matter over with her hus-
band, and told Mr. Joyce that He" was willing
she should take Eyebright, provided her folks, if
she had any, would consent to have her "bound"
to them till she was of age. They never had kept
any help and she did n't need one now; it was
n't for that she wanted the child, and as for the
binding out, 't was n't nothing but a formality,
only Mr. Downs was made that way, and liked
to have things done regular and legal. He set
store by Eyebright, just as she did herself, and
they 'd see that she had a comfortable home and
was well treated in every way. Mrs. Downs
meant kindly, but Mr. Joyce had other schemes
for Eyebright. As soon as the fact of her father's
death became certain, he had written to his wife,
and he only waited an answer to propose his plan.
It came at last, and as soon as he had read it, he
went in search of Eyebright, who was sitting, as
she often sat now, on the bank over the bathing-
beach, looking sorrowfully off toward the sea.
"I have a letter from home," he said, sitting
down beside her, and I find that I must go back
at once,-day after to-morrow at latest."
"Oh, must you?" said Eyebright, in a voice
which sounded like a sob. She hid her face on his
arm as she spoke, and he knew that she was crying.
"Yes; but don't cry, my dear child. I don't
mean to leave you here alone. That is not my
plan at all. I want you to come with me. Last
week, I wrote to my wife to propose this plan, and
I only waited to hear from her before telling you
about it. Will you come and live with us, Eye-
bright ? I can't take your father's place,-nobody
could do that, and it would n't be right they should;
but we '11 all do our best to make you happy, and
you shall be just like our own girl if you 'll come.
What do you say, my dear ? Will you ?"

"How kind-how kind you are!" replied Eye-
bright in a dazzled, wondering way. "I can't
think what makes you so good to me, dear Mr.
Joyce. But do you think I ought to come ? I 'm
afraid I should be troublesome. Wealthy used to
say that other folk's children always were trouble-
some,' and that it was mean to settle down' on
"Never mind Wealthy or her maxims," said
Mr. Joyce, with a smile. "We '11 risk your being
troublesome, Eyebright. Will you come? "
Do you think Papa would have wished to have
me?" asked Eyebright, wistfully. There 's no-
body for me to ask now except you, you know.
Papa always hated 'being under obligations' to
people. If I stay with Mrs. Downs," she added,
timidly, I can work and help her, and then I
sha'n't be a burden. I 'm afraid there isn't any-
thing I can do to help if I go with you."
Oh, Mrs. Downs has told you of her plan, has
she," said Mr. Joyce, half vexed. Now, listen,
my child. I do really and seriously think that
your father, were he here, would prefer that you
should go with me. If you stay with Mrs. Downs,
you must give up your education entirely. She is
a kind woman, and really fond of you, I think;
but with her you can have no advantages of any
sort, and no chance to fit yourself for any higher
sort of work than house-work. With me you will
have the opportunity of going to an excellent
school, and, if you do your best, by the time you
are twenty-one you will be able to teach, and sup-
port yourself in that way, if it becomes necessary.
And, my dear, you are mistaken in thinking that
there is nothing you can do to help us. We have
never had a daughter, but we always have wished
for one. My wife and I are getting on in life, and
there are lots of ways in which a young girl will
cheer and brighten us up, and help to make the
house pleasant for Charley. It is dull for a boy
with no sisters, and only an old father and mother.
So, you see, we really are in need of a girl, and
you are just the girl we need. So, will you
come? "
"Oh, I'll come gladly !" cried Eyebright, yield-
ing to the pleasantness of the thought. "I 'd
rather live with you than anybody else in the
world, Mr. Joyce, if only you are sure it is right."
It was settled from that moment, though Eye-
bright still felt a little qualm of shyness and fear at
the thought of the unknown Mrs. Joyce. "How
horrible it would be if she should n't like me when I
get there !" she said to herself.
Only one more day at Causey Island, and that a
very busy and confused one. The little house,
which it had taken so many days to get into order,
was all pulled to pieces and dismantled in a few



hours. Some things, such as Papa's desk and
Eyebright's own special chair, Mr. Joyce ordered
packed, and sent after them to Atterbury; the rest
were left to be sold, or perhaps let with the cot-
tage, if any one should hire it. Several articles, at
his suggestion, Eyebright gave to Mrs. Downs,
and she gratified Mr. Downs extremely by making
him a present of the boat.
You could n't have done nothing to please me
better," he said. "It 'll come real handy to have
another boat, and we shall think a heap of its
being yours. And, I '11 tell you what, we '11 just
change its name, and call it 'The Eyebright,'
after you. The first spare time I get, I '11 paint the
name on the stern, so 's we '11 always be reminded
of you whenever we see it."
This was quite a flight of fancy for Mr. Downs.
By sunset the house was cleared of all that was
to be taken away, and Eyebright's trunk packed
and locked. A very little trunk it was, and all it
held very old and shabby. Even Mrs. Downs shook
her head and said the things were hardly worth
taking; but Eyebright did n't much mind. Her
head was full* of other thoughts, and, beside, she
had learned to rely on Mr. Joyce as a helper out
of all difficulties, and she was content to leave her-
self and her future wants to him.


So, at early dawning of the third day, they left
the island, rowing down to the village in the newly
christened Eyebright," now the property of Mr.
Downs. The good-byes had been taken the even-
ing before, and Eyebright did not turn her head, as


they glided away, to look at the green tufted shore
or the blue sea, bluer than ever in the calm hush
of a cloudless sunrise. Very steadily and carefully
she rowed, dipping her oars, and feathering," as
Papa had taught her, as if only intent on doing her
task as well as possible for this the last time. But
later, after they reached the village, when the fare-
wells had all been spoken, the Downs family
kissed, and herself and Mr. Joyce were in the stage-
wagon ready to start, she turned again for one
moment, and her eyes sought out the blue-green
outline which they knew so well. There it lay with
the calm waters all about it, the home which had
been at the same time so hard and so pleasant,
and was now so sad. Tears rushed to her eyes as
she gazed, and she whispered to herself, so softly
that no one else could hear, Good-bye. Good-
bye, Papa."
How strange, and yet how familiar, the road
seemed!-the very road over which she and Papa
had passed less than two years before. It was the
one journey of her life, and she recollected every-
thing perfectly. There was the nameless village,
looking exactly the same, but no longer nameless;
for a wooden board was suspended over the steam-
boat landing, with "Pocobasset" painted upon it
in large letters. Pretty soon the steamboat came
along, the same identical steamboat, and down the
river, they went, past all the tiny islands and
wooded capes, which she remembered so well;
only the light was of sunset now instead of sun-
rising, and the trees, which then were tinged with
coming spring, now bore the red and yellow leaves
of autumn. There was the good-natured steward-
ess and the captain,-nobody was changed,-
nothing had happened, as it seemed, except to
They left the boat, very early in the morning,
at a point some fifty miles short of that from which
she and Papa had embarked, and, traveling all
day, reached Atterbury late on the'second after-
noon. Eyebright had plenty of time to recall, her
dread of Mrs. Joyce as they drove up from the
station. The town was large and thriving, and
looked like a pleasant one. There were many
white-painted, green-blinded houses, with neat
court-yards, of the kind always to be found in New
England villages; but among these appeared, here
and there, a quaint, old-fashioned mansion; and
the elm-shaded streets gave glimpses of pretty
country beyond, woodlands, cultivated valley-
lands, and an encircling line of hills with softly
rounded outlines. Eyebright thought it a delight-
ful-looking place. They drew up before a wide,
ample home, whose garden blazed with late
flowers, and Mr. Joyce, lifting her out, hurried up
the gravel walk, she following timidly, threw open



the front door, and called, loudly: "Mother!
Mother! where are you, Mother?"
At the call, a stout little lady, in a pink-ribboned
cap, came hurrying out of a room at one side of
the hall.
"Oh, Benjamin, is it really you? My dear
husband. Well, I 'm glad;" and she gave him
such a kiss. Then, turning to Eyebright, she said
in the kindest voice:
"And this is your little girl, is it ? Why, Ben-
jamin, she is taller than I am! My dear, I am
very glad to see you; very glad, indeed. Father
says you are his girl; but you must be mine, too,
and learn to love the old lady just as fast as you
Was not this a :-1 :i1ii LAl reception for a weary,
travel-stained little traveler? Eyebright returned
the kiss with one equally warm, and all her fears
of Mrs. Joyce fled forever.
"You shall go right upstairs," said this new
friend; tea will be ready soon, and I know you
are longing for some cold water to wash off the
dust. It's the most refreshing thing always after
a journey."
She led the way, and left Eyebright to herself in
a little bedroom. Such a pretty bedroom it was !
Eyebright felt sure at once that it had been made
ready expressly for herself. It was just such a
room as a young girl fancies, with a dainty white
bed, white curtains at the window, a white-frilled
toilet-table, and on the toilet-table a smart blue
pin-cushion, with "Welcome" stuck upon it in
shining pins. Even the books on the table seemed
to have been chosen to suit her taste, for there lay
"The Dove in the Eagle's Nest;" "The Wide
Wide World;" "The Daisy Chain," in two fat
blue volumes; and Mrs. Whitney's charming tale
of "We Girls." She peeped at one title after
another with a little jump of satisfaction. How
long, how very long it was since she had had a
new story-book to read. A whole feast of enjoy-
ment seemed shut up inside those fascinating
covers. But she would not nibble the feast now;
and closing The Daisy Chain," began to unpack
her hand-bag.
She opened the top bureau-drawer, and said
Oh!" quite aloud, for there appeared a row of
neat little linen collars and cuffs, some pretty black
neck-ties, a nub6 of fleecy white wool, and a couple
of dainty paper boxes with the jeweler's mark on
their lids. Could they be meant for her? She vent-
ured to peep. One box held a pair of jet sleeve-
buttons; the other, a locket of shining jet, with a
ribbon drawn through its ring, all ready for wear.
She was still wondering over these discoveries,
when a little tap sounded on the door, followed
immediately'by the appearance of Mrs. Joyce.

I just came to see if you had all you wanted,"
she said. Oh, you have found those little duds.
I knew, from what Father wrote, that you could n't
get anything in the place where you were, so I
chose those few little things, and to-morrow we '11
see what more you want." Then, cutting short
Eyebright's thanks, she opened the closet door
and called out: Let me have your jacket to hang
up, my dear. There 's some shelves at this end
for your hats. And now I '11 help you unpack.
You '11 never begin to feel at home till you 're all
unpacked and put away. Nobody does."
It was a real satisfaction to Mrs. Joyce to notice
how few clothes Eyebright possessed, and how
shabby they were. All the time that she folded
and arranged, she was saying to herself, gleefully:
" She wants this, she needs that; she must have
all sorts of things at once. To-morrow, I '11 buy
her a nice Henrietta cloth, and a cashmere for
every day, and a pretty wrap of some kind, and a
She betrayed the direction of her thoughts by
turning suddenly with the question:
"What sized gloves do you wear, my dear?"
I don't know," was the reply. I have n't
had any gloves for two years, except a pair of
worsted mittens last winter."
Gracious !" said Mrs. Joyce, but I think she
was rather pleased than otherwise. The truth was,
all her life long she had been "spoiling" for a
daughter to pet and make much of, and now, at
last, her chance had come. Boys are all very
well," she told Mr. Joyce that night. But once
they get into roundabouts, there is absolutely
nothing more which their mothers can do for them
in the way of clothes. Girls are different. I
always knew that I should like a girl to look after,
and this seems a dear child, Benjamin. I am sure
I shall be fond of her."
The tea-bell rang in the midst of the unpacking;
but, as Mrs. Joyce observed, they had the rest of
the week before them, and it did n't matter a bit;
so she hurried Eyebright down-stairs, and into a
cheerful dining-room. Cheerfulness seemed the
main characteristic of the Joyce establishment. It
was not at all an elegant house,-not even, I am
sorry to say, a tasteful one. Nothing could possi-
bly be uglier or more commonplace than the fur-
niture, the curtains, or the flaps of green rep
above the curtains, known to village circles as
lamberkins," and the pride of Mrs. Joyce's heart.
The carpets and wall-paper had no affinity with
each other, and both would have horrified an artist
in home decoration. But everywhere, all through
the house, were neatness, solid comfort, and that
spirit of family affection which make any house
pleasant, no matter how pretty or how ugly it may



be; and this atmosphere of loving-kindness was as
reviving to Eyebright's drooping spirits as real
sunshine is to a real plant, drenched and beaten
down by heavy storms. She felt its warmth
through and through, and it did her good.
Mr. Joyce had just asked a blessing, and was
proceeding to cut the smoking beefsteak before
him, when the door opened and a tall boy with
curly hair and a bright manly face, hurried in.
Why, father, I did n't know you were here, or
I should have been in long ago. How are you,
sir ?" ending the sentence,. to Eyebright's amaze-
ment and amusement both, with a hug and a
hearty kiss, which his father as heartily returned.
Yes; I 'm at home again, and very glad and
thankful to be here," said Mr. Joyce. "Here's
the new sister, Charley; you did n't see her, did
you? Eyebright, this is my son Charley."
"My son Charley," like most boys of sixteen,
was shy with girls whom he was not acquainted
with. He shook hands cordially, but he said
little; only he watched Eyebright when she was
not observing, and his eyes were very friendly.
He liked her face, and thought her pretty, which
was certainly very good of him, for she was look-
ing her worst-tired and pale, with none of her
usual sparkle, and dressed in the water-proof suit
which was not at all becoming.
So here, in this secure and kindly haven, I
think we may leave our storm-tossed little girl,
with the safe assurance that she will be tenderly
and wisely cared for. I know that a few among
you will want to hear more. No story was ever

written so' long or so conclusive, that some child-
reader did not pop up at the end with, Oh, but
just tell us this one thing." I cannot satisfy'such;
still, for their benefit I will just hint at a remark
made by Mrs. Joyce some months later. She and
Mr. Joyce were sitting on the porch, and Eye-
bright, who had grown as dear as a daughter to
the old lady's heart, was playing croquet with
It really does seem the luckiest thing that ever
was, your being shipwrecked on that island," she
said. "I was frightened almost to death when I
heard about it, but if you had n't we never should
have got hold of that child as we did, and what a
pity that would be She certainly is the nicest
girl I ever saw-so sweet-tempered and loving and
helpful, I don't believe any of us could get along
without her now. How fond she and Charley seem
of each other I can't help thinking they '11 make
a match of it when they grow up. It would be an
excellent idea, don't you agree with me, Benja-
min? Charley could never find anybody whom
he would like better, and then we should keep
Eyebright with us always."
Mr. Joyce roared with laughter.
She's only fifteen, and Charley wont be seven-
teen till next Saturday," he said. "Don't you
think you 'd better put off your castles in the air
till they are both a little older, Mother ?"
Such castles are absurd; still it is by no means
impossible that this may come to pass, and if it
should happen to do so, I fancy Mr. Joyce will be.
as much pleased as Mother," every whit.





A STREAMLET started forth from a spring in the
side of a mountain, and, after an infancy of gay
leaps in bright cascades, spread out into a more
quiet and steady movement. It began then to
dream and meditate on the object for which it ex-
isted. While in this grave mood a Will-o'-wisp
darted out and danced over its waters.
Ah," cried the Streamlet, "this is a heavenly
light sent to tell me what I wish to know, and to
guide my course."
But the Will-o'-wisp soon flitted away and van-
ished, leaving the Streamlet more perplexed than

obstructed its course, turned it aside through a
narrow channel and forced it to rush in a confused
perilous way over a wheel.
"Alas !" cried the Streamlet; "is it then for
this agony I was born ? "
But after some wild splashes the Streamlet
found itself at peace again and went on widening.
And now a glorious moon came out and showered
gold all over it.
How wealthy I am cried the Streamlet.
The moon waned. But the stars came out, and
the ripples caught them as bright marvels; they

before. Its first creed was gone. Then a rosy
cloud floated in the sky and mirrored itself in the
bosom of the Stream.
This," it cried, is a token of Paradise! "
But a wind ruffled the water, and the tinted
cloud was mirrored no more; and when the
Streamlet became still again the rosy cloud had
passed from the sky. Then a water-lily expanded
on its waves.
"Behold !" said the Streamlet; to nourish this
beauty is the end and aim of my life."
But the lily presently folded up and perished.
The Streamlet moved on. Presently it came to a
spot where men had thrown hard stones in its way,

hinted deeper, steadier glories yet to be revealed.
But the stars set.
At length a Poet reclined on its bank and sang
to it:
Sweet Streamlet! What a bright life must
have been yours! What flowers must have
fringed your gliding way, what rosy clouds you
have reflected, what lilies you have nourished,
what stars have risen to tell you their secrets ere
they have set 1 You have done brave work, too.
You have watered the meadow and made it wave
with grain; you have conspired with the sun to
ripen the harvest, and when matured you have
helped to turn it into bread. Not for any one of



these joys and uses were you made, but for all!
So may the stream of my life run on, with varied
happiness and helpfulness, not anxious about the
unknown Sea to which thou and I, fair stream, are
As the Streamlet listened, all the beauties it had

known shone out again, and they all clustered-
dancing light, rosy cloud, golden moon and serene
stars-around the great sorrow it had encountered,
the obstruction which had ground grain for man;
for that, transfigured in the Poet's song, seemed
the happiest experience of all.



A GREAT tree fell in the forest,
With a crashing, thunderous sound;
Slowly and terribly stretching
His ponderous length on the ground,
And lay at the feet of his brothers,
Mangled and dead,
Just as a mighty giant
Would pillow his head.

And his brothers looked down upon him-
Swaying their heads for grief-
And joined their voices in wailing,
But none of them deigned relief;
None of them cared to reach
Their myriad helping arms,
But stood upright in the forest,
And braced anew for the storms.

Taller and colder they grew,
Till an autumn funeral day,
Then some of them strewed their leaves
On the great, dead tree as he lay.
But the leaves grew browner and browner,
And shriveled, and thin, and old;

Then a winter wind blew them away
With one blast of its breath bitter cold.

So he lay untombed and forgotten,
With his shattered boughs forming a bier;
With never a requiem chanted,
With never a flower or a tear.
But a troop of forest children,-
Green mosses and lichens gray,-
The woodland's own little darlings,
Found out where the dead tree lay.

And with never a thought of its greatness,
Through sunshine, through rain, through sleet,
They have woven the loveliest mantle,
And covered him head-and feet:
A mantle of costliest texture,
Of varied and rare design,
These loving and tender mosses,
These lichens drawn up in a line.

I have been all through the woodland,
And, just as I saw it to-day,-
The peacefulest place in the forest
Was where the dead giant lay.


MASTER GEORGE TIMSON lived with his father
and mother and his brother Walter in the country
until George was ten years old. The family then
moved to New York City, and took rooms on the
east side of the town, not far from the Bowery.
How very different from the open and beautiful
country Tall brick houses on both sides of the
street,-stores on the first floor and tenements
above. Three rooms for four of them,-a little
kitchen, a sitting-room and a small bedroom.

place, and both George and his brother found their
new home a sad change from the country. There
were fields and meadows, the shore by the pond,
the woods, the brook and the huckleberry pasture.
Here, nothing; not even a stone-wall to jump over,
not a single wild raspberry-vine or rose-bush, not
even a place to play tag" or to toss a ball. They
said there was a place to play up at the Central
Park, but that was four miles off, and, as far as
George and Walter were concerned, it might as


The kitchen had one window, the sitting-room
two, and the bedroom none at all. No yard, no
place to play, no sunshine in the windows all the
year round. George's father and mother took the
bedroom with brother, and George slept on the
sofa in the sitting-room. But the greatest trouble
of all was the want of a play-ground. How could a
couple of such lively fellows exist without a place to
play ? Life is a hollow mockery without a playing-

well be a hundred miles away. Mr. Timson said
they were too poor to live up-town, near the park,
as he was obliged to be at his work early in the
morning, and to ride up and down in the horse-
cars every day would take more time than he
could possibly spare.
One day, for the want of a better place to go,
the boys wandered off toward the wide street called
the "Bowery." It was not much fun to walk in






such a crowd. As for running, or having a good unfastened a chain that was wound round a heavy
jump, it was out of the question, stick of wood. At once the stick began to rise till
It is n't any fun," said they. "There 's just it stood upright, and the great mass of iron
too many folks here." dropped lightly on the pavement. The men took
The Bowery is a wide and busy street. The off the chains and threw them over the top of the


sidewalks are all day crowded with people; there
are stores on both sides, and there are four horse-
car tracks in the street center, a busy, dusty, noisy
place. On coming to the corner, the boys saw a
number of men digging great holes in the side-
walk. They asked a man if they were putting
down gas-pipes, and he said, No, it 's the ele-
vated railroad." There were great piles of dirt, and
heaps of bricks and sand in the street. It seemed
strange that they could make a railroad with
such things. Just then there came along a most
singular wagon. It had two pairs of wheels, a
small pair in front, and a very large pair,, as tall
as the roof of a horse-car, behind. There were
four horses, and between the wheels were two very
long timbers that made the body of the wagon.
Under this timber-body was hung by chains a
great piece of iron-work painted bright red. This
remarkable wagon was drawn up to the sidewalk
and stopped, as if to unload, and a crowd of people
gathered round to see the performance. George
and Walter mounted a pile of bricks and had a fine
chance to see. There was a man to drive the
team, and he walked along the timbers and

wagon, and the driver led his horses away, leaving
the iron in the street. Our boys wondered how
such a very long wagon could turn round. Ah !
how very odd The driver led his horses round
till they marched ;1 iT under the wagon between
the two pairs of wheels !
Full of these wonders, they went home and
George told his mother they were "building an 'ele-
vated railroad' under the sidewalk in the Bowery."
Walter suggested that if there was a good rail-
road, one that would go real fast, so that father
could move up-town, perhaps they would live in
some place where they could play.
I 'm quite out of practice with my ball, and
as to playing any kind of a game, it's no use to
try it, that is if you have to run about; and who
wants to play sittin'-down games all the time?
So I do hope the railroad will be built. It
would be such a comfort to have a place where
you can stretch your legs without upsetting some-
"And to have a place where a fellow can run
and holler without that old man next door coming
out and saying all boys should be put in barrels."



I never could understand why cities are made
without play-grounds," added Walter. "It 's a
great oversight, I 'm sure. I 'd see to the play-
ground first, and then build the houses."
From that day, George and Walter watched care-
fully the progress of the work in the Bowery. They
wanted to see exactly how everything was done.

the iron sockets sunk in the sidewalk, and some
men were fastening the ropes to one of the great
pieces of iron lying in the street. Then they
turned the windlass, and the piece of iron was
soon swinging in the air over the walk. It dropped
gently down, and a man guided it into the socket,
and then it stood upright,-a big iron post on the


First, the men dug great holes in the sidewalks.
Into these holes they lowered large flat stones
having four holes drilled through them. Through
these holes were placed iron rods having pieces
of cast-iron at the ends to keep them from pulling
out. Upon these stones and around the rods the
masons built up brick towers or piers reaching
nearly to the level'of the sidewalk. Upon the
brick pier they laid a heavy cast-iron socket or
cap, the ends of the iron rods passing through
holes in the cap. Big nuts were screwed on the
ends of the rods, thus fastening the cap to the
stones under the brick-work. The boys studied
all this with the greatest interest, and, being bright
fellows, they soon guessed what it all meant.
The work was to be some kind of bridge, and
these piers were the foundations.
One day, noticing a crowd of people on the
Bowery, they marched down there to see what was
going on. Pushing through the crowd, they found
a curious hoisting-machine, or derrick, drawn by
horses. The machine was standing near one of

edge of the walk. The horses dragged the derrick
away, and presently..another post was standing in
place a short distance up the street. Greatly
interested in these things, George and Walter
spent much of their time out of school watching
the work as it went on.
The next day, more wonderful things happened.
On going out to the Bowery, the boys found a little
wooden house, which, having a chimney and steam-
pipe on the roof, was standing on two long beams
that stretched from the tops of two of the iron col-
umns. How it could have got up there they could
not guess. There was a derrick at the front of the
house and many ropes and chains, and in the street
were scattered about great numbers of iron beams
of most curious shape. These they readily saw
were to make the beams of the iron railway-
bridge that was to stretch along the street just
over the sidewalk. Some men were fastening
chains to one of the iron beams. In a moment, all
was ready, the foreman gave a whistle, the engine
in the house puffed noisily, the chains tightened,


and the great beam slowly rose in the air. Two
men climbed up the posts, and when the beam
came up to them they caught it and pulled it into
place, and it rested from post to post. A man ran
out on the beam, took off the chains and threw
them down to the men below. They fastened the
chains to another beam, and to the ropes of the
derrick, and in a few moments it was resting
beside the other on the posts. The derrick,
house, engine and all rolled on wheels out on the
beams to the next post, ready to pick up the next
pair of beams. All this, the two boys watched with
lively curiosity, as it was indeed quite a wonder-
ful performance.
It seemed as if the railroad changed every day.
First came the carpenters placing the sleepers (the
cross-pieces of wood on which the rails are laid)
on top of the bridge, then came the track-layers,
and lastly the painters. At one place they were
putting up a long platform, with wooden stairs
leading up to it from the sidewalk, and the boys
guessed this must be a station.
Then, for some time, nothing in particular hap-
pened, and the boys began to think the railroad
would never be opened.
One day their father came home from work look-

morning came, and with it arrived a furniture
wagon. All the things were put in it. Walter
and his father and the driver mounted the high
seat, and they drove away. As for George and
his mother, they walked out toward the Bowery.
Presently they came to the street where the
station was being built. It was not finished, but the
stairs were opened, and there was a great crowd
of people going up and down. Suddenly, as they
were walking, a railroad train rushed right over
their heads with a loud roar.
Hurray said George. She 's running at
They went up the stairs, and on the platform
they found a man in a little box. George's
mother paid him the money for two tickets, and
they went out on the platform next the railroad.
Here were the tracks stretched over the iron
beams from post to post directly over the sidewalk.
On the opposite side of the street was another row
of posts with the tracks on top, and a platform for
the passengers.
Suddenly, with a loud roar of escaping steam, a
pretty little engine slid up to the station and
stopped. There were three long cars packed full
of people, and the moment they stopped there

.,. -- -- -" .- "" i

ing quite pleased. He said the road would be was a grand rush to get on board, but the train
opened the next day, and that this was their last started off before they could get on, and, to
night in these narrow and crowded quarters. The George's dismay, they were left behind. His




disappointment did not last long, for in a few min-
utes another train arrived, and they got on board.
Oh said George, as they entered the neat
and handsome car. This is fine enough!"
His mother opened a window, and George
looked out and found they
were L -'-i r 'r
seem (l h ***".. 'I T_,' ,, I .e -. o.
nothing .:.i !-ro: I'.- t t.:.r-i p. I, h i
they v-re rC i.II, . l!..
The rp pl. Ie ..- ... -i i1.: ;i.::

up th,-lr ,-in m ,l 1lMI I h-y' w e p lin _

sam way How quiy it was lt bhind

the they r get used to it when the train sfinopped it suddenly't

ahurt a station, sand Gerowrge.ds of people got in and out.

they intended to have quite a fine dpt.
Soon they flewere in the middle ofver the horses and wagons, right
below. The train flew over the crhorse-cars. There 's one going the
Witflash, a loud roin a moment another were pulling up at goitheng
next a station, and crowds of people got in and out. eyes for everything.
They wereas only a barthe last car,, and he went to the rear
doorthey intend looked to have quitut. The a fivenue d6pt.looked like a
two-storhey flstreet, right over the hoet-cars, wagons and wagonside-

walks, and stores below, and a railroad above.
Come, George here we are "

He took his mother's hand, and they stepped
out on the platform of a station, a long distance up
town. They went down the stairs, but before they
reached the street their train had rushed away over
their heads. They turned to the right and entered
a quiet street, and in a moment George cried out:
i.iih ; "!-i :"- i], i; >.r, ,i'd i :l.' 1 ,i| d ;'',m e

t h ,--s a
*,.: r 11.: -,,,..l F. i ..- : ;,.hri : ii i.u :, and
.1 [h LI[I. l l '-.. ond

n ... . ,., rom
S I., r : I .: ned

h I\ T t!, %A7 6ine!
I, ,i. Iling
--':. 1l n,- and
':22 ,r,'i, [ i .-h. C very
-- 1,-i ,-, vent


about through the rooms, and said, This shall
be the dining-room, and this shall be the parlor.
Oh! and this shall be Walter's room." The
window was open and George looked out. There
was the river close to the house. How it
sparkled in the sun There were some ships, with
trees on the opposite shore, and beyond in the dis-
tance a grassy hill.
It is n't so dreadful crowded up here," said
George. "Oh! there 's a schooner coming up
the river before the breeze And there's a steam-
boat. And we could n't have lived up here if it
had n't been for that elevated railroad "
Suddenly the door opened, and Walter burst
into the room, skipping and hopping as if he were
going wild.
"Oh George, George This is too much.
There 's a field just out here and a lumber-yard
and I 've seen the gate to the Park."
And here 's the river, and a base-ball ground,


and some rocks, and just the most splendid place
to play ever seen," exclaimed George.
"Play! I guess so," cried the lively and
excited Walter. "Why, it 's exactly like the
country,-only it's altogether different, but just as
nice. There's room enough to run and holler,
and do anything we please. I tell you, George,
there 's no use of our being sorry we had to come
away from the country. It's just as good here;
every bit of it, and I 'm ever so glad the railroad is
built, because this part of the city looks as if it
was made by folks who had boys and girls."
The city of New York is long and narrow.
There is a deep river on either side, where ships
come from all parts of the world close up to the
edge of the town. Now, where the ships are
the merchants want to be, and where the mer-
chants are a great many other people of business
want to be; and so it happens that a very great
number of people want to do business in a very
small space. The land is thickly covered with
stores and offices and manufactories. When the
city was small this was all right, and folks lived
near their stores and counting-rooms quite com-
fortably. But more and more people came to live

the north, up the island. Then people said they
must have cars to take them up and down town
from their homes to the stores. They laid tracks on
the streets and used horses to move the cars. This
was all very good for a few years; but, more and
more people came there to live. They found the
horse-cars too slow and they began to build tall
tenement-houses and to put dozens of poor fam-
ilies under one roof. This was too crowded for
health and, just as George and his brother pined
for room and air and sunshine, so many other
children found it hard work to grow up among so
many people. Then the people said: This will
not do, we must have railroads with good engines
to take us far up town toward the country."
Of course these railroads could not be laid in
the streets, for locomotives cannot run fast through
crowds of wagons and people. And so they at first
thought they might make underground railroads
like those in London, or they might tear down a
long row of houses and make a lane through the
town where the tracks could be laid. Either plan
would cost a great deal of money; so, after many
trials and a great deal of talking, they decided to
build high iron platforms through the broad streets


in New York and the place became very crowded. and on top to place the tracks for a railroad. It
The rivers kept them in on each side, and to get was this work that our two boys watched with so
room they made new streets farther and farther to much interest.



Had they been able to go about on the upper
part of the island on the west side of the city,
beyond Central Park, they would have seen even
more remarkable performances in the way of
bridge building. A locomotive is a curious animal.
He likes a good level road with no bad hills to
climb. If you try to make him climb a steep hill
he may stop short and refuse to stir a wheel. The

going up and down all the time. The horse-rail-
roads are decidedly in the way of all other vehicles,
and the cars often cause blockades that delay the
business people very much. Before the elevated
railroad was built, the horse-railroad was a serious
cause of trouble in streets already crowded with
carts and wagons. But now if we stand on the
.-I.: -!i; and can look in both directions under

- --- -' Z:-7,=--- ^ -.-.1--
li-_7-77_ I'Iw


land to the west of Central Park is exceedingly
hilly, and the railroad must be made to please
these iron horses. So it happens that where the
ground is low the iron supports of the railroad
are very high, as may be seen by the picture on
page 801. Some of the posts that support the
railroad are fifty-seven feet high, and as they are all
hollow until filled with cement, some very curious
work could be seen here while the building was
going on. The picture on page 804 shows a man
filling a post with cement by pouring it in at the
The platform on which he stands is in two parts
and bites the post on both sides, pinching it tightly
by means of screws.
This matter of running a steam railroad through
a city, in such a way as not to interfere with the
traffic, was a difficult and puzzling business. In Lon-
don, as I have said, the city railroads are placed
in tunnels under the streets and houses. In Paris,
there is a railroad in an open "cutting" or deep
ravine, with bridges over it at all the streets that
cross it. In many English cities the railroads run
over brick arches at the level of the house-tops.
All of these methods answer a good purpose, but
they are very costly. In New York an entirely
different plan has been tried by these elevated
railroads laid on iron bridges through the streets.
These roads work admirably. There is a great
traffic in the streets where they are built. There
are horse-cars and crowds of trucks and wagons

the iron bridges, we see that the various vehicles
and horse-cars pass along precisely as if there were
no railroad there. While we are examining these
things, two trains pass, one on each side of the
street,-in fact, one of them runs directly over our
heads. We might tell our friends when we reach
home that we were run over by a railroad train
and that it did n't hurt a bit.
We walk on down-town and come to a narrower
street, and here the railroad tracks come close to-
gether, and though the street is shaded by the iron
bridge overhead, it is clear and unobstructed.
Here 's a station with steps going up to the house
overhead, and we hear a train stop overhead and
hear the conductor call out the name of the street
and open and close the gates for the passengers.
There is no loud ringing of bells or blowing of
whistles, not even a puff from the smoke-stack, or a
rush of steam from the vacuum-brake. The bridge
resounds somewhat, as you can easily imagine,
when such a great mass of iron is shaken by the
rapid motion of the heavy locomotives and trains;
but the noise is not of much consequence. It is
far less than the roar and rattle of the teams in
the street below. Certainly the horses do not
seem to mind it. There is one, gravely eating his
oats with evident satisfaction and peace of mind,
though a rail-train rushes over his head every two
There are different kinds of platforms or bridges
for these roads. One in Sixth avenue has square




posts set up in the middle of the street, on either
side of the horse-car tracks, and on these a double
track of railroad is built, directly over the horse-
cars. By crossing to the east side of the city to
the Third avenue we shall find another kind of
road. The iron posts carry lattice girders on top,
and on these the tracks are laid, one track over each
line of posts. Here, they say, the load is over the
line of support. That is, the trains pass directly
over the posts that support the road, while on Sixth
avenue they pass over beams that cross from one
line of posts to the other. Each method has its
advantages, though one is much cheaper than the
other 1':2 single line of posts looks as if it
might tip over or be unsteady, but the trains move
swiftly and steadily over the single line of posts
with entire safety.
In all this you observe that New York has reg-
ular steam railroads laid through thickly built-up
streets, and yet in no wise interfering with the
traffic on the streets. Over these roads nearly
200,000 people ride in safety and comfort every
Now let us try the road and see what it is like
from above. We will take the cars down-town and
go up to the Park and perhaps beyond. At the
down-town station near Trinity Church where
the trains start from, we pay for our tickets, and
pass out upon the platform. Well, really, this is
a railroad in the air in earnest. There are engines
standing about, some with steam up ready to start,
others running under a pipe to get water. There
is a bridge over the water-pipe, and on top are
men with wheel-barrows, wheeling coal. One
opens a trap in the bridge, shoots his barrow-load
of coal down the trap, and it falls through a funnel
in the top of the cab of the engine. At once the
engine moves out of the way to make room for the
next. Quick work is essential on a railroad that
runs 800 trains in twenty-four hours. Opposite
is a switch-house and in it we can see the man who
controls all the switches here. See, he has moved
a lever, and, up the track, we see the signal-arm
move. There is a train coming. The signal says
" all clear," and the train comes down, crossing
over from one side of the bridge to the other, run-
ning up to the side of the platform. Men stand
ready to cast off couplings, unfasten the air-pipes
for the brakes and loosen the bell-rope. The
engine moves away to the coaling place, and at the
same time another engine backs down and is
coupled on; the down passengers have all stepped
out, and the up passengers take their places and
the train is off in less than two minutes. At once
an engine rolls up past the platform and takes its
place ready for the next train. The arms on the
signal-posts move up and down and another train

comes down to the platform. If the business is
very active, one train follows another in about a
minute and a half. We '11 take a train and go up-
town. The car is wide, handsome, neatly carpeted
and with broad and comfortable seats. The build-
ings slip past on either side and we can look into
the second-story windows and see the people
inside. It 's a mere glance for an instant and
then it is passed. The people inside do not
appear to mind it much. Well, when a railroad
train shoots by your windows every ninety seconds
you can't afford to look out at every one of them.
The train pulls up at a station and more people
get in, and in less than a minute we are off again.
Now we come out on a wide street and we can look
through the windows to the street below. There
is a blockade there. A truck has broken down on
the horse-car track and the cars are stopped in a
long line. How lucky that we can fly right over
the whole affair, crowd and all, and leave them far
behind, while the drivers below are quarreling as
to who shall get out of the way! On we go up-


town; stopping at station after station, making
two more curves and then coming to Sixth
avenue. Now we spin along in fine style, and as
the road is in the middle of the street we have a
good chance to see the shops and sidewalks below.
We go in this way for nearly three miles, pass a
branch road leading off to the left, and then stop
at Fifty-eighth-street. Here we are at the Park in
twenty minutes from Trinity Church, and making
twelve stops on the way.
This road is the shortest of the elevated railroads
in New York; but having seen this we have seen
the best. We might go on up to Eighty-third
street on the west side and pass miles of streets
without a single house. Plenty of room here for


all the crowded families from down-town. On the
east side we can ride to Harlem and see that pleas-
ant part of the town, where George and Walter
went to live after the new railroad was opened.




You will find on the north-west corner of the
map of South America, a section of the country
called United States of Colombia, the principal
river of which is the Magdalena, and up whose
waters you may trace your way to a point where
the line of Latitude Six crosses it. Near here its
yellow and warm waters are joined by those of the
river Nare, the current of which is swift and cool,
coming fresh from the mountains of Antiogina.
About five leagues from its mouth, at a little
landing-place called Remolino (meaning in the
Spanish language, whirlpool, or commotion), the
river is rapid and turbulent as it swirls round the
narrow gorge, giving the appearance of actually
bursting from the mountains. Now, go in imagi-
nation to this point, and accompany me with my
companions, for we are all going to ride on men's
backs, because from this place very few mules are
used, and nearly everything is carried on men's
backs. Even women are engaged in this occupa-
tion of transporting travelers and merchandise to
the interior. A mule must have two boxes or
bales of equal weight, that one may balance the
other; but when there is some single article of
great weight to be carried, a man takes it. These
men are very strong and walk off with two hun-
dred pounds, or even more. They are called
"Peones" and "Sillateros," meaning chair-bearers.
The way is wild and steep, and they go where a mule
cannot, thus taking shorter routes, and he who is
not accustomed to ride on mules is safer from dan-
ger in a chair. Two of our company were ladies,
and one of them held a baby. They came from
England that they might be with their husbands,
who were engaged in gold mining away over and
beyond these mountains. When the natives came
to Remolino for us, there was a long consultation
held by them as to which should carry a certain
one of our party-a man who weighed about two
hundred pounds. It fell to the lot of the smallest
Peon, and how ridiculous it looked to see the large
man on the back of this little Indian! Finally, we
were all seated, each in his or her chair, and in-

structed to lean back and remain very still. The
men commenced climbing up the mountain-side,
sometimes on all fours, and occasionally, with their
pointed staffs pricking little holes in order to
give themselves a surer footing. Now and then we
would come to a place comparatively level; then
they would shuffle along on a gentle trot, scarcely
raising their feet from the ground. They frequently
turned round and went backward when descend-
ing. Then the rider should remain exceeding
quiet, for the least move would overbalance the
carrier, and a serious accident might occur. The
sensation is very peculiar when in this position,
for your face is turned outward toward space, and
nothing is seen but sky, while you know there
is a great yawning gulf beneath, into which it is
dangerous and fearful to look.
Our second day was a trying one, in conse-
quence of a heavy fall of rain having made the
ground so slippery that our Peones had to proceed
with great caution, and even then the one who
carried our two-hundred-pounder fell, dumping
him headlong. The ladies and myself laughed so
heartily that we nearly came to grief ourselves;
but our large friend grew very angry, and, in his
excitement, made a furious charge on the Peon,
threatening to run him through with his umbrella.
He sputtered in English while the Peon sputtered
in Spanish, and it was long before all things were
settled into quiet. I did suspect that the mishap
was not altogether accidental, for these men have
been known to retaliate on disagreeable riders. We
made little resting-spells about each half hour, and
in every ravine there was sure to be a stream of
cool water. Here, while partaking of a slight re-
freshment, we would seat ourselves on some rocks
or a fallen tree, and enjoy the fairy-like place. I
noticed that when the Peones wanted to drink
they invariably put a piece of sugar in the mouth
first. I asked them why.
0 Senor, it makes the water taste better,
and you can drink as much as you like and not
get sick."


It is in this way the people of New York hope
to live in comfort in their crowded city. The stores
are to be at one end of the town, the homes at an-
other, and the elevated railroads are to join the two.

1879]- ON A MAN'S BACK.

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r''' II

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* .: i, ..1.. i ., -% r ,l .t: 'h': !-*I[- Il- l I h C

coming out?" said 1, scanning my nltormanlt loosely.
VOL. VI.-55.



No, Sefior; but we know it does."
The homes of the mountaineers are built of
upright poles, supporting a thatched roof of palm-
leaves. Everything is tied together with vines, for
they know nothing of nails. The sides are in-
terlaced with small twigs plastered roughly with
mud, while the door consists of a frame of Guadua
with a hide stretched across. The bed is made of a
number of small poles, the ends of which rest on a
rude support, and although you may laugh at
sleeping on poles, I assure you it is very nice
when a few blankets are spread over them, for
they are quite flexible and springy. Chairs are a
rarity; folk sit on the ground, or squat down on
their heels. The cooking is done in a smaller
house a few yards distant from the main one,
where, on the hard and smooth earthen floor, are
placed stones of different shapes, upon which rest
the earthen pots, with the fire built between.
Happy hour this, when, after the day's journey,
all are grouped around the fire (which feels com-
fortable in the fresh mountain air),-happy both

for the travelers and for these simple, hospitable
people, who are so astonished at hearing you talk
in your own language !
On the morning of our fourth day, we were told
that the way would lead down, and that during the
afternoon we should reach Guadap6, a little town
where mules could be procured. This last day
proved to be the most interesting of all, and it
seemed to be a new and different country that we
looked upon from our great height as we descended
this side of the mountain range. Strange flowers
and plants began to appear, and it was here that
we first saw the fuchsia in its wild life festooning
the banks in great profusion, tangled and dense
like the grape-vines on our arbors at home in the
North. I wish it were possible to describe the
wild, luxuriant beauty of the scenery on every
side of us as we descended At about midday,
from a curve in the mountains, we caught a glimpse
of Guadap6 on the plain far away below, where,
in a few hours, we were objects of kind attention
from the inhabitants.




THE Cat and the King they ran a race;
The judges an Owl with solemn face,
And three blind Crabs of courtly grace.

The Cat and the King stood toe to toe;
The Donkey gave his trumpet a blow-
One, two, three, and away they go !



Sure, it was a wonderful thing;
A wild shout made the welkin ring-
To think that a Cat should beat a King!

The Cat bowed low to the stately Queen,
The Goose and the Donkey of haughty mien,
And even the Lobster proud and green;

But then she rose with a pompous air,
And tossed her head and tail in the air,
And challenged the fleetest runner there.

The Lobster strode forth with native grace,
But the Cat disdained to run him a race,
And she flapped her tail in the Lobster's face.


The Lobster caught the tail in his claw,
The audience shouted a grave guffaw,
And the Cat struck out with a Mew-i-aw."

Around the track the runners tore,
The Lobster behind, the Cat before,
She would reach the goal in one leap more.

But the Lobster he struck a bit of a mound,
And over the Cat's head went with a bound,
And a yard in advance he touched the ground.





THE next day was a busy one for father and
mother and myself. All the morning we were out,
laying in a small stock of baggage, to take the
place of what I had lost on the "Tigris." But I
was very sorry, especially on my sister Helen's
account, that I had lost so many things in my
trunk which I could not replace, without going
back myself to Nassau. I could buy curiosi-
ties from those regions that were ever so much
better than any that I had collected; but I could
not buy shells that I myself had gathered, nor great
seed-pods, like bean-pods two feet long, which I
had picked from the trees, nor pieces of rock that I
myself had brought up from a coral-reef.

But these were all gone, and I pacified Helen by
assuring her that I would tell her such long stories
about these things that she could almost see them
in her mind's eye. But I think, by the way she
smiled, that she had only a second-rate degree of
belief in my power of description. She was a smart
little thing, and she believed that Corny was the
queen of girls.
While I am speaking of the Tigris" and our
losses, I will just say that the second boat which
left the burning steamer was never heard from.
We reached our hotel about noon, pretty tired,
for we had been rushing things, as it was necessary
for father to go home early the next day. On the
front steps we found Uncle Chipperton, who had
been waiting for us. He particularly wanted to
see me. He lunched with us, and then he took me



off to the place where he was to have his dinner at
six o'clock that evening. He wanted to consult with
me about the arrangements of the table; where
each person should sit, and all that sort of thing.
I could n't see the use in this, because it was only
a kind of family party, and we should all be sure to
get seated, if there were chairs and places enough.
But Uncle Chipperton wanted to plan and arrange
everything until he was sure it was just right.
That was his way.
After he had settled these important matters,
and the head-waiter and the proprietor had become
convinced that I was a person of much conse-
quence, who had to be carefully consulted before
anything could be done, we went down-stairs, and
at the street-door Uncle Chipperton suddenly
stopped me.
See here," said he, I want to tell you some-
thing. I 'm not coming to this dinner."
Not-coming !" I exclaimed, in amazement.
No," said he. I 've been thinking it over,
and have fully made up my mind about it. You
see, this is intended as a friendly re-union,-an
occasion of good feeling and fellowship among
people who are bound together in a very peculiar
Yes," I interrupted, "and that seems to me,
sir, the very reason why you should be there."
The very reason why I should not be there,"
he said. You see, I could n't sit down with that
most perverse and obstinate man, Colbert, and feel
sure that something or other would not occur
which would make an outbreak between us, or, at
any rate, bad feeling. In fact, I know I could not
take pleasure in seeing him enjoy food. This may
be wrong, but I can't help it. It's in me. And I
wont be the means of casting a shadow over the
happy company which will meet here to-night.
No one but your folks need know I'm not coming.
The rest will not know why I am detained, and I
shall drop in toward the close of the meal, just
before you break up. I want you to ask your
father to take the head of the table. He is just the
man for such a place, and he ought to have it, too,
for another reason. You ought to know that this
dinner is really given to you in your honor. To
be sure, Rectus is a good fellow-splendid-and
*does everything that he knows how; but my wife
and I know that we owe all our present happiness
to your exertions and good sense."
He went on in this way for some time, and
although I tried to stop him I could n't do it.
Therefore," he continued, "I want your father
to preside, and all of you to be happy, without a
suspicion of a cloud about you. At any rate, I
shall be no cloud. Come around here early, and
see that everything is all right. Now I must be off."

And away he went.
I did not like this state of affairs at all. I would
have much preferred to have no dinner. It was
not necessary, any way. If I had had the author-
ity, I would have stopped the whole thing. But
it was Uncle Chipperton's affair, he paid for it, and
I had no right to interfere with it.
My father liked the matter even less than I did.
He said it was a strange and unwarrantable per-
formance on the part of Chipperton, and he did
not understand it. And he certainly did not
want to sit at the head of the table, in another
man's place. I could not say anything to him to
make him feel better about it. I made him feel
worse, indeed, when I told him that Uncle Chip-
perton did not want his absence explained, or
alluded to, any more than could be helped. My
father hated to have to keep a secret of this
In the afternoon, I went around to the hotel
where the Chippertons always staid, when they
were in New York, to see Corny and her mother.
I found them rather blue. Uncle Chipperton had
not been able to keep his plan from them, and
they thought it was dreadful. I could not help
letting them see that I did not like it, and so we
did n't have as lively a time as we ought to have
I supposed that if I went to see Rectus, and told
him about the matter, I should make him blue,
too. But as I had no right to tell him, and also
felt a pretty strong desire that some of the folks
should come with good spirits and appetites, I
kept away from him. He would have been sure
to see that something was the matter.
I was the first person to appear in the dining-
room of the restaurant where the dinner-table was
spread for us. It was a prettily furnished parlor in
the second story of the house, and the table was
very tastefully arranged and decorated with flowers.
I went early, by myself, so as to be sure that every-
thing was exactly right before the guests arrived.
All seemed perfectly correct; the name of each
member of the party was on a .card by a plate.
Even little Helen had her plate and her card. It
would be her first appearance at a regular dinner-
The guests were not punctual. At ten minutes
past six, even my father, who was the most par-
ticular of men in such things, had not made his
appearance. I waited five, ten, fifteen, twenty
minutes more, and became exceedingly nervous.
The head-waiter came in and asked if my friends
understood the time that had been set. The din-
ner would be spoiled if it were kept much longer.
I said that I was sure they knew all about the time
set, and that there was nothing to be done but to


wait. It was most unaccountable that they should
all be late.
I stood before the fire-place and waited, and
thought. I ran down to the door, and looked up
and down the street. I called a waiter and told
him to look into all the rooms in the house. They
might have gone into the wrong place. But they
were not to be seen anywhere.
Then I went back to the fire-place, and did some


more thinking. There was no serise in supposing
that they had made a mistake. They all knew this
restaurant, and they all knew the time. In a
moment, I said to myself:
I know how it is. Father has made up his
mind that he will not be mixed up in any affair of
this kind, where a quarrel keeps the host of the
party from occupying his proper place, especially

as he-my father-is expected to occupy that place
himself. So he and mother and Helen have just
quietly staid in their rooms at the hotel. Mrs.
Chipperton and Corny wont come without Uncle
Chipperton. They might ride right to the door,
of course, but they are ashamed, and don't want to
have to make explanations; and it is ridiculous to
suppose that they wont have to be made. As for
Rectus and his people, they could not have heard

anything, but,-I have it. Old Colbert got his
back up, too, and would n't come, either for fear a
quarrel would be picked, or because he could take
no pleasure in seeing Uncle Chipperton enjoying
food. And Rectus and his mother would n't come
without him."
It turned out, when I heard from all the parties,
that I had got the matter exactly right.

I .1.*~**
I;,,' 'I
I I~ I
'III I .1 liii



We shall have to make fresh preparations, sir,
if we wait any longer," said the head-waiter, com-
ing in with an air of great mental disturbance.
Don't wait," said I. "Bring in the dinner.
At least, enough for me. I don't believe any one
else will be here."
The waiter looked bewildered, but he obeyed. I
took my seat at the place where my card lay, at
the middle of one side of the table, and spread my
napkin in my lap. The head-waiter waited on me,
himself, and one or two other waiters came in to
stand around, and take away dishes, and try to
find something to do.
It was a capital dinner, and I went carefully
through all the courses. I was hungry. I had
been saving up some extra appetite for this dinner,
and my regular appetite was a very good one.
I had raw oysters,
And soup,
And fish, with delicious sauce,
And roast duck,
And croquettes, made of something extraordi-
narily nice,
And beef a la mode,
And all sorts of vegetables in their proper places,
And ready-made salad,
And orange pie,
And wine-jelly,
And ice-cream,
And bananas, oranges and white grapes,
And raisins, and almonds and nuts,
And a cup of coffee.
I let some of these things off pretty easy, toward
the last; but I did not swerve from my line of
duty. I went through all the courses, quietly and
deliberately. It was a dinner in my honor, and I
did all the honor I could to it.
I was leaning back in my chair, with a satisfied
soul, and nibbling at some raisins, while I slowly
drank my coffee, when the outer door opened, and
Uncle Chipperton entered.
He looked at me, in astonishment. Then he
looked at the table, with the clean plates and
glasses at every place, but one. Then he took it
all in, or at least I supposed he did, for he sat down
on a chair near the door, and burst out into the
wildest fit of laughing. The waiters came running
into the room to see what was the matter; but for
several minutes Uncle Chipperton could not speak.
He laughed until I thought he 'd crack something.
I laughed, too, but not so much.
I see it all," he gasped, at last. I see it all.
I see just how it happened."
And when we compared our ideas of the matter,
we found that they were just the same.
I wanted him to sit down and eat something,
but he would not do it. He said he would n't

spoil such a unique performance for anything.
It was one of the most comical meals he had ever
heard of.
I was glad he enjoyed it so much, for he paid
for the whole dinner for ten which had been pre-
pared at his order.
When we reached the street, Uncle Chipperton
put on a graver look.
"This is all truly very funny," he said, but,
after all, there is something about it which makes
me feel ashamed of myself. Would you object to
take a ride? It is only about eight o'clock. I
want to go up to see old Colbert."
I agreed to go, and we got into a street-car.
The Colberts lived in one of the up-town streets,
and Uncle Chipperton had been at their house, on
"I never went to see them in a friendly way,
before," he said.
It was comforting to hear that this was to be a
friendly visit.
When we reached the house we found the family
of three in the parlor. They had probably had all
the dinner they wanted, but they did not look
exactly satisfied with the world or themselves.
Look here, Colbert," said Uncle Chipperton,
after shaking hands with Mrs. Colbert, why did
n't you go to my dinner ? "
"Well," said Mr. Colbert, looking him straight
in the face, I thought I 'd better stay where I
was. I did n't want to .make any trouble, or
pick any quarrels. I did n't intend to keep my
wife and son away; but they would n't go without
"No, indeed," said Mrs. Colbert.
Oh, well!" said Uncle Chipperton, "you
need n't feel bad about it. I did n't go, myself."
At this, they all opened their eyes, as wide as the
law allowed.
No," he continued, I did n't want to make
any disturbance, or ill-feeling, and so I did n't go,
and my wife and daughter did n't want to go with-
out me, and so they did n't go, and I expect Will's
father and mother did n't care to be on hand at a
time when bad feeling might be shown, and so
they didn't go. There was no one there but Will.
He ate all of the dinner that was eaten. He went
straight through it, from one end to the other.
And there was no ill-feeling, no discord, no cloud
of any kind. All perfectly harmonious, was n't it,
"Perfectly," said I.
"I just wish I had known about it," said Rectus,
a little sadly.
"And now, Mr. Colbert," said Uncle Chipper-
ton, "I don't want this to happen again. There
may be other re-unions of this kind, and we may


want to go. And there ought to be such re-unions
between families whose sons and daughter have
been cast away together, on a life-raft, in the mid-
dle of the ocean."
That 's so," said Mrs. Colbert, warmly.
"I thought they were saved on a life-raft,"
said old Colbert, dryly. And I did n't know it
was in the middle of the ocean."
"Well, fix that as you please," said Uncle
Chipperton. "What I want to propose is this:
Let us two settle our quarrel. Let 's split our
difference. Will you agree to divide that four
inches of ground, and call it square? I '11 pay for
two inches."
"Do you mean you 'il pay half the damages
I 've laid? asked old Colbert.
That's what I mean," said Uncle Chipperton.
"All right," said Mr. Colbert; "I'll agree."
And they shook hands on it.
"Now, then," said Uncle Chippertor, who
seemed unusually lively, I must go see the Gor-
dons, and explain matters to them. Wont you
come along, Rectus ?" And Rectus came.
On the way to our hotel, we stopped for Corny
and her mother. We might as well have a party,
Uncle Chipperton said.
We had a gay time at our rooms. My father
and mother were greatly amused at the way the
thing had turned out, and very much pleased that
Mr. Colbert and Uncle Chipperton had become
reconciled to each:other.
"I ith.:.ul1 1t. -had a good heart," said my
mother, softly, to me, looking over to Uncle Chip-
perton, who was telling my father, for the second
time, just how I looked, as I sat alone at the long
Little Helen had not gone to bed yet, and she
was sorry about the dinner in the same way that
Rectus was. So was Corny, but she was too glad
that the quarrel between her father and Mr. Col-
bert was over, to care much for the loss of the din-
ner. She was always very much disturbed at
quarrels between friends or friends' fathers.

THREE letters came to me the next morning. I
was rather surprised at this, because I did not
expect to get letters after I found myself at home;
or, at least, with my family. The first of these was
handed to me by Rectus. It was from his father.
This is the letter :

M DEAR BOY:" (This opening seemed a
little curious to me, for I did not suppose the old
gentleman thought of me in that way.) I shall

not be able to see you again before you leave for
Willisville, so I write this note just to tell you how
entirely I am satisfied with the way in which you
performed the very difficult business I intrusted
to you-that of taking charge of my son in his
recent travels. The trip was not a very long one,
but I am sure it has been of great service to him;
and I also believe that a great deal of the benefit
he has received has been due to you." (I stopped
here, and tried to think what I had done for the
boy. Besides the thrashing I gave him in Nassau,
I could not think of anything.) I have been
talking a great deal with Sammy, in the last day
or two, about his doings while he was away, and
although I cannot exactly fix my mind on any par-
ticular action, on your part, which proves what I
say" (he was in the same predicament here in
which I was myself), "yet I feel positively assured
that your companionship and influence have been
of the greatest service to him. Among other
things, he really wants to go to college. I am
delighted at this. It was with much sorrow that I
gave up the idea of making him a scholar; but,
though he was a good boy, I saw that it was use-
less to keep him at the academy at Willisville, and
so made up my mind to take him into my office.
But I know you put this college idea into his head,
though how, I cannot say, and I am sure that it
does not matter. Sammy tells me that you never
understood that he was to be entirely in your
charge; but since you brought him out so well
without knowing this, it does you more credit. I
am very grateful to you. If I find a chance to do
you a real service, I will do it.
Yours very truly,

The second letter was handed to me by Corny,
and was from her mother. I shall not copy that
here, for it is much worse than Mr. Colbert's. It
praised me for doing a lot of things which I never
did at all; but I excused Mrs. Chipperton for a
good deal she said, for she had passed through so
much anxiety and trouble, and was now going to
settle down for good, with Corny at school, that I
did n't wonder she felt happy enough to write a little
wildly. But there was one queer resemblance
between her letter and old Mr. Colbert's. She said
two or three times-it was an awfully long letter-
that there was not any particular thing that she
alluded to when she spoke of my actions. That
was the funny part of it. They could n't put their
fingers on anything really worth mentioning, after
My third letter had come by mail, and was a
little old. My mother gave it to me, and told me
that it had come to the post-office at Willisville




about a week before, and that she had brought it
down to give it to me, but had totally forgotten it
until that morning. It was from St. Augustine,
and this is an exact copy of it:

My good friend Big Little Man. I love you.
My name Maiden's Heart. You much pious. You
buy beans. Pay good. Me wants one speckled

During the morning, most of our party met to
bid each other good-bye. Corny, Rectus and I
were standing together, having our little winding-
up talk, when Rectus asked Corny if she had kept
her gray bean, the insignia of our society.
"To be sure I have," she said, pulling it out
from under her cloak. "I have it on this little
chain which I wear around my neck. I 've worn


shirt. Crowded Owl want one speckled shirt, t
You send two speckled shirts. You good I
Little Man. You do that. Good-bye.
MAIDEN'S HEART, Cheyenne Chief
"Written by me, James R. Chalott, this sevei
r day of March, 187-, at the dictation of the abo
mentioned Maiden's Heart. He has requested
to add that he wants the speckles to be red, and
large as you can get them."

oo. it ever since I got it. And I see you each have
3ig kept yours on your watch-guards."
Yes," I said, "and they 're the only things of
the kind we saved from the burning 'Tigris.'
ith Going to keep yours ? "
ve- "Yes, indeed," said Corny, warmly.
me "So shall I," said I.
as And I, too," said Rectus.
And then we shook hands, and parted.





~:. I



Il F

I Hf1

I ,

A LITTLE round head and a little red bonnet,-
Down comes a brown bee and settles upon it.
One or two kisses and off goes the rover,-
Pity the sorrows of little Miss Clover.



MRS. PETERKIN'S nerves were so shaken by
the excitement of the fall of the three little boys
into the inclosure where the cow was kept, that
the educational breakfast was long postponed.
The little boys continued at school, as before, and
the conversation dwelt as little as possible upon
the subject of education.
Mrs. Peterkin's spirits, however, gradually re-
covered. The little boys were allowed to watch
the cow at her feed. A series of strings was
arranged by Agamemnon and Solomon John, by
which the little boys could be pulled up, if they
should again fall down into the inclosure. These
were planned something like curtain-cords, and Sol-
omon John frequently amused himself by pulling
one of the little boys up, or letting him down.
Some conversation did again fall upon the old
difficulty of questions. Elizabeth Eliza declared
that it was not always necessary to answer, that

many who could, did not answer questions, the
conductors of the railroads, for instance, who
probably knew the names of all the stations on a
road, but were seldom able to tell them.
Yes," said Agamemnon, one might be a con-
Sductor without even knowing the names of the
stations, because you can't understand them when
they do tell them "
"I never know," said Elizabeth Eliza, whether
it is ignorance in them, or unwillingness, that pre-
vents 'them from telling you how soon one station
is coming, or how long you are to stop, even if one
asks ever so many times. It would be so useful if
they would tell."
Mrs. Peterkin thought this was carried too far in
the horse-cars in Boston. The conductors had
always left you as far as possible from the place
where you wanted to stop; but it seemed a little
too much to have the aldermen take it up, and put

. .i



a notice in the cars, ordering the conductors, to
stop at the farthest crossing."
Mrs. Peterkin was, indeed, recovering her spirits.
She had been carrying on a brisk correspondence
with Philadelphia, that she had imparted to no
one, and at last, she announced as its result, that
she was ready for a breakfast on educational prin-
A breakfast indeed, when it appeared! Mrs.
Peterkin had mistaken the alphabetical suggestion,
and had grasped the idea that the whole alphabet
must be represented in one breakfast.
This, therefore, was the bill of fare: Apple-
sauce, Bread, Butter, Coffee, Cream, Doughnuts,
Eggs, Fish-balls, Griddles, Ham, Ice (on butter),
Jam, Kraut (sour), Lamb-chops, Morning News-
papers, Oatmeal, Pepper, Quince-marmalade,
Rolls, Salt, Tea-Urn, Veal-pie, Waffles, Yeast-
Mr. Peterkin was proud and astonished. "Ex-
cellent !" he cried. "Every letter represented
except Z." Mrs. Peterkin drew from her pocket
a letter from the lady from Philadelphia. She
thought you would call it X-cellent for X, and she
tells us," she read, that if you come with a zest,
you will bring the Z."
Mr. Peterkin was enchanted. He only felt that
he ought to invite the children in the primary
schools to such a breakfast; what a zest, indeed,
it would give to the study of their letters !
It was decided to begin with Apple-sauce.
"How happy," exclaimed Mr. Peterkin, "that
this should come first df all! A child might be
brought up on apple-sauce till he had mastered the
first letter of the alphabet, and could go on to the
more involved subjects hidden in bread, butter,
baked beans, etc."
Agamemnon thought his father hardly knew
how much was hidden in the apple. There was all
the story of William Tell and the Swiss independ-
ence. The little boys were wild to act William
Tell, but Mrs. Peterkin was afraid of the arrows.
Mr. Peterkin proposed they should begin by eating
the apple-sauce, then discussing it, first botanically,
next historically; or perhaps first historically, be-
ginning with Adam and Eve, and the first apple.
Mrs. Peterkin feared the coffee would be getting
cold, and the griddles were waiting. For herself,
she declared she felt more at home on the marma-
lade, because the quinces came from grandfather's,
and she had seen them planted; she remembered
all about it, and now the bush came up to the sit-
ting-room window. She seemed to have heard him
tell that the town of Quincy, where the granite
came from, was named from them, and she never
quite recollected why, except they were so hard, as
hard as stone, and it took you almost the whole day

to stew them, and then you might as well set them
on again.
Mr. Peterkin was glad to be reminded of the old
place at grandfather's. In order to know thor-
oughly about apples, they ought to understand the
making of cider. Now, they might some time
drive up to grandfather's, scarcely twelve miles
away, and see the cider made. Why, indeed,
should not the family go this very day up to grand-
father's, and continue the education of the break-
Why not, indeed ? exclaimed the little boys.
A day at grandfather's would give them the whole
process of the apple, from the orchard to the cider-
mill. In this way, they could widen the field of
study, even to follow in time the cup of coffee to
It was suggested, too, that at grandfather's they
might study the processes of maple sirup, as in-
volved in the griddle-cakes.
Agamemnon pointed out the connection between
the two subjects: they were both the products of
trees-the apple-tree and the maple. Mr. Peterkin
proposed that the lesson for the day should be con-
sidered the study of trees, and on the way they
could look at other trees.
Why not, indeed, go this very day ? There was
no time like the present. Their breakfast had been
so copious, they would scarcely be in a hurry for
dinner, and would therefore have the whole day
before them.
Mrs. Peterkin could put up the remains of the
breakfast for luncheon.
But how should they go ? The carry-all, in spite
of its name, could hardly take the whole family,
though they might squeeze in six, as the little boys
did not take up much room.
Elizabeth Eliza suggested that she could spend
the night at grandfather's. Indeed, she had been
planning a visit there, and would not object to
staying some days. This would make it easier
about coming home, but it did not settle the diffi-
culty in getting there.
Why not Ride and Tie? "
The little boys were fond of walking; so was
Mr. Peterkin; and Agamemnon and Solomon John
did not object to their turn. Mrs. Peterkin could
sit in the carriage, when it was waiting for the pe-
destrians to come up; or, she said, she did not
object to a little turn of walking. Mr. Peterkin
would start with Solomon John and the little boys,
before the rest, and Agamemnon should drive his
mother and Elizabeth Eliza to the first stopping-
Then came up another question,-of Elizabeth
Eliza's trunk. If she staid a few days, she would
need to carry something. It might be hot, and it


might be cold. Just as soon as she carried her thin
things, she would need her heaviest wraps. You
never could depend upon the weather. Even Prob-
abilities got you no further than to-day.
In an inspired moment, Elizabeth Eliza bethought
herself of the express-man. She would send her
trunk by the express, and she left the table directly
to go and pack it. Mrs. Peterkin busied herself
with Amanda over the remains of the breakfast.
Mr. Peterkin and Agamemnon went to order the
horse and the express-man, and Solomon John and
the little boys prepared themselves for a pedestrian
Elizabeth Eliza found it difficult to pack in a
hurry; there were so many things she might want,
and then again she might not. She must put up
her music, because her grandfather had a piano;
and then she bethought herself of Agamemnon's
flute, and decided to pick out a volume or two of
the Encyclopedia. But it was hard to decide, all
by herself, whether to take G for griddle-cakes, or
M for maple sirup, or T for tree. She would take
as many as she could make room for. She put up
her work-box and two extra work-baskets, and she
must take some French books she had never yet
found time to read. This involved taking her
French dictionary, as she doubted if her grandfather
had one. She ought to put in a Botany," if they
were to study trees; but she could not tell which,
so she would take all there were. She might as
well take all her dresses, and it was no harm if one
had too many wraps. When she had her trunk
packed, she found it over-full; it was difficult to
shut it. She had heard Solomon John set out
from the front door with his father and the little
boys, and Agamemnon was busy holding the horse
at the side door, so there was no use in calling for
help. She got upon the trunk; she jumped upon
it; she sat down upon it, and, leaning over, found
she could lock it Yes, it was really locked.
But, on getting down from the trunk, she found
her dress had been caught in the lid; she could not
move away from it! What was worse, she was so
fastened to the trunk that she could not lean for-
ward far enough to turn the key back, to unlock
the trunk and release herself! The lock had
slipped easily, but she could not now get hold of
the key in the right way to turn it back.
She tried to pull her dress away. No, it was
caught too firmly. She called for help to her
mother or Amanda, to come and open the trunk.
But her door was shut. Nobody near enough to
hear She tried to pull the trunk toward the door,
to open it and make herself heard; but it was so
heavy that, in her constrained position, she could
not stir it. In her agony, she would have been
willing to have torn her dress; but it was her

traveling-dress, and too stout to tear. She might
cut it carefully. Alas, she had packed her scissors,
and her knife she had lent to the little boys the day
She called again. What silence there was in the
house! Her voice seemed to echo through the
room. At length, as she listened, she heard the
sound of wheels.
Was it the carriage, rolling away from the side
door? Did she hear the front door shut? She
remembered then that Amanda was to have the
day." But she, Elizabeth Eliza, was to have spoken
to Amanda, to explain to her to wait for the ex-
press-man. She was to have told her as she went
down-stairs. But she had not been able to go
down-stairs! And Amanda must have supposed
that all the family had left, and she, too, must have
gone, knowing nothing of the express-man. Yes,
she heard the wheels She heard the front door
But could they have gone without her? Then
she recalled that she had proposed walking on a
little way with Solomon John and her father, to be
picked up by Mrs. Peterkin, if she should have fin-
ished her packing in time. Her mother must have
supposed that she had done so,-that she had
spoken to Amanda, and started with the rest.
Well, she would soon discover her mistake. She
would overtake the walking party, and, not finding
Elizabeth Eliza, would return for her. Patience,
only, was needed. She looked round for something
to read; but she had packed up all her books.
She had packed her knitting. How quiet and stillit
was She tried to imagine where her mother would
meet the rest of the family. They were good
walkers, and they might have reached the two-mile
bridge. But suppose they should stop for water
beneath the arch of the bridge, as they often did,
and the carry-all should pass over it without
seeing them, her mother would not know but she
was with them And suppose her mother should
decide to leave the horse at the place proposed for
stopping, and waiting for the first pedestrian party,
and herself walk on, no one would be left to tell
the rest, when they should come up to the carry-all.
They might go on so, through the whole journey
without meeting, and she might not be missed till
they should reach her grandfather's !
Horrible thought! She would be left here alone
all day. The express-man would come, but the
express-man would go, for he would not be able
to get into the house !
She thought of the terrible story of Ginevra, of
the bride who was shut up in her trunk, and for-
ever She was shut up on hers, and knew not
when she should be released She had acted once
in the ballad of the Mistletoe Bough." She


had been one of the guests," who had sung
" Oh, the Mistletoe Bough," and had looked up
at it, and she had seen at the side-scenes how the
bride had laughingly stepped into the trunk.
But the trunk then was only a make-believe of
some boards in front of a sofa, and this was a
stern reality.
It would be late now before her family would
reach her grandfather's. Perhaps they would de-
cide to spend the night. Perhaps they would fancy
she was coming by express. She gave another
tremendous effort to move the trunk toward the
door. In vain-all was still.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Peterkin sat some time at the
door, wondering why Elizabeth Eliza did not
come down. Mr. Peterkin had started on with
Solomon John and all the little boys. Agamem-
non had packed the things into the carriage,-a
basket of lunch, a change of shoes for Mr. Peter-
kin, some extra wraps,-everything Mrs. Peterkin
could think of, for the family comfort. Still Eliza-
beth Eliza did not come. I think she must have
walked on with your father," she said, at last;
"you had better get in." Agamemnon got in.
"I should think she would have mentioned it,"
she continued; "but we may as well start on,
and pick her up !" They started off. "I hope
Elizabeth Eliza thought to speak to Amanda, but
we must ask her when we come up with her."
But they did not come up with Elizabeth Eliza.
At the turn beyond the village, they found an en-
velope stuck up in an inviting manner against a
tree. In this way, they had agreed to leave mis-
sives for each other as they passed on. This note
informed them that the ,-,i,; party was going
to take the short cut across the meadows, and
would still be in front of them.
They saw the party at last, just beyond the short
cut; but Mr. Peterkin was explaining the charac-
ter of the oak-tree to his children as they stood
around a large specimen.
I suppose he is telling them that it is some
kind of a Quercus'" said Agamemnon, thought-
Mrs. Peterkin thought Mr. Peterkin would
scarcely use such an expression, but she could see
nothing of Elizabeth Eliza. Some of the party,
however, were behind the tree, some were in front,
and Elizabeth Eliza might be behind the tree.
They were too far off to be shouted at. Mrs.
Peterkin was calmed, and went on to the stopping-
place agreed upon, which they reached before
long. This had been appointed near Farmer Gor-
don's barn, that there might be somebody at hand
whom they knew, in case there should be any diffi-
culty in untying the horse. The plan had been
that Mrs. Peterkin should always sit in the car-

riage, while the others should take turns for walk-
ing; and Agamemnon tied the horse to a fence,
and left her comfortably arranged with her knit-
ting. Indeed, she had risen so early to prepare
for the alphabetical breakfast, and had since been
so tired with preparations, that she was quite
sleepy, and would not object to a nap in the shade,
by the soothing sound of the buzzing of the flies.
But she called Agamemnon back, as he started off
for his solitary walk, with a perplexing question:
Suppose the rest all should arrive, how could
they now be accommodated in the carry-all? It
would be too much for the horse Why had Eliza-
beth Eliza gone with the rest without counting up ?
Of course, they must have expected that she-Mrs.
Peterkin-would walk on to the next stopping-
place !"
She decided there was no way but for her to
walk on. When the rest passed her, they might
make a change. So she put up her knitting cheer-
fully. It was a little joggly in the carriage, she
had already found, for the horse was restless from
the flies, and she did not like being left alone.
She walked on then with Agamemnon. It was
very pleasant at first, but the sun became hot, and
it was not long before she was fatigued. When
they reached a hay-field, she proposed going in to
rest upon one of the hay-cocks. The largest and
most shady was at the other end of the field, and
they were seated there when the carry-all passed
them in the road. Mrs. Peterkin waved parasol
and hat, and the party in the carry-all returned
their greetings, but they were too far apart to hear
each other.
Mrs. Peterkin and Agamemnon slowly resumed
their walk.
"Well, we shall find Elizabeth Eliza in the
carry-all," she said, and that will explain all."
But it took them an hour or two to reach the
carry-all, with frequent stoppings for rest, and when
they reached it, no one was in it. A note was
pinned up in the vehicle to say they had all walked
on; it was prime fun."
In this way the parties continued to dodge each
other, for Mrs. Peterkin felt that she must walk on
from the next station, and the carry-all missed her
again while she and Agamemnon stopped in a
house to rest, and for a glass of water. She reached
the carry-all to find again that no one was in it.
The party had passed on for the last station, where
it had been decided all should meet at the foot of
grandfather's hill, that they might all arrive at the
house together. Mrs. Peterkin and Agamemnon
looked out eagerly for the party all the way, as
Elizabeth Eliza must be tired by this time; but
Mrs. Peterkin's last walk had been so slow, that the
other party were far in advance and reached the


stopping-place before them. The little boys were
all rowed out on the stone fence, awaiting them,
full of delight at having reached grandfather's.
Mr. Peterkin came forward to meet them, and, at
the same moment with Mrs. Peterkin, exclaimed:
"Where is Elizabeth Eliza?" Each party looked
eagerly at the other; no Elizabeth Eliza was to be
seen. Where was she? What was to be done?
Was she left behind? Mrs. Peterkin was con-
vinced she must have somehow got to grand-
father's. They hurried up the hill. Grandfather
and all the family came out to greet them, for they
had been seen approaching. There was great
questioning, but no Elizabeth Eliza !
It was sunset; the view was wide and fine. Mr.
and Mrs. Peterkin stood and looked out from the
north to the south. Was it too late to send back
foi Elizabeth Eliza? Where was she?
Meanwhile the little boys had been informing
the family of the object of their visit, and while
Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin were looking up and down
the road, and Agamemnon and Solomon John
were explaining to each other the details of their
journeys, they had discovered some facts.
We shall have to go back," they exclaimed.
"We are too late! The maple sirup was all
made last spring."
We are too early; we shall have to stay two
or three months,-the cider is not made till
The expedition was a failure! They could
study the making of neither maple sirup nor cider,
and Elizabeth Eliza was lost, perhaps, forever!
The sun went down, and Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin
still stood to look up and down the road.
s a *
Elizabeth Eliza, meanwhile, had sat upon her
trunk, as it seemed, for ages. She recalled all the
terrible stories of prisoners,-how they had watched
the growth of flowers through cracks in the pave-
ment. She wondered how long she could live
without eating. How thankful she was for her
abundant breakfast.
At length she heard the door-bell. But who
could go to the door to answer it? In vain did
she make another effort to escape; it was impos-
sible !
How singular! there were footsteps. Some one
was going to the door; some one opened it.

"They must be burglars." Well, perhaps that
was a better fate-to be gagged by burglars, and
the neighbors informed-than to be forever locked
on her trunk. The steps approached the door.
It opened, and Amanda ushered in the express-
Amanda had not gone. She had gathered,
while waiting at the breakfast table, that there was
to be an express-man whom she must receive.
Elizabeth Eliza explained the situation. The
express-man turned the key of her trunk, and she
was released !
What should she do next? So long a time had
elapsed, she had given up all hope of her family
returning for her. But how could she reach them?
She hastily prevailed upon the express-man to
take her along until she should come up with some
of the family. At least, she should fall in with
either the walking party or the carry-all, or she
would meet them if they were on their return.
She mounted the seat with the express-man, and
slowly they took their way, stopping for occasional
parcels as they left the village.
But, much to Elizabeth Eliza's dismay, they
turned off from the main road on leaving the vil-
lage. She remonstrated, but the driver insisted
he must go round by Millikin's to leave a bedstead.
They went round by Millikin's, and then had
further turns to make. Elizabeth Eliza explained
that in this way it would be impossible for her to
find her parents and family, and at last he pro-
posed to take her all the way with her trunk. She
remembered with a shudder that when she had
first asked about her trunk, he had promised it
should certainly be delivered the next morning.
Suppose they should have to be out all night.
Where did express carts spend the night? She
thought of herself in a lone wood in an express
wagon She could scarcely bring herself to ask,
before assenting, when he should arrive ?
"He guessed he could bring up before night."
And so it happened that as Mr. and Mrs. Peter-
kin in the late sunset were looking down the hill,
wondering what they should do about the lost
Elizabeth Eliza, they saw an express wagon ap-
proaching. A female form sat upon the front
She has decided to come by express," said
Mrs. Peterkin. It is-it is-Elizabeth Eliza !"




ROB is the nicest baby,
He hardly ever cries;
And oh, he is just too lovely
When he shuts his dark-blue eyes!
Don't you wish you could see him?
It is worth a thousand sights !
I guess you would n't think so
If you had to take care of him nights !"

I 'm glad he is just so little!
Wait till he slams the doors,
Wait till he stamps, and shouts, and screams
Until he shakes the floors!
Wait till he wears great rubber boots,
And teases for balls and kites !
I guess you 'd be glad to have him grow
If you had to take care of him nights !"



SOME of my readers may have seen the Hudson at
Poughkeepsie, or the Potomac below Washington,
and you remember, perhaps, that there are places
where the river looks just like a lake and where
you might wonder if a rifle-ball could reach the
opposite shore. But travelers who skirt the coast
of South America, on a steamboat, can only tell
by the color of the water that they have left the
ocean and entered the mouth of the Amazon or
the Rio de la Plata, so vast is the width and vol-
ume of these rivers.
The Amazon River gets so extremely broad
near its lower end that you can hardly judge of its
size, unless your eyesight is sharp enough to dis-
tinguish the shores at the distant horizon from the
long-stretched woody islands in the middle of the
stream. But you begin to realize that it must be
the largest river in the world, if your steamboat
has entered one of its tributaries, the Rio Madera,
and paddled up-stream for six days and six nights
without reaching the point from where you can
always see both shores at the same time, though
the banks begin to rise to a good height and seem
steep hills near some of the landings.

There are no large towns anywhere along the
Madera River; nothing but trade-posts or mission-
ary stations and modest little villages. On the
evening of the seventh day of a trip I once made
up the Madera, when we had reached the hill-
country, on the frontier of Bolivia, the steward
or mayoral, who announced the stations, called
out such an unusually long, odd-sounding name
that he excited my curiosity.
The frontier of the Empire," he shouted,
" San Raphael, the dangerous sand-banks and the
Ark of Noah! Get ready for landing at five
o'clock! "
I turned to the captain, who was leaning over
the bulwark with a spy-glass in his hand.
What 's all this, Captain ?-shall we see all
those places at five o'clock, or is it just one place
with four different names ? "
Oh, he means the State-line station," laughed
the captain; not much of a place, I am sorry to
say, for we shall have to lay up there all night if
the boat from above has not come down yet."
A dangerous sand-bank there, it seems? "
"Yes, sir, an ugly double bar; the first company




that navigated the Madera River lost a fine boat
there, the Triton,' a big French steamer; and a
boat of our own line was ashore there for six weeks
before we could get her off."
"It must be a risky place, sure enough.. What
does he mean by the Ark of Noah ?"
That 's the Triton,' the French steamer I
I was telling you about; she got hopelessly fast
between the two main bars; and old Gruyo, the
menagerie man, has since turned her into a
monkey stable."
Old Gruyo ? Who 's that?"
Oh, he is a well-known personage in these

kitchen,-in shorthe managed to fill the boat from
the pilot-house to the cock-pit, and that 's the
reason we call it the Noah's Ark.' "
It must cost him a deal of money to support
such a family ? "
"Well, no; not the way he manages. He sells
a good many of the creatures to travelers,, or ex-
changes them for household stuff on the boats that.
call at his wharf. Food is so cheap here; the
woods are full of fruits and game, and he has four
of his boys at home who help him to provide for
his boarders."
When we landed at Don Gruyo's wharf, the sun


parts; an old Peruvian who used to take out
a cargo of wild animals and parrots every three
months, as long as the French steamers were run-
ning; but there is more trouble than profit in that
business, and when the 'Triton' ran ashore he gave
it up and tried his hand at something else; he
keeps a wood-yard now, that supplies all the
Bolivian steamers, besides our own line. His
household-children, wild-cats, monkeys and all-
he moved into the 'Triton,' and it would drive a
ship-master wild to see the way they are making
themselves at home. Crocodiles in the baggage
room, bears in the lady's cabin, water-hogs in the

had almost reached the western horizon, and I
asked the captain to let me have a skiff, a sailor
and a couple of oars, for half an hour.
"I am anxious to see that menagerie before
dark," I told him; "I suppose there will not be
much time to-morrow morning? "
Wait a moment," said the captain; the other
boat is n't down yet, but here is a messenger for
me; I am afraid there is something wrong."
He returned slowly, with an open paper in his
Just as I expected," he said. You need not
hurry, sir; we shall be here all day to-morrow; our


companion-boat has been detained by the low
water and will not be down here before to-morrow
Do you think Mr. Gruyo could accommodate
one more boarder? I asked the captain.
I think he could; visitors from San Carlos
have often stopped with him for a couple of days.
Do you wish to pass the night ashore? "
Yes, if you can spare me one of your deck-
hands to paddle me across."
All right," said the captain; old Pedro here
would like that job, I know; he will help you in
getting your things from the cabin, whatever you
want to take along."
The sand-bar was half a mile from the wharf,
but we had hardly left the boat when the people
of the Ark seemed to have perceived our intention;
for two of Mr. Gruyo's boys ran down to the
water's edge, and by shouts and signals, helped
my boatman to avoid the dangerous shoals.
"The Major has not seen us yet," said Pedro;
"he commonly sends one of his boys across in a
skiff, as soon as our boat lands."
"The Major? You mean Mr. Gruyo, don't
you? Is he an officer?"
I don't know, sir; that 's what the settlers
hereabouts call him; I believe he was an officer in
the Peruvian army, though it puzzles me how he
could keep a company of soldiers in proper order.
He 's a great deal too kind-hearted; his monkeys
and young bears carry on in a way that would
bring any other man to disgrace."

Behind a copse of newly planted willow-trees
the Ark came in sight. It was the hull of a large
steamboat, whose smoke-stack and wheel had been
VOL. VI.-56.

lost or removed, while the addition of an outside
staircase and some rude windows gave it the

appearance of a curiously shaped house, without a
roof and without a basement. The new proprietor
had built himself a sort of a floating wharf, and, as
soon as we landed, the boys secured our skiff,
helped me ashore, and pounced upon my baggage.
Hurrah, Manuel !" shouted the younger of the
two, "look here; the gentleman has brought an
armful of newspapers along;, now we shall find out
whether the French or the Prussians have con-
quered. Please, sir, let us have those newspapers;
we will take good care of them."
While they scampered up the plank-road, three
of the grown residents came down from the Ark:
an old gentleman in a dressing-gown, and with a
Peruvian turban on his head that gave him some-
what of an oriental appearance; an old negro with
a chair under his arm, and a big panther that
walked up to me like an old acquaintance, rubbed
his head against my knee, and marched at my
side with the liveliest demonstrations of friendship.
You must excuse the bad manners of my boys,
sir," said Mr. Gruyo, when we had shaken hands
all around. They have been brought up in the
woods, you see, and don't know how to meet a
visitor. My Pinto here" (pointing to the panther)
"has been twice to Havana and back, and see the
difference, children turning to the boys. "He
knows that you should salute a stranger before


bothering him with questions or asking favors of
him. Well, sit down, sir," he said; "they are
getting a room ready for you. You were mighty
sensible to leave that stuffy old boat; I am going
to give you a nice airy chamber instead of those
tight boxes they expect you to sleep in. Besides,
there is such a strong current at the lower wharf,
that the steamer goes up
and down like a cradle. I l'
often used to get sea-sick
before we reached the sea.
I do not like that everlasting "
shaking of a steamboat, and
a sailing-vessel is worse yet."
You mean you have no
use for a ship till she is
ashore ? I suppose then you
did not regret to discon-
tinue your trips to Havana?"
"Not a bit, sir-not a
bit," said the Major. "Too
much danger and sea-sick- '
ness. And besides, I did n't ''.
like the business itself; it I
wrings my heart to think !
how our poor animals are
treated in the Cuban and
Northern menageries; they
are starved and abused, and 'l;
get hardly room enough to
turn around; and what they ,
must suffer from the cold
climate of those Northern

means anxious to leave him. While we clambered
up to the door of the main cabin, we saw a mixed
congregation of parrots, cranes and pheasants,
perched on the open balustrade; and on a bucket
in a corner of the first landing sat a fish-hawk,
that took wing at our approach, and alighted on a
railing at the further end of the boat, as if to show
that he could fly
away if only he had
-l i a mind to. Two
or three monkeys
were leaping about
the gallery; and
T, when we opened
the door, a troop
of mayarros trotted
around the corner,
and tried to follow
us into the dining-
~ room,-queer, fat
creatures, looking
almost like short-

1-,4 z i ,

t b 1 1 C i -
I i' ..ij

legged hogs or
overgrown guinea-
After supper, my
I.:-ittman went back to
.-rh one of Mr. Gruyo's
pilot, while I followed
It., bedroom.
.. it sleep soundly and
i. -ht," said Mr. Gruyo,

states! Some baboons and 1 'u-iil -.d profoundly for a
cats are so wicked that I r -i .11 i ih ,," I replied, "unless
should say it serves them ,o. I t. i,. L d,- i enough to wake me.
right; buta poor little squir- r; I:- l e at six o'clock."
rel-monkey, sir, or a good, bu I -oon found that I had
steady bear that does his s ''~'r', :,.:d more than I could
best to keep out of trouble, -d.:. Close to the board
-I think it's a shame, sir, .,rr Lionofmybed-cham-
to sell them to a menagerie." .- b:-, :. curious rasping and
I do not doubt that your .ing was going on, as
pets would be sorry to leave :" .1 beaver or a strong
you, senior; I hear you treat ',. ..~i.... rel were trying to bite
them with a good deal of .1 ,' y through, and right
indulgence?" i '' ..i.. lead seemed to be a
Yes, sir, but they know ,. -stable, for ever), now
that I sell them to New York -,,,l then the ceiling was
traders whenever they mis- / shaken by a vigorous kick,
behave on purpose, though THE HOWLING BABOONS DISAGREE. and 1 thought I heard
I am always glad to do some heavy animal rub its
them a favor as long as they attend to their duties, hide against a post. From below, and, as it often
I am sorry it 's so dark now, but you must see my seemed, from somewhere out on the river, came a
institute the first thing in the morning, sir. Come flute-like, wailing sound, as if shipwrecked mari-
to supper now." ners with melodious voices were calling for help
Mr. Gruyo's captives seemed, indeed, by no from a great distance; but I had heard those




'879.] NOAH'S ARK ASHORE. 827

sounds before, and recognized them as the cries
of a small species of sea-gull that frequents the
large rivers of Brazil, as well as the coasts. I was
more than half asleep, when one of the flamingoes
on the balustrade screamed away with all his
might, and what was worse, seemed to have awak-
ened his winged and four-footed neighbors all
around. From somewhere below I heard a tink-
ling noise, somewhat like the clucking of a hen,
but much more yet like the sound of little bells,
accompanied by a mysterious rustling and rum-
bling: sometimes a single bump and a low tink-
ling of the bells, then a longer rumbling and
repeated tinkles, and finally a series of bumps and
a confused noise, as if the Swiss Bell-ringers were
falling down-stairs with all their instruments.
What in the name of common sense could it be ?
I thought it reminded me of a noise I had heard
in the shore thickets of the lower Amazon in
moonlight nights, though I could hardly persuade
myself that animals could produce such a metallic
But what puzzled me still more was the noise
overhead; the kicks and thumps became more
frequent, and were now mingled with groans and
a most singular gurgling howl, as if a man was
trying to roar away with his mouth full of water,
and was getting choked in the attempt. I could
not sleep, but my curiosity got the better of my


vexation, and if I had been able to light my can-
dle, I should have gone upstairs to investigate the

matter. Toward midnight the bumps subsided,
and the bell-ringers seemed to have concluded
their soiree; but the rasping in the wall still con-
tinued, and when I finally fell asleep, I dreamed
that I was on board of an ocean steamer, and that
some monster of the deep was trying to scuttle the
ship by gnawing away at the walls.
I hope you have enjoyed a good night's rest ?"
was the Major's first question at breakfast.
"Do you really think that possible?" I was
going to say, but I remembered that millers and
engineers become case-hardened by hearing the
noise of their machinery night and day; they
sleep all the better for it, and forget that other
people don't.
Your beds would do credit to an English
hotel," I replied; and I wonder how you manage
to keep everything so tidy ? You have some four-
legged boarders in the upper story, have n't you?"
Yes, a few; the bramadors (howling baboons)
are in a chamber by themselves, and the arma-
dillos sleep up there."
"Howling baboons? that explains it," I thought.
" Some of your monkeys are wearing bells," I
said; "or what makes that queer tinkling noise ?"
"Tinkling? Oh, I know-you mean the polls,
the little black pheasants; they get unruly now
and then after dark, and rush around and make a
ringing noise as if you kept twenty cymbals
going. They are just below your room,-I am
afraid you heard them very plainly last night?"
Not as plainly as the baboons overhead; they
seemed to have a grand wrestling match, combined
with vocal exercises."
The rascals I will tell you what it is: there
are five or six of them trying to get on a shelf
that 's hardly large enough for one or two to sleep
on, so they push one another overboard and get
mad about it. If they don't feel like sleeping,
they do not show the least consideration for other
people's feelings, and I must sell one or two of
them to make the rest more careful. Now, some
monkeys are just as sensible as old professors;
would you like to see them?"
Oh yes! Introduce me if you please; let 's
have a look at the whole college."
If Noah's guests were as well off as Mr. Gruyo's,
they must have been almost sorry when the waters
assuaged and the ark landed on Mount Ararat.
Birds, quadrupeds and reptiles were running at large
on the Triton," and proved by their behavior
that they felt as perfectly at home as a badger in
his burrow. In a recess under the main stair-way
a bear was lying on her back and playing with her
cubs; monkeys of all sizes and all ages were run-
ning races around the galleries, and, under the
roof of the carpenter-shop, parrots and pigeons had


their nests, and were flying about all day long, while
the ladies' cabin was the general play-ground,
where boys, bears and all could enjoy their leisure
hours. Mr. Gruyo's youngest son was sitting on
a little stool, sharing his breakfast with a squirrel-
monkey; raccoons, weasels and foxes were playing
at hide-and-seek in the broken wainscoting; a big
black squirrel had made his nest in the hollow
wall, and was putting in a store of provisions, and
near one of the windows a young puma was lying
fast asleep. Outside, in a corner of the gallery, a
litter of mayarros, or water-hogs, were hustling
about in a pile of straw, and near the carpenter-
shop a cabron (mountain goat) and four guinea-
pigs were sharing an armful of green vegetables.
In the shop, a silky-haired spaniel was nursing
her young ones, and when we opened the door
she jumped up and made a dash at a tame capu-
chin-monkey that had followed us from the cabin.
"Would you like to see our wild cats?" said
the old negro, who had shown me around. We
keep them in that pen over there; they are the
only creatures we cannot trust at large."
The cats, a species of ocelot, or dwarf panther,
were chained up in a tool-shop, and looked cer-
tainly as if they could not be trusted among the
rest of the boarders.


How did you manage to catch those wild fel-
lows? I asked the negro, who stood by me.

"Our wood-choppers found them in a hollow
tree," he said. "We had six of them, but they
all got away ex-
cepting <-.- these two,
and I ... .. ~. i- they were
gone,too \ ,' i !-:' k -ep getting
more ant. 1-..i . ,. 'age with
every siri ., '1, grow."
"I.sup .. it is a
greattroit- ble to

when I Ienough,
f"It av ll .,r 1'^^ ^-: enough,
when I ..i '. i ,, r all alone,
but now thei .. ,i l.oys help

me, and ':,n
are getti Ii-_
themsel' V..-
cranes al 1.

L.I tl. creatures
., I-ike care of
t(.-i-'t feed our
i...: it all, and

only t"..- .r tr of our
parrots g 'I. r 1i i here; the
rest ar. :.lI, l.1,:rs, and
takethe: i'i.. : !i. I I th woods."
"Are .. d....r ',i .. d they
might fc .-r .. C- : ... .: back?"
"No, si. ,i . their
young ...: !.!. and no-
body '.:t.h,-. il..I : it'would
be different if we kept them
cagedup. They A LIVELY TALK. are quite safe
here, and it seems that they
would a great deal rather stay with us than out in
the woods, where all sorts of wild creatures get
after them."
When we went back to the ladies' cabin, we
found that some new guests had arrived in the
meanwhile; four of the bramadors, or howling
baboons, had come down from their private apart-
ments, and one of Mr. Gruyo's boys was trotting
around the hall on a tame tapir, that seemed to
enjoy the fun quite as much as his rider.
What 's this?" I asked, pointing to a sort of
knotted rope that was hanging down from the
broken chandelier.
That 's the monkey-swing," said my guide;
"they would be exercising on that like rope-
dancers, if they were not afraid of you. It makes
them shy to see a stranger."
I had noticed something of the sort myself; so,
after dinner, I took a seat in the darkest corner of
the cabin, where the Major joined me before long,
and where we could watch his pets unobserved.
When you see animals in a menagerie, they
appear sullen and stupid, every one of them; but
if they are unconfined, they show that there is just
as much difference in their dispositions as among a
house full of school-boys. Even between individ-



uals of the same species I could notice such dis-
tinctions. The same little capuchin-monkey that
had been quarreling with the spaniel was now
quarreling with his comrades, and playing all sorts
of mischievous pranks, while two of his relations
were sitting arm in arm on a step-ladder, the pict-
ure of tender friendship and contented peaceful-
ness. Three of the howling baboons were taking a
sociable walk around the cabin, and mixed freely
with the smaller animals;
but one baboon was c.ri.u.:l,-
ing in a corner all b:, iii- -
self, and growled vici:.ni., l
if any living thing cent.i. -: 11n hI.
In regard to foo.l. r, .....:.,u ..
animals are strange) ii, i'.,. di: lr ,; :.
they take a bite at .- piii.:-.,I ..!.: i il 'i
throw it away, crack a cLur .,,.l .1 [ it ialf -
after picking out a fi .. ( i _-.i'.: t A'f
the meat, or eat then l.! ...I
never care if anything; ii k it -i
for the next day; I.ut
while the monkeys, ;m-
nea-pigs and raccoor., -
were wasting their
food in this reck-
less fashion, the
black squirrel pick-
and kernels it could .
find and stored
them away in its
private granary. A-
little lonie or squir- s
rel-monkey, enter-
tained us by his -
daring performan- -
ces on the knotted -
rope; he swung
around in a circle,
jumped against the -.
ceiling and came ,'/
down head fore- MOTHER MORETTA D
most, but grabbed
the rope with his tailjust in time to save himself from
a fall; turned somersaults in the air, on the step-
ladder, and on the floor; in short, seemed incapa-
ble of keeping quiet for a single second. An animal
of about the same size, but unlike the lorie in every
other respect, was lying on his belly at the foot of
the step-ladder, motionless and apparently lifeless;
an old ayF, or sloth, as our language very properly
calls it. A sloth would rather die than save its life
by bestirring itself, and, what is still stranger, the
operations of its mind seem quite as sluggish as
those of its body. You can teach an ayE to come
for his dinner, or to crawl after you if you walk

slowly around the room, but you have to call him
three or four times before he makes up his mind to
stir a foot. One of the baboons, happening to pass
near the step-ladder, grabbed the aye by the tail,
turned it over on its back, fetched it a bite and
scampered away. The aye lay motionless for a
while, but then, as if he gradually comprehended
the indignity he had suffered, broke out in a series
of cries which increased from a grunting squeak to
frightful screams, then suddenly
i....i':1.1, i: if he remembered some-


thui, 'I:c, iiid, turning slowly over,
ni.iriniged with difficulty to
S;, get on his feet again.
S Somebody opened
a door on the lower
deck, and soon after
i troop of young spider-
i. .:'nkeys (frates delgados,
Ii .t is, brother long-legs,
tlh. Spaniards call them)
j r,,hed into the room, up-
j' ii the step-ladder, chased
ili squirrel up and down
the cabin, up the wall and
Lto its hole, and suc-
,:' eded in driving the surly
b.boon out of his corner
.,,d out on the gallery.
\\hen they were gone,
the Major's eldest son
., me in:
The long-legs
broke out when I
'U~ opened the old bag-
S gage-room," he said;
S''"but, if you will let
me, I will get the
Smastiff after them
ii and drive them back.
Will you, father?"
"Well, no; let
them alone," said the

merciful man; "they
are sowing their wild oats, and will get more steady
as they grow older. But let's go out and see what
they are up to now."
Halloo did you hear that yell? Listen," said
the boy; I knew they would get themselves into
some trouble or other. They have tackled the bear
now; that's what they have been doing."
The long-legs rushed by in wild flight when we
stepped out on the gallery; but one of,them
limped visibly, and could hardly follow his com,-
"What 's up here ?" said the Major.
It 's Moretta" (the bear), said the negro. "I




was just coming upstairs when she fetched one of
them an ugly scratch. They were running helter-
skelter against her cubs, and she sprang up and
got at one of the long-legs. Tore a piece of his
hide off, I guess."
The Major walked up to the bear-camp and
shook his finger at the old lady.
"What have you been doing, Moretta?" he
said; "don't you know that you ought to make
allowance for the inexperience of such young ani-
mals? You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
Stop," said Mr. Gruyo, when we passed the
carpenter-shop; I wonder what that cabron is
going to do; look at him."
The cabron or mountain goat was standing upon

loped around and around the carpenter-shop with
flashing eyes, as if he hoped to discover some
means of following his enemy to the roof. Finding
that stronghold unapproachable, he jumped upon
the railing, shook his teeth at'the cabron, and gave
him a bit of his mind,-I do not know in what lan-
guage, but in such emphatic terms that we all
burst out laughing. The Major alone did not smile
but eyed the chattering animal with a severe
"It served him just right," he said; "look
here,"-showing me a deep scar on his left hand,
-" a year ago orne of his whelps fell into the river,
and I got a skiff and saved its life; and two weeks
after, this old one bit my hand through and


the roof, at the very edge, watching our old friend,
the snarling baboon, who had taken a seat upon
an empty keg, and was picking the seeds out of a
piece of water-pumpkin. The cabron walked to
the opposite end of the roof and jumped down, so
nimbly and cleverly that he alighted upon a small
bundle of grass, almost without any noise. Sneak-
ing, around the shop he next appeared in rear of
the baboon, measured his distance, stepped back a
little, and suddenly rushed against the pumpkin-
eater with such violence that he hurled the keg
against the railing of the boat, while the baboon,
taken completely by surprise, went down head
over heels against the boards of the shop. The
cabron then stepped back, brought his legs close
together, and regained the roof by a magnificent
For a moment, the baboon lay on his back,
speechless with rage; but in the next instant he
jumped to his feet with a coughing roar, and gal-

through. He is an ungrateful, most heartless
The puppies in the shop began to whine, and
their mother growled and scratched at the door.
Halloo!" said I, the spaniel in there is getting
uneasy; this noise here frightened her."
"No, no," said the old negro, looking around,
" she is after something else. I thought so; here's
the capuchin-monkey,-that's what ails her. She
can stand any amount of noise, but she can't abide
the capuchin. I guess she takes him for a cat, on
account of his hairy tail."
When we went back to the cabin, we left the
two monkeys making faces at the carpenter-shop,
the baboon at the roof, and the capuchin at the.
I was in the dining-room, looking at a glass box
full of small fish and water-lizards, when the Major
walked up to me in great excitement:
Oh, senior," he said, "don't you want to buy a



bear, or do you know if there are any other passen-
gers on the steamer who might like to have one?
I must sell a bear; I can't forgive him what he has
been doing just now."
"Who is it?" I asked; the she-bear with her
"No, no; the he-bear, the rascal; he hid him-
self behind a pile of gunny-bags, near the pantry,
and when the door was left open for a minute, he
went in and ate a basketful of bananas."
Too bad, too bad !" said I; "but wait till to-
morrow, senior; may be you will forgive him yet.
He thought, perhaps, the door was left open on
"That's no excuse at all," cried the Major;
"bananas are sixty-five cents a bushel now, and
he ought to know better than to eat a whole basket-
ful. I shall sell him before the end of this week."
We had a late supper, and I took care not to go


to bed before I was sure that the baboons had set-
tled their dispute about the possession of that shelf.
A little after sunrise the negro waked me with the
announcement that my boatman was coming, and
that the steamer would leave at nine o'clock.
We had a little breakfast, and when the boat
blew her first whistle, I settled my bill, and left
the ark in its solitude.
".My boys would take you across in our family
boat," said the Major, but this is Sunday, and I
sent them all to the Mission church."
The Major, the negro, and some of the four-
legged boarders, followed me down to the wharf.
Halloo! look here," said I; "here are our
two prize-fighters,-the spaniel and the capuchin;
it is a great wonder they are not quarreling !"
I would not advise them to try it," said the
Major, very gravely; they know better than to
fight on Sunday."

(A Fable.)


A ROBIN flew down to a river to drink,
But stopped, ere she sipped it, a moment to think,-
"If drinking a little can do so much good,
How fine I should feel if I lived in the flood!"
So she hopped in the stream to accomplish her wish,
But sank to the bottom, and died among fish.
She scarcely had chirrtped her odd fancy out,
When, looking before her, she spied a fine Trout
Who was lying quite still, and heard the queer wish,-
So odd for a robin, but right for a fish.
Just then a fat insect had caught the Trout's eye,
And up to the surface he flew for the fly.
" Delicious he cried. If such things fill the air,
'T were better, by far, to leave here, and live there "
So hoping to feast upon many flies more,
He leaped from the water, and died on the shore.


Be always contented; but, if you aim higher,
Think twice, lest you leap from the pan to the fire.
Remember, a little will often be good,
When more, if we take'it, would poison our food.
And then, above all things, let nothing compel us,
To. wish we were somebody else, or be jealous!


': I "',,, I jlr




.~. ,17 L



~C"i' r'~l~ti~i




BY J. L.

HIGH up among the mountains of China, stands
one of the most curious religious edifices in the
world. It is the monastery of Yung-feu," where
a body of Chinese priests live at a height above
their fellow-creatures, which is supposed to cor-
respond with their superior eminence in sanctity.
The monastery consists of several buildings,
which are set upon the rocks at the entrance
of an immense cavern near the top of a lofty
mountain. These rocks are so precipitous, and
reach to such a frightful height, that it seems
almost impossible for anyone to get up to the
buildings without the aid of a balloon. And it is,
indeed, a difficult task to climb to those enormous
heights. Near the monastery there are steps, cut
in the rock, but for most of the journey from the
level country beneath,,the narrow, steep and slip-
pery path leads sometimes through lonely gorges,
with high walls of bare rock, and sometimes through
through.thick and dark forests..
One of the buildings is supported on tall tim-
bers which, at a little distance, look like slender
poles, and it might easily be supposed that if one
of these should happen to break, the whole house
would go tumbling down among the rocks. But
the house may be better fastened and strengthened
than we think, for the Chinese and the Japanese
have a way of making things with bamboo-poles

and sticks and reeds. which look quite frail and
shaky, but which are really very strong.
Here the Chinese priests and devotees live year
after year, almost out of the world, and certainly
high above the greater part of it, and they probably
think that by shutting themselves up among these
lofty, and almost inaccessible crags, they are per-
,forming a religious duty of a high order.
In spite of the difficulties and dangers of the
ascent, the dwellers in the monastery frequently
receive visits from travelers. There is much here
to interest visitors,- the vast cave to the entrance
of which the buildings seem standing guard; the
deep ravines down into which one can look from
almost any part of the houses, and the people them-
selves whose strange idea of religious duty has led
them to pass their lives among the caves and
precipices of this desolate and gloomy mountain.
Many an American boy, however, would be apt,
as he looked upon that queer house set upon its
stilts, to think what a jolly thing it would be-if
nobody lived in the house-to climb up there
some day with a saw, cut through a couple of those
poles, and let the whole affair. come tumbling down
the rocks. It would make a splendid crash, and
it would be so easy to do it !
But it will probably be a long time before any
boy with a saw shall find those houses empty.



KATE was a polygon. Now I am afraid some
of you will be thinking of those funny little black
th;i.- ti tr you see in the spring going wiggle-
waggle around in the pools of water by the road-
side; but, dear me, I did n't mean anything of the
sort. It tells about them in the back part of the
arithmetic-about the polygons, I mean. They
are figures having many sides; and Kate as a
character had a great many sides, so of course she
was a polygon.
There was one side when she came down-stairs
on a sunny morning with a footstep as light as

that of a young gazelle, and gave everybody a
hearty kiss and a smile, and flew around like a
little breeze helping her mother set the table and
turn the pancakes-that is to say, the griddle-cakes,
the flapjacks. At such times her mother looked
pleased, and called her Kitty; and dear old grand-
ma would say, "Bless her little heart, what a
happy child she is." Butmay be Kate would eat a
little too much sirup on her breakfast cakes, which
would make her uncomfortable, and then she
would go around scowling and puckering up her
face, and nothing would please her, and by bed-



time she would n't have a smile for any one, nor
scarcely a civility. Before the next morning, she
would have reflected upon her course, and consid-
ered what a misspent day had gone by, ard she
would make up her mind to be serene and dignified,
like her Sunday-school teacher. So she would help
her mother in a grave, womanly manner, answering
sweetly, "Yes, ma'am, or "No, ma'am," but no
more; and she would tie grandma's cap-strings,
and fix the cushions in her chair so comfortably, and
save her the nicest piece of fried sausage. And
grandma would murmur to herself, "That dear
child aint long for this world, bless her lovely face !"
You see grandma would forget how cross Kate was
the day before. On such occasions her mother called
her Katy, and looked upon her as her right-hand
supporter, for Molly was always busy dressing the
children before breakfast.
But wait a little while. At eleven o'clock on
just such a day as that, Kate's dearest friend,
Almira, came from the village to see her, and they
began their festivities by a gentle, quiet game with
their dolls, and were perfect models of propriety
for about one hour. They then glided lightly into
the mirthful amusement of jumping rope; then
waxing riotous, nothing short of sliding down
straw-stacks and jumping from the hay-mow into
the "bay" would satisfy them. Finally, they de-
generated into perfect tom-boys, and, taking hold
of the little calves' tails, goaded those innocent
bovines into a frenzy of fright with screams and
yells of Go 'long," and Git up, Bossy; and,
breaking all boundaries, went cantering down the
road right past the front door, like young Indians
on a buffalo hunt. Then did Kate's mother ap-
pear in the door-way, stern and forbidding, and
call out distinctly, Katherine, I am astonished
at you "
Kate's head drooped, and mortification seized
her; subdued and ashamed, she returned from
the chase and spent the rest of the day in serious
talk with her' dearest friend, who returned to her
village home with very enlarged views of life, but
with a faint, lingering wish that Kate was n't so
That is how Kate was a polygon; at least, that
is part of it; she had so many, many sides,
that I would n't bother you to hear about them
One day, when Kate was in one of her peculiar
states of mind, she and Molly and Bert and Davy
had the circle of their society enlarged by the
arrival of two visitors, Fanny and Lulu, who had
come to spend the day.
The state in which Kate that day existed was
one of partial melancholy, caused mainly by
jealousy. Her mind had long been revolving a

gloomy subject, namely, that her mother did n't
love her so much as she did the other children,
particularly Danny, the big brother of them all.
She had thought about it more or less ever since
the day her mother so sternly reproved her about
the calves. "Mother does n't love me, I know,"
she thought, "or she never would have looked so
at me; she never looks that way at Danny." It
did n't occur to Kate that Danny seldom needed
" looking at," but was a wonderfully well-behaved
boy for his fifteen years.
The children played nimbly for some time with
the long bench in the chip-yard, making believe it
was a boat, and spearing lots of alligators (those
were hens), with a terrible great spear (that was a
clothes pole). After a while they were shipwrecked,
and being, like all shipwrecked people, voraciously
hungry, they filed into the house, to see what they
could find to eat. They stood in a clamorous row
around the table where Mrs. Witherling was mak-
ing cottage cheese, and that kind-hearted woman
wiped her hands and spread for each child a slice
of bread and butter, and then returned to her work.
Now," thought Kate, with a deep sigh, this
is a good time to ask mother about that, right be-
fore everybody," and taking her fate in her hands
along with her bread and butter, she said:
Mother, which of us do you like the best ?"
"Why, I like you all, every one," said her
mother, puzzled a little.
Believe you like Danny the best," said Kate,
Mother does; she always gives him the big-
gest piece of everything," said Molly, satisfied that
the whole question was now settled.
Daniel is biggest," said their inm.t r that's
why I give him the biggest piece of everything."
No, but you never scold him," said Kate.
Perhaps he does n't disobey me so much," said
her mother, mildly.
"Disobey" was a very uncomfortable word to
Kate, and she never used it, on any account.
"Well, then," said she, you like Danny the
best, because he is the best, don't you, mother ? "
"No," said her mother, "I Ih;.e Daniel and
every one of you just the same; but I don't have
to scold him so much, because he minds better."
But I don't believe you like me so vc:ll as you
do Danny, or any of the rest," argued Kate.
"Why, yes, child, I do. What in the world
made you think such a thing? "
Mamma, make me a cheese?" asked Davy.
S"Make you a cheese ?" answered mamma, laugh-
ing. Yes, I 'll make you a cheese," and she rolled
up a cunning little ball, about the size of a marble,
and put it in Davy's fat little hand, and he put it
directly in his red little mouth.



Me one, mamma," said Bert.
Then every one must have a cheese, and Kate
silently took hers, among the rest. She had not
answered her mother's question, but turned away,
feeling a little as if she wanted to cry. She knew
now that her mother didn't love her like Davy,
because she petted him, nor like Danny, for she
respected him so. She didn't blame her, oh no,
but she felt very forsaken and desolate. Such is
the power of jealousy.
Now, children," said Mrs. Witherling, "run
out and play; don't go too far away, for father'll
be home soon, and then we 'll have supper."
The children walked out meditatively munching
their cheeses as they went. Who would have
thought they would get into mischief in less than
two minutes and under their mother's very eyes ?
Oh, there's the well; let's go and look down,"
cried Molly, casting a doubtful eye at the windows,
to see if her mother was watching, for she well
knew there was danger in that "long hole."
The well was a new one, about twenty feet deep,
and dry, because the men had n't found water yet.
But they would find it, sure, because old Mr.
Cripps had tried it with a witch-hazel that twisted
around like everything when he held it in his hands
over the place.
"There's water thar; there's water thar," he
said. Keep a-diggin' an' you '11 come to it."
I s'pose there's water som'eres between here
an' Chiny," one of the men answered.
The diggers were gone to the caucus that after-
noon, with father and Uncle Rick and Danny, and
the well was covered with boards. Kate asked her
mother that morning when she heard about it, if
she and Molly could n't go, too.
Why, child, what do you want to go there
for?" her mother asked, much amused.
"To see the wild beasts, and the animals, and
everything," Kate responded.
Her mother laughed and said she hoped there
would n't be any wild animals there. It was only
a kind of meeting where people made speeches,
and she did n't believe Kate would enjoy it very
About an hour afterward, Kate happened to
think that circus was the word she had meant,
instead of caucus, and she felt very sheepish.
So that was how the well was left to take care of
itself. There was no curb, but there was a wind-
lass, and a bucket in which the men let themselves
down, and drew up the gravel and clay that they
dug out.
Let's look in," said Molly, who was afraid of
nothing; and Fanny, who was afraid of but one
thing, and that was a cow, drew near, and tried to
peer through the cracks between the boards. Molly

pulled one of the boards aside, and pushing her
gingham sun-bonnet back from her face, gazed
down; then seeing nothing but great darkness,
pulled away another board.
"Oh, girls, it's splendid she cried. It's
awful deep, and dark, and funny! How I would
like to go down again !"
Kate and Fanny scrambled to the edge, and were
likewise delighted with the view. Then little Lulu
and Bert and Davy all clamored to see, and were
held tightly by their skirts, and allowed to enjoy
the dangerous pleasure "just a little minute," and
were then set carefully back several feet from the
I '11 let you down, Kate, if you want to go,"
said Molly.
Would n't you rather go first?" asked Kate,
a little timidly.
No," said Molly, decidedly; that is, no about
going now, because you aint strong enough to let
me down, but not no because I am afraid. Why,"
she said, growing enthusiastic, Uncle Rick let
me down just by the rope alone; I just put my
foot in the hook that they hang the bucket on, and
I hung on to the rope with only one hand and
swung down magnificent! It was grander than
any swing you ever saw."
Kate's fears were forgotten at this glowing ac-
count, and after Molly had wound up the rope on
the windlass, she seated herself in the somewhat
clayey bucket, and prepared to descend. The
bucket swung off the platform grandly and moved
at first with a slow, jerking motion. But soon the
jerks came faster and faster, the windlass thumped
very loud, and the bucket began to whirl around
and around and to bump against the narrow walls,
and in a moment more, with a dreadful shock, it
struck the bottom of the well. A quantity of sand
and dirt flew into Kate's face, and the long, heavy
rope came circling and coiling down on her poor
little head. She offered a few screams which were
answered by faint, frightened screams from upper
earth. Then the water began to ooze through the
sandy floor of her prison. Evidently the shock
had loosened the earth so that the underground
stream for which the men were searching found a
place to flow through. Dreadful was Kate's terror
for a moment when she thought of being drowned
away down in that dark hole, but she had presence
of mind enough to lift out the great rope, and that
lightened her queer boat so that it floated a little,
but only a very little, for it was a great, heavy
bucket, with much clay clinging to its sides,
and Kate was by no means a "light weight."
The bucket tipped about dizzily whenever she
moved, and she felt like a very forsaken mariner
in her tub, for although not a whole minute



had passed since her arrival on this unknown
sea, it seemed like a long, long while. Tears
of distress came to her eyes at thought of being
left there to drown like a rat, and she began
to think her mother didn't love her the least speck,
or she would have come to help her out. In the
midst of these mental murmurings her mother's
kind face appeared between her and the sky, and
her ringing voice called out, Don't be afraid,
Katy; sit very still and I'll help you out in just a
minute." Then her face disappeared, and soon a
doubled clothes-line came dangling down to Kate.

Then she turned her attention to Molly, whose
head had been cruelly bruised by the windlass.
That young lady felt as if an explanation was re-
quired of her for the rather imperfect manner in
which she had lowered her sister into the well;
and she accordingly went into the minutest par-
ticulars as to how the windlass became unmanage-
able, the handle slipped from her grasp, flew
around violently and hit her on the head as if it
meant to send her in search of her hapless sister,
and then somehow the rope got loose from the
windlass, and went down too. This was Molly's


Tie it to the handle of the bucket," her mother
called; "mind you tie it very tight. Wind it a
great many times round and round and round.
Be very careful, dear, and tie it strong."
How like the balm of Gilead were those tender
words to Kate's jealous little heart. She tied the
rope very carefully, and was laboriously hauled
up out of the well, and helped to totter out upon
the earth once more, weak and white.
"My darling child! cried her mother, em-
bracing her; what a narrow escape "

repentant explanation, which was received very
forgivingly, and she joined in the general joy.
The other children were too happy to contain
themselves when they saw Kate safe among them
once more, and they hopped around like a brood
of curious large chickens, hugging Kate and every-
body else, by turns.
Father and Uncle Rick and Danny soon came,
and were astonished at the news.
"Well," said Uncle Rick, "it's as old Mr.
Cripps said, after all, but who 'd have thought Katy




would find the water! It's her heft, I think; it
must be her heft."
And for a good many weeks after that, Uncle
Rick would allude to Kate as our patent well-
digger, and finder of water."
But Kate found something else besides water

while rocking in that bucket, and this was the sure
and certain knowledge that her mother loved her
ever so much. How much, she never could know,
but I think that mother's love was much deeper
than the well, and that it would have taken a much
longer rope to sound its depths.



"The boy's will is the wind's will."

WHEN I was a boy, I lived with my father on
his plantation in the Cherokee country of North
Georgia. A passion for the study of natural his-
tory, and especially ornithology, led me to spend
most of my time in the woods. I had a leather
knapsack, made water-tight, in which I carried my
books and a small telescope. My arms were an
English bow and arrows, and a very short, light,
single-barreled shot-gun.
My father's plantation consisted of some two or
three hundred acres of cleared land, lying on the
edge of an immense forest of pine and oak,
through which flowed a beautiful river, named
by.the Cherokee Indians. Coosawattee." Some
clear spring streams, too, rising in the foot-hills,
or rather the spur-ridges of the pine-log mount-
ains, rippled along the many little dells among
ferns, wild morning-glories and balsam.
This region was a paradise of birds and many
kinds of small quadrupeds. A few deer were to
Sbe seen, if you understood how to look for them,
and occasionally a flock of wild turkeys would rise
from the edge of some sedgy glade with a loud
flapping of wings, and fly away into the darkest
hollows of the woods.
Let me tell you how I prosecuted my various
studies. I wished to study all the branches of
a liberal education whilst paying especial atten-
tion to zoology and general natural history, and
I so arranged my studies that by spending more
than the usual time with my teachers Mondays,
Tuesday and Wednesdays, I had Thursdays,
Friday and Saturdays free for my woodland ram-
bliigs and out-door studies. It was a very joyful
school-life. Whilst lying beside clear mountain-
springs, in the cool shade of the wild woods, with
many rare songsters warbling above me, I read
Wilson and Bonaparte and Audubon's books on
birds. At other times I would sit on the cedar-
covered bluffs of the Coosawattee, and pore over

mathematical problems. I read some choice
novels, principally French, in order to get a good
knowledge of that language. I remember well
how "The Romance of a Poor Young Man" de-
lighted me. I translated and read, during one
bass-fishing season, the "Essay on Old Age," and
the "Somnium Scipionis" of Cicero, and many
of the odes of Horace.
My father had a friend living in England who,
finding out that I was a great bird-hunter, wrote
to ask if I could kill and skin for him two perfect
specimens of the great black woodpecker, a bird
then very hard to find, and now almost extinct in
a larger part of what was once its habitat. He
offered to pay me ten pounds, sterling money, for
the skins. Of course, I was delighted with the
chance of earning so large a sum in a way which
appeared so easy.
It was in February when I.received the letter.
I remember that a light snow, a rare thing in that
latitude so late in the winter, lay on everything,
sticking so fast to the leaves of the small pine
saplings .that the lower limbs drooped down to
the ground. I went forth at once with my shot-
gun, thinking that in a few hours I could earn the
ten pounds. But I did not at first properly con-
sider what the Englishman had meant by perfect
specimens, nor did I foresee that it would take a
whole week's hunt to get a shot at the kind of bird
I wanted; and even then to miss it !
The great American woodpecker is a beautiful
bird. He is rather larger than a tame pigeon,
almost jet black over the most of his body and
wings, though the latter, when spread out, disclose
some white feathers and spots, and his breast and
sides are mottled with shades of different dark
colors. On each side of his head is a line of white.
On his crown is a long tuft of brilliant scarlet
feathers. His beak or bill is very long, strong
and sharp. His legs are short, of a dark, dingy



hue. Nearly always when flying, he goes up and
down, as if riding on long waves of wind, and he
utters a loud cackle which echoes cheerily through
the woods.
I remember where I killed my finest specimen
of this kind of woodpecker. It was on the side of
John's Mountain, about twenty miles from father's
plantation. I was climbing up a very steep place
among Some small black-jack" trees, when the
bird flew right over my head, and launched him-
selt for a strong sweep across the valley. I threw
up my gun and fired with a hurried aim. Luckily
I hit him; but oh, where he did fall to It took
me nearly a half hour of hard, dangerous clam-
bering down the cliffs to get to him.
I sent the Englishman thirteen birds-their
skins I mean-before he got two he would be
satisfied with. Then I wrote to him not to send
me the money, but to get me the best double-
barreled shot-gun the ten pounds would buy in
London. This he did, and I afterward carried the
gun through many a big hunt in Florida.
What made my school-life in the woods most
delightful was the companionship of my brother, a
little younger than I, who studied with me. He
was a most enthusiastic egg-hunter. He collected
for the cabinets of two or three gentlemen a great
number of rare bird-eggs. We both delighted in
shooting with the bow and arrow. Sometimes we
spent a day in the woods as follows: We would go
to some one of the many cold springs of clear water
in among the hills, and select an open spot, where
we would set up a small mark to shoot at. Our
rule was to shoot for half an hour, then unstring
our bows and drink a cup of water, in which we
had dissolved some blackberry, mulberry or currant
jelly; then take our books and study hard for an
hour, afterwhich take another half-hour's shooting,
followed by lunch. Under such circumstances
study was easy and our sport was glorious.
Those little mountain streams of North Georgia
abound in bass, a very game fish. We used to
angle a great deal in the season for it. Sometimes
we would neglect our lessons a little when the fish
were particularly lively ; but we made up for this
on rainy days, when we could do nothing but study.
Late in the bass-fishing season the muscadines
ripen along the streams. They are very large wild
grapes, growing, not in clusters, but singly, as
plums do. I know of nothing more delicious than
the juice of a muscadine. We used to take a flat-
bottomed little boat, and pole it along the banks of
those rivers where the muscadine-vines covered the

overhanging trees, and, getting hold of a bough,
we would shake down the dark purple fruit until
the floor was covered. Then we would eat and
study at the same time, while the waves of the
river kept our boat gently swaying up and down.
We sometimes professed to think that muscadine
juice softened the conditions of an algebraic prob-
lem, and even brightened the angles of French verbs.
When we were reading Fenelon's Adventures of
Telemachus," we haunted a little island in the
Oothcaloga, which we named "L'ile de Calypso,"
where we built ourselves a rude shelter under a
giant plane-tree. From the stream at the south
end of this island we caught some very large bass,
and some blue perch, called bream by the Southern
Immediately after the first heavy frosts of autumn,
we went to the mountains to gather chestnuts.
The trees were generally very large, and often they
bore enormously large quantities of those huge
prickly burrs in which the nuts grow. After the
frost, the first wind would cover the ground at the
roots of the trees with the burrs already opened
and the nuts peeping out. Nowhere in the world
could be found finer chestnut forests than those of
North Georgia a few years ago; but now they are
sadly dilapidated, worms having killed many of the
trees. On our nutting excursions we went in a
mountain cart drawn by a mule, and camped out
for a week or so. We studied at night, by the light
of flaming splinters of resinous pine, called by
the Southern people lightwoodd." Our teachers
sometimes would go with us on these pleasant
rambles, giving us our lectures in the open air.
This camping out is a very enjoyable thing in every
way, when the weather is fine. Wilson's beautiful
descriptive prose discloses its very subtlest charm
when read aloud to the accompaniment of a crack-
ling out-door fire, amid the stillness of the woods
by night. Meat is juicier and bread sweeter when
eaten in the open air, and mental food takes on
the same increase of flavor and novelty of taste
when blown over by the winds, shone upon by
the sun and moon, and dampened by the dews of
When men ask me where I was educated, I an-
swer: In the University of the Woods," and they
sometimes add the further question:
Is that a German school? "
Then I look grave and shake my head, saying:
No, it is situated in the Georgian mountains."
Which, of course, sounds very much as if my
education were Asiatic !







,, i -
i@ ,-4' .

THEY were a funny pair. Kit and Sue made
them out of burdock burrs, down in the corner of
the garden under the apple-tree. The picture
shows you the way they looked, and the burrs that
had bloomed out pink were set in their faces for
eyes, and noses, and mouths. The boy had pink
buttons down his jacket.
They shall have a nice little house, right here
by this catnip," said Sue, clearing a spot.
"And now let's make them some chairs," said
You see how the chairs were made, and they had
pink cushions. The burdock boy and girl imme-
diately sat down, and stared at each other.
Then a table was made of fine strong burrs, and
burr plates were placed on it, heaped high with
pink burr dainties.
"I want an apple," said the burdock boy, in a
voice i.. : i.i Sue's.
And I want a cookey," said the girl, in tones
like Kit's.
But they did not eat much after all, and the
meal was soon over. Then said the burdock
"Will you dance?"
I can't," sighed the girl.
I can't either," laughed the boy. Will you
walk and jump?"
"No, my chair is too heavy," said the girl; for
you see when she had once sat down, she could

not get up without carrying the chair on
her back, because burrs stick so tight.
Oh, you funny little folks exclaimed
Sue; you can't do a thing but just sit
there and keep house. Come, Kit, let 's go
and see if there are any more raspberries
S ripe !"
So away the restless children ran, and
left the burdock boy and girl motionless in
their chairs. They sat there all day, and
Small night. They sat there a whole week
^ in fact, even when it rained, and they grew
S very brown and hopeless-looking, they
found it so tiresome.
S No wonder they could n't bear it any
longer. Perhaps the burdock boy whis-
r. -% pered to the burdock girl:
S Kit and Sue wont come again. Let's
go find them "
At all events, when sister Clara strolled
idly along the garden-path one day, the
little burdock folks caught fast hold of her
pretty gray skirts, and went along with her, chairs
and all.
Along the path, across the lawn, through the
piazza, and into the very parlor went the little
clinging burrs, and two or three voices called out:
Do look at your dress behind Clara "
"I '11 pick them off," said Sue good-naturedly;
and she and Kit, with great pains, disentangled
the now nearly shapeless mass of dried-up burrs.

.V I1
.: .' 3. -

and girl! But it was too late.
They threw them into the kitchen fire, and it was
not until they were fairly blazing up, that Kit said:
I do really believe that was our burdock boy
and girl! But it was too late.




THERE were once two old hens; one was named Mrs. A. M., because
she laid an egg every morning, and the other was named Mrs. P. M.,
because she laid her eggs in the afternoon. But at the time of this
story, Mrs. P. M. was not laying any eggs. She had ten little chickens
to take care of, and that was as much as she could do.
Well, Mrs. A. M. was on her nest in the chicken-house, one morning,,
and Margery Daw was standing outside in the field. Margery was a
cow, and she was standing very quietly in the shade of the chicken-
house, chewing her cud and switching off flies with her tail. There was
a window, almost over Mrs. A. M.'s nest, and this was open with the
sash propped up by a stick. Margery Daw was standing near the win-
dow, and nearly every time she switched her tail it struck the lower part
of the window, which worried Mrs. A. M. a good deal. She was afraid
the tail might come in all the way, and strike her.
I wish Margery Daw would go somewhere else and switch her tail,"
she thought; "or, if she wont do that, I wish I was not so easily
frightened. Margery is not easily frightened, and she does not know how
to feel for such little creatures as we are. She is so large, that she would
not care how much I wagged my tail or flapped my wings about her."
Just at this time a very large fly bit Margery Daw on her side, and
she gave a great switch with her tail to brush it off. She switched so
hard that she struck the stick which held up the window-sash, and jerked
it out into the field. Down came the sash with a bang, which frightened
Mrs. A. M. so much that she flew cackling and screaming off her nest.
Margery Daw was not frightened by the noise; she just looked around
to see what it was, and not noticing that anything unusual had happened,
went on chewing her cud. She soon felt another fly-bite, but when she
went to switch the fly off, she found she could not do it. The end of
her tail was fast in the window. When the window-sash fell, it caught
the long brush at the end of her tail, and, as the sash was heavy, and
fitted tightly, the brush was wedged in so firmly that she could not
move it. But it did not hurt her, because the brush was nothing but
long hair, which had no more feeling in it than the hair of your head.
Margery Daw was very much surprised when she found that she
could not switch her tail, and she began to pull away from the window
as hard as she could. And when she found that she could not even



move away from the side of the chicken-house, she became frightened,
and pulled and jerked and bellowed at a great rate.
I declare," said Mrs. A. M., she is really more frightened than
ever I was. At least, she is making more noise."
should think so," said Mrs. P. M., who was there with all her little
ones "you could not be frightened enough to make a noise like that."
Just then, the old man who owned the cow and the chickens heard
Margery Daw's bellowing and came down to the chicken-house. He

4 i r
r .. K-- -

7 'I

lifted up the window-sash and let her loose. As soon as she found she
was free, she ran as hard as she could to the other side of the field.
"Well, well," said Mrs. A. M., as she went back to her nest, "I did
not think that Margery Daw could be so frightened. But then it took
a good deal to frighten her. Being fast by the tail is a serious matter.
Perhaps I ought to try never to be frightened except by a serious mat-
ter. I will try; but, after all, cows and hens are very different creatures."
VOL. VI.57.
VOL. VI.--57.



HURRAH for October, with its brisk air, its ripe
apples and sweet nuts, and the crackle of wood-
fires in the early mornings !
Cheerful times, these, my friends; cheerful, be-
cause busy, perhaps; all the busier that the days
are shorter. And now, here are some little matters
for you to look into.
To begin with: Will somebody please tell me
the meaning of this very

DEAR MR. JACK: I write this to let you know that, out our way,
but I hope you are having seasonable weather.-Yours truly, S. K.

I ONCE thought that only Christopher Columbus
ever made an egg stand on end without support.
He did it by breaking the shell, I believe. But now
word comes of a gentleman who can set up eggs
on end, whole rows of them, so that they stand by
themselves, and that, too, without breaking one of
them He stands them best on a marble slab, and
says that it is not a difficult thing to do.
Then, what your Jack would like to know is,
why in the world did n't Columbus do it in this
way, and save his egg?
Stranger still, this steady-handed gentleman can
stand an egg on a napkin-ring and then balance
another egg on the top of the first !
I am afraid the great discoverer could n't have
done that.
But now, my patient youngsters, get a lot of
eggs,-if anybody will trust you with them,-sit
down quietly, and try if you also cannot outdo
Christopher Columbus. And when you have out-

done him in the matter of standing eggs on end,
get up, and improve on a few other things he did.

Brooklyn, N. Y.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Edward C. D. once wrote to you
that he had seen in San Francisco a circular boat with sails and oars,
and you gave a picture of it in June, 1877.
We have had one of these boats in Prospect Park for a long time,
only it has water all around it, excepting just where you get in. It
is called a "rotary yacht," and the little lake is named "Lake
Como." The commodore stands on the landing and calls out that
you may have a voyage for five cents, keep it up as long as you like,
and stop at any place in the world you choose, and that there is no
extra charge for "oars and moonlight."-Yours truly, B. B.

CHARM-SHELLS are supposed by some persons
in Japan, to keep away dragons and other evils
from anybody who wears them. If the shells really
do this, Japanese dragons must be easily scared !
However, I was going to tell you of two of these
charm-shells. They had nothing terrible about
them. One was in the shape of a small roll, longer
than its width. It was prettily pointed, and was
stained outside with brown, speckled with white
The other charm was an oyster-shell, measuring
about six inches across, and filled with tiny grin-
ning images of mother-of-pearl, which were be-
lieved to be gods. There was a good number of
them, but not enough to scare a mosquito of ordi-
nary size, I am sure. How small those dragons
must be, I can't begin to think.
The way the images are made is curious. A
priest forms some little figures with lead, and slips
them between the shells of a living oyster, a few at
a time, for it would kill the fish to put in too many
at once. In the course of years, the oyster is full
of images, which it has covered with a beautiful
coating of pearly shell. Then the priest takes the
oyster-shell with its images, calls it a charm, and
sells it at a high price.

G. L. F. sends word from one of the West India
Islands, as follows:


Q. .
;---- i --

, 1 ',

The chickens here are very fond of cocoa-nut; and, if a nut be
cracked for them and a part placed on the ground, the chicks and the
hen will run to it, and, in a moment, the hollow shell will be filled
with squealing young ones, pushing, jumping, tumbling one over
another, and pecking at the sweet white meat. The mother stands




by, and, whenever she sees a chance, picks out little bits for the un-
lucky chicks who have been turned out; and all the while the shell
full of restless little beings rolls and rocks about, adding fun to the
ONE day, a friend of your Jack's was visiting the
Botanical Gardens at Durban in Natal, South
Africa. He rode through the natural jungle, away
up to the top of a beautiful range of hills, and there

- ~ . s- _
-,- --
-~I ---


he had the pleasure of finding a fine garden well
stocked with foreign trees and plants.
Hearing angry voices, the visitor waited under
some trees till the manager appeared. He looked
very hot and troubled, and made apology for the
"hard words," saying:
It would have made Job mad. I had succeeded
in growing a fine set of vines, bearing twenty-six
different kinds of grapes. I wished to find out
which kind would best suit the Natal climate, but
feared that the birds might get ahead of me. So I
had a number of muslin bags made, and told a
Zulu servant to tie up a bunch in every bag. Just
now, I met the Zulu trundling a large wheelbarrow
loaded with muslin bags stuffed with grapes. He
had cut off all the bunches first, and then tied them
up in the bags !"
That was provoking, but still the Zulu had been
obedient,-perhaps too obedient.
THIS month, my dears, you have a picture of a
mammoth elephant, which, although dead, was
preserved as fresh as a fairy for I don't know how
many thousands of years, in a big block of ice.
The creature was found by a Siberian fisherman
in the last year of the last century, as he was walk-
ing along the shore of the Arctic Ocean near the

mouth of the river Lena. Its flesh, skin, hair,
wool, and everything, were in perfect condition,
and it was about as big as a modern elephant.
Being left unguarded for some time after the ice
had melted, much of the flesh was eaten by wolves
and bears, who made no complaint about the din-
ner being cold, although it had waited for them
such a long time. The tusks, weighing three hun-
dred pounds, were taken by the finder as his prize;
and now the skeleton is
set up in St. Petersburg.
| Your Jack was remind-
-ed about this on hearing
of a discovery near New-
burgh a while ago. Some
--men, while digging a
1 trench on a farm, found
the bones of an animal
I'; | .-' .- _: that must have stood
S about twelve feet high
When alive. The bones
; .,'' were those of a masto-
don, a creature.different
1, from the mammoth ele-
phant of Siberia, and
rather larger.
There are no such ani-
S ,...' mals as these living now-
days, I believe; but if
-I' there are, I hope none
-- of them will come tramp-
- --- ing around my pulpit.
S -- --- Oho Wait a moment,
now. Of course there
can be no doubt that the
Siberian mammoth was
found actually imbedded
in the middle of a block of ice,-but how did he
get in? Find out, my boys and girls !

PERHAPS you never thought that sweet potatoes
are relatives of morning glories ? Well, they are,
and not very distant relatives, either.
Look a little further into this; and if you find
anything curious, let your Jack know, for morning
glories are great favorites of his.

Oxford, Wis.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT : Have you ever seen with your eyes,
or heard about with your ears, the mysterious glass-snake of the
Mississippi Valley?
It is not very big, and not the least dangerous: simply a little
brown reptile. Butjust hit him, and, frestio he flies into pieces as
if he were really glass and not flesh and bone.
And this is not all. The natives assure me that if left undisturbed
after he has been killed undeniably dead, he will gather his pieces
together, and squirm offagain.
A learned man, named Steele, writes of this snake: He is so con-
structed that a sudden fright, like a blow, alarms his nervous system,
and his muscles, contracting violently, break himto bits. But Steele
does not tell about this extraordinary resurrection trick of the glass-
snake. Perhaps he did not believe it could be true.
If snakes of this kind were plentiful, and 1 could test one, I would
soon find out about this.
Is there any young naturalist among your readers who can tell me
more about the habits of this odd creature, and if he is weakened by
having his nerves unstrung?-Yours inquiringly, L. K. J.





WE have received several letters in regard to the "Puzzling Pict-
ure," published in our June number, some of them coming to hand
very lately. It seems to have required a good deal of time to find
out the intention and plan of this curious picture.
Two of the letters received were very interesting. One was from
the son of the artist who, more than half a century ago, designed
and drew the original of our picture, and the other was from a grand-
daughter of said artist. These persons, one living in Dakotah Terri-
tory and the other in Nebraska, were much surprised and pleased to
see in ST. NICHOLAS a copy of the strange picture with which they
were so familiar in their youth. Each of them, not knowing that the
other had written, sent us a full description and history of the engrav-
ing, and explained the way in which it should be looked at.
The original of our picture was a large lithograph, drawn by Wil-
liam Mason, an artist and teacher in Philadelphia, about 1822 or 1824.
It represents, not a church, as was supposed, but the old Philadel-
phia Bank Building, which used to stand at the comer of Fourth and
Chestnut streets, in that city, while the edifice in the grounds is the
watchman's box. This picture was called a Horizontorium," or
" Perspective run mad," and was very much larger than the engrav-
ing which we made from it, which had to be made of a size to suit
our page.
The plan or method of drawing such a picture is as follows: All
perpendicular lines are made to radiate from the point of sight, and
all horizontal lines are drawn at right angles to each other, with one
of their angles touching a perpendicular. In our picture, the point
of sight is a quarter of an inch below the letter P, in the word "Puz-
ZLING," under the picture. It will easily be seen that all the perpen-
dicular lines in the engraving radiate from this point.
A good way to look at this picture is to take a piece of card-board,
about three inches long, and bend the bottom
of it, in the manner shown in this diagram. Two
holes should be made in the card, and the one in
the lower bent portion should be so placed that
the point of sight can be seen through it. The
hole in the upright portion should be 2 1-8 in-
ches from the bottom, or the angle formed by
the bent part. Through this upper hole the
picture should be viewed, when all its peculiar
perspective-or, rather, want of perspective-will
Letters in regard to this puzzling picture have
been received from R. H. Vanderbilt; M. V.
R.; W. I. C ; I. P. Reynolds, jr.; R. Hoard,
L. G. Francklyn, besides the full and interesting explanations from
S. Rufus Mason, and M. S. P., the son and the granddaughter of the

West Haven, Conn.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am very glad your July number gave
directions for making a hammock. I have made three, my brother
two, and my little sister (eight years old) has ma ., 1 ...., .1,
for herself. One night my brother, another boy t; ..I. .Ii, .i. I :..i
all night in them, and thought it great fun, I should have slept out
more, but I had a bad cold. We all take a great deal of comfort in
our hammocks. Mamma says she thinks we have got well paid for
taking ST. NICHOLAS this year. I am thirteen years old, and your
attentive reader, ROBERT AUGUR.

DEAR ST. NicHOLAS: In the course of my reading, I have gath-
ered one anagram and another until I have quite a curious budget,
and from it I have selected several which I now send you: Tele-
graphs-great helps Astronomers-moon-starers; Penitentiary-
nay, I repent it; Old England-golden land; John Abernethy (noted
for bluntness and roughness)-Johnny, the Bear; Radical reform-
rare mad frolic ; Presbyterian-best in prayer; Florence : i ..,, 1.
-flit on, cheering angel; Horatio Nelson-Honor
(Honor is from the Nile).
This is an Englishman's anagram on Napoleon Bonaparte: "Bona
rta ta lenopone-Rascal, yield up your stolen possessions."

A Frenchman of much note, Charles Genest, was distinguished for
a very large nose; some wag found in his name the anagram, Eh?
c'es un grand nez /-Ah, that is a big nose "
When George Thompson was urged to go into Parliament to serve
the cause of negro emancipation, a friend found a reason for this
course in the letters of his name, which were transposed into: "0 go,
-the negro's M. P."
I think you must be able to appreciate the anagram on Editors-
"so tred."-Yours, S. K.

Pottstown, Pa.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Please tell me what the Emperor Moth
(Saturnia Io) feeds on, and what heat is needed to hatch the eggs.
J. D. S.,r.
Saturnia Io feeds on the balsam, poplar and elm, and also on dog-
wood, sassafras, Indian corn and clover. The moth has been reared
successfully upon locust leaves. The ordinary heat of the air will
hatch the eggs.
Be careful not to handle the young caterpillar, as the stiff prickles
on the back sting poisonously.

ALPHABET VERSEs.-Verses containing all the letters of the alpha-
bet, as asked for in the August "Letter-Box," have been received
from Alice S. Wyman-T. F. Turner-A. L. R.-Bertie E. Sauer-
wein-Alice Robinson-A. J. G. Perkins-P. V.-and from Charlie
and Mattie Richardson, who send the following four couplets, each
of which contains all the letters of the alphabet;
At Woonsocket, July twenty-sixth, we began
Some very queer stanzas formed after this plan.

In which every joker, in alphabets seen,
Shall be fixed as requested by this magazine.

'T is unjust to expect us to rhyme "good and slick,"
When mosquitoes are buzzing, and fly very thick.

But the twenty-six letters, have each much to do,
In these queerly formed stanzas, just please look them through.
W. H. A. sends no verse, but a very short sentence, cut from
an old newspaper, and which was composed by a boy ten years old.
It contains every letter of the alphabet, and only thirty-three in all:
"Pack with my box five dozen quills.-J. Grey."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In writing to a person and asking about his
father, mother, aunt, or cousin, etc., is it proper to begin those words
with capitals, or not? And in writing of your own father, mother,
etc., which is the right way to begin the word ? Please answer in the
"Letter-Box," and you will greatly oblige
When the words "Father," "Mother," "Papa," "Mamma," etc.,
are used as though they were proper names; or when the old-fash-
ioned, colloquial particle "the" precedes "Father" or "Mother";
these four words are usually begun with capitals.
It would be proper to write: "When you have seen Father, tell
me how he is,"-or, "The Mother sends her love"; and, al o,
"When you have seen your father, tell me how he is," or, "My
mother sends her love." It is bestto begin "Pa" and "Ma" always
with capitals; but the use of these contractions in writing should be
avoided as much as possible.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: While Jessie and I were blowing soap-
bubbles, the other day, we happened to blow one in a ray of sunlight,
and it sent a curious and beautiful reflection on the white wall. We
found out that when we talked the bubble seemed to shake and trem-
ble, and the reflection also.
Thinking to get a better view of the trembling, we blew a film
across the bottom of a lamp-chimney, and set it on a chair in such a
manner as to reflect the sunlight on the wall. Any talking in



the room made the reflection jump up and down on the wall; and
certain sounds produced regular figures, like the "lathe-work" ion
a bank-bill.
After that, we tried the following experiment, which any one can
repeat: The window was
darkened with newspapers, in
which a round holeabout two /
inches across was made.
Next, a chimney from a Ger- /
man study-lamp was placed
with its shoulder on the top of
a chair, and the narrow end /
in a basin of water, which
was raised high enough by a / I '-
pile of books. Then a bub- / --
blewas blown from pipe and / ,-- I
placed in the upper end of /,' Ij

the chimney, which had been wetted
and soaped, and the bubble was set
in the sun-ray, so as to reflect upon
the wall. The film not being bulgy
enough, a little air was blown into the
chimney through the narrow end, by
means of a pipe-stem.
When a good reflection was seen on
the wall, we whistled; and, when the
right note was sounded, the beautiful
geometric figures appeared. Certain
notes would break the bubbles almost as soon as they were sounded.
Hoping you will have our rough sketch redrawn, and help to show
your other boys and girls the reality of "sound-waves," we remain,

THREE SUBSCRIBERS.-It would not be possible to give you direc-
tions how to make a paper shell-boat for two rowers. The job
would call for heavy and costly apparatus, and some of the proc-
esses are so difficult and intricate that only trained workmen could
carry them out.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: While we were in the south of England this
last summer, my brother Ernest found the nest of a harvest-mouse.
It is a round hollow ball, about as large as a big base-ball, and is
made of fine shreds of grass woven into a kind of shell. The door-
way is elastic, and after the mouse has gone in or out, almost closes
of itself. The nest is not on the ground, but it hung upon a stout
wheat-stalk about half-way up.
It is wonderful how the tiny mouse can make such a home and
place it so high above the ground. The little creature is about two
and a half inches in length. What a cozy swaying cradle the nest
must be to the baby-mice!-Yours truly, ALICE K.

MARTHA J. L. sends these two Zululand stories to the Letter-
Box ":
A SNAKE STORY,-General Clifford, who was Lord Chelmsford's
second in command in the latest Zulu war, was once in the act of sit-
ting down on the ground. Placing one hand beneath him, to ease
himself down, he felt something clammy to e touch, and found, to
his horror, that it was a most venomous reptile,-the puff adder.
With wonderful presence of mind, he firmly held his hand down so
that the snake could not move, and with his other hand he drew from
his pocket his clasp-knife. This he opened with his teeth, and then
he coolly severed the snake's head from its body.
A TIGER STORn.-Bishop Schreder, a Norwegian, for a long time
missionary in Zululand, was at length driven out of that country by
King Cetywayo. Many years ago he had a curious encounter with
a large panther.
They met face to face on the side of a hill. The panther prepared
to leap upon the man, and he, being unarmed, did his best to receive
him. The missionary aimed for the tongue of the panther, and was
so fortunate as to secure it just as the panther dug his claws into his
shoulder. Then began a wrestling match. The Norwegian, noted
for his great size and strength, was a surprise to the panther. The
bishop saw a young sapling, and put his foot_ :.. t -i a
good hold on the side of the hill. Suddenly .- I. jI, I. lff,

and away went missionary and panther in a warm embrace, rolling
down the hill, one over the other by turns. When they reached the
bottom, they let go of each other. The panther turned and walked
off in one direction and the missionary in the opposite direction.
They never met again. Bishop Schreder suffered for many weeks
from the wounds received, but at last happily recovered to doctor
irany a wounded Zulu.

ETTA M. GOODWIN.-The cross of the Legion of Honor is formed
of ten points of white enamel edged with gold the points are con-
nected with a wreath of laurel, which is placed behind them. In the
center of the cross, within a blue circle bearing an inscription, is a
symbolical head. To the upper two points of the cross, a crown is
attached, and through a ring in the top of this passes the ribbons with
which the decoration is worn.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS Yesterday, I heard a gentleman, who has a
large store, say that he never does important business on a Friday,
nor will he begin a lawsuit, or sign valuable papers, or even send out
a traveling salesman, on that day. And another gentleman, whom I
know, will not open his mail, nor send offletters, on a Friday. Both
these gentlemen are smart, and not foolish in other things, and I can-
not see why they act in this curious way.
Sailors will not begin a voyage on Friday, my brother says; they
think that, if they should, they would be sure to have foul weather,
and perhaps a wreck.
Now, why should these people think Friday an "unlucky" day?
Can you of your readers tell me, in the Letter-Box" ?-
M. R. T.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have a true story to tell you about three
little kittens; not the ones who "lost their mittens, all on a shelf so
high," but about three kittens who lost their mother before they were
old enough to take care of themselves, which I think was much sad-
derti.. -. ;. .: ..; .... don'tyou?
I *II- I"**. i, happened. One morning, puss left her kit-
tens fast asleep in their nest, under the stable, and went into the yard
to hunt something for her breakfast. While quietly eating a piece of
meat, a neighbor's son, caring only for sport, shot her dead.
The baby kittens awoke, and cried a long time, but as their mother
did not come, they were very hungry, and found their way into the
chicken-yard, where they sniffed about, crying piteously. There
was an old hen with seven little chicks in the yard, and around her
the kittens played, after having made their dinner of corn-meal, with
the chickens. The hen seemed well satisfied to have them about her,
for at night she gathered them under her wings with her chickens,
and always afterward treated them as if they belonged to her.
The kitties grew, and the chickies grew, but still they staid to-
gether, night and day, in barrel, coop, or wherever the hen chose to
take her brood.
One night, my father put hen and chickens into a box, which he
hung high up on the bare stable wall, so as to keep them from the
rats. In the morning, when he took them down from their high
perch, behold! there were the kittens, all three nestling under the
hen, as snugly as the chickens themselves.
They grew together to be large cats and chickens, perfectly har-
monious and happy. COUSIN JENNIE."

Des Moines, Iowa.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Here is something curious which I have
learned. The Egyptians had ways of marking numbers even earlier
than the Arabians, from whom we get the shape of our numerals. But


the Arabic notation is only the Eg i. r:... i: 1 .. .. ,
may see from this sketch, in which e: . ...... i i ..... ... -,.
part of the last character in the row. This character merely contains
all the rest, and I do not think it stands for anything-Truly yours,
B. F. G.

TABBY.-If your cat with blue eyes is white all over without a
speck of color, she probably is deaf, and that would account for her
never answering to a call excepting when she sees you.
Some people think that all white cats with blue eyes are deaf.
Whether this is always true or not, cannot be known, but it is certain
that there once was a white, blue-eyed Persian cat which was stone
deaf; and that all those of her kittens which were white and had
blue eyes were deaf, while all those which had any color at all on
their fur could hear perfectly well.



Worms on the Rhine, Germany.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You asked in your July number if any of
your readers had been in Westminster Abbey. I have been there
and have seen the tomb of Catharine, beloved daughter of Henry I l.
and his Queen Eleanor. We also went to St. Paul's Cathedral, and I
remembered what you told us in the January number about the Chil-
dren's Day at St. Paul's. I am ten years old. I am living now in
Worms with my Mamma and cousin. When your July number came
it seemed like a friend from home.--From your reader, M. H. H.

0, INDIAN PIPES, a-springing up,
Under the pine-trees' shade,
So -srlmint7 white and strange you seem,
.. I am afraid!

Growing o'er "happy hunting-grounds,"
Whose chieftains brave are gone;
On land where the wigwam rose of old
You now are left alone!
Perchance, you 're but the risen ghosts
Of pipes they used to smoke,
In peaceful times, when no warrior's cry
The woodland echoes woke.
However it be, I only know
That here you live and grow,
The likeness of those Indian Pipes
They smoked so long ago. c. A. D.

Washington, D. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Mamie E. W. asks in your magazine of
August for a quiet game. Tell hr to ask her papa to buy her a
microscope. My papa has one, and he shows me every day some-
thing wonderful. Sometimes it is a drop of water in which grass has
been soaking, and I see in it lots and lots of tiny animals darting

about, as if they thought they were as big and important as real
fishes. Sometimes he shows me a drop of vinegar, and I can see
things like eels squirming in it. Sometimes he puts a moth under,
and shows me his tongue curved round and round like a rope; and
the moth is covered all over with feathers, and it has a beautiful fringe
all round its wings, and its eyes are like blackberries; and papa rays
that what I call its eyes are five thousand eyes all close together.
And the colors of these moths are just like the rainbow. Their
tongues are just like elephants', only a great deal larger in proportion.
-I am yours truly, TOM J. CURTIS.

W.-Good works on Optics are: "Light"; by Mayer and Bar-
nard, published by D. Appleton & Co.; which gives an illustrated
series of cheap experiments from which a great deal can be learned:
and The Wonders of Optics," an interesting book published by
Charles Scribner's Sons, and containing many illustrations and

Brooklyn, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have just found out something that may
interest the other readers of the Letter-Box." It is that the whole
of Manhattan Island, on which New York City is built, was bought
from Indian chiefs I. --. r D .,,..1 .., ,... .. rhe year 1626,
and that the price JI .. ... -, .. :. buttons and
trinkets, worth about ...' ... i 1 i 1.... i 'ie rise in the
price of real estate since that time! Why, twenty-four dollars would
hardly buy a square yard of the island now.-Truly yours,
H. M. M.

Baker City, Oregon.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In your August number, in the front, is a
picture and a piece of poetry about the Kaiserblumen. Will you
please tell me what the botanical name of the flower is ?-Yours truly,
J. F.
The botanical name of the "Kaiserblume" is Centaurea," a
genus of the order Asteraces. Its common names are:. Cornflower,
Blue-bonnet, Blue-bottle, Blue-weed, and Bachelor's Button. Its
flowers are some of one color, some of other colors.


I AM a kind of raft or float, and my name is spelled with nine let-
My 5, 8, 9, an animal, herds and guards my 7, 6, 5, also an animal;
and pets and keeps my i, 2, 3, another animal, for the sake of being
rid of my 7, 4, 3, also an animal. H. H. D.

i. IN ape. 2. A name for a girl. 3. A minute animalcule. 4. A
marine bird. 5. A means of measuring. 6. The name
given to a small cube, or to a stamp. 7. In onyx. ISOLA.


My first is in pear, but not in fruit,
My second in trees, but not in root, I
My third is in poison, but not in sting;
And my whole is a very dangerous thing. L. P.. w.

YOUNG Thomas is poor, but very neat in his appearance.
He wishes to wear two shirts a week, but desires to buy as
few shirts as possible. What is the smallest number he need
buy, so as to put on a clean shirt every Sunday and Wed-
Iesday, his washing and ironing being done on Mondays
and Tuesdays? BEATRICE.

die, and leave an imitator. 4. Behead and curtail a pleasure vehicle,
and leave an interjection of regret. 5. Behead and curtail to speak
languidly, and leave bleak. 6. Behead and curtail a country-seat,
and leave unwell, w. F. W.

EvERv other letter is omitted: A-O---A-G-O-A-A-I-IK-O
--B--I-D--S. A. H. W.


I S-

r I I> r- 1?T

.F-'ss -er a e v tao.

iroim -naKespeare s Play, Henry VIII.
i. BEHEAD and curtail the central portion of a winding staircase, MY whole, spelled with seven letters, is a Turkish dagger. My 4,
and leave a sheep. 2. Behead and curtail a secret store, and leave an 7, 6, 2 is an insect. My 5, 3 is an exclamation of surprise.
instrument used by fishermen. 3. Behead and curtail a kind of can- K. E. E.


X879.) THE RIDDLE-BOX. 847

WORD SYNCOPATIONS. of-- 4. While plucking fruit frorh the - the lively pickers
joked and laughed; and witticism, -, and epigram were the order
x. TAKE an abbreviated military title from a favorite beverage, and of the hour 5. There was room for the whole picnic party under
leave a noted American lawyer. 2. Take a vowel from a canal, and the wide-spreading branches. n.
leave a texture of rushes. 3. Take a pain from stretched, and leave a
color. 4. Take a decree from susceptible of touch, and leave a plate SEVEN-LETTER ENIGMA.
of baked clay. 5. Take a kind of liquor from a male servant, and
leave the abbreviated name of a State. 6. Takean island from to lead A YOUNG lady writes from Baden Baden: Dear Uncle 5, 4, 3:
astray, and leave furious. UNCLE WILL. We are well. We left 2, 3, 4, 5, 1 two days ago, and are having a
pleasant time at this i, 2, 3. 2, 3 has bought
VERY EASY REBUS. me a fine 4, 5, 6, 7 and a diamond 2, 5, 6, and
promises, before we return to America, to take
1i 5, 6. There I shall see
.. -' ... 1 i which have so long been
nothing but 3, 5, 4. Oh, I could i, 5, 6, 7
f '*'- with delight! Do not take 2, ,5, 6, to reply,
as I cannot give you a sure address. Your
,-'" dutiful niece 5, 6, 3. P. S. You can fill up the
S" numbered 7, 3, 2, i in my letter, by taking
.0' -. 1, letters from a word meaning what my bounte-
ilk I- .-- .. II- ous 2, 3, and liberal uncle 5, 4,3 are not. L.

l, _---, ,

: I

I L: 1

'-' .- '-" ", --. ** - -

,,, ,, ,. ." -


Find the names of nine birds represented in the picti

F. -r:t 1 ; en, spell five words each containing all
oftr l I .. the words can be read off from the dia-
gram without skipping a letter, by taking the proper letter to begin
with. H. H. D.

a b
c d
e b c
fg d
k i h c
EACH letter represents a numeral, and the whole is a problem in
.il. -.. .'ri .. .i.ed in full. Find the numerals employed.
Li i.:.. ...... r .. I .i.. describe the process followed in solving
the problem. A + B.
THE words, of which the letters are transposed in this puzzle, are
the names of trees. In each sentence, the single blank is to be filled
with the name ofa tree, and the letters of this name, when.re-arranged,
are to be used to fill the other blank, or blanks, in such a way as to
complete the sense.
i. I do not like the color of the beech - as that of the- .
2. The sordid woodman little that the ancient must come
down. 3. I saw her-- to herself, as she was walking under a row

T, A YOUNG human being. 2. What dull
people seldom have. 3. A plant that grows in
watcr. 4. Young human beings.


i. A BAND, and a border, a. Part of a
gun, and two-thirds of obtain. 3. A com-
mand for silence, and a tool. 4. A dish, a
member, and to go wrong. 5. An animal, a
:.; to plunder. 6. A luminary, a
S.. and a beverage. 7. A fluid,
and trial. 8. A parent, a beam, and the
name of a musical note. 9. A vegetable, a
boy's name, and two-thirds of damp, ro.
A consonant, and a stream. r. To straighten
up, and hired out. T2. A fondling, a knot,
and a place for herding sheep, 13. A mem-
ber, a dog, and the principal. 14. Pipes. 15.
Be careful, and to fetter. 16. To give a
smart blow, and the noise made by a con-
tented pet. 17. An extremity, and to fondle.
18. A headland. 1g. Skaters. LE BARON.


I.-- A fixed period of time, from which dates are computed. a.
The title of a Turkish governor. 3. The water-willow. 4. At a low
price. 5. A fabulous winged monster.
II.-. An uncultivated tract. 2. To permit. 3. A gentle hill. 4.
A person of confirmed drinking habits. 5 Large pitchers.

MY first is in cat, but not in dog.
My next is in vapor, and also in fog,
My third is in long, but not in short;
My fourth is in stronghold, not in fort;
My fifth is in visage, but not in face;
And my whole may be found by a fire-place.


BEHEADED, the horizontals are; i. Poor habitations. 2. Articles
used in writing. 3. Short times spent in sleep. 4. Torn places. 5.
Behind time.
Prefix a letter to each word and obtain a perfect rhomboid, of which
the horizontal's are: 1. Closes. 2. Opposite of closes. 3. Sudden
bites. 4 Voyages. 5. Flushed with success.
The perpendiculars are: i. A consonant. 2. An exclamation. 3.
Elevations of prosperity. 4. A movable shelter. 5. A trap. 6.
Four-fifths of a word meaning to pour out. 7. A general name for
mineral springs. 8. An abbreviation. 9. A vowel. H. H. D.


SIN each of the following sentences find a city, and the river on
Which it is situated.
S. j The sabre slaughters in a mode really fearful,
S 2 In order to destroy the owls, we shot them, and they fell with
'soft thuds on the ground.
S, I 3. From Erie to Cincinnati, Bertha traveled by rail.
.k i "0, Ma! Has Jane told you? The cream is sour; I cannot
Papa rises occasionally to look at these ineffectual attempts.
6. Show some pluck, now, or the whole gang escapes !
h1' 7. He asked me to row him to the pirate's polucca. I rose and
refused; and then I left the place. L. R. B. and j. IH. H.


d-~ A.

,. THE lines of the Rhomboid, reading across in order as they come,
S. spell words meaning: i. A banquet. 2. To negotiate. 3. Formerly,
I' th e cover of a council table; the French word for carpet. 4. Fur-
.-I (lnished with tines. 5. Manufactured metal.
SReading down, beginning at the left, the columns ofthe Rhomboid
are: I. In effaceable. 2. A Latin conjunction frequently used in
,-P. T..l 1. ..,,,position. 3. Skill. 4. Situation. 5. Carpeting. 6. Hue.
S .. 11 8. A prefix. 9. Fifty.
'I 'I The concealed diamond, indicated in the diagram by stars, reads
Sthe same downward and across: I. In tent. 2. Devour. 3. Tapes-
try. 4. A metal. 5. In side. N. T. M.

^Bv A ENIGMA.-" Casa Guidi Windows."
Q i, PICTORIAL ANAGRAMS.-Amazon, Ohio, Utah, Asia.
/4 FOUR EASY WORD-SQUARES.-I. I. Care; 2. Area; 3. Rear; 4.
." .. Ears. II. I. Seas; 2. Etna; 3. Anil; 4. Salt. III. i. Head; 2.
.. Ezra; 3. Army; 4. Days. IV. i. Lore; 2. Opal; 3. Rack; 4.
S Elks. -- EN IGMA.-Utrecht.
BE LLO W S First Stanza: Fetter, better, letter,
B EE EvE getter, setter. Second Stanza:
-D N Butter,flutter, gutter, mutter, stut-
N .ter, sputter. Third Stanza: Mat-
,' N O R ter, batter, patter, scatter, flatter,
C A R E D latter, tatter, hatter. Fourth Stan-
.l P A R A B L E za: Brush,flush,tush, hush,mush,
gush,crush,rush. Fifth Stanza: Broom, Doom,loom, doom,room, tomb,
~-. EASY DIAMOND.-i. R. 2. NEd. 3. ReBus. 4. DUn. 5. S.
,* PICTORIAL QUOTATION.-" Villain and he are many miles asun-
'" .der."- EASY METAGRAM.-Clash.
S- REBUS.-Many men of many minds. _
SMany birds of many kinds.
: 'Many fishes in the sea.
.c r .$ ', t ..i Many men who can't agree.
SARITHMETICAL KITE.-The product of each line is 5040.
'- ---. R. 2. Hip. 3. NaPes. 4. TEn.
". f i'. 5\,, "- 9 8 5. R .

1 8 9 Isis; 7. Iris; 8. Isle. Tire: '"Alpson
S2. Idyl: 3. Ibis; 4. Iron; 5. Idol; 6.
Alps arise"; Pope. Inner Circles; I.
-- --7 2 6 3 4 5 7 Tryand you will soon find itall. II.
-,r .i .- Oh, do be sure to discover this all.
6 2 DOUBLE ACRosTIC.-i. MiniM: 2.
6 AriA; 3. CaustiC; 4. DraB; 5. UsagE;
JI1 5 3 6. TooT; 7. FritH.
\i 4 4 mal lui tourne."
4. bela. 2. Lepanto. 3. Valmy. 4. Agin-
3 3 court.
FLORAL ENIGMA.-Heliotrope.
THE above picture represents a rhymed couplet Madeira.

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE AUGUST NUMBER were received before August o2, from O. C. Turner, and "Henry and Charles,"
all of whose solutions were correct; and from Clara L. Calhoun and Lucy A. Barbour-Kitty C. Atwater and Bessie Campbell-K. S.
Tiffs--J. H. M. Wells-O. G. Victor-Ella T. Dargue-C. A. C.-Bessie Taylor-Lancelot Minon-Lizzie H. D. St. Vram-Susie H.
Olmstead-Nellie C. Emerson-M. G. A.-Lulu Mather-Romulus and Remus-Frank S. Brown-Bessie R. Neilson-Jennie Mondscein
-Florence Wilcox-A. W. Stockett-Mary Catlin Phelps-Eloisee Hersh-and Bessie Hard.
O. C. T. and C. A. C. point out two errors in the August RIDDLE-Box; but nearly all the answerers correctly solved the puzzles in which
the mistakes occurred.