Front Cover
 Front Matter
 An adventure of an egg-var
 The happy bud
 Jack and Jill
 The farmer who became drum-maj...
 A dead city
 Childhood's gold
 What happened to Janan
 The bell-buoy
 The "dear little deer"
 Spring time
 The major's big talk stories
 How Bo-Peep's sheep were found
 Easter in Rome
 Kitty's mother
 Napoleon and the young Egyptia...
 The game of kite-cutting
 St. George and the dragon
 A burial at sea
 Among the lakes
 Ned's stilts
 Naughty Jack
 Bye, baby, bye! (music and...
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: St. Nicholas.
Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 7, no. 6. April 1880.
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00085
 Material Information
Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 7, no. 6. April 1880.
Series Title: St. Nicholas.
Uniform Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 7, no. 6
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: April 1880
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals.
Literature for Children
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
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00085
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

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    An adventure of an egg-var
        Page 441
        Page 442
        Page 443
        Page 444
    The happy bud
        Page 445
    Jack and Jill
        Page 446
        Page 447
        Page 448
        Page 449
        Page 450
        Page 451
        Page 452
        Page 453
        Page 454
        Page 455
    The farmer who became drum-major
        Page 456
        Page 457
    A dead city
        Page 458
        Page 459
        Page 460
        Page 461
        Page 462
    Childhood's gold
        Page 463
    What happened to Janan
        Page 464
        Page 465
        Page 466
        Page 467
        Page 468
    The bell-buoy
        Page 469
        Page 470
    The "dear little deer"
        Page 471
        Page 472
        Page 473
    Spring time
        Page 474
        Page 475
    The major's big talk stories
        Page 476
    How Bo-Peep's sheep were found
        Page 477
        Page 478
        Page 479
    Easter in Rome
        Page 480
        Page 481
        Page 482
    Kitty's mother
        Page 483
        Page 484
        Page 485
    Napoleon and the young Egyptian
        Page 486
        Page 487
        Page 488
        Page 489
    The game of kite-cutting
        Page 490
        Page 491
        Page 492
        Page 493
    St. George and the dragon
        Page 494
        Page 495
        Page 496
        Page 497
    A burial at sea
        Page 498
    Among the lakes
        Page 499
        Page 500
        Page 501
        Page 502
        Page 503
        Page 504
        Page 505
        Page 506
        Page 507
        Page 508
        Page 509
        Page 510
        Page 511
    Ned's stilts
        Page 512
        Page 514
        Page 515
    Naughty Jack
        Page 513
    Bye, baby, bye! (music and words)
        Page 516
    The letter-box
        Page 517
        Page 518
    The riddle-box
        Page 519
        Page 520
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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[See Page 498.]






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APRIL, 1880.

[Copyright, 1880, by Scribner & Co.]



JAN lived with his father, Christoph Jansen, his
good mother, Ilse, and his wee sister Ilse, her
mother's namesake, in a little hut on the southern
coast of Iceland.
This hut would have looked very odd to the boys
and girls of New England. It was built of layers
of stones, up three or four feet from the ground,
with turf between the layers to keep out the cold.
Then above this was a sloping roof of wood covered
with turf, which, in these long sunny days of June,
had sprouted up thick with grass, making it re-
semble a green hillock more than a human dwell-
ing. And, indeed, their only ewe-a present to
little Ilse from her Uncle Gotthard, who lived
inland and owned flocks of sheep and cows-
would often climb the family mansion, and, cling-
ing with her sharp hoofs to the turf, nibble a
breakfast with much contentment.
Christoph Jansen was a fisherman, and spent
the greater part of his time in his boat, setting
fishing nets, or gathering in quantities of haddock
and cod-fish, and preparing them to dry on the
beach. And he constantly hadto keep a sharp eye
over his game, for if left unwatched, the pilfering
ravens, not unfrequently, would come in large
flocks and devour whole catches" at once.
But the business from which the fisherman de-
rived most profit was from his egg-var. And first
I must explain to some of you just what an egg-
var is.
All along the west coast of Norway and the
southern coast of Iceland there are numerous
islands, some of them situated at a considerable
distance from the main-land, but others within a
bow-shot of it. These islands are of two kinds,
VOL. VII.-30.

many of them being nothing more than high
masses of rock, while others are flat, or nearly so.
The former are called hohne, the latter var.
Upon these vir the eider-ducks congregate in
large numbers for laying eggs and rearing their
young; for when nesting on the main-land they are
much disturbed by the cunning Arctic fox, who is
as great an epicure in his cold, northern haunts as
is the red fox in New England. It would not be
unreasonable to suppose that his appetite, from the
colder climate in which he lives, would be consid-
erably the keener,-and the young eiders, or the
rich eggs which he deftly cracks with a stroke
of his paw, make one of the daintiest meals Rey-
nard can procure.
Yet Nature teaches the defenseless bird that she
can, at least, protect herself against this one of her
many enemies by nesting in places impossible for
him to reach.
The high price set upon the feathers of the
eider-duck renders these islands very valuable, and
they have been in the possession of Icelandic and
Danish families for many generations.
More than twenty-five years ago, Iceland ex-
ported between four and five thousand pounds of
eider-down in a single year, and as great care has
been taken to promote an increase of the supply,
the amount sold has probably more than doubled
since then. The true down" is worth from three
to four dollars per pound, and it is said that
enough down for a bed coverlet would not weigh
more than a pound and a half.
The laws of the country are very strict in rela-
tion to the ownership of the islands, and the
poacher, if caught, is punished with a fine of thirty


No. 6.


dollars, for the seizure of a single duck. Even
an egg cannot be stolen with impunity.
But the vir-owners have other poachers to deal
with, for whom the law has no terrors,-the raven
and the great sea-eagle. These birds of prey make
sad havoc among the young eiders, in spite of the
vigilance used in protecting them,-the eagle
sometimes even carrying off the old ducks'them-
Christoph Jansen's vair was but a short distance
from the main-land, and was looked after entirely
by the fisherman's wife and Jan, now eleven years
"Now be off, good Jan, for it is getting late,"
said Mother Jansen, as the boy was about to set
off to the vir one evening early in June, and be
quite sure, my son, not to disturb the old eiders,
and do not forget to cut the notches," she added.
'"Let little Ilse go too, mother," pleaded Jan,
who did not like always going alone.
"Nai, nai," returned Mrs. Jansen, "Ilse is but
a wee thing; she would stumble over the rocks.
And have ye forgot the raven that perched on the
gable only yesterday? I fear, Jan, he boded us
ill! and she gazed solemnly at the tiny, blue-
eyed fairy .i. i.. ;I i a string of blown egg-shells,
then away across the dancing waves, whither
Christoph had been gone since early dawn to fish.
" However," she added, seeing Jan's disappoint-
ment, thou art a careful boy, my Jan, and, since
I must go to the beach to help your father when
he comes in, she may go with you. But mind and
let nothing befall her; lead her carefully over the
"Ja ja / jeg vil!" (Yes! yes! I will!) cried
the delighted boy; and, attired in an eider-skin
jacket and scarlet cloth hood, baby Ilse went laugh-
ing and skipping toward where the boat was drawn
up on the rocky beach, Jan following, with the
basket and big bag on his arm.
Lifting little Ilse into the boat, Jan rowed across
the narrow strip of water separating the island from
the main-land.
The sun was yet high, although it was nearly
eight o'clock in the evening, and as they ap-
proached the island they floated amid whole flocks
of the eider drakes, shining white in the sunlight,
plunging and flapping, and sending the spray
sparkling high in the air.
Now, Ilse," said Jan, after tying his boat to a
stone, cling to my back and I '11 be your pony,"
and climbing the path that wound over and about
the ridge of low lava cliffs which ran through the

length of the island, he went galloping across the
flat on the farther side.
Ah here was a sight fit to set any Yankee boy's
heart fluttering! The very ground was covered
with ducks, each on its own nest; and it would
have been difficult to walk about without treading
upon their great brown backs; for the birds were
very tame and would not stir at Jan's approach,
and would even allow him to take the eggs and
down from the nests without seeming in the least
Hitherto, they had given the boy much trouble
in laying about in any spot they chose and in places
where the eggs frequently were broken, and where
the down was matted and spoiled with the yolks of
the broken eggs.
To remedy the evil, he had set himself to work
before the laying season began, and with good-sized
stones had built little inclosures, about a foot and
a half square and one foot high, on the southern,
or most sheltered, part of the island. He then had
gathered moss from a bog a little back from the
shore, on the main-land, and boating it across to
the island, had filled these squares half full with
the moss, and formed it into shapely nests.
The ducks had taken to them wonderfully,.
though some of the younger and more timid ones.
would still crawl far into the crevices between the
rocks, where it was impossible to get the down and
eggs without the assistance of a "hook," which
Jan always carried with him-a pole three or four
feet long with a curved iron at the end.
The method of obtaining the eggs and down,
though profitable, would seem to you very cruel.
It is this: After lining her nest with the soft down
from her body, the eider-duck lays from five to
seven greenish-brown eggs. No sooner are they
laid than she is taken from her nest and its con-
tents confiscated. Again the duck plucks her down
to line the nest anew, and continues laying-this
time not more than two or three eggs.- But her
peace is soon disturbed, and she is once more left
with an empty nest.
By this time the down on her own body has
become nearly or quite exhausted, and she calls
upon her mate to assist, which he does, plucking
his breast amidst loud quackings at the cruelty and
injustice of the whole thing.
Now, indeed, the eider must be left to lay the
remaining eggs, and pursue her maternal instincts
in quiet, for if the nest should again be disturbed,
it would be abandoned by the discouraged pair
for a spot on some 6ther island.

In the Northern, or Scandinavian, mythology, the raven was consecrated to the god Odin, who, as Icelandic tradition relates, had
two ravens, which he loosed every morning, bidding them go abroa i .. i .'...; i -..- i what was going on, even at the farthest corner
of the earth. On returning at night, they wo.1 i 1. upon his I-. I.. I -. the news into his ears. Hugin was the name
given to one, Mumin to the other, the former -. i... Spirit, the latter Memory. And now, many of the Icelanders believe that ravens
m general understand what is passing at a distance, and events which are to occur in the future; and if a raven happens to perch upon
the house-top, the people think that the death or ill-fortune of some member of the family is sure to follow.




Jan went from nest to nest removing the ducks,
and filling'his basket and bag, carefully notching
the stake of dwarf birch (Betula nana) which
was driven down beside each nest to indicate the
number of times it had been rifled; for the older
ducks begin to lay earlier in the season than the


...^ .-~

.4 f

I e




younger ones, and so the owner
of the egg-vir has to know the
history of each nest.
As his load grew heavier and more difficult to
carry, he sat little Ilse upon a large, flat, lava rock,
bidding her not to get down while he went his
rounds to the farther end of the island, where the
shyer ducks, disdaining all his attempts to tame
them, and lure them to comfortable homes, had
crept into some large crevices, depositing their
eggs and down far beyond the reach of Jan's arm.



Scarcely had he dragged the eggs out with his
hook and laid them in the basket, and stuffed the
down into the bag,-which, though almost as
light as air, assumed enormous proportions,
and was as / elastic as a rubber ball,-when
suddenlyhe p; heard a great outcry from the
ducks, and saw them
all rise from their
nests and go flapping,
hissing, and quacking
Toward the water, beneath
which they all plunged in a
great t tumult, crying and splashing.
The next moment a huge sea-
,-agle, circling low over the island,
-*vooped down toward the red-
iooded baby on the rock.
Dropping basket and bag, Jan
in toward them, swinging his hook
and shouting wildly.
Clutching the little girl's clothes
with his talons, the eagle succeeded
in dragging her off the rock, and
was now flapping laboriously as if
to carry her toward the beach.
Her piteous cries of "Jan!
Oh, Jan were muffled by
the broad wings of the eagle.
/ As Jan came close up to
them, he dashed his hook
at the fierce-looking bird,
which loosed its hold, and
lightly lifting itself a few
feet, soared so closely above
his head, that Jan could
Shear its great
-' beak snap close
beside his ear.
Seizing little
Ilse's arm, the
boy made off
with her over
the difficult
S ground, stopping every few steps
to beat off the eagle, now wrath-
fully diving and flapping upon
his head, and almost stunning him with the blows
of its powerful wings.
Jan's only thought was for Ilse. The eagle's
sharp talons pierced through his jacket at every
swoop, but he staggered bravely on, hoping to
get over the cliffs to the boat and in sight of
"Gaae skynidepa, Ise gaae skyndepa !" (run
faster, Ilse run faster!) cried Jan, striving in vain
to keep the angry bird at bay with his hook.
"Jeg kan ikke, god Jan / (I can't, good Jan)


panted the little girl, and Jan hastily lifted her
in his arms.
Contesting every step, he had nearly gained the

." -r --
.. .

crest of the ridge when the buffetings of the savage
bird upon his head became so furious and bewil-
dering that Jan was forced to stop.
Exhausted, but still brave and determined, he
stood Ilse beside him, and grasping the hook
with both hands, set upon the eagle desperately.
Back and forth he stumbled over the rocks,
beating at the bird, which, lightly rising and falling,
adroitly eluded the attack, till at last, as it swooped
down toward him, he gave it a hard blow directly
under the left wing.
It was effectual. The sharp hook clung fast,

and in the sudden short struggle which followed,
both boy and bird tumbled to the foot of the cliff
on which they had been battling.
Poor, brave Jan! He was now, indeed, van-
quished as well as his enemy, and could not reply
to Ilse's entreaties to come up to her.
After a time the child slid down the path to
where he lay, and, conscious that something terri-
ble had happened to him, began to pat his face and
hands, and call between her sobs, "Tale Ilse, Jan!
Tale Ilse!" (speak to Ilse, Jan Speak to Ilse !).
It was late when Christoph and mother Ilse
returned from the "drying ground," and, not find-
ing the children at the hut, they were filled with
alarm. Taking his boat, Christoph hastily set
off to the island, and before long he came upon
them; Ilse, exhausted with crying, lying asleep on
the unconscious boy's neck. Her yellow locks and
white down jacket were stained with the blood from
an-ugly wound on Jan's head, cut by the sharp lava
rocks upon which he had fallen.
But Jan did not die.. Between mother Ilse's
careful nursing and the ministrations of the kind
old priest, living not far away, he was, after many
weeks, able to sit in the now waning sunlight and
amuse baby Ilse; but it was too late for the egg-
vir again that year.
I must not forget to mention that, at Jan's re-
quest, his father carried the skin of the sea-
eagle to Reykjavik, where he went to dispose of
his year's stock of fish and down, and sold it for
seven rix dollars to an English naturalist at that
port. The eagle probably spreads its wings to-
day in some London museum.

..... ......... K... c .. N

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SA BUD droops low on a
She does not know what
i'J So she waits, and longs,
\L',. And sings the song that I

"I am so small,
And the world so w
I' The trees are so ta
SiThat whisper and c
By the brooklet's si.
That I could not se
'\ Should I open my
. 1 -, The sunny lea,
i 'Or the waters free,
Or the beautiful ski

i." So foolish I seem,
And the world so w
'. That I cannot drear
What flower will gle
S When I greet the sl

I -, But though I 'm so
And the world is so
Though the trees ar
'"',' That whisper and ca
S' ,i-'. By the brooklet's sid

I '11 do
S t-" To be
And I
lFor a
Till I

+ rl'.., .

' ". 0 happy bud
"i "Filled with th
.Well may sh
As she sings

-^ -

my best
sweet and bri
'll work and
worthy fate,
find the light.



grassy lea,-
her fate will be;
and sips the dew,
sing to you:





e so tall



on the grassy lea!
.e beauty that is to be;
e trust to the sun and dew,
the song that I sing to you.









LOOK here, old man, we ought to have a meet-
ing. Holidays are over, and we must brace up
and attend to business," said Frank to Gus, as
they strolled out of the school-yard one afternoon
in January, apparently absorbed in conversation,
but in reality waiting for a blue cloud and a scarlet
feather to appear on the steps.
"All right. When, where, and what?" asked
Gus, who was a man of few words.
To-night, our house, subject, Shall girls go
to college with us?' Mother said we had better
be making up our minds, because every one is

talking about it, and we shall have to be on one
side or the other, so we may as well settle it now,"
answered Frank, for there was an impression
among the members that all vexed questions would
be much helped by the united eloquence and wis-
dom of the club.
Very good; I '11 pass the word and be there.
Hullo, Neddy! The D. C. meets to-night, at
Minot's, seven sharp. Co-ed, etc.," added Gus,
losing no time, as a third boy came briskly round
the corner, with a little bag in his hand.
"I'11 come. Got home an hour earlier to-night,
and thought I 'd look you up as I went by," re-
sponded Ed Devlin, as he took possession of the
third post, with a glance toward the school-house

*Copyright, 1879, by Louisa M. Alcott. All rights reserved.




I'' '


to see if a seal-skin cap, with a long, yellow braid
depending therefrom, was anywhere in sight.
Very good of you, I 'm sure," said Gus, iron-
ically, not a bit deceived by this polite attention.
The longest way round is sometimes the short-
est way home, hey, Ed?" and Frank gave him
a playful poke that nearly sent him off his perch.
Then they all laughed at some joke of their own,
and Gus added: No girls coming to hear us to-
night. Don't think it, my son."
"More's the pity," and Ed shook his head
regretfully over the downfall of his hopes.
Can't help it; the other fellows say they spoil
the fun, so we have to give in, sometimes, for the
sake of peace and quietness. Don't mind having
them a bit myself," said Frank, in such a tone of
cheerful resignation that they laughed again, for
the Triangle," as the three chums were called,
always made merry music.
We must have a game party next week. The
girls like that, and so do I," candidly observed
Gus, whose pleasant parlors were the scene of
many such frolics.
"And so do your sisters and your cousins and
your aunts," hummed Ed, for Gus was often called
Admiral because he really did possess three sisters,
two cousins, and four aunts, besides mother and
grandmother, all living in the big house together.
The boys promptly joined in the popular chorus,
and other voices all about the yard took it up, for
the "Pinafore" epidemic raged fearfully in Har-
mony Village that winter.
How 's business?" asked Gus, when the song
ended, for Ed had not returned to school in the
autumn, but had gone into a store in the city.
Dull; things will look up toward Spring, they
say. I get on well enough, but I miss you fellows
dreadfully," and Ed put a hand on the broad
shoulder of each friend, as if he longed to be a
school-boy again.
Better give it up and go to college with me
next year," said Frank, who was preparing for
Boston University, while Gus fitted for Harvard.
No; I've chosen business, and I mean to stick
to it, so don't you unsettle my mind. Have you
practiced that March ?" asked Ed, turning to a
gayer' subject, for he had his little troubles, but
always looked on the bright side of things.
Skating is so good, I don't get much time.
Come early and we 'll have a turn at it."
I will. Must run home now."
Pretty cold loafing here."
Mail is in by this time."
And with these artless excuses the three boys
leaped off the posts, as if one spring moved them,
as a group of girls came chattering down the path.
The blue cloud floated away beside Frank, the

scarlet feather marched off with the Admiral, while
the fur cap nodded to the gray hat as two happy
faces smiled at each other.
The same thing often happened, for twice a-day
the streets were full of young couples walking to and
from school together, smiled at by the elders, and
laughed at by the less susceptible boys and girls,
who went alone or trooped along in noisy groups.
The prudent mothers had tried to stop this guile-
less custom, but found it very difficult, as the fathers
usually sympathized with their sons, and dismissed
the matter with the comfortable phrase: "Never
mind; boys will be boys." "Not forever," re-
turned the anxious mammas, seeing the tall lads
daily grow more manly, and the pretty daughters
fast learning to look demure when certain names
were mentioned.
It could not be stopped without great parental
sternness and the danger of deceit, for co-educa-
tion will go on outside of school if not inside, and
the safest way is to let sentiment and study go
hand in hand, with teachers and parents to direct
and explain the great lesson all are the better for
learning soon or late. So the elders had to give
in, acknowledging that this sudden readiness to go
to school was a comfort, that the new sort of gentle
emulation worked wonders in lazy girls and boys,
and that watching these "primrose friendships"
bud, blossom and die painless deaths, gave a little
touch of romance to their own work-a-day lives.
On the whole I 'd rather have my sons walk-
ing, playing and studying with bright, well-man-
nered girls, than always knocking about with rough
boys," said Mrs. Minot at one of the Mothers'
Meetings, where the good ladies met to talk over
their children, and help one another to do their
duty by them.
I find that Gus is more gentle with his sisters
since Juliet took him in hand, for he wants to stand
well with her, and they report him if he troubles
them. I really see no harm in the little friendship,
though I never had any such when I was a girl,"
said Mrs. Burton, who adored her one boy and was
his confidante.
"My Merry seems to be contented with her
brothers so far, but I should n't wonder if I had my
hands full by and by," added Mrs. Grant: who
already foresaw that her sweet little daughter would
be sought after as soon as she should lengthen her
skirts and turn up her bonny brown hair.
Molly Loo had no mother to say a word for her,
but she settled matters for herself by holding fast
to Merry, and declaring that she would have no
escort but faithful Boo.
It is necessary to dwell a moment upon this new
amusement, because it was not peculiar to Har-
mony Village, but appears everywhere as naturally




as the game parties and croquet which have taken
the place of the husking frolics and apple bees of
olden times, and it is impossible to dodge the sub-
ject if one attempts to write of boys and girls as
they really are nowadays.
Here, my hero, see how you like this. If it
suits, you will be ready to march as soon as the
doctor gives the word," said Ralph, coming into
the Bird-Room that evening with a neat little crutch
under his arm.
Ha, ha, that looks fine I 'd like to try it
right off, but I wont till I get leave. Did you make
it yourself, Ral?" asked Jack, handling it with de-
light, as he sat bolt upright, with his leg on a rest,
for he was getting on capitally now.
Mostly. Rather a neat job, I flatter myself."
"I should say so. What a clever fellow you are !
Any new inventions lately?" asked Frank, coming
up to examine and admire.
Only an anti-snoring machine and an elbow-
pad," answered Ralph, with a twinkle in his eye,
as if reminded of something funny.
Go on, and tell about them. I never heard of
an anti-snorer. Jack better have one," said Frank,
interested at once.
"Well, a rich old lady kept her family awake
with that lively music, so she sent to Shirtman and
Codleff for something to stop it. They thought it
was a good joke, and told me to see what I could
do. I thought it over, and got up the nicest little
affair you ever saw. It went over the mouth, and
had a tube to fit the ear, so when the lady snored
she woke herself up and stopped it. It suited ex-
actly. I think of taking out a patent," concluded
Ralph, joining in the boys' laugh at the droll idea.
"What was the pad?" asked Frank, returning
to the small model of an engine he was making.
Oh, that was a mere trifle for a man who had
a tender elbow-joint and wanted something to pro-
tect it. I made a little pad to fit on, and his crazy-
bone was safe."
I planned to have you make me a new leg if
this one was spoilt," said Jack, sure that his friend
could invent anything under the sun.
I 'd do my best for you. I made a hand for a
fellow once, and that got me my place, you know,"
answered Ralph, who thought little of such me-
chanical trifles, and longed to be painting portraits
or modeling busts, being an artist as well as an
Here Gus, Ed, and several other boys came in,
and the conversation became general. Grif, Chick
and Brickbat were three young gentlemen whose
own respectable names were usually ignored, and
they cheerfully answered to these nicknames.
As the clock struck seven, Frank, who ruled the
club with a rod of iron, when Chairman, took his

place behind the study table. Seats stood about it,
and a large, shabby book lay before Gus, who was
Secretary, and kept the records with a lavish ex-
penditure of ink, to judge by the blots. The mem-
bers took their seats, and nearly all tilted back
their chairs and put their hands in their pockets,
to keep them out of mischief, for, as every one
knows, it is impossible for two lads to be near each
other and refrain from tickling or pinching.
Frank gave three raps with an old croquet-mallet
set on a short handle, and with much dignity
opened the meeting.
Gentlemen, the business of the club will be
attended to, and then we will discuss the question,
'Shall girls go to our colleges?' The secretary
will now read the report of the last meeting."
Clearing his throat, Gus read the following brief
and elegant report:
"Club met, December x8th, at the house of G. Burton, Esq. Sub-
ject: 'Is summer or winter best fun.' A lively pow-wow. About
evenly divided. J. Flint fined five cents for disrespect to the Chair.
A collection of forty cents taken up to pay for breaking a pane of
glass during a free fight of the members on the door-step. E. Devlin
was chosen secretary for the coming year, and a new book contributed
by the chairman."
That 's all."
Is there any other business before the meet-
ing?" asked Frank, as the reader closed the old
book with a slam and shoved the new one across
the table.
Ed rose, and glancing about him with an appeal-
ing look, said, as if sure his proposition would not
be well received: I wish to propose the name of
a new member. Bob Walker wants to join, and
I think we ought to let him. He is trying to
behave well, and I am sure we could help him.
Can't we?"
All the boys looked sober, and Joe, otherwise
Brickbat, said, bluntly: I wont. He's a bad lot,
and we don't want any such here. Let him go
with chaps of his own sort."
"That is just what I want to keep him from!
He 's a good-hearted boy enough, only, no one
looks after him, so he gets into scrapes, as we should
if we were in his place, I dare say. He wants to
come here, and would be so proud if he was let in, I
know he 'd behave. Come now, let 's give him a
chance," and Ed looked at Gus and Frank, sure
that if they stood by him he should carry his point.
But Gus shook his head, as if doubtful of the
wisdom of the plan, and Frank said gravely:
"You know we made the rule that the number
should never be over eight, and we cannot break it."
You need n't. I can't be here half the time,
so I will resign and let Bob have my place," began
Ed, but he was silenced by shouts of, "No, no,
you shan't!" We wont let you off!" "Club
would go to smash, if you back out "




"Let him have my place; I 'm the youngest,
and you wont miss me," cried Jack, bound to
stand by Ed at all costs.
We might do that," said Frank, who did object
to small boys, though willing to admit this par-
ticular one.
Better make a new rule to have ten members,
and admit both Bob and Tom Grant," said Ralph,

all turn our backs on him, so he loafs 'round the
tavern, and goes with fellows we don't care to know.
But he is n't bad yet, and we can keep him up,
I 'm sure, if we just try. I hope to get him into
the Lodge, and that will be half the battle, wont it,
Frank?" added Ed, sure that this suggestion
would have weight with the honorable Chairman.
"Bring him along; I 'm with you !" answered

il ii ,iI'I'~; i



whereat Grif grinned and Joe scowled, for one lad
liked Merry's big brother and the other did not.
That's a good idea! Put it to vote," said
Gus, too kind-hearted to shut the door on any one.
First, I want to ask if all you fellows are ready
to stand by Bob, out of the club as well as in, for
it wont do much good to be kind to him here
and cut him at school and in the street," said Ed,
heartily in earnest about the matter.
I will cried Jack, ready to follow where his
beloved friend led, and the others nodded, unwill-
ing to be outdone by the youngest member.
"Good! With all of us to lend a hand, we
can do a great deal; and I tell you, boys, it is
time, if we want to keep poor Bob straight. We

Frank, making up his mind at once, for -he had
joined the Temperance Lodge four years ago, and
already six boys had followed his example.
He is learning to smoke, but we '11 make him
drop it before it leads to worse. You can help
him there, Admiral, if you only will," added Ed,
giving a grateful look at one friend, and turning
to the other.
"I 'm your man and Gus looked as if he
knew what he promised, for he had given up
smoking to oblige his father, and kept his word
like a hero.
You other fellows can do a good deal by just
being kind and not twitting him with old scrapes,
and I '11 do anything I can for you all to pay for




this," and Ed sat down with a beaming smile, feel-
ing that his cause was won.
The vote was taken, and all hands went up, for
even surly Joe gave in; so Bob and Tom were
duly elected, and proved their gratitude for the
honor done them by becoming worthy members
of the club. It was only boys' play now, but the
kind heart and pure instincts of one lad showed
the others how to lend a helping hand to a com-
rade in danger, and win him away from temptation
to the safer pastimes of their more guarded lives.
Well pleased with themselves,-for every genu-
ine act or word, no matter how trifling it seems,
leaves a sweet and strengthening influence behind,
-the members settled down to the debate, which
was never very long, and often only an excuse for
fun of all sorts.
Ralph, Gus and Ed are for, and Brickbat,
Grif and Chick against, I suppose?" said Frank,
surveying his company like a general preparing
for battle.
No, sir I believe in co-everything !" cried
Chick, a mild youth, who loyally escorted a chosen
damsel home from school every day.
A laugh greeted this bold declaration, and
Chick sat down, red but firm.
"I '11 speak for two, since the Chairman can't,
and Jack wont go against those who pet him most
to death," said Joe, who, not being a favorite with
the girls, considered them a nuisance, and lost no
opportunity of telling them so.
Fire away, then, since you are up!" com-
manded Frank.
"Well," began Joe, feeling too late how much
he had undertaken, "I don't know a great deal
about it, and I don't care, but I do not believe in
having girls at college. They don't belong there,
nobody wants 'em, and they 'd better be at home
darning their stockings."
"Yours, too," put in Ralph, who had heard
that argument so often he was tired of it.
Of course; that's what girls are for. I don't
mind 'em at school, but I 'd just as soon they had
a room to themselves. We should get on better."
You would if Mabel was n't in your class and
always ahead of you," observed Ed, whose friend
was a fine scholar, and he very proud of the fact.
Look here; if you fellows keep interrupting, I
wont sit down for half an hour," said Joe, well
knowing that eloquence was not his gift, but bound
to have his say out.
Deep silence reigned, for that threat quelled the
most impatient member, and Joe prosed on, using
all the arguments he had ever heard, and paying
off several old scores by sly hits of a personal
nature, as older orators often do.
It is clear to my mind that boys would get on

better without any girls fooling 'round. As for their
being as smart as we are, it is all nonsense, for some
of 'em cry over their lessons every day, or go home
with headaches, or get mad and scold all recess,
because something 'is n't fair.' No, sir; girls
aint meant to know much, and they can't. Wise
folks say so, and I believe them. Have n't got any
sisters myself, and I don't want any, for they don't
seem to amount to much, according to those who
do have 'em."
Groans from Gus and Ed greeted the closing
remarks of the ungallant Joe, who sat down, feel-
ing that he had made somebody squirm. Up
jumped Grif, the delight of whose life was practi-
cal jokes, which amiable weakness made him the
terror of the girls, though they had no other fault
to find with the merry lad.
"Mr. Chairman, the ground I take is this: girls
have not the strength to go to college with us.
They could n't row a race, go on a lark, or take
care of themselves, as we do. They are all well
enough at home, and I like them at parties, but for
real fun and go I would n't give a cent for them,"
began Grif, whose views of a collegiate life were
confined to the enjoyments rather than the studies
of that festive period. "I have tried them, and
they can't stand anything. They scream if you tell
them there is a mouse in the room, and run if they
see a big dog. I just put a cockroach in Molly's
desk one day, and when she opened it she jumped
as if she was shot."
So did the gentlemen of the club, for at that
moment half-a-dozen fire-crackers exploded under
the chair Grif had left, and flew wildly about
the room. Order was with difficulty restored, the
mischievous party summarily chastised and com-
manded to hold his tongue, under penalty of eject-
ment from the room if he spoke again. Firmly
grasping that red.and unruly member, Grif com-
posed himself to listen, with his nose in the air and
his eyes shining like black beads.
Ed was always the peace-maker, and now, when
he rose with his engaging smile, his voice fell like
oil upon the troubled waters, and his bright face
was full of the becoming bashfulness which afflicts
youths of seventeen when touching upon such sub-
jects of newly acquired interest as girls and their
pleasant but perplexing ways.
It seems to me we have hardly considered the
matter enough to be able to say much. But I think
that school would be awfully dry and dismal with-
out-ahem !-any young ladies to make it nice. I
would n't give a pin to go if there was only a crowd
of fellows, though I like a good game as well as
any man. I pity any boy who has no sisters,"
continued Ed, warming up as he thought of his
own, who loved him dearly, as well they might, for




a better brother never lived. Home would n't
be worth having without them to look after a fel-
low, to keep him out of scrapes, help him with his
lessons, and make things jolly for his friends. I
tell you we can't do without girls, and I 'm not
ashamed to say that I think the more we see of
them, and try to be like them in many ways, the
better men we shall be by and by."
"Hear! hear!" cried Frank, in his deepest
tone, for he heartily agreed to that, having talked
the matter over with his mother, and received much
light upon things which should always be set right
in young heads and hearts. And who can do this
so wisely and well as mothers, if they only will ?
Feeling that his sentiments had been approved,
and he need not be ashamed of the honest color in
his cheeks, Ed sat down amid the applause of his
side, especially of Jack, who pounded so vigorously
with his crutch that Mrs. Pecq popped in her head
to see if anything was wanted.
No, thank you, ma'am, we were only cheering
Ed," said Gus, now upon his legs, and rather at a
loss what to say till Mrs. Pecq's appearance sug-
gested an idea, and he seized upon it.
My honored friend has spoken so well that I
have.little to add. I agree with him, and if you
want an example of what girls can do, why, look at
Jill. She 's young, I know, but a first rate scholar
for her age. As for pluck, she is as brave as a boy,
and almost as smart at running, rowing, and so
on. Of course, she can't play ball,-no girl can;
their arms are not made right to throw,-but she
can catch remarkably well. I 'II say that for her.
Now, if she and Mabel-and-and-some others I
could name, are so clever and strong at the begin-
ning, I don't see why they should n't keep up and
go along with us all through. I 'm willing, and
will do what I can to help other fellows' sisters as
I 'd like to have them help mine. And I '11 punch
their heads if they don't," and Gus subsided, as-
sured, by a burst of applause, that his manly way
of stating the case met with general approval.
We shall be happy to hear from our senior
member if he will honor us with a few remarks,"
said Frank, with a bow to Ralph.
No one ever knew whom he would choose to
personate, for he never spake in his own character.
Now he rose slowly, put one hand in his bosom,
and fixing his eye sternly on Grif, who was doing
something suspicious with a pin, gave them a
touch of Sergeant Buzfuz, from the Pickwick trial,
thinking that the debate was not likely to throw
much light on the subject under discussion. In
the midst of this appeal to "Me lud and gentle-
men of the jury," he suddenly paused, smoothed
his hair down upon his forehead, rolled up his
eyes, and folding his hands, droned out Mr.

Chadband's sermon on peace, delivered over poor
Jo, and ending with the famous lines:
Oh, running stream of sparkling joy,
To be a glorious human boy."
Then setting his hair erect with one comprehen-
sive sweep, he caught up his coat-skirts over his
arm, and, assuming a parliamentary attitude, burst
into a comical medley, composed of extracts from
Jefferson Brick's and Lafayette Kettle's speeches,
and Elijah Pogram's Defiance, from Martin Chuz-
zlewit." Gazing at Gus, who was convulsed with
suppressed merriment, he thundered forth:
In the name of our common country, sir, in
the name of that righteous cause in which we are
joined, and in the name of the star-spangled ban-
ner, I thank you for your eloquent and categorical
remarks. You, sir, are a model of a man fresh
from Natur's mould. A true-born child of this free
hemisphere. Verdant as the Mountains of our
land; bright and flowin' as our mineral Licks;
unspiled by fashion, as air our boundless perearers.
Rough you may be; so air our Barrs. Wild you
may be; so air our Buffalers. But, sir, you air a
Child of Freedom, and your proud answer to the
Tyrant is, that your bright home is in the Settin'
Sun. And, sir, if any man denies this fact, though
it be the British Lion himself, I defy him. Let me
have him here! "-smiting the table, and causing
the ink-stand to skip,-" here, upon this sacred
altar. Here, upon the ancestral ashes cemented
with the glorious blood poured out like water on
the plains of Oshkosh. Alone I dare that Lion, and
tell him that Freedom's hand once twisted in his
mane, he rolls a corse before me, and the Barra-
boo Eagles of the Great Republic scream, Ha, ha!"
By this time the boys were rolling about in fits
of laughter; even sober Frank was red and breath-
less, and Jack lay back, feebly squealing, as he
could laugh no more. In a moment, Ralph was as
meek as a Quaker, and sat looking about him with
a mildly astonished air, as if inquiring the cause of
such unseemly mirth. A knock at the door pro-
duced a lull, and in came a maid with apples.
Time 's up; fall to and make yourselves com-
fortable," was the summary way in which the club
was released from its sterner duties, and permitted
to unbend its mighty mind for a social half hour,
chiefly devoted to whist, with an Indian war-dance
as a closing ceremony.

WHILE Jack was hopping gayly about on his
crutches, poor Jill was feeling the effects of her
second fall, and instead of sitting up, as she hoped
to do after six weeks of rest, she was ordered to lie




on a board for two hours each day. Not an easy
penance, by any means, for the board was very
hard, and she could do nothing while she lay
there, as it did not slope enough to permit her to
read without great fatigue of both eyes and hands.
So the little martyr spent her first hour of trial in
sobbing, the second in singing, for just as her
mother and Mrs. Minot were deciding in despair
that neither she nor they could bear it, Jill sud-
denly broke out into a merry chorus she used to
hear her father sing:
"Faut jouer le. mirliton,
Faut jouer le mirlitir,
Faut jouer le mirliter,
The sound of the brave little voice was very
comforting to the two mothers hovering about her,
and Jack said, with a look of mingled pity and
admiration, as he brandished his crutch over the
imaginary foes:
"That's right! Sing away, and we 'll play
you are an Indian captive being tormented by
your enemies, and too proud to complain. I '11
watch the clock, and the minute time is up I '11
rush in and rescue you."
Jill laughed, but the fancy pleased her, and she
straightened herself out under the gay afghan,
while she sang, in a plaintive voice, another little
French song her father taught her:
J'avais une colombe blanche,
J'avais un blanc petit pigeon,
Tous deux volaient, de branch en branche,
Jusqu' au faite de mon dongeon:
Mais comme un coup de vent d'automne,
S'est abattu 1I, I'epervier,
Et ma colombe si mignonne
Ne revient plus au colombier."
"My poor Jean had a fine voice, and always
hoped the child would take after him. It would
break his heart to see her lying there trying to
cheer her pain with the songs he used to sing her
to sleep with," said Mrs. Pecq, sadly.
She really has a great deal of talent, and when
she is able she shall have some lessons, for music
is a comfort and a pleasure, sick or well," answered
Mrs. Minot, who had often admired the fresh
voice, with its pretty accent.
Here Jill began the Canadian boat-song, with
great vigor, as if bound to play her part of Indian
victim with spirit, and not disgrace herself by any
more crying. All knew the air, and joined in,
especially Jack, who came out strong on the
"Row, brothers, row," but ended in a squeak on
a high note, so drolly, that the rest broke down.
So the hour that began with tears ended with
music and laughter, and a new pleasure to think
of for the future.
After that day Jill exerted all her fortitude, for

she liked to have the boys call her brave, and
admire the cheerful way in which she endured two
hours of discomfort. She found she could use her
zither as it lay upon her breast, and every day the
pretty music began at a certain hour, and all in
the house soon learned to love and listen for it.
Even the old cook set open her kitchen door,
saying pitifully: "Poor darlint, hear how purty she's
singin', wid the pain, on that crewel boord. It's
a little saint she is. May her bed above be aisy !"
Frank would lift her gently on and off, with a
kind word that comforted her immensely, and
gentle Ed would come and teach her new bits of
music, while the other fellows were frolicking
below. Ralph added his share to her amusement,
for he asked leave to model her head in clay, and
set up his work in a corner, coming to pat, scrape,
and mold whenever he had a spare minute, amus-
ing her by his lively chat, and showing her how to
shape birds, rabbits, and queer faces in the soft
clay, when the songs were all sung and her fingers
tired of the zither.
The girls sympathized very heartily with her
new trial, and brought all manner of gifts to cheer
her captivity. Merry and Molly made a gay
screen by pasting pictures on the black cambric
which covered the folding frame that stood before
her to keep the draughts from her as she lay on
her board. Bright birds and flowers, figures and
animals covered'one side, and on the other they
put mottoes, bits of poetry, anecdotes, and short
stories, so that Jill could lie and look or read with-
out the trouble of holding a book. It was not all
done at once, but grew slowly, and was a source
of instruction as well as amusement to them all,
as they read carefully, that they might make good
But the thing that pleased Jill most was some-
thing Jack did, for he gave up going to school,
and stayed at home nearly a fortnight after he
might have gone, all for her sake. The day the
doctor said he might try it if he would be very
careful, he was in great spirits, and limped about
looking up his books, and planning how he would
astonish his mates by the rapidity of his recovery.
When he sat down to rest, he remembered Jill,
who had been lying quietly behind the screen,
while he talked gayly with his mother, busy put-
ting fresh covers on the books.
She is so still I guess she is asleep," thought
Jack, peeping round the corner.
No, not asleep, but lying with her eyes fixed on
the sunny window, beyond which the bright win-
ter world sparkled after a fresh snow-fall. The
jingle of sleigh-bells could be heard, the laughter
of boys and girls on their way to school, all the
pleasant stir of a new day of happy work and play





for the rest of the world, more lonely, quiet, and
wearisome than ever to her since her friend and
fellow-prisoner was set free and going to leave her.
Jack understood that patient, wistful look, and,
without a word, went back to his seat, staring at
the fire so soberly, that his mother presently
asked: What are you thinking of so busily, with
that pucker in your forehead? "
I 've about made up my mind that I wont go

D JILL. 453

go to school till the first of February?" called
Jack, laughing to himself at the absurdity of the
Not much! answered a glad voice from be-
hind the screen, and he knew the sorrowful eyes
were shining with delight, though he could not
see them.
Well, I guess I may as well, and get quite
firm on my legs before I start. Another week or


to school just yet," answered Jack, slowly lifting
his head, for it cost him something to give up the
long-expected pleasure.
Why not?" and Mrs. Minot looked much sur-
prised, till Jack pointed to the screen, and making
a sad face to express Jill's anguish, answered in a
cheerful tone: "Well, I'm not sure that it is best.
Doctor did not want me to go, but said I might
because I teased. I shall be sure to come to grief,
and then every one will say, 'I told you so,' and
that is so provoking. I 'd rather keep still a week
longer. Had n't I better?"
His mother smiled, and nodded as she said,
sewing away at much-abused old Caesar, as if she
loved him: Do as you think best, dear. I always
want you at home, but I don't wonder you are
rather tired of it after this long confinement."
I say, Jill, should I be in your way if I did n't

so will bring me up if I study hard, so I shall not
lose my time. I '11 tackle my Latin as soon as it's
ready, mother."
Jack got a hearty kiss with the neatly covered
book, and mamma loved him for the little sacrifice
more than if he had won a prize at school. He
did get a reward, for, in five minutes from the time
he decided, Jill was singing like a bobolink, and
such a medley of merry music came from behind
the screen, that it was a regular morning concert.
She did not know then that he stayed for her sake,
but she found it out soon after, and when the time
came did as much for him, as we shall see.
It proved a wise decision, for the last part of
January was so stormy Jack could not have gone
half the time. So, while the snow drifted, and
bitter winds raged, he sat snugly at home amusing
Jill, and getting on bravely with his lessons, for


Frank took great pains with him to show his
approbation of the little kindness, and, somehow,
the memory of it seemed to make even the de-
tested Latin easier.
February First, fair weather set in, and Jack
marched happily away to school, with Jill's new
mittens on his hands, mamma nodding from the
door-step, and Frank ready to give him a lift on the
new sled, if the way proved too long or too rough.
I shall not have time to miss him now, for we
are to be very busy getting ready for the Twenty-
second. The Dramatic Club meets to-night, and
would like to come here, if they may, so I can
help?" said Jill, as Mrs. Minot came up, expecting
to find her rather low in her mind.
Certainly; and I have a basket of old finery
I looked up for the club when I was rummaging
out bits of silk for your blue quilt," answered
the good lady, who had set up a new employment
to beguile the hours of Jack's absence.
When the girls arrived, that evening, they found
Mrs. Chairwoman surrounded by a "strew of the-
atrical properties, enjoying herself very much.
All brought such contributions as they could
muster, and all were eager about a certain tableau
which was to be the gem of the whole, they
thought. Jill, of course, was not expected to
take any part, but her taste was good, so all con-
sulted her as they showed their old silks, laces,
and flowers, asking who should be this, and who
that. All wanted to be the Sleeping Beauty," for
that was the chosen scene, with the slumbering
court about the princess, and the prince in the act
of awakening her. Jack was to be the hero, brave
in his mother's velvet cape, red boots, and a real
sword, while the other boys were to have parts of
more or less splendor.
Mabel should be the 'Beauty,' because her
hair is so lovely," said Juliet, who was quite satis-
fied with her own part of the Queen."
"No, Merry ought to have it, as she is the
prettiest, and has that splendid veil to wear,"
answered Molly, who was to be the maid of honor
cuffing the little page, Boo.
I don't care a bit, but my feather would be
fine for the Princess,' and I don't know as Emma
would like to have me lend it to any one else,"
said Annette, waving a long white plume over her
head, with girlish delight in its grace.
I should think the white silk dress, the veil,
and the feather ought to go together, with the
scarlet crape shawl and these pearls. That would
be sweet, and just what princesses really wear,"
advised Jill, who was stringing a quantity of old
Roman pearls.
We all want to wear the nice things, so let us
draw lots. Would n't that be the fairest way ? "

asked Merry, looking like a rosy little bride, under
a great piece of illusion, which had done duty in
many plays.
The 'Prince is light, so the 'Princess' must
be darkish. We ought to choose the girl who
will look best, as it is a picture. I heard Miss
Delano say so, when the ladies got up the tab-
leaux, last winter, and every one wanted to be
'Cleopatra,' said Jill, decidedly.
"You choose, and then if we can't agree we
will draw lots," proposed Susy, who, being plain,
knew there was little hope of her getting a chance
in any other way.
So all stood in a row, and Jill, from her sofa,
surveyed them critically, feeling that the one Jack
would really prefer was not among the number.
"I choose that one, for Juliet wants to be 'Queen,'
Molly would make faces, and the others are too big
or too light," pronounced Jill, pointing to Merry,
who looked pleased, while Mabel's face darkened,
and Susy gave a disdainful sniff.
You 'd better draw lots, and then there will
be no fuss. Ju and I are out of the fight, but you
three can try, and let this settle the matter," said
Molly, handing Jill a long strip of paper.
All agreed to let it be so, and when the bits
were ready drew in turn. This time fate was evi-
dently on Merry's side, and no one grumbled
when she showed the longest paper.
Go and dress, then come back, and we '11 plan
how we are to be placed before we call up the
boys," commanded Jill, who was manager, since
she could be nothing else.
The girls retired to the bedroom and began to
"rig up," as they called it; but discontent still
lurked among them, and showed itself in sharp
words, envious looks, and disobliging acts.
"Am I to have the white silk and the feather?"
asked Merry, delighted with the silvery shimmer
of the one and the graceful droop of the other,
though both were rather shabby.
You can use your own dress. I don't see why
you should have everything," answered Susy, who
was at the mirror, putting a wreath of scarlet flow-
ers on her red head, bound to be gay since she
could not be pretty.
I think I 'd better keep the plume, as I have
n't anything else that is nice, and I 'm afraid Em-
ma would n't like me to lend it," added Annette,
who was disappointed that Mabel was not to be the
' Beauty."
"I don't intend to act at all!" declared Mabel,
beginning to braid up her hair with a jerk, out of
humor with the whole affair.
"I think you are a set of cross, selfish girls to
back out and keep your nice things just because
you can't all have the best part. I 'm ashamed




of you !" scolded Molly, standing by Merry, who
was sadly surveying her mother's old purple silk,
which looked like brown in the evening.
"I 'm going to have Miss Delano's red brocade
for the Queen,' and I shall ask her for the yellow-
satin dress for Merry when I go to get mine, and
tell her how mean you are," said Juliet, frowning
under her gilt-paper crown as she swept about in a
red table-cloth for train till the brocade arrived.
Perhaps you 'd like to have Mabel cut her hair
off so Merry can have that, too ?" cried Susy, with
whom hair was a tender point.
Light hair is n't wanted, so Ju will have to
give hers, or you 'd better borrow Miss Bat's fris-
ette," added Mabel, with a scornful laugh.
I just wish Miss Bat was here to give you girls
a good shaking. Do let some one else have a
chance at the glass, you peacock !" exclaimed
Molly Loo, pushing Susy aside to arrange her own
blue turban, out of which she plucked the pink
pompon to give Merry.
"Don't quarrel about me. I shall do well
enough, and the scarlet shawl will hide my ugly
dress," said Merry, from the corner, where she sat
waiting for her turn at the mirror.
As she spoke of the shawl her eye went in search
of it, and something that she saw in the other room
put her own disappointment out of her head. Jill
lay there all alone, rather tired with the lively chat-
ter, and the effort it cost her not to repine at being
shut out from the great delight of dressing up and
acting. Her eyes were closed, her net was off, and
all the pretty black curls lay about her shoulders as
one hand idly pulled them out, while the other
rested on the red shawl, as if she loved its glowing
color and soft texture. She was humming to her-
self the little song of the dove and the donjon, and
something in the plaintive voice, the solitary figure,
went straight to Merry's gentle heart.
Poor Jilly can't have any of the fun," was the
first thought, then came a second that made Merry
start and smile, and in a minute whisper, so that
all but Jill could hear her: Girls, I 'm not going
to be the 'Princess.' But I 've thought of a splendid
one! "
Who ?" asked the rest, staring at one another,
much surprised by this sudden announcement.
Hush Speak low, or you will spoil it all.
Look in the Bird-Room, and tell me if that is n't a
prettier 'Princess' than I could make ?"
They all looked, but no one spoke, and Merry
added, with sweet eagerness: It is the only thing
poor Jill can be, and it would make her so happy,
Jack would like it, and it would please every one,
I know. Perhaps she will never walk again, so
we ought to be very good to her,,poor dear."
The last words, whispered with a little quiver in

the voice, settled the matter better than hours of
talking, for girls are tender-hearted creatures, and
not one of these but would have gladly given all
the pretty things she owned to see Jill dancing
about well and strong again. Like a ray of sun-
shine the kind thought touched and brightened
every face; envy, impatience, vanity and discon-
tent flew away like imps at the coming of the good
fairy, and with one accord they all cried:
It will be lovely; let us go and tell her! "
Forgetting their own adornment, out they
trooped after Merry, who ran to the sofa, saying,
with a smile, which was reflected in all the other
faces: "Jill, dear, we have chosen another 'Prin-
cess,' and I know you '11 like her."
Who is it? asked Jill, :-., r;.1iI opening her
eyes without the least suspicion of the truth.
I 'll show you ;" and taking the cherished veil
from her own head, Merry dropped it like a soft
cloud over Jill; Annette added the long plume,
Susy laid the white silk dress about her, while
Juliet and Mabel lifted the scarlet shawl to spread
it over the foot of the sofa, and Molly tore the last
ornament from her turban, a silver star, to shine
on Jill's breast. Then they all took hands and
danced round the couch, singing, as they laughed
at her astonishment: There she is! There she
is Princess Jill as fine as you please "
"Do you really mean it? But can I? Is it
fair? How sweet of you! Come here and let me
hug you all!" cried Jill, in a rapture at the sur-
prise, and the pretty way in which it was done.
The grand scene on the Twenty-second was very
fine, indeed; but the little tableau of that min-
ute was infinitely better, though no one saw it, as
Jill tried to gather them all in her arms, for that
nosegay of girlish faces was the sweeter because
each one had sacrificed her own little vanity to
please a friend, and her joy was reflected in the
eyes that sparkled round the happy "Princess."
Oh, you dear, kind things, to think of me and
give me all your best clothes I never shall forget
it, and I '11 do anything for you. Yes I '11 write
and ask Mrs. Piper to lend us her ermine cloak for
the king. See if I don't! "
Shrieks of delight hailed this noble offer, for no
one had dared to borrow the much-coveted mantle,
but all agreed that the old lady would not refuse
Jill. It was astonishing how smoothly everything
went after this, for each was eager to help, admire
and suggest, in the friendliest way; and when all
were dressed, the boys found a party of very gay
ladies waiting for them round the couch, where lay
the brightest little "Princess" ever seen.
Oh, Jack, I 'm to act Was n't it dear of the
girls to choose me ? Don't they look lovely? Are
n't you glad?" cried Jill, as the lads stared and




the lasses blushed and smiled, well pleased at the
frank admiration the boyish faces showed.
I guess I am! You are a set of trumps, and
we '11 give you a first-class spread after the play to
pay for it. Wont we, fellows?" answered Jack,
much gratified, and feeling that now he could act
his own part capitally.
We will. It was a handsome thing to do, and
we think well of you for it. Hey, Gus?" and Frahk
nodded approvingly at all, though he looked only
at Annette.
As king of this crowd, I call it to order," said
Gus, retiring to the throne, where Juliet sat laugh-
ing in her red table-cloth.
"We'll have The Fair One with Golden Locks'
next time; I promise you that," whispered Ed to
Mabel, whose shining hair streamed over her blue
dress like a mantle of gold-colored silk.
"Girls are pretty nice things, are n't they?

Kind of 'em to take Jill in. Don't Molly look fine
though?" and Grif's black eyes twinkled as he
planned to pin her skirts to Merry's at the first
Susy looks as gay as a feather-duster. I like
her. She never snubs a fellow," said Joe, much
impressed with the splendor of the court ladies.
The boys' costumes were not yet ready, but they
posed well, and all had a merry time, ending with
a game of blind-man's-buff, in which every one
caught the right person in the most singular way,
and all agreed as they went home in the moon-
light that it had been an unusually jolly meeting.
So the fairy play woke the sleeping beauty that
lies in all of us, and makes us lovely, when we
rouse it with a kiss of unselfish good-will, for,
though the girls did not know it then, they had
adorned themselves with pearls more precious than
the waxen ones they decked their Princess" in.

(To be continued.)

Peggy and ifeggy tell the story in tkeir oiwn way


OUR father worked upon a farm,
He wore a linen smock;
'T was gathered to a yoke on top,
And hung down like a frock.

Peggy: Oh, he was very meek,
And mother used to scold him,
Meggy: And he would always do
Exactly what we told him,-
Peggy: Ex-actly what we told him.

Meggy: His shoulders had a little stoop
Which mother tried to cure:
Peggy: She used to say his shambling walk
She scarcely could endure.

Meggy: But he played the fiddle well,
And sang on Sunday sweetly;
Peggy: He beat the time for all,
And knew the tune completely,-
Meggy: Yes, knew the tune com-pletely.

Peggy: When mother called, "Come, John!"
he came,
And smiling, chopped the wood;
Meggy: He drew the water, swept the path,
And helped her all he could.

Peggy: He used to romp with Meg and me,
Meggy: Yes, and with Polly Wentels,
Peggy: But oh, my sakes! That was before
He put on regimentals!
Meggy : Yes, put on regimentals!


.1-" i .

For, oh, a big militia-man,
One evening, after tea,
Came in and coaxed our father dear
To join his company.



Peggy :

Meggy :

. M&_


Peggy: For men were very scarce
That summer in our village,
Meggy And so they all prepared
They said for war and pillage.
Peggy: Just think for war and pillage!

Meggy : Well, after that he dropt the smock,
He stood up stiff and straight;
Peggy And when we called for wood and things,
We always had to wait.

Meggy: Still, he was rather meek,
And mother still could scold him;
Peggy: He nearly always did
Exactly what we told him,-
Meggy : Ex-actly what we told him.

Peggy :

Meggy :

Peggy .
Pe- I':
Peggy .

We used to run and hide away-
You did-not I, dear Peg !
Why, yes, you often did it, too,
Now don't deny it, Meg!

'-K _,.

S- -a

" -

But soon he had a big mustache,
He stalked about the farm;
He went to drill three times a week,
And could n't see the harm.

Peggy. At last he told our mother
A thing that did enrage her.
Meggy : Rid-dic-u-lus she said,
"For you to be drum-major!"
Peggy.: For him to be drum-major !

Meggy : He wore a splendid soldier coat,
He bore a mighty staff;
Peggy : But oh, he lost his gentle ways,
And would n't let us laugh.

i .' .: He grew so very fierce
He soon began to scold us,
Peggy : And then we had to do
Exactly what he told us!
Meggy : Ex-actly what he told us

Meggy : He scared us 'most to death,
He walked just like a lion;
P. : And when he coughed out loud
He set us both a-cryin'!
.1.. i: Yes, set us both a-cryin'!

Peggy .

Meggy :.

He would n't play, he would n't work,
The weeds grew rank and tall;
The pumpkins died: we did n't have
Thanksgiving Day at all.

Peggy The farm is spoiled. It is n't worth,
Ma says, a tinker's wager.
r1. Now was n't it a dreadful thing
For him to turn drum-major?
Both: A savage, awful, stark and stiff, ridic-
ulous drum-major!

VOL. VII.-31.








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LAST October a little American boy, named
Charley, with his mother and sister, lived for three
weeks at the foot of a mighty volcano, and just
beside a dead city, renowned all over the world for
the appalling manner in which it died.
They lived in a queer, rough little country inn,
such as young American readers who never have
been in Southern Europe can scarcely picture to
Just across the road from this little "hotel," as
it was called, and between it and the dread volcano,
whose smoke ever rises against the blue sky, while
at night its red glare illumines the darkness, was
the dead city. It is shut in from the road by high
embankments of earth, and is guarded day and
night by quite an army of men, lest some injury of
robbery or fire happen to the buildings. At one
place in this embankment is the gate of entrance,
where people pay two francs admission fee, and are
then escorted all over the city by one of the regular
guides in a white uniform. Nobody is allowed to
visit this city without a guide, except by permission
of the Director, at Naples. But Charley's mother
had this permission, and the three spent nearly all
their time wandering about and making pictures

among the shattered walls and overthrown columns
of buried and excavated Pompeii. It became in
time as familiar to them as their native city.
Eighteen hundred years ago, Pompeii was pros-
perous and beautiful, having been newly rebuilt after
an earthquake that had thrown down all the old,
time-stained buildings, and left room for the showy,
many-columned houses, with magnificent mosaic
pavements and brilliantly frescoed walls, that arose
speedily there. This city had been rebuilt not
more than sixteen years, and everything in it was
still bright and new, when the great calamity fell
upon it which makes it almost as much spoken of
to-day as it was spoken of nearly two thousand years
One summer afternoon, little children were mer-
rily at play around the beautiful fountains that
tinkled in every garden; mothers were busy with
needle-work in the cool shadow of the pillared
courts; slaves were preparing dinners in hundreds
of kitchens; men were in their offices or thronging
the public places; and the streets were filled with
gay and brilliant crowds running in and out of the
tempting shops, chatting with one another, coming
from the baths, hastening to give or take lessons


on the lute or lyre, to make visits or purchases,
just as people are doing in Broadway to-day. Sud-
denly, in the height of this gay scene, a storm arose.
It was a more 'I.I-.1II... storm than you can imag-
ine, for the darkness was that of the blackest night,
while not rain fell, but showers of red-hot stones,
and a deluge of blistering ashes. Horrible sulphur-
fumes burst forth from the earth and strangled
many people before they could escape, while an
awful thunderous roar, as if the heavens were being
rent asunder, beat and boomed over the doomed
city. This awful storm endured for three days and
three nights. When it ceased, there was no longer
any bright, beautiful city, there were no longer any)
laughing children, any happy mothers, and busy
crowds. Nothing was ,there, but a great piled-up
waste of black ashes and stones, with two thousand
dead people buried below.
For seventeen hundred years this city lay buried.
Ordinary earth gradually gathered over-the ashes,
grass grew there, shrubs, vines and lofty trees.

But it chanced, after seventeen hundred years,
that a peasant, in digging a well upon his farm,
dug straight down into a house where were many
beautiful statues and valuable utensils of bronze,
which were thus brought up again to the day.
This discovery created much excitement, and the
government officers at once caused excavations to
be made. The work has been going on ever since,
so that now about two-thirds of the city has been
brought to view, while one-third is still covered
with green fields and vegetable gardens,
When Charley first walked in Pompeii through
silent and deserted streets, in the shadow of gaping
and roofless walls, he was as hushed and quiet as
if in a church. Scarcely was he willing even to slip
over the mosaic thresholds, upon which is some-
times an inlaid bear, a dog, or a word of welcome.
" I don't like to go in. I should think the people
who lived here would object to our prying about,"
he said, when his mother sought the cause of
his unusual reserve. And then his mother knew


Houses were built upon it, farms were bought
and sold, cattle grazed and men plowed, sowed and
harvested for centuries, ignorant that many feet
below was a dead, beautiful city. It had been dead
so long that the world had quite forgotten that it
ever had lived,

that he felt what she did,-an impression of
nearness in time and sympathy of feeling with the
long, long dead inhabitants, a feeling which she
never had for the dead dwellers in the imperial
ruins of Rome,-even for those who lived much
nearer to our day than any who once walked the



Ill I ,1 I


streets of Pompeii, for in Rome one sees relics only
of great personages and rulers. In Pompeii we are
brought close to the life of people like ourselves.
They wandered about for hours, thinking and
speaking of the Pompeians as if they had died
only a year or two ago, and as if these beautiful
lower rooms, with perfectly preserved Mosaic floors
and still brilliant frescoes upon the walls, these bed-
rooms, these dining-rooms, these marble courts
with their unbroken pillars and dry fountains, had
but recently been in the use and service of their
owners. Charley entered the wine and oil shops,
and even dipped his hand into the immense jars,
sunk into the marble counters, which once held

peii,-and it was only necessary for him to know
that the old Pompeians were Pagans, to know that
they worshiped beautiful Venuses, Apollos, and a
whole imaginary world of imaginary deities. He
was a little puzzled when he saw the ruins in Pom-
peii of a temple to a goddess called Isis, with little
chambers still existing, where the cunning priests
pulled strings and spoke in disguised voices to
make the easily deceived people believe that the
goddess worked miracles. Isis was not a Greek
or Roman divinity, but one worshiped in far-off
Egypt, where were the pyramids and the sphinx,
and Charley could not understand why her temple
should be in Italy among the believers in other


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the oil and wine, but now were half full of rain-
water. He tried to read the painted advertisements
upon the street-wall, calling upon the people to
vote for some citizen who was running for office,
and he stood in the midst of a roofless but mag-
nificent temple, where heathen deities had fallen in
the universal ruin.
Do you see this table, dear? said his mother,
calling his attention to a marble table in one of
the dwellings, its curved legs sculptured with
snarling dogs. Can you realize that this table
has stood here since the story of Christ was new,
and people talked of the new religion perhaps
over this very table ?"
Charley had lived long enough in Italy to have
learned much about the gods of old Greece and
Rome,-that is, of old Italy and, of course, Porm-

gods; but when he had read Bulwer's story, The
Last Days of Pompeii," he understood that there
were many Egyptians,-merchants and sailors,-
who came sailing over the Mediterranean to Pom-
peii with the wealth of their land to sell, and that
they wished to worship their own goddess in this
foreign land, just as the Chinese in California build
their Joss-houses and worship their Joss within the
sound of church-bells.
In other rooms, he saw the prints in the wall
where human skeletons were found pressed into
the very stone. In the bakers' shops, he saw
standing yet large hand-mills, with which slaves
ground the wheat into flour. He saw, also, the
kitchens,-their walls almost always painted with
serpents, boars' heads, joints of meat, and vege-
tables,-where dinners were cooking when the




great darkness fell, and where were found, seven- had been dug out of the ashes, and also skele-
teen centuries afterward, charred roasts of meats, tons of horses, donkeys, cats, dogs, and fowls.

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perfect in shape, and blackened fruit and vege- long street leading away to Herculaneum-another
tables, which Charley saw afterward in the museum. and smaller town buried by the same volcanic crup-

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In this museum, besides household utensils and tion. In those days, it was the custom to bury the
jewelry, he saw skeletons of men and women that dead, not in single graves in consecrated cemeteries






as we do now, but to burn the bodies and gather the houses of the dead escaped. They stand yet,
the ashes into vases, which were then entombed, broken and defaced, upon each side of the Street
whole families together, in splendid marble sepul- of Tombs; and there, high up from the lava-paved

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chers by the public road-side. These tombs were
sometimes as large as houses, and Charley has seen
one near Rome large enough to have been used as
a fortress, and thus to have seen many battles,
although, originally, it was "only a woman's
grave." This Herculaneum road was called the
Street of Tombs, and the ashes of Pompeii's dead
had rested there for many years before Pompeii
was destroyed.
When the storm came, it fell here also. But

road, is a little sepulcher, empty and broken, with
a slab set into the rubble-work wall below it, which
tells that here was buried


"Lived twelve years said Charley, when his
mother translated the inscription for him. Just
three years longer than I have lived! Perhaps


he died two thousand years ago; but for all that
he seems to himself only twelve yet! "
Then he asked, thoughtfully: "What was
America like when this little Italian boy died ? "
A wide, lonely world toward the setting sun,

where only wild red-men and strange animals
roamed," answered his mother, "a beautiful, teem-
ing world of which no white man had ever dreamed,
and of which no white man would hear for cent-
uries upon centuries."



THEY need not go so far away,
Through heat and cold, to hunt for gold;
They might beside us sit or stray,-
Our hands are full as they can hold.

Gold? Gold is poured out of the sky
From rise of sun till day is done;
With falling leaves it flashes by;
In liquid gold the rivers run.

'T was scattered all the way from school,
In stars and bells down the dells:
We children gathered aprons full,
Where little Dandelion dwells.

And yellow Cowslip to our feet
Came, like a king, his hoard to bring;
And Columbine, with nod so sweet,
Shook gold upon our path,-.gay thing !

What goblet glistens with such wine
As the bee sups from buttercups?
What gold beads on the wet grass shine,
Sparkling to breezy downs and ups

Our homes are sweet upon the hills,
Where love is sure, and life is pure,
And sunshine every season fills:
How can a country child be poor?

No robber scares our midnight hours;
No coffers cold our treasures hold:
Dewdrops and sunbeams, stars and flowers,-
Gold 1 Gold I Who shares our childhood's gold?






HER name was really Jane Ann. But you
never would have known it; for every one who
called her by any name at all, called her Janan,
with a decided emphasis on the last syllable. So
much of an emphasis, indeed, that it might have
reminded a casual hearer of the "ca-nan, ca-nan"
of the farmers, with which they called home the
flocks of sheep scattered over the hills of the wild
region in which JanAn lived.
For her home was upon the western shore of
Lake Champlain,-not the southern portion of
it, where the little towns and villages stand not
many miles apart, and the green shores of Ver-
mont seem hardly more than a stone's throw away,
-but farther north, where the lake widens into a
broad expanse of blue, and where the Vermont
shores are so far distant, that nothing can be dis-
tinctly seen from the New York side, except the
great shining dome of Vermont University, at Bur-
lington, which serves as a land-mark for many
miles around.
The face of the country, at this point, is very
wild and broken. Great rocks, which in almost
any other place would be called mountains, but
which here are dwarfed by the neighboring
Adirondacks, rise abruptly from the water's edge.
The railroad, completed not long since, creeps
along a narrow road-bed, blasted from the side of
the cliffs, with the wall of rock, rising a hundred
feet above, on one side, and the water, dashing
against its foot, a hundred feet below, on the
other. This coast is covered with a stubby growth
of timber, mostly pine. Farther inland, a mile or
two, are well-cultivated, prosperous farms. But
the sparsely settled shore is inhabited by wood-
choppers or fishermen, who live a precarious, hand-
to-mouth sort of existence, in the midst of the
'wildness and beauty of scenery for which this
region is famous.
Janan's father, Peter Brown, belonged to this
class. He was an American by birth, and what
the country people round about called shif'less."
The mother bore very much the same character,
and consequently, the large family of tow-headed
children had learned to take care of themselves,
and to expect cold, hunger, and hard knocks.
There were seven of them, and Janan was the
fourth. Their home was a small, unpainted
house, which had grown gray with age. Originally
it had been surrounded by a fence, inclosing a
small garden patch, which had been cleared, but

had been only partly cultivated, as shown by its
few sickly corn-stalks and potato-tops; and the
fence had departed long ago,-probably because
it was easy to split into kindling wood,-and a
solitary fence post, here and there, was the only
sign to show that such a fence ever existed.
The house stood not far from the railroad track,
in a little valley, between high rocks. There were
two or three other houses of the same description
in the valley. Each one poured forth its group
of whooping, shouting children, who played, quar-
reled, and fought together, almost as ignorant and
wild as young savages. Sometimes the noise of
their brawlings would bring the mothers of the
respective families to the scene of the disturbance,
to punish or sympathize, as the case might be.
Sometimes they fought it out among themselves,
until the weaker yielded, after which there was
quiet, until some fresh,cause of trouble arose.
Janan took an active part in the public affairs of
the valley. And on the very morning upon which
our story opens, had been engaged in a battle
with the children of the neighbor who lived just
below, and the struggle had resulted disastrously to
herself. Enraged and furious, she finally sprang
from the others, dashed past her own door, not
heeding the call that came to her from within,
and began to climb the steep ledge, that rose high
above her. Janan was a good climber, and before
many minutes, reached the summit of the rock,
and threw herself down upon its flat surface, paus-
ing to take breath.
Before we go any further, I would like to de-
scribe her to you, as she looked that day. She
was thirteen years old, but small for her age. Her
features were irregular, but not unpleasant to look
upon. Her skin was tanned, until she was nearly
as dark as an Indian. Janan deemed a bonnet a
superfluity, and never wore one, except when she
went where such a covering was absolutely required.
The sun, while it had darkened her face, had pro-
duced a contrary effect upon her hair, and had
burnt and bleached it, until she really deserved the
name of "tow-head." Her clothing consisted of
little excepting a dress of faded calico. Her feet
were bare, and just now she was digging her
naked toes viciously into the dry moss at the edge
of the rock, where she had thrown herself down,
and was angrily soliloquizing:
"Them Pickenses aggervate me more 'n any-
thing I ever did see The chicken 's dead! The





one Lyddy giv' me to grow up and be an old hen. had some effect upon Janan; for she presently
That last stone Jim Pickens threw killed her raised her head, and looked about her. It was a
deader 'n-deader 'n anything. I hate 'em; I lovely day, in early June,-the most delightful
hate 'em all! I would n't lift my finger to help season in these latitudes, when Nature robes her-
one of 'em. And I never will i self in new and tender green. The lake spread
Here Janan paused, and looked down into the a broad, glittering expanse before her. Away to
valley, but all was quiet, so she went on again: the north, a white sail danced upon its blue.


.--- -- --- -_-_ f--i' L '


To think they should be so mean! That little
chicken! Never hurt one of 'em And 't was the
only thing I 've got that I reely cared for."
Janan's tears gushed forth, and she laid her face
down, talking angrily to herself and sobbing
between the words.
But neither sorrow nor anger can last forever,
and the sweet influence of the morning may have

Everything seemed so fresh,-so new,-the world
might have been made that very morning; and
Janan forgot her anger, and began talking to her-
self again, as she usually did, for lack of a better
How nice everything' looks this morning Yes,
everything' but me But I 'd like to look nice, too.
I 'd like to be somebody. How 'm I ever going' to



if I allus live here? So many of us, we can't have
nothing If I only looked different I could do some-
thin'. Strawberries are 'most ripe. I could pick
'em, and take 'em to the village to sell, I s'pose.
But who 'd buy berries of such a looking' cretur' as
me ?"-and Janan looked down at her faded dress
and brown hands, regretfully.
How 'm I ever going' to keep my dress looking'
any way, I wonder. Pete broke the handle off the
flat-iron last week, and how I 'm goin' to iron any-
thin', I don't know. I 'd like to learn something ,
too. I know how to read some, already. I know
what I 'd like to do, and I could do it, too, if I
only had some clothes. I'd like to go to the village,
and hire out to some lady to take care of her baby.
I could do that kind of work; I know I could.
But there what 's the use o' talking ? I can't get
clothes, and I can't go to the village, and I can't
go to school! I wish I could! I wish something'
would happen Nothin' ever happens to me."
Janan was fast giving way to her bad feelings
again, when she saw a carriage driving slowly up
the steep roadway, which wound around the foot
of the rocks below her, and yet some distance
above the railroad track.
Who can that be, I wonder, comin' along this
rough road? Must want something' pretty bad, to
come over this road for it. I know who 't is !"
she continued, as the carriage turned in such a
way that she could see two ladies occupying the
back seat. "It 's Miss Parker, the lady that gives
away so much. She 's allus ridin' round in queer
places, and givin' things to queer folks. I wish
she 'd give me something "
The carriage passed out of sight again, and just
then Janan spied her old enemies, the Pickens
family, who had come out upon the railroad track,
and were building miniature houses with sticks and
They 're allus playing' on the track Some
day something' '11 happen to 'em It 's most time
for the morning' express, too. Them Pickenses
allus hang round where they -'ve no biz'ness. I
wonder if I 'd better go down and tell 'em it 's
train time. I s'pose they 'd slap me, if I did. I
wont go near 'em "
Nevertheless, Janan kept a watchful eye on the
"Pickenses," and could not help feeling relieved,
when she saw them finally leave their play, and
start lazily homeward.
And now, a thin, blue thread of smoke was seen
away to the southward, and a dull rumble, that
seemed to come from the depths of the earth,
heralded the approach of the morning express."
Janan sprang to her feet, her discontented look
replaced by one of eager interest, as she quickly
swung herself down from the high ledges of rock,

toward the track. She always liked to be near the
trains when they passed. It gave her such an idea
of power, to see the long line of cars dragged by
the mighty giant, to whom time and space seemed
nothing. And then, it was almost the only link
connecting her with the outside world. The brief
glimpse of a face, which she sometimes obtained
as the cars were thundering past, was enough to
give her a sense of companionship, which lasted
for a long time.
Meantime, the carriage Janan had seen reached
the summit of the hill, and brought into view the
scene which had so comforted the child.
Stop the horses, coachman," said Miss Parker
(for it was really the lady of numerous and eccen-
tric charities of whom Janan had spoken), "and
let us get out and enjoy this."
The two ladies left the carriage, and walked
slowly along the edge of the bank, on the carpet
of thick, green moss.
How beautiful all this is 1 said Miss Parker's
companion. I do not believe there is a finer
scene, even on Lake George."
"Yes," answered Miss Parker; "I often tell
New York people that if Lake George were not so
near, Lake Champlain would be better appreciated.
I, for one, am loyal to my home, and it always
pleases me to bring my friends to the lake on
such a morning as this, when -i.n. appears
at its best."
We are quite near the railroad track," she
continued; the track is down in that hollow,
and there is a train which will pass us in a moment
The train was very near them. An instant
more, and it would dash round the short curve
which hid it from their view. Just then, Miss
Parker felt her companion grasp her arm, and
turning, followed her horror-struck gaze, until she
saw on the track, twenty feet below them, a child
of perhaps two years, playing with some bits of
sticks and stones, all unconscious of the horrible
fate which seemed certain to overtake him.
What can we do?" gasped Miss Parker, in
a husky whisper. There is no time- ."
But at that moment the ladies saw, running
down the track, with all the speed of which her
slight frame was capable, a little girl, whose faded
dress and white hair streamed behind her as she
ran, exerting every muscle in a terrible race for
life or death.
It was Janan. She had come down the bank,
and taken her position where she could see the
cars pass.
Looking casually along the track, in the direc-
tion of the approaching train, she saw the young-
est of the Pickens family, who had not gone home




with the rest, after all, still at play with his house-
building. He was close by the curve, and could
not see the engine until it was upon him.
Janan forgot her quarrels, forgot everything,
except that she must save the unconscious child,
who kept on with his play.
I 'm afraidd I can't !" she thought to herself,
as she sprang forward, with all the energy within
her concentrated upon that one purpose. It
seemed so far-and the roar of the train was so
terribly near! What if she should trip and fall.
The thought made her sick with fear. Why
did n't the child hear? Would she never reach
him? Still, the train had not come in sight around
the curve. There might be time. Two minutes
ago, she had said: I would n't lift a finger to
help one of 'em !" But now,-oh, she must save
him,-if she could What if she should be too
late? She strained onward more swiftly, yet so
slowly, as it seemed, and called shrilly:
"Tom! Tom!"
The child turned to her his chubby brown face,
all smiles and dimples,-as the engine came thun-
dering toward him. A hoarse whistle sounded in
quick gasps; and there was the sudden clanging
of a bell.
At last, little. Tom saw his danger. With a
piercing cry, he threw up his arms. He would
have fallen, but Janan reached forward as she ran,
and grasped him tightly by the shoulder. Then
she turned to drag him out of the engine's path.
Too late!
The rushing monster lifted them from their feet,
and whirled them up and off the track.
The engineer stopped his train as soon as pos-
sible, and the conductor and one or two others
came up to see what damage had been done, and
what reparation could be made.
When Miss Parker told him she would see that
the children were cared for, and were restored to
their homes, he thankfully accepted her offer, and
rejoined his train with an exclamation of impa-
tience, in regard to people who let their young
uns run on the track.
At Miss Parker's directions, Johrison, the coach-
man, set out for the houses, not far off, to find at
which of them the children belonged, and to
inform their parents of the accident.
Miss Wait ran quickly down to the little brook,
in the hollow, and filled a drinking cup with water,
which she brought to Miss Parker, who sprinkled
it lightly on Janan's forehead. Its cool touch soon
produced an appearance of returning conscious-
ness, and before long, Janan opened her eyes, and
looked with wonder at the strange faces above her.
A moment more, and her features contracted with
pain, and she closed her eyes.

Are you very much hurt, my dear," said Miss
Parker, kindly, as she bent over her.
I don't know said Janan, faintly, it's in my
shoulder,-and my arm."
Just then, Johnson appeared in sight, accompa-
nied by the mothers of the children, with as many
others as happened to be within hearing, when he
carried the news of the accident.
At the sight of Janan, lying white and helpless
on the grass, they broke out into noisy exclama-
tions of sorrow; but seemed to have no idea of
what should be done for her. Miss Parker quietly
assumed the direction of everything, and Janan
was soon carried, in Johnson's strong arms, up
the steep bank, and home, where she was laid upon
her mother's bed, and then the crowd of lookers-
on was banished.
"Now," said Miss Parker, I want you, John-
son, to drive to the village as soon as possible, and
bring back Doctor Miles. Miss Wait can go with
you, and I will remain here until the doctor
Will it not be better for me to stay here, in-
stead of you ? I am stronger, and more accustomed
to the care of the sick," said Miss Wait.
No," replied Miss Parker, "I shall not leave
her until I know the extent of her injuries."
So Miss Wait and Johnson drove back to the vil-
lage as rapidly as possible, and Miss Parker sat by
Janan's bedside and fanned her, or occasionally
moistened her lips with water.
She lay very still, with her eyes closed; and a
faint moan, now and then, was the only complaint
she made.
Once, as she opened her eyes wide, and looked
at Miss Parker, the lady came closer to her and
said: It was a noble, a brave thing to do Not
many of us would be i !!i.. to risk our lives as
you did."
And she stooped, and pressed a kiss softly upon
Janan's forehead.
The little girl smiled a pleased and happy smile,
and said:
I 'm so glad! But I had to do it, you know.
For I 'd been quarrelin' with 'em all the morning ,
and when I saw little Tom on the track, I thought
if I did n't save him, 't would be most as bad as if
I 'd murdered him."
There, don't try to talk any more," said Miss
Parker; and Janan closed her eyes, and tried to be
as patient as possible, under the severe twinges of
pain, which would force the moans from her in spite
of herself.
After what seemed a long time, Johnson came
back, bringing the doctor. An examination showed
that Janan's arm was broken, and her shoulder
badly bruised.




She bore the painful operation of setting the
arm with heroic endurance, comforted by Miss
Parker's expressions of sympathy.
After the arm was set, and she was comfortable
in bed again, the doctor told her not to feel dis-
couraged, for she would be well before very long.
That cheered her considerably, for, in her igno-
rance, she had thought, perhaps, she never could
use her arm again. So she bade Miss Parker
good-bye, with a smile on her face.
I shall come and see you to-morrow," said the
lady as she left her, for I shall feel very anxious
to know how you are."
When Miss Parker reached home, she said to
Miss Wait:
It is wonderful what courage that child has.
She bore that painful operation with more calm-
ness than most grown people would have shown;
and think of her risking her life for that little fel-
low! She is quite an uncommon child, I am sure."
And she told Miss Wait what Janan had said
of her motive in saving the little boy.
She sat lost in thought for some minutes, and
then began :
I am resolved to do something for her She
shall have a year's schooling at any rate If her
arm is well enough, when the schools open in the
fall, she shall come here, and board with old Mrs.
Miller, and go to school for a year. After that,
we shall be able to find something else for her."
Miss Parker kept her promise to Janan, and
went back to see her the next day, and the next,
also. And, in fact, there were not many days
during the summer that she did not visit her.
And many were the delightful little remembrances
which she left behind,-one day, a bouquet of
beautiful hot-house flowers, of such brilliance as
Janan had never dreamed of; the next, a basket
of delicious fruit, of which the name even was
strange to Janan; or a picture of angels, with
great white wings, to hang at the foot of her bed,
and be with her, even in her dreams. And as she
grew stronger, Johnson brought, one day, a bright,
chintz-covered lounge, which Miss Parker thought
would be a pleasant change from the bed, and
which seemed to Janan the most delightful and
desirable resting-place in the world.

She lay upon her lounge, one hot afternoon in
August, looking abstractedly at its bunches of
crimson rosebuds, and thinking that all these
pleasant events in her life must come to an end,
as she was fast getting well. Just then, Miss
Parker came in. She held in her hand a cluster
of white lilies, which filled the room with their per-
fume, as she gave them to Janan.
You are almost well now, and I shall not
feel anxious about you any more," she said, "so
you must not expect to see me here quite so
The large tears gathered in Janan's eyes and
rolled slowly down her cheeks; but she did not
say one word.
Then Miss Parker, sitting down by the lounge,
took her hand in her own, and told her what plans
she had made. How Janan was to begin school
in a few weeks, and how she was to board with a
worthy widow lady, whom Miss Parker knew, and
who would teach her many things she could not
learn in school. How she was to have a whole
year of school, and after that, was to be assisted to
help herself.
Lost in wonder and delight, Janan could find no
words in which to thank her kind friend, but Miss
Parker read her joy and gratitude in her beaming
So something really happened" to Janan,
after all. And the June day, which opened with
so many hopeless longings, proved to be the turn-
ing-point in her life.
We must have one more glimpse of her. It is
nearly two years since the eventful June day.
Janan has had her year of school, and has obtained
a position as child's nurse. And in the neat and
tidy young girl, with brown hair and fair com-
plexion, who is known in the village as Jenny
Brown, it would be hard to recognize the Janan
of former days.
In her own home, the change in Jenny's affairs
was regarded with much wonder. And her father
was wont to dispose of the matter by saying:
Janan allus was the lucky one of the family;
none of the rest of 'em would 'a' gone and got run
over by the engine, with Miss Parker stan'in' right
by to pick 'em up."







OUT in the open sea stood an old spirit of evil
called General Ledge, who held his head high
above the level of the water. He was hard feat-
ured and cross-grained, and his brow was furrowed
into a constant frown ; which was truly the most ap-
propriate expression he could wear, as his only
object in life was the destruction of sailors and
their craft. To these he was a powerful enemy,
backed as he was by the strongest of allies,-the
sullen fog, the dark, cloudy nights, the fierce winds
and the raging waves. It was the fog's business,
and also the cloudy nights', to veil the sailors' eyes
and cause them to lose their way ; it was the winds'
to drive their vessel toward the rock, who would no
sooner feel her approach than he would thrust his
long, sharp ribs through her, making way for the
waves to possess themselves of her, and drag her,
together with her cargo and crew, down into the
bottom of the ocean. Old General Ledge and his
wicked army corps had destroyed in this manner so
many human lives, that at last the good light-
house keeper at Fairy Point resolved to put an end
to their mischief; so he moored a bell-buoy near

the old rock to ring, whenever the storm should
rage, a warning to the seamen to keep off.
A fine sturdy fellow was the bell-buoy, with an
iron body, a loud iron tongue, and long chain arms
with iron hands, that stretched so far they could
grapple the ocean-bed and hold him in one place
upon the water. So soon as the light-house keeper
had found the buoy's anchors were fast to the spot
where he had cast them off, he addressed to him
these parting words:
Bell-buoy, I have made you good and strong,
and able to hold out long and stanchly against the
enemies by whom you are surrounded. Here is
your post of duty ; never flinch from it; whatever
betide, stand fast by the seamen and their craft."
And the bell-buoy, proud of his daring mission,
promised himself that he would.
But, so soon as the man had left him, he began
to feel lonely and sad. To be sure, the waters were
smiling then in the daylight, but the man at the
light-house had told him they were treacherous;
the winds were absent, but he knew they visited
often and he must expect them soon; moreover,




only a little way off, scowling at the bell-buoy, stood
the wicked old General Ledge, ever grim and
threatening, even while at rest from his naughty
sport in the very face of the cheery old Sun.

crouches a wicked old reef ready to stave you in
This was the call of the fog-horn at Mastenhead.
Ah !" thought the bell-buoy, "that is the voice


Never mind," thought the bell-buoy, I shall
save many a costly ship, and many a goodly crew,
and the memory of my useful deeds will cheer me
in my loneliness."
Soon after, the fog-veil spread, and the flying
winds drove the high waves before them; then the
buoy bestirred himself and tolled at the top of his
voice, so that every coming ship might hear:

-. ,l, l. I .

I 'II '
- ii I i;: II

of a kindred spirit, whose life-work is the same as
mine; if I could only be near it, I would never be
lonely and sad."
He leapt frantically on the wave, and loosened
one of his anchors, making ready to drift in the
direction whence came the voice, when, suddenly,
he heard the whistle of a steamer in distress grow-
ing louder and plainer each moment, as if bearing


"Bear away Bear away Here stands old Gen- quickly toward the ledge. This woke the bell-buoy
eral Ledge ready to shatter you in pieces." from his selfish dream, he bounded back, and
Strange to say, between his ding and dong, the grappled bottom again with the anchor he had
strain of a soft voice reached him out of the dis- dragged, and, rocking wildly, he tolled as loud as
tance: he could till after the steamer's whistle had long
"Toot! Toot !" chimed in the distant voice; been muffled by the distance.
"Keep off! Keep off! Hard by in the water Then he thought of all the cruel mischief



----~--~'~'~-~- --~-=_~-~T~T=~~_~-~ I______~_~_~~


I--- '
S. -- -


that might have followed, if he had listened to his
heart and drifted away to the fog-horn, and ever

after he held quite fast to his post, though he often
felt lonely and sad. "At least," thought he, "we
live the same life, though apart, our voices chime
often together, and our efforts unite in the same
good, noble cause."
But it was so hard for him to keep away from
the fog-horn whenever he heard her voice, that a
little weak spot in his left side cracked, and though
at first the wound was almost imperceptible, the
wary winds espied it and twitted him with it, and
the passing waves chafed it, till they wore it wide
enough for them to creep through and take pos-
session of the sinking buoy.
But even while the waters were closing around
him, the bell-buoy was happily unconscious of his
fate, for a beautiful vision filled his mind, in which
all the craft he had rescued passed before him with
their grateful crews looking out at him over the rail-
ings, waving their caps and cheering at the top of
their voices: God bless the faithful bell-buoy!"



So THE parrot called her, and I think he was
right; for, although shaped like a common-sized
deer, she was not more than eight inches high.
You can see her picture here, and it is a true one;
it was drawn from the little creature herself.
Perhaps it is the most rare and curious animal
that was ever brought to our country, and I must
tell you her story; but first I will say that this deer
family is not a new discovery. It has long been
known to the book-makers, though it is so shy and
swift to fly from men, and so cunning in hiding
among thick grass and shrubs that very little is
known of the habits of the family in its native
They live in India and the islands near, and
they have almost as many names as they have
inches of height. They are called musk-deer,
though they have no musk; mouse-deer, though
they are not in the least like a mouse; and moose-
deer, though still less like a moose. All these
names are supposed to arise from the different
ways in which people pronounce the Dutch name
for mouse. But that is not all. Some call them
the Nafu, many call them the pigmy musk, and
the books complete the list with Moschus-meminna.
An old writer says of it: There is a creature
in this land (Ceylon) no -.;. 1- ii. -, a hare, though

every part rightly resembleth a deer; of a gray
color, with white spots and good meat."
Good meat Ah, that's their misfortune The
good meat which they carry on their bones is the
cause of their being hunted with dogs, caught in
traps, and killed by a stick thrown against their
legs, when they come into a garden at night to
feed on the young sweet-potatoes.
They have no horns, and the skull is shaped
something like that of a rat, with very long and
strong tusks. ,It is said by some writers that,
when chased by animals, they will leap into the
air, catch on to the branch of a tree by their
tusks, and hang there till all is safe. Whether
this is true or not, it is certain that they do make
wonderful jumps; though when hunted by men
and dogs, they run for a hollow log, or for the
water, where they quickly swim out of the reach
of hunters.
No animal-not even a cat-can be more grace-
ful than these little creatures; and, like Pussy,
too, they can, if they like, give a sharp bite.
They are of a glossy red-brown color, though now
and then one is found of a snowy white. That
happy deer who is white is at once adopted as a
pet, and never, never thought of as "meat."
They have large black eyes, full of expression,




and liquid as a gazelle's are said to be, and their legs
are no bigger than a common lead-pencil, with
the daintiest little black hoofs you can imagine.
The babies of this pretty family are about the
size of very young kittens; and, if taken before they
learn to be afraid of people, they are easily tamed,
and are interesting pets about a house.
Now, I '11 tell you about the one in the picture,
whose name was Joan. She was born in the

hunter. He carefully secured them, and carried
them off to the city of Singapore, where he hoped
to sell them.
Passing through the street, an American sailor,
whose ship lay in the harbor, saw the pretty,
strange creatures, and-after the fashion of sailors
-bought them to carry home, though he had to
pay for them with his watch.
The strange new home of the timid little family


i 1''illi li 1|;|11 |,li! i i ii il tiuiII i'l iiiii iiiiii ti, IiI i | I 11 111111' :I ,1.1 1 ii 11 i .i l lllil 1, 111IIII 11 1 | 1. 11 | II.II I '

island of Sumatra, and, when quietly feeding one was the ship "Janet," bound for New York, and
day with three companions, had the misfortune to the bed of the small passengers was made in a
be seen by a dog. Now, a dog is the worst enemy cozy corner of the captain's cabin, under his bunk
of the whole deer family, and of course the four -which is the sailor word for bed, you know.
took to their fleet little heels, and in a few minutes There were four of them, as I said, and their owner
were all safely hidden in a nice hollow log, where gave them the not very descriptive names, Jack
they crouched in the dark, trembling at the fearful and Jill, Darby and Joan. The vessel sailed, and
bark of their big noisy enemy outside. their long voyage of more than four months began.
But, as it happened, the dog had a master There was another resident of the captain's
behind him, and the master came up and dragged cabin, a pet parrot, who at once struck up an
the whole party, more dead than alive, out of their intimacy with the new-comers, evidently welcoming
retreat. They are very cunning, and they pre- them as society in his lonely life. Finding that
tended to be dead; but that did not deceive the they were not to be hurt, the deer, after a while,

ii: ..... ll, II





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grew quite at home, and Poll was on the most
affectionate terms with them. He delighted to
perch on their backs or their heads, and to talk to
them, calling each vb its own name, or, all together,
his "'dear little deer.
During the long voyage, there was one tragic
affair. One day, Poll was much pleased to find
added to the family of four, two little deer babies.
They were about as big as very young kittens,
though they did not look like Pussy's babies, hav-
ing long legs, like all their family. This was an
event, to be sure, in a dull, tedious voyage, and
Poll was very much interested in the little stran-
gers. He stood nearly all the time perched on a
box where he could see them, turning his wise
head first one side and then the other, examining
them curiously, and calling them also, most affec-
tionately, his "dear little deer."
This happy state of affairs came to a sad end,
by means of the babies' father. Why he did that
dreadful thing, nobody knows, of course. Whether
he thought life in a ship was worse than an early
death, or whether he was jealous of the attention
they had, that strange parent-you '11 be horrified
to hear-put an end to their short lives by biting
off their legs with his sharp front teeth !
This was a grief to Poll, but it was only the be-
ginning of sorrows. When the Janet" reached
Sandy Hook, it was winter, and cold is fatal to
delicate natives of the south. The little family
were provided with the warmest of bedding, to
keep them comfortable; but, while the captain
was on deck, two of them wandered away from
their quarters and died of cold.
Poor Poll took this to heart; he sat disconso-
lately on his perch and mourned in silence. But
when they reached New York, and another of the
family died of cold, the bird evidently made up
his mind that all was over. He retired to his own
corner of the cabin, became very low-spirited, and
utterly refused to speak. It did not even arouse
him to see the last one go away, which she did, in
a market-basket. To this green-coated philosopher
the world seemed, no doubt, a hollow mockery,-
a fleeting show.
The only survivor of the pretty family-the
widowed Joan-had become accustomed to life in
a ship; but a basket was new and strange, and
when she reached the home of the gentleman who
had bought her, she was more timid than ever.
She hardly dared to stand up, but crouched, always
ready to run in an instant.
Then she had new acquaintances to make.
These were, first, the dog, of whose intentions
she was always suspicious-with good reason. Per-
haps even worse was the cat,-a fearful monster in

her eyes,-who, it must be admitted, showed the
greatest eagerness to catch her, no doubt with the
desire to make a meal of her, as Pussy's big cousin,
the tiger, does of the little deer's cousins, in coun-
tries where they both are wild.
Besides the two animals who made life a terror
to her, there was a new variety, of human kind,
to get used to. On the ship were only men, and
she had learned that they would not hurt her; but
this new species, with long, rustling skirts, she did
not understand, and what she did not understand
always frightened her. She was in a constant
state of nervous watchfulness.
When called by her master,-who named her
Nan-she would come to him and allow him to
caress her, even showing her affection by licking
his hand like a dog; but the slightest noise would
send her like a flash across the room behind a
table or chair, to hide, and the slamming of a door
would make her spring two or three feet into the
air. Her tiny feet made no noise on Zhe carpet,
and her motions were so rapid, she seemed to
fairly glide over it like a spirit.
It was not meant that this beautiful pet should
die, like her unfortunate relations, with cold. So
her home was made in a basket in the warm room
of the house-mistress, where she could never feel a
chill, nor be in danger from dog or cat, however
savage, though she was not confined to this room,
but ran all over the house. She lived upon vege-
tables, which her sharp teeth cut like a knife;
parsnips, carrots, sweet-potatoes, and cabbage
were on her bill of fare.
She was the most quiet of pets, though when
fed she had a sort of low whistle; and sometimes
she would utter a whinnying cry, which in Borneo
is considered by the natives an evil omen, so por-
tentous that a newly married pair, on hearing the
sound, will at once separate, being sure that the
marriage would prove unfortunate.
This attractive little deer lived some days in the
new home, and the whole family had become much
attached to her, hoping by summer to make her so
much at home that she would run about every-
where, and also to teach the dog and cat that she
was a pet, and not to be touched. But their hopes
were dashed one morning to find her dead in her
It may have been the food, for, in her native
woods she ate berries and fruits; or possibly a chill,
or some sudden terror which had startled her
sensitive nerves. Whatever the cause, poor little
Joan was at rest.
There is-or there was, a few months ago-in a
window on Maiden Lane, in New York, a group
of Mouse Deer, stuffed and standing up like life.

VOL. VII.-32.





OH, the Spring has come," chirped the dear
little birds
I. As they opened their drowsy eyes,
And shook out the fans in their pretty tails,
And turned-up their heads to the skies.

/ '' .
r/ .:i'- ,
-. .. -. -.. -

" 'T is time now to look for a place to build"-
So Robin engaged an elm tree.
The black Crow she spoke for a tall pine's top,
Where high in the world she might be.

The Sparrow took lease of an old ox-track
III With grasses to thatch it all o'er.
I like a low cottage," she said to herself,-
With a daisy to nod by the door."

The Swallow she fancied the corner lot
IV, Of the barn, neathh the sloping eaves;
The Oriole sought for a graceful twig,
Where her cradle could rock with the breeze.

The Spring has come," said each little flower
As she stirred in her damp, brown bed;
V. First Snowdrop peeped in her neat white cap,
Then modestly hung down her head.





Do I hear Sir Robin?" said Crocus white,
S; "I am certainly late," cried she;
VI. Then popped out her head from under the clothes,
/ And looked straight into the tree,

The May-Flower woke, and she drew from the moss .'
On which she had pillowed her head,
VI. -Her small waxen phials of odorous sweets
To perfume her soft, lowly bed.


S '" 'T is darksome down here," moaned Violet blue;
4. [ But when she crept out to the sky,
SI' She had to slip back just behind a green leaf,
'T was so bright for her tender young eye,

These rich, golden beams," said Buttercup gay,
I will take to my dairy brown,
IX And churn them and pat them in bright little balls,
The green of my young buds to crown."

./ t- O, there is a bee i cried Miss Clover, so red,
X.. He 's buzzing because I 'm not up;
X So she sprang into sight with her sweet honey jars,
SAnd asked Mr. Bee in to sup.

A busy time is this fresh, bright Spring
For Birdie and Bee and for Flowers; ,
XI, There's work for each in its own little world, .
And joy just the same as in ours. './' .






IN this story, the Major recounts an incident of
his African travels, which is just nothing at all
compared with certain other matters and events
which have come to the knowledge of that remark-
able man.

MY negro gardener came to me one evening in
great alarm, and stated that his twin sons, Mango
and Chango, had taken out his gun that morning,
and had been missing ever since. I at once loaded
my rifle, loosed my Cuban blood-hound, and fol-
lowed the man to his hut. There I put the dog
upon the boys' scent, following on horseback
It turned out that the young scamps had gone
on the trail of a large bear, though they were only
thirteen years old, and their father had often
warned them not to meddle with wild beasts.
They began their adventure by hunting the bear,
but ended, as often happens, in being hunted by
the bear: for Bruin had turned upon them, and
chased them so hard that they were fain to drop
the gun and take to a tree.
It was a sycamore, of peculiar shape, sending
forth from its stem many small, but only two large,

branches. These two were some thirty feet from
the ground, and stretched almost horizontally in
opposite directions. They were as like each other
as the twin brothers themselves. Change took
refuge on one of these, Mango on the other.
The bear hugged the tree till he had climbed as
far as the fork. There, he hesitated an instant,
and then began to creep along the branch which
supported Chango. The beast advanced slowly
and gingerly, sinking his claws into the bark at
every step, and not depending too much upon his
balancing powers.
Change's position was now far from pleasant.
It was useless to play the trick-well known to
bear-hunters-of enticing the animal out to a point
where the branch would yield beneath its great
weight, for there was no higher branch within
Change's reach, by catching which he could save
himself from a deadly fall,-thirty feet sheer.
Three more steps, and the bear would be upon
him, or he would be upon the ground. Brave as
the boy was, his teeth chattered.
At this moment, Mango, nerved to heroism by
his brother's peril, moved rapidly from the oppo-
site limb of the tree. Stepping behind the bear.




he grasped with one hand a small higher bough,
which extended to where he stood, but not to
where his brother lay; with the other hand, he
seized the animal firmly by its stumpy tail. The
bear turned to punish his rash assailant; but,
angry as he was, he turned cautiously. It was no
easy task to right-about-face on a branch which
already had begun to tremble and sway beneath
his weight.
Change was saved, for the bear evidently had
transferred his animosity to Mango, whom he pur-
sued, step by step, toward the extremity of the
other limb. But Chango was not the boy to leave
his brother and rescuer in the lurch. Waiting
until the enraged brute was well embarked upon
Mango's branch, he pulled its tail, as he had seen
his brother do before. Again Bruin turned awk-
wardly, and resumed the interrupted chase of
The twins continued their tactics with success.
Whenever the bear was well advanced on one
limb, and dangerously close to one twin, the other
twin would sally from the other limb and pull his
tail. The silly animal always would yield to his
latest impulse of wrath, and suffer himself to be
diverted from the enemy who was almost in his
After two hours of disappointment, he learned
his mistake. He was now, for the tenth time, on
Change's branch, and very near Chango. In vain
Mango dragged at his hinder extremity: he kept

grimly on till Mango, forced to choose between
letting go the brute's tail or the higher branch
which enabled him to keep his feet, let go the
Change could now retreat no farther, and he
was hardly a yard beyond the bear's reach. The
branch was swaying more than ever, and the beast
seemed quite aware that he might tax its strength
too far. After a pause, he advanced one of his
fore feet a quarter of a yard. To increase the
bear's difficulty in seizing him, the terrified boy let
himself down and swung with his hands from the
He was hanging in suspense between two fright-
ful deaths. His heart was sinking, his fingers
were relaxing.
. Then the deep baying of a hound struck his
ear, and his hands again closed firmly on the
branch. In a moment, a blood-hound and a horse-
man sprang through the underwood.
Change held on like grim death,-held on till
he heard the sharp report of a rifle ringing through
the air; held on till the f,1, i ,- carcass of the bear
passed before his eyes; held on till I had climbed
the tree, crawled along the branch, and, grasping
his wearied wrists, assisted him to get back to the
fork of the tree, and rest a bit.
If that bear only had understood in time that a
boy in the hand is worth two in the bush, he
might have lengthened his days and gone down
with honor to the grave !



IT 'S drifted even full between the top of the
house and the bank, and the sheep have n't come!"
shouted Johnny, as he looked into the house, after
breaking a path to the barn.
Sheep's in big snow-d'ift, I dess," wisely as-
serted little Jamie.
I 'm afraid they have run off and got lost, so
we 'II never see 'em again," mourned Bo-peep.
May be they have found a sheltered place in
the bushes somewhere," replied Johnny.
Not much shelter out-of-doors from such a
storm as this has been," said the mother, softly, as
she cast an anxious glance out upon the snow-cov-
ered world.
The loss of their sheep, or even of three or four
lambs, would be a serious matter to this fatherless

family; for the sale of the lambs and wool, and
of the butter and eggs from one cow and a score of
hens, was all they had to live upon, excepting what
Johnny and Bo-peep earned picking blue-berries
on the plains, in summer, and cranberries on the
meadow, for a neighbor, in the autumn. They
had a few acres of land, from which Johnny usu-
ally raised vegetables enough for the family, and
cut hay sufficient for the cow and sheep. But the
flock had increased, and this season the hay was
falling short.
Only late in the day, before the storm, the sheep
had been let out to nibble the coarse, green herb-
age that appeared in numerous patches, where the
snow had melted away between the pines on the
neighboring plains. It was usually Bo-peep's busi-



ness to watch them, and so it was on this occasion.
But a little before dark she came running into the
house, very much out of breath, exclaiming:
Mother, the sheep are just as ugly as they can
be They would n't follow me, and when I tried
to drive them home, they ran back, every way,
and I could n't get them home, at all,-not one of
"Don't worry yourself, dear," said her mother;
"sit down in the rocking-chair and rest. Johnny
will go after them as soon as he comes."
Johnny did go after them, but-as we have
already learned-without success; and so the
sheep were out in the greatest snow-storm of the
"All this comes because Bo-peep got vexed
with the sheep, and left 'em," said Johnny.
"We hope that she will learn to be more
patient," replied their mother, stroking Bo-peep's
Had n't you better run over to Mr. Brown's,
Johnny, and see if the sheep did n't go in there? "
After shoveling a path to the well, and preparing
more wood for the fire, Johnny went.
No," said Mr. Brown, in reply to Johnny's
question; the sheep have n't been here, and I
have n't seen or heard anything of'em. When 'd
they go away? "
Johnny told him how they happened to be lost.
Don't you worry about 'em. They 're in the
bushes, somewhere. They '11 trample the snow
down around 'em, so as to get at the bushes. If
'twas only among birch and beech bushes, now,
those sheep would get along well enough,-but
among these saplin' pines-I don' know. I hope
that the wolves, they tell of down river, wont be
prowlin' around this way. They 're drefful cre'tur's
to kill sheep."
Johnny started for home, feeling more hopeless
and sad than when he had come. It was now cer-
tain that the sheep and young lambs were stuck'in
the snow somewhere on the woody plains. Johnny
had intended to search the thickets on his way
home; but when he left the ridge along which
the road ran, the deep snow so clogged and bound
him, that he made but little progress, and was at
length forced to go home without the least token
of the missing flock. Bo-peep cried when she
heard Johnny's report, and her mother could
scarcely keep back the tears when she thought that
if they should lose their flock, they could not make
the payments due on their little homestead.
The larger part of the next day was spent by
Johnny in going from hill to hill, and in climbing
trees, where he peered into every vista, and lis-
tened to every sound,-if, by good fortune, he
might catch a glimpse of a fleece, or the faintest

bleating of sheep or lamb. Several times he did
hear bleats, but so smothered that he could not
tell whence they proceeded, or so distant that he
supposed they came from a neighbor's flock.
The day after the storm had been warm, and
this was warmer still, melting the snow away in
some spots; but toward night the wind changed,
and the air grew very cool; and Johnny hastened
home to do up the evening chores.
By day-break the next morning he was out-of-
doors. He found, as he had expected, a crust
upon the snow firm enough to bear him. Having
milked the cow and fed the hens, he sat down with
his mother to their breakfast; then, after brief
devotions, he sallied out upon the piny plains.
The poor birds, which had come in numbers
during the warm days when the snow was off, were
now chilled and nearly famished. Johnny could
see them, now and then, searching about in the
great trees and in the thickets for the least morsel
of food. Several times he caught sight of rabbits,
hopping about the copses, or sitting, with long ears
erect, and large, wondering eyes, as if to inquire
and hear "why in the world the boy was staring
about in these woods."
Now a fish-hawk sailed slowly over, high in
air; and, yonder, a straggling flock of crows hur-
ried toward some unseen point, for some unknown
Everything looked so cheerful when he started,
that Johnny had confidently expected success;
but, as noon drew nigh, the softening crust yielded
more and more under his feet, and he grew weary
and despondent. He had searched in an ever-
widening circle about the spot where the sheep
were last seen,-but not a track nor token of them
had yet been discovered.
Hungry and weary, he turned toward home, with
a choking feeling in his throat, and sometimes
with misty eyes.
Thoughhe now broke through the crust at every
step; the snow was rarely more than knee-deep;
but there was a snowy gully to cross, in the bot-
tom of which ran, usually, a small rivulet, now a
deep stream. A fallen tree enabled him to cross this
without a wetting. The top led him into a spur of
the main gully,-deep, narrow, and shaded by
great pines. This had been drifted full of snow,
which, owing to its shaded position, had thawed
but little. Johnny threw himself flat upon the
mass, and began to crawl along, thinking that thus
he would not sink, as he must if he stood upon his
Between him and the fringe of bushes some
twenty feet distant, marking the edge of the bank,
the snow had sunken away in a saucer-like cavity;
and in the very center of this appeared a small





opening. Johnny feared there was a spring, or
quagmire, underneath, into which he might fall; he
therefore turned to make a wide circuit of the
Too late He suddenly found the snow breaking

creatures under the loose snow his fall had thrown
over him. Lambs bleated in affright; and Johnny
perceived that he had tumbled into the midst of a
flock of sheep.
They had come into this shady hollow for shelter

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away beneath him, and before he could throw him-
self upon a firmer part, or grasp a bough, he found
that he was falling rapidly down, together with a
great mass of snow. Confused and blinded, amid
the snowy avalanche, for some moments he could
not discern where he was. He was not in the
water; but there was rapid movement of living

from the storm, and been buried under the drift-
ing snow. The warmth of their bodies had soon
thawed away a cavity, the snow had settled, and a
large breathing-hole had formed above them.
So here were the lost sheep and lambs, all hud-
dled together in the gully, snug and warm.
The snow had melted from the mossy and porous

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soil, and the shrubs and herbage were all gnawed
close. The sheep might still be hungry, but they
were not starving.
Pretty soon all had shaken themselves out from
the fallen snow, so that each one could be plainly
seen. Johnny counted them; none were missing,
except one weakly lamb. How to get them out,
now, was the question. He trod steps for himself,
up the bank of snow, but the sheep would not fol-
low; so he went home, rather late for dinner, but
with a heart so merry, that it was as good as a feast.
After dinner, he repaired again to the gully,

carrying a dish of salt, agreeable to flocks after
green forage. He gave each of the sheep a taste,
then put a little on each step, and the ewes all fol-
lowed him up, and the lambs after them,-only
he had to bring two or three. One, the weakest,
he carried all the way home. So they went home
in regular procession; first Johnny with the salt-
dish in his hand and a lamb in his arms; then
two ewes and a lamb; then a ewe and two lambs.
It was a pleasant sight to this humble family,-
who certainly ate their bread and milk that night
with gladness of heart.



IN the old days of Rome, when the Pope was
absolute ruler, and before the present King of Italy
lived there with his sweet, young wife, Holy Week,
the last week in Lent, which ends with Easter Sun-
day, used to be celebrated so prettily that strangers
went from far and near to see the spectacle. There
were all sorts of processions in the streets, fine
music in the churches, ceremonies in the great
basilica of St. Peter, and everybody looked happy;
for the Italians seem a great deal more like grown-
up children than like men and women. They are
fond of all bright, pleasant things, and though it is
their religion to observe the rites of Holy Week,
the doing so gladdens them, for other reasons.
But all these ceremonies cease at the close of
Easter Sunday, which is made a sort of beautiful
climax to the week of celebrations. Everybody
who can get there hurries to St. Peter's, the largest
church in the world, you know, and the one you
see illuminated in the picture. There all the most
important ceremonies take place, and everybody
wants to see them. St. Peter's is on the right bank
of the muddy Tiber, which flows swiftly through
Rome, dividing the city somewhat as the river
Seine divides the city of Paris. The largest por-
tion of the town, where most of the people live, is
on the left side of the river; so when they go to St.
Peter's-and that is very often-they have to cross
the bridge of St. Angelo, as the picture shows.
The Castle of St. Angelo is the big round fortress
you see at the right; and from there a street leads
directly to the great place, or piazza, as the Italians
call it, before St. Peter's.
At each corner of the front of the church begins
a grand covered walk, called a colonnade. For some

distance this covered walk, which has four rows of
handsome pillars to support the roof, comes straight
from the front of the church. Then it curves out
into an oval form, and nearly surrounds the open
place, which would otherwise be a square. Look-
ing down from the roof of the church, the colon-
nades seem like great stone sickles, the handles join-
ing the building, and the blades-the points toward
each other-inclosing the piazza. The colonnades,.
favorite places for the Romans to walk in when the
piazza is sunny and hot, are always crowded when
the people are waiting to see or attend any of the
famous ceremonials of the church.
St. Peter's itself is so big, so much bigger than
any church you and I have ever seen in this country,
that I am afraid you would get very little idea of it
if I should say it was 696 feet at its longest part,
and 450 feet at its widest. It is built, like most
Roman churches, in the form of a cross, and just
over the part where the arms of the cross, or tran-
sept, separate from the body of the cross, or nave,
rises the great dome, which is 403 feet from the
floor to the top. Beside this great dome, are two
lesser but not little ones, and six, I think, really
small ones; and it was the lighting of all of them
which made St. Peter's so magnificent on Easter
Sunday evening.
On Easter Sunday morning, there used to be a
service in St. Peter's, in which the Pope took part.
The great interior was crowded with ladies and
gentlemen, the ladies all wearing black dresses and
veils, and the gentlemen, evening dress or hand-
some uniforms. There was beautiful music, and
chanting by the priests; and after it was over, the
Pope was lifted in his great chair of state, and




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borne on the shoulders of men in a long procession
from the church. About noon he appeared on the
gallery in front of the big dome and over the great
,door of the church, and looking down on the crowds
in the piazza below, gave them his blessing.
This was a very pretty sight. The place was full
of people; fathers, mothers, girls and boys, babies
held up in their mothers' arms, and little bits of
toddling children, all dressed in their best, with
bright-colored garments and shining chains and
rings-the Italians love jewelry, and wear all they
can get-all looking bright and happy, waiting
patiently for the Pope to come. Even the strangers
who did not think as he did were glad to see him,
for he was a gentle, kindly old man, and looked
very handsome, standing above the people in his
white robe and rich, red cloak.
But the most splendid part of the festival was
when, just at dusk, the whole church of St. Peter's
was illuminated, as you see in the picture, by forty-
four hundred lamps. These were hung on all the
pillars of the portico, the corners of the walls, the
angles of the domes-wherever, in fact, the line of
light could bring out the shape of the building.
Even the great cross on the big bronze ball at the
top of the large dome looked like a cross of fire.
If the evening were dark, the stone' walls of the
building seemed to disappear, and a monster cage
of flame to stand in its place.

About an hour and a quarter after sunset, when
the people had begun to grow tired of this spec-
tacle, 250 workmen would, in almost as little time
as it takes to tell it, change the lamps for blazing
torches. This was the most imposing sight of the
day, and the people waited for it patiently for hours.
It was well worth seeing, too. Travelers stood in
the streets, side by side with the Romans, that they
might witness what they could never witness in their
own countries. Perhaps the sight will never be
observed in Rome again, because for sonie years
before the gentle old Pope, Pio Nono, died, and ever
since the new Pope, Leo X., was chosen, the custom
of illuminating St. Peter's has been discontinued.
Those who have seen it know how beautiful it
was, and how delighted the Roman people were
after spending the day in idly wandering about the
city; whole families together visiting, chattering,
and enjoying the sunshine, with the illuminations,
and the fire-works that sometimes rose high over
the gloomy castle of St. Angelo, and fell into the
dark, hurrying river.
The castle of St. Angelo was built by the
Emperor Hadrian, for a tomb for himself and his
descendants, and for a long time their remains
were placed there. But when the Goths came
down from Germany, they turned it into a fortress,
without asking anybody's leave, and a fortress it
has remained ever since.



POOR little Daffy-down-Dilly !
She slept with her head on a rose,
When a sly moth miller kissed her,
And left some dust on her nose.

Poor little Daffy-down-Dilly !
She woke when the clock struck ten,
And hurried away to the Fairy Queen's ball,
Down in the shadowy glen.

Poor little Daffy-down-Dilly !
Right dainty was she and fair,
In her bodice of yellow satin,
And petticoat green and rare.

But to look in her dew-drop mirror,
She quite forgot when she rose,
And into the Queen's high presence
Tripped with a spot on her nose.

Then the little knight who loved her-
O, he wished that he were dead,
And the Queen's maid began to titter,
And tossed her saucy head.

And up from her throne so stately,
The wee Queen rose in her power,
Just waved her light wand o'er her,
And she changed into a flower.

Poor little Daffy-down-Dilly !
Now in silver spring-time hours
She wakes in the sunny meadows,
And lives with the other flowers.

Her beautiful yellow bodice
With green skirts wears she still,
And the children seek and love her,
But they call her Daffodil.





I WONDER if any one thinks how tiresome it is
to be a little girl, and how perfectly horrid a girl's
mother can be, if she chooses? No; that's the
worst about grown people, they never seem to sus-
pect that there is anything out of the way about
them. They are saints in white, of course. Ah,
but Kitty's mother! She is perfectly splendid.
I don't know Kitty's mother very well, but they
live in a "splendiferous" big house next to ours,
and I often hear what goes on at the other side of
the fence.
My mother makes me wait on her all day long.
It's Mary Jane, just put on your hat and run
down to Bennet's, and see why they don't send the
coal"; or, "Mary Jane, step 'round to Hazleton's,
and tell them to send me a peck of potatoes."
Very nice, to be sure. Why don't she "just run
round to Bennet's," or "step into Hazleton's"
herself, if it 's such a trifle.
Kitty's mother says: "Don't wear yourself out
carrying that heavy parasol. Let Eliza hold it
over your head, love." I heard her as they were
walking in the garden.
Imagine my mother thinking that I could wear
myself out. No, not though I ran errands and
tended baby, and ran up and down stairs all day
And oh, once I was in the toy-shop, and Kitty
and her mother came in, and her mother did
actually say, "Don't you see anything here that
you would like, Kitty, dear ?" And "Kitty, dear,"
like a simpleton, said, "No, mamma."
I wish my mother would let me call her "mam-
ma," it sounds so stylish, and makes you feel just
like a girl in a book; but she says mother is the
most beautiful name in the world. I 'm sure, I
don't think so.
People say that I 'm not a good little girl, and I
think it 's because I 'm not brought up judiciously.
It spoils a child's disposition to be constantly
thwarted, and that's why I do a great many things
that are bad. That's why I tear my clothes so
often, and make up faces behind people's backs.
I 'm aggravated. If my mother was not so strict
about my going to school, I think I should be a
much better girl. I '11 tell you how I have to
manage when I don't want to go. I get the twins,
and begin the most interesting play that ever was.
Just as we get all ready to have the party, or get
into the cars for a journey, or something exciting, I
stop short and say : "I can't play any more now;

it 's school time." Then Lucy sets up the most
awful howl, and as she has been sick, it is n't good
for her to cry, so if mother's pretty busy, and
can't 'tend to her, she says: "Perhaps you had
better stay at home to-day, Mary Jane. Lucy is
so fretful, and will have to be amused." And then
I get them into the yard, and run away and have a
good time by myself. I know it is n't right, but
I 'm aggravated to it.
But what I particularly like about Kitty's mother
is that she is so interested in everything you do,
and is so encouraging. Now, there is that compo-
sition I wrote, and mother snubbed so. At least,
she said I had better try something more simple,
and would n't let me give it in. It begins: "It
was a beautiful spring morning, and all nature
seemed to blend with one accord into each other."
Well, I always thought it was real good, and when
I read it to Kitty's mother, she said she thought it
was beautiful, and that I would turn out a famous
All this I wrote one day in my journal. It is
dated May z2st, 1879, a year ago, so now I can
tell you what happened afterward when I had a
chance to compare Kitty's mother with my own.

One day, Kitty's mother came to see mine. I
supposed that she had come to make a call, and I
thought that was splendid, 'cause I believed that
she might influence her to bring me up as she did
Kitty. But, oh, she had an object in coming that
I never should have dreamt of. She wanted to
adopt me for a companion for Kitty. I was in the
room when she told my mother so, and my heart
bounced, I can tell you.
I thought mother looked amused at first, and
she put her hand under my chin to hold my face
up to hers, and said: Do you want to leave your
mother, dear?" I really believe she thought I
would n't want to go.
When I said, ." Oh, mother, do let me," a great
blush came over her face. I will think it over,"
she said, quietly, to Kitty's mother, "and I 'll let
you know my decision."
She had a long talk with father when he came
home. I don't think he approved of my going,
but after the twins were in bed and baby asleep,
she came into my room, and told me that she had
concluded to let me try it for a month, while she
and the children paid a visit to grandpa.
I could hardly believe my senses, for I never





supposed she would let me go, and I was wild with
delight. Kitty's mother is a perfect love," I de-
dared, and mother kissed me gently and left me.
In just a week, I began to be Kitty's mother's
little girl. My trunk was carried over to the big

house, and I kissed my mother,-my first mother
you know, and the twins, and carried the baby to
the carriage that was to take them to the station,
and after seeing it drive away, I followed Kitty to
my splendid new home.
I had never been in the house before. When I
had seen Kitty and her mother, it had always been
in the garden or the little summer-house near our
own home. That is where I read my composition
to them, and learned to think Kitty's mother per-
fection. But now I entered the tiled hall, and
walked through the elegant rooms on either side
of it. It just turned my head to think of living
Now we '11 go upstairs, and you shall see the
room that has been prepared for you," said my
Yes, mamma, said Mary Jane, tossing her
golden curls as she glode down the marble hall."
This I said out loud, but I intended to say only
" yes, mamma," the rest came out before I knew
it. You see, I was pretending I was in a book.

Kitty's mother laughed outright. You are the
most amusing child," said she; "but I should
think being called Mary Jane would take the poetry
out of anything."
"It does," said I, eagerly. I want to be called
May Jennie instead. Then I would be happy."
So May Jennie I became. In two or three
days, I almost forgot that I ever had been called
Marry J-ne at q1. My new mother was just ele-
_.*. n i .. ,nd there were no errands and no
i: 1 [.J il I :now just what to make of Kitty.
"h. .1: ,'i :, _L like me or any girl I knew.
When I played with her it
S always reminded me of the
!' i,,,, :' I day I was shut up in the
l y'Ii-.- -. J spare chamber, and made
believe that my image in
the glass was another little
girl and tried to play with
i 1 I'' l"l"' it. She would do just what
I I did, but she would never
do anything first. She did
n't care to play much, any-
way. Her mother said that
she was too delicate, and I
felt that I ought to be too
S_ delicate, too. At first, it
was great fun to pretend to
.be too feeble to move, and
-~ call a servant every time I
wanted anything; but I got
very tired of that sort of
i h ,-:i. i.. ,I..... One day I said to Kitty's mother:
Si _l..,,.iI h i 10o just go and splash around in
a mud-puddle as I used to do when I was Mary
Jane Hunt."
I thought she never would let me, on account of
my fine clothes, but she said I am afraid you can't
find a mud-puddle, there has been so little rain
lately: but you can tell Thomas to take the hose
and make one for you."
I could n't help laughing at this plan. I should
feel pretty cheap to do that. I think I '11 get a
book and read instead."
There," said she, that just proves my theory.
You never would have cared to do such things, if
your mother had not been so strict. The fact is,
she does n't know how to bring up children. Why,
my dear, how warm you look "
I suppose I did look warm. I felt mad." Why
should she go and talk in that way about my mother?
To be sure, I had complained about her to myself
when I was Mary Jane Hunt, and grumbled be-
cause she made me run errands, and amuse the
baby, and pick up threads off the carpet, but -
About this time I began to think it was very
queer I had received no letters from mother. It's




true I had not asked her to write to me, because 1
had n't thought anything about it then. I longed
to hear what they were doing at grandpa's. So
one day I sat down and wrote:

DEAR MOTHER: Why don't you write to me? I want to know if
the twins cry as much as usual, and if the baby is as cross now that
his tooth is through. I 'm having a splendid time.

Then this I scratched out and wrote instead:

This is a very handsome house indeed. Does grandpa let the
children ride old Whitey, and does Aunt Prue make many dough-
nuts? I can eat just as much cake as I want to, here; but they
don't have any doughnuts. I don't seewhy. Do write soon to your

When the answer came, it was a real short one.
Mother said the children had all gone huckle-
berrying,-(Oh don't I like to gohuckleberrying )-
and she never wrote a word about seeing me again.
I thought she would say when she was coming
home, and how glad she would be to see me when
the month was over. Could it be that she ex-
pected me to live with Kitty's mother always?
I sat right down and cried at the thought of it.
I made my eyes so red, that Kitty's mother
declared that I should receive no more letters.
It just upsets you," said she, and besides,
when a person adopts a child, she does n't expect
the relatives to meddle with it."
Meddle! I began to think I hated Kitty's
I told the truth when I wrote that I could have
all the cake I wanted, for Kitty and I used to have
lots of it. I don't believe it agreed with me, for
before that month was over I became real ill.
Now I knew why Kitty did n't care to play, and
preferred to loll all day on the lounge. I could n't
hold my head up, and I felt as cross as a bear. Oh,
how I did snap at people if they spoke to me !
Of course, I would not take any of the medicines
prescribed for me, for I never do until my mother
makes me. And Kitty's mother only laughed
when I flung them away. She did n't seem to try
to do anything to make me more comfortable; but
left me entirely in Eliza's hands. I began to feel
the value of the mother I had left. All day long
I cried for her, till that hateful Eliza said: Lor',
miss, I would n't be crying for her, she is n't half so
dlii..-ii as your new ma."
Oh dear, I did feel so mad and so sick, I could n't
think of anything half horrid enough to say to her.
I could only lie there and cry.
I suppose I must have been pretty sick. I know
I felt horrid. How I wished I was healthy Mary

Jane Hunt again, with the baby and the errands,
and the strict mother thrown in.
She is a hundred million times better than
Kitty's mother, after all," I sobbed to the pillow.
When the doctor came, and inquired for Miss
May Jennie, I screamed out that my name was
Mary Jane Hunt, and I suppose he must have
thought I was raving.
But Eliza explained that that was my real name,
and May Jennie only my new name I had taken,
and all about my coming there to live.
He was n't the regular family doctor, for he had
gone out of town, but I thought this one must be
just as good, and better, too, when he took my
hand and said: Oh, ho so that's the trouble, is
it? Well, Miss Mary Jane, we must get you back
to your own mother. That's the kind of medicine
you need." And so a telegram was dispatched
that very night to Mrs. Deborah Hunt, and the
next morning I was lying in her dear, kind arms.
I had to take my medicines regularly after that,
and I got well, but I think the reason was because

I I I I ,I ;" "
., l '


liii I .'l .

I had got back to my own mother again, and the
doctor thinks so, too.
And now, if any one wants to make me real mad,
they have only to call me May Jennie, or ask me
if I don't wish my mother was like Kitty's mother.






-- LI BANU, Sheik of
-- Alexandria, was uni-
versally beloved and
respected for his great
S riches and generous
Charities. But the
-Sheik was not a hap-
Spy man. Tenyears
before the beginning
of our story, be had
lost his only son, alad
twelve years old. It
was at the time when
Sthe French were wag-
ing war in Egypt,
under the leadership
of Napoleon. Ali Banu was a wise and prudent
man, but his sympathies were with his brethren
in the faith, and one day his son, Kairam, was
taken prisoner and held as a hostage of the Sheik's
good behavior.
Soon after, the French, or Franks, as they were
called, unexpectedly left the country, and, it was
supposed, carried Kairam with them.
Ali Banu was nearly broken-hearted, but he was
a pious Mussulman, and instead of wrapping him-
self in his gloom, he went about, though with sad
heart and downcast mien, doing good. Every
year, on the anniversary of his son's abduction, he
gave away much money to the poor, and freed
twelve of his slaves.
One day, a Dervish foretold that on the same
day of the year as that on which Kairam had been
lost, the lad would once again be found.
Henceforth, Ali Banu would always garnish his
house onthis sad day, invite his friends, and await
his long-yearned-for son. And upon the tenth
anniversary the following events occurred,
The guests were all assembled, and the group
of slaves who were to be freed sat upon a carpet
in the center of the great hall. After refreshments
had been handed about, the slaves, according to
custom, drew lots as to who should entertain the
guests with story-telling. The lot fell upon a
youth, who had attracted much attention by his
noble bearing and manly beauty. He had been
purchased at a great price a few days before, but
as he was at about the age at which Ali Banu's son
should have arrived, the Sheik gave him his free-
dom at this early day. He arose, and having
bowed low to the company, began as follows:

Oh, master! On the vessel of that Algerian
slave-trader from whose hands your generous
purse freed me some days since, was a young man,
of about my own age, who seemed out of place in
the slave's dress which he wore. He was called
Almansor, and as we passed a great deal of our
time together, I became familiar with his history.
Almansor, whose father was a man of note in
a large town in Egypt, had passed his youth in
happiness, surrounded by all the comfort which
wealth procures. His father had taken special
care with his education, and he had enjoyed the
instruction of a sage, of great reputation, who
taught him everything which it becomes a young
man of his position to know. Almansor was about
eleven years old, when the Franks came across the
sea and made war upon his people.
The boy's father must have been considered
a great enemy to the Franks, for one day they
burst into his house, seized upon his son, and car-
ried him away to their camp as a hostage.
"No harm happened to young Almansor among,
the Franks; he was treated well, as far as food,
drink, and clothing went, but his homesick prayers
and tears to be sent back to his father were in
vain; he was told that he must remain as a hos-
tage of his father's good-will.
"All at once, orders came for the troops to
march toward the coast, to re-embark and leave
the country. Almansor now expected to be liber-
ated, but he was obliged to embark with the army.
He was told that it had not been possible to send
him home from the place where they had em-
barked, and that if he had been left behind he
would have perished miserably; and they prom-
ised that if he was a good boy, he soon should see
his home again.
But the Franks did not keep their word, for
after many days' sailing, when they finally landed,
they were not in Egypt, but in France, and the
poor lad's heart sank within him. For two weeks
he marched with the army into the interior.
Finally, the army arrived at a great city, which was
the end of their march, and Almansor was handed
over to a doctor, who took him to his house.
The doctor obliged him first to put on Frank-
ish clothes, which were a poor exchange for the
flowing robes worn in Egypt. Then he was no
longer allowed to cross his arms over his breast,
and make the usual salutation of the believers; but
when he wanted to address any one, he was taught




to lift the detestable, stiff, black hat that all Franks
wear, and bow his head. Nor was he allowed to
sit with his legs crossed beneath him, as was the
custom at home; but he had to use high-legged
chairs, and let his feet hang down to the ground,
a position which cost him much discomfort. And
eating was a matter of no less difficulty; for every-
thing he ate he was obliged to convey to his mouth
on an implement of iron, as awkward as it was dan-
It is probable that he would have entirely for-
gotten his native tongue, but for the kindness of a
certain old Professor.
This old man was very learned, knew many of
the languages of the East, and was paid much
money by the Franks for teaching them in the
public schools. He was an intimate friend of the
doctor, and obtained permission for young Alman-
sor to visit his house twice a week and spend the
day. When, on these occasions, he arrived at the
Professor's residence, the old man would give him
a suit of Egyptian clothes to put on, and being
himself similarly attired, he would take him by the
hand and lead him to a great room, where all kinds
of Oriental trees and plants were growing in large
boxes, and where there were carpets spread for them
to sit upon, with soft and luxurious cushions, such
as Almansor had been used to have at home. A
servant in eastern dress would wait upon them
with sherbet and other eastern delicacies, while
another would stand beside his master with a dic-
tionary, to aid the. Professor when a word failed
him; and thus they would spend the afternoon,
ci, -'.;; ; the beautiful eastern tongues that he and
young Almansor were in common acquainted with.
My poor comrade had lived in this way five
years or more in the great city, when a circum-
stance happened which greatly influenced his
future. These Franks had chosen for their Em-
peror that leader with whom Almansor had so
often spoken in Egypt, when he was first taken to
the camp. Almansor was not aware of this fact, for
he had only seen the coronation processions and
ceremonies from a distance, and had no idea that
so young a man as he remembered this leader to
have been could rise in so short a time to so emi-
nent a position. But one day, as he was going
across one of the bridges of the city, he saw a man
dressed in a plain uniform such as soldiers wear in
that country, leaning on the parapet, and looking
thoughtfully over into the water. No sooner did
Almansor's eye fall upon this man, than he recog-
nized him as an officer of the Franks who had been
very kind to him in Egypt, and who, he had always
felt sure, would have sent him home if he had
known of his detention after the embarkation of the
army. So the youth at once approached the man,

crossed his arms upon his breast, anc addressed hinm
by the name he had gone by in the army. 'Salaam.
alaicum, Petit-Caporal!' said he.
"The soldier turned about with an air of much
surprise, looked at the lad, bethought himself a
moment, and then exclaimed:
Heavens! is this possible? You here, Alman-
sor! How is your father? How go matters in.
Egypt? What has brought you here ?'
Poor Almansor could not restrain his emotion..
He began to weep bitterly, and said to the man:
'So you do not know what your wicked country-
men have done to me? Don't you know that I.
have not seen the land of my fathers for many
weary years ?'
'I hope,' replied the man, and his brow
clouded up, 'I hope they did not carry you away
from Egypt with my army, Almansor ?'
'Why, to be sure they did,' answered Alman-
sor, amid his tears. 'On the day your soldiers
embarked, I saw Egypt for the last time; since
when I have been servant to a hard-hearted doctor.
But, look you here, Petit-Caporal,' he continued,
and a smile of hope broke through the gloom upon
his face; it is very lucky that I have found you;
here. You will help me, will you not ?'
"The man smiled, and asked in what manner
he could help the boy.
"' Why, don't you see,' said little Almansor,
'I cannot ask any money of you, for I know youth
are poor, you wear such plain clothes; but you.
are a soldier, and, I dare say, you know some of
the officers of this Emperor the Franks have
chosen. Now, could n't you say a good word for-
me to some of them, so that I may get sent back
to Egypt ? My father will pay you handsomely for
it, I know.'
Come with me, then,' said the soldier, and
perhaps I can aid you at once.'
S'What, now?' cried poor Almansor, fright-
ened. 'Oh, no! I can't come now, else I should
be late, and the doctor would beat me; I must
hurry and get back home.'
The soldier seemed touched by the boy's sad
story. 'Never mind the doctor,' said he; 'come
with me, and be of good heart; the doctor shall
not hurt you again.' With which words he took
Almansor by the hand, and led him through many
streets ; and although his heart beat fast when he
thought of his cruel master, there was an air of
assurance in the soldier's face which comforted
him not a little. But he could not explain why
every one bowed so low to the soldier, and so many
would stand still and gaze after them. He spoke
of this to his companion, but he only laughed.
At last, they arrived at a beautiful palace, into
which the man led Almansor.




Do you live here, Petit-Caporal?' asked the
'Yes, I live here,' answered lie, 'and I will
take you to my wife.'
Oh, what a beautiful place I I suppose the
Emperor gives you some rooms here, does n't he,
Petit-Caporal ?'
Yes, it is the Emperor who lets me live here,'
said the man, and led him into the palace. They
mounted a broad flight of steps, entered a large
anteroom, and thence proceeded along a beauti-
fully decorated hall, to a small but richly furnished
apartment, where, seated on a divan, was a lady.
'The soldier said a few words, in a foreign tongue,
to her, whereupon they both indulged in a hearty
laugh, and then the lady moved to Almansor, and
asked him, in the Frankish language, many ques-
tions about Egypt, which the boy answered with
alacrity and intelligence. Finally, the soldier
interrupted them: Perhaps, after all, Almansor,'
said he, we may as well go and see the Emperor,
now, and I will speak for you, myself.'
Almansor was quite startled at the idea of see-
dng the Emperor in his present shabby guise, but
.he bethought himself of his wretchedness, and the
chance of once again seeing his home. I will go
with you,' he said. 'But say, Petit-Caporal, what
must I do when I see him? Must I kneel and
touch the ground with my forehead, as they do in
the East?'
Both the soldier and his wife laughed immod-
.erately at the question, and assured little Alman-
sor that no such prostration was at all necessary.
But what does he look like? Has he a long
'beard, and stern, flashing eyes? And does he
look awfully grand and majestic ? asked Alman-
sor, trembling at the idea of seeing the Emperor
face to face.
I'll leave you to guess who he is, from his
looks,' replied the soldier, taking him by the hand.
'But I will tell you how you may recognize him.
Everybody will take off his hat in the Emperor's
presence, while he alone remains covered.'
"With these words, he led the boy toward a
saloon, where a morning business reception was
'being held. The nearer they got to the place, the
faster poor Almansor's heart beat, and his knees
smote together with excitement and dread. A
servant threw open the door of the hall, and they
entered. There stood some fifty officers, all splen-
,didly dressed, with stars and broad ribbons on their
breasts, and Almansor thought it strange that his
companion, who was dressed so plainly, should be
allowed to be among these great personages. All
had their heads uncovered, and Almansor began to
4ook about for one with his hat on, for this must be
the Emperor. But in vain; every one carried his

hat in his hand,-the Emperor could not be among
them. He turned to ask the soldier when the
Emperor would arrive, when, lo the Petit-Caporal
had not removed his hat from his head !
Almansor was stupefied. He regarded his
companion for a moment with a vacant stare, while
a kindly smile stole over the latter's face; when
suddenly remembering that in his excitement he
himself had retained his own cap, he hastily pulled
it off, made a low bow, and said: 'Salaam, alai-
cum, Petit-Caporal! You are the only one who
is covered-tell me, are you the Emperor ?'
You have guessed right,' answered his com-
panion; 'and, moreover, I am your friend. Do,
not think you were brought over here with my
knowledge or consent. The first ship that sails
from here to Egypt shall take you home to your
Thus spoke the Emperor, and Almansor fell
down before him, kissed his hand, and begged his
forgiveness for not recognizing him at once, saying
that he could scarcely have thought from his looks
that he was the Emperor.
That's true,' replied the Emperor, with a
laugh. In our country the head of the nation
has not his rank emblazoned in his face and man-
ners.' Almansor retired with a servant, and from
that day lived in the palace, in joyful anticipation
of his return to the home of his ancestors. He
revisited the old Professor once or twice, but never
again saw the hard-hearted Doctor. After the lapse
of several weeks, the Emperor sent for him and told
him that a ship was lying at anchor, on board of
which he would be sent home. Almansor was be-
side himself for joy. A few hours sufficed to make
his preparations, and with a heart full of thankful-
ness, and boxes laden with presents, he took
leave of the Petit-Caporal, and journeyed toward
the sea.
But it so happened that in those days another
Frankish tribe, who lived on an island in the great
sea, were at war with the Emperor, and captured
all of his ships they could find at sea. And on the
sixth day of the voyage the vessel upon which
Almansor was sailing was shot at by a cruiser of
the Britons (so is this other tribe called), and com-
pelled to surrender. The crew were placed upon a
smaller vessel, which followed in the wake of the
cruiser, and the captured ship was set on fire.
But the sea is no more secure than the desert,
where caravans are so often attacked by rob-
bers: a pirate from Tunis captured the smaller
vessel, which had been separated from the large
one by a storm, and putting all on board in the
hold of his own ship, carried them to Algeria, and
sold them into slavery.
To be sure, Almansor did not fall into as hard




slavery as the Christians, for he was a good Mussul-
man; but yet all hopes of again seeing his home
and his father were dashed by this new calamity.
He lived in Algiers, as gardener to a rich man, for
five long years. At the end of this time his owner
died without heirs, his property and slaves were
sold, and Almansor was again cast into the hands
,of a slave-trader. About this time the trader
hired a vessel, and placing his slaves, Almansor
among the number, on board, sailed from Algeria.
It was in Almansor's own country that the slave-

It is your son, Kairam Almansor; for you are
he who bought him "
"Allah Allah 1 A miracle A wonder cried
the guests, and crowded about the prostrate youth,
while the Sheik, bereft of speech, stood intently
gazing into the face which was lifted up toward
My old friend, Mustapha," said he, at last, to
a venerable dervish, who stood near him, before
my eyes there hangs a mist of tears, and I cannot
trace his features. Tell me, is this my son ? "


rtrader determined to sell his cargo; it was the
.slave-market of his native town in which Almansor
was offered for sale, and it was his own, his
beloved father, who purchased him "
Sheik Ali Banu had listened with rapt attention
-and rising excitement to this strange tale; his
breast heaved, his eye glistened, and he was often
,on the point of interrupting the narrative; but at
iits termination the youth could no longer restrain
his emotion, and weeping for very joy, he fell at
ithe Sheik's feet, exclaiming:
VOL. VII.-33.

The old man stepped up, looked long and earn-
estly at the youth, who was now standing, laid
one hand upon his forehead and the other on his
shoulder, saying:
Kairam, what was the proverb that in that
luckless day when you were carried into the camp
of the Franks, I gave you to remember ?"
My beloved teacher!" answered the youth,
pressing the hand of the aged dervish to his heart;
"it ran thus: 'If a man but love Allah, and have
a good conscience, he will never be alone, even in




the desert of misery; for there go with him two
companions, who steadfastly walk at his side.' "
The old man lifted up his eyes, and led the youth
to the Sheik:
Take him, Sheik Ali Banu," said he; "as
surely as you have mourned him ten long years, so
surely is he your son !"
The Sheik's heart overflowed with joy and con-
tent; he scarcely could remove his eyes from the
face of his newly found son, whose features grew to
him every moment more like those of the young
wife he had loved, and he well remembered how
Kairam had resembled his mother. All present
joined him in his rejoicings; for the Sheik was so
universally beloved, that each guest felt as if he
had a large share in the father's joy.

Kairam explained that he had not made himself
known immediately on his arrival at his old home,
because he had heard of the prophecy of the old
dervish, and of his father's custom of remembering
the anniversary of his son's loss, and so had
thought it well to wait until that day to tell his
story. Mirth and feasting once more rang through
the halls of Ali Banu's house. Again and again
the youth was entreated to tell his story in all its
details, and each one praised the old Professor and
the Emperor, and all who had taken an interest in
Kairam's welfare. The company remained together
till late in the night, and when at last they sepa-
rated the Sheik presented each friend with a costly
gift by which he might remember the happy day
of the return of his only son.



SWISH to tell the boys about
a game I learned to play
S when I was a boy. I hope it
will not be thought a very
rough game, for if it is played
S-fairly there is a great deal of
-' fun in it. It is a game played
with kites, by Mexicans and
Cubans. It was a bright afternoon in March when
I first found out about it. I took my kite and went
out to fly it. I crossed the San Pedro Creek to a
hill west of the town of San Antonio, Texas, where
I then lived.
There were dozens of other kites flying there.
In fact, it was a favorite place for kite-cutting, but
I knew nothing of that then. I had been in that
part of Texas some time, and picked up enough
Spanish to get along pretty well with the neighbor-
ing Mexicans, who all speak that language, but as
it had not been "kite-time since I came I knew
nothing of cutters."
I soon had my kite high above all the others.
The other fellows were running about a good deal,
but I thought that was because they did not put
up their kites high enough to catch a steady wind.
Presently a Mexican boy whom I knew came
toward me with his kite about twenty yards up
in the air.
Tiene uisted navajas" (have you any knives) ?
he sang out as soon as he came within hearing.
I thought he wanted to borrow my knife, as I did

not notice he had said "knives," so I said "yes."
Just then I caught sight of a kite which had
broken its string, as I then th..,i _l. and I was so
much interested in watching it fall that I forgot
all about my Mexican.
When I looked at him again he had got, as the
sailors say, "dead to windward" of me, with his
kite a short distance over my string. Suddenly
letting out a few feet of cord and running side-
ways, he brought the tail of his kite down across
my string, and gave a quick pull on his own,
which caused his kite to rise rapidly, dragging its
tail across my string.
I had watched all these movements without an
idea of what he meant by them, and was greatly
astonished to see my string come in two as if it had
been cut with a sharp knife, and my kite go sailing
off with the wind.
I thought my Mexican friend must have had
something to do with it, but I could not see just
how. I had no time, however, to wait for expla-
nations, but started off after my kite, which was
carried so far that I had a run of nearly a mile
before I recovered it.
As I was winding up my string, Alfred, one of
my school-mates, a boy who had been born in the
town and knew all the customs, came up and said,
with a laugh:
So you got cut, did you? You were foolish
to let your kite go up so high."
"What do you mean?" I asked, in surprise.




"Did that Mexican cut my string? How did he
do it, then ? "
Of course he cut it. Have n't you cutters on
your kite? "
Cutters on my kite I exclaimed. What
are cutters ?"
"Why Don't you know ? Cutters are things
made of glass, you know. You fasten them on
your kite's tail and cut other fellows' strings with
I suppose I showed by my looks that I was con-
siderably puzzled, for Alfred added :
"Wind up your string and come back where the
other fellows are and I will show you. It was not
fair in Santiago to cut you if you had on no cut-
ters. A kite without cutters is considered out of
the game."
When we reached the Mexican boy, Alfred trans-
lated my demand to know why he had cut my
Why," he answered, I asked him if he had
on cutters, and he said yes.' "
"No, he didn't," I said. "He asked me if I
had a knife and I said 'yes,' and was waiting for
him to come and get it when he cut my kite-
When I had got this far I noticed that Alfred was
laughing. He said a few words in Spanish to the
Mexican, and he began to laugh too. I anxiously
waited for Alfred to tell me the joke.
"You did not understand," he said. When
Santiago said tiene used navajas (have you any
knives), he meant have you any cutters on your
kite? When you told him 'yes,' you declared
yourself ready to fight, and he had a right to cut
you if he could."
I soon had my kite up again, and, while we were
sitting watching it, Alfred explained all about cut-
ters to me. His explanation must have been good,
for I soon became one of the most expert cutter-
makers in the town.
As we sat and talked, several boys came up with
their kites and cried out to us, "Tiene used nava-
jas," or Got on any cutters," according to their
nationality. When they found that we had none,
they always went off, though I know their hearts
must have ached at the sight of my tempting kite
so high up that I would have had no chance to
defend myself.
But now I must tell you how cutting is done,
and the best way for me to tell you will be to
describe one of my cutting-kites.
This veteran war-kite was a six-sided one, about
two feet and a half long. The frame was made
of thin pieces of southern cane, and while very
light was very strong. This was covered with
paper cambric. Paper would have been lighter,

but this was a cutting-kite, and one fall into a bush
would ruin a paper kite, but would not hurt one of
cloth. The tail was made of pieces of soft cloth,
about one inch wide and eight inches long, securely
knotted in the middle to a strong twine string.
The end of the tail was finished by a neat tassel.
I took great pride in this kite, so I had each foot
or two of her tail made of a different color. Just
above the tassel was the place where I put the best
set of cutters I could get. Half-way up the tail
was another set. Some boys would have many
more sets of cutters, but I always thought two sets
were enough; in fact, I often only used the set at
the end of the tail.
These cutters were made of glass. I would get
a thick glass bottle and a case-knife. The bottle
was broken off below the neck, and then I would
begin to chip off the glass by tapping the bottle
with the back of the knife. Pretty soon off would
come a long, keen splinter of glass, thick and
strong on the back, which had been the outside of
the bottle, but as sharp as a razor on the inside.
This was a cutter. They were usually shaped like
a scythe-blade. Some of the boys made them by
tapping the bottle against a smooth stone, but I
had better luck with a knife.
When I had made as many of these cutters as I
needed, or had used up all the bottles I could get,
I would go home to mount them. This was the
hardest part of the work. I took four short pieces
of reed, shaved so thin that they would bend easily,
and put them together lengthwise, with two cut-
ters between each two, at right angles to each other
and to the reeds. Each cutter would then point in
a different direction. The pieces of reed were then
wrapped with string, so that they would hold the
cutters firmly; and where there was any danger of
the string coming against the edge of a cutter, a
little raw cotton was used to protect it. This made
what we called a set of cutters." Then this set
had to be fastened to the tail of the kite in such a
way, that when the tail was dragged across a kite's
string there would be no danger of the string slip-
ping between the pieces of reed and the tail of the
kite. If it did this, instead of cutting the string
your kite would soon be hanging from it, head
down, perfectly helpless. I used to manage this
by putting the upper ends of my reeds between the
ends of one of the pieces of cloth that formed the
tail, and tying all smoothly down to the reeds.
Now you know how the cutters are made and
fastened on, the next thing is to tell you how to
use them.
With a good, steady breeze, you must put your
kite up about twenty yards, and have your ball of
string so arranged that you can let out or pull in,
as you wish. Your object is to bring your kite's




tail across the string of your opponent, and so cut A certain bend of the creek was usually the
it, letting his kite fly off. You have the right to farthest point to windward that we could reach in
cut every other kite that carries cutters, and you our "kite-ground." Sometimes the cutting would
are fair game for any of them; but you are bound be fast and furious there. It was thought a great
in honor, of course, not to interfere with those honor to keep your kite flying there, when every
who you know are not armed, other one was down.


Your best plan is to get what the sailors call
" the weather-gage" of the other kite. If the
wind is blowing from your kite to his string, you
have him at your mercy, for you can make your
kite fall to his by letting out string. If you are
to leeward of a kite, with the wind blowing to you
past it, you can hardly hope to get at it.

On one occasion, I had been very lucky; and,
after cutting half a dozen kites and having several
narrow escapes myself, only mine and one other
were left. We were both on the bank of the creek,
and the only chance left for one to cut the other,
was to get one kite over the other's string, either
by making the kite go straighter up, or by reach-




ing up and putting one string over the other. He
had a little more string out on his kite than I had,
but he was taller. I ran off down the bank, and
he followed me. He thought that he would cut
me soon, for there was a high fence that would
compel me either to stop or to turn off and give
him the chance he wanted. But I had a plan of
my own. As I ran, I gradually pulled in about
thirty feet of string and coiled it in my right
When I reached the fence, I turned to lee-
ward a dozen feet, and then, when my enemy was
not more than five yards off, I wheeled round,
threw my ball of string over his string, caught it
on the other side, let loose the string in my hand,
and started back, pulling in with both hands. Be-
fore my adversary knew what I was doing, his kite
was cut, and I was alone on the battle-field, my
kite soaring up in triumph.
Sometimes we would make up sides and have a
regular battle. One of these, between a dozen
boys on each side, was very exciting. We would
agree not to go out of a certain field; but there
would be more leaning over fences and throwing
up of balls than you ever saw in all your life.
Besides cutting kites, we had other less warlike
sports with them. A favorite one of these was to
send up a kite, at night, with a paper lantern on it.
Some of the boys would put the lantern on the end
of the kite's tail; others would tie it in front where
the string was fastened to the kite. I liked the end
of the tail best, because there the lantern was less
apt to get tangled with the tail.
Hummers were another thing that we put on our
kites. A hummer was a thin piece-of wood, bent
like a bow, holding a piece of silk ribbon, stretched
tight, instead of a bow-string. It was fastened to
the upper part of the kite, so that the ribbon would
catch the wind. You would be surprised to hear
how much noise they make. Sometimes we would
have two or three hummers of different sizes, one
within the other, and the mingling of the different
tones made a curious effect.

This kite is different from the Mexican kite, and
the knife is a more effective and costly weapon.
The sport in Cuba is not confined to boys alone,
but youths and men take part in this exciting and
health-giving pastime.



Take two pieces of whalebone four inches long,
whittle them to a point at each end (see diagram),
and, inserting a piece of cord at each end, tie
The knife, made of apen-knife blade or fiece of
clock-sfring, ground to the right shape, is placed
between the whalebones and lashed firmly with fine
brass, copper, or artificial flower-maker's wire, and
the whole is bound together with wire or silk. To
the lower end of knife add one yard of tail (heavier
than the rest). This serves to keep the knife from


entangling its own tail. The knife is now com-
You now know how to make different kinds of
" cutters and how to play this game; but always
be very careful never to "cut" a kite that is not
armed like your own, and ready for the fray.






LONG back in the far-off ages, when low lay the might of Rome,
When the Crescent had not yet risen, and Mohammed had not yet come,
A knight crossed the desert of Egypt, riding slowly at close of day,
His good horse drooping and weary, as he toiled his trackless way.
Just then, far over the sand-hills,-for daylight was almost done,-
He saw three palm-trees standing dark on the rim of the setting sun,
And his horse, with a joyful quiver, threw his weary head up high,
For he sniffed the hope through his nostrils, that his master saw with the eye.
On over the shifting ridges, they strained and struggled their best,
To the water under the date-trees, and the grass where they longed to rest.
Under those trees lived a hermit, who, many a year ago,
Had shaken off the dust of his feet on a world of evil and woe;
And into this haunted desert, where no servant of Christ had trod,
Had come to pray for the world he had left, and to dwell alone with his God.

Kindly the hermit received them,-cool water and dates and corn,
He set before weary man and beast, and he bade them rest till morn.
But himself all night kept vigil,-kept vigil and wept and prayed;
All night Sir George heard him crying, Dear Lord, help my Christian maid,-
The only creature that loves me Ah, God so pleasant and good !
When late she was here to see me, I made her a cross of wood, -
Two poor little sticks together, just tied by a sackcloth thread;
But she knows the blessed story of Him who lives and was dead.
I put the cross in her bosom; I told her there it must stay,
For fear that the heathen should find it and scorn it and fling it away.
My Sabra! My Sabra! My princess That thou art dead or distrest,
I know, my love, for thy little white dove came flying into my breast.
I know that the dear Lord sent it as a sign I must wrestle in prayer;
Oh, God make the cross or temptation no more than the child can bear!"

All night he prayed; and when early dawn began to redden the sky,
The knight, at the moment of parting, besought him to tell him why,
And who was the Christian princess, so fair and so good, in distress,
And how she came to honor the name of our Lord in Heathenesse.

She is the king's own daughter; she dwells in yon city of On,
Whose porphyry columns and golden gates are lit by the rising sun.
There reigns the king,-her father,-there blossoms in heathen shade
My Lily, my Rose of Sharon, my Sabra, my Christian maid !
Nine weeks ago a dreadful curse on the king and his people fell;
I know not whether 't was sent from God, or whether it came from hell.
A ravening dragon, with blood-shot eyes and a mouth that vomited flame,
With gaping jaws and sharp-curved claws, from the slime of the river came.
He raged and ravaged the growing crops, the barley, the rye, and the wheat,
Tore the grazing kine, uprooted the vine,-for he spoiled what he could not eat.
The people fled, destruction spread, the king, from his royal city,
Sent nobles great, in splendor and state, to implore the dragon's pity,
And the way to show (if he would but go) to the lands of some other king,-
To Goshen fair, or Nubia where soft rains make the valleys sing.


'Not so, my lords,' growled the dragon, 'in these reeds I mean to abide;
I like my lair, and I like my fare, by your ancient river's side;
But if you will bring me a maiden each day,-rosy, and tender, and good,-
And tie her fast where the lightning blast has stricken yon oak in the wood,
I will take your maid, as tribute paid, and refrain from other spoil,
And your land may be at peace for me, and your peasants resume their toil.'
So every day a virgin is torn from her mother's embrace,
Each noon a fresh, fair victim they lead to the fatal place,-
Lead to the place and leave her to horrors that none may know,
While the city's pent-up wrath bursts forth in bitter pleading and woe."

How came the little white pigeon to fly to the hermit's breast,
And bear him a sign, from the Lord divine, that his Christian maid was distress?

That eve there had risen a wailing from every house in the city,
The mothers flocked to the palace gates .and implored their king for pity.
The king on his throne sat weeping. 0 women at last cried he,
Do you believe I have hardened my heart till your grief is nothing to me?
All know how I love my Sabra. But what other thing can be done?
Must we let the monster ravage and waste till he levels the walls of On ?"
No woman made him an answer. Only more wailing and woe.
Then a loved voice sent a thrill to his heart: a child's voice, tender and low.
0 father The wondrous story of One on a throne I ken
Who forsook all His power and glory, to perish for other men,
And I think if a royal maiden be given the dragon to-morrow,
The Lord above, in pity and love, may send us help in our sorrow."
She stood at the edge of the dais, and she strained her hands to her breast,
Where, hidden away, the rude cross lay, that the hermit had made and blessed.
I offer myself to the dragon," she said, in the name of my Lord who died,
That these may be absolved through me, and the curse be satisfied.
O father, dear! If all now here will pray to Christ in Glory,
And you let me do as He prompts me to when I think of His wondrous story,
I seem to see, by an inward light, how blessed my death may be.
O father, spare those shrinking hearts, and visit the curse on me!"
No cried her father, "Never !" But the Chief Priest's voice arose.
Fling a nesting pigeon into the air, and watch which way she goes.
If she fly North, or South, or West, this thing may not be done,
But IT SHALL if the dove fly straight to the East, in line from the setting sun."

They brought a brooding dove from her nest. The tumult and :.0,. ceased.
She soared; she circled thrice in the air; then winged her flight to the East.

Who pricks so fast through the golden gates? Who seeks the ivory throne?
Where, in sackcloth-mourning his daughter's fate-now groans the king of On?
Who humbly craves permission to lay his lance in rest,
And go to the ground where she stands fast bound, with her hands still clasped on her breast?
All dread to anger the dragon; but they bid the knight good speed;
And swift from the ground, he springs with a bound to the back of his steel-clad steed.
Not yet to the wood he rideth, but down by the flowing tide,
Where dwells a caulker cunning in boats, in a hut by the river side.
" Am I obeyed?" the good knight said, as he galloped along the shore,
And rapped with the point of his glittering lance on the caulker's humble door.


The lance they pass through a pitchy mass that looks like a human fist,
Ugly and black, like a giant's hand, lopped short from a giant's wrist.
Then high his spear did the knight uprear, and fast he rode to the wood,
Where under the blasted oak, close bound, the martyr princess stood.
She heard the tramp of his horse's hoofs; she deemed the dragon 'drew near.
She pressed her cross to her beating heart, but she showed no sign of fear.
" In the name of our Holy Savior, who died for thy sins and mine,"
Cried the voice of the knight, as he came in sight, I bear thee help divine;

For I know, sweet fellow-Christian, by the wonders wrought to-day,
That I bring thee good deliverance,-and shall the dragon slay."
She heard his words; her heart beat fast; she gazed at his lion-crest,
And joy and surprise came into her eyes, as she saw the Cross on his breast.
But loud through the wood came a roaring before they could utter more,
And fiercely out of the brushwood the furious dragon tore.
" Presumptuous knight! Out of my sight! Dare trouble no prey of mine.
Get hence For know, on no pretense may mortal see me dine !"
"I challenge thee, my gauntlet see! Vile reptile, take thy stand!"
The thing he bore from his lance he tore, and poised it in his hand.




And, as the monster gaped his jaws, he, with good aim and true,
Into their midst the sticky mass of pitch and oakum threw.
The furious dragon leaped with rage. His teeth stuck fast together.
He lost the power to use his fangs. Sir George Sir George forever!
With skill and might on came the knight, his good horse swerved and quivered;
His stout lance struck on the monster's hide; and with the blow it shivered.
A muffled roar, like waves on a shore, from the dragon's throat there came.
He reared his head; his nostrils spread; they snorted living flame.
Into his horse's heaving sides Sir George the rowels prest,
And urged him, till he seemed to stand close under the dragon's breast.
Then, ere the curved and cruel claws or man or steed could harm,
The knight uprose, and dealt three blows, with the strength of his good right arm.
One spot there is in a dragon's throat,-one spot,-and only one,-
Where a deadly thrust may do its worst. The dragon dropped like a stone.
Blood gushed from his throat, like a rushing stream when river freshets are high;
Like a prisoned wave in a fissured cave, it spouted up to the sky.
And Sabra sank at the foot of the oak, all faint at the reptile's blood.
But her champion raised her swift to his horse, and rode from the darkening wood.

Watchman! Who comes cried the king of On; and his voice his anguish showed.
No man, my lord," was the watchman's word; "all's quiet along the road."
Watchman! What comes? "A rising dust I see in the distance now;
A little dust,-and I see a horse ." "His master is slain, I trow."
I see a knight on the steel-clad horse ." "He has escapedd the wood in fear:.
Ho, porters look to the city gates, for the dragon will soon be here !"
I see the knight, and he waves his sword: a maiden lies on his arm .
I '11 follow the faith of the Christian knight, if he bring her safe from harm."
I see her now; but her robe of snow is draggled and red with blood .
Alas! alas For he rode too late,-too late he entered the wood."
Nay,-nay my liege, for she waves her arm! I see a cross in her hand."
Now, God be praised,-the Christian's God,-and this be a Christian land !"

He bore her in through the golden gates. Too happy to speak she lies
Close to the breast of her father pressed, and gazes into his eyes.
And the mother dove sits cooing love, with two eggs under her breast,
For the hermit gray, at the close of day, has brought her back to her nest.
Now round him, eager and fervent, flock crowds who beg him to preach
Of the wondrous Christian story the maid would have died to teach.
And hundreds (yesterday Pagans) to-day God's praises are singing,
And into the river, to reptiles and fish, their household idols are flinging.
And Sabra has seen her father count his glory and crown but dross,
As down in the river lowly he took the sign of the cross;
Now thousands out of the city flocked to look at the monster dead,
And the burghers buried the dragon lest a plague should arise and spread.
St. George became patron of England: the master of English knights.
There the queen bears his cross on her bosom: there brave men wear it in fights.
No honor more great in that Christian state can be paid to a hero this day,
Than to give him the right to the cross of the knight who did the dragon slay.


IN the great annual art exhibition of France, the
Paris Salon, a picture by Henry Bacon, an Ameri-
can, attracted a great deal of attention last season.
Many lingered before it to admire the fine skill of
the painter, and because it was known that the
figures in the group were actual likenesses of young
American artists and writers. But perhaps a
greater number were attracted by the subject
itself, so full of mournful interest.
Through the kindness of Mr. Bacon, we are en-
abled to give you a good engraving of the picture.
It is a sad scene to present to our happy young
readers, but sometimes it is well to contemplate sad
scenes, and rest in the shadows for a moment.
Few persons excepting those who have had the
experience of witnessing a burial at sea, know
how much more solemn and impressive such a
service is than a funeral upon land.
It is not necessary, on the ocean, to carry the
dead body of a friend or relative to some distant
cemetery or grave-yard. A great cemetery, large

enough to contain the bodies of all the people in
the world, is beneath the feet of those who must
attend to the burial, and all that is necessary to do
is to perform the proper religious services, and
then to gently drop the corpse to the bottom of
the great ocean.
With a heavy weight at its feet, to make it sink
quickly, it goes down, and down, and down, and is
forever lost to the sight of human beings.
There is no mark to show the place of the watery
grave,-no tombstone, no grassy mound; nothing
but the same tossing, heaving waves that toss and
heave for hundreds of miles on every side.
But, although the man who dies at sea is buried
deeper than any one for whom a grave was ever
dug on earth, and although the exact spot of his
burial is lost forever as the ship moves on, his
body is of as little worth, and just as useless,
and his soul is just as immortal, as those of the
men who lie beneath the green sod of any grave-
yard in any land.





(See Frontiesiece.)



THAT Friday had been looked forward to, as all
such days must be, by the academy school-boys
with mingled feelings of fear and hope.
Fear of the examination, hope of getting through
it fairly well, and that it would not be a very long
day after all.
At the academy a good deal of tribulation was
caused by what Bill Young and Kyle Wilbur
declared was: Just the meanest kind of trick."
Instead of calling up the boys in the order of their
names on the roll-book, which always had been
done before, beginning with A and on to Z, their
names were written on slips of paper and folded up,
one by one, and tumbled together in a box.
Then the teacher of the class picked up one
paper, just as it came, and read the name on it,
and the boy with that name had to begin.
"Is n't it rough ? said Bill Young, but, before
he could say more, his name was called out and
he had to go forward.
That was in geography, and Bil. was better
posted in that than in almost anything else.
Indeed, if the examining teacher had stuck to
the text-book, and asked him the questions in the
printed form, Bill might possibly have come off
with credit to himself. As it was, he did fairly well
until he was asked:
"What is the boundary line between North and
South America? "
The Ohio river," said Bill, without a moment's
hesitation, and he was not a little flustered by the
laugh that followed.
He hit the mark again once or twice, however, and
then came the question: "Where is the equator ?"
Bill knew, and he was as prompt as lightning,
in spite of the nervous condition he was in.
Right in the middle of the map "
"That will do, Master Young," said the exam-
iner. "You may take your seat." The teacher
picked up another slip of paper, and read : "Mas-
ter Kyle Wilbur."
Poor Kyle! He had heard all the laughter at
his friend's expense, and it had not at all improved
his condition for his trial. He arose to his feet
with a dim wish in his mind that he could see
Piney Hunter's pet heifer making a charge on the
academy "faculty," but when he was merely asked:
" What is Great Britain ? he said, quite correctly:
" A large island near the coast of France."

"Not a doubt of that," remarked the exam-
iner, "but how is it separated from the United
States? "
"By the Revolutionary War and the Declara-
tion of Independence."
"Well, yes; but the Atlantic ocean has some-
thing to do with it, has it not ? "
"No, sir," said Kyle; "it does n't keep them
from holding on to Canada."
He felt that he was getting adrift somehow, and
the brindled heifer came to his mind again just as
the examiner recovered from sharp spell of cough-
ing, and asked him: "Who were the human
inhabitants of this continent at the time of its
discovery ?"
Of course he knew. He was sure he ought to
be able to answer that question, but the right
words were slow in coming. He looked at the
ceiling and hesitated just an instant, and then he
heard the voice of Roxy Hunter, prompting him,
in a loud whisper, from the front seat where she
sat between Mr. Sadler and Aunt Keziah:
"Pilgrim Fathers, Kyle, Pilgrim Fathers!" And
Kyle mechanically repeated it after her:
"Pilgrim Fathers."
And then the laugh was louder than it had been
over Bill Young's reply to the equator question.
"That will do, Master Wilbur. The young
ladies in the audience will please show no favor-
I can recite the whole of it," whispered Roxy
to Mr. Sadler, "but I don't believe Kyle Wilbur
When the bell called them in, after recess, the
class in algebra was the first one examined. It
was a large one and the largest room in the
academy was a little too small to hold both the
scholars and their anxious friends.
Piney thought he had never seen anything wear
quite so threatening an expression as did the great
blackboard which covered one side of that room.
It seemed to say : Here I am, stupids! I've got
And just then the academy principal himself
held up a slip of paper and read, in a loud, sonorous
voice: "Master Richard Hunter!"
All the peonies in Aunt Keziah's tub were
hardly so red as their namesake's face when he
walked forward and picked up his piece of chalk.
Another slip of paper was given to him, with


(A Farm-house Story.)



the problem on it, which he was expected to work
out before that crowd, on that awful blackboard.
For almost a minute it seemed to him as if he
never before in all his life had seen any such letters
or figures as those. Some of them stood for
"plus and some for minus," and there was a
hint of that dreadfully ridiculous and impossible
thing a square root."
"There never was one," said Piney to himself,
as he stared at the paper, but somehow the marks
and signs were beginning to look more and more
like old neighbors and acquaintances. Somewhere
or other, he had seen those things before.
He knew very well that his mother and Aunt
Keziah and the rest were watching him anxiously.
He could feel their eyes on the back of his head,
and he would not have turned around for anything.
"I declare," he suddenly said to himself, "if it
is n't the very problem I had such a fight with, the
other night. Why, it's just the freshest thing in
the whole book. I 've got it on my finger ends!"
His heart gave a greatjump, and the blackboard
itself seemed to put on a more cheerful expression
of countenance as Piney's piece of chalk began to
skip along over its surface. He worked with an
almost nervous rapidity and his mother turned and
looked very proudly in Aunt Keziah's face.
Roxy whispered to Mr. Sadler: "It's just like
Piney. He '11 use up all the chalk."
Not quite that. But he solved the problem.
It must have been a little tiresome to Mr. Sadler,
and he deserved credit for sitting it out. Uncle
Liph himself was not half so patient, and Grand-
father Hunter did not come back at all after the
noon recess. Bi did, however; that is, he managed
to come in time to hear Piney recite in grammar.
As for Greek, and all that sort of thing, it had not
yet got into that academy.
There were to be prizes, but they were not to
be given out until the close of the exhibition, next
day, and as soon as Piney's last class was dis-
missed, he and his friends set out for home.


THAT evening, Piney took a whole boat-load of
his visitors for a moonlight ride on the lake. Roxy
and Susie were allowed to go, but Chub was put
to bed in spite of a very vigorous protest on his
The lake was very beautiful by moonlight, and
they stayed out on the water for nearly an hour and
a half, and when they got back to the landing there
were Aunt Sarah and Aunt Keziah waiting for
Susie and Roxy.
Saturday was to be Exhibition, and it was to be
held in the afternoon, because if it were held in the

evening a good many of the country-people could
not come.
Just before noon, Piney saw Kyle Wilbur com-
ing along the road from the village, and went out
to meet him, asking, What on earth took you
over before dinner ?"
Oh," said Kyle, on whose face there was a
gloomy sort of look, I 've got a new idea."
A new idea? What is it ?"
"I'll show you before the day's over. They
wont laugh at me to-day as they did yesterday."
Oh, they wont laugh at your piece; it 's sober
"Well, it is. And I guess they '11 have all the
'burning deck' they want, too."
But Piney was unable to get out of Kyle the
particulars of his "new idea," and Kyle seemed
unusually anxious to get home.
"It 's a pity Roxy can't wear the things she
practiced in," Piney said to himself. "How it
would bring down the house!"
He hardly thought they were likely to get any-
thing quite so funny at the academy that day, but
he did not know what was in the troubled mind
of Kyle Wilbur.
Nobody else did, for he had concealed his pur-
poses from even Bill Young.
The upper story of the academy building was
more than half of it thrown into one great room,
with a raised platform at the west end, and with
seats all around like a church.
There was a small gallery, too, but that was
occupiedby a brass band on such great occasions
as Exhibition day and Fourth of July orations.
The young gentlemen and young ladies who
were to recite always came upon the stage through
a door at the side, from a stair-way that led to the
room below. On the stage at one side was a
piano, at the other were some arm-chairs for the
principal and the teachers, and in the middle was
a wide, open space, for the speakers.
The hall was well filled at an early hour, and
was quite crowded by the time thb recitations
began. All sorts of people were there, and Bi
Hunter said to Mr. Sadler that he would n't have
missed seeing that crowd for a good deal."
Piney was to be one of the first speakers, just
after a dialogue between some young ladies, and
his mother and Aunt Keziah thought that dialogue
never would come to an end. But it did, and the
young ladies walked off, and Piney walked on.
Mercy sakes I" exclaimed Aunt Keziah, in a
whisper to Mary Hunter.
"What is it?"
Don't you see? Piney's pale."
"So he is. Poor fellow! "
It was only for a moment, however, and his




color came again as he went on and found himself "' What sought they thus
remembering the piece perfectly. He recited fairly cousin Mary, through the cract
well, too, and Bill Young whispered to Kyle "That 's it! I remember
Wilbur: "You can't beat that." triumphantly, and she went o0
Wont I, though?" said Kyle. You'll see." a perfect storm of applause.
There was a sort of rumor among the boys that And now came Kyle Wilbur
Kyle meant to try on something uncommon, but boys nudged one another with
his turn was not to come for
a- ...3.: l .,
-iii.-l'. i J' i l.. ..i_ I Ill-i' ilt, "i i'

afar,'" whispered
Sof the side door.
now !" said Roxy,
n to the end amid

's turn, and all the
their elbows.

--em- X, 704.

' :'^ y'nl ^ ^ li[^ ^1

time arrived for Roxy to say "The Breaking
Cousin Mary had gone with her as far as the
door that opened upon the stage, although Roxy
knew the way well enough, and did not seem one
bit afraid. Then Mary stood at the door, with it
open just a little, to see how Roxy got along.
She began nicely, after she had made her bow,
with only a slight tremor in her clear, childish
voice, and everybody was delighted, especially her
mother and Aunt Keziah and Aunt Sarah and
Uncle Liph and Grandfather Hunter. Stanza fol-
lowed stanza, just as if she had been at home, till
she was more than half through.
Then the first line of the next stanza seemed to
have got away from her, and she hesitated. It
was a dreadful moment for her.

next Fourth of July fire-works, and he stepped
behind the door, when his name was called, just
long enough to scratch a match on the top stair.
Then he marched on, carrying in each hand one
of those queer fire-works called flower-pots,"
of the largest size he had been able to find.
Each of those flower-pots was already begin-
ning to fizz a little on top, but Kyle gravely set
them down on the floor, one on each side of him,
at arm's length, and plunged into the recitation of

"The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but him had fled."

Before he was into the third stanza his fire-works
began to throw out their showers of fire and stars,
and the audience was shouting and stamping most
enthusiastically. The boys yelled with delight, but
Kyle went steadily on, regardless of the astonished
looks of the teachers on the other side of the stage.
Just before he got through, one of the fire-works



a r,,| tll.: r I,,., -, .i id I h i I LhI.




'.'.[ !.


came to the loud "bang" they all make at the
last, and the other went off as he was saying:
There came a burst of thunder sound
The boy, 0, where was he."
Nothing could have worked better, and the
academy principal hardly knew what to do till
Kyle made his bow. Then, just when he ought
to have walked off, he exclaimed : There, Piney
Hunter, is n't that better than birch-bark ?"
Of course there was more stamping and cheer-
ing, and by the time it was over, Kyle Wilbur was
outside of the academy.


THERE probably was not a more popular boy in
or about Parable Centre, for the rest of that Satur-
day, than Kyle Wilbur, but for some reason or
other he did not stay to enjoy it. He preferred
to walk home with Piney and Bi Hunter.
"Kyle," said Piney, as they strolled along,
"I've got an idea about our old scow. We 're
going up through the lakes next Monday, if the
weather's good, and it '11 be a long row."
"Rather long, that's a fact," said Kyle.
"Now, if we had a mast and sail-"
"Just the thing," exclaimed Bi. She'll bear
it. I've sailed in ayacht. I've seen all sorts of
Can you show us how to rig up a sail for the
scow ? "
Of course I can. You'll want a keel first."
"But how about the mast and sail?" said Kyle.
"Easy enough," answered Piney. I've got a
piece of straight spruce sapling that'll make a
good mast. It's more'n ten feet high. We can
bore an auger-hole in the middle seat."
"No," said Bi, "in the seat next to the front
end, if there 's any front end to a scow like that.
I'll show you how to step it,-that is, how to fit
it in. Then there'll have to be a boom and a
"To rig the sail on? asked Kyle.
"Yes. Piney, how about the sail ? "
Got an old sheet that 'll do. We can cut it out
and have it hemmed. There's lots of rope around
the house."
And we can put in stones for ballast. Hur-
rah shouted Bi. "We'll make her go. Let's
hurry to the house."
The Exhibition was forgotten sooner than any-
thing like it had ever been forgotten before, and it
was wonderful how soon those boys got home.
The boat was hauled out on the grass, and turned
bottom upward, and then the work began.
It seemed nothing at all to them to make the

keel, and then bore an auger-hole in one of the
seats and to nail a block of wood with a hole in it
just under the hole in the seat, on the bottom.
The rudder puzzles me a little," said Piney.
"How about that? "
"Put in a couple of thole pins in the middle at
the stern, and we.can steer with a paddle."
I see. That'll do," said Piney. Now let's
shove her into the water."
Nobody would have known that the old scow had
a keel now, to have looked at her. She sat on the
water just as quietly as usual, without a word to
say about it.
When they stuck in the mast, however, it made
her look a little queer, and just then the bell rang
for supper.
We can fix up the sail this evening," said
Piney. "Mother and Aunt Keziah'11 help us."
And so they did, and Cousin Mary, too, and the
sail was cut and fitted all the better for that.
It was pretty hard to keep from talking boat"
that Sunday, and Piney and Bi retired to their own
rooms at night a little earlier than usual.
Piney and Bi could hardly eat their breakfast
next morning, and came near going off without
the basket of luncheon which Aunt Keziah had
prepared for them.
The mast was put in its place, the boom and
the yard, with the sail between, were fitted to
theirs. Bi took the steering paddle, Kyle stowed
away the luncheon and bait, Piney shoved the
boat off, and then, as the breeze filled the sail,
they heard a sound of cheering from the house.
The whole family were out, waving their hands
and handkerchiefs, and Roxy and Susie were
running across the lawn toward the landing so
fast they could not even say Hurrah !"
As for the old scow, she really made a fair
"cat-boat and slipped along pretty fast.


THAT Monday promised to be for Susie and
Roxy the very best since Uncle Liph and his family
came to the farm-house. Not only was the
weather out-of-doors all that could be asked, but
everything else seemed arranged to suit the two
girls. Aunt Keziah had taken a notion to have
Chub with her all the time. Uncle Liph and
Grandfather Hunter were planning a ride with
Aunt Sarah and Roxy's mother. Piney and Bi
were gone off a-sailing. Mary Hunter and Mr.
Sadler were playing chess in the front parlor. In
fact, the two girls were left to take care of them-
selves, and what more could they have asked for?
That was the way it seemed to them, and they
did not ask for anything.




They just took their dolls, put on their wide-
brimmed sun-bonnets, and marched out through
the front gate and up the north road.


, '

'*, -- I n
-..-' ( .' -, -


5. -

T ..*.^ '

"* *-,*4F~ f'

-1 .-' ^

.. ,-.




** I
1" '


"The farther north you go," said Roxy, "the
cooler it is;" and the next moment, she added, with
a start of surprise : 0, Susie, there 's a darning-
needle lit on your sun-bonnet "
A darning-needle? Lit on my bonnet ? What
is it, Roxy ? "
Susie's voice sounded a little scared, for Roxy
was watching the great, brilliant dragon-fly which
had paused on her cousin's hat, with a look that
expressed some dread of it.
Take it off and look at him. There he goes.
That 's his needle. Is n't he beautiful ?"

Susie had snatched off her sun-bonnet and she-
gazed after the dh ......-Il with wide open mouth
and eyes.
Let 's go home, Roxy."
"What for?"
"Why, I don't like those flies."
It is n't a fly."
Is n't it? Is it a sort of bird ?"
"Now, Susie, they don't hurt anybody They
don't even sting. They only scare you a little."
Susie looked at her bonnet carefully, but it was
unharmed, and she decided not to go back to the
house for a while.
There were plenty of thistles at the roadside, here
and there, with large, red flowers, and Roxy and
Susie stood by a patch of them for some minutes,
watching the bees, wasps and hornets that flew
by or settled near them.
Indeed, as they walked along, Roxy was able to.
point out to her city cousin quite a number of
insects and birds. A crow, a robin, a cat-bird, a
meadow-lark, a bobolink, a blue-jay, one after the
other, were made the subject of admiring comment.
"Are there any snakes ?" asked Susie.
"Yes, but they don't live in the road. They're-
over in the swamps and among the rocks up on
the hill where we pick huckleberries."
O, I would n't go there for anything."
Snakes don't hurt anything. Aunt Keziah
says there used to be more of 'em, but the country
is too poor to raise snakes, nowadays."
Neither of them had any idea how far they had
walked, they had been so busy with their birds
and insects, and their talk; but they were begin-
ning to feel a little tired, and they were about to
have a real scare."
"What noise is that?" asked Susie, turning
her head the way they had come.
That? Don't you know ? That's cows."
"But how loud it is "
"So it is," said Roxy. "0, dear me, there
must be a drove of cattle! "
Oh,-oh! Wont they run over us ? "
Of course they will. Cattle are just dreadful! "
"0, Mother! Mother!" exclaimed poor Susie.
"I wish I was home !"
Come, now, Susie, don't cry," said Roxy,.
putting her little arms about her cousin. It's a
good deal better just to climb the fence."
It was a nice rail fence, easy to climb, even for
such little girls as those two were, but they were
not on the other side of it any too soon. The
drove of cattle was a large one, and some of the.
great oxen in front acted as if they were angry.
The road was crowded, and if the girls had been
in it they would surely have been hurt.
They were safe behind the fence, but it made



~~ C


them a good deal frightened to hear so much
noise, and to see so many pairs of long, dangerous-
looking horns.
There were some men on horseback and one or
two on foot behind the drove of cattle, and a man
coming from the other way, in a lumber-wagon,
with two horses, stopped right in front of where the
girls were. He had driven through the drove
slowly, and he seemed angry.
There ort to be a law agin' it," he shouted to
the men on horseback. Drivin' a drove like that
on such a traveled road as this, at this time o' day !
Somebody might be killed."
Got any critters to sell? returned one of the
horsemen. "Beef's goin' down."
S'pose somebody's children,-I declare, if there
aint two little gals, now,-they might have been
just trampled! "
"Why, Susie, it's Deacon Simmons," exclaimed
Roxy, and then she shouted at the top of her
voice: "Deacon Simmons! Deacon Simmons! "
"Is that you, Roxy? Well, if you aint a pil-
grum to-day, wuss'n you was a Saturday How 'd
ye git so far from home ? "
"We walked," said Roxy.
You did, did ye ? Why, it's a good four mile.
Well, you'll just git in with me and ride home,
you will. Did the drove scare ye ? "
It scared Susie, but we remembered to climb
the fence," said Roxy.
"It's well ye did."
Roxy and Susie climbed back into the road, and
the good deacon ceased scolding the drover and
helped them into the wagon.
What could have got into Keziah Merrill," he
said, let alone your mother, to have let two such
bits of things ramble off alone? If my wife was
here, she 'd give her a piece of her mind. Don't
know but I will myself."
For all his indignation, however, Deacon Sim-
mons chatted with Roxy and Susie all the way to
the front gate of their own home.
There stood Aunt Keziah and Roxy's mother
and Cousin Mary, looking up and down. the road,
-and Mary exclaimed: "There they are, sure
enough Dear me, I sent Mr. Sadler the wrong
way "


SOMEBODY or other said, a great while ago, that
the funniest thing about a river was that its head
and its mouth were so far apart. For all that, every
river seems to know just where to go. You never
heard of one trying to climb over a hill. Even such
a little bit of a river as the Ti-ough-ne-au-ga, that
ran through those little lakes and on down the

valley, was wise enough to pick out theeasiest course
to run in. For that reason the banks of it were
quite low, except in one or two places where it had
made or found a channel through a ridge of
ground. Here it was narrow, and there were ledges
of rocks on one side or the other; but they helped
make the scenery beautiful.
The three boys thought they had never seen any-
thing finer in their lives. Kyle Wilbur and Piney
Hunter had seen it all before, and had visited all of
it in that very boat. But then the old scow did
not have a mast and sail in it until that morning,
and that made a great difference in everything else.
They narrowly watched Bi in his management of
the sail, and their respect for the city boy was very
much increased. The curiosity was that while the
wind blew from the south-west all the while, and
the river made any number of crooks and turns,
Bi kept the boat in motion in the right direction
by changing the position of the sail. Now it was
right over the boat, then it would swing out a little
on one side or the other, and then he would let it
away out at right angles, or even farther.
They soon came out into the middle lake. It
was about as large as the one by the farm-house,
but a little wider.
As the scow moved swiftly on from the narrow
place where the river went out of the lake, Bi
noticed that both his friends were busy with their
0, boys," he exclaimed, let's sail. Don't
stop to catch fish."
No," said Piney, "we wont stop. Only I've
always thought how I could troll for pickerel if I
had a sail-boat. I've got the neatest kind of a
spoon-hook, and here's one for you, already rigged."
"A spoon-hook! shouted Bi, "that's splen-
did. Why, I've often trolled for blue-fish on Long
Island Sound. Hurrah he continued. "I'll set
the boat steady right up the lake, and we 'l1 all try
our hands."
The spoon-hooks were just what their name
indicated. They were of pretty good size, with
what was shaped like the bowl of a spoon just above
them, and when they were pulled through the
water the shining metal twirled and glittered in a
way to make a pickerel think he saw the prettiest
kind of a shiner," just ready to be eaten.
In the course of two minutes or so there were
three of those hooks leaping and flashing along the
little waves in the wake of the old scow.
It was magnificent fun. No worry about bait.
No rowing to do. Nothing but to lie there in the
stern of the old scow and watch for bites, while the
light breeze carried the boat northward.
Piney could have sung something, if he could
have thought of a song that would not scare the




fish, and Kyle Wilbur's sallow face began to look
red and earnest.
The first bite came to Bi's hook, and he struck
it," as fishermen say, in a way that told a story for
his blue-fishing. That is, the other boys saw that
he knew how to do it, and again they wondered
that a city boy, and a bit of a dandy, too, should
know so much about some things when he knew so
little about others.
Guess he might say the same of us," thought
Piney, "if he had us in the city."
But Bi pulled in his pickerel hand-over-hand,
and landed him safely in the bottom of the boat.
Just then there was a tug at Piney's line that
almost took it away from him.
You 've got one shouted Bi.
"Not too hard, Piney," said Kyle, coolly. You
might pull it out of his mouth."
Or break my line," exclaimed Piney, his face
blazing with excitement. I say, boys, this one's
a regular cod-lamper. See him jump "
"Give him line," screamed Bi. "That one
wont hold him on a dead pull."
It was not very easy for Bi and Kyle to keep
their eyes away from Piney's fight with that big
fish, and it took a good while to master that pick-
erel with that tackle. If Piney had been in too
much of a hurry he would surely have lost his
game, but he stuck to it bravely and patiently,
and at last he pulled him alongside the boat.
Hold him steady," said Kyle, till I give him
a lift."
Quick, now," shouted Piney.
And Kyle was quick, and in an instant more the
pickerel was in the boat, the biggest fish either of
them had ever seen caught in those lakes.
Bi Hunter lost a capital bite while he was
looking at that pickerel, and Kyle Wilbur said:
Now it's my turn. I guess I '11 catch some-
And so he did, only it was not a pickerel but a
fine, large yellow perch.
They don't often strike a spoon hook," said
Piney, but they do, sometimes-the larger
Four or five more fish were pulled in, before
they reached the end of the lake.
The river between the middle lake that they
were in and the upper one, was merely a short
"strait," hardly half a mile in length, windings
and all.
"Not so many farms around this lake," said Bi,
as they sailed in. More woods. Hullo, Piney,
is n't that an island ?"
Rockiest kind of one," said Piney. We '11
eat our luncheon there. Let's sail all around it and
troll as we go."
VOL. VII.-34.

That may have been a "better fishing-ground,"
and it was true that they pulled in a greater
number, but.neither of them caught a match for
Piney's big pickerel. The island looked wonder-
fully attractive, with its tall trees rising among the
rocks, and the boys soon began to feel hungry.
It's like going into the wilderness," remarked
Bi, as he lowered the sail and the boat put her
nose against the shore.
"That's a big word," said Kyle, for an island
that is n't more 'n an acre 'n a-half of land, and
that nobody 'd live on if you 'd give it to 'em."
I brought some matches," said Bi; we 'l
have a fire in less than no time."
And we 'I1 cook some of our own fish," said
Piney. Soon as I 've put 'em on a string I '11
wash some stones to cook fish on. It 's the way
the Indians did. Heat your stones good and hot.
Use flat ones, you know. Beats a broiler all hollow."
His first care, however, was to string" all his
fish, except the few small pickerel which he meant
to cook, on a stout piece of twine, and then he
lowered the whole string into the water and fastened
it to the boat to keep them fresh.
"Now for dinner. 0, but I 'm hungry !"
Kyle Wilbur had gathered bark and dead
wood and started a fire, and Bi had helped him
actively. Then Kyle said: "Now, Bi, you 'tend
fire, and I '11 help Piney clean fish."
Aunt Keziah had put up a liberal luncheon and
a nice one, but nothing in the basket tasted half so
good as those fish.
"Best picnic I ever heard of," exclaimed Bi.
"If I lived out here I 'd come to the island once a
After dinner the boys spent nearly an hour in
rambling over the island and climbing among the
rocks, till Piney said, at last:
Well, let 's go for some more fish, for we'd
better be starting for home pretty soon."
The scow was right there waiting for them, and
the heavy "string" of pickerel and perch was
lifted out of the water and into the boat.
Boys," said Bi, as he raised the sail, shove
her off. But I just hate to leave that island."
So do I," exclaimed Kyle and Piney, almost in
the same breath.

AT the very time their friends at home were
talking with Deacon Simmons about the girls,
Piney, Bi and Kyle were pushing away from the
island. There was just about wind enough to fill
the sail, at first, but the old scow went along very
slowly, and before they had gone far, the water
was as still as a wash-tub, and the sail hung limp
and idle.




"What a dead calm !" said Bi.
Never mind," said Piney, we can't troll, but
we 've plenty of bait. We can just anchor and
Something like an hour went by, and the lake
and the rocks and woods were a perfect picture of
peace and quiet. It was enough to make the boys
feel sleepy, and not one of them had thought to
notice the sky. To be sure, there were not many
clouds to be seen, only a sort of misty cloud-bank
in the east, but pretty soon Kyle looked up from
putting a bull-head on the string and remarked:
"I say, boys, there 's some wind a-comin'. We
wont have to row homee"
Wind?" exclaimed Bi. So there is. It'll
be here quick, too. Let 's have up the anchor."
He began at once to pull on the anchor-rope,
and Piney and Kyle, just to be good sailors and
help him, hoisted the sail.
Hold on shouted Bi. We 're not half
ready. It looks like a squall."
There had been a ripple on the water, away
toward the eastern shore of the lake. Just a little
rough patch at first, but it grew and spread, and
darkened with sudden swiftness, and came sweep-
ing on toward the boat while Bi was lifting the
It 's coming," shouted Kyle, as he gave an
extra tug to the halliards of the sail.
Here it is !" exclaimed Piney, as the cool
breeze blew sharply on his cheek.
Kyle, drop that rope," shouted Bi, excitedly,
and Kyle dropped it ; but a knot on it caught on one
of the seats and held it firmly, just as the sail
swelled out with the full force of the fierce gust of
wind which followed.
It seemed, for a moment, as if the mast would
break, but it was a tough, well-seasoned piece of
spruce, and it bent without breaking.
If it had broken then, the boat would not have
been upset; but as it was, the wind seemed to take
hold of the sail more and more fiercely, and forced
it over further and further, till one of the flat stones
they had put in for ballast slipped out of its place,
and over went the old scow, and Piney, Bi and
Kyle went over with it.
The next moment, they were all puffing around
in the water, and Bi was especially glad of the fact
that he knew how to swim.
SShall we strike for the shore or the island ?"
he asked. The island's nearest. Guess I could
swim ashore, though, with one of the paddles to
help keep me up."
No, sir-ee shouted Piney. We '11 just
right the old scow and bail her out."
"Can we do that?"
Course we can," said Kyle, if the water

is n't too rough. We 've tipped her and righted
her, lots of times."
Bi had not thought of that, but he took hold
manfully with the other two.
I see what 's the matter," he said, after they
had worked in vain for a few minutes. It 's the
sail. We must manage to get it down."
Of course," said Piney. "What a stupid I
am, not to have thought of that."
There was nothing very difficult about it, and
before long they had the old boat righted, but she
was nearly full, and her sides were only an inch or
two above water. Half the waves that came went
right over into her.
Still the boys worked away with their hats, and
were gaining pretty fast, when Piney exclaimed:
Look here, Kyle, don't you see ? Bi 's getting
tired out. He can't swim like you and me."
"What 'll we do? "
"I could hold on awhile," began Bi, very
bravely, although his face was a little pale, but
Piney interrupted him with:
"No, you can't. You go to the end of the boat
and climb over in. She 'll carry you, all alone."
Bi did so, for he felt pretty well exhausted, and
he was delighted to find that his weight only sank
the boat down to about where she had been when
they began.
"Try to pull in the anchor," said Piney. "We'll
help you. But don't upset her again."
It was what Kyle Wilbur called mighty tick-
lish business," but the anchor was lifted in and Bi
began to bail as fast as he could with his hat.
"Work away," said Piney, while Kyle and I
tow her toward the island."
"Pity we 've lost all our fish," said Kyle, mourn-
"Lost em?" said Piney. "Not a bit of it. But
I 'd forgotten 'em. We never can tow the boat
with those strings of fish dragging alongside."
"They 're hitched to the boat!" exclaimed
Kyle. So they are! Why, we can throw 'em
right in."
"Careful !" said Piney. "Take it easy or we '11
have the boat over. Bi 's bailing like a good
fellow. If it was n't for the waves washing in he 'd
get ahead fast. Now, Kyle."
Bi helped them put the fish in, and his face wore
a sort of mortified expression as he saw Piney
strike out toward the shore, with the hitching-chain
of the boat fastened to his coat-collar, while Kyle
Wilbur pushed with all his might at the stern.
Bi envied them their strength and skill as swim-
mers, but he tried to do his share of the work with
his hat. The paddles and seats had all been
saved, and the fishing-rods. As for the trolling-
lines, they had been tied to the thole-pins and




were safe. All that was lost was the bait-box, they
thought, until Piney turned over in the water and
.exclaimed: The luncheon basket!"
Bottom of the lake," replied Kyle.
That 's too bad," said Bi.
"Aunt Keziah '11 think so," said Piney, ruefully.
" Basket, napkins, plates, forks, knives, spoons,
pepper-box, and pickle-bottle, all drowned."
"Can't be helped," said Kyle. "It was too deep
to dive for 'em."
Altogether too deep, and the boys worked their
way manfully to the shore.
Once there, it was easy enough to drag the
boat half out of the water on a sloping beach, and
-turn her up on one side to drain. It was easier
than bailing in that hot sun. Some more stones
were put in for ballast when they launched her
again, but the afternoon was pretty well used up
when they started for home.
So were the boys, but then the wind was fair and
strong, so that they had no more hard work before

LATE that afternoon Uncle Liph Hunter came
,back with the carry-all. Of course he brought the
mail, but they were all a little surprised to see
Grandfather also, and both he and Uncle Liph
were more than usually bright and smiling.
What makes you look so happy? said Aunt
"0, because we 've some news for the family,"
,said Uncle Liph.
"News! What can it be ?"
I '11 tell you. They 've been giving the prizes
for the Exhibition. The teachers, of course, re-
ported who were best in all the classes, but they
selected a committee of gentlemen in the audience
to decide on the prizes for declamation."
That was fair," said Aunt Keziah.
Fair said Uncle Liph. Yes; but who do
you think got the prizes? "
Do tell us," said Aunt Keziah.
Well, the report of the committee says, First
prize for excellence in declamation, Kyle Wilbur.' "
You don't say !" exclaimed Aunt Keziah. His
fire-works did that."
The teachers said as much, and I think they
only half liked it. But there was a second prize.
The first is a big dictionary, and the second, a fine
copy of Stockton's Roundabout Rambles.' "
O !" exclaimed Susie. Who got it?"
A young lady named Roxy Hunter."
O, what a shout there was from all the aunties
and Cousin Mary, and Mr. Sadler picked up Roxy
and tossed her almost to the ceiling.
"Piney and Bi and Kyle are out sailing yet,

but it's pretty near time they were home," said
Aunt Keziah. I do hope nothing has happened
to 'em. They 're gone clean through to the upper
Another hour went by, however, and another,
and the people at the farm-house began almost to
feel uneasy, as tea-time drew near and there were
no signs of the return of their young sailors.
Just then a tall lady came in through the front
gate, and Aunt Keziah exclaimed:
"If there is n't Kyle's mother! Wonder if
she 's alarmed about him ? "
Mrs. Wilbur came in and was introduced to the
visitors from the city.
Did n't my Kyle go a-boatin' with your Piney?"
she asked of Piney's mother.
"Yes, and with his Cousin Bayard."
Well, don't it seem to you as if they'd been gone
long enough ? Kyle's got his cows to go for, and
there's the pigs to feed and lots of other chores. But
then it's vacation, and boys are boys."
"Your boy seems a very promising one," said
Uncle Liph. Have you heard from the village
to-day ? "
"Not a word. Do you mean from the academy?
Now, I do declare I know that caper of his on
Exhibition day '11 get him into a scrape, but I
could n't help laughing. "
"Everybody laughed," said Uncle Liph. "And
what's more, the committee awarded him the first
You don't say The first prize to my Kyle ?
Now, if that is n't something' worth while. It'll be
the making' of him. All he's been a needin' this
ever so long was a little setting' up."
He 's got it now," said Grandfather Hunter.
" It's a dictionary. Largest size that's printed."
He'll read it through, then, he will. You see,
he and Piney are neighbors, and they 're good
friends ; but Piney beats him too bad on books and
such things. But now he 's won a prize right over
Piney's head. I declare "
They all sympathized too much with Mrs. Wil-
bur's pleasure to say anything just then about
Piney's school record. Even Aunt Keziah shut
her lips resolutely, but Roxy marched forward with:
Kyle got one prize, Mrs. Wilbur, but I got the
other. I did n't forget a word of my piece."
You got a prize, my dear ? said Mrs. Wilbur.
"I 'm glad of it. But, Mrs. Hunter,-Keziah,
don't you think those boys ought to be home by
this time ? "
Mr. Sadler and Mary had walked out on the
lawn while the rest were talking, and just at that
moment they heard him shout: Here they are !
All three of them. Boat and all."
There they were, indeed, and ii. i.:1. sailed





in toward the landing, where their friends came
hurrying down to meet them. But they were not
the neatly dressed party of young fellows that had
sailed away that morning. To be sure, they had
been pretty well dried by the sun and wind on the
way home, but there was no need for them to tell
that they had all been in the water. And then,
such looking hats! It does not improve a straw
hat at all to bail out a boat with it.
The boys were in splendid spirits, however, and,
as they came in, they lifted their strings of fish and
swung them proudly around, and then the next
half hour was taken up in telling the story of the
upset and in answering questions.

THE evening after what Bi Hunter called the
cruise of the scow'" was by all odds the brightest
one he had had at the farm-house. Not only were
he and Piney better acquainted, so that they under-
stood each other, but there were no school-books
nor lessons in the way; that is, Piney was free, and
vacation had really come.
It was a beautiful evening, and Piney's mother
and Cousin Mary played on the piano and sang;
and, after the children were in bed, Grandfather
said he was tired and went too, and Bi and Piney
got out the chess-board.
Then Piney's mother came and sat down by the
boys, and Uncle Liph and Aunt Sarah went and
sat on the front piazza. All of a sudden, Aunt
Keziah looked up and said to Piney's mother:
Elizabeth, where are Mary and Mr. Sadler? "
They 've gone for a walk, Keziah. To-mor-
row 's the last day he can stay here."
"Is it?" exclaimed Piney. "Then, we must show
him some fun in the hay-field. The men say there
are more bumble-bees' nests than they ever knew
before. Some of 'em are in the grass where they 're
mowing. The mowing breaks up the nests, any-
way, and we might as well have the honey."
Whether Piney was right about that or not, he
had always considered bees' nests fair prey, as all
country boys do; and he and Bi awoke the next
morning with a sort of a buzzing in their ears.
Let 's go and practice with my bow and arrows
till breakfast," said Piney.
"All right," said Bi. "I want to go for some
pickerel, while I 'm here, and I might as well learn
to shoot."
It was easy enough to set up a target out on
the lawn, but Bi very quickly discovered that, as he
expressed it, he was not one bit of an Indian."
Hullo he added, turning about: Mr. Sad-
ler and Mary are coming. Let him fry a shot."
That was what they were coming for, and Cousin

Mary stood, with her beautiful new white straw
hat swinging from her hand, while Mr. Sadler took
the bow and one of the blunt, wooden-headed
arrows, to see what he could do with them.
Oh, Susie," shouted Roxy, on the piazza, they
are bow-and-arrowing out on the lawn "
And Mr. Sadler's going to shoot! said Susie.
" Let 's go and see."
Mr. Sadler had fitted the arrow on the string
just then, and was beginning to pull on it; but
the bow was harder to bend than he had expected,
and, just as he was beginning to raise it and was
turning toward the target, his finger slipped from
the end of the arrow. Cousin Mary had been
looking hard at the target, as if she expected to
see that arrow sticking in the middle of it the next
moment, but Mr. Sadler exclaimed: "Well, now!"'
And Roxy, who was running across the lawn like
a little deer, in a short dress, shouted:
Oh, Cousin Mary, he's shooted your new hat!"
Bi and Piney tried hard not to laugh, but the
more they tried the more they looked as if they
wanted to. There was no mistake about it. There
was the hat, ten feet away, on the grass, with the
arrow sticking through the middle of the crown !
"Oh, never mind!" said Mary; "the arrow
is n't hurt a bit."
But the hat is," said Roxy, as she breathlessly
picked it up.
Take another arrow, Mr. Sadler," said Piney.
" You made a center shot that time."
Poor Mr. Sadler's face was pretty red, and he
hardly knew what to say; but'Cousin Mary's face
wore so kind and smiling a look, that he just took
the fresh arrow from Piney and turned toward the
target. Such a pull as he gave that bow-string!
And, when he let go, the arrow never stopped
to make a dent on the target. It went twenty feet
above it, and on, on, on, till it was tired out and
tumbled into the lake.
"Never mind," said Piney. It '11 float ashore.
We '11 find it. There goes the breakfast-bell."
After breakfast, they were all soon ready for the
hay-field and on their way through the barn-yard
and into the lane.
About half-way up the lane they came to some
bars in the fence, and Piney let them down, so
they could all walk through. He led them right
across that field and a little way down the hill-side,
and through some more bars, and then they were
in the hay-field.
It certainly was a fine field of hay, but one of
the mowers motioned to them to stay where they
were. He shouted to Piney that they had "jist
been clean driven away from that easterly swath
by the biggest nest of bumble-bees ever stirred
up. They're all mad, and they '11 go for ye, sure."





"Hurrah, Bi," shouted Piney. "There 's Kyle
coming across the meadow. Do as I do."
Out came his handkerchief. He spread it over
the back of his head and down over his ears, and
tucked it under his shirt-collar, and put his hat on
"They wont get in through that," he said, as
he saw Bi and Mr. Sadler imitating him. Then
he gathered a handful of long grass and weeds.
Get a good brush, like that," he said to Bi.
" Don't mind 'em unless they 'light on a place
where they can sting through."
Cousin Mary and Aunt Keziah and the children
remained where they were. They even took up
rakes and made believe "make hay," but they
could not help watching Piney and the rest as they
went for that nest of bees and honey.
The bee-hunters had no difficulty in finding
about where that nest was. Not only the mowers
pointed it out to them, but both Kyle and Piney
were familiar with the business they were on. As
they drew nearer, more than one angry bee made a
dash at them, but Bi and Mr. Sadler followed the
example of the two country boys, and merely
brushed their enemies away.
The trouble was that the insects did not seem to
know what fear was, and charged again and again,
no matter how often they were knocked into the
"Here it is," shouted Piney. It 's a big one.
Now, Kyle, keep 'em off while I take it out.
They 're coming."
He stooped down as he spoke and dug with his
bare fingers in the grass at the side of a large,
round stone. Not many boys would have had the
nerve to pry out that nest and pick it up, but
Piney Hunter did, and all the while Kyle Wilbur
was thrashing away like mad in all directions
against a swarm of angry bumble-bees. Bi and
Mr. Sadler came running up, and they, too, were
compelled to work with their bunches of grass and
weeds, as if they were earning very large wages,
Had n't we better run ?" asked Bi.
"Run, then. That 's what I 'm going to do.
But keep on whipping. They'll follow you."
It was good advice, for the bees did follow, ever
so many of them. Piney held the nest in one
hand and fought with the other, and somehow he
and Kyle got off without a sting. Perhaps it was
because they ran along together and kept a good
look-out on each other. If a bee alighted on either
of them he was instantly brushed away.
In union there is strength," and Mr. Sadler
and Bi got separated as they ran.
Mary saw them running, and exclaimed: 0,
Aunt Keziah I The bees are after them."

Of course they are. But look at Piney; He's
got the nest."
Mr. Sadler should have been wiser than to have
run in the direction he took. To be sure, he had
whipped himself free of his enemies, except one
that managed to settle for a moment on his nose,
but another dashed on ahead and, while poor
Cousin Mary was thinking of anything but her
own safety, she suddenly felt something terribly
hot on her under lip.
Oh, Aunt Keziah, I 'm stung "
"Are you, my dear? I 'm sorry for that.
Where did he sting you ? "
On my lip. Oh, dear!"
It really pained her very much and Roxy said,
as Mr. Sadler came up: "There, Mr. Sadler,
you brought a bee with you, and he 's stung
Cousin Mary on her lip. It's awful."
He, too, seemed to think it "awful," for he took
his hand away from his nose and began to say so,
but Aunt Keziah exclaimed: Nonsense All
that fuss about a bee-sting. Put a little mud on
it and and let 's go and see 'em mow."
In a few minutes Piney came in with his prize.
It was indeed a large nest, with several table-
spoonfuls, more or less, of the most delicious honey
any of them had ever tasted. So they all said, but,
not long after, Mr. Sadler and Cousin Mary walked
back together toward the bars.
By that time, however, Piney and Bi and Kyle
were fighting with another lot of bumble-bees.


THE fun of the hay-field, for Cousin Mary and
Mr. Sadler, had been spoiled by two angry bum-
ble-bees, but that was no reason why all the rest
should give it up, and they did not.
The bees of that next nest managed to get a
good sting at all three of the boys, and Bi Hunter
learned more respect for them than he had had
before. His handkerchief had got out of his neck
and a very angry bumble-bee .had stung him.
Piney and Kyle had each been stung too, but it
was an old story to them and they did not seem to
mind it much.
As for Aunt Keziah, she was more interested in
seeing what a good crop of hay she was to have,
and Roxy and Susie began to turn their attention
to it also. They had brought their dolls with
them, of course, and it was capital fun to put them
to sleep and make houses for them in the low, soft
mounds of hay, where it had been pitched into
hay-cocks. And then they kicked the hay about in
the "winnows," where it had been raked together.
Is n't hay nice ? said Susie.
"Of course it is," said Roxy, "but they 're




going to load a wagon pretty soon. Then we '11
have a ride to the barn."
"That '11 be splendid "
A ,good deal of the hay in that field was suffi-
ciently cured to be carried home, and before noon
a great wagon, drawn by two horses, with a wide
wooden frame on top of the wagon-box, was slowly
pulled along from one heap of hay to another.
Piney and his two friends were getting pretty
warm over their fun, by this time, and Bi was
troubled by a feeling that it was not exactly right.
The bees own the nests," he said to himself,
" and it's their honey."
He had to give up making Kyle and Piney see it
in that way, however, for Kyle told him :
The bees own the honey till haying-time, Bi,
-then it's ours. Why, even if they sting a fellow
they leave their sting in him."
Bi put his hand gently on the back of his neck,
where a hot lump was growing, and he had very
little pity for that particular bee.
I say, boys," he exclaimed, as he looked across
the field, they've loaded that wagon and they 're
lifting the children on it for a ride. Just hear 'em
scream. S'pose we go and ride in with 'em."
"All right,"said Piney, "butwho shrieked then?"
Not Roxy nor Susie, decidedly, and the next thing
they saw was Aunt Keziah, running across from
where she had been standing, and whipping her
head with her apron.
There's a bee after her said Kyle.
That's too bad," said Bi.
Piney was already on a run to Aunt Keziah's
assistance, but before he reached her she stopped,
stood still a moment, and then walked slowly back
toward the hay-wagon.
What is the matter, Aunt Keziah ?" asked
Roxy, from the top of the hay-wagon. Did they
try to lift you up ?"
She and Susie had enjoyed being lifted, but they
had screamed pretty loudly, all the same.
Did he sting you? shouted Piney at the same
Sting ? said Aunt Keziah. What do I care
for a bee-sting ? I 'm going back to the house,
along with this load. I 've been fooling around
here long enough."
Somehow or other, though, her right hand went
up to her ear just then, for all the world as if some-
thing was smarting there.
"Come, boys," shouted Piney, "let's climb up !"
The wagon was soon in motion, and it tilted this
way and that over the rough places of the field, on
its way to the bars, in a very exciting way,
How the two girls did hold on to their brothers!
"Does hay ever upset ? asked Susie.
Does it, Piney ?" said Bi.

Oh, sometimes, but not on a straight, easy
road like this. We 're all safe enough. Hold
tight when we go down the lane, that 's all."
Roxy and Susie screamed with delight and fear,
as the load of hay climbed the ascent to the bars
leading into the lane, and then began to roll slowly
down to the barn-yard. Right in front of the wide
barn-doors, the horses stopped.
"I see now," said Bi, "why barn-doors are
made so high. Why, the load can but just get in."
"That 's so," said Piney; "we must all get
down, or we '11 be scraped off. Slip down the
back end, Bi; I 'll let the girls down to you."
Bi did so, and Roxy and Susie clambered close
behind him. They were trembling a little, but
Roxy said: Piney knows, Susie. It's awful high,
but we'll get down."
Aunt Keziah was right there, with her hand on-
her ear, telling one of the farm-hands-a tall,
strong man-to "help down those children, so
they wont break their little necks."
Could she have been angry at that bee for sting-
ing her ? She would not have said so for anything,
but she was plainly in a hurry to get to the house.
Bi took hold of Roxy's hand, and let her slip,
slip, slip down the smooth surface of the hay, till
the man below could reach up and touch her-
Then he let go, and just as she was screaming,
" Oh, Aunt Keziah she was caught in a pair of
strong hands and landed safely on the ground.
"Come, Susie," she said at once. "Come on.
Don't be scared. It just is n't anything at all."'
Susie thought differently, but she took Bi's hand
and began to slide; and then, almost before she
could believe it, she was standing beside her cousin..
Kyle Wilbur was there, too, for he had swung
himself down from the forward end of the wagon.
It was easy enough for a pair of active boys like
Piney and Bi to come down without help. They
would have scorned asking any.

AUNT KEZIAH did not go back to the hay-field
that day. None of the older people did, and
Roxy and Susie were prevailed upon to play in the
neighborhood of the house, where there were no
nests of angry bumble-bees.
When the boys came back from the hay-field
they were hot and tired, and that evening was a
quiet one at the old farm-house.
The next day Mr. Sadler had to return to the
city, and very little could be done till after the
carry-all came to the door to take him away. Uncle
Liph and Aunt Sarah and Cousin Mary went over
to the village with him, and when they came back
Uncle Liph said to Piney's mother that he should
have to cut short his visit.




"I may have to spend a week in the city, on
business, and then we are all going down to the
sea-shore," said he.
About noon- the boys came marching in a slow
procession toward Uncle Liph, who sat upon the
front piazza.
"What?" said he, as they handed him some
curious objects. Six new arrow-heads I declare,
there's one big enough for a spear-head. That war-
club is a noble one, and so is the stone hatchet."
Kyle found them. There are plenty of such
things scattered about the old fields near here,"
said Piney. "They're his present to you."
Kyle? Well, now, I thank him very much,"
said Uncle Liph, and then he seemed to be think-
ing for a moment before he added:
Kyle, would you like to visit the city ? "
O, yes, sir. I guess I would. Why, I never
was in one in all my life."
"Well, I'm going home next Monday, and I'm
to take Piney and Roxy with me, to stay a week.
I'd be glad to have you come and visit me with
Poor Kyle i It was almost too much to come at
once. He blushed and stammered and did not
know what to say, for it sounded very much as if
he had been promised a peep into fairy-land.
Ask, your mother when you go home. I'll
show you all my curiosities and Bi will show you
the city. You can see the houses and streets and
the ships in the harbor, and the forts, and we 'll all
go some day and have a look at the ocean."
Kyle's eyes seemed to be growing bigger while
Uncle Liph was talking. But that was the first
Piney had heard about the visit to the city, and
Aunt Keziah exclaimed: Do look at that boy!
Piney, you aint going to burst, are ye ?"
"I'd like to do something. Mother, are you
going to let us go ? "
"Yes, my son. You and Roxy too."
"O, Chub, I'm going to the city," shouted
Roxy, as she hugged her fat little brother. I'm
going to the city where the oshung is, and Piney's
going, too, and Kyle Wilbur, and Kyle never was
there before, and it 'll scare him half to death."
"I'll ask my mother," said Kyle, as he began
to edge away toward the door. "I guess she'll
let me go. It's only for a week, and Bill Young '11
go for my cows while I'm gone."

Mrs. Wilbur was glad enough to let Kyle make
such a visit as that, and Mr. Hunter promised to
send him home safely at the end of the week.

"That 's what comes of his speaking' so well at
the Exhibition," she said.
The boys did all they could to make Friday and
Saturday pleasant for Bi, but it was hard to talk of
anything but the city, and poor Bi had to answer
an endless string of questions. Then came Sun-
day, and Piney and Roxy thought it was the longest
Sunday they had ever heard of.
Aunt Keziah and Piney's mother had been doing
everything they could to get him and Roxy ready,
and Mrs. Wilbur had been over to see them about
Kyle's clothes again and again, until Aunt Keziah
exclaimed: Overcoat Yes, and he 'd better
take his skates, too, so 's to be ready if there 's a
summer freeze while he's there."
"It's a trying' piece of business, Keziah. He 's
never traveled any."
Well, he must learn," said Aunt Keziah.
It was indeed a trying piece of business to get
Roxy and Susie off in proper shape, that Monday
morning; but Piney had become, as he said,
"kind o' settled down to it," and Kyle Wilbur
was trying his best to imitate him.
Such a grand start they made,'with the older
people in the carry-all, and the trunks and the
children in one of Aunt Keziah's farm-wagons.
Piney and Roxy looked a little sober when they
kissed their mother good-bye, and Mrs. Wilbur
came to the front gate with Kyle's dictionary
under her arm; but for all that, the three boys
managed to stand up in the wagon just after it
started, and give three cheers and a tiger" for
the old farm-house and the lakes, and the dear,
good friends who were gazing after them from the
front piazza.

We could tell our readers the particulars of this
happy visit to town. Of the sights the boys saw
and the sights they did n't see, of the wisdom they
found and the ignorance they lost-of how life
seemed to widen before them when they saw the
vast workings of business, trade and manufacture
in a great city-and how, after they returned
home, they never were quite the same that they
were before. But the story would have no thrilling
ending after all-not even if it carried them out of
boyhood into manhood and old age. The lives
of the great crowd of human beings about us are
more interesting in the living than to those who
look on. You have looked on while Piney and Bi
and Kyle were passing through some happy weeks
of boyhood, and if you have been interested and
pleased, the author is satisfied.






S B Lucy G. MORSE.

"* '., i -. h .-I,:!
*"*"' ^'"i ll^ ^ s ... '" N i: J,'" m;,i ', ... li t in th ie

: t pi.'-,t, r I-_I I_ I-, .: .i ti -'t n e dl

J le-'.In [ dani'- a r-! an.I had
fall-en a-part in the at-tempt. In a few mo-ments Ned called to her to
come in-to the gar-den and see him walk on his stilts. At first he
found it hard, for his legs went just where he did not want them to. He
had al-most a hun-dred tum-bles and a-bout twen-ty bruis-es be-fore he
could walk firm-ly. "Hur-rah !" he cried then. "These stilts make
me as tall as my fa-ther! I can see as much as he can, with-out wait-
ing to grow up. Hur-rah! I can see the world!"
While walk-ing a-bout, he came to an old ap-ple-tree. His head was
high up a-mong the branch-es. There was a great flut-ter a-bout his
head, and a low cry of Peep peep! peep!" just un-der his nose. He
found him-self close by a nest with some lit-tle new-born rob-ins in it.
" Oh!" he cried. Here is some-thing I nev-er should have seen with-
out my stilts. I knew those two birds that come to our kitch-en door
ev-er-y day had a nest near by, and here it is. How the poor old birds
cry! They think I am a great big stork, with my stilt-legs, and that I
am go-ing to eat up their young ones this ver-y min-ute. Well, you
fun-ny, lit-tie snip-per-snap-pers 1 You need not think you can eat up a
big fel-low on stilts, not if you split your heads a-part, o-pen-ing your
bills so wide! And I will just tell you one thing be-fore I go: boys are
not so bad as you think they are. I don't be-lieve there ev-er was a
boy who could look three, lit-tle young rob-ins straight in the face and
then do them a-ny harm at all. Tell that to your pa-rents. Good-bye !"


,,I .- r

I ,- -

"1 I). ,'

JACK- lc\ T 1 E PU IAl T'.

YOUR Jack has several things on his mind this
time to talk over with you, although he feels the
awkwardness of having to do so much of the talk-
ing himself.
In the first place, he would like to make sure
that every sizable boy in the land has read, or will
read, Brother Gladden's paper about city boys in
the March ST. NICHOLAS. The dear Little School-
ma'am says it is "perfectly splendid," and Deacon
Greene declares it is "invaluable." Now these
two always mean what they say; and it strikes me
that a perfectly splendid, invaluable paper must be
well worth reading, if only for the oddity of the
Besides this matter, there 's a dubious bit of
school news,-then some funny things I have heard
about beavers, and cats, and swallows, and water-
worms, and villages on house-tops, besides an in-
sectivorous letter from that wonderful Little School-
ma'am, to be delivered, and a choking story, that
is appropriately hard to swallow,-and,-and--
Well, the only way is to begin.
A LITTLE school-ma'am writes from a town
in Massachusetts that soon there are to be no
more truants from schools. The reason is that
there is to be a new way of teaching, in which the
scholars are to ask the questions and the teachers
are to answer them, or show the scholars how to do
so. And, besides, the reading-books are to be full
of pretty stories, fairy-tales and poems. What do
you think of that, my chicks ? Mind and let your
Jack know just as soon as the new, happy times
begin with you-if ever they do.
ONE of my friends in Iowa sends word that when
her brother-now a General in the United States
Army-was a boy, he was very fond of hunting,

and a great favorite with the grown-up hunters.
One of these took him on a bright moonlight night
in winter to see a strange sight.
The pair crept through the cold, clear air to the
home of some beavers. At the dain which the
beavers had built, the moon was reflected from the
ice with a great glare, and, in this light, the look-
ers-on saw the beavers have a splendid game of
coasting down a long slide, from the top of the
dam to the ice-covered stream below. The old
beavers gave the young ones rides on their broad,
flat tails; all slid down as gravely as judges, and
then climbed up to have another. They kept it
up until one of the watchers sneezed. At this, the
beaver sentinels sounded the alarm, and then all
was still-excepting that the lookers-on went away
laughing heartily at what they had seen.

.NOT bird-houses, but real dwellings of men ; and
the roof on which they are built is that of the vast
Cathedral of St. Peter, in Rome. The traveler
who tells about this says that the houses make
quite a little village, and that the persons who live
in it are the workmen who take care of the great
building beneath them.
DEAR JACK:-Please tell me if spiders and other insects have
hearts. A. E. C.
Here is the Little School-ma'am's letter in reply:
MlY DEAR JACK:-At your request, and for tie benefit of all
:. I send my answer to A. E. C.'s question.
,1 .... ,.1- .. i : hearts.
The heart, you know, is a kind of small force-pump. There
are muscles around it which keep squeezing and letting ._
and letting go, all life through. These muscles act- .I..r ..
wishing or direction by their owner. Every time they loosen their
grasp on the heart, the blood rushes in to fill it, and it becomes a
tiny reservoir; every time they squeeze, the blood is forced out into
the arteries with a throb, and starts on its long and winding journey
through the body. Finally, having done its errands by leaving all
along its path the materials for building up bone, and flesh, and
skin, and every other part of the body, the blood is gathered in a
thousand delicate veinlets, and at length finds its way in a single
stream to the lungs, where the exhausted blood is rested and mixed
with air and sent back to heart-headquarters to start on a new
;i. :lew burden of supplies. Ths is the way every sort
I .... .I Ih ., and each has a heart, though, in some of the small,
shapeless creatures that dwell in the water, and whose blood is thin
and white, the heart is not easy to find.
The spider's heart is large, and shaped more like a banana than
.. rl.;.-. se. It lies a little way under the skin of the back, in
I-. -. part of the body, and from each side of it start off
branches through which the blood flows to the head, the legs, and
the rest of the body 1,. .1. other insects are not formed pre-
cisely like this one, y. r I .. I carts.
But now, why is the spider called an insect? That is what I
should like to have A. E. C. or somebody tell me.
OF course, your Jack knows very well that birds
are not quite as good as human beings-are they?
You need not answer, my dears, until you have
read the li ,_ pt, I---, -
Up in the I'.. I. I i ....r .-,, parent swallows
take tender care of their brood. After the little
ones are grown up and can look well after them-
selves, the mother-bird lays more eggs, and, when
these are hatched, the older brothers and sisters join
with the father and mother in getting food for the
new little ones. The young birds that are able to fly
go hunting for grasshoppers, moths, and so on,




and carry these to their tiny brothers and sisters
in the nest, feeding them as carefully and lovingly
as if they were their parents."

THERE is a curious little fellow called a caddis-
worm," says D. C. B., and he lives in the water

a.1' -. 5-.'

and builds his own house. The picture shows him
in the bottle of water swimming among plants.
The piece of paper leaning against the glass gives
near its top a side view of him, without his house;
below there is a front view of this dwelling, and,

next, a back view of the little chap with the bumps
and hooks that dove-tail him securely in his home.
At the corner of the paper is a plan showing how
he builds,-crossing the straws and splinters near
their ends, and binding them together with a fine
silk, which he spins from himself.
In the circle you see him floating along in his
house, which is very light and gives him no trouble.
This is lucky for him, because, if he were to be long
without his covering, some hungry fish would
surely eat him up. But the house looks too prickly
to be comfortably swallowed.
In time, the caddis-worm comes to anchor,
closes up his front door with a strong silken net,
and becomes a pupa, with hooked jaws. These
jaws bite through the net, and the pupa gayly
swims away. By and by, it rises to the top of the
water, where its stiff skin breaks open and forms a
kind of boat, and in the boat appears a slender
little fly with beautiful wings. One of these Pies is
shown on the table-cloth in the picture, near the
foot of the bottle.
I once had a caddis-worm in my aquarium, and
gently took away his house. Then I gave him
some tiny bright-hued straws. At the close of
that same day, when I looked at him, I found that
the busy little fellow had built himself a new
house uith the tinted straws, and it was as gay
and bright as Joseph's coat of many colors."
Now, my hearers, who has seen a live caddis-
worm ? Look sharply for one in future, and, when
found, let your Jack hear about it.

DAR M1R. JACK: You may :1 i i 1 I *. ... -tout acuri-
ouspiec: .r in^i'n'r; by .,;I i, ... ,,..... the great
English I .''i 1 eng:. 1. i 1 unnel and
the "Gi., i r .a m-ship were made. These were great
achievements, but what I am going to tell you may be counted the
most important work of his life, for if it had failed he would have lost
his life.
One day, he was amusing his children by making a gold coin dis-
appear and re-appear by sleight of hand. At length, he tossed the
coin with a sudden swift movement into hI .... ,i. ;, 'nt a great
deal farther than he had meant, however, .I1 Il .. I 'his wind-
pipe, and almost choked him.
While the surgeons were hesitating, and calculating as to the
best point for cutting into the windpipe, Mr. Brunel suddenly took
his case into his own hands, as a mere piece of engineering. He had
found, while coughing and choking, that, when his body and head
were in a certain position, the coin lay edgewise in the windpipe; so
he caused a platform to be made on which lie could lie in that posi-
tion, his head down. On this platform he stretched himself, and had
i 1 .. .".-. .:. Ti. -n he made an assistant strike blow after
1- I. ..,i I .. I. I I he platform. As he had anticipated, each
.1. r.I .I i I '.1 .-. and it slipped by its own weight along
the windpipe. It required many hammer-taps, but at i ,.rL. 1-..
coin rolled through the throat, into the mouth and out upo *I.. ri
G. ai. K.
IN a certain Belgian town, cats are being trained
to run with messages, after the manner of carrier-
pigeons; only, of course, the cats go afoot.
Your Jack is glad that a new way has been found
to keep puss out of mischief, and give her some-
thing to do instead of catching birds. And there 's
another encouraging side to this scrap of news;
boys in Belgium must be growing gentler in their
ways with cats, for people would never trust a cat
alone with a message where the boys were ordinary
boys-or, at least, like some boys I 've heard of.




Ned went a-way on his stilts, and be-gan at once to tell his sis-ter
what he had found; and soon she, too, had a peep in-to the nest.



JACK stole and ate an ap-ple-pie,
And said it was the cat.
To hide his theft he told a lie
Oh, what is worse than that?
Up in the gar-ret he is locked,
And cry-ing, as you see,-
Two lit-tle mice are great-ly shocked
At such bad com-pa-ny.

Wa-ter and bread he has for food,
No cake, nor jam, nor cheese,
Un-til he says: "I will be good,
For-give me, if you please."
And he must pray that God his sin
Will par-don, if he try
Nev-er to steal-not e-ven a pin,
And nev-er tell a lie!





F-- ~ ~ -_--ei- P b --r irL.P --; -p---.--_- -
-- F 0- -
4lo3 w, Willi p I PT!,

1. Bye, ba by, day is o ver. Bees are drows-ing in the clo ver
3. Bye, ba by moth-er holds tee, Lov- in ten-der care en i I.I... -

__ _______ -
1. I P B--e, a a i .--

._ B- o- ca

Bye, ba by, bye! Now the sun to bed is glid ing,
Bye, ba by, bye! In the far off sky they twin kle,
Bye, ba by. bye! An gels in thy dreams ca ress thee,

6-- -j

All the pret ty flowers are hid ing-Bye, ba by, bye!
While the cows come, tin kle, tin kle,-Bye, ba by, bye!
Thro' the darkness guard and bless thee-Bye, ba by, bye!

--" -_ ----r .... ~ -------i-- ^-_- i- _---- --------

___ a a ___-
e & r Broaa, -' Y a use by ,'e I|ii l

Published in sheet form by Spear & Denhff, 777 Broadway, New York, and used by permission.




WALTER and Robert Lowry ask: Will you please tell us how to
tell a quail from a woodcock, by the markings? Who will answer
the question ?

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: A poem in the January number, entitled
"Bidding the Sun 'Good-Night' in Lapland," says the sun sets in
Lapland, and does not rise again for seven or eight months. Is that
true ? My parents and teachers say it is not true; and I read that
in Nova Zembla, which is farther north than Lapland, the nights are
only three months long. I am eleven years old.-Yours truly,
Here is what the author of the poem says in reply:
It is too much to say of Lapland in general that its people do not
see the sun "for more than half a year." But we know there are
many places, even among the White Mountains of New Hampshire,
where the sun rises so late and sets so early that the day is much
shorter than in ordinary localities near, and we can easily conceive
how, in a time when the sun rises but a little way above the horizon,
and that for only a few hours out of the twenty-four, a range of hills,
in the direction where it rises, must prevent its being seen from the
dark side of the hills, and from the valleys, "for more than half a
An article in Chambers' Journal" entitled "A Winter in Lap-
land," on which the poem was based, says: A Night that begins
in early October, and ends in June," and "I had actually seen the
sun go down into an obscurity that was to last the better part of a
year." This was written of Kublitz, a village where the writer
remained through one of these winter nights, and his account of it is
exceedingly interesting. Joy ALLISON.

FANNIE M. B.-Your question about the truth of the story, "A
Faithful Friend," printed in the February number, is answered in
the "Letter-Box" of the same issue.

phone, that wonderful instrument described by Aunt Fanny in the
February number, does enable deaf people to hear. The inventor's
agents are Messrs. Caswell, Hazard & Co., o099 Broadway, New

DEAR ST. Ti: .. n Last spring papa got sister and me four
prairie-dogs. D-.. ii.- sweet cake, and mamma gives us a piece
now and then for the dogs. They eat it just as sister and I do, sit
straight up, and put it into their mouths with their fore-paws. They
don't eat hazel-nuts, because their teeth are not strong enough, and
then, too, hazel-nuts don't grow near western prairie-dog towns.
They never drink water, but appear to be afraid of it, and never
leave their holes on damp or rainy days. They pile the dirt around.
Prairie-dogs look just like wee bears, but they don't stay in their
burrows all winter. Up to this time, ours have been out every pleas-
ant day, that is, 'most every day, because our Nebraska winter days
are nearly all pleasant. From your friend,

WE have received a letter from a good friend of Sr. NICHOLAS
finding fault with our Frontispiece in the January number, saying
that while it illustrates the meaning which is usually given to the old
nursery jingle-
"Hark! hark! The dogs do bark; the beggarsare coming to
Some in rags, and some in jags, and some in velvet gowns,"
-it does not illustrate the historical meaning of the rhyme. He adds:
The couplet is not descriptive of a band of ordinary mendicants,
but of the entrance into a town of a company of English strolling
players, who, when the rhyme was made, and long after, were in
British law not only classed as vagabonds, but were debarred the rites
of Christian burial.
The most trustworthy writers upon the drama have used this
couplet to illustrate the low condition of those early actors of old
England, who were not permitted to bear the distinguished title of
"His Majesty's Servants." 'The motley garments of "the beggars,"
that is, of the actors, are fully described in the last line, and the vel-
vet gown" distinctly indicates that the wearer was no ordinary alns-
seeker. These strolling actors, of the early period indicated by the

couplet, strolled from town to town, played in barns, and charged no
regular price for admission to the play, but accepted gifts, or, in other
words, took up a collection" from the spectators.
Both by the statutory law and the unwritten law of custom, these
strollers were ,. .-,.' .. "'vagrants," and they wereaswidely
known by the ..t.. as by any other. Yet they were
not maimed, halt, blind, nor wretched, but very merry "vagabonds,"
and the memory of them is very pleasant to me. L. C. D.
The letter is printed as an act ofjustice to the strolling players, and
because it will interest our older readers.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Mamma and Papa, and all of us children,
have fine nimes making words for each other to spell. Each letter is
on a little piece of card, and we shuffle them all together. Here are
some that we had the most fun over-my aunt brought them to us
from North Elba, in the Adirondack Mountains: L A S E I: Papa
made out this word. NCOTAESR S; my brother found out this
one. And here is another which they say was made by the Earl of
Beaconsfield one evening for the I ... 1, 1. I.11.. '
with after she made it out. BA L t i.. .. ..
it out yet. I send these to you, because I think some of the boys
and girls may like to try them. They are good English words in
common use. I wish some of the ST. NICHOLAs boys and girls.
would send some.good ones to the Letter-Box."-Your affectionate
reader, C. D.

ELLA B. AND OTHERS.-All readers of ST. NICHOLAS, whether
they are subscribers or not, are welcome to send letters to the.
" Letter-Box." But there is room only for the best of those letters
which are likely to interest the greatest number of readers.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This evening the girl turned the gas bracket
so that the flame came close to the sash and under the window-shade,
throwing a bright light into the yard. And then she went into the.
yard to take down the clothes from the line. Of course, the gas
flame set fire to the shade, which blazed up. Our Beta, a little girl
of ten years, was in a front room and saw the blaze through the door-
way. So she ran, got upon a table, tore down the shade, threw it on
the floor, and poured water on the shade until the fire was out. When
asked how she came to think of doing this, she said: "I read about
the Practical Fairy in the January ST. NICHOLAS, and thought I
could do as she did." We-all think it was brave of her, and that the
other ST. NICHOLAS girls will like to know about it.-Yours truly,
B. T.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Please tell me whether or not the story of
" How the Elephants turned back in the December number of ST.
NICHOLAS is true, and where an account of it can be found.
Louts L. CURTIs.
The story is given in McClintock and Strong's "Cyclopmdia ot
Biblical, Theological and Ecclesiastical Literature," under the head
of Maccabees-Third Book."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : In looking over your pages I saw in the
March number of 1876, an account of the Man in the Iron Mask,"
and that his name had never been found out Not long ago, I saw
in a paper an account that at last he had been found out, in this
One day, it is said, a few days before his death, the door of his:
cell being open, a certain Jean Aumont received rlir--.l- during a
few moments' absence of the jailer, a letter from 1.. .. Mask,
which, for precaution's sake, doubtless, had been written in inde-
cipherable characters. The prisoner, on remitting it to Aumont,
began to explain the method of reading it, when suddenly the jailer
returned. Jean Aumont kept the letter until his death, being unable
to read it, and then it passed into the hands of his son Auguste
Aumont, who, after .r.-i l-- mn -hi t- read it. This is the
letter: "Ifmy sad .. happiness of France,
grant me, Lord, the strength to endure it. Louis Louvais and ye,
their accomplices, whose names I may not mention, God will one
day judge you most severely. -"h -r ,-'r't have I committed, unless
that of being born a French :..... i have offered you to quit
France, to go and live and die far away, unknown. Was it not
enough? Alas! royalty seems to me very terrible, when it thus
renders kings criminals. Oh, Louis, hast thou then no remorse
when thinking of the sufferings that I' endure? May these lines
escape one day from my prison and belong to history. From my-
tomb, I will bless him who will have transmitted them. May God
bless the beloved France--such will my prayer ever be. You who



will read these lines, pity the poor 'Iron Mask,' and pray to God
for him. From the Bastille, the 2oth of June of the year 1703."
He died on the iptri of .N- mhe r- In) was buried, under
the name of "Morchialy," -.. I ;._,.. l t. Paul, his parish.
He died on Monday and was I....: I I.
Your reader and friend,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: One day, a little Western boy had his pet
dog photographed, and, when he saw the portraits, he said to his
"! -. -'t I send one to the man in America who loves dogs the
best a
Certainly," said his father.
After a time, they sent the picture to Mr. James H. Beard. For,"
said they, "he could not paint dogs so well if he did not love them
very much."

I hope you will print this and the picture, for it will surprise the
boy and Mr. Beard, neither of 1 ...1.. .. ... i ..... send-
ing the photograph to you. I i.. se.. ....... .....se the
dog, who was a smart little chap when last I saw him.---- r.- 1
1 I-i : !

THE remarkable clock mentioned in the article about Wonderful
Automata," in the February number, was the first of its kind made
in America; but J. Willie Stone sends a description of a later Ameri-
can clock, even more wonderful than this, and made in Hazleton,
Pennsylvania, by Stephen D. Engle. The clock has forty-eight
moving figures; but its description is printed at great length, and so
only the gist of it can be given here. The whole machine looks like
the front or facade of a cathedral, with three square towers, the
middle tower being the tallest, about ten feet high.
The towers spring from a base, which is eight feet wide and rather
more than four feet high. The sides of this lower part are orna-
mental, but the middle has a small globe representing the earth and
some complicated astronomical mechanism.
In the lower half of one of the side towers is an organ, and, when-
ever this plays, two figures appear, with harp and pipes, in the upper
half of the tower.
In the lower part of the other side tower a mechanical fife is hid,
and in the upper section are twenty figures of soldiers of Revolu-
tionary times, including Moll Pitcher. When the fife plays, the
troops march boldly on to take part in some battle-that of Mon-
mouth, perhaps.
The middle tower contains in the lower part a clock, to show the
time, the tides, the seasons, the changes of the moon, the months,
and the days of the week. At the top of this tower, a Roman sen-

tinel keeps marching to and fro behind battlements, facing about at
each end of his beat.
In the middle parts of the tower are more figures, some in niches,
some shut in by doors that lead into a small open court, and others
upon a balcony. These figures act as follows:
When the hour-hand approaches the first, quarter, Father Time
reverses his hour-glass and strikes one on a bell with his scythe, a
bell inside the clock responding, and Youth appears. Three minutes
previous to the half-hour a bell strikes, followed by the music of the
organ. At the half-hour, Time reverses his glass and strikes two on
the bell, a bell inside responding. Then Youth passes and Man-
hood appears. One minute after this, a chime of bells is heard, a
folding door opens in the lower porch and another at the right of the
court, and the Savior comes out. Then the Apostles appear in pro-
cession, Peter in the center and Judas in the rear. As the first one
approaches the Savior, a folding door opens in the balcony above,
and the three Marys come out in single file and stand-Mary, the
sister of the Virgin, on the left, the Virgin Mary in the center, and
Mary Magdalene on the right. As the Apostles come opposite the
Savior, they turn toward Him. The Savior bows to them, except to
Peter, who turns in the opposite direction; then a cock on the right
flaps his wings and crows, and Satan appears above at a window,
and a figure of Justice raises her scales. Judas, as he advances, does
not look upon the Savior; Satan follows immediately after on foot,
and goes back the same way he came, to appear again above at
another window. Satan appears six times at different places. At
the third quarter, Father Time strikes three with his scythe and
turns his hour-glass, when three bells respond.
Then Manhood passes and Old Age comes into view. Three
minutes previous to the hour, the organ peals again, and as the hour
arrives, the skeleton figure of Death strikes its number with a human
thigh bone on a skull. One minute after, the procession of the
Apostles again takes place. Besides these two regular movements,
the Apostles' procession may be made to occur twice on the first
quarter, and twice again on the third, making, in all, six processions
each hour.

P. J. B.-The Legeln o the Ground-hog," which you ask about,
is explained in the following letter'from the author of the poem in the
March number:
The ground-hog, a bright, wary little rodent, chiefly abounds in
the Southern States. He makes his winter quarters in a deep hole
which he burrows into the ground, andin this he sleeps throughout
the cold season, far below the reach of frost. His only sustenance
during this tim.: ..i :..; i.;. paw, which, curiously enough,
is always the I .. i i. .. 2, never sooner, he comes out
from his hole, and, if the d 1.1 1. i .. to be a bright one, so
that he sees his shadow, I.. ,.'', .. rind hurries back to his
hole, there to stay six weeks longer. If the day is dull, and he can-
not see his shadow, he keeps out until the cold weather sets in again.
Now, as to his I I i -..., ri. weather. February Second is Can-
dlemas Day, and .. .. that if Candlemas Day is bright and
sunshiny, six weeks of hard winter weather are sure to follow,-if the
contrary, ,.. .11 I 1.1 I .I ,,i This tradition became linked
with the habits of t'- -,r.in- h-. and what is called Candlemas
Day, according to r..- i. i. I. .. is called Ground-hnr DI" in
this country. WILLIAM M. I *.

A LITTLr boy of ten years, who has lived all his life in a poor
quarter of New York without once being in the country, and who,
perhaps, never saw a real live ox or cow close by, wrote the following
"composition" about "The Ox:"

Kingdom. TyPc. Class. Ordcr. Family.
Animal, Vertebrate, : Mammal, Cud-chewing, Ox.
The ox has a long and round body, it has a large and broad head,
: ... 1 .., i.." 1 is put into mortar, its skin made into
l.i i h" t i. i. -. -1---f- l--f itshoofis madeinto
glue. The female ox is called H. i. ... Iich it gives us milk;
the young ox is called the calf. GEORGE R. C.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My cousin had such a curious dream a
few weeks ago, that I thought I would write and tell you about it.
She dreamt there was a sign on the moon telling the people that
the earth war -c-nrin n"ut n-l that they must fly to Venus. It also
told them to I : I: r,. I, :'i and fasten them around their waists
so they could fly. Just as every one was flying up to Venus, my
cousin's belt broke, she fell to the earth and woke. She is eleven
years old, and so am I.-Your reader, H. S. GonooN, JR.




I. A POINT in the heavens, directly under the place where wc stand.
2. To worship. 3. Birds of the pigeon family. 4. An Empress of
Constantinople. 5. To put into place again. D. w.

LTH heads united spell a poet's name;
The tails set forth a work that earned him fame.

First cite an actress great, Old England's pride;
A famed philosopher set by her side.
Add to the pair a fiery Spanish saint;
A great Italian, next, who loved to paint.-
Choose then a holy and a festive day;
And name a king of France long passed away.
A Yankee chief call next,- who, long ago,
Fought oft and bravely againstt the British foe.
Take what can not be paired however you strive;
And what is never less than fifty-five.
For tenth a Jew who hears o ...i .. sway;
Eleventh, a prophet-priest of 1* I
For twelfth, a writer old, a wonder, too;
Thirteenth, a Queen in "fourteen ninety-two."
The next is less than nothing and yet more;
The last a Roman bard in days of yore.


,,' ,
'' I I Ii'i l i ,', '

'', "',

,HE name of this man's rare is to he found, and then the letters

S, d w o e

yo' may find a. he uea, that nap rth A slight
..I i

IiT- I-- I,

-I '. 'I


-- "
--- ,
S-- __ __ -- --o -:,
1 -.. - --. -

1:HE name of this man's race is to be found, and then the letters
of that name are to be re-arranged so as to spell the name of an East
Indian dye of a deep blue color, and the name also of a space set
apart for a special purpose.

I HAVE five letters, and am welcomed once every year. In me
you may find: I. The ocean that enwraps the earth. 2. A slight

illness. 3. A couple. 4. What two persons tried to carry up-hill.
5. What one of them received on his head. 6. That on which he
perched, bemoaning his ill-luck, 7. What the other found in her
dress. 8. Where she sat while her mother soothed her. 9. Many a
jar has it. o1. One who defies conscience through fear. T.

I. IN accurate. 2. A pole. 3. A pleasant beverage. 4. The
female of the fallow-deer. 5. In acre. N. B. L.

EACH of the following examples gives part of the name of some
mountain .. ... :- .... I .. every otherletter being represented
by a dash. .... .. I i is given the name of the continent
or country to which the name belongs.
------------ Eastern Africa. 2. -r-r-t; Armenia.
3. -o--, .... .. 4. -t-a-; Algeria. 5. -1-s; Central
Europe. 6. -r-1; Russian Empire. 7. -o-i-a-; Afghanistan.
[To SYNCOPATE is to shorten a word by taking away from the middle
of it a letter, or letters, or a syllable.)
i. Syncopate kingly and leave genuine. 2. Syncopate a soldier's
reward, and leave a necessary part of every day's living. 3. Synco-
pate firm, and leave old. 4. Syncopate speedy, and leave an inva-
sion. 5. Syncopate a ditch, and leave a European fresh-water fish.
6. Syncopate grim, and leave a substance that oozes out of trees.

AcRoss.-i. A seat for one. 2. A short poem. 3. In adumbrate.
4. A beverage of T 'i 5. Wants. Central Perpendicular,
To render corner, i i'-.: i (downward): From left to right,
Systems of laws; Irom right to left, Part of a fortification.
C. D.
THE balmy Spring in beauty re-appears.
Sweet r..;i either smiles or tears, has comic.
Pausing I the earth, she disappears.
Then May doth wander by to coax it into bloom.

Down by the brook, whose water looks so clear,
Now from each bank the greening willows sweep
To kiss the little eddies circling near,
And lean as though entranced above the sparkling deep.

The stream, all dimpling at those kisses, slides
Past many a grassy knoll and darkling cave,
Till clearer, deeper than before, it glides
Into the waiting lake, whelmed in a watery grave

The crocus wakes to keep its tryst with Spring,
Kissed and caressed to life by April's sun.
Laden with sweets, soon June will roses bring,
And May repose because her work is done.

THE initials name a city of Scotland, the finals a city of England.
Cross-words: x. A title of nobility. 2. A city of Hindosian. 3.
Four. 4. Part of a church. 5. A shield. 6. Rise! 7. A famous
bridge in Venice. 8. An Italian who planned a beautiful tower,
which he did not live to finish. 9. A shed. D. w.

lM first is in come, but not in go;
My second in arrow, not in bow:
My third is in mountain, not in hollow;
My fourth is in pain, but not in soirow;
My fifth is in rosin, not in gum;
My sixth is in toy, but not in drum.
Of a bird of song here find the name,
And the isle from which the song-bird came.

WE are two words often heard at this season, and we have twelve
letters in all. A little girl once said of us that, if she should happen
to be caught in any I, 2, 3, 4, ; 6, 7, 8, 9, xo, 11, 12, they and the
mud they make would be sure to 12, 8, 4, 5 7, xo, ix 9, 3, x, 2, 6.








[AN anagram is made by taking the letters of some word or words, and re-arranging them in such a way as to spell another word or words.?
Each of the following anagrams is made up of just the same letters, no more, no fewer, which spell the name of some object represented
in the accompanying picture. The
problem is to name the objects
Here are the anagrams: i.
Charon. 2. Saw her. 3. Hold
pin! 4. Holdsure! 5.Oh,must! "/
6. Fringes. 7. Yes, we rob 8.
Blew so. 9. Bolster. To. Red -
tint. o. Land, eh? 12. A list.

WHO is the first small boy men-
tioned in American History ?

son. 2. T-rack. 3. S-oak. 4.
W-eight. 5. S-word. 6. D-ice.
--. Congregational. a. Predes-
tination. 3. Independence. 4.
Exclamations. 5. Hemisphere. 6. -
Idolators. 7. Denominations.
Minister, Minster, Mister, Miser.
five words: I. Ale. 2. Grate. 3.
Players. 4. Steam. 5. Err. Dia-
mond: L. 2. RAt. 3. LaYer. i
4. TEa. 5. R.
WHAT AM I?-Yard-stick.
Paris. Finals: Helen. Cross-
words: x. PlougH. 2. AriadnE. -
3. RilL. 4. IrenE. 3. SaladiN.
SQUARE-WORD.-I. Craft. 2.
Razor. 3. Azure. 4. Forms. 5.
TIC.-March winds.
Some boys love a top, and some love a gun,
But you must love your books, my son.

EASY DISENTANGLEMENTS.-i. Aleppo. 2. Garden. 3. Skipping.
4. Yelps. 5. Arbutus. 6. Spaniel.
NUMERICAL ENIGMoA.-United we stand, divided we fall.

So MANY solutions have been sent that there is room only for the solvers' irh-ri ----cti.- -here the solver has answered all the
puzzles correctly. Answers to Puzzles in the February number were received, I .. : i :I ....; :. ... M., and T. Jenks, 18 (all) and from
E. McC., 3-F. E. P., 15-C. B. Z., 3-E. and E. J., 8-" Molly and Merry," 4-"Beauty," 3-H. S., 6-F. D. S., 12-G. R. M., 14-
"Box 399," I5-E. F. P., 3-B. C. B., i2-H. S. M., x-M. B. C., 3-P. C. H., 9-A. H. C., --A. M. G., 6-F. W. C., b-F. T., 2-
F. H. and S. T. P., 9-M. M., 9-S. P., 6-A. Z. H., 14-J. D. B., 6-B. J. T., x-M. K. G., i-E L. B., 4-N. S. F., 6-G. A. H., 12
-D. B. H., 4-S. A. H., i-W. H. A., 2-E. S. G., 4-P. C. K., 6-G. Y. and J. C., o-L. W. N., x-E. M. B., xo-C. H. P. n-A. M.
K., 12-W. H. W., 9-A. E., anidE., W., x3-C. M., I-M. and L., 3-J. W., 7-S. and E. D., 8-F. L. K., 5--S. H., 4-S. C., 8-F.
C., i-L. B., i5-H. T., 4-M. F., o--F. L., io-W. L., i-G. F. 2-X. Y. S., --H. B. W., 4-S. M., and L. L. L., 4-R. S.
McI.,9-J. D. P., 2-" Blankes," 14-J. S., 8-G. A. M., I-S. H. R., 7-F. W., r-M. L.S., -"Diamond and Pearl," 8--W. T. N.,
13-A. D. W., x-W. H. L., x-H. E. R., and C. R. T., co-W. P., 8-R. S., i-E. D., o B. M., 9-C. L. H., 9-E. E.J., 3-"Cathie,"
4-L. H. D. St. V., xx-W. G. T., 9-"Craigielea," 13-C. R. McM., r-A., and G., T., 8-M. B., a-G., and W., H., i-C. P., to-
H. C. B., r6-G. M., 6-L. L. Van L, x--L. M. S., 2-A. F. M., 6-G. E. McI., 8--W. S. C., 13-J. S. Jr., 3-H. W., and J. K. B., 13
-A. H. L., 2-M. E., and F. M., 14-R. E. P., i-N. C. K., 8-P. and M., 8-L. P., x-E. L. H., 6-1. C., To-W. G. D., 2-L. T.
E. B., i-M. M., x2-B. W. B., 7-G. M., 6-B. McI., 9-- A. E., lo-W. C., 8-C. S. L., Jr., 8-A. C P. O., _-C. B. G., 3-E. M.
T.,9-J. R. T., 17-G. H. W., 15-M. M., xo-"Jack and Jill, 17-C. I., 4-E. T. S., 4-"Two Black Point Girls." 15-L. W., i-C.
F., n-" Cousin Charlie and Mallie," 9-L. and A., 12-N. and J., i-Annie C. Reynes, x--D. C. W., Jr., 4-G. G. G. and L. B. S., 7-
N. J., rx-F. D., --N. E. H., so-A. H., and L. W., 8-W. A. McL., 8-W. F. B., i--L. G., and J. R., 6-A. and H. M., 3-A. A.
J., 9-M. H. T., 5-C. F. R., xo-L. P., io-A. T. T., o--L. C. E., 8-L. I. F., 4-J. H., 3-" Bessie and her Cousin," 15-V. C., 13-
B. H., --G. McL., 8-J. B. L., IT-L. V. N., 8-B. T., 8-" Two Little Canucks," c2-A. F. S., 2-B. H., and E. M., 6-H. P
M., 12-L. C., 14-A. M. A., --1 c-A. H., and G. F. I.. ix-M. and J., --S. E. H., 3-" More and More," 2--J. E. D., 7-
"Dandelion andClover," I-B. : o-T. P. ,-W. D. D., 7-E. A. M., 7-E M. K., 4-F. W., 14-L. H., i6-E. G., i-
R. W. B., 8-R. A. G., 9-W. E. L., 1o-E. S. and A. K., 8-G. H. S., 4-H. R. and Co., 7-C. H. E., 5-" Clove Pink," 17-F. H. M.,
9-"Dorothy," 8-K. B. B., 6-J. W. K., 6-M. and H. B., 2-"Winnie," oo-M. J. G. and H. L. C.. 7-S. 0., and M. C -r and
V. C., 6-E. B. C., o3-C. A., i-C. K. R., 4--P. S. C., "-W. B. W., Ii-F. M. H. 7-H. 0., 14-"Dycie," o-T. G., -. S.,
1o-E. F., 4-R. H. R., z2-A. and T. S., x6-J. M. W., 9-C. F., 2-E. T. S., io-P. S. I --- E. McL.. 7-N. De G., 14--S
T. C., I-M. and M. C., x2-A. M. C. and L. L. C., 2-J. I. N., 5--E. A. G., 3-0. B. J., x: i I i 7-E. S. T., 2-B. and S., x
-S. S., 3-J. N., 6-E. T. W., 3-A. M. P., 8-R. L. M., 6-C. D. H., 6-B. B., 8-E. F. J., oo--W. McD., 3-M. M. D., 14-E. V.,
x3-E. B. S., i-F. and H, S., x-F. S. A., Jr., n-J. E. P., 6--G. A. N., 15-E. L. R., 5-H. and B., io-G. and C. W., 13-J.
H. McC., ro-N. H., x5-M. and D. S., 7-M. W. P., 4-D. A. C., --Impatieus, 14-0. C. T., 14-K. H. K., 7- C H. H., t2-M.
and sister, 5-C. and J. B., 4-N. A., 2z-M. and M., it-B. R. M., x3. The numerals denote the number of puzzles solved.

S..W--,-. _

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