• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 A talk with girls and their...
 Fairy photographs
 Two more of the major's big-talk...
 The field-sparrow
 The story of Lizbeth and the...
 Jack and Jill
 Oriental jugglery
 The full-dress adventures of Miss...
 A term at the district school
 Curious facts concerning ants
 What they said
 The Fairmont nine
 The Japanese fan
 Sally's soldier
 A. D. 1695
 Topsyturvy's dream
 Ancient history
 How to care for the sick
 My lady is eating her mush
 The boy and the giant
 Christmas eve
 Little speckle has laid an egg
 Jack in the pulpit
 The true and sad ballad of Sir...
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00087
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
regular
 Subjects
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
 Notes
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
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: VID00087
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: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front cover 1
        Front cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front matter
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece
    A talk with girls and their mothers
        Page 521
        Page 522
        Page 523
        Page 524
        Page 525
    Fairy photographs
        Page 526
        Page 527
        Page 528
    Two more of the major's big-talk stories
        Page 529
        Page 530
        Page 531
        Page 532
    The field-sparrow
        Page 533
    The story of Lizbeth and the 'baby'
        Page 533
        Page 534
        Page 535
    Jack and Jill
        Page 536
        Down brakes
            Page 536
            Page 537
            Page 538
        The twenty-second of February
            Page 539
            Page 540
            Page 541
            Page 542
            Page 543
            Page 544
    Oriental jugglery
        Page 545
        Page 546
        Page 547
    The full-dress adventures of Miss Moriarty
        Page 548
        Page 549
    A term at the district school
        Page 550
        Page 551
        Page 552
        Page 553
    Curious facts concerning ants
        Page 554
        Page 555
        Page 556
        Page 557
        Page 558
        Page 559
        Page 560
    What they said
        Page 561
    The Fairmont nine
        Page 562
        Ringing the bell
            Page 562
            Page 563
            Page 564
            Page 565
            Page 566
        The great match
            Page 567
            Page 568
            Page 569
            Page 570
            Page 571
            Page 572
    The Japanese fan
        Page 573
    Sally's soldier
        Page 574
        Page 575
        Page 576
        Page 577
    A. D. 1695
        Page 578
        Page 579
    Topsyturvy's dream
        Page 580
        Page 581
        Page 582
        Page 583
    Ancient history
        Page 584
        Page 585
    How to care for the sick
        Page 586
        Page 587
    My lady is eating her mush
        Page 588
    The boy and the giant
        Page 589
        Page 590
        Page 591
    Christmas eve
        Page 592
    Little speckle has laid an egg
        Page 593
    Jack in the pulpit
        Page 594
        Page 595
    The true and sad ballad of Sir Christopher Wren
        Page 596
    The letter-box
        Page 597
        Page 598
    The riddle-box
        Page 599
        Page 600
    Back Matter
        Back matter
    Back Cover
        Back cover 1
        Back cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text















iAfl



















































































SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN.

DRAWN iY MISS FIDELLIA BRIDGES.

[See page 596.]
















ST. NICHOLAS.




[. MAY, i880. ~ :

[Copyright, 1880, by Scribner & Co.]


A TALK WITH GIRLS AND THEIR MOTHERS.

BY WASHINGTON GLADDEN.


"BUT there are girls, too, in the cities and the
towns. Do not they deserve to be talked with in a
friendly way, as well as the boys? Have n't you
something to say to them ?"
.Thus a chorus of girls, and their mothers.
I confess to you, maidens and matrons, that the
task to which you thus summoned me was one that
I undertook with some diffidence. When I was
talking to boys I was sure of my ground. Some-
thing about boys I do know, for I have been a boy;
but the wisdom of experience fails me when I try
to discuss the problems of life as they present
themselves to girls. That I might have something
worth saying I determined, therefore, to seek in-
struction by sending a circular letter to a large
number of those who once were girls, but who now
are women of experience and reputation, asking
them to tell me-
I. What are the most common defects in the
training of our girls ?
"2. What principles of conduct are most im-
portant, and what habits most essential, to the
development of a useful and noble womanhood?"
This circular brought me more than forty letters,
and it is upon the truths contained in these letters
that this talk will be founded. I only undertake
to reflect, in an orderly way, some of the'advice of
these wise women. I shall give you their words
sometimes, and sometimes my own. *
I shall find it necessary, now and then, to turn
in this talk from the girls to their mothers. In-
deed, a large share of what is written in these
letters is intended for mothers rather than for girls,
and cannot, therefore, be so freely used in this
place as I should like to use it; but the girls are
VOL. VII.-35.


generous enough, I am sure, to be willing that
their mothers, and their fathers too, should have
some share of the advice.
In the first place, then, girls make a great mis-
take in being careless about their health. I dc
not know that they are any more careless than
boys, but their habits of life, and especially their
habits of dress, are generally more injurious. to
health than those of boys. The great majority of
our girls take much less vigorous exercise in the
open air than is good for them: those who can
walk three or four miles without exhaustion are
exceptions.
"It seems to me a mistake," says one of my
correspondents, "that boys and girls should be
trained so differently, particularly in regard to out-
of-door sports. With a strong love for everything
in nature, I remember as a child what torture it
was to be kept always in-doors, in some feminine
employment, while my strong brothers (strong on
this very account, perhaps) could spend.all their
leisure time in the open air. I was much inter-
ested years ago in reading a sketch of Harriet
Hosmer's girlhood. Her father, having lost all his
children by consumption, and finding her delicate,
resolved to bring her up as a boy, teaching her all
sorts of athletic sports, and thus making her a
strong, healthy woman."
The lack of exercise on the part of girls is due,
no doubt, in part, to the foolish styles of dress, in
which it is impossible for them to be out in rough
weather, or to make any considerable muscular
exertion. The lack of warmth in clothing, and
the foolish adjustment of what is worn," is said in
one of these letters to be one of the chief causes


VOL. VII


No. 7.






A TALK WITH GIRLS AND THEIR MOTHERS.


that produce "the peculiar nervous diseases to
which women are subject."
I wish I could make you all understand how
great a mistake you make when you sacrifice
health, or the physical comfort on which health
depends, to appearance or to any other earthly
good; when you neglect to provide, by regular ex-
ercise and wise care, a good stock of physical vigor
for the labors and the burdens of the coming years.
Without this foundation, all that you can learn in
school, and all that wealth can buy for you, will be
worthless. Intellect in an enfeebled body," says
some one whom I quote from memory, "is like
gold in a spent swimmer's pocket,-it only makes
him sink the sooner."
Another great mistake that many of our girls
are making, and that their mothers are either en-
couraging or allowing them to make, is that of
spending their time out of school in idleness, or in
frivolous amusements, doing no work to speak of,
and learning nothing about the practical duties
and the serious cares of life. It is not only in the
wealthier families that the girls are growing up in-
dolent and unpracticed in household work; indeed,
I think that more attention is paid to the industrial
training of girls in the wealthiest families, than in
the families of mechanics and of people in moderate
circumstances, where the mothers are compelled to
work hard all the while.
Within the last week," says one of my corre-
spondents, "I have heard two mothers, worthy
women in most respects, say, the first, that her
daughter never did any sweeping. Why, if she
wants to say to her companions, : I never swept a
room in my life,' and takes any comfort in it, let
her say it; and yet that mother is sorrowing much
over the short-comings of that very daughter. The
other said she would not let her daughter do any-
thing in the kitchen. Poor deluded woman She
did it all herself, instead "
The habits of indolence and of helplessness that
are thus formed are not the greatest evils resulting
from this bad practice : the selfishness that it fos-
ters is the worst thing about it. How devoid of
conscience, how lacking in all true sense of tender-
ness, or even of justice, a girl must be, who will
thus consent to devote all her time out of school to
pleasuring, while her mother is bearing all the
heavy burdens of the household! And the foolish
way in which mothers themselves sometimes talk
about this, even in the presence of their children,
is mischievous in the extreme. "0 Hattie is so
absorbed with her books, or her crayons, 'or her
embroidery, that she takes no interest in household
matters, and I do not like to call upon her." As
if the daughter belonged to a superior order of
beings, and must not soil her hands or ruffle her


temper with necessary house-work! The mother is
the drudge; the daughter is the fine lady for whom
she toils. No mother who suffers such a state of
things as this can preserve the* respect of her
daughter; and the respect of her daughter no
mother can afford to lose.
The result of all this is to form in the minds of
many girls not only a distaste for labor, but a con-
tempt for it, and a purpose to avoid it as long as
they live by some means or other.
There is scarcely one of these forty letters which
does not mention this as one of the chief errors in
the training of our girls at the present day. It is.
not universal, but it is altogether too prevalent.
And I want to say to you, girls, that if you are
allowing yourselves to grow up with such habits of
indolence and such notions about work, you are
preparing for yourselves a miserable future.
Work," says one of my letters,-and it is writ-
ten by a woman who does not need to labor for
her own support, and who does enjoy with a keen
relish the refinements of life,-" work, which you
so plainly showed to be good for our boys, is quite
as necessary for our girls."
Closely connected with what has just been said,
is the mistake of many girls in making dress the
main business of life. I quote now from one of
my letters, whose writer has had unusual oppor-
tunities of observing the things she describes:
From the time when the little one can totter
to the mirror to see how sweetly she looks in her
new hat,' to the hour when the bride at the altar
gives more thought to the arrangement of her train
and veil than to the vows she is taking upon her-
self, too large a share of time and thought is de-
voted by mothers and daughters to dress."
I have heard," writes one of my correspond-
ents, a vain mother say of her beautiful baby,
I 'm so glad it 's a girl; I can dress her so much
finer than I could a boy.'" 0 woman woman !
to what depths of degradation you have sunk when
you can look into the face of a baby lying in your
lap,-the face of a child that God has given you to
train for the service of earth and the glory of
heaven,-and have such a thought as that find a
moment's lodgment in your mind The pity of it,
the pity of it, that children should ever be given to
such women It is one of the inscrutable things of
Providence. What can such a woman do but de-
stroy the souls of her children ?
Listen to these strong words of another corre-
spondent:
From the cradle to the casket, and including
them both, the important question is not of the
spirit and its destiny, but of the frail house of the
soul,-how much money it can be made to repre-
sent,-what becomes it, and is it all in the latest


[MAY,


522






A TALK WITH GIRLS AND THEIR MOTHERS.


fashion. The occasional sight of a young girl sim-
ply and girlishly dressed is like a sight of a white
rose after a bewildering walk through lines of holly-
hocks and sunflowers. It is generally conceded
that early tastes leave indelible results in character.
What may be prophesied for the future of our girls
with their banged, befrizzed hair, jingling orna-
ments and other fashions, which some one has well
characterized as 'screaming fashions' ? "
It is not that there is any harm in thinking
about dress, or in wishing to be tastefully attired;
it is only that personal appearance comes to be in
the minds of so many of you the one subject, to
which everything else is subordinate. This weak-
ness, if indulged, must belittle and degrade you.
I do not think that the girls, or their mothers,
are wholly to blame for this absorbing devotion to
dress. The vanity of women is stimulated by the
foolishness of men. A young woman who is mod-
estly and plainly clad is much less likely to attract
the notice of young men than one who is gorgeous-
ly arrayed. From bright, intelligent, finely cult-
ured, sensible girls, whose chief adorning is not the
adorning of braided hair, or golden ornaments,
or of gay clothing, the young men often turn away
in quest of some creature glittering in silks and
jewelry, with a dull mind and a selfish heart. But
I beseech you to remember, girls, that a young
man who cares for nothing but "style" in a woman
is a young man whose admiration you can well
afford to do without. If that is all he cares for in
you, you cannot trust his fidelity; when you and
your finery have faded, some bird in gayer feathers
than you are wearing will easily entice him away
from you, and the sacred ties of marriage and
parentage will prove "io barrier to his wayward
fancies. The girl who catches a husband by fine
dress too often finds that the prize she has won is
a broken heart.
Another mistake that many of our girls are
making is in devoting too much of their time to
novel-reading. The reading of an occasional novel
of pure and healthful tone may be not only an in-
nocent diversion, but a good mental stimulant;
but the reading of the lighter sort of novels (which,
if they do not teach bad morality, do represent life
in a morbid and unreal light, and awaken cravings
that never can be satisfied), and the reading of one
or two or three of them in a week, as is the com-
mon habit of many of our girls, must prove griev-
ously injurious to their minds and hearts. It is
mental dissipation ofavery dangerous sort; its influ-
ence is more insidious than, but I am not sure that
it is not quite as fatal to character as, the habitual
use of strong drink. Certainly the mental dissipa-
tion of novel-reading is vastly more prevalent than
the other sort of dissipation, not only in "the best


society," but in the second best, as well; and five
women's lives are ruined by the one where one life
is wrecked by the other. "Ruined," do I say ?
Yes; no weaker word tells the whole truth. This
intemperate craving for sensational fiction weakens
the mental grasp, destroys the love of good read-
ing, and the power of sober and rational thinking,
takes away all relish from the realities of life,
breeds discontent and indolence and selfishness,
and makes the one who is addicted to it a weak,
frivolous, petulant, miserable being. I see girls
all around me in whom these results are working
themselves out steadily and fatally.
Another mistake which our girls are making-
or which their parents are making-is a too early
initiation into the excitements and frivolities of
what is called society. It was formerly the rule for
girls to wait until their school-days were over before
they made their appearance in fashionable society.
At what age, let us inquire, does the ax erage young
lady of our cities now make her debut? From my
observations, I should answer at about the age of
three. They are not older than that when they
begin to go to children's parties, for which they are
dressed as elaborately as they would be for a fancy
ball. From this age onward they are never out of
society; by the time they are six or eight years old
they are members of clubs, and spend frequent
evenings out, and the demands of social diversion
and display multiply with their years.
I think," writes one of my correspondents,
who loves little girls, the greatest defect in the
training of girls is in letting them think too much
of their clothes and of the boys. Little girls that
ought to be busy with their books and their dolls
are often dressed up like dolls themselves, and en-
couraged to act in a coquettish manner that many
of their elders could not equal."
"It seems to me." writes another, "that one
prominent defect in our modern training of girls is
undue haste in making them society young ladies,
and cultivating a fondness for admiration by lavish
display of dress. Before leaving the nursery, many
a child does penance by being made a figure on
which a vain mamma may gratify her taste in
elegant fabrics and exquisite laces to be exhibited
at a fashionable children's party. This trait-easily
becomes a ....1I1..I1..1 one, and girls scarcely in
their teens, with the blase manner of a woman of
the world, will scan a lady's dress, tell you at once
the quality of the material, the rarity of the laces,
the value of the jewels-even venture an opinion
whether or not it be one of Worth's latest designs,
showing what apt scholars they have become."
It is in the claims of society upon our girls,"
writes another, who knows them well, that their
strength is most severely taxed, and their charac-


523






A TALK WITH GIRLS AND THEIR MOTHERS.


ters endangered. To meet creditably the demands
of this master, our girls must attend day-school,
dancing-school, take music lessons, go to parties,
concerts, the theater, sociables; be active members
of cooking-clubs, archery-clubs, reading-clubs;
ride, skate, walk, and go to the health-lift. To
do this and to dress with appropriate anxiety for
each one of the occasions, a young girl runs an
appalling gauntlet of foes to the healthy develop-
ment of her soul and body."
I am sure that the early contact of our girls
with the vanities and the insincerities and the
excitements ot social life is doing a great injury to
many of them. Girls of from twelve to sixteen
years of age, who ought to be in bed every night
at nine o'clock, are out at parties till midnight, and
sometimes later, thus destroying their health and
keeping their young heads filled with thoughts
which are not conducive to healthy mental or
moral growth.
And as for the children's parties to which my cor-
respondents apply words of such severity, I cannot
conceive anything more hurtful than they are in
the way that they are generally managed. If a
little company of children could be brought to-
gether in the afternoon or in the early evening, all
plainly dressed, so that they might romp and play
to their hearts' content, and take no thought for
their raiment-if they could be healthily fed, and
wisely amused, with no resort to kissing-games,
and no suggestions of beaux-that would be inno-
cent enough; but to dress these children in silks
and laces, in kid gloves and kid slippers, with
frizzed hair and jewelry-to parade them up and
down the drawing-rooms for the foolish mothers
who are in attendance to comment on their dresses
in their hearing, saying, O, you dear little thing !
How sweet you look What a beautiful dress How
that color becomes her then to chaff them about
their lovers and sweethearts, and laugh at their
precocious flirtations,-oh, it is pitiful pitiful I
say to you, mothers, that if there are any children
for whom my heart aches it is these innocent, beau-
tiful children who are being sacrificed on the altars
of foolish fashion. The children of the poor,
thinly clad, poorly fed, rudely taught, are not any
more to be pitied than are many of the children of
the rich; their bodies may suffer more, but their
souls are not any more likely to be pampered and
corrupted and destroyed.
From this early entrance into fashionable society
the girls go right on, as I have said, plunging a
little deeper every year into the currents of social
life, until many of them, as my friend has said, are
utterly blase before they are twenty. Society is a
squeezed orange ; they have got all the flavor out
of it, they have nothing serious nor sacred to live


for, and you sometimes hear them wishing they
were dead.
I suppose that many of us who are parents yield,
with many misgivings and protests, to this bad
custom, which drags our children into social life
and its excitements at such an early age. We
give in to it because all the rest do, and because'it
is hard to deny to our children what all their com-
panions are allowed. And sometimes I suspect
you might go into a company of girls and boys
who are keeping late hours, and carrying their
social diversions to an injurious excess, and find
there hot a single child whose parents did not
heartily disapprove of this excess. Yet the thing is
allowed, not so much because the parents lack
authority over their children, as because they lack
the firmness to resist a bad social custom.
I will mention only one more sad mistake
which some, I hope not many, of our girls are
making, and it shall be described for you in the
language of one who has had the amplest oppor-
tunities of knowing whereof she speaks.
The most common defect in the training of
girls is, in my judgment, the ignoring of the com-
mand to honor and obey parents. From the age
of thirteen, girls and parents alike seem to regard
this commandment as a dead letter. The girl of
thirteen regards herself as her own mistress ; she
is already a woman in her own estimation, and has
a right to do as she likes. If she prefers to go to
parties, sociables, and so forth, three or four even-
ings in a week, rather than spend her evenings in
study, she does so. Both she and her parents, how-
ever, expect and demand that she is to be ranked
at graduation as high as the laborious, self-denying,
faithful worker in her class.
Again, in one congregation in this city I know
of four cases well worthy of thoughtful considera-
tion. The four families all are respectable, such peo-
ple as form the majority of your own congregation.
In each of three of these families is only one child.
Each one of these three girls left school when she
chose to do so, went into society when she pleased,
spent as much time on the street as she liked, and
all three, still under twenty, have now become a
by-word and reproach among all who know them.
In the fourth family there were three girls, two
of whom cast off all restraint, while father and
mother were regularly taking part in prayer-meet-
ings. This father and mother excused themselves
by saying they did not know what their girls were
doing, yet the girls lived at home all the time and
their neighbors knew all about their conduct."
This habit of running loose, of constantly seek-
ing the street for amusement, and even of making
chance acquaintances there, is practiced by some
of the girls of our good families, and it is not at.


IMAY,


524






A TALK WITH GIRLS AND THEIR MOTHERS.


all pleasant to see them on the public thorough-
fares, and to witness their hoydenish ways. I know
that they mean no harm by it, but it often results
in harm; the delicate bloom of maiden modesty
is soiled by too much familiarity with the public
streets of a city, and a kind of boldness is acquired
which is not becoming in a woman.
Such are some of the errors which are frequently
committed in the training of our girls, and some
of the dangers to which they are exposed; I am
sure that you will see that none of them are
imaginary, and that all of them are serious. I
know that many of you girls, and mothers, too,
are fully aware of them, and on your guard against
them. If I have succeeded in drawing the more
careful attention of any of you to any of them, I
shall not have written in vain.
I have left myself small space to speak of the
principles and habits requisite to the development
of a noble womanhood. These, however, have
been suggested in what I have said already. In
avoiding the mistakes to which I have referred,
you will be guided to the right principles of con-
duct. Let me speak very briefly of some of the
elements which go to make up a beautiful womanly
character:
The first is industry. '. IIii ,,..- and ability
to work lie, as I have said already, at the basis of
all good character. The moral discipline, the
patience, the steadiness of purpose, the power to
overcome, that are gained in work, and only in
work, are just as necessary to women as to men;
and the girl who is given no chance of learning
these traits is sadly defrauded.
Besides, there are certain strong reasons why
girls ought to be well trained in that particular
kind of work which they are most likely to be
called to perform. All women, however situ-
ated," writes one of my correspondents, "should
have a practical knowledge of manual labor;
should know how to cook, to purchase household
stores, how to avoid waste, how to buy, cut and
sew garments, how to nurse the sick. All these
things should be a part of a thorough education,
and few women can pass through life, no matter
what their means or station, who will not find the
time when such knowledge will help others, even if
they personally may get on very well without it."
So say a great many of them, and it is all'true.
"I would train my daughter," writes one, "to
regard all work, in the broadest meaning, as hon-
orable. Whatever is necessary to be done is
honorable work, for highest and lowest alike."
After industry comes thoroughness. It is not
enough to be busy ; we ought to do well whatever
our hands find to do, else we may be forced to say
what Hugo Grotius said when he came to the end:


" Alas I have spent my life in laboriously doing
nothing." To be thorough in study, to be thor-
ough in all work, ought to be the aim of every girl,
not less than of every boy. Our methods of female
education have encouraged superficiality rather
than thoroughness; we have given our girls smat-
terings of many things, and mastery of few things.
We teach them a little Latin, and a little French,
and a little Italian, and a little German, and a
little Spanish, and a little English-precious little,
too, generally; we give them a few lessons on the
piano (not often too few, however, of these), and
a few lessons on the organ, and a few on the harp,
and a few on the guitar, and a few, perhaps, on
the violin or the banjo; we let them take oil-
painting for a quarter, and water-colors for a
quarter, and crayons for a quarter, and china dec-
oration for a quarter, and so on, and so on; and
the poor things, when they are done with it all,
know a little of everything, and not much of any-
thing. Don't do it, girls; life is short and art
is long; you cannot be mistresses of all the arts.
It is better to confine yourselves to a single branch
and make yourselves proficient in that. It is much
better to say, This one thing I do," than to say,
" These forty things I dabble in."
After thoroughness, independence. A habit
of relying on your own judgment, a habit of
thinking for yourself, and caring for yourself, not
selfishly, but in a true womanly fashion-a habit
of taking responsibility and bearing it bravely is
one of the habits that women as well as men need
to cultivate. Your parents ought to give you some
chance to form this habit; it is a great mistake to
shield a girl from all care, and then, by and by,
when the helpers on whom she has leaned fall by
her side, to leave her with judgment untrained and
powers undisciplined, to carry the burdens of life.
Respect for character, for manhood and woman-
hood, more than for money or rank, or even
genius, is another of the first lessons that every
girl ought to learn. Virtue, truth, fidelity, these
are the shining things that every true woman
honors, and she who values above these a coat-of-
arms or a bank account, degrades herself. There
is a silly snobbery among some of our girls that is
the reverse of lovely. I see them now and then
spurning association with worthy young men and
women who are poor, and hear them talking in a
large way about blue blood, when all the blue
blood that is in their veins flowed into them from
the veins of tanners or wood-choppers. Shame
upon the girl who cannot recognize and honor
in others the same qualities that lifted her father
or her grandfather to wealth and station !
I might speak of many other elements of char-
acter indispensable to the truest womanhood, such


525






FAIRY PHOTOGRAPHS.


as truthfulness, and conscientiousness, and purity,
and modesty, and fidelity, but I will only name
one more which sums up much of what my friends
have written, and that is :
Consecration. It is a great word. It means
many things. It means, to begin with, that God
has some purpose concerning you, some good
work for each of you to do. It means that He has
given you the power to serve in some way, and
that He wishes you to devote that power which
He has given you to that service for which He
created you. What kind of work He has for you
to do I cannot tell; but I know that He has called
every one of you with a high calling, to some
ennobling work. Not to be butterflies, not to be
drones, not to be sponges, has He called any of
you; but to be helpers, and ministers, and friends of
all good; to wait with ready hands and loving hearts
for the service that you can do for Him. Most of
you will be called, by and by, to the dignity of wife-
hood and motherhood; there is no greater dignity
than that and no nobler work.
One of the ladies asked me to describe the
successful woman. There is more than one type,
I answer, but among them all is none more illus-
trious than that of the wife and mother; the
woman who builds and rules a beautiful and happy
home; who holds the honor of her husband and
the reverence of her children; who leads those
whom God has given her up to vigorous and vir-
tuous manhood and womanhood, imparting to
them by daily communion with them her own
wisdom and nobleness, and sending them forth
to do good and brave service in the.world. The


wonian who does such work as this, I say, is a
successful woman; and there is no grander work
than this within the measure of a man or even
of an angel.
* But marriage is not for all of you, and should
not be for any of you the chief end. I try to
teach my daughter," writes one, "that while
happy wifehood is the glory and blessing of every
true-hearted woman's life, and maternity the crown
of this-more to be desired than queendom, she
should hold herself too pure and dear a thing to
marry for home, or position, or because it is ex-
pected of her." Many women are living happily
and nobly out of wedlock, and no one is fit for it
who is not fit to live without it.
To what kind of service our Lord has called you,
then, I cannot tell; but I know that for you as for
Him, the joy of life must be, not in being minis-
tered unto, but in ministering. God help you to
understand it, girls, before it is too late. There is
so much good in living, if one knows how to live;
there is such delight in serving when one has
learned to serve, that I do not like to see any of
you going on aimlessly and selfishly, and laying up
in store for yourselves a future of disquietude and
gloom. There is a better and brighter way than
this, a way that has never been pointed out more
clearly than in the simple words of our good friend,
Mr. Hale: "'To look up and not down; to look
forward and not back; to look out and not in;
and to lend a hand." Set your feet in that path,
and follow it patiently, and you will find it the
path that shineth more and more unto the
perfect day."


FAIRY PHOTOGRAPHS.

BY H. H. BALLARD.


THE sun was shining happily one morning. So
was Tommy's face.
I 'm goin' strawberryin'," said he.
So 'm I," said his small sister Polly.
No you aint, neither," said Tommy. "Sisters
are always taggin' on to everybody."
So he went off alone.
He knew where the large red berries grew-
"thicker 'n hops"--and he could pick a whole
pailful and never eat a single one." He had
to cross a meadow on his way to the hill where
he knew a "spot that nobody else could find."
In this meadow lived a black and white bobo-


link. Bobolinks are great chatterboxes, as every
one knows; and this particular bobolink, as soon as
he caught sight of Tommy, bubbled up from the
grass, and tumbled out of himself the queerest
jargon in the world.
"Bobolink, bobolink, what do you think?
Where 's your sister, Tommy ? Tell me quick-
er 'n a wink, wink, wink !"
This made Tommy's face very red. He picked
up a stone and threw it at the bird. It struck the
bird's head and stopped all the beautiful music.
I wonder what makes everything so cross and
ugly this morning thought Tommy.


526






FAIRY PHOTOGRAPHS.


Just then, a great yellow butterfly fluttered past
his face.
"Hi!" says Tommy. 'i fixyou!"


N


ground like a chipmunk and then dart down a
hole in the ground, before he could say Jack
Robinson "!


There stood the rabbit, too-
off-and it had one eye shut.


So he struck it with his big straw hat, and, pinch-
ing its delicate wings in his rough fingers, he stuck
a pin through it and fastened it on his hat-band.
Nothing else happened until he had come to
where the strawberries lay dreaming under the
cool green leaves.
He soon had his pail filled, and was about to
start for home, when he spied a little brown rabbit
sitting on its hind legs and looking at him with
two funny little eyes.









-











Hi! said Tommy. I '11 fix you "
So he picked up a stick and struck at the rabbit
with all his might; but what was his surprise to
see the stick slip from his hand, run along the


-only a little farther


Tommy wondered whether he had put the eye
out when he struck, or whether the rabbit was
winking at him.
We 'll see," said Tommy.


I Ii




- ii


t


/


With that, he started in pursuit of the rabbit,
which, however, did not turn around and bound
away as rabbits generally do ; but, still facing the
boy, it began to hop backward so rapidly that
Tommy hardly could keep it in sight.
The pail of berries was thrown aside in the
eagerness of the race, and the golden curls blew
all around Tommy's glowing cheeks as he ran on


.88o.]


527


\Is








528 FAIRY PHOTOGRAPHS. [MAY,


and on. Pretty soon it began to grow dark, and
then the little boy noticed for the first time that he
was in the midst of a lonely forest.
Once he thought he saw a. face with tears on it
looking at him out of the branches of a great oak-
tree; but how could his sister be away out there
and up in a tree ?
It 's only a shadder," said Tom; but he was
growing a trifle uneasy. So he whistled.
No sooner had the first clear notes rung out in
the woods, than they were caught up and echoed
from a thousand points-only instead of the tune
which he meant to whistle, he heard all around
him:
"Bobolink, bobolink! What do you think?
This boy killed a butterfly! Spink, spank,
spink!"
Bobolinks don't live in woods," said Tommy;
" That 's nuthin but a chipmunk-you can't fool
me !"
But his legs began to grow quite shaky all at
once, and somehow or other his whistle died away.
By this time it was very dark indeed.
Now is a good time to have your photograph
taken, my boy," said a shrill voice close to poor
Tommy's ear. He started, but seeing only the little
rabbit, which he had been chasing so long, he
plucked up courage enough to say :
"H'm rabbits can't take photographs No-
body can take 'em when it's. all darker 'n Egypt,
any how," he added, emphatically.
We prefer the dark for taking bad boys' pict-
ures," said the rabbit, who, to Tommy's terror, was
growing bigger and bigger. "Just you sit down
on this stump," he continued in a rougher voice,
"and I '11 fix you."
Tommy felt he must obey. Then the rabbit,
who was by this time as big as a bear, brought a
stout hickory sapling and stuck it up in the ground
behind Tommy, for a head-rest.
It was n't very comfortable, though, for the
rabbit twisted a branch around the boy's head so
tight that it made him as fast as the poor butterfly
on his hat.
Then the rabbit went off a little way, and
pointed the end of a hollow log at the boy, put-
ting his own head behind it and peering through
at him, just as real photographers do.
"Look a little more pleasant," said the rabbit;
but it was all Tommy could do to keep the tears
from flowing.
Don't you wink," said the rabbit.


But there was no use in his saying this, for
Tommy could no more wink than he could get off
from that stump and run home-which is saying
a great deal.
One done," said the rabbit; "but we must
try again, this is very poor indeed."
Poor Tommy shivered and trembled all over,
for, every time the rabbit looked at him now, he
felt as cold as ice.
After four pictures had been taken, the rabbit
untwisted the branch from his head, pushed him
off the stump, gave him the photographs wrapped
up in a big leaf, and bade him run home and give
them to his mother, without daring to so much as
look behind him.
If you do," said the rabbit, we '11 fix you."
I will remember," said Tommy, only too glad
to get out of that dreadful place.
Then the woods were gone, and the rabbit, and
the bobolink songs, and right before him he saw
his own beautiful home and his mother looking out
to see if her boy were coming.
Tommy felt almost like running off to hide, but
he did n't dare disobey the rabbit. So he went
slowly up to his mother and gave her his pictures.
When she opened them, she looked very sad.
The first one showed Tommy just as he had
looked when he spoke so crossly to his little sister
that morning.
His eyes were all puckered and his mouth drawn
down in anger.
The second was taken just as he was throwing a
stone at the pretty bobolink, and in one corner
was a picture of the little bird with its head hang-
ing all on one side-dead.
Then came a sorry-looking photograph of the
pinned butterfly, and last of all Tommy striking
at the little rabbit.
All of them were perfectly black-like the sil-
houettes of your grandfather in mamma's room, or
somebody's -i i.. -.i,1,.. in some other room.
"Please, mamma, burn those horrid pictures up,"
said Tommy, "and I '11 never, never, never be so
mean again 's long 's I live and breathe."
His mother told him that although she could
easily burn those pictures, yet that every time he
said such cross words and did such cruel things, a
picture of them was made on his own heart-inside
of him-which could n't be gotten rid of so easily.
Guess I '11 be pretty careful how I sit for such
photographs," said Tommy.
And he was.


528


FAIRY PHOTOGRAPHS.


[MAY,






THE MAJOR'S BIG-TALK STORIES.


TWO MORE OF THE MAJOR'S BIG-TALK STORIES.

BY F. BLAKE CROFTON.


THE TWO-LEGGED STEED. [SEE PAGE 532.]


No. II.-AN UNINVITED BALLOONIST.

IT once struck me that ballooning would be the
pleasantest way of traveling in my business, lifting
me above the sands, beasts and barbarians of the
desert. So I had a big balloon constructed, with a
patent rudder, guaranteed to steer against any
ordinary wind. One day, when the breeze blew
inland, I embarked, thinking my return voyage
would be plain sailing, owing to the patent rudder
and to the figuring of a man of science, who
proved quite clearly that an upper current of air
set steadily from the desert to the western ocean.
But either the upper current of air or the patent
rudder went all wrong, and I was landed at Mo-
rocco, from which city I made my way home by
sea, with the loss of four months' time, mny whole
cargo of feathers, and every cent I had taken out
with me.
For the future, I confined my ballooning to short
voyages of exploration.
On one of these occasions, my supply of water
had nearly run out, when, noticing a stream, as I
thought, I descended and made fast the balloon.
What I fancied was a brook turned out, however,
to be a wady-that is, one of the dried-up water-


courses of the Sahara. As I turned back empty-
handed, I saw a prettily spotted animal, which
proved to be a baby-leopard, playing like a kitten
in the wady. I caught the creature and hoisted it
into the car by a rope. Then, as no living thing
was in sight, I was leisurely preparing to launch
my air-ship once more. Two of the three ropes
which secured it to the earth were already cut, and
I was turning to cut the third, when I was horrified
at seeing the mother-leopard creeping toward
me, noiselessly but swiftly, and with a revengeful
gleam in her eyes.
The infuriated beast was now barely forty feet
away, and I had enough presence of mind left to
lose no time in cutting the last rope. The liber-
ated balloon rose majestically in the air-about a
second too late. While I was severing the rope,
the leopard had reduced her distance, and when I
had finished she was poised for a spring. Up she
bounded, the embodiment of cruelty and grace,
her paws outstretched, her tail stiff, her jaws dis-
tended, her eyes flashing. Her fore claws only
just reached the bottom of the rising car; but they
grasped it like grim death, and she soon clambered
into the car, nearly capsizing it in the process.
Then she stood a moment over her sprawling cub


529






THE MAJOR'S BIG-TALK STORIES.


.and gave a roar, whether a roar of greeting to the
cub or of menace to rn I did not even try to
guess. Just at that time, I was going up the ropes
which secured the car to the balloon, in a way
that would have won the prize at any gymnastic
'exhibition.
In a few seconds I was .-1i;,_;, to the netting
of the balloon, and glancing uneasily down at the
bearded pard."
A glance showed me there was no immediate
danger from the leopard. She was quite as
.alarmed as I was. Her first movement, when she
perceived the earth receding beneath her, was to
seize her cub in her teeth and hasten to the edge
of the car, as if about to spring to the ground.
But the height was too great, and, abandoning her
intention, she dropped the cub and whined in
:abject terror.
I had now time to reflect. Even if I wished to
make the balloon descend, in the hope that the
frightened leopard might leap to the ground at
the first opportunity, I had not the means of doing
so from where I was. To go down into the car
while the leopard remained there alive, seemed
like putting my head in a lion's mouth, and I had
no means of killing the beast, for my fire-arms
were also in the car. Meantime, though I had
secured a foothold in the netting, the strain on the
muscles of my hands and arms was great, and I
could not support it forever. At last I drew my
knife, which, in my hurry, I had luckily shoved
into my pocket unclasped, and, climbing around
the base of the balloon, began severing the ropes
which attached the car to it. As the car swung
downward, supported by the last two ropes, the
young leopard fell to earth; but its mother, be-
coming suddenly conscious of what I was doing,
sprang upward and struggled hard to climb the
single rope that remained uncut-for the other,
half severed, had yielded when she sprang. It
was a trying moment, but the knife was sharp and
I managed to divide the rope in time.
Down fell the car, and the leopard after it, still
grasping the rope with her claws. Sometimes the
car was uppermost, sometimes the beast. In spite
of my own perilous position, I could not help watch-
ing this terrific see-saw in the air, until beast and
car, after shrinking to mere specs, were dashed to
pieces on the ground. Fortunately for me, my eyes
were accustomed to dizzy heights.
I had provided against the too rapid ascent of
the balloon, when lightened of so great a weight,
by cutting a small hole in its side. But this proved
insufficient to stop its upward progress. So I
made other small holes with great caution-for
my only chance of a successful descent was to let
ithe gas escape by slow degrees. My task was not


an easy one, for the balloon, cut loose from its bal-
last, now lay over considerably on one side, with
me beneath. The strain on my hands had conse-
quently grown much greater. However, I eased
it somewhat by getting one leg inside the netting,
and soon 1 was glad to perceive, from the gently
upward direction of the loose ropes, that I was
beginning to descend. The motion grew more
and more rapid, and though I managed to reduce


.i7


"I



r


'.. '.!





S/ .
*"* .4 '.. ,
. / ". .: 'd; *

/ ''.,::.. _"- '


THE LEOPARD STRIVES TO REACH THE MAJOR.
its rapidity for a time by cutting off all the swing-,
ing ropes within my reach, I should probably have
been maimed, or killed outright, had I not alighted
on the long, feathery leaves of a date-palm, in the
center of a beautiful cluster of these trees.
After refreshing myself with some dates, and
filling my pockets with more, I struck into the
desert to seek the wreck of the car, and especially
my rifle and revolver, without which I had no
hopes of reaching civilization again. My ruined
balloon did me a last service, as it limped over the
tops of the palms: it enabled me to tell the direc-
tion of the wind, which I could not have discovered


[MAY,


.530


--TT


'


R






THE MAJOR'S BIG-TALK STORIES.


otherwise, for it was nearly a dead calm. By
going directly against the wind, I knew I must
draw near the objects of my search. I found the
shattered car and the leopard by it; but rifle and
pistol were bent and broken beyond any possibility
of use or repair.
But the way I got home is a story in itself.


NO. II.-A TWO-LEGGED) STEED.

SO HERE goes for Story No. III. When I
found my fire-arms smashed, I was dumbfounded
for a minute or so. Then, as the sun was just
setting, I looked over the wreck of the car, and
picked out a thin rope, and the skin in which I
used to carry my water, and which still held about
half a gallon. I built a fire out of the remnants
of the car and its contents, and, stretching my
feet toward it, fell asleep almost instantaneously.
I was too tired to make any plans.
Next morning I was awakened by a sharp pain
on my right cheek, and, opening my eyes, I saw a
vulture perched upon my breast, and preparing to
have a second and more satisfactory peck at my
face, if I should happily prove to be dead or mor-
tally wounded. I jumped up with a shout, which
scared the cowardly bird and a whole flock of his
mates that were feeding on the carcass of the
leopard.
The course of the balloon had been nearly due
east, and, as well as I could guess at its average
speed, I was not much more than a hundred miles
from the coast. So, after breakfasting on the rest
of the dates and a small allowance of water, I took
Horace Greeley's advice to young men, and went
west.
How could you tell which side was the west ?"
you will ask.
Well, the sun, my dears, very kindly got up
that morning at about the usual time and place.
And during the whole of the first day I made for
a distant clump of trees which lay but little out of,
my course.
I reached the clump half broiled and without a
drop of water, having used up most of my supply
in moistening my head to keep off sunstroke.
However, the trees were date-palms and grew over
a brook, as these trees commonly do. So I found
an abundance of food, drink and fuel, and slept as
soundly and safely as the night before.
I started into the desert early next morning
in better spirits, for I was some twenty-five miles
nearer home, and had not, so far, met a beast
of prey, though I had heard one roaring near
my fire.
About noon I observed an animal behind me,


but too far away to recognize. Some minutes later
I looked round again, and saw it in about the same
position. This looked as if it was i.11.. .;,, me. I
felt uncomfortable, and glanced back a third time.
It was a little nearer now, and I perceived, to my
alarm, that its color was tawny. Wishing to know
the worst, I halted. To my surprise, the animal
halted, too. Its motion had been stealthy and
cat-like; but now its pose was bold and command-
ing, as it raised its head and paused to contemplate
me.
If I had any doubts remaining, they were soon
gone, for the beast lifted its head higher, and
proved its identity by roaring as only lions can
roar.
Though much alarmed at this, I had presence
of mind enough not to turn and flee at this,
terrible summons. On the contrary, I looked the
lion steadily in the face for some minutes, and
then calmly resumed my journey west.
As I had hoped, he did not charge, but con-
tinued to follow at the same interval. When I
halted again, he halted, too; when I walked, he
walked after me. He apparently meant to attack
me in the dark, when lions are boldest.
Several times that day I was on the point of end-
ing my fearful suspense by rushing at my pursuer,
and forcing him either to fly, or else to eat me for
his dinner instead of for his supper. But each time
some new hope would spring up in my breast, and
I would trudge on still. Once I remembered An-
drocles, and hoped that the lion might tread upon
a thorn. Another time I thought of the man in a
similar plight with myself, who, happily combin-
ing presence of mind with absence of body, raised
his cloak and hat on a stick, and induced a deluded
lion to spring at it, and fall down a convenient
precipice. Time and again I hoped for trees, and
time and again I asked myself the conundrum,
"Why is a lion like an oyster?" and comforted
myself with the answer, "Because neither can
climb a tree." Yes; if I were only up a tree, I
would fear the lion no more than any oyster of the
same size and weight.
I think I could have climbed anything just then.
-a branchless palm, the North Pole, a genealogi-
cal tree. But I could see :.. rh,_. higher than
myself, except the sun.
At last I came to a slight rise in the boundless
waste. From the summit I saw neither rock nor
tree. Two cassavas were in sight, but they were
only stunted shrubs, a few feet high. The sun was
at the horizon, and the lion had decreased his dis-
tance visibly.
I felt the courage of despair, and was about to
turn and force the wild beast to kill me then or
never, when I saw something rise out of the long


531






THE MAJOR S BIG-TALK STORIES.


shadow cast by the cassavas in the setting sun.
I soon discovered that it was a large ostrich, which
had been frightened by some sight or sound at the
other side of the bushes, for it came straight toward
me, using wings and legs, as ostriches do when
hurried or alarmed.
In a moment, I had formed a plan of escape. I
headed the huge bird, and shouted at it. It fled
in bewilderment back to the cassavas, where, ac-
cording to its silly custom, it thrust its head into
the leaves and halted, in the belief that not to see
involves not to be seen.
It was a double chase; for no sooner did I begin
to run after the ostrich than the lion, echoing my
shout with compound interest, started in pursuit.
To a looker-on, the race would have shown
strange contrasts,-the :.il .,:.i, .. waddling, fright-
ened ostrich; the man running silently for life;
the roaring lion, with successive bounds, hastening
after his prey.
I was a good hand at leap-frog when I was at
school. I had often leaped on to the sixth or
seventh back at the old game of "High Cock-
alorum." But I never had so high "a back"
given me before as that now offered by the uncon-
scious ostrich. Still, I never had so much encour-
agement to distinguish myself at any game before,
for a hungry lion had never been the next player
behind me!
Mustering all my strength, I sprang into the
air, tipping the ostrich's tail with my fingers as I
flew over it. In another moment I was seated
comfortably on the back of the bird, holding tightly
to its neck with both hands. The huge creature,
terrified no less by the roaring of the lion, now
hardly fifty yards behind, than by the mysterious
weight on its back, hastily raised its head from the
cassava bush, and went off at a pace which soon
distanced our pursuer.
We traveled all night, and on the following
afternoon struck the coast, six miles below the
trading-post, which we reached at sun-down.


"But what did the ostrich eat on the way,
Major? you will say.
Chiefly money.
Money? "
Yes; money. I suppose you are aware that
ostriches are fond of eating stones and metals.
Well, I thought a few coins might be a pleasant
change for my ostrich, and I had a quantity of
gold coins in a belt, to provide against accidents,
as my habit was when ballooning. So I threw him
a sovereign, which he swallowed eagerly; then an
eagle, which he seemed to enjoy still more. At
least, he ran to it, and stooped for it with more
haste,-whether because it was a larger coin, or
because it was of American manufacture, I am un-
able to decide.
How did you get him to go in one direction all
the time ?" I hear.
By making a slip noose on my rope and lasso-
ing his neck, keeping the ends of the rope in my
hands to act as reins. I put two knots on the
rope, to prevent the noose from getting too tight
and strangling the bird; yet I managed to make
it mighty ; .....1i..: for him when he tried to
alter his course. While the coins lasted, I had no
trouble at all; for, whenever he wanted to turn, I
just threw one straight ahead, and by the time the
silly bird had reached it he had quite forgotten his
desire to turn.
What a lot it cost to feed that ostrich !" do
you say?
Bless your soul, it did n't cost a cent. If I
never got home, the money was no use to me; if I
did, I knew I could get it back. I hated to shoot
that ostrich; but times were bad, and I could not
afford to wait and find out whether the bird would
lay golden eggs.
The feathers of that ostrich wave to-day from
my aunt's bonnet. I brought them home as wit-
nesses of my adventure. The yellowish tinge in
them is owing to the large quantity of gold swal-
lowed by my two-legged steed.


At


532 .


[MAY,






THE STORY OF LIZBETH AND THE "BABY."


THE FIELD-SPARROW.

BY Lucy LARCOM.


A BUBBLE of music floats
The slope of the hill-side over,-
A little wandering sparrow's notes,-
On the bloom of yarrow and clover.
And the smell of sweet-fern and the bayberry-leaf
On his ripple of song are stealing;
For he is a chartered thief,
The wealth of the fields revealing.

One syllable, clear and soft
As a raindrop's silvery patter,
Or a tinkling fairy-bell, heard aloft,
In the midst of the merry chatter
Of robin and linnet and wren and jay;-
One syllable, oft repeated.
He has but a word to say,
And of that he will not be cheated.


The singer I have not seen;
But the song I arise and follow
The brown hills over, the pastures green,
And into the sunlit hollow.
With the joy of a lowly heart's content
I can feel my glad eyes glisten,
Though he hides in his happy tent,
While I stand outside and listen.

This way would I also sing,
My dear little hill-side neighbor!
A tender carol of peace to bring
To the sunburnt fields of labor,
Is better than making a loud ado.
Trill on, amid clover and yarrow,-
There 's a heart-beat echoing you,
And blessing you, blithe little sparrow!


THE STORY OF LIZBETH AND THE "BABY."

BY GEORGE HOUGHTON.


ONE Monday morning, last June, I drew the
chair up to my office desk, and prepared to begin
my week's work. First, I opened and read the
letters,-one, two, three, four, five, six, seven,-O 1
too many to count; then I cut open all the news-
papers,-there were enough to paper the front of
the building; and at last I came to a strange round
parcel, and wondering what could be in that, I
took off the pink string and wrappings that sur-
rounded it, when out rolled a tin mustard-box, with
four holes punched in the lid. What to make of
this I did n't know. I tried to twist off the cover,
but it would not stir. Then I rapped it gently
with a ruler, when, all of a sudden,-pop off
came the lid, and out sprang a wad of cotton wool,
and a queer little drab and yellow thing, three
or four inches long, that squatted down among the
papers. Four small legs, a big tail, a head with
six horns, and a coat of many colors : that seemed
to be all of it. I waited for it to move, but it kept
still, so very still that I thought it must be dead,
so I gave it a poke with my pen-handle, when
"Ptsch /" away it ran, like a mouse, over papers
and letters, down to the carpet, across the floor,
and into a dark corner behind the safe.


Thus was I introduced to Lizbeth," the horned
lizard, or horned toad, which my friend, the Pro-
fessor, had sent me from Colorado.
I carried her home with me that night, and in a
few days she came to be looked upon as one of the
family. She took possession. of one of the broad
window-seats in the library, where she had a cigar-
box for her house and a hickory twig for furniture.
Here she spent most of her time. In the morning
she lay in the sunshine, or clung to the window-sill to
look out at the ailantus-tree opposite. She showed
only one bad trait,-she would not eat, and for
five weeks she was never known to take any food
or drink. But this did n't trouble her as much as
it did the rest of us. She continued to look plump,
and the Professor tells me that she could have fasted
for six months without starving. One night I put
four beetles in the cigar-box with her, fastening
down the cover; in the morning they were gone,
and from that time she had a good appetite,
and devoted most of her waking hours to appeas-
ing it with such flies, ants, or beetles, as came
within reach of her. I once counted fifty flies that
went into her mouth within as many minutes.
And she always was ready for contributions of in-


533






THE STORY OF LIZBETH AND THE "BABY."


THE FIELD-SPARROW.

BY Lucy LARCOM.


A BUBBLE of music floats
The slope of the hill-side over,-
A little wandering sparrow's notes,-
On the bloom of yarrow and clover.
And the smell of sweet-fern and the bayberry-leaf
On his ripple of song are stealing;
For he is a chartered thief,
The wealth of the fields revealing.

One syllable, clear and soft
As a raindrop's silvery patter,
Or a tinkling fairy-bell, heard aloft,
In the midst of the merry chatter
Of robin and linnet and wren and jay;-
One syllable, oft repeated.
He has but a word to say,
And of that he will not be cheated.


The singer I have not seen;
But the song I arise and follow
The brown hills over, the pastures green,
And into the sunlit hollow.
With the joy of a lowly heart's content
I can feel my glad eyes glisten,
Though he hides in his happy tent,
While I stand outside and listen.

This way would I also sing,
My dear little hill-side neighbor!
A tender carol of peace to bring
To the sunburnt fields of labor,
Is better than making a loud ado.
Trill on, amid clover and yarrow,-
There 's a heart-beat echoing you,
And blessing you, blithe little sparrow!


THE STORY OF LIZBETH AND THE "BABY."

BY GEORGE HOUGHTON.


ONE Monday morning, last June, I drew the
chair up to my office desk, and prepared to begin
my week's work. First, I opened and read the
letters,-one, two, three, four, five, six, seven,-O 1
too many to count; then I cut open all the news-
papers,-there were enough to paper the front of
the building; and at last I came to a strange round
parcel, and wondering what could be in that, I
took off the pink string and wrappings that sur-
rounded it, when out rolled a tin mustard-box, with
four holes punched in the lid. What to make of
this I did n't know. I tried to twist off the cover,
but it would not stir. Then I rapped it gently
with a ruler, when, all of a sudden,-pop off
came the lid, and out sprang a wad of cotton wool,
and a queer little drab and yellow thing, three
or four inches long, that squatted down among the
papers. Four small legs, a big tail, a head with
six horns, and a coat of many colors : that seemed
to be all of it. I waited for it to move, but it kept
still, so very still that I thought it must be dead,
so I gave it a poke with my pen-handle, when
"Ptsch /" away it ran, like a mouse, over papers
and letters, down to the carpet, across the floor,
and into a dark corner behind the safe.


Thus was I introduced to Lizbeth," the horned
lizard, or horned toad, which my friend, the Pro-
fessor, had sent me from Colorado.
I carried her home with me that night, and in a
few days she came to be looked upon as one of the
family. She took possession. of one of the broad
window-seats in the library, where she had a cigar-
box for her house and a hickory twig for furniture.
Here she spent most of her time. In the morning
she lay in the sunshine, or clung to the window-sill to
look out at the ailantus-tree opposite. She showed
only one bad trait,-she would not eat, and for
five weeks she was never known to take any food
or drink. But this did n't trouble her as much as
it did the rest of us. She continued to look plump,
and the Professor tells me that she could have fasted
for six months without starving. One night I put
four beetles in the cigar-box with her, fastening
down the cover; in the morning they were gone,
and from that time she had a good appetite,
and devoted most of her waking hours to appeas-
ing it with such flies, ants, or beetles, as came
within reach of her. I once counted fifty flies that
went into her mouth within as many minutes.
And she always was ready for contributions of in-


533






534 THE STORY OF LIZBI

sects, but they must be alive. If you took a fly by
one wing and held it, buzzing, two or three inches
from her mouth, suddenly out flashed a small
stubby tongue, with a sort of mucilage on the end
of it, and before you knew just what had happened,
the fly was swallowed.
Lizbeth soon learned to recognize the members
of the family, and would often follow us from room
to room. She showed intelligence in many ways;
we taught her several tricks, such as lying on her
back as if dead, and sitting on her haunches with
back against an inkstand, and demurely holding a
tooth-pick in one of her small hands, and when
hungry for a meal, she would come to us with open
mouth, as a sign of readiness. She was always
pleased to have her neck scratched, or to be held
in one's hand, when she would snuggle down into
the warm palm and go to sleep.
One day in September, three months after Liz-
beth's arrival, a very important event happened.
There came another tin mustard-box from the Pro-
fessor, who was then with the Wheeler Exploring
Expedition in California, and in it was a baby com-
panion for Lizbeth,-according to the Professor's
standard of beauty, the prettiest creature alive. It
was three inches long, and had five gold bands
across its back, black shading just before each,
and a beautiful white stomacher.
So now there were two heads that peeped out
from the library window at the ailantus-tree, and
two hungry mouths to fill with flies and beetles.
Baby soon became the favorite. The color of her
coat was prettier, and she had no horns on her
head. You may wonder what Lizbeth's horns were
for. I hardly know, unless as a substitute for a
shovel in digging into the soil, but she used hers
very skillfully to pry open the lid of her cigar-box.
Lizbeth was the livelier of the two. While a lady
caller, one evening, was seated near the center-
table, Lizbeth sprang out of a hat and alighted on
her hand, uttering a shrill "Ptsck /" and giving
her a fright and a hatred of the "beasts" (as she
called them), from which she never fully recov-
ered. A Danish gentleman, who visits us some-
times, nearly fainted when he first saw her
approaching, and ever afterward, when he called,
he used to push his head through the half-opened
door, asking Where are dose reptiles?" and
when told, he seated himself at the farthest corner
of the room, and on the very edge of his chair,
ready at the first appearance of Lizbeth or Baby
to escape through the door.
It may be you would not have liked Lizbeth and
the Baby at first sight. You might have thought
them too much like toads. But if you could have
seen the two as they climbed over my mother's
sewing, while she sat at work, scrambling in and


iTII AND THE "BABY."


out of her pockets, stopping now and then to wink
or scratch their heads with the hind leg, or if you
could have watched them follow her from room to
room, scampering like mice and then falling asleep
in a square of sunlight at her feet, I feel sure you
would soon have been willing to hold their soft
little bodies in your hand, that you might examine
their many-colored coats, which were very pretty,
looking like bits of Persian carpet surrounded by
fringe.
There is one queer fact about the horned lizards'
Scouts, they
change color
to match the



~I -P .- I ,- .e


SC i-"



I I l
,,,I llle









*I: "' I. y ,S,
..l 1, I I r,g














S ,-'. .L .. .' -





place in accordance with similar shades of the

















soil. I have seen one that was pure white all
over-an albino, perhaps. Why do you suppose
soil. I have seen one that was pure white all
over-al albino, perhaps. Why do yel suppose
Mother Nature gave them this singular power?
I think there were two reasons. In the first






THE STORY OF LIZBETH AND THE "BABY."


place, they have no means of defense; they can-
not bite nor sting nor scratch, but they crouch closely
upon the soil, and lie so quietly, that, if of the
same color as the ground, it is next to impossible
to catch sight of one until it stirs. When dis-
covered, they will generally act as if dead, even
though roughly handled. Dr. Coues says that
they show special fear of,dogs. On the approach
of a dog, he says, they will raise themselves to the
full length of their legs, puff out the body, open
the mouth, and hiss violently. There is, no doubt,
some special reason for this aversion. It may be
that the coyote, the dog of the plains, includes
horned lizards in his varied bill of fare, and that
from this fact they instinctively recognize an enemy
in all dogs.
In the second place, the gift of color mimicry
helps the horned lizards to obtain food. Their
legs are too short to enable them, like their
cousins, the true lizards, to run down their prey,
and knowing this, they adopt a different method.
When an unlucky fly alights a few inches from
what appears a mere bunch of earth, our little
friend, with body compressed and movements so
slow and regular as to be unnoticed, creeps close
to the unsuspecting insect, and with a flash of the
tongue secures the welcome morsel. Beetles it
catches more easily, and when it is at home in the
dry, sandy wastes west of the Great Plains, and in
Texas, these form its chief food. The agreeable
odor, like musk, which it emits when warm, is
also a noteworthy fact, and this may have an influ-
ence in attracting insects. Aided by this and by
sugar sprinkled around them, Lizbeth and Baby
found no lack of prey (luring the warm weather.
Early in October, however, the weather changed,
and there began to be a suggestion of snow in the


air. They felt the cold keenly, and when the
sun left the window, they would creep under the-
curtain tassel and lie there dormant all the after-
noon. Then we brought them a larger box, filled
with loam and vegetable mold, and as the weather
grew colder, they generally buried themselves,
after breakfast, in the soft soil, leaving only their
noses exposed, and slept there until breakfast-time
next morning, when, if not too cold, they crept
out to beg for a bug or a fly. And I was so afraid
that before spring came their coats would change
to the color of dirt, that I dug them up every little
while to see whether they had changed already.
And they had. Lizbeth's beautiful white stomacher
became brown, and those gold spots on Baby's.
shoulders were getting to be very dull.
One bleak day in January, I carried them both,
in my coat-pockets, to the studio of Mr. Church,
the artist. I wanted him to draw their portraits.
He made some pictures of them, but unfortunately
Lizbeth took cold, and became quite ill. For two
days she languished. She took no interest in any-
thing. On the second day I thought I might
divert her by letting her do some of her tricks-
with a tooth-pick. She took the tooth-pick in her
little hands, and breathed her last.
Troubles never come singly. On the next
morning but one, I found Baby's box on the floor
of the library ; the dirt was scattered over the car-
pet, and, on her back, under the center-table, lay
poor Baby The kitten had been playing with
her, had tumbled her about the room, had rolled
on her, and pawed her, and killed her !
Alas Though the spring shall come, with
many beetles and bugs in its train, it will bring me-
only sad remembrances of my little friends, the-
horned lizards.


188o.]


535





JACK AND JILL.


JACK AND JILL.*

BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.


CHAPTER XI.
"DOWN BRAKES."
THE greatest people have their weak points,
and the best-behaved boys now and then yield to
temptation and get into trouble, as everybody
knows. Frank was considered a remarkably well-
bred and proper lad, and rather prided himself on
his good reputation, for he never got into scrapes
like the other fellows. Well, hardly ever, for we
must confess that at rare intervals his besetting sin
overcame his prudence, and he proved himself an
erring, human boy. Steam-engines had been his
idols for years, and they alone could lure him from
the path of virtue. Once, in trying to investigate
the mechanism of a toy specimen, which had its
little boiler and ran about whistling and puffing in
the most delightful way, he nearly set the house
afire by the sparks that dropped on the straw
carpet. Another time, in trying experiments with
the kitchen tea-kettle, he blew himself up, and
the scars of that explosion he still carried on his
hands.
He was long past such childish amusements now,
but his favorite haunt was the engine-house of the
new railroad, where he observed the habits of his
pets with never-failing interest, and cultivated the
good-will of stokers and brakemen till they allowed
him many liberties, and were rather flattered by
the admiration expressed for their iron horses by a
young gentleman who liked them better even than
his Greek and Latin.
There was not much business doing on this road
as yet, and the two cars of the passenger-trains
were often nearly empty, though full freight-trains
rolled from the factory to the main road, of which
this was only a branch. So things went on in a
leisurely manner, which gave Frank many oppor-
tunities of pursuing his favorite pastime. He soon
knew all about No. II, his pet engine, and had
several rides on it with Bill, the engineer, so that
he felt at home there, and privately resolved that
when he was a rich man he would have a road of
his own, and run trains as often as he liked.
Gus took less interest than his friend in the study
of steam, but usually accompanied him when he
went over after school to disport himself in the
engine-house, interview the stoker, or see if there
was anything new in the way of brakes.
One afternoon they found No. II on the side-


track, puffing away as if enjoying a quiet smoke
before starting. No cars were attached, and no
driver was to be seen, for Bill was off with the
other men behind the station-house, helping the
expressman, whose horse had backed down a bank
and upset the wagon.
Good chance for a look at the old lady," said
Frank, speaking of the engine as Bill did, and
jumping aboard with great satisfaction, followed
by Gus.
I 'd give ten dollars if I could run her up to
the bend and back," he added, fondly touching
the bright brass knobs and glancing at the fire
with a critical eye.
You could n't do it alone," answered Gus, sit-
ting down on the grimy little perch, willing to
indulge his mate's amiable weakness.
"Give me leave to try? Steam is up, and I
could do it as easy as not," and Frank put his hand
on the throttle-valve, as if daring Gus to give the
word.
Fire up and make her hum! laughed Gus,
quoting Bill's frequent order to his mate, but with
no idea of being obeyed.
"All right; I '11 just roll her up to the switch
and back again. I 've often done it with Bill,"
and Frank cautiously opened the throttle-valve,
threw back the lever, and the great thing moved
with a throb and a puff.
"Steady, old fellow, or you '11 come to grief.
Here, don't open that shouted Gus, for just at
that moment Joe appeared at the switch, looking
ready for mischief.
"Wish he would; no train for twenty minutes,
and we could run up to the bend as well as not,"
said Frank, getting excited with the sense of power,
as the monster obeyed his hand so entirely that it
was impossible to resist prolonging the delight.
"By George, he has! Stop her! Back her!
Hold on, Frank !" cried Gus, as Joe, only catching
the words Open that! obeyed, without the least
idea that they would dare to leave the siding.
But they did, for Frank rather lost his head for
a minute, and out upon the main track rolled No.
S1 as quietly as a well-trained horse taking a famil-
iar road.
"Now you 've done it! I '11 give you a good
thrashing when I get back roared Gus, shaking
his fist at Joe, who stood staring, half-pleased, half-
scared, at what he had done.


SCopyright, 1879, by Louisa M. Alcott. All rights reserved.


536


[MAY,





JACK AND JILL.


JACK AND JILL.*

BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.


CHAPTER XI.
"DOWN BRAKES."
THE greatest people have their weak points,
and the best-behaved boys now and then yield to
temptation and get into trouble, as everybody
knows. Frank was considered a remarkably well-
bred and proper lad, and rather prided himself on
his good reputation, for he never got into scrapes
like the other fellows. Well, hardly ever, for we
must confess that at rare intervals his besetting sin
overcame his prudence, and he proved himself an
erring, human boy. Steam-engines had been his
idols for years, and they alone could lure him from
the path of virtue. Once, in trying to investigate
the mechanism of a toy specimen, which had its
little boiler and ran about whistling and puffing in
the most delightful way, he nearly set the house
afire by the sparks that dropped on the straw
carpet. Another time, in trying experiments with
the kitchen tea-kettle, he blew himself up, and
the scars of that explosion he still carried on his
hands.
He was long past such childish amusements now,
but his favorite haunt was the engine-house of the
new railroad, where he observed the habits of his
pets with never-failing interest, and cultivated the
good-will of stokers and brakemen till they allowed
him many liberties, and were rather flattered by
the admiration expressed for their iron horses by a
young gentleman who liked them better even than
his Greek and Latin.
There was not much business doing on this road
as yet, and the two cars of the passenger-trains
were often nearly empty, though full freight-trains
rolled from the factory to the main road, of which
this was only a branch. So things went on in a
leisurely manner, which gave Frank many oppor-
tunities of pursuing his favorite pastime. He soon
knew all about No. II, his pet engine, and had
several rides on it with Bill, the engineer, so that
he felt at home there, and privately resolved that
when he was a rich man he would have a road of
his own, and run trains as often as he liked.
Gus took less interest than his friend in the study
of steam, but usually accompanied him when he
went over after school to disport himself in the
engine-house, interview the stoker, or see if there
was anything new in the way of brakes.
One afternoon they found No. II on the side-


track, puffing away as if enjoying a quiet smoke
before starting. No cars were attached, and no
driver was to be seen, for Bill was off with the
other men behind the station-house, helping the
expressman, whose horse had backed down a bank
and upset the wagon.
Good chance for a look at the old lady," said
Frank, speaking of the engine as Bill did, and
jumping aboard with great satisfaction, followed
by Gus.
I 'd give ten dollars if I could run her up to
the bend and back," he added, fondly touching
the bright brass knobs and glancing at the fire
with a critical eye.
You could n't do it alone," answered Gus, sit-
ting down on the grimy little perch, willing to
indulge his mate's amiable weakness.
"Give me leave to try? Steam is up, and I
could do it as easy as not," and Frank put his hand
on the throttle-valve, as if daring Gus to give the
word.
Fire up and make her hum! laughed Gus,
quoting Bill's frequent order to his mate, but with
no idea of being obeyed.
"All right; I '11 just roll her up to the switch
and back again. I 've often done it with Bill,"
and Frank cautiously opened the throttle-valve,
threw back the lever, and the great thing moved
with a throb and a puff.
"Steady, old fellow, or you '11 come to grief.
Here, don't open that shouted Gus, for just at
that moment Joe appeared at the switch, looking
ready for mischief.
"Wish he would; no train for twenty minutes,
and we could run up to the bend as well as not,"
said Frank, getting excited with the sense of power,
as the monster obeyed his hand so entirely that it
was impossible to resist prolonging the delight.
"By George, he has! Stop her! Back her!
Hold on, Frank !" cried Gus, as Joe, only catching
the words Open that! obeyed, without the least
idea that they would dare to leave the siding.
But they did, for Frank rather lost his head for
a minute, and out upon the main track rolled No.
S1 as quietly as a well-trained horse taking a famil-
iar road.
"Now you 've done it! I '11 give you a good
thrashing when I get back roared Gus, shaking
his fist at Joe, who stood staring, half-pleased, half-
scared, at what he had done.


SCopyright, 1879, by Louisa M. Alcott. All rights reserved.


536


[MAY,







s88o.) JACK AND JILL.


"Are you really going to try it ? asked Gus,
as they glided on with increasing speed, and he,
too, felt the charm of such a novel adventure, ii... .1.
the consequences bid fair to be serious.
"Yes, I am," answered Frank, with the grim
look he always wore when his strong will got the
upper hand. Bill will give it to us, any way, so
we may as well have our fun out. If you are
afraid, I '11 slow down and you can jump off," and
his brown eyes sparkled with the double delight of
getting his heart's desire and astonishing his friend
at the same time by his skill and coolness.


Let them yell. I started to go to the curve,
and I '11 do it if it costs me a hundred dollars. No
danger; there 's no train under twenty minutes, I
tell you," and Frank pulled out his watch. But
the sun was in his eyes, and he did not see clearly,
or he would have discovered that it was later than
he thought.
On they went, and were just rounding the bend
when a shrill whistle in front startled both boys,
and drove the color out of their cheeks.
It 's the factory train i cried Gus, in a husky
tone, as he sprang to his feet.


"DOWN BRAKES !


Go ahead. I 'll jump when you do;" and Gus
calmly sat down again, bound in honor to stand by
his mate till the smash came, though rather dis-
mayed at the audacity of the prank.
"Don't you call this just splendid?" exclaimed
Frank, as they rolled along over the crossing, past
the bridge, toward the curve, a mile from the sta-
tion.
Not bad. They are yelling like mad after us.
Better go back, if you can," said Gus, who was
anxiously peering out, and, in spite of his efforts
to seem at ease, not enjoying the trip a particle.
VOL. VII.-36.


"No; it 's the five-forty on the other road,"
answered Frank, with a queer thrill all through
him at the thought of what might happen if it was
not. Both looked straight ahead as the last tree
glided by, and the long track lay before them, with
the freight train slowly coning down. For an in-
stant, the boys stood as if paralyzed.
Jump! said Gus, looking at the steep bank
on one side and the river on the other, undecided
which to try.
Sit still! commanded Frank, collecting his
wits, as he gave a warning whistle to retard the


537






JACK AND JILL.


on-coming train, while he reversed the engine and
went back faster than he came.
A crowd of angry men was waiting for them,
and Bill stood at the open switch in a towering
passion as No. 11 returned to her place unharmed,
but bearing two pale and frightened boys, who
stepped slowly and silently down, without a word
to say for themselves, while the freight train rum-
bled by on the main track.
Frank and Gus never had a very clear idea as to
what occurred during the next few minutes, but
vaguely remembered being well shaken, sworn at,
questioned, threatened with direful penalties, and
finally ordered off the premises forever by the
wrathful depot-master. Joe was nowhere to be
seen, and as the two culprits walked away, trying
to go steadily, while their heads spun round, and
all the strength seemed to have departed from their
legs, Frank said, in an exhausted tone:
Come down to the boat-house and rest a
minute."
Both were glad to get out of sight, and dropped
upon the steps red, rumpled, and breathless, after
the late exciting scene. Gus generously forebore
to speak, though he felt that he was the least to
blame; and Frank, after eating a bit of snow to
moisten his dry lips, said, handsomely:
Now, don't you worry, old man. I '11 pay the
damages, for it was my fault. Joe will dodge, but
I wont; so make your mind easy."
"We sha' n't hear the last of this in a hurry,"
responded Gus, relieved, yet anxious, as he thought
of the reprimand his father would give him.
I hope mother wont hear of it till I tell her'
quietly myself. She will be so frightened, and
think I 'm surely smashed up, if she is told in a
hurry; and Frank gave a shiver, as all the danger
he had run came over him suddenly.
I thought we were done for when we saw that
train. Guess we should have been if you had not
had your wits about you. I always said you were
a cool one," and Gus patted Frank's back with a
look of great admiration, for, now that it was all
over, he considered it a very remarkable perform-
ance.
"Which do you suppose it will be, fine or
imprisonment ?" asked Frank, after sitting in a
despondent attitude for a moment.
Should n't wonder if it was both. Running
off with an engine is no joke, you know."
"What did possess me to be such a fool?"
groaned Frank, repenting, all too late, of yielding
to the temptation which assailed him.
Bear up, old fellow, I 'll stand by you; and if
the worst comes, I '11 call as often as the rules of
the prison allow," said Gus, consolingly, as he gave
his afflicted friend an arm, and they walked away,


both feeling that they were marked men from that
day forth.
Meantime, Joe, as soon as he recovered from the
shock of seeing the boys actually go off, ran away,
as fast as his legs could carry him, to prepare Mrs.
Minot for the loss of her son; for the idea of their
coming safely back never occurred to him, his
knowledge of engines being limited. A loud ring
at the bell brought Mrs. Pecq, who was guarding
the house, while Mrs. Minot entertained a parlor
full of company..
Frank's run off with No. I and he 'II be killed
sure. Thought I 'd run up and tell you," stam-
mered Joe, all out of breath and looking wild.
He got no further, for Mrs. Pecq clapped one
hand over his mouth, caught him by the collar
with the other, and hustled him into.the ante-room
before any one else could hear the bad news.
Tell me all about it, and don't shout. What's
come to the boy?" she demanded, in a tone that
reduced Joe to a whisper at once.
Go right back and see what has happened to
him, then come and tell me quietly. I 'il wait for
you here. I would n't have his mother startled for
the world," said the good soul when she knew all.
Oh, I dar's n't I opened the switch as they
told me to, and Bill will half kill me when he
knows it !" cried Joe, in a panic, as the awful con-
sequences of his deed rose before him, showing
both boys mortally injured and several trains
wrecked.
Then take yourself off home and hold your
tongue. I '11 watch the door, for I wont have any
more ridiculous boys tearing in to disturb my
lady."
Mrs. Pecq often called this good neighbor my
lady" when speaking of her, for Mrs. Minot was a
true gentlewoman, and much pleasanter to live with
than the titled mistress had been.
Joe scudded away as if the constable was after
him, and presently Frank was seen slowly approach-
ing with an unusually sober face and a pair of very
dirty hands.
Thank heaven, he 's safe and, softly open-
ing the door, Mrs. Pecq actually hustled the young
master into the ante-room as unceremoniously as
she had hustled Joe.
I beg pardon, but the parlor is full of com-
pany, and that fool of a Joe came roaring in with
a cock-and-bull story that gave me quite a turn.
What is it, Mr. Frank ? she asked eagerly, seeing
that something was amiss.
He told her in a few words, and she was much
relieved to find that no harm had been done.
"Ah, the danger is to come," said Frank,
darkly, as he went away to wash his hands and
prepare to relate his misdeeds.


538


[MAY,






JACK AND JILL.


It was a very bad quarter of an hour for the poor
fellow, who so seldom had any grave faults to con-
fess; but he did it manfully, and his mother was
so grateful for the safety of her boy that she found
it difficult to be severe enough, and contented her-
self with forbidding any more visits to the too
charming No. 1I.
"What do you suppose will be done to me?"
asked Frank, on whom the idea of imprisonment
had made a deep impression.
I don't know, dear, but I shall go over to see
Mr. Burton right after tea. He will tell us what
to do and what to expect. Gus must not suffer for
your fault."
He '11 come off clear enough, but Joe must
take his share, for if he had n't opened that con-
founded switch, no harm would have been done.
But when I saw the way clear, I actually could n't
resist going ahead," said Frank, getting excited
again at the memory of that blissful moment when
he started the engine.
Here Jack came hurrying in, having heard the
news, and refused to believe it from any lips but
Frank's. When he could no longer doubt, he was
so much impressed with the daring of the deed
that he had nothing but admiration for his brother,
till a sudden thought made him clap his hands and
exclaim exultingly:
His runaway beats mine all hollow, and now
he can't crow over me i Wont that be a comfort ?
The good boy has got into a scrape. Hooray "
This was such a droll way of taking it, that they
had to laugh; and Frank took his humiliation so
meekly that Jack soon fell to comforting him,
instead of crowing over him.
Jill thought it a most interesting event; and,
when Frank and his mother went over to consult
Mr. Burton, she and Jack planned out for the dear
culprit a dramatic trial which would have con-
vulsed the soberest of judges. His sentence was
ten years' imprisonment, and such heavy fines that
the family would have been reduced to beggary but
for the sums made by Jill's fancy work and Jack's
success as a champion pedestrian.
They found such comfort and amusement in this
sensational programme that they were rather dis-
appointed when Frank returned, reporting that a
fine would probably be all the penalty exacted, as
no harm had been done, and he and Gus were
such respectable boys. What would happen to
Joe, he could not tell, but he thought a good whip-
ping ought to be added to his share.
Of course, the affair made a stir in the little
world of children ; and when Frank went to school,
feeling that his character for good behavior was
forever damaged, he found himself a lion, and was
in danger of being spoiled by the admiration of


his comrades, who pointed him out with pride as
"the fellow who ran off with a steam-engine."
But an interview with Judge Kemble, a fine of
twenty-five dollars, and lectures from all the grown
people of his acquaintance, prevented him from
regarding his escapade as a feat to boast of. He
discovered, also, how fickle a thing is public favor,
for very soon those who had praised began to tease,
and it took all his courage, patience and pride to
carry him through the next week or two. The
lads were never tired of alluding to No. II, giving
shrill whistles in his ear, asking if his watch was
right, and drawing locomotives on the blackboard
whenever they got a chance.
The girls, too, had sly nods and smiles, hints
and jokes of a milder sort, which made him color
and fume, and once lose his dignity entirely. Molly
Loo, who dearly loved to torment the big boys,
and dared attack even solemn Frank, left one of
Boo's old tin trains on the door-step, directed to
" Conductor Minot," who, I regret to say, could
not refrain from kicking it into the street, and
slamming the door with a bang that shook the
house. Shrieks of laughter from wicked Molly
and her coadjutor, Grif, greeted this explosion of
wrath, which did no good, however, for half an
hour later the same cars, all in a heap, were on the
steps again, with two headless dolls tumbling out
of the cab, and the dilapidated engine labeled
" No. II after the collision."
No one ever saw that ruin again, and for days
Frank was utterly unconscious of Molly's existence,
as propriety forbade his having it out with her as
i1e had with Grif. Then Annette made peace
between them, and the approach of the Twenty-
second gave the wags something else to think of.
But it was long before Frank forgot that costly
prank: for he was a thoughtful boy, who honestly
wanted to be good; so he remembered this epi-
sode humbly, and whenever he felt the approach
of temptation he made the strong will master it,
saying to himself Down brakes thus saving
the precious freight he carried from many of the
accidents which befall us when we try to run our
trains without orders, and so often wreck ourselves
as well as others.

CHAPTER XII.
THE TWENTY-SECOND OF FEBRUARY.
OF course, the young ladies and gentlemen had
a ball on the evening of that day, but the boys and
girls were full of excitement about their Scenes
from the Life of Washington and other brilliant
tableaux," as the programme announced. The
Bird-Room was the theater, being very large, with
four doors conveniently placed. Ralph was in his


539


l880.3






[MAY,


JACK AND JILL.


element, putting up a little stage, drilling boys,
arranging groups, and uniting in himself carpen-
ter, scene-painter, manager and gas man. Mrs.
Minot permitted the house to be turned topsy-
turvy, and Mrs. Pecq flew about, lending a hand
everywhere. Jill was costumer, with help from
Miss Delano, who did not care for balls, and kindly
took charge of the girls. Jack printed tickets,
programmes and placards of the most imposing
sort, and the work went gayly on till all was
ready.
When the evening came, the Bird-Room pre-
sented a fine appearance. One end was curtained
off with red drapery ; and real footlights, with tin
shades, gave a truly theatrical air to the little stage.
Rows of chairs, filled with mammas and little
people, occupied the rest of the space. The hall
and Frank's room were full of amused papas,
uncles, and old gentlemen whose patriotism brought
them out in spite of rheumatism. There was a
great rustling of skirts, fluttering of fans, and much
lively chat, till a bell rang and the orchestra struck
up.
Yes, there really was an orchestra, for Ed de-
clared that the national airs must be played, or the
whole thing would be a failure. So he had exerted
himself to collect all the musical talent he could
find, a horn, a fiddle and a flute, with drum and
fife for the martial scenes. Ed looked more beam-
ing than ever, as he waved his baton and led
off with Yankee' Doodle as a safe beginning, for
every one knew that. It was fun to see little
Johnny Cooper bang away on a big drum, and old
Mr. Munson, who had been a fifer all his days,'
blow till he was as red as a lobster, while every one
kept time to the music which put them all in good
spirits for the opening scene.
Up went the curtain and several trees in tubs
appeared, then a stately gentleman in small
clothes, cocked hat, gray wig, and an imposing
cane, came slowly i11 ij in. It was Gus, who
had been unanimously chosen not only for Wash-
ington but for the father of the hero also, that the
family traits of long legs and a somewhat massive
nose might be preserved.
Ahem My trees are doing finely," observed
Mr. W., senior, strolling along with his hands be-
hind him, casting satisfied glances at the dwarf
orange, oleander, arbutilon and little pine that
represented his orchard.
Suddenly he starts, pauses, frowns, and, after
examining the latter shrub, which displayed several
hacks in its stem and a broken limb with six red-
velvet cherries hanging on it, he gave a thump
with his cane that made the little ones jump, and
cried out:
Can it have been my son ?"


He evidently thought it was, for he called, in
tones of thunder:
"George! George Washington, come hither
this moment !"
Great suspense on the part of the audience, then
a general burst of laughter as Boo trotted in, a
perfect miniature of his honored parent, knee
breeches, cocked hat, shoe buckles and all. He
was so fat that the little tails of his coat stuck out
in the drollest way, his chubby legs could hardly
carry the big buckles, and the rosy face displayed
when he took his hat off, with a dutiful bow, was
so solemn, the real George could not have looked
more anxious when he gave the immortal answer.
Sirrah, did you cut that tree?" demanded the
papa, with another rap of the cane, and such a
frown that poor Boo looked dismayed, till Molly
whispered, Put your hand up, dear." Then he
remembered his part, and, putting one finger in
his mouth, looked down at his square-toed shoes,
the image of a shame-stricken boy.
My son, do not deceive me. If you have done
this deed I shall chastise you, for it is my duty not
to spare the rod, lest I spoil the child. But if you
lie about it you .i ..k the name of Washington
forever."
This appeal seemed to convulse George with
inward agony, for he squirmed most effectively as
he drew from his pocket a toy hatchet, which would
not have cut a straw, then looking straight up into
the awe-inspiring countenance of his parent, he
bravely lisped:
Papa, I tannot tell a lie. I did tut it with my
little hanchet."
Noble boy,-come to my arms I had rather
you spoilt all my cherry trees than tell one lie "
cried the delighted gentleman, catching his son
in an embrace so close that the fat legs kicked
convulsively, and the little coat-tails waved in the
breeze, while cane and hatchet fell with a dramatic
bang.
The curtain descended on this affecting tableau;
but the audience called out both Washingtons, and
they came, hand in hand, bowing with the cocked
hats pressed to their breasts, the elder smiling
blandly, while the younger, still flushed by his
exertions, nodded to his friends, asking, with en-
gaging frankness, Was n't it nice ? "
The next was a marine piece, for a boat was
seen, surrounded by tumultuous waves of blue
cambric, and rowed by a party of stalwart men in
regimentals, who with difficulty kept their seats,
for the boat was only a painted board, and they
sat on boxes or stools behind it. But few marked
the rowers, for in their midst, tall, straight and
steadfast as a mast, stood one figure in a cloak,
with folded arms, high boots, and, under the


540






JACK AND JILL.


turned-up hat, a noble countenance, stern with
indomitable courage. A sword glittered at his
side, and a banner waved over him, but his eye
was fixed on the distant shore, and he was evidently
unconscious of the roaring billows, the blocks of
ice, the discouragement of his men, or the danger
and death that might await him. Napoleon cross-
ing the Alps was not half so sublime, and with one
voice the audience cried, "Washington crossing
the Delaware while the band burst forth with
" See the conquering hero comes!" all out of tune,
but bound to play it or die in the attempt.
It would have been very successful if, all of a
sudden, one of the rowers had not "caught a
crab with disastrous consequences. The oars
were not moving, but a veteran, who looked very
much like Joe, dropped the one he held, and in
trying to turn and pummel the black-eyed warrior
behind him, he tumbled off his seat, upsetting two
other men, and pulling the painted boat upon
them as they lay kicking in the cambric deep.
Shouts of laughter greeted this mishap, but George
Washington never stirred. Grasping the banner,
he stood firm when all else went down in the gen-
eral wreck, and the icy waves engulfed his gallant
crew, leaving him erect amid a chaos of wildly
tossing boots, entangled oars and red-faced victims.
Such god-like dignity could not fail to impress the
frivolous crowd of laughers, and the curtain fell
amid a round of applause for him alone.
Quite exciting, was n't it? Did n't know Gus
had so much presence of mind," said Mr. Burton,
well pleased with his boy.
If we did not know that Washington died in
his bed, December 14, 1799, I should fear that
we 'd seen the last of him in that shipwreck,"
laughed an old gentleman, proud of his memory
for dates.
Much confusion reigned behind the scenes;
Ralph was heard scolding, and Joe set every one
off again by explaining, audibly, that Grif tickled
him, and he could n't stand it. A pretty, old-
fashioned picture of the Daughters of Liberty "
followed, for the girls were determined to do honor
to the brave and patient women who so nobly
bore their part in the struggle, yet are usually for-
gotten when those days are celebrated. The dam-
sels were charming in the big caps, flowered gowns
and high-heeled shoes of their great-grandmothers,
as they sat about a spider-legged table talking over
the tax, and pledging themselves to drink no more
tea till it was taken off. Molly was on her feet
proposing "Liberty forever, and down with all
tyrants," to judge from her flashing eyes as she
held her egg-shell cup aloft, while the others lifted
theirs to drink the toast, and Merry, as hostess, sat
with her hand on an antique teapot, labeled


" Sage," ready to fill again when the patriotic
ladies were ready for a second "dish."
This was much applauded, and the curtain went
up again, for the proud parents enjoyed seeing
their pretty girls in the faded finery of a hundred
years ago. The band played Auld Lang Syne,"
as a gentle hint that our fore-mothers should be
remembered as well as the fore-fathers.
It was evident that something very martial was
to follow, for a great tramping, clashing and flying
about took place behind the scenes while the tea-
party was going on. After some delay, "The
Surrender of Cornwallis" was presented in the
most superb manner, as you can believe when I tell
you that the stage was actually lined with a glitter-
ing array of Washington and his generals, Lafay-
ette, Kosciusko, Rochambeau and the rest, all in
astonishing uniforms, with swords which were
evidently the pride of their lives. Fife and drum
struck up a march, and in came Cornwallis, much
cast down but full of manly resignation, as he
surrendered his sword, and stood aside with averted
eyes while his army marched past, piling their
arms at the hero's feet.
This scene was the delight of the boys, for the
rifles of Company F had been secured, and at least
a dozen soldiers kept filing in and out in British
uniform till Washington's august legs were hidden
by the heaps of arms rattled down before him.
The martial music, the steady tramp, and the
patriotic memories awakened, caused this scene to
be enthusiastically encored, and the boys would
have gone on marching till midnight if Ralph had
not peremptorily ordered down the curtain and
cleared the stage for the next tableau.
This had been artfully slipped in between two
brilliant ones, to show that the Father of his Country
had to pay a high price for his glory. The dark-
ened stage represented what seemed to be a camp
in a snow-storm, and a very forlorn camp, too; for
on "the cold, cold ground (a reckless display of
cotton batting) lay ragged soldiers, sleeping with-
out blankets, their worn-out boots turned up pa-
thetically, and no sign of food or fire to be seen.
A very shabby sentinel, with feet bound in bloody
cloths, and his face as pale as chalk could make it,
gnawed a dry crust as he kept his watch in the
wintry night.
A tent at the back of the stage showed a solitary
figure sitting on a log of wood, poring over the
map spread upon his knee, by the light of one
candle stuck in a bottle. There could be no doubt
who this was, for the buff-and-blue coat, the legs,
the nose, the attitude, all betrayed the great
George laboring to save his country, in spite of
privations, discouragements and dangers which
would have daunted any other man.


541






JACK AND JILL.


"Valley Forge," said some one, and the room
was very still as old and young looked silently at
this little picture of a great and noble struggle in
one of its dark hours. The crust, the wounded
feet, the rags, the snow, the loneliness, the indom-
itable courage and endurance of these men touched
the hearts of all, for the mimic scene grew real for
a moment; and, when a child's voice broke the
silence, asking pitifully, Oh, mamma, was it truly
as dreadful as that?" a general outburst answered,
as if every one wanted to cheer up the brave fel-
lows and bid them fight on, for victory was surely
coming.
In the next scene it did come, and "' Washington
at Trenton was prettily done. An arch of flowers
crossed the stage, with the motto, "The Defender
of the Mothers will be the Preserver of the Daugh-
ters; and, as the hero with his generals advanced
on one side, a troop of girls, in old-fashioned mus-
lin frocks, came to scatter flowers before him, sing-
ing the song of long ago :

"Welcome, mighty chief, once more
Welcome to this grateful shore;
Now no mercenary foe
Aims again the fatal blow,-
Aims at thee the fatal blow.
Virgins fair and matrons grave,
Those thy conquering arm did save,
Build for thee triumphal bowers;
Strew, ye fair, his way with flowers,-
Strew your hero's way with flowers."

And they did, singing with all their hearts as
they flung artificial roses and lilies at the feet of
the great men, who bowed with benign grace.
Jack, who did Lafayette with a limp, covered him-
self with glory by picking up one of the bouquets
and pressing it to his heart with all the ..11.rn
of a Frenchman; and when Washington lifted the
smallest of the maids and kissed her, the audience
cheered. Could n't help it, you know, it was so
pretty and inspiring.
The Washington Family, after the famous pict-
ure, came next, with Annette as the serene and
sensible Martha, in a very becoming cap. The
General was* in uniform, there being no time to
change, but his attitude was quite correct, and the
Custis boy and girl displayed the wide sash and
ruffled collar with historic fidelity. The band
played Home," and every one agreed that it was
Sweet! "
"Now I don't see what more they can have
except the death-bed, and that would be rather out
of place in this gay company," said the old gentle-
man to Mr. Burton, as he mopped his heated face
after pounding so heartily he nearly knocked the
ferule off his cane.
"No; they gave that up, for my boy would n't


wear a night-gown in public. I can't tell secrets,
but I think they have got a very clever little finale
for the first part,-a pretty compliment to one per-
son and a pleasant surprise to all," answered Mr.
Burton, who was in great spirits, being fond of
theatricals and very justly proud of his children,
for the little girls had been among the Trenton
maids, and the mimic General had kissed his own
small sister, Nelly, very tenderly.
A great deal of interest was felt as to what this
surprise was to be, and a general Oh greeted
the Minute Man," standing motionless upon his
pedestal. It was Frank, and Ralph had done his
best to have the figure as perfect as possible, for
the maker of the original had been a good friend
to him; and, while the young sculptor was dancing
gayly at the ball, this copy of his work was doing
him honor among the children. Frank looked it
very well, for his firm-set mouth was full of resolu-
tion, his eyes shone keen and courageous under
the three-cornered hat, and the muscles stood out
upon the bare arm that clutched the old gun.
Even the buttons on the gaiters seemed to flash
defiance, as the sturdy legs took the first step from
the furrow toward the bridge where the young
farmer became a hero when he "fired the shot
heard 'round the world."
That is splendid 'As like to the original as
flesh can be to bronze." How still he stands "
" He 'll fight when the time comes, and die hard,
won't he?" "Hush! You make the statue blush!"
These very audible remarks certainly did, for the
color rose visibly as the modest lad heard himself
praised, though he saw but one face in all the
crowd, his mother's, far back, but full of love and
pride, as she looked up at her young minute man
waiting for the battle which often calls us when
we least expect it, and for which she had done her
best to make him ready.
If there had been any danger of Frank being
puffed up by the success of his statue, it was coun-
teracted by irrepressible Grif, who, just at the
most interesting moment, when all were gazing
silently, gave a whistle, followed by a Choo,
choo, choo! and "All aboard so naturally
that no one could mistake the joke, especially as
another laughing voice added, Now, then, No.
I which brought down the house and the cur-
tain too.
Frank was so angry, it was very difficult to keep
him on his perch for the last scene of all. He
submitted, however, rather than spoil the grand
finale, hoping that its beauty would efface that ill-
timed pleasantry from the public mind. So, when
the agreeable clamor of hands and voices called
for a repetition, the Minute Man reappeared, grim-
mer than before. But not alone, for grouped all


542


[MAY,






JACK AND JILL.


about his pedestal were Washington and his gen-
erals, the matrons and maids, with a background
of troops shouldering arms, Grif and Joe doing
such rash things with their muskets, that more
than one hero received a poke in his august back.
Before the full richness of this picture had been
taken in, Ed gave a rap, and all burst out with
" Hail Columbia," in such an inspiring style that
it was impossible for the audience to refrain from
joining, which they did, all standing and all sing-
ing with a heartiness that made the walls ring.
The fife shrilled, the horn blew sweet and clear,
the fiddle was nearly drowned by the energetic
boom of the drum, and out into the starry night,
through open windows, rolled the song that stirs
the coldest heart with patriotic warmth and tunes
every voice to music.
"' America!' We must have America!' Pipe
up, Ed, this is too good to end without one song
more," cried Mr. Burton, who had been singing
like a trumpet; and, hardly waiting to get their
breath, off they all went again with the national
hymn, singing as they never had sung it before,
for somehow the little scenes they had just acted
or beheld seemed to show how much this dear
America of ours had cost in more than one revo-
lution, how full of courage, energy and virtue it
was in spite of all its faults, and what a privilege,
as well as duty, it was for each to do his part toward
its safety and its honor in the present, as did those
brave men and women in the past.
So the Scenes from the Life of Washington "
were a great success, and, when the songs were
over, people were glad of a brief recess while they
had raptures, and refreshed themselves with
lemonade.
The girls had kept the secret of who the
Princess" was to be, and, when the curtain rose,
a hum of surprise and pleasure greeted the pretty
group. Jill lay asleep in all her splendor, the
bonny Prince" just lifting the veil to wake her
with a kiss, and all about them the court in its nap
of a hundred years. The King" and Queen"
dozing comfortably on the throne; the maids of
honor, like a garland of nodding flowers, about the
couch; the little page, unconscious of the blow
about to fall, and the fool dreaming, with his
mouth wide open.
It was so pretty, people did not tire of.looking,
till Jack's lame leg began to tremble, and he whis-
pered : "Drop her or I shall pitch." Down went
the curtain; but it rose in a moment, and there
was the court after the awakening: the "King"
and "Queen" looking about them with sleepy
dignity, the maids in various attitudes of surprise,
the fool grinning from ear to ear, and the "Prin-
cess holding out her hand to the "Prince," as if


glad to welcome the right lover when he came at
last.
Molly got the laugh this time, for she could not
resist giving poor Boo the cuff which had been
hanging over him so long. She gave it with
unconscious energy, and Boo cried Ow!" so nat-
urally that all the children were delighted and
wanted it repeated. But Boo declined, and the
scenes which followed were found quite as much to
their taste, having been expressly prepared for the
little people.
Mother Goose's Reception was really very funny,
for Ralph was the old lady, and had hired a repre-
sentation of the immortal bird from a real theater
for this occasion. There they stood, the dame in
her pointed hat, red petticoat, cap and cane, with
the noble fowl, a good deal larger than life, beside
her, and Grif inside, enjoying himself immensely
as he flapped the wings, moved the yellow legs,
and waved the long neck about, while unearthly
quacks issued from the bill. That was a great sur-
prise for the children, and they got up in their
seats to gaze their fill, many of them firmly believ-
ing that they actually beheld the blessed old woman
who wrote the nursery songs they loved so well.
Then in came, one after another, the best of the
characters she has made famous, while a voice be-
hind the scenes sang the proper rhyme as each
made their manners to the interesting pair. Mis-
tress -. .. ," and her "pretty maids all in a row,"
passed by to their places in the background;
"King Cole" and his "fiddlers three" made a
goodly show; so did the royal couple, who followed
the great pie borne before them, with the "four-
and-twenty black-birds" popping their heads out
in the most delightful way. Little Bo-Peep led
a woolly lamb and wept over its lost tail, for not a
sign of one appeared on the poor thing. Simple
Simon" followed the pie-man, gloating over his
wares with the drollest antics. The little wife came
trundling by in a wheelbarrow and was not upset;
neither was the lady with "rings on her fingers
and bells on her toes," as she cantered along on a
rocking-horse. Bobby Shafto's yellow hair
shone finely as he led in the maid whom he came
back from sea to marry. "Miss Muffet," bowl in
hand, ran away from an immense black spider, which
waggled its long legs in a way so life-like that
some of the children shook in their little shoes.
The beggars who came to town were out in full
force, "rags, tags, and velvet gowns," quite true
to life. Boy Blue" rubbed his eyes, with hay
sticking in his hair, and tooted on a tin horn as if
bound to get the cows out of the corn. Molly,
with a long-handled frying-pan, made a capital
"Queen," in a tucked-up gown, checked apron
and high crown, to good "King Arthur," who,


543






JACK AND JILL.


very properly, did not appear after stealing the
barley-meal, which might be seen in the pan tied
up in a pudding, like a cannon-ball, ready to fry.
But Tobias, Molly's black cat, covered himself
with glory by the spirit with which he acted his
part in
"Sing, sing, what shalt I sing?
The cat's run away with the pudding-bag string."

First he was led across the stage on his hind legs,
looking very fierce and indignant, with a long tape
trailing behind him; and, being set free at the
proper moment, he gave one bound over the four-


K, ,
'//


fat King Cole" with the most ragged of the
beggar-maids. Mistress Mary," in her pretty
blue dress, tripped along with "Simple Simon"
staring about him like a blockhead. The fine
lady left her horse to. dance with Bobby Shafto"
till every bell on her slippers tinkled its tongue
out. Bo-Peep and a jolly fiddler skipped gay-
ly up and down. "Miss Muffet" took the big
spider for her partner, and made his many legs fly
about in the wildest way. The little wife got out
of the wheelbarrow to help Boy Blue" along, and
Molly, with the frying-pan over her shoulder, led
off splendidly when it was Grand right and left."


/' / / ',


AS- ~ 111

and-twenty black-birds who happened to be in the But the pld lady and her goose were the best of
way, and dashed off as if an enraged cook had all, for the dame's shoe-buckles cut the most aston-


actually been after him, straight down-stairs to the
coal-bin, where he sat, glaring in the dark, till the
fun was over.
When all the characters had filed in and stood in
two long rows, music struck up and they danced,
" All the way to Boston," a simple but lively affair,
which gave each a chance to show his or her cos-
tume as they pranced down the middle and up
outside.
Such a funny medley as it was, for there went


fishing pigeon-wings, and to see that mammoth
bird waddle down the middle with its wings half
open, its long neck '.;.ii;,-.. and its yellow legs in
the first position as it curtsied to its partner, was a
sight to remember, it was so intensely funny.
The merry old gentleman laughed till he cried;
Mr. Burton split his gloves, he applauded so en-
thusiastically; while the children beat the dust out
of the carpet hopping up and down, as they cried:
" Do it again !" We want it all over !" when the


544


[MAY,






ORIENTAL JUGGLERY.


curtain went down at last on the flushed and pant-
ing party, Mother G-- bowing, with her hat all
awry, and the goose doing a double shuffle as if it
did not know how to leave off.
But they could not do it all over again," for it
was growing late, and the people felt that they cer-
tainly had received their money's worth that even-
ing.
So it all ended merrily, and when the guests
departed the boys cleared the room like magic,
and the promised supper to the actors was served
in handsome style. Jack and Jill were at one end,
Mrs. Goose and her bird at the other, and all be-


tween was a comical collection of military heroes,
fairy characters and nursery celebrities. All felt the
need of refreshment after their labors, and swept
over the table like a flight of locusts, leaving devas-
tation behind. But they had earned their fun ; and
much innocent jollity prevailed, while a few linger-
ing papas and mammas watched the revel from
afar, and had not the heart to order these noble
beings home till even the Father of his Country
declared that he 'd had a perfectly splendid time,
but could n't keep his eyes open another minute,"
and very wisely retired to replace the immortal
cocked hat with a night-cap.


(To be continued.)





ORIENTAL JUGGLERY.

BY FANNIE ROPER FEUDGE.


THE narrow, shaded streets of an Oriental city,
thronged by crowds of sedate-looking men, with
long beards and turbaned heads, though seldom
showing a woman or child to vary the monotony,
look odd enough to unaccustomed eyes. Still
more strange seem the huge gates that lead to
private dwellings ; for the gates are always closed,
and the houses, with their high, narrow windows,
appear to have been built backwards, facing inward
on a court, instead of toward the street. These
courts are adorned with bright, tropical flowers and
cool fountains, and they form the usual lounging-
places of households, where indolent nabobs retire
from the noise and dust of the outer world to
enjoy, in the society of the family, the quiet and
repose in which orientals so especially delight.
The father is generally too dignified or too listless
to care for amusements; but his lively wives and
children indulge in various exciting pastimes.
Music and dancing, fencing, leaping and other
feats of agility, and, above all, juggleries, serve to
entertain the secluded household; and actors in
all these sports can be readily obtained by calling
in one of the bands of traveling jugglers met at
every turn in the large cities of the East. For
there is never a wedding nor a funeral, a feast nor a
fast, the consecration of a priest nor the crowning
of a king, where these "magicians," as they call
themselves, are not found. Even on the public
thoroughfares, they will sit and wait for an audi-
ence, droning their peculiar music, or throwing out
something to attract attention. Scarcely can one
pass without stopping to notice weird faces and
fantastic decorations; and, as one trick follows


another, each more wonderful than the last, every
pedestrian becomes a patron, helping to fill the
pockets of these dexterous knaves. They are be-
lieved by their countrymen to possess supernatural
powers, to act under the influence of evil spirits,
and to be able, by a mere glance of the eye, to
make well people sick and sick people weil without
so much as touching them. Of course, you know
that this is not really true of them, and that their
marvelous performances are only seeming, not
real, miracles ; but the exhibitions of their art are
strangely fascinating, nevertheless. Often have I
sat watching the feats of these jugglers, and trying
to find out the secret of their strange power, but
not a single success rewarded my efforts. The
longer one looks, the more he is bewildered; and,
though perfectly aware that he is being imposed
on, eyes, ears, touch and taste, all attest the truth
of what is absolutely'false !
On one occasion, quite a famous band of Indian
jugglers was in attendance at a great national festi-
val; and, for their use, beautifully decorated
booths and tents had been erected, and supplied
with tanks of water for the numerous ceremonial
ablutions for which the Hindoos are famous. Be-
fore eating, before sleeping, before praying, as an
" open sesame" alike to palace, theater and temple,
as part and parcel of their religion, their business,
and their pleasures, come always and everywhere
the inevitable bath and shaving of the head. And
these jugglers, one could see at a glance, came
always to the arena fresh from their ablutions and
robed in snow-white muslin. On an occasion of
such general festivity, with its thousands of wor-


545






ORIENTAL JUGGLERY.


shipers who helped to pay expenses, of course
everything that could add to the comfort of the
performers would be provided,-everything but the
barber, who, in this land of caste, is quite a "pecu-
liar institution." A Brahmin may be shaved by
none but a Brahmin; and a coolie or Sudra barber
must not, in any circumstances, shave a Vaisya or
a Kschatryah.
Let me tell you something of the difference be-
tween these classes, or castes, as they are called in
India. The Hindoos believe that the Brahmins
sprang from the head of the Creator, and so it be-
came their birthright to be the priests and lawgiv-
ers of the nation. Kschatryahs, they say, sprang
from the shoulders, and in right thereof they
fill the kingly, magisterial and military offices.
Vaisyas are said to have sprung from the body of
the god, and hence are the merchants and traders,
whom the Hindoos regard as superior to mechanics,
but in no wise fit to mingle with princes or soldiers.
Sudras, deriving their origin from Brahma's feet,
can be nothing but artisans and servants to the
three higher castes. Lower than all and despised
by all are the Pariahs, who have no caste at all,
and are held in such detestation, that it would be


leaving only a small tuft of hair on the crown. In
the picture you see the manner of performing the
operation, barber and customer being alike inde-
pendent of operating chairs, while the razor is a
clumsy tool of the commonest metal, the blade
being not more than four inches long. To hide
their shaved heads turbans are worn by the people
of Hindostan ; and by the form and color of these
coverings a practiced eye reads readily the rank
and caste of the wearers.
The first trick at the festival I have mentioned
was known as the bamboo-trick; and, though
repeated several times, the audience did not seem
to weary of it. Amid the beating of tom-toms
and the music of many instruments, the jugglers
smoothed a place on the hard, dry sand of the
arena. We were invited to examine the ground,
but we could find : .,.1,, like an opening, nor even
that the soil had been recently dug up, nor did we
discover any concealed apparatus of any sort.
Presently, a large basket of coarse wicker-work
was laid down and carelessly covered with a little
square of gauze flannel. Both basket and flannel
were passed around, so that all who chose might
satisfy themselves that these articles were quite


A


.. -
.,-- ..(.'.: :7 ".
-.- .


._ -- __ --


----, ---- -? --

THE COOLIE BARBER.
death to a Pariah if he should so much as touch empty; while in the single waist-cloth and trans-
the garments of a Brahmin, a Kschatryah, a Vaisya, parent muslin jacket, of which the dress of each
or a Sudra. actor was composed, no large article could have
So, at all the festivals, and wherever they go, been concealed. Yet, five minutes later, when the
every little squad or company takes its own barber, basket was lifted, there appeared growing in the
as the Hindoos keep their heads shaven closely, hard, sandy bed a flourishing bamboo plant, more


546


[MAY,






ORIENTAL JUGGLERY.


547


than a foot in height! When the basket had been and unpromising subjects that could be chosen. A
raised the second time, the tree was three feet high, juggler produces from the bosom of his muslin
and in twenty minutes more our wondering eyes vest eight or ten tortoises; some full grown, the
beheld a live twelve-foot bamboo clothed
with verdure, while from its top blossoms
and fruit budded out luxuriantly! One -.
of the conjurors then drew from his mouth A rA / ~
some twenty yards of strong silk cord, i
which he adroitly knotted, and attached
to half-a-dozen hooks that had been
drawn from the same roomy place. By
the aid of these he gathered the bamboo
fruit, and then, without once having left
the arena, he passed it around to be han-
died and tasted by all who wished. -:- ---
Another of the conjurors took from a --
tiny bag a single handful of paddy, which
is rice with the husk still on. He first '
lightened the soil of about two square
feet of the floor with a two-pronged fork, '
and scattered on it the handful of paddy ; .
then pouring on it a cup of water, he said: i
"Now you will please to wait until my I
crop grows, and see whether I am not
the best farmer you know." I
He turned a basket over his little plan- ,
station, and sang a simple air, so sweet
and plaintive that we were not surprised t t
when a bird seemed to answer his call.-
He lifted the basket, and sure enough, -.
there were the rice-plants, grown six .
inches high in as many minutes, and in
their midst a nest of real live rice-birds,
a mother and four nestlings! The old bird flut- others in various stages between babyhood and
tered and flapped her wings, as if frightened, youth. Having placed them all on the floor in a
then cooed softly to her little ones, and folded heap, he gently strikes his cymbal, when the tor
over them her downy wings. Meanwhile the toises begin at once to disentangle themselves, and
basket had been lying sideways on the floor to file into a long line, in the order of their sizes
where the juggler had thrown it a few minutes the largest being at the head of the column ans
before. Now he picked it up without leaving his the baby-tortoise bringing up the rear. Aroun
seat, and carelessly replaced it over the rice-plants and around the small soldiers march, moving fast
and birds, Yet the next time this mysterious has- or slower to keep time with the music, and haltin
ket was raised, nothing was to be seen but a pair the very instant it stops. Then, in obedience t
of deadly sun-snakes, writhing and twisting them- half a dozen words of command spoken by th
selves as if in a frenzy at having been pinned in master, the whole company put themselves inti
such close quarters. They darted their forked position for getting upon a table some ten inche
tongues and snapped their fiery eyes at one and high. And queer enough they look, as each, witt
another of the spectators nearest them, to the no his mouth, lays hold of the hinder part of the shel
small terror of all. But the conjuror had" only to of the one before him. When all are ready, th
wave a tiny silver wand, and, in a droning. caressing leader puts out a paw; the juggler lays hold of it
voice, to speak to the serpents, when they sprang and helps him to get up on the table, where th
into his arms, one coiling itself about his neck, the knowing tortoise sturdily plants himself, until thi
other kissing his very lips and the tip of his tongue, entire column has gained the top. Their spirit
and then hiding its hideous form in his bosom, seeming to rise in proportion to their elevation
The wonderful power these conjurors gain over the tortoises turn to dancing, tumbling, fighting
dumb animals is well proved by the tricks they mimic battles with tiny wooden swords, and per
perform with tortoises, perhaps the most sluggish forming a variety of antics as wonderful as ludicrous


I


1
r


g


h
1





s
g
3-
.





548 THE FULL-DRESS ADVENTURES OF MISS MORIARTY.


They end the series of maneuvers by this very
queer one : Putting their outstretched heads close
together for a moment, as if in consultation, the
entire band convert themselves into a pyramid in
the center of the table, the largest tortoises uniting
to form the base, while the little one at the top
then dances a regular four-footed jig. As soon as
the tiny Terpsichorean stops, the tortoises at the
bottom crawl away in opposite directions, then off
go the next, and so on, till of this whole living
structure only the top one remains. The little
fellow glances around with a bewildered air, and
then runs to his master for protection.
Another trick was performed on the occasion
referred to. A tall, muscular man threw himself
on his back, with both feet pointing upward; and,
at a single bound, a ten-year-old lad, clothed in
long, tight drawers of silver sheen, a conical cap,
and silvery wings, leaped upon the upturned soles,
and began to smoke a cheroot. Then entered a
Coolie, upon whose shoulders, head and arms one.
saw only wooden buckets. These were of the
lightest construction, and all of different sizes; and
the Coolie piled them up by the side of the man and
boy. The lad, reaching over, seized the top one,
which was the largest of the pile, and nimbly as
a cat he placed himself upon it, the top of the
bucket being turned downward, and resting on the
man's feet. The second bucket was secured in the
same way and put upon the first; the third had to


be handed to him by one of the attendants, as it
was too far off to be reached by the little fellow,
but he readily placed it in position upon the sec-
ond, stepping with all ease upon it; and so he
went on until he had used the entire heap. There
were a dozen in all, I should think; and the wee
knight, seated on this queer pile of buckets, looked,
at that dizzy height, more like a shining statue of
ebony and silver than a real live boy. Suddenly the
man at the bottom gave a dreadful yell and leaped
out of the arena at a bound, while the buckets fell
pell-mell in every direction; but out of this chaos
rose the graceful little gymnast, not only unhurt,
but evidently quite amused at the looks of conster-
ation on every face but his own. Bowing grace-
fully he disappeared, followed by shouts of applause.
More wonderful still, a juggler will appear to
kill his son, cutting off the legs and arms with a
sword, and 1i,,.-. ;,. a piece of blanket over the
remains. At the same time he plants a melon-seed
in a flower-pot filled with earth. Presently, on
lifting the blanket, the body has vanished, and a
large melon occupies the place on the ground
where the flower-pot has been. After the melon
has been looked at and handled by all who wish,
the blanket is again thrown over it. On being
lifted, a few minutes later, the melon is gone, but
the boy, who had seemed to be killed, and whose
body had been so terribly cut to pieces, sits there
alive and well, without a wound.


THE FULL-DRESS ADVENTURES
OF MISS MORIARTY.

\ Y ELEANOR KIRK.

Miss MORIARTY
Was dressed for the party
In satin, and ribbon, and lace.
She called in the cat,
And inquired, How is that? "
And the cat laughed out in her face.

Miss Moriarty,
All dressed for the party,
Went out to get into the gig.
She was white as a sheet,
For there on the seat
Sat the widow McGafferty's pig.







88so. TIIE FULL-DRESS ADVENTURES OF MISS MORIARTY.


Miss Moriarty,
Dressed up for the party,
Inquired of a froggy the way.
The frog, with a grin,
Said 't was time to go in,
For the chickens were raking hay."


Miss Moriarty,
Too late for the party,
With her laces and satin and silk,
Was ready to cry;
But an owl said, Oh, fie!"
And an elephant soothed her with milk.


Miss Moriarty,
Complete for the party
In fardingale, bodice and frill,
Then gazed at her clothes,
Till she fell in a doze,
And dreamed that she led the quadrille.


So dreamed of the party
She danced herself all out of breath;
And ere it was day,
The moon heard her say:
SWhy, bless me! I 'm tired to death!"


549






A TERM AT THE DISTRICT SCHOOL.


A TERM AT THE DISTRICT SCHOOL.
V (A Sequel to Kitty's Mother." From ihe fien of Mary Jane.)

BY A. G. PLYMPTON.





-







:--- -- .. .
' -:1-. "- :


7 -

__ jk i-_~- -


?TILDY'S HOME.


To be sure 'Tildy was an uncommon scholar for
Tuckertown, but everybody said that she was too
young to teach school. A gal o' that age," said
Deacon Fisher, "can't be expected to hev much
discipline, and I wonder the committee should
hev elected her."
It was the second summer after the one in which
I had been adopted by Kitty's mother, and I had
become older and wiser since those foolish days. I
had broken myself of all my bad habits. I never
interrupted people any more, and never answered
back. I was reformed. That spring, Lucy had
come down with the scarlet fever, and Dot and I
were sent to grandpa's to escape the contagion, and
that is how I came to go to school to 'Tildy Joy.
Before I had been in Tuckertown five minutes,
in came Beth Hall. We had always been bosom-
friends, but I remembered how she used to mock
grandpa's limp, and Aunt Jane's cough, and the
way Deacon Fisher sang through his nose, and I
wondered if I ought to go with her now that I had


reformed. While I was making up my mind, she
bounced up to me, saying :
You dear elegant Mary Jane, I'm so glad
you've come," and she kissed me, and I had to
kiss her, of course, and after that there was no use
holding back. I thought at first I 'd try and re-
form her too, but she is so full of fun, and such
a harum-scarum thing that I concluded that it
would n't be any use to try.
The minute Aunt Jane went out of the room,
Beth told me that'Tildy Joy was going to teach the
district school.
Just think of our having to mind her," she
said, scornfully, and only last year she was noth-
ing but a scholar herself, and played tag 'long of
us, recesses."
Well," said I, I sha'n't mind a word she says,
and you mustn't either, Dot."
Land, I pity the schoolma'am that has you
for a scholar," said Betsy, who had come up to
unstrap our trunk. She didn't know that I had


[MAY,


550


3i:1-







A TERM AT THE DISTRICT SCHOOL.


reformed, you see. You 're a perfect imp and
always were."
I don't care," said I, I think it's real mean of
Aunt Jane to' send us to school when we come
visiting her. 'Tis n't polite, any how."
I remembered 'Tildy perfectly. She was a real
green-looking girl, and wore the biggest sunbonnet
in Tuckertown, and that's saying a great deal.
The Joys were poor, and they lived in a curious
old black house, with a roof which sunk right
in the middle, and folks said it would tumble in
some time on their heads. Aunt Jane said that she
had heard that 'Tildy meant to fix the old house
up, now that she had a salary.
It seemed queer enough, I can tell you, to see
'Tildy in the teacher's seat that next morning, when
Beth and Dot and I went into school. She had
had her dress made long, and braided her hair
behind; and as she sat at the desk, she looked as
stiff as a stick. I could see she was trying to be
very dignified, but I remembered how she used to
tease for my cores, and I was n't going to be re-
spectful.
How d' ye do, 'Tildy? says I. Going bare-
foot this year? "
Everybody giggled except 'Tildy, and she looked
bouncing mad.
Take your place, Mary Jane," said she. "The
seat next to Beth Hall."
Did you ever hear of such a goose? The idea
of putting Beth and me together. After I had had
all the trouble of reforming, too; for I knew, the
minute I slipped into my seat, that I never could
keep that up, with Beth .;- i,: at my side. You
see she had a bad influence over me. She just set
me on. She would have made a saint in white
cut up capers, I do believe. I wonder why it was
that no one saw how she set me on; but they
did n't; they thought poor innocent me was at the
bottom of everything; and her mother even told
Aunt Jane that Beth thought she must do just as I
did, 'cause I lived in the city. Now I am sure that
she started all the mischief. It was she who pro-
posed putting the toads in 'Tildy's lunch-basket,
and it was she who wrote that letter. I believe I
told her what to say, but then that's nothing. We
had lots of fun about the letter. You see, we pre-
tended it was sent by the committee, and we ad-
dressed it to Miss 'Tildy Joy, and said that her
salary was going to be raised, and signed it Deacon
Brown. He is one of the committee, you know.
We watched her through the keyhole when she
read it, and I remember how happy she looked all
the morning, and how we giggled because she was
so much more amiable than usual.
It was a real queer school. It was n't one of the
strict kind, at all. Whenever any one missed, in a


lesson, they flung a bit of paper at the wall behind
'Tildy. She had to dodge 'em. It was such fun,
I often missed on purpose. Tildy said it was n't
dignified, but nobody cared. There is no kind of a
trick that we did not play on 'Tildy. At least, I
never heard of one. I never saw such a school
before; but it was n't my fault.
But the worst thing of all happened one day
toward the end of the term. We had been expect-
ing the committee all the morning, and had been
on our best behavior. I don't know how it came
about, but they had all got an inkling of how
things went at school. Perhaps the mothers found
out and told 'em. I know they did n't want 'Tildy
to teach next term, and they all seemed to think
that she had n't any discipline. I don't suppose
she had. Jane Fairbanks, who lived next house to
'Tildy, said she had seen Deacon Brown go in there
once, and thought, from the tone of his voice, that
he was complaining about :... i: i,._. At any
rate, she began to look pale and worried. Aunt
Jane said she hoped I was not troubling 'Tildy with
my shines. Shines, indeed! It was all very well
to feel kindly to her, but what was the use of hurt-
ing my feelings, I'd like to know. I was so mad,
or rather grieved, that I made up a face at her
every time she turned her back.
Well, the committee did n't come, and it was
recess time.
"I '11 tell you what," said Beth, "let 's climb
upon the roof, and let 'Tildy hunt for us." (I hope
you notice that it was Beth and not I who said
this.)
Let 's," said I, and we all made a rush for the
shed. We had got up on the roof before, and
knew that it was easy enough to boost each other
up from the top of the shed. There we sat, wait-
ing for the bell to ring. Pretty soon it did ring. I
heard the door open, and, by holding on to the
edge of the roof and leaning over, I could just see
'Tildy's hand with the bell in it. Then she went
in, and we waited. In a few minutes she rang it
again, furiously. We were all giggling by this
time, and if I had n't held on to Dot, she would
have rolled off the roof. Then it sounded from one
of the side windows, and then from a back window,
and then at the door again, and then 'Tildy called
and called, and finally she stepped out, and, still
ringing the bell, walked toward the woods. I shall
never forget her look when she turned round and
saw us.
Oh, my I But was n't she mad She stood at
the foot of the shed and called us to come down,
in a voice that fairly shook with rage. I don't
know why, but we insisted that we were not com-
ing down, that we were going to say our lessons up
there, and she could bring a chair out and sit down


551







A TERM AT THE DISTRICT SCHOOL.


and hear 'em. While we were still there, and position, too, and that night I dreamt that the
'Tildy stood entreating us, we heard the sound of a old Joy house had tumbled down, and folks said
wagon, and the first we knew that old committee that it was my fault.
had come. As we hopped down, one by one, from There was going to be a huckleberry party that
the roof, they stood talking with 'Tildy and watch- next day, and we all begged in vain to stay away
ing us. Beth said she thought she caught the from school and go. I did n't feel near so bad


words "too you
heard 'Tildy si
school-house, ai
tried to do our 1
plain that 'Tild:
wondered, as I


-", I -.., ir. 'T I. I, 1 ., i -, i I.. i 1 1 l
Shave noticed thaLt do most of iay
repenting, and make most of my good
How D' YE DO, 'TILDY?" SAID 1. resolutions, in the night; and I think
.ng," and "discipline." I know I it's a real good plan, 'cause it leaves the days all
gh as I passed her to go into the clear to do what you please in.
nd her eyes were full of tears. We I think it 's real mean," said Beth; "my
best in the examination, but it was mother never wants me to have any fun. Oh, if
y had lost her hope and courage. I school only would n't keep. If only the school-
walked home, if she would lose her house had blown down, or 'Tildy was sick."


552


.p--- -s..







iSo.] A TERM AT THE DISTRICT SCHOOL.


ii


____________ ~, I~jF

~iIDl.lliiIiIl'i.Ii'~ ii' Di IIilIlk..\


II L


II




,I


THE ABSENT SCHOLARS.
Oh, I wish she were," said I. I just wish she
were! I hope she ate lots of plum-pudding and
VOL. VII.-37.


...... .... r.. ,_ F.,: ,r I I ... .. .. 1 e r
I' ,
I > II 1' h h I I _t "




ki h 1.1.1.. .. i. h
,lIil, I ,, I- ,.i ,,1 i-- I1 ,111. I,. ..


"l I .,.1 1 i-
L Ii- i i-lie


', l" -,, I ,, Ir ... .. .. i ,r I ,- .1... I .2 d


,0111 .1 1 1. 1 ..11 nr i .s
N. it ,I ,, T. : .I ., '.
Si I- i I .... .. i '
;i ;II,-id


III'


I I ... .,, i
I ,.. l. I ,-,'r ....... i : ,..I h ,. .r 1 ,n -






'v ay du, u 1 I jllllld ILll vi.' ull uI, n a
cave, where we often played house, Beth and
me. I went there because I would be sure of seeing
no one. There I sat all the forenoon, and thought


553


* 'I
4's


4. -
.11






CURIOUS FACTS CONCERNING ANTS.


of all the tricks we had played on 'Tildy, and called
myself and poor little Dot and Beth all the hard
names I could think of. I know I must have felt
real sorry, for I made up my mind to go and tell
'Tildy so, and promise to be a better girl in the
future.
As I came out by 'Tildy's house, what was my
surprise to find Beth sitting on the old stone wall
by the road.
Well, if I ever," said I. "What did you come
here for ?"
I'm going to see'Tildy," explained Beth. My
conscience has been pricking me till I feel like a
pincushion, and I'm just going to tell 'Tildy how
sorry I am, and that I shall behave like an angel
when she comes back."
Well," said I, "that's what I came for. Let's
go together, for, you know, folks say we always set
each other on. Now, Beth, you begin and set me
on pretty quick, 'cause aunt Jane will be as cross
as a bear if I don't get home in time for dinner."
But you must set me on, too," said Beth.
"I 'm trying, but you don't go," I answered.
Beth sniffed, It's all bosh about my setting
you on, Mary Jane. You don't budge an inch.
I '11 bet I could fush you along a lot faster," and
before I knew what she was about, I was right in
front of the door. I meant to knock and then slip
round the corner, leaving Beth to face the music;
but the door opened suddenly, and Mrs. Joy,
'Tildy's mother, stood upon the threshold.
What do you want," said she, in, oh, szuc a


tone of voice. "You 've about killed my 'Tildy
with your capers, and now I won't have you hang-
ing round the house. If you don't clear out this
minute I '11 set the dog on to you."
We ran every step of the way home.
Oh, my," gasped Beth, "was n't she awful?"
That afternoon we went huckleberrying.
The summer passed and there was no school,
but 'Tildy was getting better slowly before I left
Tuckertown. I went up to bid her good-bye the
day of the county fair, when Beth said her mother
would be sure to be out, and I told her how sorry
I was for everything I had done to annoy her.
'Tildy said that her uncle had invited her to spend
the winter in New York, and she was going to wait
till she was a little older before she tried to teach
school again.
I add a letter which I received about a month
after I got home. It was from Beth, and read:
"DEAR MARY JANE: You know I promised to write you what the
new teacher was like. Well, she is a D R A G O N.
"The Committee was determined to have no more such doings as
we had while'Tildy was here, and they put an advertisement in the
paper for the crossest woman in America. Guess you would think
they had found her, if you were here now. She begins the morning
exercises by whipping all the big boys. I don't mind that so much
as some other things, though. She has got plenty of discipline.
We don't climb on the roof, recesses, any more. We don't put toads
in her lunch basket. I don't like her. I don't think she is a very
good teacher for she don't explain things clear. I don't think we
get on as well as we did when we had 'Tildy. I told Deacon Green
so. He laughed. All the mothers like her.
"Your affectionate friend, ELIZABETH HALL.
"P. S.-I don't know for certain that they advertised for Miss
Clarke, but everything else is just as I have said. Honest injun. "


CURIOUS FACTS CONCERNING ANTS.

BY E. W. OLNEY.


DID any of you ever happen to see the swarming
of the winged ants some afternoon in late summer ?
Those of you who have never thought of ants but
as the wingless little creatures who run about the
gardens, may be startled by such a question. But
when it gets to be July or August, watch the ant-
hills and nests, and you will see, one day, that they
seem alive with millions of tiny creatures, all in a
state of bustling activity ; and, presently, there will
emerge great numbers of insects in such constant
motion that, at a little distance, they resemble
glittering silver and jet ribbons interlacing and
intertwining. They slowly mount into the air,
vibrating languidly up and down as they fly: they
never rise higher than ten feet, but move on, at


that distance from the ground, until scattered by
the wind or rain.
These swarms are caused by the young broods
coming to their full growth.
There are three sexes among ants,-males,
females, and neuters or workers. The males and
females alone have wings, which they enjoy for one
day of their lives. Comparatively few survive, and
these are the mother-ants, who are destined to
form new families. They cast off their wings at
once, and sometimes find dwellings for them-
selves; but, oftener, the neuters seek homes for
them, clip off their wings, and lead them to their
cells. In some families of ants, more than one
female is allowed in the nest; but as a usual thing,


554


[MAY,






CURIOUS FACTS CONCERNING ANTS.


there is only one mother-ant, who is sometimes
termed the queen. The neuters, or working ants,
are her subjects; but she might almost be called
their prisoner, for she is constantly watched and
tended by them; they even feed her, and stand
over her when she rests. As soon as she begins to
lay her eggs, each one is the object of the most
faithful care on the part of the neuters, and the eggs
are borne away and carefully piled in little heaps,
and watched and guarded until they hatch. When
the shell is first broken, the infant ant is perfectly
helpless and not unlike a tiny worm: it is fed by
the neuters with juices gathered for the purpose,
and it is carried about to obtain warmth and
light. One of the chief duties of the neuters at
this time is to bear the small larvae (as the newly-
hatched ants are called) out into the sunshine ; but
if the heat is too great, or if rain threatens, they at
once take the larvae and carry them into the in-
side rooms. After the larve have remained in
this helpless state for a time, they spin them-
selves cocoons, but they still depend on the neuters,
who at length break each cocoon and release the
nympha, or pupa, which is the fully developed ant.
As we have said before, these young ants are of
three kinds, males, females and neuters, and as
soon as the wings of the first two kinds hava.grown,
they leave the nest and fly away. The males never
return. The neuters and the queen-ants alone
inhabit the cells until the next year, when the new
family is ready to swarm.
Such is the constant system going on in the ant-
hills and nests we see all about us. We have
several varieties of ants in our fields and gardens,-
the red, brown, yellow, and black ants,-and each
kind has its own method of obtaining food and
building its habitation. Some of them construct
the little conical mounds which we call ant-hills.
These are the outlets to vast subterranean abodes,
and, on being carefully laid open with a spade,
arched galleries, domes, pillars and partitions are
disclosed, all beautifully smoothed and finished, and
about one-fifth of an inch in height. The ant is
probably the most enlightened builder of all the
wonderful species of insects, birds and animals who
construct their own homes. Ants have been
observed to use straws and sticks, which they
happened to come across in their excavations, for
beams to support the ceilings of their domes.
Other ants raise a structure above the surface of
the ground, and carefully build one story above
another, containing large rooms with arched ceil-
ings. Still others make their homes in decaying
wood, in which they burrow hundreds of tiny gal-
leries and chambers.
Their muscular power, their perseverance and
capacity for steady endurance, are simply won-


derful; and no such rapid and perfect workers
exist; for man, with all his scientific skill and his
tools, could never begin to accomplish in a day
what these tiny creatures achieve without imple-
ments and against all manner of obstacles. Com-
paring the size of an ant with the size of a man,
and making the same proportion in the amount of
their work, not twenty men could begin to accom-
plish in one day the work of a single ant, for the
interior of each one of their tunnels is perfectly
finished; each pellet of earth is prepared almost as
carefully as we prepare the bricks that line our
own excavations.
In Central and Southern America is to be found
a variety called the Saiiba ant, and in parts of those
tropical regions these ants exist in such numbers that
they sometimes take possession of the country, and
almost drive away the population. They were for-
merly called the Parasol ant, because immense
columns of them were seen marching along, each
one carrying in its jaws a circular piece of leaf about
the size of a dime, which they held by one of the
edges; and it was supposed that the little creatures
thus endeavored to ward off the burning heat of
the sun, which sometimes kills ants. But a careful
naturalist, studying their habits, discovered that
these leaves were used to thatch the domes of their
habitations. Strange to say, nowhere is division of
labor more complete than in the building of ants'
homes, for the laborers who gather and fetch leaves
do not place them, but merely fling them on the
ground and start at once for more, while other
workers take them up, place them, and carefully
cover them with minute globules of prepared earth.
But, although the neuter ants as a general thing
are such admirable workers, we find among other
varieties totally different customs; and, instead of a
family of ants being composed of faithful co-workers
and females, we occasionally find something resem-
bling an aristocracy. Peter Huber, a renowned
naturalist, who devoted his life to the observation
of the habits of ants, relates the following story:
The afternoon of the I7th of June, 1804, he was
walking in the suburbs of Geneva, when he saw a
regiment of large red ants crossing the road. They
marched in good order, with a front of three or four
inches, and in a column eight or ten feet long.
Huber followed them, crossed a hedge, and entered
a pasture-ground where the grass was thick and
high, and presently came upon a nest belonging to
another species of ants, blackish or ash-colored.
A few of these little creatures were guarding the
entrance, and, as soon as they perceived the red
ants, some of them darted angrily upon them,
while the others rushed inside to give the alarm.
The besieged ants came out in a body; the enemy
dashed upon them, and, after a short but spirited


555






CURIOUS FACTS CONCERNING ANTS.


struggle, succeeded in driving them back into their
holes, and followed them in. Huber, who was
used to seeing battles among ants, supposed that


"I--q;




-.-
-. '.E -- s- -


CARRYING THE LARVAE OUT INTO THE SUNSHINE.
the red ants were slaughtering the black ones
inside the nest; but not so. What was his surprise
when, five minutes later, the red ants emerged,
each holding between its mandibles an egg, or
cocoon, of the conquered tribe They retook the
same road they had come, and made their way
back to their homes still loaded with their prey.
This expedition-showing such fierce, warlike
qualities and determined kidnapping on the part
of the red ants-naturally inspired M. Huber to
study their characteristics by watching their ant-
hills. He discovered that the red ants (which he
at once named the Amazons, from their warlike
attributes) never worked, but that their sole duty
was to fight, and carry off these eggs and cocoons
from the black ants; and that the work was per-
formed entirely by those black ants which had, in
fact, been taken prisoners before they were hatched.
The Amazons are quite helpless, and the black, or
negro, ants, named by Huber 'auxiliaries," perform
all the labor which among other species is per-
formed by the neuters of the same family. They
open and close all the outlets and inlets to the nest;
they go after food and feed the helpless larvae and
pupte, both the young of the Amazons and those
which have been stolen; they also feed their mas-
ters, the Amazons, and, in fact, carry on the entire
establishment. Huber made an experiment which
very plainly shows the dependence of the Amazons
upon their auxiliaries. He inclosed thirty Amazons
with several of their own nymphce and larvae, be-
sides twenty of the black ant nymphat, in a glass
box, the bottom of which was covered with a thick


layer of earth : honey was given to them, so that
they lacked neither shelter nor food, although they
were cut off from their auxiliaries. At first they
paid some little attention to the young, and carried
them about here and there; but they soon left
them. They did not even know how to provide
themselves with food, and several died of hunger
at the end of two days, although the honey-drops
were close beside them !
The others were weak and languid, and not one
of them had made the slightest effort to build
a home for himself in the earth. Huber was
sorry for them, and put on/e black auxiliary ant in
the glass box. The faithful little worker at once
established order and comfort, built a house in the
earth and gathered together the infant larvae and
placed them inside it, and preserved the lives of
the helpless Amazons about to perish of hunger.
In order to more perfectly get at the facts of
their ways and doings, Huber opened and dis-
ordered an ant-hill where both Amazons and
auxiliaries lived together, and so confused the
boundaries that the Amazons could not find their
way about. The auxiliaries, however, seemed to
be much better able to detect the old paths.
Huber writes-: "An Amazon was frequently seen
to approach a black ant and play upon its head
with its antennae, or feelers, when the black ant at
once seized its master in its pincers and laid it at
one of the entrances. The Amazon then unrolled
itself, caressed once more its kind friend, and
passed into the interior of the nest."
Those remarkable organs, the antennae, with
which the Amazon touches the auxiliary, seem to
be their principal instruments of communication,
and to take the place of voice and words. When the
military ants are to set out for a foray, or a battle,
they touch each other on the trunks with the














REJOICINGS IN THE QUEEN'S CELL. (SEE NErXT PAGE.)
antenna and forehead; and this is the signal for
marching, for as soon as any one has received it
1,, 1 I ,







he is instantly in motion. If a h ry Amazon
-"-~


R' JOICINGS I' THE .,UEIN)S CL L.. (SE NEXT PAGE.)
antenn,- and forehead; and this is the signal for


wants to be fed, he touches with his two antennae
the auxiliary from whom ihe expects his meal.


556


[MAY,







CURIOUS FACTS CONCERNING ANTS.


The helpless larvae, too, are thus touched when it
is time for them to open their mouths and receive
their food. Ants show great kindness to inmates
of their own nests that happen to be in trouble.
Sir John Lubbock relates that in one of his nests
of a certain species there was a poor ant which
had come into the world without antennae. Never
having previously met with such a case, he watched
her with great interest, but she appeared never to


expressed by motions of joy and exultation. They
have a peculiar way of skipping and leaping, stand-
ing upon their hind legs and prancing with the
others. These frolics they make use of both to
congratulate each other when they meet and to
show their regard for their queen."
Let us recount another experiment of M Hu-
ber's: He took an ant-hill from the woods and put
it in his glass hive. Finding that he had too many


THE DRIVER ANTS OF AFRICA. (SEE NEXT PAGE.)


leave the nest. At length, one day, he found her
wandering about in an aimless way, apparently not
knowing whither to turn. After a while she fell in
with some specimens of different ants, who directly
attacked her. He rescued her, but she was evi-
dently badly wounded, and lay helpless on the
ground. After some time an ant from her own
nest came that way, examined the .poor sufferer
carefully, and then picked her up and carried her
home.
In many ways these tiny creatures show their
intelligence, their affection and tenderness toward
each other. In whatever apartment," says Gould,
" a queen-ant condescends to be present, she com-
mands obedience and respect. A universal glad-
ness spreads throughout the whole cell, and is


ants, he let sonie of them escape, and they made a
nest in his garden. He kept the hive in his study
for four months, then put it in his garden, some
forty feet from the nest the others had formed.
The ants in the garden nest at once recognized
their former companions, whom they had not seen
for four months. They entered the hive and
caressed their old friends with their antenna;
and taking them up in their mandibles, bore them
to their own nest.
Not only have these insects strong affections, but
they have strong passions as well, and often indulge
in long and bloody wars. At first, two combatants
seize each other, tearing off each other's legs and
antenna, and injecting their acid poison into the
wounds. Others take part on each side till long


s88o.]


557







CURIOUS FACTS CONCERNING ANTS


chains are formed, each column I u 1IH. for the
mastery. Thus, myriads of them fight for days,
until violent rains, or other causes, separate them,
they forget their quarrel and peace is restored.
Some statements regarding ants, although well
authenticated, almost pass belief; for instance, it
is affirmed,- both by Linnaeus and Huber, that four
or five species of ants milk the aphides-those little
plant-lice which deposit the honey-dew on the
leaves of trees in summer and autumn-in order to
obtain the sweet fluid with which their bodies are
filled. These aphides, or plant-lice, are called by
naturalists the milch-cows of the ants, and nothing
is more highly prized as food by the ants than the
honey they obtain from them by pressing the
bodies of the insects with their antennae. These
aphides have often been found in the nests of the
yellow ants, apparently domesticated. They were
evidently highly prized as domestic animals by
their masters, for on the slightest appearance of
danger they took them up in their jaws and
carried them to a more secure spot. During
autumn, winter and spring, many varieties of ants
keep aphides, and rely on them for food, for the
aphides can live upon the roots of plants which grow
down into the nests. In northern climates ants do
not otherwise lay in a stock of food for winter, for
they are torpid under the effects of cold, but in
warmer countries they store away their winter sup-
ply of nutriment .- -' :Cii..
In the tropics these little creatures exist in count-


they drive before them any living creature, for no
animal can withstand them. They destroy every-
thing that crosses their path,-even the agile
monkey,-for once let them make a lodgment on
the body of any living creature and they devour
it. Even reptiles fall victims to these ants,-the
large lizards of those countries and snakes. Their
manner of attacking snakes is to bite the eyes, as
this causes them to writhe and flounder blindly in
one spot instead of gliding away ; and the masses
of insects which at once settle upon the helpless
prey soon finish it. The natives say that when
the great python has crushed its victim within its
deadly folds, it does not devour it at once, but
makes a careful examination of the land at least
half a mile on every side to discover if an army
of these Driver ants is on the march. If so, it
retreats, leaving its dinner to them; but if the
coast is clear it returns to its prey, swallows it, and
gives itself up to repose until the meal is digested.
So great is the dread of these Driver ants among
the human inhabitants, that, as their armies ap-
proach, whole villages are deserted.
But in South America is found a species called
the Ecitons, or Foraging ants, which the people of
those countries hail as deliverers. For the houses
are overrun with venomous little creatures of all
kinds,-all of them ugly and many of them
dangerous, as their fangs are full of poison.
There are scorpions, centipedes, lizards, besides
armies of 1; u. ;,.. cockroaches and every variety


I.. -
ii Ti


CLEANING HOUSE.


less varieties, and many of them are of such fierce
character and strong instincts that they are a scourge
to the human population of the countries they
inhabit. Among these species is the Driver ant, of
Western Africa. They are called Drivers because


of smaller insect and vermin which can infest the
habitations of man.
Against all such torments the Ecitons wage war.
These foraging ants sally forth in vast narrow
columns of at least two hundred feet in length ; on


558


[MAY,






CURIOUS FACTS CONCERNING ANTS.


the outside of the column are officers like ser-
geants, who incessantly run backward and forward
to see that every one is in his place.
The advent of these fierce little foragers is known
by numbers of birds called pittas or ant-thrushes
which fly above them; and as soon as the Central
Americans perceive the ants, they rejoice in their
expected relief, and at once open their houses
for them; not only doors
and windows but every
box and drawer, every
closet and cupboard is -
opened to its widest; this -
done, the inhabitants re-
tire from the. premises
until the war is over. ---
Presently the Ecitons
approach. First they
send their vanguard to
inspect the houses and _
see if they will repay --
the trouble of a search. --=
Then the long ant-col- ---
umn pours in, and pene- .
rates each crack and -
corner and enters every
nook and cranny. Not -
alone the smaller ver- -
min, but cockroaches,
rats and mice fall speedy
victims to them, and -
even the scorpion and
centipede are powerless .-- ---
against them. In a won- -
derfully short time the
house is cleaned out, and
the army passes on laden ---
with spoils, leaving the -'____
inhabitants to return and
find no intruders upon
their comfort-no scor- A
A NATIVE AFRICAN I
pions in their shoes, nor
cockroaches .in their food. But even our own
common ants will not hesitate to attack reptiles
if provoked, as is proved by the I .11 i, interest-
ing account by Dr. J. T. Payne:
While camping in Alabama, during the late
war, I witnessed an attack of a band of black ants
upon a striped snake. One evening, while I was
trying to go to sleep after a long day's march, I
felt something move under my head. I lifted one
corner of the blanket and found a snake between
three and four feet in length. I quickly hit it with
a small stick; but the snake hardly seemed to be
stunned by the blow, for he coiled himself up.
Then, with the aid of the stick, I threw him about
fifteen feet away, and he landed upon a large ant-


hill. Almost instantly the ants came forth from
their nest, which was underground, and began a
vigorous attack upon the intruder, who soon was
covered by scores of his small assailants, biting him
fearfully. I thought the snake would move away
quickly, but he seemed resolutely determined to
fight. The battle raged with great fury, and in a
few minutes there was formed about the spot a


4 ,-







-
,:...-_ ,: --:, : : .- 7_ .'.':-- -
_- --- _: _-_=. r," % -. --= '


~-4--


DESTROYING A HOUSE OF TERMITES, OR WHITE ANTS.

circle of human observers, who had been called
together by the unusual sight. The contest seemed,
at first, to be an unequal one; for the snake was
rapidly thinning out his persecutors. But, on the
other hand, the ants were very numerous, and quick
in their aggressive movements. The active little
creatures fought with a desperation wonderful to
behold, while the snake, by one blow of his power-
ful tail, would kill or wound a long line of ants.
It so happened that the soil was soft and sandy,
and the snake soon worked himself by his twisting
several feet from the nest. When he struck the
ants, many were forced into the sand, stunned for a
moment or two. but then they jumped up and
fought as vigorously as before. I was astonished


559


i880.]


m






CURIOUS FACTS CONCERNING ANTS.


beyond measure to see the tactics of the ants.
When they perceived that their numbers were
being lessened, they despatched couriers for rein-
forcements, which appeared on the scene in due
time, to replace the killed and wounded. Several
hours passed, and the fight still raged. The moon,
after a time, lit the scene; but as there appeared
to be no signs of a near termination of the strug-
gle, one after another of the spectators sought a
comfortable place to sleep, and I myself at length
felt my eyes grow heavy, and again stretched my-
self on my blanket.
"Before moving away from the scene, next
morning, I thought I would take a look at the
field that had interested so many spectators during
the previous evening.
The battle between the ants and the snake
had ended, and on the ground were evidences that
the struggle had been severe indeed. The slain
insects were scattered in every direction; but there
were six or seven watchful ants upon the back of
the snake, which lay stretched out near the ant-
hill-dead."
By far the most wonderful of all varieties of
the ant-tribe are the Termites, or white ants of the
East Indies and Southern America, but they differ
in so many respects from the ordinary ant that
some naturalists do not class them among ants,
but among the neuropterous insects. Their fam-
ilies are composed of males, females and neuters;
they live in communities and construct hills and
turrets, and so much resemble the true ants, or
Formicidae, that, outside of scientific rules, they
seem to be of the same general family. They
swarm at certain seasons like true ants, in the
manner that we have described, but in such pro-
digious numbers that they form the chief food of the
birds, reptiles, and even of the men living near,
who are on the lookout for them as they fall to the
ground after their short day of aerial life. Few
survive this swarming, for they are devoured as a
great delicacy by all sorts of ant-eaters. But it is
probably a law of nature that only a few queen-
ants should live, as each one lays eggs to the
amount of some thirty millions. The working
ants, after gaining a queen, inclose her in a sort of
cell, to preserve her from her enemies, it is sup-
posed-for herlarge, soft body renders her incapa-


ble of taking care of herself. In this cell are
small holes, to enable the workers to pass inside
and gather the eggs, which she lays more rapidly
than one can credit; sixty a minute,-upwards of
eighty thousand in twenty-four hours.
The houses built by Termites are, compared
with the builders' size, the highest in the world.
Man, in order to compete with these insects, must
raise an edifice two thousand eight hundred
feet in height; for one of these white ants is but a
quarter of an inch long, and one inch, for it, is
equal to twenty-four fget for a man. These nests
are ten and twelve feet above the ground, and
beneath are large galleries, extending hundreds
of yards under the earth; and the roads from
these lower chambers wind in spirals up to the
top of the hill. The view of these habitations
from a distance much resembles an assemblage
of huts, and the hills are composed of a sort of
clay which in time bears grass and other plants.
The principal food of these creatures is wood,
although they will work through almost anything;
they are miners in their tactics, and always eat
first through the interior of what they attack,
leaving the outer surface apparently untouched.
Their obvious place in the economy of the universal
system of things is to absorb the constantly decay-
ing vegetable matter which encumbers tropical
forests. They devour enormous fallen trees in a
few weeks.
Ants' instincts are certainly most wonderful,
and their tenacity of life, when attacked by human
agencies, at times shows absolute powers of reason.
Nothing in animal or insect life can surpass their
perseverance, their industry, nor their attachment
to their young, although, strange to say, that
attachment is alone displayed by the sexless neu-
ters, while the mother-ant seems to be a mere ma-
chine for laying eggs.
Ants have always been and continue to be a
torment to the human race, but, nevertheless, not all
the discomfort at times arising fiom their depre-
dations has ever lessened the curiosity and patient
study of those who have spent their lives chronicling
their habits and instincts, their forays and wars;
and we must all regard with interest and admiration
the activity, harmony and cheerful energies which
reign in their swarming but tiny communities.


560


[MAY,







WHAT THEY SAID.


DOROTHY DUMP.


^), -.:7-. >-

1; i^. i( ,t
: jl L ;


DOROTHY DUMP, Dorothy Dump,
Sat in her palace, forlorn;
She ate her honey and counted her money,
And moped from morn to morn.
" What a dolorous world !" said Dorothy Dump;
I wish I had never been born "


-" \v


.. .





lit3
'



, *. ', ;
v ,.
.L .


v '?


I i


WHO 'LL '


BE BARBARA


BRIGHT ?


. 'j. .I -

;


BARBARA BRIGHT.

BARBARA BRIGHT, Barbara Bright,
Toiled for the wretched and poor;
She gave them money and fed them with honey,
And taught them how to be truer.
' What a beautiful world said Barbara Bright;
'T is good to be living, I 'm sure!"


561


WHO 'LL BE


\DOROTHY


DUMP?


I ~
'



~
'i ~*1 "
c~ .~


I


I.'


1-
) ii


188o.]


iJ


r '


1


I


I i


r-'


I







THE AIRPORT NINE.


THE AIRPORT NINE.

BY NOAH. BROOKS.

CHARACTERS IN THE STORY.
THE AIRPORT NINE. THE WHITE BEARS.
Pitcher-Ned Martin. Pitcher-Jake Coombs.
Catcher-John Hale, otherwise The Lob." Catcher-Eph Weeks.
rst Base-Jo Murch. Ist Base-Joe Patchen.
2d Base-Hi Hatch. 2d Base-George Bridges.
3dBase-James Pat Adams. 3dBase-Sam Booden, Captain.
SIort Stop-Sam Perkins, Captain. Short StoP-Eph Mullett, otherwise "Nosey."
Left Field-Sam Black, otherwise "Blackie." Left Fie/d-Dan Morey.
Center Field--Billy Hetherington. Center Field-Joe Fitts.
Right Field-Bill Watson, otherwise "Chunky." Right Field-Peletiah Snelgro.
The whole assisted by a large number of young ladies and gentlemen, who do not belong to any base-ball nine, but who hope to, if they
live long enough.


CHAPTER I.
RINGING THE BELL.
IN Fairport, every boy slept with some other
boy on the night before the Fourth of July. If
any boy did sleep in his own bed, it was because
he had a playmate with him. But, for the most
part, the boys of that period thought it poor fun to
sleep at home on that eventful night. They all
preferred to sleep in barns, hay-mows, or some
other out-of-the-way and unusual place. It was a
sign that a fellow was a milk-sop if he slept in a
real bed on that night, except under such circum-
stances as have just been referred to. For there
was a great deal to be done on the night before the
Fourth. In the first place, there was a bonfire to
be built on the common. There was a large, bare
spot in the middle of the common where the grass
refused to grow from one year's end to another,
because the bonfire was built there on the night
before the Fourth. And to feed that fire, it was
necessary to gather much fuel from various and
distant places. Spare barrels, store-boxes, and
occasionally a loose board.from off some careless
person's fence, were to be brought in. The boys
did not take gates off their hinges to kindle the fire,
as tradition said that their older brothers did, when
they were boys. The time of which I write was a
great improvement on that elder period. No boy
fed the bonfire with ... -i;.- more valuable than
the few loose things that could be picked up with-
out alarming the neighbors. The neighbors were
easily alarmed, anyhow. There was a class of old
ladies in Fairport who never remembered from one
Fourth of July to another that, on the night before
it, the boys, ever since there were any boys, built a
bonfire on the common. So, when the bright
flames began to rise up in the darkness, one or
more of these timid women would be sure to come


out on her door-step and cry: Boys! Boys!
What are you doing? You 'll set the town a-fire,
you pesky boys "
Jo Murch ( his whole name was Jotham Augus-
tus Murch) used to be very much mortified when
his mother came out like that, and he would say:
" Now, Ma, don't be so foolish. There is n't any
danger of our setting anything a-fire Once, one
of the Selectmen of the town, a very dignified and
truly awful person, came upon the common to see
what the boys were at. It was nearly midnight,
and it seemed as if something alarming was about
to happen when the great man came out at that
time of night. But he only looked the party of
boys all over, as if to be sure that he would know
them again, if anything happened, and then he
went away, telling them to be careful of the sparks.
My! Was n't I afraid he would see old
Snelgro's wheelbarrow said Ned Martin, when
the Selectman was gone.
At midnight, as near as they could guess, it was
necessary that the meeting-house bell should be
rung. At least, every Fairport boy thought it
was necessary; and it was rung. There was a
bell on the school-house at the right of the com-
mon, only, as nobody but the nearest neighbors
objected to the ringing of this bell, the boys did
not much enjoy ringing it. They took a pull
at it, once in a while, for fear that the folks
around would not know that the glorious Fourth
had arrived. The folks usually found it out before
day-break. The town bell was on the Unitarian
meeting-house, below the school-house, and facing
the street which skirted the bottom of the Com-
mon. To ring this bell was not only necessary,
but it was also a great feat. The Selectmen had
forbidden that the bell should be rung by any-
body but the town sexton, except in case of fire.
From time immemorial, Old Fitts had been the


562


[MAY,







THE AIRPORT NINE.


THE AIRPORT NINE.

BY NOAH. BROOKS.

CHARACTERS IN THE STORY.
THE AIRPORT NINE. THE WHITE BEARS.
Pitcher-Ned Martin. Pitcher-Jake Coombs.
Catcher-John Hale, otherwise The Lob." Catcher-Eph Weeks.
rst Base-Jo Murch. Ist Base-Joe Patchen.
2d Base-Hi Hatch. 2d Base-George Bridges.
3dBase-James Pat Adams. 3dBase-Sam Booden, Captain.
SIort Stop-Sam Perkins, Captain. Short StoP-Eph Mullett, otherwise "Nosey."
Left Field-Sam Black, otherwise "Blackie." Left Fie/d-Dan Morey.
Center Field--Billy Hetherington. Center Field-Joe Fitts.
Right Field-Bill Watson, otherwise "Chunky." Right Field-Peletiah Snelgro.
The whole assisted by a large number of young ladies and gentlemen, who do not belong to any base-ball nine, but who hope to, if they
live long enough.


CHAPTER I.
RINGING THE BELL.
IN Fairport, every boy slept with some other
boy on the night before the Fourth of July. If
any boy did sleep in his own bed, it was because
he had a playmate with him. But, for the most
part, the boys of that period thought it poor fun to
sleep at home on that eventful night. They all
preferred to sleep in barns, hay-mows, or some
other out-of-the-way and unusual place. It was a
sign that a fellow was a milk-sop if he slept in a
real bed on that night, except under such circum-
stances as have just been referred to. For there
was a great deal to be done on the night before the
Fourth. In the first place, there was a bonfire to
be built on the common. There was a large, bare
spot in the middle of the common where the grass
refused to grow from one year's end to another,
because the bonfire was built there on the night
before the Fourth. And to feed that fire, it was
necessary to gather much fuel from various and
distant places. Spare barrels, store-boxes, and
occasionally a loose board.from off some careless
person's fence, were to be brought in. The boys
did not take gates off their hinges to kindle the fire,
as tradition said that their older brothers did, when
they were boys. The time of which I write was a
great improvement on that elder period. No boy
fed the bonfire with ... -i;.- more valuable than
the few loose things that could be picked up with-
out alarming the neighbors. The neighbors were
easily alarmed, anyhow. There was a class of old
ladies in Fairport who never remembered from one
Fourth of July to another that, on the night before
it, the boys, ever since there were any boys, built a
bonfire on the common. So, when the bright
flames began to rise up in the darkness, one or
more of these timid women would be sure to come


out on her door-step and cry: Boys! Boys!
What are you doing? You 'll set the town a-fire,
you pesky boys "
Jo Murch ( his whole name was Jotham Augus-
tus Murch) used to be very much mortified when
his mother came out like that, and he would say:
" Now, Ma, don't be so foolish. There is n't any
danger of our setting anything a-fire Once, one
of the Selectmen of the town, a very dignified and
truly awful person, came upon the common to see
what the boys were at. It was nearly midnight,
and it seemed as if something alarming was about
to happen when the great man came out at that
time of night. But he only looked the party of
boys all over, as if to be sure that he would know
them again, if anything happened, and then he
went away, telling them to be careful of the sparks.
My! Was n't I afraid he would see old
Snelgro's wheelbarrow said Ned Martin, when
the Selectman was gone.
At midnight, as near as they could guess, it was
necessary that the meeting-house bell should be
rung. At least, every Fairport boy thought it
was necessary; and it was rung. There was a
bell on the school-house at the right of the com-
mon, only, as nobody but the nearest neighbors
objected to the ringing of this bell, the boys did
not much enjoy ringing it. They took a pull
at it, once in a while, for fear that the folks
around would not know that the glorious Fourth
had arrived. The folks usually found it out before
day-break. The town bell was on the Unitarian
meeting-house, below the school-house, and facing
the street which skirted the bottom of the Com-
mon. To ring this bell was not only necessary,
but it was also a great feat. The Selectmen had
forbidden that the bell should be rung by any-
body but the town sexton, except in case of fire.
From time immemorial, Old Fitts had been the


562


[MAY,






THE AIRPORT NINE.


town sexton, and if any man really hated boys,
Old Fitts did. Probably he never was a boy. It
seemed absurd to think that he ever could have
been a boy. Boys were his natural enemies.
They used to shin up the lightning-rod of the
church and catch the pigeons which he reared in
the belfry; and they used to ring the bell on the
night before the Fourth of July. Generation after
generation of boys had done this; but, somehow,
Old Fitts could never become reconciled to it. On
the particular night about which I am going to
write, Old Fitts had not only nailed up one of the
two church doors and put an extra padlock on
the other, but he had carried away the bell-rope.
The Fairport boys were a curious set. They
laughed among themselves when they saw him
going home, after he had rung the nine o'clock
bell, with the long bell-rope coiled up on his back.
But when they flew to the doors, after he was well
out of sight, and beheld the defenses which he
had put on them, they began to think that, for
the first time in the history of the world, the bell
would not be rung on the night before the Fourth
of July.
As the boys scattered to the barns and hay-mows
where they had chosen to sleep, Ned Martin said
to his crony, Sam Perkins:
I '11 ring that bell before daylight, you see."
"But how, Ned?"
Now, Sam was the leader of the boys in almost
all of the mischief that was afoot, and he was, be-
side all that, the captain of the Fairport Nine. For
Fairport had a base-ball nine, and it was the terror
of the surrounding villages. Of course, Sam did
not want any other boy to lead off in a feat of this
kind unless he had a hand in it himself. But Ned
Martin knew a thing or two, and Sam was sure
that he would ring the bell, if he said so. And
when the boys, three of them, for Hi Hatch bunked
in with them that night, were safely hidden in the
hay, Ned unfolded to them his plan. It was a
good scheme, and all agreed to it.
In all the world, probably, there is no stillness
like that which comes between nine o'clock and
the time when the Fairport boys get up to ring
the bell and build their bonfire, on the night before
the Fourth of July. At least, Hiram Hatch thought
so that night, as he lay awake in the hay in his
father's barn, listening to the heavy breathing of
his mates. The spears of hay tickled his ear so
that he could not get to sleep; and the stillness was
awful. He almost wished that he was snug in his
own bed, and he wondered why Ned and Sam
should go to sleep so soon, and he should be so
broad awake. There was a sound of something on
the barn floor below. It was a tread Then he
heard a ghostly whisper, and he felt the hair rising


on his head. Desperately poking Sam in the back
he whispered:
There is :i...... i,; climbing up the ladder! "
Sam bounced up and cried: What's-what's
that! "
There was a scrambling and a rush of feet below,
and all was still again. But Hiram was too .11i
scared to go to sleep at once, and when, tired out
by his long vigil, he did drop off into slumber, he
slept so soundly that Sam had hard work to wake
him, as he shook him and shouted in his ear:
Remember you have got to play second base,
to-day."
What do you s'pose that was in the barn, just
now? shivered Hiram, for the midnights in Fair-
port are cool, seeing that the town is on Penobscot
Bay, on the cold coast of Maine.
Oh bother! said Sam. "Let's get out of
this as still as we can. If your father should hear
us, as likely as not he 'd fire that double-barreled
shot-gun at us."
Hiram held his peace, for the double-barreled
shot-gun was a sore subject with him, since he had
promised to carry it off on the sly and have it for
firing the usual midnight salute. He was com-
forted now by the reflection that he had not the
responsibility of that gun on his mind; and Ned
assured him that the noise in the night was prob-
ably only made by some of the other boys who had
intended to steal a place to sleep, without waking up
the rightful tenants.
Silently, and as if bent on some dreadful deed,
dark forms now stole in from all around, and clus-
tered in the middle of the common. A crockery
crate, filled with straw, and stuck all around with
pickets from some slothful man's dilapidated fence,
was set on fire. The cheerful blaze, ascending,
lighted up the fronts of the houses on the edge of
the common, and shed a lurid glare on the tall
elms which stood tremulously in the midnight air.
The flames warmed the boys, and revived their
spirits, somewhat damped by cold and lack of sleep.
Hurrah for the Fourth of July shouted Bill
Watson, a burly little chap, the right fielder, and
better known as Chunky." Then every other
fellow cried Hurrah for the Fourth of July "
And it was felt that the fun had begun.
Amidst great enthusiasm, Pat Adams now fired
off his gun. It was only a single-barreled one, to
be sure, but it spoke well for itself. Pat's name
was James Patterson Adams, but he was known,
for short, as Pat Adams, and, when the boys were not
in much of a hurry, he was called Jim.,Pt Adams,
to distinguish him from another Jim whose name
was not Adams. When the bangof Pat's gun rent
the air, there was a sound of opening windows, and
the boys knew that angry looks were directed


0


188o.


563






[MAY,


THE AIRPORT NINE.


toward them from some of the houses roundabout.
There was a wild hurrah when Sam Black, assisted
by Billy Hetherington, staggered up to the fire
with the better pait of a tar-barrel, which they had
hidden away some days before. There is no aris-
tocracy among real boys, and it was an evidence of
this truth that Sam Black, who was the only negro
boy in Fairport, was a crony of Billy Hetherington,
whose father was the county judge, and had been
to Congress. If any boy had a right to be stuck
up," it was Billy, whose family held themselves
very high in Fairport. But Billy never once
thought of such a thing. If he had, his mates
would have cut him at once, and he would have
found himself alone in the village of boys. It was
curious that the only black boy in the town should
be Black by name. So Sam, who was a great
favorite with his comrades, was usually called
" Blackie," a term which carried with it no idea
of contempt. Blackie was the best fellow of the
boys of that generation, and, moreover, he knew
more of the habits of the birds, beasts, fish, and all
manner of living wild things, than most of the
naturalists who write thick books about the animal
kingdom. The times and seasons when birds
come and go, and when they mate, and where they
build their nests, as well as the secret lairs of the
small game of the woods and fields, were all as
familiar to Blackie as if he had been born in the
wilderness, and not in a house on stilts at the har-
bor's edge.
"Three cheers for the left fielder cried Jo
Murch, as Blackie, his face shining with satisfac-
tion and pride, helped Billy Hetherington heave
the tar-barrel on the blazing pile: And now,
boys, for the bell," he added, for it was already
past twelve, one of the boys having reconnoitered,
through the kitchen window of a neighboring
house, to ascertain the time of night.
Ned Martin looked around on the little group of
lads in his superior way, and said:
Which of you fellows is the best on shinning a
lightning-rod?" There was a great laugh when
John Hale stoutly answered: I am! for John
was so big and lubberly that he was never called
anything but the "lob." In Fairport, the'long-
shoremen call any craft which is clumsy and
unwieldy "lob-sided," meaning, perhaps, that it is
lop-sided, a phrase which may-be found in the dic-
tionaries. If one but stuck out a fist at Johnny
Hale he fell over. And when the schoolmaster
tried to get him up on the tall stool where it was
the custom for boys to be hoisted for punishment,
the master and Johnny invariably came down in a
heap together on the floor, the "lob" was so very
clumsy and so very heavy. Nevertheless, the "lob,"
for all his awkwardness, was the champion catcher


in Fairport, and the envy of the White Bears, the
rival club from the south end pf town.
The "lob" was rejected as the champion climber,
however, and little Sam Murch, Jo's brother, was
selected for the feat of shinning up the lightning-
rod of the church.
As an aid, in case of need, the volunteered ser-
vices of Blackie were also promptly accepted, for
the Fairport Nine never did anything that was not
"ship-shape and Bristol fashion," or, otherwise,
according to rule arid discipline.


41






I--- -



















--
"z











.- .


--7

---

"SAM HAD REACHED THE EDGE OF THE PROJECTING EAVES."

Old Major Boffin's house stood so near the meet-
ing-house that one could toss a biscuit from the
roof of one to the other; and the Major's grand-
son, Ike, was a member of the party, though not
of the famous Nine." This was lucky; and it was
also lucky that the roof of the Major's house was
nearly flat, and that it had at each of the angles of
said roof a big, square chimney, so big that two or
three boys might hide behind one of them without


564






THE AIRPORT NINE.


fear of detection. And when it was remembered
that the roof of the Major's house could be reached
by a lightning-rod, much easier of ascent than that
on the meeting-house, it was evident that fortune
favored the brave when it was necessary for the
brave to ring the bell on the night before the
Fourth of July. The testy old Major, calmly
sleeping in his bed, could not have dreamed how
much his property was contributing to the celebra-
tion of the glorious Fourth, when, in addition to
all this, Ned Martin, carefully stripping the sheets,
shirts and pillow-cases from the clothes-line in the
Major's garden, took the line and making one end
fast to the ankle of little Murch, gave him a hoist,
and told him to "go it" up the lightning-rod of
the meeting-house.
The projection of the eaves of the building set
the rod out from the side of it a great way, and,
as the rod was jointed in two or three places, it
swayed fearfully while Sam laboriously shinned up
it. Now and again, he would be flung round and
round by the swinging rod, as he passed over the
clanking joints, the clatter of which threatened to
bring the choleric Major down upon them at any
moment.
Hold fast, little one," hoarsely whispered Cap-
tain Sam from below, for Sam,. with his usual
facility for taking command, had now assumed the
direction of things. Hold fast, or Blackie will
be on your heels." And Blackie, dancing up and
down with impatience, was ready to make a spring
at the rod when little Murch should be out of his
way.
Bully for Sam," half shouted Ned Martin, for
the little fellow had reached the edge of the far-
projecting eaves, and was now struggling to get
over the most difficult part. The boys below held
their breath, for it was a perilous place. The light-
ning-rod, after turning up the edge of the shingles,
was fastened to the roof by strong staples which
held it firmly down and afforded almost no hold to
which even a boy's small and hook-like fingers
could cling. But little Sam was clear grit," as
his brother proudly remarked in a suppressed
whisper, and while the silent spectators below all
looked up, with their hearts in their mouths, he
turned the edge of the eaves and went picking
his way up the roof, hand over hand. It was now
Blackie's turn to go up, but Captain Sam interfered,
and declared that if both of the best climbers went
up into the meeting-house belfry, there would be
nobody to shin up to the roof of the Major's house
and carry the rope from the bell, when it was made
fast. Half-a-dozen boys volunteered to go up the
Major's lightning-rod, but Ike Boffin agreed to
" hook in by the back door, steal up the stairs to
the roof, and take care of the rope when there.


So, then, you are to have all the fun of ringing
the bell, are you?" demanded Captain Sam, sar-
castically.
"Well," said Ike, you pick out four other
fellows, and I will undertake to get them up on
our roof, if they will promise to be mighty still
about it."
Accordingly, Captain Sam, Ned Martin, Hi
Hatch and Chunky were chosen to go up on the
Major's roof, guided by Ike, who, with a quaking
heart, opened the back door and let in these mid-
night conspirators. No cat could have climbed
the stairs more softly than the five boys, Ike at the
head. Barefoot and breathless, they stole by the
door of the sacred chamber where the old Major,
snoring manfully, was sleeping in happy uncon-
sciousness of what was going on around him.
Drawing a long breath, the five boys found them-
selves out on the roof at last. To their great
delight and relief, they saw little Murch just shin-
ning up the part of the rod which led from the
roof to the belfry, not a very difficult job, in com-
parison with that which he had just finished. In
a moment more he was in the belfry, and pausing
on the balustrade which decorated the rim, he gave
a noiseless cheer, dropped over to the inner side,
and made fast to the clapper of the bell the end of
the line which he had brought up with him. Ned
Martin now dropped down from the roof of the
Major's house one end of a mackerel line which he
had with him. To this the boys below fastened
the end of the line from the bell-clapper, and it
was drawn up to Captain Sam, who took it up be-
hind his chimney with great joy. The boys on the
ground now scattered to all parts of the common,
at a whispered command from Captain Sam, and
then the big bell struck a peal of mighty strokes,
pulled by the sinewy hand of Sam. The night
air quivered with the blows on the bell. Old Fitts'
pigeons, affrighted by the midnight booming of
the bell, flew out in crowds, scaring Sam Murch
as they dashed, in his face. The brave little lad
swung himself over the balustrade, and, sliding
down the roof in a hurry, was soon on the long
and swaying rod below, and on firm ground once
more, and then safe among his comrades.
Those pesky boys," sighed Grandmother Bof-
fin, as she turned uneasily in her sleep, but awake
enough to know what was the cause of the hor-
rible din which rent the air. The Major got out
of bed, and, putting his head out of the window,
addressed the darkness, commanding all in sound
of his voice to disperse and go home, or take the
consequences. But the old Major never forgot
that he had been a boy once himself, although
that was a great many years ago; and when he-
went back to bed, smiling grimly to himself as the-


188o.]


565.





[MAY,


THE AIRPORT NINE.


bell answered his warning with a yet louder peal,
he said: Well, mother, boys will be boys, you
know. There's no law ag'in ringing the meeting-
house bell on the night before the Fourth." The
Major, although a hot-tempered man, remembered
that he had fought in the last war "-that of 1812
-and something was due, he thought, to the day
we celebrate.
A sudden idea struck the good grandmother.
She crept out of bed, stole to the bedroom of her
grandson, passed her hand over the vacant bed,
and then going back to her chamber-window, cried
into the air, as the Major had done, "You, Ike,
wherever you are, don't you dare to come into the
house for your breakfast!" Ike, who was now
taking his turn at the clothes-line, laughed to him-
self. He remembered that he had a share in a
boiled ham, a basket of apples and a paper of
crackers, stowed away in Hatch's barn, under the
hay.
Suddenly there was an alarm of Fitts Fitts! "
from the boys stationed on the court-house steps,
from which post they could see all the way down
Howe's lane, up which the old sexton must come
to the defense of his precious bell. Fortunately
for the boys, Fitts never stirred out of doors, no
matter how light the night, without his lantern.
And the rays from that familiar lantern, "like a
lightning-bug," as Billy Hetherington declared,
now bobbed along the ground as Fitts climbed the
hilly lane.
Warned in time, not a boy was in sight when
the old sexton, grumbling to himself, reached the
top of the hill and went across the bottom of the
,common toward the meeting-house. The bell
continued to ring, much to the delight of the boys
hidden behind the chimneys and stowed away in
various nooks and corners below. With infinite
trouble, Old Fitts got the door open, and with
many a hard word for the boys, toiled up the long
stairs which led to the belfry. Now, then, Ned,
give her a good one," whispered Captain Sam, as
the old sexton's lantern, shining through the bel-
fry windows, showed that he was almost up to the
bell, and, sure enough, as Fitts put his head out
of the scuttle which opened to the deck of the
belfry, a tremendous and audacious peal boomed
directly over his head.
The old man walked all around the big bell.
Not a boy was to be seen. The rope, he knew,
was safe in his own house, and there was no sign
of anything by which the bell could be rung. The
light line leading to the roof of the Boffin house
was too small to be noticed as it lay on the slanting
deck of the belfry. The boys chuckled, to them-
-selves as they watched the puzzled old man walking
around the bell, again and again peering over the


balustrade, as if to see if some small boy were
circling around in the air with the scared pigeons
which silently flew about their master's head. It
was very queer, so it was.
Just then, the "lob," who was never known to
stand up when he could fall down, slipped on the
roof behind the Boffin chimney that hid him. He
might have slid off to the ground below if he had
not put out his hand to save himself by grabbing
at the boy next to him, which happened to be Sam,
who tried to shake the "lob" from him. It was in
vain, and the two boys came down in a heap be-
hind the chimney, Sam pulling the rope with him.
As he fell, the bell, of course, was given another
peal, and the rope in the belfry flew up before the
astonished eyes of the old sexton. Fitts stooped,
cut the line, and, shaking his fist in the direction
of the Major's house, cried, I've stopped your
fun this time, you young varmints;" and so he
had. When he had carefully locked the scuttle of
the belfry, descended the stairs and gone home,
hislight disappearing in the distance, the fourboys
on the roof, somewhat crestfallen, silently slid down
the Major's lightning-rod, and made their way up
to the bonfire. The lob" was overwhelmed with
ridicule for his share in the failure of the bell-ring-
ing feat. And he wanted to shin up the meeting-
house lightning-rod! said Captain Sam, derisively.
Blackie, however, soon found a way to remedy
the mischief. He went up the lightning-rod again
with the agility of a cat, spliced the line, then, dis-
daining to go up through the Major's house, he
shinned up its lightning-rod and speedily had
the bell a-ringing merrily. Meantime, the boys
about the bonfire were doing their best to celebrate
the night by firing the few pieces of small-arms
which they had; and their fire-crackers were ex-
ploded-sparingly, however, as it was borne in
mind that the Fourth was yet to come, and more
noise would be needed for the day.
Hiram Hatch, returning from a visit to the back
of Major Boffin's house to encourage Blackie, who
was pulling away lustily at the bell-rope, cast his
eyes on the fire, and, to his horror, spied the re-
mains of the leaching-tub which he knew ought
to be standing on his father's barn floor. "Where
did that come from?" he demanded. Nobody
knew, but Chunky guessed that Jo Murch and
George Bridges had thrown it on the fire.
That came out of my father's barn," said Hi,
stoutly, "and the fellow that took it is a mean
sneak, and I don't care who he is."
I don't see that it is any meaner to take that
leaching-tub out of Deacon Hatch's barn than it
is to steal old Boffin's clothes-line, or Judge Nel-
son's chicken-coop, so there," said Jo Murch.
As the Judge's coop had been ravished by


566






THE AIRPORT NINE.


Hiram, he felt condemned ; but he replied, hotly,
that there was a big difference between taking an
old chicken-coop, only fit for :,.l.i _., anyhow,
and stealing a leaching-tub out of a man's barn.
Then, suddenly remembering the mysterious noises
which he had heard while he was trying to go to
sleep, he exclaimed, with his small fist before Jo
Murch's nose, And you came in there and stole
that tub while we were in the hay-loft. I heard
you."
Yes, and mighty scared you were, too," Jo
replied, with an unpleasant sneer.
There were symptoms of a fight, when one of
the sentries on the court-house steps shouted
"Fitts! Fitts !" Then all the boys, in their anxiety
for the bell, scattered to points about the meet-
ing-house from which they could see the fate of
Blackie, who, perceiving the lantern of the old
sexton coming, improved the time by giving the
bell as many and as vigorous strokes as possible.
Grumbling and groaning to himself, the sexton
slowly climbed the belfry stairs once more, and
was soon on the upper deck. Why, oh why,
did n't I nail down that scuttle ?" groaned little
Blackie, as, from behind his chimney, he saw the
old man emerge upon the belfry deck. Blackie
consoled himself with the reflection that he would
do this the next time the coast was clear. But he
was doomed to disappointment. Fitts, as soon as
he had cut the line, for the second time, gave it a
strong pull, and a sudden pull, and poor Blackie,
not for a moment dreaming what was going to
happen, was jerked out from behind the chimney,
and, still holding on, across the scuttle, which had
been left open.
Aha It 's you, is it ; you, you black limb, is
it ?" cried Old Fitts, exultingly, as the boy came
dimly into sight from behind the chimney. Major
Boffin There 's a burglar on your roof! shouted
the old man, as he tugged at the line which Blackie
sturdily refused to let go.
Shame Shame I Old Fitts!" shrieked several
of the boys below, in their concealment. He 's
no burglar, and you know it."
In the midst of the racket, Major Boffin, with a
grim smile on his face, put his head out of the
window, and, after shouting "Thieves! Thieves "
at the top of his voice, fired into the sky a horse-
pistol which he kept loaded for the entertainment
of the midnight cats that sometimes disturbed
his slumbers. A profound silence followed this
volley. Even Old Fitts was quiet in his belfry;
and Blackie, taking advantage of the lull, dropped
the line which he had held, and softly crept down
the roof, clutched the lightning-rod, slid to the
ground, and made off in the darkness.
If I catch those pesky boys around here again


to-night," said the angry sexton, I'1 put a load
of buckshot into some of 'em."
Never you fear," answered the Major, you
will never catch them. Sooner catch a lot of
weasels." And the old man shut down his window
with a bang.
Fitts descended into the little loft below the
belfry, and, though the boys waited for his appear-
ance beneath, his lantern did not shed its beams
again on the outside of the meeting-house.
He 's camping in the steeple cried the boys,
in alarm. And so he was. Determined to stop
the ringing of the bell, and afraid to leave his post
of duty, the old man lay down on the floor of the
loft, secure in the knowledge that no enemy could
scale the roof without awakening him. The boys
gathered in a knot below, examined the ground
and confessed that, for once, they were circum-
vented.
It was growing toward morning. The east was
pale with the first streaks of dawn. It had been a
tiresome night. The great base-ball match was
coming off on that day. The bell had been
rung. The Nine went to bed, and Fairport was
quiet at last.
CHAPTER II.
THE GREAT MATCH.
BETWEEN the White Bears and the Fairport
Nine there was, in the opinion of the older people,
a great gulf fixed. The White Bears were, for the
most part, the sons of fishermen, 'longshoremen,
and men who, in the expressive language of the
place, "did chores" about town. This was the
social gulf which separated the famous Nine and
the White Bears. Then the boys who called
themselves White Bears were noted for their rough
mischief. If an unfortunate cow was found with
her tail cut off, it was the work of a White Bear.
And when the old revolutionary cannon which had
stood for years, with its breech in the ground, an
upright landmark, on the corner of Main street,
was dug up and pitched off the end of Adams's
wharf, everybody knew that the White Bears had
been out on an errand of malicious mischief. The
boys of Fairport, who were represented by the
famous Nine, were not goody-goody youngsters;
indeed, some of the older folks thought that they
ought to be a great deal better than they were, but
they were never accused of being ruffianly or cruel,
or destructive ; and all these traits were justly set
down to the credit of the White Bears. Besides
all this, the White Bears lived in the scattered and
dingy groups of houses at the south end of the vil-
lage; and this, until they took for themselves the
name by which they were better known, gave them
the title of the Southenders. To be a Southender


.880.1


567






THE AIRPORT NINE.


was to be a rough fellow, with small respect for
law, order, or the rights of others.
The White Bears, with all their muscle, were not
very much better in the base-ball field than the
Fairport Nine. They were trained, many of them,
in the cod-fishing fleet, which used to sail to the
Grand Banks, before the fishing business went into
the hands of our Canadian neighbors. And, ex-
posed as they all were to the hard life and rough
usage of those who pick up a scanty living on the
coast of Maine, they were as tough and rugged as
the polar bear, whose name they took in a spirit
of boasting and bravado. Sam Booden was their
captain, and he was the roughest and the toughest
of the gang. Sam had regularly walloped" the
village schoolmaster, as fast as a new one came to
town; and, as he was as regularly turned out of
school, his education was none of the best. He
never staid in school any longer than to have his
first chance at the master, and, as boys of his class
were not often at home during the summer, his
acquaintance with the inside of a school-house was
very limited.
But Sam was at home long enough to make a
tolerable base-ball player, and at the third base he
was perhaps the very best in all Fairport. Jake
Coombs was the pitcher of the White Bears, and a
first-rate pitcher he was. He had been two voyages
as cook on a mackereling schooner, and was prob-
ably the most quarrelsome boy in Fairport. Usu-
ally, he had a black eye, the mark of one of his
latest fights. Of course, all of his fingers were
more or less out of shape. But that is the proper
badge of an accomplished base-ball player. Eph
Weeks was the catcher of the White Bears, and
Joe Patchen was the first base. George Bridges,
their second base, was the decentest boy of the
gang. He was in full fellowship with the Fairport
Nine, and, although he was sometimes obliged to
do dirty work at hog-killing time (for his father
was the town butcher) about the houses of some of
the more favored boys of the place, he was a crony
and a companion to many of the favorite Nine.
As I have said, Sam Booden was the third base,
as well as captain of the White Bears. Eph Mullett
was their short stop, and as Eph had an unfortunate
defect in his speech which made his words seem to
come from his nose rather than his mouth, he was
usually known as "Nosey" among the boys of
Fairport. In summer time he wore a parti-colored
tunic, or cooler, from which circumstance he was
sometimes called The Turkey," or Turk," as
it suited the fancy of his dear friends and associates.
With Dan Morey in the left field, Joe Fitts in
center field, and Peletiah Snelgro in right field,
the Nine of the White Bears is complete.
Whenever Sam Perkins met one of the White


Bears he was wont to say, as if addressing the uni-
verse:
The Fairport Nine is the Nine that I belong
to, and I am not ashamed to own it either."
No White Bear ever dared to take that up, as
the saying is, and as Sam never had the luck to
encounter more than one of the Bears when he was
alone, he was always safe in his defiance. But
Sam was deeply mortified when his Nine played
what he called a scrub game with the White Bears,
and were consequently defeated with great dis-
grace. For this defeat, Sam always blamed Jo
Murch, who was playing center field that day, and
not at first base where he usually belonged. On
that momentous occasion, he made a muff of a
high fly ball, far out in the left center, in the
eighth inning, which allowed the White Bears to
score three runs. To tell the whole truth, the
White Bears were considered the worst enemies of
the Fairports on the base-ball field, as they had
defeated all the other clubs in the small towns
roundabout, and had held the championship for
the last two seasons, but were hard-pressed for
this particular season by the White Bears. This
was the reason why this game on the Fourth of
July was so important. It was to decide the cham-
pionship of Fairport, and of North Fairport, Pen-
obscot, and Riversville.
Now, every boy knows why Sam Perkins was
anxious when he tumbled out of bed on Fourth of
July morning, at the call of his mother. Had he
been left to himself, he would have slept until
noon. A boy who has got up at midnight, and
has gone to bed again at daylight, might be rea-
sonably sleepy at so early an hour as seven o'clock.
But hard work was to be done.
The White Bears had beaten the Fairports in
the latest, or second, game for championship, it is
true, but the first game of the series was won by
the Fairports by a score of eight to one, a tremen-
dous victory, to be sure. Now had come the
momentous day when the third and decisive game
was to be played. And when Sam looked anx-
iously at the sky, he was troubled to notice that a
dark cloud hung low down in the West, just over
the old fort in which the match was to be played.
"Just our luck," he grumbled, when he met
his trusty lieutenant, Ned Martin, on the common,
where he was hunting around in the ashes of last
-;,lIi', fire for a lost jack-knife. Just our luck !
I 'll bet it rains to-day and spoils all our fun. Our
fellows are all in first-rate shape. No sprained
legs, no broken fingers, and here it comes up to
rain, as sure as a gun. It 's too bad, so it is."
Oh, never mind," said the-more cheerful Ned.
"If it rains, the Bears will be as badly off as we
are ; that 's one comfort; wont they ? "


568


[MAY,






THE AIRPORT NINE.


"But we want to have this thing over with,"
replied Sam. The Bears have been pokihg
that last game at us ever since they beat us. But
they sha'n't have a chance to crow over us after to-
day, as sure as my name is Perkins," he added,
more hopefully. I '11 play my position at short
stop for all it is worth, you just be sure of that
now, Neddy, my boy," and Captain Sam Perkins
stretched himself, with a tremendous yawn, wishing
that he had had a good night's rest by way of
preparation for the day's work.
Fairport is built on the sunny side of a oenin-


built by the British troops in the war of the
Revolution.
Once there was a brick barrack in the fort, and in
one corner is still shown the entrance to a dungeon
dug into the thick mass of earth, stone and tim-
ber which forms the fort. The barrack has
disappeared, and the inclosed space is as smooth
and level as a ball-ground should be. Laying off
the field against one of the angles of the earth-
work, they had a grassy field under foot, while the
slopes of the fort furnished seating-places for the
spectators, as well as a screen for the catcher. It


THE GREAT MATCH.


sula which juts out into Penobscot Bay. To the
north and west, the land slopes sharply down to a
little cove, known to the youth of the village
as "the Back Cove." To the east and south, the
land falls off more gradually to the harbor's edge,
and on the gently falling slope is nestled the
old town shaded with elms, horse-chestnuts
and maples.
On the ridge which forms the backbone of the
promontory is the old fort, a huge, high earth-
work, inclosing about three acres of ground, and
VOL. VII.-38.


is not likely that the British commander, General
McLean, when he built this fort, in 1779, and
called it Fort George, after his royal master,
George III., of England, ever thought what a serv-
ice he was doing for the boys of Fairport. But it
is true that no base-ball field in this or any
other country can be compared with that which the
British army left for generations of boys at Fairport.
And when, on the memorable Fourth of July, the
Fairport Nine met the White Bears for the fight
for the championship, the old fort presented a


I


569


X880.1






THE AIRPORT NINE.


brilliant sight. On the grassy slopes of the ram-
parts, commanding a good view of the field, were
all the nice girls of the village, some of whom had
concealed about them the gay rosettes, made of the
Nine's cherry-colored ribbon, with which each
purposed to decorate a certain favorite player, in
case all went well with the Nine of Fairport. The
boys who ivere not of the Nine, but who hoped
to be, some day, were scattered about among the
bright groups on the slopes, or crowded together
just outside of the limits of the field. It was a
pretty sight and a momentous day.
Captain Samuel Perkins placed his men thus:
Pitcher-Ned Martin; catcher-the lob"; first
base-Jo Murch; second base-Hi Hatch; third
base-Pat Adams; short stop-Sam Perkins;
left field-Samuel Black, colored member, and
better known as Blackie" ; center field-Billy
Hetherington; right field-Bill Watson, other-
wise known as Chunky." The captain surveyed
his team with mingled pride and anxiety, looked
at the sky, which was dark with clouds, and then
calmly tossed up the copper with the Captain of
the White Bears, Samuel Booden, to decide which
should go first to the bat. The toss was won by
the proud captain of the Fairport Nine, who yelled,
" We '1 take the field "
They always thought it an advantage to go first to
the field, and as the White Bears took up the bat,
a smile of satisfaction ran over the faces of the
illustrious Nine of Fairport. The Bears did not
find it very easy to hit the skillful pitching of Ned
Martin; and Semantha Sellers, sitting on the grassy
rampart beside Mary Ann Martin, said, with a
chuckle of delight, "I s'pose Pel Snelgro thinks
he can play ball, but just see him whang the air
every time Ned fires that ball. Ned has got the
curve down fine, has n't he, Mary.Ann ? "
Do hush and look at that catch," for at that
moment Peletiah Snelgro sent a hot liner to Pat
Adams, at third base. Pat made an extraordinary
catch, taking it with one hand, and with a light
spring in the air, which won him a round of ap-
plause from the girls sitting on the slopes of the
fort; and even the boy spectators, outside of the
field, murmured their approbation. Pat took off
his cap and bowed low to the ladies in reply to this
compliment. Jake Coombs was the next striker
for the Bears, and he sent a foul tip behind the
bat which struck the lob," catcher for the Fair-
ports, square on the nose. The "lob doubled
himself up in pain, and a perceptible shudder ran
through the sympathizing crowd of girls on the
rampart. What a shame cried Phcebe Noyes,
who had a tender heart, and admired very much
the rosy face and blue eyes of the "lob." But
John stoutly declared that it was "'nothing,"


although the blood dropped freely from his in-
flamed pug-nose. Cold water was brought from
the spring, half of the boys of Fairport volunteer-
ing to sop the "lob's" face, and run a cold iron
spoon down his back, or hold his nose at the
bridge, or do any of those things which any bright
boy knows are sovereign remedies for the nose-
bleed.
This diversion over, Captain Sam Booden went
to the bat. "Now look out for squalls, you stuck-
up Fairport Niners," said Nance Grindle, with
withering sarcasm. Nance was a Southender, and
was second girl" in the family of the Hether-
ingtons, and cordially hated all aristocrats. Sure
enough, Booden sent a daisy-cutter toward Hi
Hatch, at second base, but Hi picked it up finely,
and so Captain Sam Booden retired at first base,
and the White Bears also retired without a score.
"A goose egg! A goose egg!" shouted the
friends of the Fairport Nine. Captain Sam
Perkins, too glad to speak, walked over to Hiram
and wrung his hand in silence. It was now the
first inning of the Fairports, and they did some
very heavy batting, and scored five runs before
their side was put out, three of them being home
runs. But there were no special features of the
game, and the girl-champions of the Fairports
were not sorry when their friends were out once
more. They do so much better in the field,"
they said, innocently.
But the Fairport Nine had a decided lead, and
the chances were that they would have kept it to
the end and have won the game, but, just as the
White Bears were going to their second inning,.
great drops of rain began to fall, and the storm
which Captain Sam had been id. ,.i., all day was.
upon them. The girls put up their parasols and
umbrellas, and expressed their intention to stay
and see the game through, rain or shine. But the
umpire, Mr. Sylvanus Tilden, of North Fairport,
called the game, which was accordingly postponed
until next day. Just our luck grumbled Cap-
tain Sam, as the Nine went down the' hill into
town. It was a dismal ending of a Fourth which
had begun so noisily, with the pealing of bells, the-
firing of guns, and the flaming of bonfires, proph-
esied by one of the revolutionary forefathers.
"Just our luck!" grumbled Sam, next day,
when he saw that the sky was cloudless, and that
the silvery waters of the bay reflected Nautilus
Island, Gray's Head and Hainey's Point as if in a
looking-glass. Some days it rains, and then,
again, some days it don't rain. Yesterday, just
as we were making ready to wallop the White
Bears, and had a lead of 5 to o, it ups and rains,
and so puts a stop to the game. To-day not a wet
cloud shows its face in the sky. You look over the:


[MAY,


570







THE AIRPORT NINE.


fort and you can see the whole of Brigadier's Island
reflected in Penobscot Bay, just as if it was on the
bottom of a new tin pan. Before this game is
over, boys, you '11 wish a long shower would come
-and save the feelings of the bully Nine of Fairport;
now you see."
Sam is always croaking," said Blackie, who
was always looking on the bright side of things, as
if his spirit was much lighter than his face. But
when Sam lost the toss and the White Bears took
the field and their opponents went to the bat first,
things did look a little gloomy for the Fairports.
And when their first inning was finished without
scoring one run to their credit, even the calm and
stolid lob felt a sinking at the heart.
It's too bad," said pretty Alice Martin, shak-
ing her yellow curls with emphasis. "It's too bad
for anything, and if I was Sam Perkins I 'd give that
Coombs boy an awful whipping. Every time one
of the White Bears makes a base hit, he just grins
like a chessy-cat, and makes up a face as if to say
that he did it all. He's perfectly horrid "
But serious business was now in hand, for the
Bears went to the bat in high spirits. It was the
first time that they, or any other nine, had pre-
vented the Fairports from making one run. They
had a right to feel pleased. "Mightily tickled,"
Sarah Judkins confidentially said they were, when
she leaned over and whispered her opinion into
Phoebe Noyes's sun-bonnet.
Before the Fairports went to their places, Cap-
tain Sam went among his forces and warned them
that the White Bears were playing at their very
best that day, and that if they would win it must
be with hard work, cool heads, and, above all, no
nonsense. The game went on rapidly to the close
of the eighth inning, and, up to that time, the
Fairport Nine had not been able to make a single
run, and their score stood exactly where it did at
the close of their first inning of the day before.
The White Bears, however, crept up, making a
run at a time, until, when their opponents went to
the bat on the eighth, and the Fairports' last, in-
ning, the score stood 5 to 5. Sam Perkins was the
first striker, and while he was selecting his bat, his
comrades noticed, with some surprise, that the
White Bears had quietly changed their pitcher.
The redoubtable Eph Mullett, otherwise "Nosey,"
and otherwise "Turkey," went to the place of
pitcher, and Jake Coombs took the'left field, while
Dan Morey went to short stop, where "Nosey"
had been playing. This move did not disconcert
Sam in the least. He was one of the strongest
hitters of his Nine, and was almost always safe.
There was not a sound. Even the chattering
young ladies on the slopes of the rampart were as'
quiet as so many mice: They watched the game


with the most intense interest, and, as for their
friends in the Nine, they did not dare to speak,
and hardly to breathe, for fear they might lose
some point in the style of the new pitcher. Then
came the umpire's question: Where will you
have the ball? "
Knee high," was Sam's steady reply, which
could be heard by every person inside of the fort.
Eph Mullett delivered the ball; it went like light-
ning. Sam did not even make a motion to strike
at it, and his fellows, who were waiting their turn
on the bench near by, looked at each other in
speechless amazement. But the gallant Captain hit
the next ball and sent it whizzing along the ground,
and made the first base. Cheery little Blackie
was next at the bat. "See the darky scoffed
Nance Grindle. Thinks he is as good as a white
man, don't he ? So stuck-up along with Billy Heth-
erington! Sakes alive I What 's he at, anyhow I "
For Blackie made two attempts to hit the ball de-
livered by Mullett, and in vain.
Meantime, however, Sam Perkins had stolen to
his second base, and Blackie, with a mighty effort,
gave him his third base by a masterly stroke that
sent the ball to center field. Now it was Ned Mar-
tin's turn to distinguish himself. With two players
on the bases, it required very delicate playing.
Ned played cautiously until he got a ball that
almost everybody thought would bring home the
two men on the bases. Alas it went straight into
the hands of the first base, who returned it with
surprising dexterity to the catcher at home base,
just in time to put out Sam Perkins, by a hair's-
breadth.
A double play for the White Bears," two out
on the side of the "Fairports," and not a run
scored,-this prospect was not bright for the
famous Nine. Fleet-footed Blackie was at second
base, however, and Billy Hetherington, next to
Sam Perkins the best striker of the Fairport
Nine, was the next man at the bat. Billy was
tall and lank, for his years, and was sometimes
called Crane," by way of joke. But he had an
unerring eye, and was as cool as a cucumber under
any and all circumstances. Billy struck the first
ball, and Blackie was off like a deer for third base.
But, contrary to all expectations, Billy's ball was a
foul, and, fortunately, as it turned out, went away
out of the catcher's reach, among the thistles which
grew at the base of the bastion. And so Blackie
had time to resume his position at second base
once more. Billy's next hit was a high-flyer, and
as his comrades saw the center fielder move back
to get in range of the descending ball, their hearts
almost stood still. They saw the ball go right
through his hands, and then they breathed a long
sigh of relief which was echoed among the very


188o.]


571






THE AIRPORT NINE.


nicest girls on the side of the fort. Sam Perkins
treated the spectators to a few steps of his favorite
war-dance.
But the joy of the Fairports was short-lived.
The "lob," their next batsman, sent a foul ball
straight up over his head, and it fell plumb into
the hands of the catcher. This ended the last
inning of the Fairport Nine, and they had not
made one run that day. Their only hope now was
to skunk the White Bears, who were coming
to the bat with their faces aglow with satisfaction
and anticipated triumph. This, at least, might
prolong the game, which could result in a tie.
When the Fairports went to the field in the
ninth inning, it was evident that their spirits were
a little drooping.
I don't see our way out of this pickle," said
Billy Hetherington to his sable chum, as they
passed each other on their way to their respective
stations.
Keep a stiff upper lip, Billy," replied his hope-
ful crony. "I 've seen sicker cats than this get
well."
Billy thought to himself that, though a cat may
have nine lives, the Fairport Nine did not have
more than one chance in a thousand to beat the
White Bears in this match; and then all would be
over.
The sympathies of the spectators were unmis-
takably with the Fairports, and when Pat Adams,
at third base, took a hot ball straight from Joe
Patchen's bat, with one hand, almost precisely
as he had done the day before, there was a breezy
ripple of applause all along the side of the fort
where the girls were the thickest in a group. Dan
Morey was their next striker. He sent a ball
straight over to-little Blackie, at left field. Blackie
was watching the ball as it described a beautiful
ascending curve in the air, but his quick eye had
also marked the tall thistles on the top of the fort
nodding in the wind, which was now rising some-
what. He took a position a little to the right of
the place where everybody thought the ball should
fall. Captain Sam, at short stop, saw this and
ground his teeth with rage, and inwardly groaned
"'he '11 make a muff!" But the colored member of
the Nine knew what he was about. The wind took
the ball a little to the north; it then descended
with a rush, and dropped directly into his tawny
hands; and good Blackie held it like a vise, doub-
ling himself over in his anxiety to grip it. A
scream of delight went up from the rampart where
the girls waved their sun-bonnets with joy. The
Fairports winked encouragingly at each other,
and Captain Sam muttered an apology to Blackie,
as he was in the habit of t 1Il... : to himself. The
White Bears had not made a run yet, and they


had two players out. The prospect was decidedly
better.
George Bridges was their next batsman, and he
was always to be feared. As he stood in position,
wearing his usual pleasant expression, but with a
look of dogged determination on his brown face,
everybody knew that he meant business," as the
Fairports were saying to themselves. If he once
got a good blow at that ball, the chances were
that it would go at a tremendous rate somewhere.
Silently, Captain Sam motioned his fielders to fall
back. The precaution was well taken. Bridges
had a square hit at the ball, and sent it away over
the head of Billy Hetherington at center field.
Before he could get it and throw it to Ned Martin,
the pitcher, George Bridges had made his third
base. Joe Fitts was the next man to stand up
before the pitcher of the Fairports, and to him the
White Bears now looked for success. He must hit
the ball so as to bring George home, and if he
could only do this, the game was won. It was a
thrilling crisis. A hush fell on the field. The flower-
bed of sun-bonnets and parasols on the rampart
and the side of the fort ceased its fluttering in
the wind and sunshine. Even the boy friends of the
White Bears did not speak, although they showed
by their looks that they had confidence in Joe's
ability to do something great. And then Jemima
Pegg, a long-legged girl who worked in the lobster-
packing factory, stood up and waved her bonnet,
crying out, Go it, Joe Now 's yer chance! "
Joe struck at the ball twice, but missed it. At
the third attempt, however, he was more fortunate.
He sent it whizzing through the air over to Pat
Adams, at third base. Joe went for the first base
as fast as his legs could carry him. George Bridges
did the same in the direction of the home base,
and, to the confusion and grief of the Fairports
and their fair friends, Pat Adams muffed that ball.
" Oh, Patsy! Patsy! How could you do so?"
groaned Captain Sam. For that muff virtually
lost the game, and the crisis was past. But, before
the White Bears' third player was put out, the
score-keepers had to allow them a home run for
Jake Coombs, which, with Joe's one, made the
score five to eight in favor of the White Bears,
and the next striker was put out by a foul.
The great match was over, and pretty Alice
Martin, rising from her seat on the turf, said:
"It's too awfully mean for anything for those
Southenders to get the pennant. But it was just
splendid." Alice was always a little mixed in her
ideas, but she meant that the game was splendid.
And so thought and said a great many of the less
personally interested spectators, as they went down
to the village. But so did not think Captain Sam
when he saw the umpire hand the pennant over to


[MAY,


572






x88o.1 THE JAPANESE FAN. 573

the triumphant Booden, of the White Bears. That rage, but bold little Blackie called after the depart-
hero took it with a grin, and, waving the little strip ing victors-" You had to work for it harder than
of red and white bunting over his head, bawled- you ever did before the mast So, now! "
"It's not so big as the 'William and Sally's' Hush up, Blackie," said Billy Hetherington.
burgee, boys, but it's our 'n." "They 've won the championship, and the great
Sam and his mates turned away in speechless match is over."
(To be continued.)



*-.,-------,








i~I ; f'
.









-






... 's with t il,


rfor the d o Japanese fan
"'Il i I I- i '' I .i S m an,




L : ,,,; Ir i a Chinaman's queue,
;-.' ilion and blue;
iii-. i... in large herds,
.. I ed b ird s,
'V" \.... i-i I l..es with their bodies askew.

,, i .... '. ih the noble intent,
i i,. i .:Li current event;

.''"""' re flowers,
'i -- :.. i-, .ist the eighth of a cent.

IAi"
...., "'4 .. i'- ,- -:::.-._. 1 ^ '


1:,,'^ - ...
#-J4- ___f~'-






[MAY,


SALLY'S SOLDIER.


SALLY'S SOLDIER.
(A Decoration,-day Sltoy.)

BY CHRISTINE CHAPLIN BRUSH.


,. "

-;..- ^ .: >




S,'-. '' '. Two 1
.-.. were going sw
S. i Squire Blossi
S 1 yard, taking a short cut h
from school. It was lat
J/ the May afternoon.
S.' school had been out s
time, and the little girls
-.. hurrying along and tal
so busily that they did
notice even the old w
I sheep who pushed his
at them through the bar
.' his usual petting.
,- One of the children
S ^' "I; listening with a sympathy
S face to the other, who wo
'- pink sun-bonnet and a b
S checked apron.
Of course, you d
mind," said the little girl
the pink bonnet; "of co
S you don't, for your uncle
one arm shot off, and d
1 and you can always say
Swas in the war and was a
'" brave, and shot off eve:
many guns, and waved :1
and drummed awful h


little
iftly
tom's
ome
e in
The
ome
were
king
not
'hite
nose
s for

was
zing
rre a
lue-

on't
with
urse
had
lied,
he
awful
r so

ard,


and slashed his sword about, and cut things all
up."
"Oh, did he do all that ? asked little Mary,
quite elated. I did n't know it; who told you ?"
Oh, of course he did," said Sally; all the men
were very brave that went from our town. Mother
says father was too sick to go to the war, and I
feel awful ashamed about it. My uncle went, but
he never lost one of his fingers, even, and never
got shot one bit; so it's just the same as if he 'd
never been "
I should think you'd be glad he did n't get
hurt," said little Mary, who could not follow Sally
in her patriotic flight. Perhaps your uncle
fired and drummed just as hard as mine, and per-


haps he shot the enemy so fast that nobody got a
chance at him."
Well, I 'm real mad and ashamed, too," replied
Sally. Tuesday is Decoration-day, and there
is n't one grave that 's any relation to me in all
that grave-yard, and there isn't a name on that
monument in Martinsville that belongs to our
folks "
But, when Sally took her seat in school the next
morning, her face wore a cheerful and determined
air; and at recess, when the little boys and girls
were discussing the glories of Decoration-day, she
joined in the conversation as freely as if she had
owned all the soldiers in town.
"I'm going to walk to Martinsville and hear
the speeches, and see the monument trimmed
up," said a big boy. Seven of those names be-
long to ourvillage. I wish I had been a soldier."
So do I cried Sally. "Why, when I hear
the crackers on Fourth of July, I feel awful pa-
triotic! Oh, I wish I had lived in the Revolution !
When I study about those brave women I just
wish I had been one of them. I 'd have kept a
little gun in my kitchen, and if I 'd seen a red-coat
coming, I 'd have popped him off."
The boys laughed at Sally's warlike spirit, but
the girls were rather startled.
Why, Sally Barnes," said little Mary, I never
knew you hated folks so, before; why, I 'd have
taken a red-coat in, and hid him in our garret, up
behind the old spinning-wheel and the chests. I'd
have tied up his shot places and taken his dinner
to him. I would n't be so unkind to anybody."
I guess you would n't have done that if he 'd
been shooting your father, would you ?" asked
Sally, to bring the matter home.
Oh, but I did n't mean one that had shot
father," said little Mary, in dismay.
"They are going to decorate the graves in our
village first," said the big boy who had spoken
before. There's only seven, you know, and then
they 'll all go over to Martinsville ; you girls wont,
of course, you can't walk three miles and back."
I can," said Sally, "and I 'm going to, too."
Why, Sally cried one of the big girls, you
need n't be so interested; you were n't born when
the war closed, and none of your relations died in
it, and if they had they'd never know whether
you tramped over that hot, sandy road or not.
Whose grave are you going to weep over?"


574






SALLY'S SOLDIER.


Sally was silent.
"I guess she's going to weep over my uncle's,"
said little Mary, anxious to share her blessing with
her friend. My uncle used to live next door to
her house, you know."
I don't want to borrow anybody's relation's
grave," said Sally, for I've got one of my own,
now. It never did belong to anybody, and I've
adopted it; so I 've got a right to go to Martinsville,
if I want to "
The big boys and girls burst out laughing.
" Whose grave is it, Sally? they asked.
"It's John Anderson's," said the little girl, "audit
does n't belong to any of you, for I asked my father,
and he said it did n't. He was a Swede, and
worked for the doctor, and went to the war, and
came back sick and died, and did n't belong in this
town. So I said I 'd have him for my soldier, and
my father says I can."
Everything Sally took hold of was done thor-
oughly. "I 'd rather have one hour of Sally's
wprk than three of Katy's," her mother used to
say.
The family, when she told them of "her grave,"
only laughed; they were used to Sally's ways."
Early on Decoration-day morning, Sally went to
the grave-yard, which was lying fresh and green in
the morning sun. It was a place where one might
like to rest after a sad and weary life. It lay on a
little rise of ground, and was surrounded by a low
stone wall, tinted by lichens in green and gold.
It was uncared for, except as Nature tended it.
The blackberry-vines ran at will over the low
stones, the bees hummed in the long grasses,
which waved, and blossomed, and died, untouched
by the scythe.
Violets bloomed thickly in the spring-time, and
the daisies bent and swayed in the sweet summer
air. Far off lay the blue sea. Quiet was always
there, and rest belonged to the place.
It looked very bright on this May morning; and
Sally, in her pink sun-bonnet, stepped resolutely
along until she came to her grave." She cut the
grass carefully.from it with a large pair of scissors,
and heaped the mound with flowers.
When the little procession turned into the yard,
the people were all surprised to see the grave of
the poor Swede, who had lived for so short a time
among them, carefully trimmed and decorated.
After the simple ceremony was over, the people
separated, most of them returning to their homes.
Sally, however, followed the men and boys who
were going to Martinsville.
The minister and his wife rode in a buggy.
When they saw Sally trudging along in the hot
sun, they offered to tuck her in between them, and
she was very glad to accept the invitation.


Why were you taking this long walk, my
dear? asked Mr. Raymond.
I want to hear the speeches, and go to Decora-
tion-day, and see the monuments. Besides," said
Sally, I want to hear what they are going to say
about John Anderson."
Who is John Anderson ?" asked the minister.
"Do you mean Major Anderson of Sumter?"
SI don't know, sir,-I mean a man who died in
the war, for us. He was a Swede, and need n't
have gone to our war at all, only he was so polite,"
Sally replied.
I remember the poor fellow, now; he came
here as a sailor on one of our ships, and stayed-
worked on the doctor's farm. He was an honest,
hard-working man; he little thought he had come
among us only to find a grave."
Why did n't they have him buried near his
relations ? asked Sally.
"No one knew, I suppose, where his friends
lived."
And perhaps," said Sally, his mother is look-
ing out for him all the time, and thinks he has for-
gotten her," and tears came into her large gray
eyes.
Sally told Mrs. Raymond about adopting the
grave, and the lady was much amused and
touched.
When they came into Martinsville, the scene was
quite exciting to the little girl.
The streets were filled with people, and, on the
little square where the monument stood, the band
was playing slow and mournful music.
Sally's heart thrilled with the sound.
Mr. Raymond tied his horse to a tree near the
square, and then they walked on to the green,"
to be within hearing of the speakers.
Sally listened attentively, as one after another
named the brave fellows who had given their lives
for their country.
When Squire Barnard rose, Sally never took her
eyes from him; he was from iI i and would
speak of the soldiers who belonged there.
He named and praised one and another, briefly,
and then sat down; he never mentioned John An-
derson Sally's cheeks grew red,-she pulled Mr.
F..I ... i '-, sleeve.
I did n't think Mr. Barnard was so unkind and
mean," she whispered; "he never said one single
word about John Anderson; and I 't1 never play
with his little girl again When I 'm big enough,
I '11 carve a head-stone for my soldier."
A gentleman now spoke to Mr. Raymond, andl
the two walked off together toward the platform.
The minister rose to say a few words.
He said he wanted to tell a little story. So he
told them of Sally's adopted grave, and spoke very


r88o.]


575







576


SALLY'S SOLDIER.


[MAY,


tend .1 .I. C i, i. '. -r .i ... ir.. i ,,I ,1 :. i !,i [,, ,,,.:, .Ii
th e I,: -I r 1 I I i l. I 1 .,. l I- I






peo :l .. I .h ,



I.O P I 1 11% 1 1-Il

sto ..o r .
Anc ..
TS i h .. .i .. I, .. ,
th e i l ,.I .i ... .. ..
pasE .1 ... .
am ci. I. ., i .


I, ,, tl .r ... i I ..... -' : e to
y C r,.. .1 e, to,.

.I ...... ft h old *avy
I oar


SALLY ON THE PLATFORM. Sally smiled and quite forgot her-


of voice: I '11 put some flowers on your monument the next time we ride over."
Then everybody clapped their hands, and stamped and laughed; and Sally was helped down and
took her seat again by Mrs. Raymond.







SALLY'S SOLDIER.


The Squire said the speakers ought to ride home
together; so he put Sally into his carriage, which
was lined with blue cloth, and had a nice stuffed
back, and springs in the seat.
Sally's mother was quite surprised to see her
little girl getting out of Squire Barnard's carriage.
She had worried about her all day, for she never
dreamed that she really meant to go all the way to
Martinsville.
Sally told the family all about her day, and how
she had been on the platform; and she showed the
money; and her father, when he had heard all,
said he should never worry about that girl,-she
always fell feet down t
The story of Sally's patriotic zeal soon spread
around the firesides of the county, and several
gentlemen and ladies, who were not present at
the celebration, sent her money to help in buying
the head-stone.
When she had thirty dollars, Sally began to
grow impatient to have the work done. So she
dressed herself very neatly one afternoon, and
called on Mrs. Squire Barnard. The lady smiled
kindly on her, and said:
Oh, this is the little girl who made the speech
at Martinsville I am glad to see you again, dear.
Can I do anything for you ?"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Sally; "I came to ask
you if you would take your nice carriage some day
and go shopping with Mrs. Raymond and me, for
a head-stone for my soldier. I don't want to buy
just any one that happens to be left over at the
Center."
Mrs. Barnard said she was going on Monday to
the county town, where there were two or three
marble-yards, and that she would be very happy
to take Mrs. Raymond and Sally with her in the
carriage.
That was a proud and happy day when the little
girl climbed into the fine carriage and took her
seat opposite the two ladies.
But when they reached the marble-yard, Sally
was very much disappointed not to find a stone
all ready and waiting for her, with drums and
fifes, and swords and guns carved on it.
Mrs. Raymond said that, as there was no more
war where her good soldier had gone, some em-
blem of peace would be better.
Sally then turned her attention to the doves and
lambs she saw on head-stones, but, 'after some
effort, the ladies diverted her from these; and
soon they all agreed on a beautiful white marble
scroll.
The price of this was thirty-five dollars; but
when the owner heard the story of Sally's soldier,
he said he would sell it for thirty.


I;




a.I`-----


If ever you should visit Sally's town, you would
see a well-kept grave in the church-yard, with a
scroll at its head, on which is carved in bold relief:

"John Anderson,
A Native of Sweden,
Aged 28 Years."

And beneath this a grateful acknowledgment of
the sacrifice the young stranger had made for union,
justice and liberty among us.


880.]


577


--
--

..






A. D. 1695.


J. -


THIS little old man lived all alone,
And he was a man of sorrow;
For, if the weather was fair to-day,
He was sure 't would rain to-morrow.






A. D. 1695.

BY MRS. D. G. BACON.


ALMOST all boys and girls who read this paper
will have either read or studied at school some
history of England, and will remember that while
they can recall the names of King John, King
Stephen, Kings Edward, Henry, and many others,
and can think, too, of queens who have reigned
alone, it is only in one reign that the names of
both king and queen are always mentioned to-
gether-namely, those of William and Mary.
Now, after the good queen Mary's death, and
while William was reigning sadly alone, there was
something done of great importance in the king-
dom,-not always told in small histories,-which
may be of interest to our young readers, and well
worth remembering. This event of importance
was a new method of coining money. Before this
time, for centuries, money had been shaped in
just one rude way. The metal, after being pre-
pared of a certain thickness, was marked and cut
by hand with shears into pieces ; these were then


hammered as nearly round as possible, the pieces
having around them no rim nor inscription such
as we are used to seeing on coined money now.
Made in this unskillful way, the coins in use could
not be of exactly the same weight and value, and
it was found to be very easy to clip off little por-
tions of them, without very much reducing their
value or changing their appearance. These clip-
pings, although very small, when ... I.:.-I.:.I from
many pieces and melted together, were found to
be of much value. But in time, the clipped coins,
i, i C .:, i..::.; through the hands of many dishonest
persons, who each took a little paring, became
so much lessened in size that a shilling was in
weight worth no more than a sixpence or even
less, and all pieces became reduced in the same
proportion.
Some boy interested in trading may ask, If a
clipped shilling passed for a shilling, and would
buy a shilling's worth of any thing, what difference


578


[MAY,


I
I


; I






i88o.]


A. D.


did it make ?" It made this difference: Shillings
and crowns being of all sizes, those who labored
for money demanded to be paid in good-sized
pieces, and there were continual wranglings and
disputings between the laborer and his employer,
and between buyer and seller, as to what sort of
money should be received in payment. These
arguments took much time, gave rise to ill feeling,
and sometimes ended in fights and bloodshed.
Then, if money were to be sent to France or any
foreign country, where its value must be decided
according to its weight, fifty pounds, face value, in
clipped English money would be found to be
worth, perhaps, no more than twenty pounds.
To remedy this very unhappy state of affairs, it
was thought best that the government should have
new money coined, hoping that it would in a short
time drive out the old altogether. So, in 1558, a mill
was set up in the Tower, by which means the new
pieces were shaped of uniform size, each with a
raised rim and cross-fluted edge, so that it could
not be clipped without showing the cut. Coin from
the new mill was called "milled" money, and people
liked it, for it was the best then coined in Europe.
The horse in the Tower went round and round
(for machinery then was not much like ours), and
heaps of bright new pieces were .. .,.n. II.i 11. being
made. However, very little of the new coinage
was in circulation, and dishonest persons still grew
rich from the clippings of the old coins, and the
same quarreling and dissatisfaction existed. The
new money was either hoarded or sent out of the
country,-the poor coins still passed from hand to
hand in trade.
Then very severe laws were made to punish
those who should be found guilty of mutilating the
money. The offense was punished with as much
severity as counterfeiting. Some persons proved
to have clipped money were hanged, and one
woman, we are told, was burned alive. Still, the
business was so profitable that even these severe
laws could not check it, and the wisest men in the
kingdom tried to find some better plan.
This was what was done. Good men thought
that the government ought to make good the loss
on the clipped money to each person who should
have it in his possession. If a poor man should
have saved a hundred pounds, they said, and a law
were to be passed that each individual must give
up his money to be melted down and coined again,
this poor man would receive for his one hundred
perhaps only forty or fifty pounds in exchange. So


1695. 579

it was resolved to call in after a certain day all the
old money and pay its full face value in exchange.
To do this, twelve hundred thousand pounds
would be needed, and the next question was how
the government could raise so large a sum.
It was decided at last to put a new tax upon the
people. The inmates of every house were re-
quired to pay a certain tax upon each window in
the house. This.was called the window-tax.
Then many furnaces were employed to melt the
old money and make it into ingots. These were
made into milled money in the Tower, and after a
certain day in the year A. D. 1695, none of the
old clipped money could be legally used. Finally,
then, this great evil, which had lasted a very long
time, was cured.




j-
\- .- ,











J,, T7-I






The two double pictures represent a clipped coin
and a milled coin, both faces of each. The clipped
coin is an unusually well-preserved specimen, and
is a very rare English shilling, minted in 1549,
during the reign of Edward VI. Besides showing
the marks of clippings, it is of interest as being an
example of the first appearance of a date upon
English money. The milled coin is an English
shilling of the reign of Charles II., and was minted
in 1663, two years before the Great Plague. The
third picture represents a coin lying flat, and
shows the milling, or c i l--.l: 1,;... upon the edge.
The specimens from which these pictures were
taken were kindly loaned to ST. NICHOLAS by
Gaston L. Feuardent, Esquire, of New York.


- ---.=.


r







580


TOPSYTURVY had lived
S' all his life in a
great old fashioned
house, not far from
the sea. He was only


eight years old, and
he had big, musing
blue eyes, and airy yel-
low hair, that seemed
to hold the flash of a
buttercup in it. His
father and mother
were both very fond
of him, and very kind
to him; but often,
when the neighbors


admired his lovely looks, both parents would
shake their heads sadly, and say : Oh, yes, but
he is always getting everything wrong."
And he was. Yet in his lessons and his daily
life he made mistakes, not from stupidity, but
from absent-mindedness. He was a dreamer.
Everybody, who knew him well, agreed that if he
would only stop falling asleep and dreaming with
his eyes wide open, he would be a clever child,
and a shining credit to those whom his grotesque
errors now sorely tried. As might be supposed,
in a little boy of his temperament, he was very
fond of fairy-tales. He was never tired of reading
about the marvels which they narrated, and he
knew a number of them by heart. These he
would recite to himself while he walked along the
pleasant pastoral roads. They were an immense
comfort to poor Topsyturvy, these quaint, fan-
tastic stories. Just to murmur them aloud as he
did would soothe him wonderfully after the tor-
ments of school-hours. I suppose I like them,"
he would say, "because the people who are in
them are all queer, just as I am. Only, I wish
that I could manage to find a few more books of
them."
At first, Topsyturvy's parents encouraged his
love of fairy-tales ; there seemed no harm in such
a taste, and it was certainly better than the lawless
pranks of most boys. But by degrees the good
people began to suspect that this fanciful reading
only made their son more self-forgetful and pecul-
iar. At length an awful edict went forth. Topsy-
turvy was to read no more fairy-tales. The little
book-case in a corner of the sitting-room, that
held his favorites, was mercilessly locked. Poor


~i). ft~


-

1

l s 'I
" ,11 .''


Topsyturvy gazed at the gilded scroll-work on
some of their backs till his eyes grew dim. He
felt as if his heart had been taken from his breast
and shut behind those cruel glass panes. It 's
no comfort to look at them," he said, woefully,
one afternoon; they only make me feel all the
more that I 've lost them."
He went out and rambled along a road that
swept away past the homestead in which he lived,
frequented by few vehicles, and leading straight
toward the sea. It was now September, and the
margins of the road were gay with jungles of blos-
soming golden-rod, or richly purple with the
feathery blooms of asters. The afternoon light
gave a kind of silvery-blue glitter to the sky, and
the fresh Autumn breeze had the least hint of win-
ter in its soft keenness. A creeper wound about
the trunk of a somber cedar had begun to burn
with vivid scarlet tints. Already the calm splen-
dor of the sea, behind black overhanging crags,
had broken upon Topsyturvy's sight. He loved
the sea dearly. The melodies of its incoming or
outgoing tides had always been fascinatingly sweet
to him. Not far away there was a sort of rocky
bluff, with a cavernous hole in it, whose edges the
waters had draped years ago in beaded lichens.
From this rough alcove, when the tide was low,
Topsyturvy liked to watch the spacious grandeur
of the sea, while seated on a certain sun-dried
ledge. He clambered up into the ledge now, and
let his eyes roam across the silent, measureless
expanse. A few sails gleamed here and there,
faint as the white wings of far-away gulls. Pres-
ently he turned his sight toward the interior of the
cave, leaning his bushy gold head against the cool,
firm wall of rock. He was longing for one of the
fairy-tale books. He had so often read them
before, just in this very spot The place seemed
thronged with the people whom he loved, and
whose lives and fortunes he had read about with
such affectionate wonderment. A strange idea
entered his sad, distressed brain.
"They say that I get everything wrong," he
sighed, wistfully I hope I have n't
made any mistakes about the stories I
hope I understood those all right "
It seemed to him only a very little while after-
ward that the interior of the cave grew full of a
pale, doubtful light, as though the earliest glimmer
of morning were filling it. His eyes were still
turned away from the sea, but he did not change


TOPSYTURVY'S DREAM.



TOPSYTURVY'S DREAM.

BY EDGAR FAWCETT.


[MAY,






TOPSYTURV


his posture. He was not at all frightened. It
occurred to him that he somehow ought to be, and
yet he was not.
He could no longer recognize the spot where he
had seated himself. The swarthy sea-weeds had
all faded away. He seemed surrounded with a
calm, whitish mist, such as he had seen clothe the
shore on foggy days, when the sun had touched all
the fleecy, vaporous masses with a sweet, dull glory.
By and by the mist parted very slowly, and he per-
ceived several obscure, confused forms. For some
time he could make none of them out at all dis-
tinctly. But by degrees one of them became very
plain to him.
It was a beautiful, princely figure, clad in a
doublet of velvet that glistened with gems. It had
on a cap from which curved a long white feather,
that partly shadowed the handsome, delicate face.
Oh, dear," murmured Topsyturvy, admir-
ingly, how splendid you are Who can you be ?"
The vision gave a light, musical laugh. I?"
he said. "Oh, I am the person whom you have
always thought Cinderella's prince. But you were
very much mistaken. You are forever getting
things wrong, you know. I marry a poor, ignorant
little creature who constantly sat among the cinders!
Not a bit of it I "
Another laugh, in a very feminine voice, sounded
immediately afterward. A beautiful lady, in a bro-
caded dress and with powdered hair rolled high off
her blooming face, stood at the Prince's side. But
her lip had a proud curl, and in her white, jeweled
neck was the haughty arch that we see in a sailing
swan's. Somehow, Topsyturvy knew this lady
the moment that he looked upon her. He felt
sure that she was one of Cinderella's wicked sisters.
"Yes," cried the brilliant creature, suddenly
spreading out an immense fan, that was almost the
size of a peacock's tail, and painted over with pink
cherubs firing roses at one another-' oh, yes,
everybody knows that Topsyturvy is all the time
getting things wrong. The slipper fitted me per-
fectly. See there!"
And she held out the daintiest and neatest of feet,
on which sparkled a small glass slipper.
Topsyturvy felt like uttering a shout of aston-
ishment; perhaps he would have done so if a very
sad voice, and a very sad face as well, had not both
quickly claimed his attention. And now Cinderella
herself stood before him, with a wan,' tired look,
and dark, mournful eyes. She had silky flaxen
hair, but this, like her wretched, ragged garments,
bore thick powdery traces of the cinders among
which she had dwelt so long.
"That lady is quite right," murmured Cin-
derella, looking straight at Topsyturvy with her
deep, melancholy eyes. You are always getting


7880. ]


Y 'S DREAM. 581


things wrong, remember. My sisters just went to
the ball without me, and that was the end of it. I
staid at home and sat in the cinders, as I shall no
doubt have to do until my other sister gets married-
which I hope will be soon. Nobody knows who
dropped the glass slipper on the ball-room floor.
It is said that there were several foreign princesses
there, that night, with whom our Prince danced,
but he was certainly more attentive to my sister
than to anybody else. And the next morning,
when he appeared with the slipper, he knew per-
fectly well that it would fit her; he had seen her
foot before; he recollected how pretty and small
it was."
The low, dreary voice in which she spoke, died
slowly away. And then Cinderella's form died
away with it, and that of the Prince and the fine,
cruel sister likewise. Once more it seemed to
Topsyturvy that the cave was filled with mist.
But though the visions had vanished, the impres-
sion left on their observer was still a strong one.
"I am so sorry for poor Cinderella," lamented
Topsyturvy. Perhaps I may be always getting
things wrong, but it would have been a great deal
better, I am very sure, if the whole affair had been
managed my way instead of hers "
Just as he finished these words, it seemed to him
that some strange power lifted him gently upon
his feet, and that he was borne along for quite a
distance without walking a step. And now, as if
magically conjured up from nowhere, a high,
dense, thorny hedge rose before him. Its prickly
sharpness, mingled with the close-growing leafage,
looked picturesque enough, but it nevertheless
made Topsyturvy think, with a little shiver, what a
very hard time any one would have who might
attempt to scramble through it. There was a
door, however, or a vine-girt opening that resem-
bled one, and beside this sat a queer, sleepy old
man, in a dull, wine-colored jerkin and a faded
taffetas cap. He looked up drowsily as Topsy-
turvy drew near., He wore his gray beard cut in
a peaked form, and the toes of his shoes came to
a sharp point, and fell a little sideways because of
their limp length.
Oh," he said, seeing who had arrived, it 's
only you."
And he lowered his old eyes toward the ground
again.
"Were you expecting anybody else?" asked
Topsyturvy.
The old man looked up once more. This time
he gave his bony shoulders an impatient shrug.
Oh, I suppose the Prince will come, one of
these days. They say that he will. It 's been
over five hundred years now since he was expected.
My father watched here before me, and my grand-







TOPSYTURVY S DREAM.


father, and my grandfather's father, and so back
for many generations."
A light began to break in upon Topsyturvy.
Oh," he said, softly, this door leads to- "
The Sleeping Palace," said the old man. Then
he looked at Topsyturvy a little keenly out of his
dreamy eyes. "I dare say you thought it had
waked up long ago. But then, you know, you
are always getting things wrong."
Yes," said Topsyturvy, ruefully, "I am sorry
to say that I am."
"You can go in, if you please," said the old
man, staring down at his pointed shoes, "and see
for yourself."
Topsyturvy felt himself gently borne through
the leafy aperture. He stood presently in what
seemed to him the court-yard of a magnificent
marble palace. But the marble was all sallow and
stained with time, and faint films of velvety moss
clung to it here and there in greenish patches.
An immense flight of steps led upward to a vast
colonnaded balcony, and beyond this rose a front
of spacious windows, all overhung by thick masses
of sculpture, in which he saw griffins' heads jut-
ting forth in bold relief. Across the balcony
hung great embroidered banners of silk and satin,
that must have been gorgeous in their day, but
were now tarnished and tattered. Along the
stately stairs lay numerous forms of pages and
vassals, some brawny, grown men, and some slen-
der, pretty boys, with curly golden heads. But
each form wore the listless apathy of deep slumber,
and every face among them had its eyes tightly
shut. Topsyturvy had never before been in so
still a place. The silence was perfectly breathless.
High grass had grown through the crevices of the
court-yard flags, and from the big carved urns that
flanked the majestic portico, rank growths. of
untended flowers trailed in tangled festoons,
making the air heavy with their perfumes. One
of the little pages was half smothered by a profu-
sion of ivy that had pushed itself through the stony
balustrade, and wrapped him in its dark luxuri-
ance.
Half of his own accord, and half because some
hidden force still urged him, Topsyturvy mounted
the lordly steps. He trod very softly, as though
afraid to rouse the sleepers. But none of them
stirred. At length he passed along the broad bal-
cony, and entered a superb archway that led through
an enormoushall. Here, at various intervals apart,
sat men in rusty armor, but their helmeted heads
had fallen sideways, and though their mighty hands
still grasped tall halberds in slanting positions, all
were fast asleep. Presently Topsyturvy found
himself in a new apartment, and now his blue eyes
opened very wide indeed with wonder.


The room was hung with many mouldering
tapestries, where gleamed dim shapes of huntsmen,
with leaping hounds at their sides, and sometimes
a lady on horseback, with a hawk fluttering upward
from her wrist. But in the chamber itself was a
raised throne, and here, on a huge chair that seemed
made of dragons, all twisted together, sat a ven-
erable figure, with a high golden crown and a
flowing white beard that swept nearly to the floor.
This was too plainly the King, but a full, mellow
snore, regular as the strokes of a clock, told that
he, too, was sleeping. At his side stood a page,
with drooped head, also asleep, but holding in one
hand a burnished flagon, and in the other a goblet.
The King had put forth his own hand, as if in act
to receive the goblet, but his outstretched fingers
lay drooped upon the gilded frame-work of the
chair. All about him stood lords and retainers,
but upon each had sunk the same benumbing spell.
After this, Topsyturvy wandered about the whole
palace, seeing many strange sights. In one room
he found a gray-haired lady, whose moth-eaten
robe clung round her with brittle dryness. She
tended a skein toward a young girl who had been
arrested by sleep, like herself, while in act of
unwinding it. But across the skein was woven a
heavy brown cobweb, in which even the crafty
spiders that bad wrought it did not stir. Then
again he found a dog, in act to bark at an elderly
dame, who held a silver-mounted staff in air; but
the dog and the old woman were alike mute in
slumber. '* And so on, through many
separate chambers, till at last, in a remote portion
of the palace, Topsyturvy reached the end of his
curious journey.
Here the light came through a large oriel window,
and struck full upon a couch, whose coverlet had
once been some costly purple fabric, sown with stars
and lilies; but although this rare cloth was now
dull and raveled, she whose form it overspread
almost dazzled you with her loveliness. Slumber
had given a damask tint to her cheeks, like that
which a peach will wear on the side that has been
turned nearest to the sun; and her lips, half un-
closed, had the curl of rose-petals. Her dark hair
fell in plenteous folds about the pillow, for though a
jeweled net had once confined it, the meshes had
rotted apart and loosened their glossy burden.
This was the Sleeping Beauty. Topsyturvy knew
her the moment his gaze fell upon her.
Grouped about the couch of the Princess were
many slumbering damsels, some who stood upright,
others who reclined in languid attitudes. A few
had lutes in their laps, but the lute-strings had
quite shriveled away. One lady had her white
throat stretched out like a bird when it sings, and
her mouth plainly parted; her amber tresses


582


[MAY,






8sso.] TOPSYTURV


and pure, saint-like face seemed to tell you how
sweet the song might have been, hundreds of years
ago! Another damsel had been reading from
some sort of volume with fretted golden clasps,
but all the leaves of the book had fallen to dust;
only a single shred of one yet lingered beneath
her sightless look. Topsyturvy leaned over her
shoulder, and glanced down at it; only one line
remained there, and this somehow seemed like a
line of poetry; but the language was now forgotten,
even by the wisest men !
As Topsyturvy gazed on the sleeping Princess,
a pitiful murmur left him. I may be always
getting things wrong," he said, touching a lock of
her dark, coiling hair, "but it surely would have
been better if the Prince had come and waked you
up. What if I kiss her!" he whispered to him-
self; and then he bent forward and pressed his
lips against the Princess's cheek. He felt his heart
beat frightenedly all the while. He would have
liked to put his arms about her neck, just as he did
every night and morning with his dear mother;
only she looked too grand and queenly for that.
But Topsyturvy was not the Prince whose kiss
must awake her. And so she still slept on. And
then, soon afterward, the damsels' forms grew quite
dim, and the whole chamber faded away. A pale
mist once more enveloped Topsyturvy; the en-
chanted palace and all its inmates had mysteriously
fled!
And now, while Topsyturvy marveled over all
the strange and sad things that he had seen, a
tower rose up out of the mist, built of gray, rugged
stone; and on the top of this tower stood a pale
lady, who wrung her hands, and wailed in heart-
broken tones.
"Dear, dear!" said Topsyturvy; "you seem
in great trouble. Who are you?"
Then the lady turned her tearful look upon him.


' S DREAM. 583

"Don't you know me?" she moaned. "I am
the sister of poor Fatima. I-- "
Oh, I know. You 're Sister Anne," said
Topsyturvy.
Now, of all his favorite stories, Topsyturvy had
always loved "Bluebeard" the best. It was his
special treasure-the apple of his eye. He felt his
cheeks flushing hotly as an unhappy thought
struck him.
Yes," answered the lady, still wringing her
hands, I am Sister Anne; true enough."
Then why are you so sorrowful?" asked Top-
syturvy. I thought-- "
Oh," interrupted the lady, petulantly, you
are always getting things wrong, you know. Do
you remember why my poor sister sent me to the
roof of this tower ?"
Yes, indeed It was to watch for the brothers
who came and saved her from Bluebeard."
There was a little silence. The big tears were
running down Sister Anne's cheeks.
You 're always getting things wrong, Topsy-
turvy," she began, in a broken voice.
But here a wild, mournful cry cut short her
further words.
Oh, don't tell me that the brothers did n't
come at all! exclaimed Topsyturvy, despair-
ingly. "I know I get everything wrong, but
don't tell me I 've made that mistake Don't tell
me that poor, sweet Fatima has been killed "
But the loudness of Topsyturvy's own cry
awoke him. And there he sat, alone in the cave,
above the tawny, glistening sea-weeds, while the
risen tide plashed against the crags below, and the
darkening water had turned rosy with twilight.
It had all proved a dream, and Topsyturvy
sighed a great sigh of relief to find it so. There
was such comfort in thinking that for once, after
all, he had not been getting things wrong "






584


ANCIENT HISTORY.




ANCIENT HISTORY.

BY MARGARET VANDEGRIFT.

(A rose story in rhyme.)


But when I happened into the nursery,
Both were reclining in regal state,
By a table furnished with two bananas,
And a vast amount of gilt-paper plate.

Johnny was looking anxiously upward,
But May, apparently quite at ease,
Announced, from a shawl and two sofa-pillows,
"We are Mr. and Mrs. Damocles !"

And I never, certainly, had encountered
Such a sword as hung above Johnny's head;
It was six feet long, and swayed, suspended
From a cap-pin, by a single thread.


I must admit the horror was lessened-
Though it seems too bad their romance to spoil-
By the fact that the pasteboard showed in places,
Through its lavish covering of tin-foil!

Johnny and May were dressed in togas,
Each composed of a single sheet,
Draped in a highly classic manner,
And pasteboard sandals adorned their feet.

I took my work to a distant window,
And began to sew at a rapid rate,
And the revelers, not at all embarrassed,
Went on with the banquet in all their state.


IMAY,






ANCIENT HISTORY.


"My dear, will you have a piece of peacock?"
Said Mrs. Damocles, tenderly.
His Highness, groaning deeply, answered:
There 's no use offering peacock to me!

"Do you think I can ever enjoy my dinner,
When that old sword may drop any minute ?"
Said Mrs. D., in her gentlest accents:
"Do take some pudding, there 's raisins in it !"

And Damocles made heroic answer,
Well, give me some peacock, and pudding,
and all!
I s'pose I might as well eat my dinner,
If that old thing is going to fall "


', y
,,
' l ... .


I
.


A light breeze wandered in at the window,
And swayed the sword on its single thread;
The treacherous cap-pin left the ceiling,
And down came the sword on Damocles' head.

I laughed at myself for being startled,
And May gave a horrified little squeak,
But Damocles, as became his station,
And heroic soul, was first to speak.

He eyed the sword with contempt and anger,
Then-" I don't even know where the old
thing hit!
I'll not play Damocles any longer-
Why, it did n't hurt me a single bit!"


I-


2


- ,A


VOL. VII.--39.


585


i.-n
71 ~~
_F~ L~
LI-
I
I-~


I- -


'I
~I


--3


;4'
'







586 HOW TO CARE FOR THE SICK. IMAY,


HOW TO CARE FOR THE SICK.

BY SUSAN ANNA BROWN.


,.. v almost all the civilized
S world, the name of Flor-
/ ence Nightingale is spoken
S/ with love and admira-
-' tion. Any suggestions
upon the care of the
sick, cannot begin better
than by her story, which
Always brings to every
,one who hears it a thrill
S |of longing to do some-
thing great and good for suffer-
i ing humanity.
i Many girls think that all they
\ lack is the opportunity, and if
they only had the chance, they
could win the love and rever-
ence of thousands of their fellow-beings just as
she did; but no one can start out of an aimless, use-
less life into a heroic one. The beginning of the path
of glory is narrow and difficult, and often very dull.
Florence Nightingale had been nursing among
the poor tenants on her father's estate, for many
years before the Crimean war began; so that she
was all ready for the opportunity when it came.
When, in that fearful time, soldiers were dying by
thousands for want of proper care, England, at
last, was aroused to a sense of her own responsi-
bility in the matter, and it was decided to send
nurses. Mr. Herbert, the Secretary of War, who
had charge of the expedition, knew that he could
never send a band of women to that foreign land
to care for the soldiers, unless some one woman
could be found who understood the whole matter,
and could take charge of the entire company.
There was no time to train a person for this posi-
tion. She must be found, all ready for the work.
He remembered that, in Derbyshire, there was a
woman who had been working among the poor in
their own homes, and had visited hospitals and
studied the art of nursing for years. Who could
doubt that she would undertake the great charge
of carrying help and comfort to the dying soldiers?
He wrote and asked her, and his letter crossed, on
its way, one from her,'offering her services as an
army nurse. So this company of brave women
started, with Miss Nightingale at their head. When
they reached the seat of war, they found such sick-
ness and suffering as they had never dreamed of
finding. No Sanitary Commission had poured
in boxes of supplies, as in our late war. The hos-


pitals were dirty and comfortless, and, even when
food was abundant, the men often suffered, because
there was no one whose business it was to see that
it was given to them. An order had to pass
through so many different officers, that the men
might die before they could get what they needed.
On one occasion, soon after the nurses arrived,
the sick were suffering for the want of something
which was locked up among the stores from Eng-
land. No one could get it until the proper officer
came. I must have it now," said Miss Nightin-
gale. "You cannot, until you have a proper per-
mit," said the guard. She said no more, but
simply called some Turks to help her, and went
straight to the building where the stores were kept.
" Knock the door down," said this resolute woman;
and down went the door. She took what was
needed, and went back to the hospital. After
that, the officers knew that though most scru-
pulous in obeying necessary orders, she was not
one who would sit still and let men die, while wait-
ing until a regular form had been gone through.
You all know the story of how the soldiers loved
her, "the lady with the lamp," and how they
turned to kiss her shadow, as it fell upon their pil-
lows; and how, when she came back to England,
she met the gratitude of the nation; the Queen
herself sending her a beautiful locket, blazing with
gems, with Blessed are the merciful upon it,
and underneath, the word "Crimea." Her coun-
trymen desired to offer her some testimonial of
their gratitude, and a fund was raised for that pur-
pose, but Florence Nightingale declined any per-
sonal reward for her labors, and the money was
devoted to the founding of an institution for
training nurses.
One heroine is sure to make others. When our
war came, hundreds of women, remembering what
she had done, were ready to give their time and
strength to the work of nursing the sick and
wounded. Day and night they toiled, and it was
not all bathing aching heads, nor reading aloud and
writing letters for the soldiers; there were dread-
ful wounds to be dressed, and tiresome rubbings,
and wearisome watching. But they learned that
even the most distasteful details may be endured,
if one only has unselfishness and courage. It is to
be hoped that none of the readers of ST. NICHO-
LAS will ever be needed as army nurses; but it is
almost certain that every one of the girls, and many
of the boys, will have to care for the sick .many


586


[MAY,


HOW TO CARE FOR THE SICK.






HOW TO CARE FOR THE SICK.


times in the course of their lives, either in their
own homes or in the homes of others; and unless
they know how to do it in the best and easiest way,
for the best is always really the easiest, they may
do more harm than good. The best intentions
and kindliest feelings, in order to be successful,
must-be intelligently applied. Experience is, of
course, the best teacher, but it is not pleasant for
sick people to be experimented upon, and mistakes
or omissions in such matters are sometimes fatal;
so perhaps a few simple directions may be the next
best thing to experience.
In the first place, remember that, in cases of
severe illness, a friend's life may depend upon care
and watchfulness on your part, and that the duties
of the sick room are made up of a great variety of
little things, which may seem trivial, but which are
really very important.
Keep the air of the room fresh and pure always,
and do not try to do it by opening the door now
and then. It was one of Miss Nightingale's rules,
that "windows-are made to be open-doors are
made to be shut." Pure air must come from out-
side. Do not be afraid to open the window unless
the physician has forbidden it, but be sure that you
do not cool the air too much in trying to freshen it.
There is no essential connection between cold air
and fure air. In admitting fresh air, be very care-
ful that it cannot blow directly upon the invalid.
A shawl spread across two high-backed chairs will
take the place of a screen in keeping off the draught.
Keep everything about the patient as sweet and
clean as possible. Have the room neat and pleas-
ant and orderly. A row of sticky bottles, with two
or three spoons in which medicine has been meas-
ured, a bowl from which gruel has been served,
an untidy grate, a littered floor or table, will make
any sick person feel discouraged. A few flowers
by the bedside, a constant supply of fresh, cool
water, bed-clothes frequently smoothed and pillow
changed, the light carefully shaded from the weak
eyes,-attention to little things like these will
make a great difference in the comfort and spirits
of the sick person.
Write down all that the physician tells you be-
fore you forget it, and pin the paper where you
can consult it easily; and look at it frequently, that
you may not let the time for giving medicine slip
by without knowing it. This will save you the
trouble of remembering everything, and if some
one comes to take your place, you will not have to
repeat the directions.
Do not wait until sick people ask for what they
want, but try to anticipate their wishes. Some
people, with the kindest intentions, annoy by con-
stantly asking the sick if they do not wish this and
that, and how they feel, and other similar ques-


tions, until they are quite worn out by answering,
and are tempted to give the ungracious reply, that
all they want is to be let alone.
In sickness, people are sensitive to small annoy-
ances, which can hardly be appreciated by a person
in health. The crackling of a newspaper, or the
rustle of a silk dress, may become a source of seri-
ous discomfort to them. Learn to avoid all unnec-
essary noise, but remember that there is a sort of
laborious quiet, more annoying still. V., .11 about
on tiptoe, or whispering, are sure to disturb a nerv-
ous person more than an ordinary step or tone.
If the fire needs replenishing, it can be done very
quietly by having the coal in paper bags, which
can be laid on with no noise at all. If you are
careful, every time you leave the room, to remember
to take something with you which is to go down
stairs, and, when you come back, to bring some-
thing which you need, you will save yourself many
steps, and the invalid the annoyance of hearing you
go out and in five or six times, when once would
have done as well.
Ask the physician what food a sick person may
have, and be careful to follow his directions in this,
as in everything else, exactly. Whatever you take
to the invalid, make it look as attractive as possible.
Marion Harland has told you, in ST. NICHOLAS,
how to make beef tea, and always put it in the
prettiest bowl you can find," which is a very im-
portant part. Do not take too much of anything.
as a small quantity is much more likely to tempt
the appetite. Spread a clean napkin over your
salver, and if you have nothing more to offer than
a toasted cracker, and a cup of tea, let everything
be good of the kind, and neatly served. A slop of
tea in the saucer, a burnt side to the cracker, a
sticky spoon, may spoil what might have seemed
an attractive breakfast. If the invalid can sit up in
a chair to eat, so much the better; but if not,
spread a large napkin, or towel, over the sheet,
that it may not become disfigured by drops spilled
upon it. Have something always at hand to throw
over the shoulders while sitting up in bed, and see
that the pillows are so arranged as to afford a com-
fortable support for the back.
If you can procure some little delicacy, it will
taste much better if it comes as a surprise than it
will if you have been foolish enough to mention it
beforehand. Food should never be spoken of in a
sick room, unless it is absolutely necessary.
If you read aloud, be sure to read distinctly,
and not too long at a time, because sick people are
easily tired. This must be remembered when call-
ers are admitted. When they ask leave to come
in, you must say, frankly, that your charge can
only bear short visits ; and when you yourself are
calling on invalids, remember that time seems


x880.]


587








~88 MY LADY IS EATING HER MUSH. [MAY,


longer to them than it does to you. Last of all,
but by no means least, talk only of pleasant things.
The baby's last funny speech, the good fortune of
your friend, the pleasant letter, bringing good
news from a far country, the amusing anecdote,
the entertaining book,-never of the worries, and
pain, and care, which come to your knowledge.
Sick people do not need to hear of others' misfor-
tunes. They know enough of their own. What-
ever of weariness or anxiety you may feel, never
betray it by word or look, and do not let them feel
that the time which you devote to them is given
grudgingly. I have said nothing of kindness, and
forbearance, and patience, and good temper; but
all these graces will be needed, since invalids often
are very provoking. Let all their little peevish


ways give you a hint of something to avoid when
your time of sickness comes, and you are minis-
tered to by others.
These few suggestions, of course, do not exhaust
the subject. They may seem to you quite unneces-
sary, and only what ought to be familiar to every
one; but they are not always acted upon, as many
sufferers can testify.
Dr. Holmes, who knows something, from educa-
tion, observation, and experience, about a sick
room, says that
"--Simple kindness kneeling by the bed
To shift the pillow for the sick man's head,
Give the fresh draught to cool the lips that burn,
Fan the hot brow, the weary frame to turn;
Wins back more sufferers with her voice and smile,
Than all the trumpery in the druggist's pile."


MY LADY IS EATING HER MUSH.,


HUSHABY, hushaby, hush,
My lady is eating her mush.
Her little black servant, alas!
Is bobbing in front of the glass-
Bobbing now, just think upon it,
Drest in my lady's best bonnet !


The cat on the pantry shelf
To the cream is helping herself.
A little grey mouse, at her ease,
Is nibbling away at the cheese.
Each slyly her own way pursuing,
Sees not what the other is doing--


But wait till my lady is done!
Wait, if you wish to see fun!


588


[MAY,


MY LADY IS EATING HER MUSII.







THE BOY AND THE GIANT.


THE BOY AND THE GIANT.

BY SUSAN COOLIDGE.


ONCE upon a time there was a giant, a real true
giant; not a made-up one, such as we read about
in fairy tales. He was nearly twelve feet high, as
tall as two ordinary men, and his head and hands
and body were big in proportion. Also, he was
enormously strong. When he went out to fight
he carried in his hand a spear which weighed three
hundred pounds, and wore a huge brazen helmet,
and a coat of mail so heavy that a horse was
hardly able to drag it along. But the strong giant
bore it easily, and it clanked with a terrible noise
as he stalked about. In all the land where he lived
was no man so strong as he, and when his country-
people prepared for battle he was always set in
front of the other soldiers, because the very look
of him was enough to make the enemy tremble
and run away.
In another country, close to that in which the
giant dwelt, there lived at the same time a good
old farmer who had eight sons. Seven of them
were tall, stalwart fellows, of whom their father
was justly proud. The youngest was a slight,
active lad, with a fair skin and pink cheeks, whom
his big brothers, as big brothers often will, looked
upon as almost a baby, and treated accordingly.
They did the hard and heavy work on the farm,
and set him to watch and tend the sheep, of which
the old farmer had a large flock. Tending sheep
in those days, however, was not so easy a task as
with us, for there were wild beasts in the land, and
occasionally they attacked the flocks in their past-
uring grounds. One morning the little shepherd
came in with an exciting story. A lion with a bear,
he said, had fallen on the sheep during the night;
and he had fought and killed them both. The old
farmer was pleased at his boy's prowess, but the
big brothers laughed provokingly, and guessed"
it must have been a very small lion and a very
small bear, and that little David was making a
great deal out of a small matter. Did I tell you
that David was the youngest brother's name ?
Of course, David did not like this treatment, but
he was of a happy, cheerful temper, and bore it
pleasantly, returning no sharp words, but going
on with his daily work and biding his time. "All
things come to him who waits," says the old prov-
erb. Much was coming to David.
The country in which these persons lived was
ruled at that time by a young king, who had been
selected by lot a few years before. He was taller
and handsomer than any other young man in the


land; a great fighter, too, and the people were
very proud of him at first. But he was not as
wise as he was handsome, and latterly had done
many wrong and foolish things, and offended the
Lord God, who was the real head and king of the
nation. God had, therefore, resolved to give the
people another king, and had signified this to a
great prophet who, in those days, dwelt in the
land, and was much feared and respected by every-
body. He told the Prophet to take the horn of
oil with which the kings were always anointed,
and go down to the part of the country where the
old farmer lived, and anoint a new king from
among the eight sons.
So, horn in hand, the Prophet went. The peo-
ple of the ,II..- were frightened when they saw
him, for they feared it was to predict some misfor-
tune that he was come to them. But he smiled
and said No, it was no misfortune; he was there
to offer a sacrifice, and everybody must attend and
help. Among the rest came the old farmer and
his seven elder sons. Little David stayed with his
sheep,-nobody thought of him. I dare say they
did not even let him know that the Prophet was
there.
When the Prophet saw the seven tall, splendid
young men, he rejoiced in his heart.
He looked on the eldest as he came forward,
and thought, Surely the Lord's Anointed is be-
fore me !" But the voice of the Lord within the
Prophet seemed to say: I have refused him, for
the Lord seeth not as man seeth, for man looketh
on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh
on the heart."
Then the second son came forward, and the
third and the fourth, and each time the Prophet
thought, Surely this is he But still the voice
of the Lord within the Prophet said, "Neither
have I chosen this."
When all the seven had tried and failed, the
Prophet asked of the farmer, "Are here all thy
children ? "
The farmer replied:
There remaineth the youngest, but behold he
keepeth the sheep."
Then said the Prophet, Send and fetch him."
Pretty soon, fresh, rosy and active, his shepherd's
staff in his hand and wonderment in his eyes, came
the little shepherd through the crowd; and the
Prophet knew that this was the chosen of the
Lord. So he poured the oil en his head, and


z88o.]


589








590 THE BOY AND TIlE GIANT. [MAY,


cried, "This is he who shall be king over the
people !"
I have an idea that the big brothers stared at
this scene, and afterward whispered among them-
selves, that the Prophet was getting old and did
not seem to know what he was about, else why did
he choose that boy ? Little David did not take on
any airs because of these new honors, but went
back to his sheep-cote, did his work faithfully, and
when he had leisure, composed music and played
on a harp which he had, singing with his fresh
voice. In all the country round, no one played so
well as David.
Not long after, the young king was seized,with
a strange mental illness. He became moody and
fierce, could not sleep, and daily grew worse.
Nothing seemed to soothe him excepting the sound
of music, and his attendants sought far and wide
for a skillful harper who could play before the
king and brighten his mood with sweet sounds.
Some of them heard of David, and one day they
came and carried him and his harp to the.court.
David was not frightened, and played so beautifully
that the king loved to hear him better than any
one else, and when he recovered, he kept the dear
boy near him as an armor-bearer, or page. Before
long, however, a great war broke out between the
people of that land and the people of the fearful
giant. The king had to rouse himself and take
command of the army, so he sent the little page
home again to his father and the sheep.
All the active fighting men were wanted for the
war, and among the rest went David's seven broth-
ers. The two armies encamped on two opposite
mountains, with a 11-. between, and every morn-
ing and every evening the great giant, in his
shining armor, with his spear in his hand and his
enormous shield borne before him by a man, strode
down from the hillside into the valley, and called
out, insultingly, I defy you Send down a man
to fight me, if there is one among you. If I con-
quer, you shall all be my servants, and if you con-
quer, we will be yours." But the people knew very
well who was likely to conquer, and no one dared
answer the -.i .il._- ., because the giant was so big
and terrible.
So things went on for several days, the giant
becoming louder and more insulting in his tone,
and no one venturing to descend into the valley to
meet him. One morning the old farmer loaded
an ass with corn and cheeses and loaves of bread,
and told David to drive it to the camp; for he
feared the brothers there would be in want of food.
I fancy David must have been glad to go-boys
like to see what is going on, and it is not pleasant
to be left at home as too young to help, when all
the others set forth to fight giants.


So David fed his sheep, gave directions for the
care of them to one of the serving men, took a
last look at the quiet fold, and set forth. The
Bible, which gives the rest of this beautiful story,
does not tell us anything about David's journey to
the camp, but among the people of David there is
a pretty tradition, which I will give, not as true,
but only as curious:
As David went he passed over a pebbly bit of
soil, and a stone cried to him, Pick me up and
take me with thee.' He stooped and picked up
the stone and placed it in his pouch. And when
he had taken a few paces, another stone cried to
him, 'Pick me up and take me with thee.' He
did so. And a third stone cried in like manner,
and was in like manner taken by David. The first
stone was that wherewith Abraham had driven
away Satan, when he sought to dissuade the patri-
arch from offering up his son; and the second
stone was that on which the foot of Gabriel rested
when he opened the fountain in the desert for
Hagar and Ishmael; and the third stone was that
Swherewith Jacob strove against the angel whom his
brother Esau had sent against him. It was with
these stones that David afterward vanquished the
Philistine."
David reached the camp just as a great battle
seemed about to begin. His brothers were with
their thousands in the trenches. He left the
provisions with the tent-keeper, and searched till.
he found the brothers. As they stood talking,
down from the opposite mountain stalked the
giant, shaking his spear and clattering his iron
armor. The very earth trembled as he marched
along. In the valley below, he halted, and again
rang the insulting challenge:
Give me a man and let us fight together."
When David heard this, the hot blood blazed in
his cheeks, and he spoke passionately to those near
him: Who is this unholy Philistine that he
should defy the armies of the living God? What
will the king give to the man who killeth him
and taketh away the reproach from Israel?"
The others replied: The man who killeth the
giant the king will enrich with great riches, and
will give him his daughter, and make his father's
house free forever."
But David's oldest brother was vexed at what
he considered the boastful spirit of the question,
and he said, severely, What did you come here
for, and who is taking care of your sheep while you
are away ? I know what a conceited fellow you
are. You have run away to see the battle, and
ought to be at home."
But meantime somebody had repeated David's
words to the king. I suppose, after the long panic
they had been in, it was refreshing to have some-


[MAY,


590


THE BOY AND THE GIANT.






THE BOY AND THE GIANT.


body speak in a different strain, for the king sent
for David, and asked him why he had said thus.
And David answered, Let no man's heart fail
him, I will go and fight this Philistine."
But," said the king, you are not able; you
are only a boy, and he is a man of war from his
youth up."
But David said: Thy servant kept his father's
sheep, and there came a lion and a bear and took
a lamb out of the flock.
And I went out after him and smote him, and
delivered him out of his mouth; and when he
arose against me I caught him by the beard, and
smote him and slew him. Thy servant slew both
the lion and the bear, and this unholy Philis-
tine shall be as one of them, seeing that
he has defied the armies of the living God.
The Lord that delivered me out of the
paw of the lion and out of the paw of the
bear, He will deliver me out of the hand
of this Philistine."
And when the king heard this and
marked David's clear eye and brave bear-
ing, he said, "Go, and the Lord be with .
thee." Then he offered to lend David his
own helmet and sword and coat of mail.
But when David tried them, he found that
he could not move easily because he was
unused to them; so he took them off again,
and in his simple shepherd's coat, with
his staff in his hand, and his sling and
a wallet full of smooth stones by his side,
set off down the hill to meet the giant.
When the giant saw the slender boy
come forth to meet him, he was full of
anger and contempt, and said : Am I a
dog that you come to me with a staff?"
He began to curse and swear. Come
here, and I will give thy flesh to the
fowls of the air and the beasts of the field. '
Then said David: Thou comest to
me with a sword and with a spear and
shield, but I come to thee in the name of
the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies
of Israel, whom thou hast defied.
This day will the Lord deliver thee into
my hand, and I will smite thee and take thy head
from thee; and I will give the carcasses of the host
of the Philistines this day to the fowls of the air and
to the beasts of the field, that all the earth may
know that there is a God in Israel.
And all this assembly shall know that the
Lord saveth not with sword and spear, for the bat-
tie is the Lord's, and he will give you into our
.hands."
When the giant heard these daring words he
roared louder than ever, and made haste across the


valley that he might seize and crush the boy
between his finger and thumb. David made haste
too, and as he ran, slipping his hand into the
pouch, he chose a pebble, put it into his sling,
and, taking good aim, hurled it straight at his foe.
So truly was it aimed that the pebble hit the giant
exactly in the middle of his vast forehead, and
struck so heavily that he was stunned, and fell to
the ground. Then David, who had no sword,
ran, jumped on the giant, plucked the big sword
from the sheath, and with it cut off the giant's
head, which he held up that the people on both
hillsides might see. Oh, what a shout arose from
the army of Israel while the Philistines, seized
with sudden panic, scattered and ran like sheep,


































the Israelites pursuing and slaying thousands of
SI































David. He never went back again to the sheep-
-- -







.I -









the Israelites pursuing and slaying thousands of
them before they could escape to their own land.
This was the end of the giant, but not of little
David. He never went back again to the sheep-
folds. The Lord had greater xxork for him to do, and
put, instead of the flocks, a nation into his keeping.
I-Ie had been faithful over a few things, and was
faithful also over the larger charge when it came.
Israel never had so wise nor so great a ruler as her
Shepherd Kiing and Sweet Singer, who, when he
was a boy, fought with and overcame the giant.


591


i88o.]





FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.


CHRISTMAS EVE.
BY LUCY G. MORSE.

MAM-MA was put-ting Gre-ta and Mi-mi to bed the night be-fore
Christ-mas; and she told them this story: "Af-ter the chil-dren are fast
a-sleep, the good Sant-a Klaus climbs down the chim-neys with his great
bag of toys. Then he goes to all the lit-tle beds and looks at the fa-ces
of the sleep-ers, and he has seen so man-y of them that he has grown
ve-ry wise. While they are at rest he can tell if the lit-tie shut eyes look

\ ,, ''


V .


















am sure it has been a smil-ing, hap-py mouth all day Her hands are
"-"--'- I






















her a big piece of the cake which Grand-ma sent Gre-ta for her own.'
"Then Sant-a Klaus will see Mi-mi and say: 'I think Mi-mi's face
looks as if she loved Gre-ta-her mouth looks full of kiss-es, and her
f .e : but ..,' .,'-s.Iu-v k




















hands will soon learn to be bu-sy, like Gre-ta's.' Last of all, Sant-a
Klaus will go to Mam-ma's bed, and will say: 'Mam-ma's face would
not look so hap-py and so full of peace if h ll l ere not ve-ry
not look so hap-py and so full of peace if her lit-tle girls were not ve-ry


[MAY,


592






x88o.] FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK. 593

good and sweet. I must put some of my pret-ti-est toys in their stock-
ings, and I will leave two pict-ure-books on their lit-tle chairs.' "
Then Mam-ma hung up the stock-ings and kissed her lit-tle ones
good-night. Gre-ta and Mi-mi were so hap-py that they laughed soft-ly
un-der the bed-cov-ers, and they had to wink and blink their eyes a
long time be-fore they could go to sleep.
And in the morn-ing the sto-ry came out true.





LITTLE SPECKLE HAS LAID AN EGG.

BY E. T. ALDEN.

S. ITTLE SPECK-LE has laid an egg,-
r L Kik, kak, kik-a-kee, koo !"
Bob-by Shang-hai lifts his leg
S And mut-ters a low K 1-doo!"
)'' The gray goose stretch-es her neck to hear,
SThe pig-eons o-ver the barn-eaves peer,
SThe ducks wad-die out of the mud;
The pig-gy grunts at the door of his sty,
The cow looks up with a won-der-ing eye,
For-get-ting to chew her cud;
Baa !" bleats the goat by the hay-stack tied,
The po-ny stamps in his stall,
The par-rot, perched by the win-dow wide,
Be-gins to scream and call,
The kit-tens un-der the ta-ble hide,
"Bow-wow!" barks Frisk in the hall;
And lit-tle Char-ley comes run-ning out
To see what the fuss is all a-bout.

It's on-ly Speck-le,-" K'kak, k'kee!"-
She 's laid an egg as sure as can be.
It's on-ly Speck-le-" K'kak, k'koo!"-
So proud she does n't know what to do.


___ ______ __~__~~__ _____


___






JACK- IN-THE -PULPIT.


--J jK-IN-TH-PULP.

-K IN -THE -P ULP! T.


Now the bright morning-star, day's harbinger,
comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
the ii:. i May," as somebody's Jack said, ever
so long ago.
Talking of long ago," my youngsters, you
ought to be truly thankful that you don't live in
the times of the old Romans, for they gave up the
whole of May to the old folks, the Majores," as
they called them. It is from this that the month
takes its name, the Little Schoolma'am says. She
might tell you more about it, perhaps, but, just
now, she is busy cleaning house;-which reminds
me, since it is moist spring weather, to give you a
few dry facts from another schoolma'am about

CA R PETS.
"HUNDREDS and hundreds of years ago, when
Europeans were living with floors bare or strewed
with rushes or twigs, carpets were in use in China,
India and Egypt. The first carpets were simply
rugs to sit upon in place of chairs. In the time of
Homer, the blind Greek poet, either plain or em-
broidered carpets were spread before the couches
that guests reclined upon at meals; and later,
when the Greeks grew more fond of rich and gay
furniture, they imported from Babylon gorgeous
carpets with raised figures of men and animals.
The early Romans were stern warriors and did
not mind bare floors; but, when Rome became
mistress of the world, her chief men grew extrava-
gant, and bought the richest carpets the Orientals
could make.
"The first attempt to make carpets in Western
Europe was the plaiting of rushes into matting.
Before this, Queen Mary I. of England had her
presence chamber, where she received company,
strewed with rushes. But Elizabeth, when she
came to the throne, had the rushes cleared away
and fine Turkey carpets put in their place.


It used to take a man a life-time to make a
carpet large enough for a small room, because car-
pets had to be made by hand; and this caused
them to be very costly, so that only rich persons
could afford to buy them. Europeans at length
succeeded in weaving them by machinery, and in
course of time even poor families could have warm
and pretty coverings for the floors of their rooms.
But still, nowadays, in Persia, Turkey and India,
whole families are employed in making carpets by
hand, and some persons consider these far finer
than the best that machinery can weave."

PHOTOGRAPHS UNDER WATER.
NOBODY yet has opened a studio for taking
photographic portraits under water, I believe,-
unless some of you hasty young inventors have
been getting ahead of your Jack's paragrams. But
somebody has succeeded in taking a few photo-
graphs deep in the sea, near the coast of Scotland.
So, now, any one who is burning to distinguish
himself may rejoice in a cool way of becoming
famous. All he has to do is to dive well down
under water with a weighted photographing ma-
chine, and take portraits all day long of wonderful
fishes and corals and shells, and weedy and ugly
monsters in their native haunts. It would be well
for him to choose a time after the big fishes have
dined, or they might mistake him for dinner. Or
he might go down in a diving-bell, or even arrange
to do the work from a boat on the surface of the
water by means of electricity.
Well, any way, you 'd better think these hints.
over pretty thoroughly before you put them into
practice, my youngsters.
THE GEMSBOK AND ELAND.
My DEAR MiqR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: In answer to S. W. K.'s
question in you.. I I .. I I found in "Wood's Natural His-
tory" that althh .... i is nearly independent of water, it
needs some moisture; and it would perish in the arid deserts, were it
not that it finds there certain plants which attract and retain every
particle of moisture that may happen to settle near. You mentioned
one of these plants in September, 1879.
I 1: 1.. -. ... .. ,...- about the Oryx or the Druiker; but,
conco........ I '.. I s that in some strange way it con-
trives to live for months together without drinking; and even when
the herbage is so dry that it crumbles to powder in the hand, the
Eland keeps in good condition.-Yours truly, BELLA WEHvL.

THE TWO BIGGEST TREES.
YOUR Jack has just received the :r Iiii,,. news
that, in Victoria, Australia, two trees have been
found larger than the biggest trees of California !
They are of the Eucalyptus family, and one of
them is four hundred and thirty-five feet high, the
other four hundred and fifty.
What will the giant California trees say to this?

ABOUT SOME TEA-LEAVES.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I believe you would like to know
about this, so I will tell you, and then you can tell the others, if you
wish to.
One evening, a nice lady, something like the Lady from Philadel-
phia whom the Peterkins knew, ask. 1.. i .. ...
"Do you know the shape of the t i.. ,
Of course, we all said "No."
"But you can very easily find out," said she.
I said, "I don't see very well how." And none of the others
knew how. We had no books that told about the shape of tea-leaves;
and, as for dried tea, of course that would n't help.


594


[MAY,







i88o.]


JACK-IN- THE-PULPIT.


595


"You have some soaked t- le-*r t- -h 1-' you," said the lady. The pictures show a young tree with its roots
"Take a few out of the' r i .i .. '.... I flat."
We said, "0, pshaw; i .... had a lot of tea-leaves spread already grown part of the way down, and also a
out flat. Some of them were torn, but the whole ones were very well grown tree, though not one of the tallest, for
pretty, and, afterward, picked out a number, and arranged themon itroots reach up only thirty feet, or about five
white paper. The little girls from near by all came in to see, and its t eih o the t et thm
said they looked very pretty. times the height of the man standing beside them.
Good-hye, dear Jack, with love from your little friend,
MAMtIE LEIwls. THE CUCKOO.
ROOTS EIGHTY FEET IN AIR. THE cuckoo bird is like the cow-bird in one
IN the East Indies there are trees whose roots thing-it lays eggs in the nests of other birds, and
stand seventy and even eighty feet in the air,- lets them hatch the eggs and take care of the
more than twelve times the height of a tall man. strange young ones. Its name comes from tle cry
A tree of this kind generally grows from a seed it makes, which is just like the sound of the word
dropped by a bird in a fork of some other lofty cuckoo." In England, this bird's note, when
tree. The young plant lives for a time on the sap heard for the first time early in the year, is sup-
of the friendly giant that supports it, but, in a little posed to tell that spring is coming.
while, it sends out roots which grow toward the Your Jack reminds you of all this, my dears, so
that you may better understand
these verses which V. H. G. sends, as
S a translation, by himself, from the
Y& -I G Qerman:
*- ,' ~ once from the town a starling flew,
S -''. -' -- -,:. And on the road there met his view
What is the news from town to-day?"
S-'Said he: "The nightingale's sweet lays
ZS "Receive from all the greatest praise.
'-- _____ The thrush, the blackbird and the wren,
'- l"h" ll: II 'l ,','"' I; l'l'',''I I ll le'm'l' ll ll i'' -I'- A re slightly m mentioned now and then."
SThen said the cuckoo, anxiously:
---'. .. Pray tell me what they say of me."
-I-- The starling faltered, then replied.
S - What greatly hurt the cuckoo's ptide:
"That is a thing I cannot do;
Because none ever speak of you."
The cuckoo tossing, then, his head
S" In anger to the starling said:
'lI be : 1 ad will from spite
I Sing of .,, .11 .. morn till night."
: BAMBOOZLE.
Si THIS is a word which the Chinese
and gypsies gave us, the Little
Schoolma'am says. And she adds
'~- that it takes its meaning from an old,
I Ii. ad common joke in China-that of
-: dressing a man in bamboos in order
fI to teach him to swim. But it does
S: n't teach him, and, if he has been
dull enough to submit to the joke,
Sr Phe finds he has been fooled about it.




S- boy, he was lost in a forest haunted by wild
beasts. The harder he tried to fi ,- C ;. 1 1.
the deeper he got into the wood. ". -I ,
came on, he reached a strean, and on its edge
were tracks of wild animals who came there to
S'drink,--bears, panthers, deer and elk. But,
1- 'besides these, there was the fresh print of a
cow's boof. :He thought this must be the fa-
-s' vorite c. .w m issed fr ... ... :.1.1 .' .
SSo he hid himself and waited, hoping she
,K_:*.ca would come there again to drink.
She did come; and, as she was quietly
A TREE WITH ROOTS THIRTY FEET IN AIR. walking awna, the boy took a strong grip of
her tail, struck her with a stick, and hallooed at
ground and at last strike there. When the older her. This scared her erry much, and she ran so fast that it was all
She could do to keep hold. When she stopped, they were in a clear-
tree dies and falls to pieces, the other is held up ing near home. She was quelled by that time, and he easily got her
firmly by its own roots, from the top of which, as into the barn.
from a tall pyramid of interlacing trunks, it reads Of course, he felt proud at having recovered a vaable animal, but
its head and spreads abroad its lacg ueae s te folks only laughed at him, because, they said, "he had been
its head and spreads abroad its leafy branches, found by a lost cow" -Yours truly, L. H.







596 THE TRUE AND SAD BALLAD OF SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN. [MAY,





THE TRUE AND SAD BALLAD OF SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN.

THIS pathetic ballad, now printed for the first time, was written thirty years ago by a little girl for the entertainment of her playmates.
Together they had just witnessed the enactment of this true history, and had sorrowed over the tragic fates of Christie, Sister Chirp, Pick,
Hop and the "sweet ladye." We can imagine the melancholy satisfaction of the little group in listening to the recital so closely resem-
bling, to their ears, the ballads in their beloved book, "Percy's Reliques." Miss Bridges gives you, in the frontispiece, a spirited
sketch of Sir Christopher and his family, showing them in their pretty home iust before their troubles began.


SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN was as brave a bird
As ever sang in a tree,
And when the northern summer was come,
Up from the south came he.

He stole the heart of a birdie small,
And made her his Lady Wren,
The happiest bird for miles around
Was our Sir Christopher then.

O long is the early summer day,
And long was the way they went,
Over meadow and garden and woodland wild,
To look for a place to rent.

At last they came to a calabash
With a large, round hole for a door,
A house that was to be had for a song,
And so they looked no more.

Ah, he was a skillful architect
That raised the great St. Paul;
But our Sir Christopher Wren could make
What the other could not at all.

And after a while there were dear little eggs,
Four round e.7- ;. the nest,
And the mothe .... spread out her wings,
And settled herself to rest.

Oh, day by day did her true knight fly
Her dainty meals to bring;
And day by day, to please his ladye,
Would hop on the roof and sing.

At last out came the little ones,
As hungry as they could be;
Sir Christopher never in all his life
Had seen any birds so wee.

And proud and happy was he,
And his evening song was gay,
Although he was often tired with flying
About for food all day.

Oh, sad and drear is the tale I sing,
And O that it were not true
One day they both went out to search,
To look for a worm or two.

Then up and spake young Christie Wren,
"Oh, sister Chirp," said he,
"I think I 'I look outside this door
To find what I can see."

" Oh no, oh no, our brother dear!"
Cried out his sisters three;
"You might fall down and break your bones."
Oh, I'Il take care," said he.

But, sure enough, away he went,
His sisters heard him go;
They tried to pull him back again,
But saw him fall below.

Oh, when Sir Christopher and his wife
Came back in the evening gray,


And saw their son so dear and dead,
How sad, how sad were they.

With hearts of grief they went, next day,
To get some food for the rest;
But the poor little birds had been so frightened
They never stirred from the nest.

This time they brought in food enough
To last at least a week;
But little Pick she ate so much
She could nor move nor speak.

They could not do her a bit of good,
And pretty soon she died;
They laid her on the ground so low,
And bitterly they sighed.

Oh, sad and drear is the northern wind,
And sad is the tale I write!
One night the northern wind blew cold,
Though it was in the summer night.

And Lady Wren she covered her daughters;
But little Hop did say:
SI wont have covers! I wont have covers!"
And threw them ell away.

So when the morning sunlight came,
Poor Hop was cold and dead:
They laid her on the ground so low,
And many a tear was shed.

Poor little Chirp sat all so lonely
Beneath her mother's wing,
She would not hop about nor play,
Nor eat a single thing.

They sometimes left her all alone,
Alone in the empty nest,
So, at last, she pined herself away,
And went with all the rest.

And yet more sad my tale must be,-
For, oh! it came to pass,
Next day the poor little Lady Wren
Was hopping among the grass.

She was trying to pick a little dinner,
Though grief was on her mind,
And she did not see the old gray puss
Come creeping on behind.

He pounced upon the little lady
Before she turned her head;
She hardly even felt his paw,
She was so quickly dead.

And poor Sir Christopher hopped in the tree
Till the evening shades grew dim,
Looking about for his little lady
Who never came back to him.

He left the home where he once had been
As happy as any prince;
Slowly and sadly he flew away,
And has never been heard of since.







THE LETTER-BOX.





THE LETTER-BOX.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: There is a young lady in Boston, who asks
"why I could not unbutton my dress" when I v'" cnr-iht m1 ,
trunk, and "slip out of it,"-out of my dress, she :.. I
the trouble. I could not "slip out" of anything. I tried to slip out
of my boots, but could not reach them (for I could not move), and it
would not have done any good. My dress was caught and held me
fast, so I could not "slip out," or turn anywhere. I wished I could.
I wish trunks would not snap to, so, when you sit on them, and yet
they wont shut if you don't.--Respectfully,
ELIZABETH ELIZA PETERKIN.
P S.-The young lady might try.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : My cousin, who is in a ship coming from
Java, wrote this about a monkey which they had on board: He
is as full of mischief as he can be. Once a sailor was taking a letter
to the captain to be mailed, when up jumped Jack, for that is the
monkey's name, snatched the letter and tore it up. This was the
first time the poor sailor had written home for more than three years.
Once before, he wrote, and a parrot tore up that letter. He would
not write a third; so Jack did more harm than he meant to, perhaps.
He is a very good friend to the ducks; but he does not like chickens,
and pulls out their feathers whenever he gets a chance."
ALLIE M. J.


ALPHA EPSILON.-From your description, we should say the coin
is a Spanish piece of two "reals." It is of small value as money, and
of no value for a collection.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Sister Katy told me this story about a pair
of ducks: A lady bought a pair of ducks, and after a while one of
them was run over by a cart and died. The one that lived would not
eat anything nor do anything. One day it found a little piece of
looking-glass on the barn floor, and looked into it; and it sat down
there and nobody could get it away. For a long time they could not
think what was the matter. But at last they found it out. There
it saw its own reflection, butit thought it was the other duck. I think
this showed that it did not forget, but loved still.
This is a true story.-From your loving reader,
LIzzIE H. HILLIARD.


one here smart enough to guess it, and if any of the readers of the
'Letter-Box' can solve it, I shall be very glad."


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have heard that, in Australia, the leaves,
instead of i .. i .:, flat surfaces to the sun, turn their edges to
his rays. 1i I-.. -Your friend, CARRIE SNEAD.

THOSE of our older readers who were interested in the Algebraic
problem printed in the Letter-Box for July, 1879, may like to
test the following solution, for which the author holds himselfre-
sponsible. Several other "solutions have been sent in, but there is
not room for more than one.
Doylestown Seminary, Doylestown, Pa.
Editor "ST. NICHOLAS": The following is a true solution of the
algebraic problem discussed in your magazine:

(I.) x y= 7
(2.) x+y2= I
(3.) x2 + xy2 = IIx (multiply (2) by x)
(4.) x2 -y= Ix 7 [subtract (I) from (3)]
(5.) 2x- z-2y2 =22 [multiply (2) by z]
(6.) xy2 -2y' t2x -y= IIx-- 15 [add (4) and (5)]
(7.) (x +2)y2 X- y=9x + 15 (factoring and reducing)
(8.) y2- = 9~ (dividing by coefficient of y2)

(9.) Y + (0) = (completing
the square) y -- -- 36x52 -i32 i _6 x
2s-+4 x 4)2 2x-4


(10.) y -r4 (transpose)

y=3
S--2
x+9=II
X= 2.


M. E. SCHEIBNER.


ROBERT T. asks the Letter-Box readers to let him know who
ISABELLA NICHOLS-", t. Kitt's" is the local name of "St. first said "Be sure you are right; then go ahead; and when and
Christopher's," one of the Caribbee Islands, and a possession of Great why he sid it.
Britain.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like my game of "Solitaire" much better
than the one spoken of by Benjamin T. Delafield in the March
"Letter-Box." My father made me a board, five or six yeais ago,
with a small gimlet hole in place of Delafield's numbers: and we use
a little peg for every hole except the center one, which is left to jump
into at the first move. We are not allowed to jump diagonally at all.
The game consists in leaving but one man; it is very difficult, but it
can be done. V. D'O. S. S.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The other day I saw in an article in a
newspaper the following item:
The decade of the eighteen hundred and seventies is now a
thing of the past, and we have entered upon the momentous decade
of the eighteen hundred andeighties."
It seems to me that the writer of this has made a mistake in
reckoning the decade. Did n't the first decade begin with the year
one, and end with the year ten ? And did n't the second begin with
the year eleven and end with the year twenty ? And so did n't the
decade c i : i and seventies begin with the begin-
ning of seventy-one, and does n't it end with
the present year ? I have heard it said that Washington died in
the last hour of the last day of the last century. But he died a
little before midnight on the "'4th of December, 1799. And be-
sides that, the last century ended with the end of the year 18oo.
I should like to know what other ST. NICHOLAS readers think about
it.-Your devoted reader, M. A. G. C.

A SCIOOL-BOY writes, saying: "One of our teachers, the other
night, proposed this riddle, which, she said, broke Homer's heart:
'Some fishermen went fishing. What they caught they threw away,
and what they did n't catch they carried with them.' There is no


SEVEN, ELEVEN, AND THIRTEEN.
MANY young students who enjoy occasional pastime in arithmeti-
cal play-grounds will be interested in the following communication
from Mr. Hale:
The arithmetics in common use generally contain rules for finding
out by inspection whether numbers are divisible by 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8,
9 or io, but make no attempt at all, or at best an imperfect attempt,
to give a rule for 7 and stop short with the decimal number. But it
happens that there is a simple rule which answers perfectly as regards
all numbers exceeding' i,ooo, not only for 7 but also for two other
ugly looking prime numbers, namely Ii and 13 It is an objection
to this rule that it does not apply to numbers less than 1,ooo; but
neither does the rule ordinarily given for finding out whether a num-
ber is divisible by 8, apply when the hundreds are even.
The rule for finding whether a number is divisible by 7, i, or 13
is this: Separate the number into two parts by detaching the last
three figures from the rest; subtract the smaller of these two parts
from the larger; repeat the process, if necessary, until a remainder
less than r,ooo is obtained; if this remainder be divisible by 7, or x',
or 13, the original number is divisible by the same divisor; other-
wise, not.
For example, suppose we have the number i -1* P- the rule,
we separate it into two parts, 654 and 731. \ .- r 654 from
731 and find the remainder to be 77. This we easily see is divisible
by 7, and also by si, but not by 13. We conclude, therefore, that
the number 654,731 is divisible by 7 and also by xi, but not by 13;
and this is true.
The reason why this rule holds, lies in this, that the number I,oox,
celebrated in the famous Arabian Nights' Entertainments, is not ca-
priciously obtained by the addition of a single unit to the round thou-
sand, on the principle upon which is based the phrase "forever and
a day "i but is the continued product of the three numbers 7, tx, and
13. Seven times eleven is seventy-seven, and thirteen times seventy-


i880.]


597








THE LETTER-BOX.


seven is one thousand and one. Accordingly, any number divisible
by i,ooi is divisible by all three of its factors, 7, ix, and i3 ; and, if
what is left of the number after the division by 1,o01 is divisible by
any of these factors, the whole number is divisible by the same
factor; otherwise, not. The separation of the number into two
parts, and the subtraction of one of these from the other, is a short
way of ascertaining the remainder after a division by o,oao, when the
former part is less than the latter, and is substantially the same thing,
as far as our purpose is concerned, when it is greater.
For finding out whether numbers less than s,ooo are divisible by 7,
Ir, or r3, there are certain rules, differing, however, for each divisor.
Again, we must separate the number into two parts, this time by de-
taching the last two figures. For 7, we double the former part and
add it to the latter ; for xi, we add the former part to the latter with-
out change; and for 13, we multiply the former part by 9 before add-
ing. In every case, if the sum obtained by the addition is divisible
by 7, IT, or 13, the original number is divisible by the same; other-
wise, not.
For instance, the number 1,876, which marked the Centennial year,
is seen to be divisible by 7, when we separate it into two parts, 18
and 76, and, after doubling the former, add 36 to 76, obtaining ai2,
which is divisible by 7. But 1,876 is not divisible by ox, since 18 and
76 added together give 94, which is not divisible by IT; nor is it
divisible by 13. as the application of the rule will show. In 1,870, we
find a number divisible by ni, since 18 and 70 together make 88,
which is a multiple of It; and in 1,872, one divisible by 13, since 9
times I8, or Y62, added to 72, gives us 234, which is divisible by 13.
It may r i ..1 .. : I 1. ;se rules are of no particular
use, since Ih "t ,--i ... ii..; i the smaller numbers may be
as troublesome as the trial of the divisor itself. But they are not the
less interesting as showing not only that "figures never lie," but may
be made to betray their own secrets, and they may be made of use in
verifying computations into which any of the weird numbers to
which they relate enters as a factor. CHARLES HALE.



A VERY, very little boy sends in a little letter this puzzle for other
very little boys to find out. It speaks for itself.


O. I. C. C. R. A. B.


EFFIE.-We cannot share the enthusiasm of those deluded persons
who hoard up defaced and used U. S. postage-stamps, in the vague
hope that a certain large number of thousands of the worthless
things will bring a tremendous price somehow and somewhere. The
postal authorities say that these old stamps are worth simply their
weight in old paper.


MANY boys and girls wrote answers to the question printed in the
March "Letter-Box"-What becomes of the earth which the chip-
munk throws out of his burrow, or that he does not throw out ? The
letters were forwarded to the firm of book-publishers who promised a
volume to the writer of the best answer. These gentlemen, however,
found that two writers equally deserved the prize; and so, although
they had promised but one volume, still, rather than disappoint either in
settling the choice by lot, they sent one to each of the two winners:
Edgar A. Small, Hagerstown, Md.; and Willie W. Greenwood,
Newark, Wayne County, N. Y. The successful answers agree
in saying that the chipmunk carries in his cheek-pouches the earth
dug in burrowing, and drops it at some distance from the hole.
Answers were received, before Mtarch 20o, from N. L. .--
H. Meiriamn-C. Davis-M. L. Willets-I. and W. P. .
M. Keiffe-B. Sauerwein-D. A. Iarrison-W. P. Woodward-A.
Ward-A. M. Gordon-E. K. Ballard-L. Merillat, Jr.-H. M.
Carson-R. E. Carson-S. Casey-R. A. Gally-A. Macrum-K.
L. Spencer-A. Hays-F. E. Harndon--G. B. Hoppin-C. Y. Ab-
bott-A. G. Bull-C. H. Buell-- T. Hudson-S. Hawkins-K. R.
Spencer-N. Granbery-L. H. Foster--S. i,, ..,, E. Leon-
N. Ludlow, Jr.-J. V. L. Pierson-W. A. .. O. Page-
B. Page-M. H. Tatnall-H. R. M. Thom-S. B. Robbins-F. G


Lane-L. H. D. St. Vrain-M. Bunten-C. Du Puy-N. De Graff
-C. A. Horn--C. D. Cook-V. Wilson-C. L. Therrill-B. G.
Goodhue-O. M. Sibley-M. W. H. Thurston-F. W. Porter-L.
M. Cone-S. Vankeuren-H. M. Knapp--E. Dolbear-M. Mensch
-G. Porter-E. L. Caswell-E. Bond-E. B. Halsey-L. B. Tal-
cott-E. Hunt-B. Gortner-E. S. Gilbert-J. F. Hopkins-L.
Byrns-B. L ....-. T ....-..- TT ', .bson-N. Holmes-
L. Hughes- -' ... Robinson-G. W.
Currier-F. .. ..- i.. .... I [- H wkes-J. Trefren-
R. S. Elliott-G. H. Stuart-H. G. Hanna-S. Dauchy-M. A.
Jordan-S. M. Coe-W. T. Mandeville-F. Thompson-C. W.
Lord-J. B. McCoy-A. C. Beebe-W. D. Hulbert-G. B. Adams
-A. L Tucker-L. Frye-L. Weld-W. D. Sammis-G. K. Davol
-L. H. Allyn-J. P. Montross-H. D. Thompson-G. Parks-C.
Bradley-C. Thompson-J. R. Blake-F. B. Warren-E. G. Banta
-N. Holloway-D. Williams-E. Williams-H. J. Koebler-G.
Gifford-C. K. Linson-A. P. Burt-B. AM. L.-S. B. Franklin-W.
E. Owens-M. E. Hotchkiss-E. i.. -'. G. Easterday-M.
Thompson-S. T-T .. .-G. E. T. G T illinder-F. Paul
-E. Hills-K. ...- Wells-H. Bennett-B. H. Williams-M.
L. Fenimore-R. B. Deane--H. Redfleld-L. A. Follett--M. Chap-
man-N. W. B.-B. Jackson-J. Critchett-A. A. Jackson-C. C.
Wright-J. M. Francis-Mina Gomph,-A. Tweedy, of Plymouth,
England.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl elrh a years old. My
sisters sixyears old, and her name is Helen. ake you together.
My oldest sister Susie told me to ask the children what was the
oldest country in the world, she says it is Farther India, Father"
India, you know.-From your friend GIPSiE FRAYNE.

DEAR ST. NICHor.As: We have at our house a fowl which has
changed its color. The first year we had it, it was a bright red color,
the second year it was speckled with white and red, and now it is a
pure white.-Yours truly, W. J. B.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Can any of your readers tell me what is the
only green flower in the world. And what is the name of a little
bell-shaped flower that is first green, but soon ..- .; 1. brown ?
The second has a delicious fruit, something I. ..... -Yours,
W. E B.

Lotis P. B.-A vague outline of land in the Southern Ocean,
near where Australia proved to be, appears upon maps made by Por-
tuguese sailors in A. D. 1542. McCulloch's Geographical Diction-
ary" tells us that the Dutch vessel, "Duyfken," in 1606, sighted
the Australian coast. From Early Voyages to Australia" (edited
by R. H. Major) we learn that Australia was reached by the "Duyf-
ken in March, 1606, and that, about five months later, a ship commis-
sioned by the Spanish government of Peru, and commanded by
Torres, sailed through the strait that now bears his name, and touched
at Australia. It is probable, however, that the Chinese, who seem to
have been ahead in nearly everything else, knew about the "island
continent" long before the Europeans "discovered" it.

ANSWERS were received, before March 2o, from J. Harry Browne
-Anna McEwen-May S. Wilkinson-R. B. Salter, Jr.-John B.
Embick-GC Modle Emnr-Guy T. Trembly-Eliza C. McNeill-
Chas. P. J i.r ..- I F- i. ... "- n Ir.-"Inez"
Ethel A. W.--Gertie ..i. --i 1.... i .1 .i ... T.-Dion
Williams-Graham F. Putnam-- ., ....... i i -i ..,
Boyd-Florence E. T.Clara M. i. i- -Hi.:.. _i .
Skeen- Georgie" -Ben Ames- and Margaret Evcrsher, of
Guildford, England.


CAROLINA M. CALDWELL asks: "Will you please tell me of an
orphan asylum that really needs dolls and picture-books? "
In answer to this, "Aunt Fanny" writes: "The better-known
institutions are well supplied, but there is the Diet Kitchen,' corner
of Ninth Avenue and Thirty-fourth Street, New York, where medi-
cine and food are given to poor babies and children. Only think
how gladly the mothers would take home toys, to amuse the small
sufferers And if your good people are broad-hearted, as we Piot-
estants should be, and do not refuse toys to poor children because
their parents may hold a different religion, there is no charity for
children which needs help of all kinds so much as the Franciscan
Home, at Peekskill. The toys can be sent to their house in West
Thirty-first street, between Sixth and Seventh avenues, next door to
the church. There are eighty children in their country home, and
they are. very poor.


598


[MAY,








THE RIDDLE-BOX.


THE RIDDLE-BOX.


STROKE PUZZLES FOR YOUNG SPELLERS.
I. I ". 1 lil. put a strok. 1.... .l. ne of my letters, and I
become .1 *- 2. I am a i1 .11 add a stroke to one of
my letters, and I become a fruit. 3. 1 am a spacious room; draw a
short line across one of my letters, and I become a command welcome
to the soldier after a long day's march. DYCIE.

A PUZZLE OF PRONUNCIATION.
FoUR parts have I of varied sounds;
The power of -inh7- in me abounds.
My first is felt I above,-
A kind of fear that mates with love;
My second's seen in melting snows;
My third a I1.-- cereal grows;
My fourth i I a cheering cup;
Now tell my whole, or give me up. L.

SQUARE WORD
I. CUNNING. 2. A sharp tool. 3. Blue. 4.Shapes. 5. A ringlet.

EASY PICTORIAL RIDDLE.


WHAT animal is this, and what is the
animal doing? What flowers are
these? What parts of what animal's
head are here ? These three ques-
tions can be answered with one word;
what is the word ?
CYRIL DEANE.


GRANDMA'S ANAGRAM.
THE same eleven letters, naming an old spring-time custom of
New England, are omitted from each stanza.
Ten boys and girls,-a merry ****,-
Long years ago we went a-*****";
Gathering flowers in the lane,
And o'er the sunny hill-side straying.

My memr'y lingers,-well i* **"-
O'er relics of the pas- .
Dried blossoms of that : -
That knew no cloud nor hint of *****

The skies were bright; how could i* ***?
Oh 't was a joyous, blissful **'** *!
S... .., L. sought my love to gain,
.. wed ere time of haying.

We took no wedding tour,-no, no
That custom has of late been gaining;
But we were well content to go
Among the crowd to see ** *'**:* LILIAN.

TANGLES TO UNRAVEL.
EACH of the following examples is formed from a piece of poetry,
the words being misplaced, but otherwise correct. The problem is
to give the work from which the piece is quoted, and to arrange the
words in their proper order. Each quotation is from a well-known
writer, and is but one sentence.
I. Queen o' the stars, and Queen o' the night-winds, mother come


there May be a pass; I 'm the whole of the happy drop of the
meadow-grass, as will seem to them abovheThe rain and they to May
be brighten to be day, and mother, I 'm not upon the livelong go.
II. a bea. .. i 1.. from the country with the name of
something .. ., i I .-. e cowards is cast to the currents of
pale hue rather than have these and the sicklied traveler sweat and
weary, grunt, and thus lose the undiscovered conscience, but we
i. ...i .. this dread bear of pith with life \Vhu
:...I ... .. I .1 i .. ..... notothers after those that would make
their fardels turn o'er to us, all of whose will and moment of action
fly bourn awry-and under no regard of enterprises?
III. yonder the sightless lark becomes a loud and lovelier hue,
Now drown'd in a long blue woodland the living distance rings and
takes the song.
WORD-BUILDING.
EACH of ,1.. i 11 .... ,.. is to be solved by forming a series
of words, .' i... I0. I y adding one letter at a time, and
sometimes changing the order of the letters. For example: the
words tea, tape, prate, tapers, repeats, would form one such series;
ass, seas, seams, sesame, measles, would make another.
I. Inflammable air,
By one letter, with ease,
You may make into clothes
Old and worn, if you please.
These tI ... e.... weet-tasting,
Now I ... i.. manner;
That, next, to a squadron
Of troops with a banner.

II. Frame now for me,
Of letters three,
I A woman, vow'd in single life to live;
Now add one more-
So making four-
And change her to a substantive.

One more to this-
A vowel 't is-
Join, and you 'l get a joining, as I hope
(Ch-_- and add one;
S .. this is done,
You have a messenger sent by the Pope.

III. A knock at the door Then that, in like manner,
I change, if I wish, If you have a mind,
With one letter into To what mourners wear
A long-living fish. Can be changed, you find.


With a consonant now
Make what covers the floor,
And a part of a book
Out of that and one more.


F****S.


GEOGRAPHICAL ACROSTIC.

THE initials name an important commercial city of Northern Eu-
rope, the finals name the country in which the city is situated.
Cross Words: x. An important city of Pennsylvania. 2 A city of
Tr... .. Europe. 3. An island of Africa. 4. A small kingdom of
i 5. A city of New York. 6. A river and bay of New Jersey.
7. A city and bay of Ireland. w. T. iBURNs.

DIAGONAL PUZZLE.
HORIZONTALS: I. An ancient chest. 2. To turn around swiftly.
3. Pertaining to the mountains of a certain small country in Europe.
4. To render linen stiff. 5. Of profit. 6. The chief of a religious
orderof wcm-n ;T^-n-l fr- ;.i, .: i ,. .. 1 Theancient
nameofa .i r I I..1 .

ENIGMA.
IF 1 r cur to foil, Great fear I cause;
I .... and coil My wildness draws,
In never ending toil. From crowds, applause

Down from the hill's hush, -- .--;--- r-ign I hold
Down to the stream's rush, N .. .. 1 i. 1.1 unfold
My lonely way I push. Their tender green and gold.
L. W. H.

SQUARE WORD.
i. A PAIR or support. 2. Part of a fortification. 3. To render fit.
4. A leap, a pickled bud. 5. A sentinel decapitated, an entrance.


r880.]


599


_ ~_


V


'1

,I

'r
..e
,_-


.7
.. pj I -',






THE RIDI


HISTORIC SCENES.
NAME the persons and places mentioned in the following scenes;
and give the dates, where these are known:
I. A venerable man, dressed in a costume of ancient times, holds
in his hand a howl of some liquid which he is about to drink. As he
raises the bowl to his lips, a smile lights up his face; but the persons
gathered about him are shedding tears.
II. In a castle on the banks ot the river Loire, a king of France
is gazing with terror upon the
body of a man just killed by his
order. The king cries: "How
tall he is! He looks taller than B IB.B. -a
when he was alive "
III. A king of ancient times,
unable to untie a very compli-
cated knot, cut ., ... ith--
a blow of his .I l.. he -- -
did that hemight fulfill a certain --
prophecy.
IV. A man, moved by some
deep feeling, is leaning upon a
cross-bow, while a boy runs to
him holding an apple cut in
pieces as if an arrow had passed -_
th ro u g h it.- .
V. A Northman, just made a
duke, and therefore a vassal of
a king of France, presents him-
self to do homage by kissing the -
king's foot according to the law
of the time. Being too proud to
do this, the duke has bidden one
of his warriors perform the act -
for him. But the man, remain-
ing bolt upright, takes hold of
mouth, thus throwing the king "..-
backward.-
v -u .


600


to a ...l.. .. a........ ..,- iIL -'i-'-' : KiliANSWERS TO PUZZLES
ties of the land are gathered ANSWERS TRO PUZZLES
about a group of three persons; -IN APRIL NUMBER.
one of these kneels, his hands
bound; another is in the act of EE SY SQUARE WORD.--.
throwing herself upon him; the b 3Nadir. Adore Doves.
third has swung up above the 4. Irene. Reset.
two a heavy club, which is about i-- DIAsoND -. A. 2. ROd.
to fall. 3. CoCoa. 4. DOe. 5. A.
EASY ENI DIFFICULT DOUBLE ACROS-
EASY ENIG AS. Tc.-Oliver C iT ...:,1-- C.
a a ed Village.
T. My r, 2, 3 is a carriage. fielD, LockE, IgnatiuS, Veron-
,y 4, 5 is to t on fine. My f esE, EasteR, RoberT, GreenE,
7, 8, 9 is to make an effort. OdD, LV, DisraelI, SamueL,
My 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 is a MarvelL, IsabellA, Thin, I-or
useful de. I' My s, 3 is acE. PICTURE PUZZLE.-
unwell. My 4 is a numeral. Moor Room.
y 5, 6, 7 is a* 1 I,'--- B-a-cam r-e Woi -- -.-s.
to a dweller in a Kilimandjar Aarrat.
3, 4, 5, 6, 7 is unlawful. II. 4 A. 4. Atlas s. Alps. 6.
My a, 3 is a luscious fruit. U L., 7B Soliman.
My 4 is a letter which sounds SVNCOPATIS.--. Re-g-al.
like the name of a tree. My 5, -. Me-d-al. s Sa-b-le. 4.
6. 7 is an animal that gnaws. ILLUSTRATION TO BASE-BALL PUZZLE. Ra-p-id. S. T-r-ench. 6. G-
My 8, 9 is a Roman numeral. r-un. METAGRAM.--April.
My So, z2 is a cathedral town of England. My 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, HouR-GLAss.-r. Chair. 2. Ode. 3. D. 4. Ale. 5. Needs.
8, 9, ao, ix, rx is in a metaphorical sense. BURED CrITIEs.-One in each line. Tyre, Leith, Pau, Derby,
Waterloo, Rome, Lee, Ghent, Gath, Agra, Perth, Kew, Stoke,
Sedan, Aden, Ayr., EASY ENIGMA.--Canary.
CENTRAL OMISSIONS, OR SYNCOPATIONS. EASY DOUBLE ACRoSTIC.-Edinburgh-Liverpool. Cross-words,
-EarL, DelhI, IV., NavE, BuckleR, UP, RialtO, GiottO, HoveL.
I. SYNCOPATE a story, and leave an old name for Christmas. 2. NUMERICAL ENIGMA.--April showers. -- RIDDLE.-Chap. I.
Syncopate to beguile, and leave to converse in a friendly way. 3. PICTORIAL ANAGRAMS.--. Anchor. 2. Hawser. 3. Dolphin. 4.
Syncopate a sea-stone, and leave a mineral. 4. Syncopate a mu- Shoulder. 5. Months. 6. Fingers. 7. Eyebrows. 8. Elbows. 9.
tmineer, and leave a kind of dancing. 5. Syncopate a part of new Lobster. so. Trident. sx. Handle. I2. Tails.
"Two little bees" send from Fontainebleau, France, five correct solutions of February puzzles, too late for acknowledgment in April.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NIUMBER were received, before -March so, from H. S. M., x-S. D. C., x-D. L. V., 3-W. R., I
-H. T., 2-H. S. W., 3-H. S. M., 3-E. C. O., 9-R. B. S., 7-A. F. D., I-A. S. W., 8-K. L. S., 7-E. S. B., --" Two Cousins,"
2-G. and IW. H., x-M. B. C., -L. H. D. St. V., 7-F. S. N. B., 8-M, A., i-A. B., ro-S. M., B. W. McK., 8--E. T. C., 2-
G. T. T., 4-A. and H. I., x-O. H. C., --G. and E.J., 2-M. H., I-J. B. L., 5-C. G., so-F. E. P., 8-E. P., 2-N. E. H., I-
W. W. G., x-T. R. and W. H. 2-E. S. B., x-D. and P., 6--M. S., 4-J. C., s-F. T., x-G. S., x-A. M. K., 9-F. E. C., 5-P. B.,
3-E. M. B., 7-" C.," 6-W. and L., 4-" H.," 2-G. L and L. R., -F. McC., x-P. J., 3-W. T. B., 5-H. U., x-B. H. and E. M.,
8-G. L. C., sx-W. D. B., s-A. C. W., 3-L. L. Van L., 7-W. F S., 2-" B.," 4-C. M, T., "o--L. and N. C., 5-0. L. S., Jr., 3-
L. H., 6-"Hallie," 3-A. P. B., s-M. T. K., x-A. G. B., T-D. E. E., 5-W. H. W., 8-W. R. L., 8-" Blankes," i--H. T., 5-A.
E. and E. W., 8-C. A., s-B. J. K., I--. S., 5-W., 3-A. M., 6-S-. S. McI., o-B. T., --V. D'O. S. S., 6-W. B. G., 6-D. L. 3-
i. L. F., --H. and B., --"B. 0. R. hi. C.," 6-R. H. R., 8-"R. and C.," 9-C. H. E., 5-J- W. J., 6 --B. B. 0, s-R. D.,i
H. L. and Co., "B. and Cousin," s-B. H. W., x-M., 2-W. and L., 8-" Riddlers," 4-W. C. McC., 4- G. H., 5-R. A. G., 6-A.
T. H., 7-0. C. T., o--L. P., 3-F. W., 7-C. H. McB., 6--B. C. B., 4-A. A. J., 4-C J. F., 3-A. R., 5-J. E., 4-C. and R. F.,
5-L. G. S., 8-F. D. R., --L. C., 5--M. N. A., 8-E, and J. B. P., 7-A. H. G., 6-H. C. B., 9-M. and C. L., 4--"X. Y. Z.," 2
-L. A. and E. M. P., 4-A. D. R., -E. V., 8-"Hallie," x-A. M. p., 6-0. G. V., 3--M. F. H. D., a1-C. and M. S., 4-" Baraboo,
Xis.," 3-C. B. H.. Jr., i-J. P., 6-J. W. K., 5-C. I. N., 5-W. S. J., 5-H. E. W., 5-C. and G. H... r-O. B. and C. F. J., 7-
H. P. IsI., 7-C & Co., 7--A. L S., 4-B. W., 4--T. B. and J. B. H., 7--and J. S., 4. Numerals denote number of puzzles solved.


)LE-BOX. [MAY.


milk, and leave to crowd and crush. 6. Syncopate sordid, and leave
a kind of meat. 7. Syncopate angered, and leave fifteen hundred.
The syncopated letters spell the name of a flower. E. B. c.

EASY FRENCH AMPUTATIONS.
I. BEHEAD throat, and leave barley. 2. Behead and curtail a
number, and leave a king. 3. Behead punished, and leave united.
4. Behead after, and leave near.
5. Curtail under, and leave a
half-penny. 6. Curtail a French
head a level piece of land, and
leave wool. 8. Behead a camel,
and leave a small village. 9.
Curtail a blow, and leave a neck.
io. Curtail a city, and leave a
--=wager. Io. Behead a large
-- pleasure ground, and leave a
bow. x2. Behead a city, and
leave a bear. j. T. M.

_- BASE-BALL PUZZLE.
=IN the accompanying picture
are represented twenty-three ob-
jects, which, when suitably
-named, denote twenty-three
terms and articles pertaining to
the game of Base-Ball.
T. IM. NUGENT.





















. .. ..




University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs