Front Cover
 Front Matter
 A day off Barnegat
 The Swiss "good-night"
 Roll's runaway
 Shell-screens from Enoshima
 Jack and Jill
 The major's big-talk stories
 A day among the welsh castles
 How Tom Cole carried out his...
 The lesson of walnut creek
 Captain Butterfly
 Small boats: How to rig and sail...
 The new engineer of the valley...
 Song of the mocking-bird
 A talk about the bicycle
 "The queen of the sea"
 The sea-urchins and the wave
 The Fairport nine
 The girls' swimming bath
 The naughtiest day of my life,...
 An old rat's tale
 Cook's story
 Young contributors' department
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: St. Nicholas.
Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 7, no. 11. September 1880.
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00091
 Material Information
Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 7, no. 11. September 1880.
Series Title: St. Nicholas.
Uniform Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 7, no. 11
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: September 1880
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals.
Literature for Children
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00091
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: notis - ocm0176
oclc - 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
oclc - (DLC) 2006255186; 55136171

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    A day off Barnegat
        Page 841
        Page 842
        Page 843
        Page 844
    The Swiss "good-night"
        Page 845
        Page 846
    Roll's runaway
        Page 847
        Page 848
        Page 849
    Shell-screens from Enoshima
        Page 850
        Page 851
    Jack and Jill
        Page 852
        Page 853
        Page 854
        Page 855
        Page 856
        Page 857
        Page 858
        Page 859
        Page 860
        Page 861
        Page 862
        Page 863
        Page 864
        Page 865
    The major's big-talk stories
        Page 866
    A day among the welsh castles
        Page 867
        Page 868
        Page 869
    How Tom Cole carried out his plan
        Page 870
        Page 871
        Page 872
    The lesson of walnut creek
        Page 874
        Page 875
        Page 876
        Page 877
    Captain Butterfly
        Page 873
    Small boats: How to rig and sail them
        Page 878
        Page 879
        Page 880
        Page 881
        Page 882
        Page 883
    The new engineer of the valley railroad
        Page 884
        Page 885
    Song of the mocking-bird
        Page 886
    A talk about the bicycle
        Page 887
        Page 888
        Page 889
        Page 890
    "The queen of the sea"
        Page 891
        Page 892
        Page 893
    The sea-urchins and the wave
        Page 894
    The Fairport nine
        Page 895
        Page 896
        Page 897
        Page 898
        Page 899
        Page 900
        Page 901
    The girls' swimming bath
        Page 902
        Page 903
        Page 904
        Page 905
    The naughtiest day of my life, and what came of it
        Page 906
        Page 907
        Page 908
        Page 909
        Page 910
        Page 911
    An old rat's tale
        Page 912
    Cook's story
        Page 912
        Page 913
        Page 914
        Page 915
    Young contributors' department
        Page 916
    The letter-box
        Page 917
        Page 918
    The riddle-box
        Page 919
        Page 920
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


7 -__ ___ -

_______________IF Ii 1111111 IIIre



[See page 891.]



(Copyright, 1880, by Scribner & Co.]



"YOU needn't tell me," said Paul, decidedly.
"Don't you suppose I know well enough that there
isn't any such thing as a cedar mine? Why, you
stupid, mines are for iron and stone and such
things. Just as if trees ever grew down in the
ground! I thought you had more sense. You
don't know what you are talking about, when you
talk about cedar mines."
Come, now," said Jack, who, sitting on a clam-
basket, had been digging his heels into the sand
and watching Paul with a twinkle in his honest
gray eyes. "Who's lived here the longest?
There were cedar mines off Barnegat when you and
I were n't anywhere and our fathers were babies.
Come along with us, and you '11 see."
"Where is it you're going? Where are the
cedar mines? cried Lotty and Polly, running up
from their little benches in the rock-house near by.
You can't go unless you hem three new sails
for my brig," said Jack's small brother, Jimmy.
"I '11 help," Lotty said, as Polly's face fell. If
you 'll only take us. Where is it?"
To the cedar mines, to be sure," said Jack.
"And to stay all night, too. Cap'n Barlow is go-
ing to have a new surf-boat, just like mine, and
he 's going for just the right kind of log, an' he said
as long as he had n't any freight, he 'd as soon take
some passengers. So I told your grandfather, and
we're all going to-morrow; all except Paul, and
he won't want to, I suppose, 'cause there is n't any
such thing as cedar mines, he says, and it would n't
be worth while to start for nowhere. Now, mind
you, Polly Ben,-three sails to hem, and that pays
your passage. I wish I could earn mine as easy."
I guess you would n't think it so easy if you had
to prick your fingers as many times as I do," said
VOL. VII.-55.

Polly, looking very melancholy. It does seem as
if you might have one boat without hemming the
sails. Why can't they be raw edges?"
"Can't be done," said Jimmy. You never
saw a ship's sails left with raw edges. That's
what girls are for-to hem, and all such things."
"Fudge! said Polly, indignantly. I guess a
girl knows better what she's for than a boy does.
Now, boys always think they know so much, and
try to make girls think they don't know anything."
"Oh, it's because they are boys," said Lotty,
soothingly. "Men wouldn't ever act like that.
My father does n't. Jimmy and Nathan wont when
they 're big. Now, let's hem as fast as we can,
for I 've got to go home to dinner pretty soon."
"Well, but," said Polly, still exercised in her
mind, "I think it 's mean to be always throwing
it up to you that you aint a boy. Just as if you
could help it. I would n't be one, any way,-hollo-
ing so loud, and knocking down everything and
bursting all their buttons off. Now, if I was mar-
ried and had thirteen boys, Lotty,-like Cap'n
Brown; they've got thirteen, and not even a single
girl,-why, one of 'em would have to learn to sew.
I would n't sew buttons on for thirteen every day.
No; I would n't."
For the land's sake, Polly Ben !" said a voice,
and Polly looked up, rather guiltily, to see her
mother, who stood in the door-way. I guess
you 'll never hurt yourself with buttons, nor' any-
thing else. I want you to shell the peas, Polly.
You come along, Lotty, if you want to."
"No; it's 'most dinner-time, and I must go,"
Lotty said; "but I'm coming down this afternoon
to finish the sail. See the boat dance! I believe
Nathan is shaking it."


The children stood still a moment, watching the
boys, who were in a boat near the red buoy. Then
Lotty climbed the bluff and walked on through the
grove to Grandfather Green's, where she found him
busy baking all sorts of good things for the next
day. In the parlor was a tall gentleman with very
long beard and very bald head, who, she found, was
to go with them, and who looked at her over his
spectacles, and said:
"How do you do, little girl?"
Lotty watched him carefully, confiding to Polly
that afternoon that she believed he tied on his
beard every morning, because, how could he have
so much hair on his face and not a speck on his
head except a little fringe at the back? Polly
agreed to find out, if possible, whether Mr. Cross
tied on his beard or not; and when, next morn-
ing, they all met on board Captain Barlow's pretty
schooner, she examined the gentleman so sharply
that he felt quite uncomfortable.
"You must n't stare so," Jack whispered, as the
anchor came up and the sails filled. What's the
"Why, I just wanted to find out if he did tie it
on," Polly answered.
"Tie what on?"
"His whiskers, you know. Lotty thought he
did, 'cause you see he has n't got any hair on his
Jack laughed uproariously, and then stroked his
own smooth chin with a reflective air.
"Just think," said Lotty, suddenly, "how the
mosquitoes will bite him."
"Then he can tie his beard all around his head,"
said Polly. He '11 have to do something when
we get to the swamp. Don't you know, when we
went for salt hay last year, how we tied on our
handkerchiefs and everything? My! How they
did bite Oh, see how we're going! Is n't this
a nice schooner ?"
I reckon," said Captain Barlow, who stood by,
looking with calm pride at the pretty vessel.
"There is n't one in New York Bay can beat her.
Mind the boom there! Look out!"
The strange gentleman, quite unused to boats, sat
near the boom talking earnestly with Squire Green,
who moved away and said, Take care! but not
soon enough for Mr. Cross, who, rising in surprise
that his audience should walk away quietly, had his
hat sent flying, and was pushed down by one of the
sailors as the heavy spar swung over.
I ax your pardon," the man said, smiling,
"but you '11 lose your head, too, if you don't look
out for that jib."
Is it loose? Why don't you faster it?" asked
Mr. Cross, looking forlornly after his hat, which
danced up and down in the water, while Paul

and the other boys rushed to the cabin, where they
could laugh as much as they liked.
When they came out, Mr. Cross's head was tied
up in a red silk handkerchief, and he was talking
earnestly, as before, about cretaceous and triassic
formations, while Paul's father and mother looked a
little as if they would rather enjoy the clear air and
bounding motion through the blue water than
listen to any lecture on geology.
He 's a geologist," said Paul, who had con-
cluded to come, as all the boys and girls knew he
would. "He knows everything there is in the
earth and out of it. It's all he thinks about, and
he 's been at Father and Grandfather every minute
since noon yesterday. It does me good to think
Father has to listen just the way we boys do to a
Just the way you boys don't," Polly said.
" You 'd know a heap if you listened half as hard
as your father. You would n't listen about the
cedar mines."
They 're in sight now," said Captain Barlow,
pointing south. Now, you would n't believe it,
but there 's Barnegat Inlet, where you see that
lbng beach. Well, forty years ago,-an' I remem-
ber it well,-there was what they called the Great
Swamp, quarter of a mile long; yes, more 'n that.
Now, you can't find hide nor hair of it, except at
low water; an' then you jest see the stumps stick-
ing up near two hundred yards from the beach.
That's the way the sea is doing to Jarsey,-crawl-
in' up, crawlin' up, an' there 's no known' where
it '11 stop. In 1824, our folks had six acres o' land
along there, an' now there aint one inch of it to be
seen nowhere. There were salt-works at Absecon,
and now there aint a thing but Absecon Inlet.
Four hundred yards swallowed whole."
"That's the way these cedar-swamps are
made," said Squire Green, who had brought his
camp-stool near the children. "Great forests,
generations ago, came down to the very edge of
the shore, and the sea crept up, gradually swallow-
ing tree by tree, till now, at low water, you can
see the trunks far out from shore. All along this
coast are marshes where thousands of white and
red cedar-trees are buried. Sometimes, roots or
branches stick up and show the spot, but oftener
you must sound for them with a long rod; for they
are covered over with sod smooth as a meadow."
I should n't think they 'd be good for any-
thing," said Paul. They ought to be all soft and
spongy, under water so."
"That's the singular part of it," Grandfather
went on, warming with his subject. There is
some quality in the soil which helps to keep them,
for when it's dry it burns like peat,-the Irish peat,
you know,-about the only fuel they use. These






fellows who make the shingles can tell by the
sound, when the rod strikes a log, whether it's good
or not."
That 's so," said Captain Barlow, who had
come near again. "They 're as keen as wood-
peckers after a hollow tree. It beats me. There 's
Seth Chapin, always been around in them swamps
till I believe he knows every log in 'em. He 's a
heap more dried up than they be. That 's his
ground over there. We '11 anchor about here, and
send you over in the boat."
In another hour the party were on shore, where
only curiosity could have made them stay at all.
Dead tree-trunks were all about, some bleached by

one where the shingle-makers worked on rainy
Some distance on, three or four men were gath-
ered about one spot, and Seth Chapin piloted the
party toward them.
Easy, now," he said, as Mr. Cross, in his eager-
ness, suddenly went up to his knees in water. It
don't do to walk around here very lively, unless you
know the ropes. Now you watch that fellow."
A man in high boots was sounding with a long
iron rod, pushing it down into the mud; and,
presently, seeming to have found what he wanted,
he took a spade and began digging.
It was all standing water here ten years ago,"

f-~ (LI


long exposure, standing white and ghost-like;
others black and grim. Sluggish creeks wound
through them to the sea, and far inland stretched
the Great Swamp, with treacherous green spots
where one sank unawares, and a wild mass of
fallen and twisted trunks. Now and then, in the
waste, one saw the deep green of a cedar, and the
strong salt grass pushed its way everywhere, while
over all danced clouds of mosquitoes, rejoicing in
these fresh and succulent arrivals. Near the shore
was a sort of camp; a hut, where cooking was
done; another, where the men slept, and a larger

Mr. Chapin went on as they watched. But we
cut off all the live timber, and it 's drying off con-
Look at him! He 's smelling of a chip!"
cried Harry. What 's that for?"
So 's to know if it 's a windfall or a break-
down," said Mr. Chapin. "Now, you need n't
laugh, Squire. Could n't tell you how he knows,
but I know, and he does, too, the minute we smell.
A windfall was sound when the wind laid it, but a
break-down came from old age, and they 're of no
'count. What is it, Jim?"




Windfall," the man said, shortly, proceeding
to cut away the matted roots and earth and saw off
the ends, aided by a boy, who suddenly appeared.
Two red-faced men came with crow-bars, with which
they pried underneath; and as the water, always
near the surface here, filled up the hole they had
made, the log rose to the top with as much buoy-
ancy as if it had been a fresh one.
Now, that's a thumper! said Mr. Chapin, as
they all bent forward; and Mr. Cross, forgetting
mud and mosquitoes, seated himself on a stump,
and began counting the rings which showed the
age of the tree.
"That's the biggest one we 've had in a long
while," Mr. Chapin went on, eyeing it critically.
"Mostly, they 're from two to three feet through;
but this one, I should say, was I '11 see."
Mr. Chapin took out a foot-rule and bent over
the trunk.
"Five feet eleven inches. Might as well call it
six. That's an old one. Generally, now, we get
'em-well-about a hundred; but there 's been
trees cut down that was seven hundred years old,
and out of the swamp we 've had 'em a thousand
and more."
"You've got such an one now," said Mr. Cross,
rising up with a flushed but beaming face, and
waving aside a cloud of mosquitoes. "That log has
nine hundred and thirty-six rings! It's an infant,
though, to some that you'll never get, for this
swamp has been thousands of years in forming.
Now, you see here first the common blue mud of
the marshes. Looking at my boots gives you a
clear idea of its character. Two feet or so of that,
and then we have the peaty, cedar-swamp earth;
cedar-stumps bedded in it first; below, gum and
magnolia, and finally hard bottom, the original
earth. I see it with my mind's eye;" and Mr.
Cross shut his visible eyes tight, while Seth Chapin
looked at him with a surprised expression.
"You '11 find a very good idea of it in 'Lyell,'
volume first, thirty-fourth page. Very good idea,
indeed. Borrowed, like other good ideas. Bor-
rowed from Dr. Beasely, who knew the swamps like
his AB C, and took him through them. He is
conclusive as to the age of these bogs."
Well, I 'm not," said Mr. Chapin. I don't go
ag'in' creation, no how nor way, and 't aint likely
these shingles is any older 'n Genesis. That's old
enough for me; and I 'm glad to get 'em any age.
That log, Cap'n? You want to trade for that log?
We '11 talk about it."
Captain Barlow lighted his pipe and sat down,
knowing the talk would take some time, and the
children scattered, some watching the neat, quick
splitting of the lengths into shingles, and the boys
who made them into bundles, while Polly and

Lotty, growing tired of this, went down to the shore
and watched some sea-spiders which had been left
in a pool of water by the last tide. Captain Barlow,
concluded his bargain in time; a one-eyed and
skinny horse drew the log to shore, and it was
towed behind them as they rowed back to the
schooner,-Jack rolling up his trousers and sitting
astride of it.
Once on deck again, Mr. Cross made notes in a
thick, green book of all he had seen, while the
children ran about examining everything, and try-
ing to wait patiently for supper, the savory smell
of which filled the cabin.
The moon rose early, and the dead tree-trunks
about the inlet looked more ghostly than ever.
The sailors gathered on the deck and told stories
of strange sights seen about these shores, till the
children shivered, and were glad that they were not
to go to bed alone that night. Even Mr. Cross
joined the circle, and gave some learned reasons
as to the great improbability that any of Captain
Kidd's money would ever be found, while the boys,
remembering their private search for it the year
before, looked at one another consciously.
At nine o'clock, one of the men brought up two
or three mattresses, and laid them on the deck.
"Oh, Captain Barlow! Am I going to sleep
here ?" Lotty said.
No, ma'am, you 're not," the Captain answered.
' They 're for the men folks. You ladies have my
cabin, and your ma 's there now."
"Oh, do let me sleep here," Lotty begged,
thinking how wonderful it would seem to have those
tall masts for bed-posts.
"No place for gals. They're not tough enough
for outdoors."
I 'm tough," Lotty urged, but was called before
she had time for more begging, and, tired out with
the long day, she and Polly were soon asleep.
Mr. Cross tried one of the mattresses for a time,
but, not liking it altogether, climbed presently to a
place he had seen one of the sailors occupy that
day-the loose folds of the foresail, which had been
hauled in, and made a bed comfortable as a ham-
mock. Here he lay, serenely looking up at the
stars, and at last he fell asleep to dream of new
geological formations; and there he was still when
morning dawned, and Captain Barlow ordered all
sail set for home. Quicker than I can write, the
ropes were loosened, and, as the sails flew out, Mr.
Cross flew too, sprawling wildly in the air, and then
going down in the clear water.
For a moment, the sailors stood bewildered at the
apparition. Then the cry, "Man overboard! "
was heard, and as every one rushed on deck,
Captain Barlow jumped overboard, caught the
struggling man as he came to the surface, and in a




minute more the two were hauled in by the sailors,
who had thrown ropes to them.
You've saved my life," Mr. Cross said, cough-
ing and choking. "What can I do to reward
you ?"
Get some dry clothes and keep away from the
boom," was all the Captain said, as he took him
down to the cabin; and ten minutes later the two

appeared, Mr. Cross looking more eccentric than
ever in a sailor's shirt and wide trousers. The duck-
ing had done him no harm. In fact, the geology
seemed to have been washed out for the time, and
quite a different man showed himself, who told.
stories and made sport generally, till the boys.
shouted, and Polly said it was too bad he could n't
have been ducked the day before.



AMIONG the lofty mountains and elevated valleys of Switzerland, the Alpine horn has another use besides that of sounding the far-famed
Ranz des Vaches, or Cow Song, and this is of a very solemn and impressive nature. When the sun has set in the valley, and the snowy
summits of the mountains gleam with golden light, the herdsman who dwells upon the highest habitable spot takes his horn and pronounces
clearly and loudly through it, as through a speaking-trumpet, 'Praise the Lord God!'
As soon as the sound is heard by the neighboring huntsmen, they issue from their huts, take their Alpine horns and repeat the same
words. This frequently lasts a quarter of an hour, and the call resounds from all the mountains and rocky cliffs around. Silence at length
settles over the scene. All the huntsmen kneel and pray with uncovered heads. Meantime, it has become quite dark.
"' Good-night!' at last calls the highest herdsman through his horn. 'Good-night!' again resounds from all the mountains, the horns
of the huntsmen, and the rocky cliffs. The mountaineers then retire to their dwellings and to rest."

Now somber-hued twilight down the Swiss valley
Her soft, dewy mantle has silently spread,
Still kissed by the sun-rays, how grandly and brightly
The snowy-crowned summits lift far overhead!

'T is the sweet Alpine hour," when the night is descending
To brood o'er the homes where the cottagers dwell;


- '.. -
_-::--L-: :

.~ - ..


And the sweet Ranz des Vaches no ik.. .:. bis 1...1- l-
With silence-'t is evening, the ton'- ..' --

And yet once again the huntsman i: -t.-i
His trumpet-toned horn from its i.:..): ,'.. t i. ..: r .
Hark All the rapt silence its musie: .. l;- -
"Praise the Lord God, evermore --

Clear, sharp and distinct, down the ii -.u -i,'.: ,I : -;li. .. i -' :"
In solemn succession voice answeiI :, -- :--:? '
Till e'en the lost chamois will husl. I,: 0..i-1 L.I. --- I
And the heart of the forest awake .i.. r,. .,,: '

Still higher and higher the anthem ''i ;i-
It rolls like a paean of triumph al-..:.
Till ev'ry grand summit and tall pil- .i' i '. /
While bathed in the smile and t.l II,.Ih I,.(,. ,

0 magical hour! 0 soul-offered .t
duty .
So solemn, instructive, its no- ,
ble refrain; I /
What an exquisite scene, when I i I 1
God's rainbow of beauty i l i
Speaks the language of prom- .li
ise to mortals again! .i

And when all the glory of sun- '
set has faded '
From cloud-piercing heights,' t .-'. .- .:' A :
and the stars twinkle out, 3.. \ '--I
How mellow the echo of Good-
night," repeated
To ev'ry lone dwelling with ,
musical shout! i('r. .: .* ..

The chain of affection to God and each other
So perfectly linking and welding aright:
When fondly the accents-" Hail, neighbor and brother !"
V Melt in the broad air with-" Good-night, friend, g-o-o-d- n-i-g-h-t!"



BY H. L. S. AND M. W., JR.

IT was a bright, crisp morning, and although the
air felt like September, it was really July; one
of those days which it seems ought to belong
to the autumn, but which, by some mistake of the
weather-clerk, has been misplaced. The cool
" off-shore wind, coming from far away up in the
meadows,' scarcely paused as it swept over the
little sand island and rushed boisterously out to
sea, with the force of half a gale."
Any one who was on the alert that morning
might have seen two boys walking along the beach,
one holding a ball of stout cord, part of which
was wound around the body of the other. From
the motions of both the boys and the evident
straining and surging of the line, the observer
might have supposed that they had hooked a large
fish, and, not being able to land it, were content
merely to prevent its escaping. But the principal
fact contradictory to this theory was that the line,
instead of leading downward into the ocean,
stretched upward far above their heads.
If, now, the spectator had continued his search
for the unknown cause of the boys' singular move-
ments, he would have discovered, away up in the
air, a monster kite, now rising, now falling, as the
gusts struck it, and continually surging and sway-
ing on the kite-string, seemingly trying either to
snap the cord or drag the boys into the water.
"Whew Does n't it pull, though !" exclaimed
the younger of the two, who held the ball of twine.
I should say it did," answered the other, as
he felt the quivering line. "Is n't it a pity, Tom,
that we can't make use of that power in some way
or other? It tugs as hard as a young horse. Why
could n't we make it haul a wagon, or a-boat ?"
he added, as his eyes fell upon the little dory that
lay beside the dock, off which his younger brother
Rollin was just plunging.
The idea once in his head, Ernest was not the
boy to give it up without, at least, a trial; so, hav-
ing explained his plan at some length to Tom
(who always eagerly agreed with him), the two
hurried out to the end of the dock, and Ernest,
jumping down into the dory, tied' the kite-string
to a ring in the bow; he then proceeded to make
the stern of the boat fast to the pier with a rope.
Meanwhile, Roll had arrived at the surface of the
water with many sputterings, and, seeing what was
going on, immediately clambered into the dory.
He was a bright, athletic-looking boy of eleven,
but at present his aquatic gambols had tired him

somewhat; so, instead of assisting his brothers vig-
orously, as was his wont, he simply sat down on
one of the seats and asked questions.
The preparations for the trial trip were very
simple, so in the course of a few minutes Ernest
said :
"Now everything's ready, excepting the oars.
Run up to the house and get them, wont you,
Tom ? Do; there's a good fellow "
All right," replied Tom, although, it must be
confessed, somewhat reluctantly, and he started
off, but in a moment turned back again, with:
I say, Ernest, you 've forgotten the rudder,
and I can't carry everything, you know."
Hold up a second, and I'll come, too, then,"
responded Ernest, adding, as he swung himself
up on the dock, "Now, Roll, you sit in the boat
and watch the kite while we 're gone. Mind, and
don't let it get loose or tangled in anything."
"I'll keep an eye on it," answered Roll, as the
two others trudged off through the long, salt grass,
on their way to the house. Arrived there, at first
the oars could not be found, but after a search they
were discovered under the cherry-tree, one broken
short off at the blade by the children in their efforts
to knock the fruit off the branches. Calling for
string, Ernest sat down on the back porch and
patiently began the tedious task of splicing the two
pieces together.
At last, after the rudder had been secured and
they were just ready to start, it was too provoking
to have their mother call them in to take some
lunch, for, as she expressed it:
There 's no telling when you '11 get back from
your kite--. ili rn "
Reluctantly the boys threw down the things they
were carrying and went in-doors, resolved to eat as
little and as quickly as possible; and while they
are thus engaged, let us leave them and go back to
As soon as his brothers disappeared among the
sage-bushes, he lay down in the stern of the dory,
resolved to make himself comfortable until they
It was very cozy in the boat, and as the wind
blew through his tangled hair and on his wet body,
it felt cool and refreshing in the extreme.
Roll lay thus for several minutes, watching the
kite struggle to free itself, and speculating as to
why the boys did not come back. From observing
the kite he began to wonder how it would seem to




be up there where it was, swaying to and fro, and
soaring among the sea-birds..
Thus Roll's fancy soared, and unfortunately for
him, as there was quite a glare in the sky, he shut
his eyes for a few moments, and, as is generally the
case when -people wonder with their eyes closed, he
softly and quietly fell into a slumber, as deep as
tired boys of eleven usually enjoy. It was a sleep
gentle though not dreamless, for in Roll's imagina-
tion he was himself a kite, flying among the clouds,
rushing through space toward an approaching
Nearer and nearer it came, and now he could
hear its roar, when, just as he felt the first splash
of rain in his face, he awoke with a start.
Where was he? What had happened? Poor
Roll, stupefied, instinctively put his hand up to his
cheek. It was wet, not with rain, but merely with
a dash of spray, which the bow of the boat, half-
buried in ,foam, had thrown up in her reeling,
staggering course.
Roll looked around him, but, there was naught
to be seen save sky and water, and over the waves,
far to windward, a blue cloud, lying low on the
horizon, the fast-disappearing land.
And still the dory plunged on, quivering in every
timber, as she fairly leapt from one billow to another.
Far above him was the great kite, rushing through
the air and dragging: the boat through the water
with almost the speed of a locomotive, while from
the stern hung a little end of that fatal rope, which,
truth to tell, was an old one Tom had found on the
Only for a moment or so was Roll bewildered.
Quickly regaining his presence of mind, he realized
his situation, and comprehended that the first thing
to be done was to untie the kite-string. But this he
soon saw was impossible, as the strain on the line had
drawn the knot too tight. Roll felt for his pocket
to get out his jack-knife, but alas since he had
started on this singular voyage in his bathing-suit,
he was disappointed in finding either. To break
such stout cord was far beyond his strength, and at
last the poor boy sat down again almost in despair,
while horrible thoughts of shipwreck, sharks and
starvation kept thronging through his mind.
Thus he was carried along for some distance,
until, when he again got,up and looked about him,
he could scarcely believe his eyes.
The low, blue cloud, instead of being astern as
before, was now directly ahead.
Had the wind changed, and thus turned the boat
around? No; for he would have noticed it
instantly. Roll eagerly peered forward till he was
able to discern, far out at sea on his left hand, a
large ocean steamer inward bound.
Here, then, was a chance of being rescued, if the

people on board could only see him; so Roll
excitedly set to work to find something with which
to attract attention to himself. He was fortunate
enough to discover under one of the seats a large
bunch of dry sea-weed, and, armed with this very
poor excuse for a flag of distress, he stationed him-
self in the bow and patiently waited until the
steamer should draw near.
This vessel was none other than the "Antarctic,"
bound from Queenstown to New York, and now on
her last day out. The passengers were lounging
about the deck in the half-hour before dinner, when
the lookout suddenly reported a sail on. the star-
board bow, whereupon everybody busied himself in
trying to make her out.
Hello, it's no sail at all; it's a huge kite! "
This announcement, coming from a young
Englishman who had been looking through a tele-
scope almost as long as himself, naturally created
quite a sensation; and when, shortly afterward, it
was discovered that not only was there. a boat
attached to the kite,'but that in the boat was a
boy, wildly gesticulating, the greatest excitement
prevailed. The strange combination of boy, boat
and kite was flying along at quite a fair rate of
speed, and coming directly toward the steamer.
Lower a boat! was the order from the bridge,
after a short consultation among the officers, and
the next instant the ship's engines ceased to move.
Give way shouted the second mate, as soon
as the keel of the'life-boat touched the water, and
the sailors bent to their oars with a will, while
their progress toward the dory was watched with
breathless interest from the steamer, although
there was now no doubt as to their overtaking it,
since the wind, which had lately blown with much
force, was going down with the sun.
The iron monster rolled lazily from side to side
in the long, easy swells of the midsummer sea, and
an uncommon silence prevailed along the decks,
which at length was broken by a cheer, as the life-
boat came up to the dory and succeeded in taking
its occupant on board.
The runaway kite-boat was left drifting on
the waves.
Why, the boy's got nothing on but a bathing-
suit! exclaimed the short young man with the
long telescope, as the rescuers approached the
And what a mere child How ever came he
in such a position ?"
Do run, Walter, and get something for him
to put on."
Poor fellow! He must be nearly dead with
cold and hunger."
Such and many more similar expressions were
heard on the "Antarctic's deck, as the boat came




alongside and was hoisted up to its place on the
Roll-for it was no other-looked about him
with a dazed expression, as if he were still asleep in
the dory and this was but one of his dreams. The
passengers were crowding around him, and ask-
ing all sorts of questions, as to who he was,
where he hailed from, and even as to what was the

details of Roll's curious runaway, which, while the
latter was dressing, Walter hastened to recount to
the other passengers, from among whom he had
a large and appreciative audience.
After dinner, Roll, in company with his young
guardian, explored the "Antarctic" from stem to
stern, and when the two came on deck again, at
eight o'clock, the Highland Lights were visible.


latest American news. But here the Captain inter-
posed, and handed Roll over to the care of Master
Walter Lansing, who at that instant appeared on
deck with the suit of clothes for which his mother
had sent him.
This young gentleman, feeling greatly honored
by the trust reposed in him, lost no time in con-
ducting the hero of the hour to his own state-room.
Here he was speedily made acquainted with the

Soon after, the steamer dropped anchor off Quar-
antine, and lay there till early next morning, when
she proceeded up the harbor to her pier in New
York city.
At nine o'clock Roll walked into his father's
office, with his bathing-suit under his arm, and an
hour later he was being kissed, and cried and
laughed over, by mother and sisters, Tom and
Ernest, in the country-house at Mackerel Cove.





BY B. D.

ON going to Japan, one generally lands at
Yokohama, and before the ground seems steady,
his friends make up an excursion to show him the
country, and send him off in a big baby-carriage,
pulled at a trot by a man who can run all day.
This very thing happened to Tom and me. Be-
fore we had been two days ashore, we were sent
off to see the famous little island, Enoshima. With
the easily opened purses of strangers fresh from
the sea, we hired two men for each carriage, mak-
ing light work and a lively run down to the south-
ern coast. We stopped on the way at Kamakura,
for a noon rest, and looked at the famous shrines
and idols there; and later at Katas6, a little vil-
lage near the shore, where a very pagan temple
stands on a hill-side terrace. From the knoll above
it, a broad view of land and ocean is spread out
to the west, where the Hakone Mountains make
a rugged horizon; and over this, great Fujiyama-
the sacred mountain of Japan-lifts his snowy
cone. No wonder that the artists there like so
well to draw and lacquer pictures of his pure white
summit and smoothly sloping sides.
Near at hand, the thatched roofs of the village

lie under shady pines; beyond, a river runs to the
sea between rice-fields; boats are floating down
with its current and sailing out into the quiet
ocean; and, away off on the blue horizon, a vol-
cano is smoking languidly this pleasant afternoon.
Enoshima is opposite us, a short distance from
shore-a little rocky island, with steep cliffs toward
the sea; but on the side toward us is a village in
a sloping hollow, that reaches down to the water's
edge, and from there a strip of sand, that lies
bare at low tide, makes an isthmus to the main-
land. It was by this sandy strip that we walked
across, but as the tide was rising, we had to go
part of the way on a narrow bamboo bridge, where
a few bits of brass were paid for toll. The single
street of Enoshima comes down to meet the bridge,
and just. where they join stands a bronze iorii,-a
gate of two posts, with double cross-bars above,
showing holy ground beyond. All the island is
considered holy, and many pilgrims visit it. We
had a most amusing evening at our tea-house,
struggling with a large dictionary tc translate our
wants: for we were without guide or interpreter.
It was very surprising to find that we could pick



-- ---------- -


out real Japanese words and make real Japanese
people understand us.
The next morning, we took the half-mile walk
around the path over the cliffs. What
should we choose as a memento of th" I.
charming little island? In h.-p ..
open to the street, some smatl I-f.- [-
ing-screens, with shell-work on (l-
panels, seemed fitting and ..i,
carried, and we decided to t -. ,
buy them. How much?" I.il '
been taught us in Yokohari :
but we could not understand .
a word of the answer. Judg- '
ing by its length, the price
must have been very high. '
There was nothing to do i '." -
but pay the old woman ( :
more and more till she
seemed satisfied, and for this -
it took so much that Tom
.and I swore secrecy; we will *
never, never tell how much -
those screens cost us. They
were carefully tied up, pro- OF SHELLS.
tected by a thin board on each
side, and now they have traveled safely through
a long voyage half around the world, and stand
open on the piano in the parlor here at home.

-- n, -..,. ,.-- -. -


Would you not like to make some while you
are at the sea-shore this summer?
There are six panels in our screens, each one a

light wooden frame nine inches high and three
broad. These are hinged by strips of-of-
something woven of thread, but whether to call it
linen or muslin, or cotton or cloth, I cannot tell,
ind. n- m- wife is away, I cannot
find out. Never
.. 2.mind; you
might cut
such hing-
es out of linen tape
S. r any rags that are
-~~- :r,-,r; .:-rn..u -ih, and paste them
" *.:.i [Ih '..... i.n frames. Bright
'', d the same for
(Ic _all the pan-
--, ,x.. els, smooth-
_ -_._ ly extends
.:ross the back
.:. r.he frames; to
,i.. e this neat, the
S- "~ ~r pap should be damped
Sr a sponge to make it
-- :.r.'ind a ItI-. W\\hil-: a i still moist, paste it
to the wood; on drying, it will be smooth and
tight. The shells are to be glued to this
paper, and strong, stiff white glue should be
used; but first it would be well to draw an outline
of the figure they are to make.
Cherry blossoms will be easiest to begin on;
pieces of dried sea-weed will serve for the branches
and twigs; small shells make buds, and five little
shells around a tiny one in the center make a blos-
som; those shown in this picture are enough for
two panels.
Figures of men are more difficult, and the shells
for them will be harder to find. Here is a beggar
hobbling along with a staff-a lame old beggar,
bending over as he walks, or perhaps he is
blind, feeling his way with a stick. His legs and
the stick and the stem of the peculiar plant in front
of him may be made of sea-weed, and several kinds
of shells make his hat and clothes and the "foli-
age"; he is about two inches and a half high.
The ground and the grass are made by marking out
the lines with glue, and sifting black sand over the
paper; it will stick wherever the glue is. Clouds
and mountains can be made at the top of the
frame in the same way, using different colored sands,
and, of course, noble Fujiyama must rise over all.
Now for the curious shell procession shown on
the preceding page: First comes a tall man who
must be very rich, judging by the number and
beauty of his cloaks, and by the elegance of his
hat; and very great, since he is so much taller than
his body-guard; then comes his particular private
and confidential valet, with a splendid, far-reaching
sun-shade; next, two strong soldiers bearing flag






and banner; and, finally, the entire remaining force
with a battle-axe on his shoulder. The shells for
the banners may be stained with carmine ink; sea-
weed makes the flag-staff and umbrella-handle; and
the swords, of which you see each retainer carries

two, must be made of the sharpest sea-urchin
spines you can find. And, now, you have several
pretty panels, that cost little besides painstaking.
But no one, excepting Tom and me, shall ever
know how much we paid for our screens.





Now the lovely June days had come; everything
began to look really summer-like; school would
soon be over, and the young people were joyfully
preparing for the long vacation.
We are all going up to Bethlehem. We take
the sea-shore one year and the mountains the next.
Better come along," said Gus, as the boys lay on
the grass after beating the Lincolns at one of
the first matches of the season.
Can't; we are off to Pebbly Beach the second
week in July. Our invalids need sea air. That
one looks delicate, does n't he ?" asked Frank,
giving Jack a slight rap with his bat, as that young
gentleman lay in his usual attitude, admiring the
blue hose and russet shoes which adorned his
sturdy limbs.
Stop that, Captain You need n't talk about
invalids, when you know Mother says you are not
to look at a book for a month, because you have
studied yourself thin and headachy. I 'm all
right! and Jack gave himself a sounding slap on
the chest, where shone the white star of the H. B.
"Hear the little cockerel crow! You just wait
till you get into the college class, and see if you
don't have to study like fun," said Gus, with
unruffled composure, for he was going to Harvard
next year, and felt himself already a Senior.
"Never shall; I don't want any of your old
colleges. I 'm going into business as soon as I
can. Ed says I may be his book-keeper, if I am
ready when he starts for himself. That is much
jollier than grinding away for four years, and then
having to grind ever so many more at a profession,"
said Jack, examining with interest the various
knocks and bruises with which much ball-playing
had adorned his hands.
Much you know about it. Just as well you
don't mean to try, for it would take a mighty long

pull and strong pull to get you in. Business
would suit you better, and you and Ed would make
a capital partnership. Devlin, Minot & Co.,-
sounds well; hey, Gus ? "
Very, but they are such good-natured chaps,
they 'd never get rich. By the way, Ed came
home at noon to-day, sick. I met him, and he
looked regularly beaten out," answered Gus, in a
sober tone.
"I told him he 'd better not go down Mon-
day, for he was n't well Saturday, and could n't
come to sing Sunday evening, you remember. I
must go right around and see what the matter is;"
and Jack jumped up, with an anxious face.
Let him alone till to-morrow. He wont want
any one fussing over him now. We are going for
a pull; come along and steer," said Frank, for the
sunset promised to be fine, and the boys liked a
brisk row in their newly painted boat, the "Rho-
Go ahead and get ready,-I '11 just cut around
and ask at the door. It will seem kind, and I
must know how Ed is. Wont be long;" and Jack
was off at his best pace.
The others were waiting impatiently, when he
came back with slower steps and a more anxious
How is the old fellow? called Frank from the
boat, while Gus stood leaning on an oar in a
nautical attitude.
"Pretty sick. Had the doctor. May have a
fever. I did n't go in, but Ed sent his love, and
wanted to know who beat," answered Jack, step-
ping to his place, glad to rest and cool himself.
Guess he '11 be all right in a day or two," and
Gus pushed off, leaving all care behind.
"Hope he wont have typhoid; that's no joke,
I tell you," said Frank, who knew all about it, and
did not care to repeat the experience.
He 's worked too hard. He 's so faithful, he
does more than his share and gets tired out.
Mother asked him to come down and see us when
he has his vacation; we are going to have high old

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





times fishing and boating. Up or down?" asked
Jack, as they glided out into the river.
Gus looked both ways, and seeing another boat
with a glimpse of red in it just going around the
bend, answered, with decision, "Up, of course.
Don't we always pull to the bridge? "
Not when the girls are going down," laughed
Jack, who had recognized Juliet's scarlet boating-
suit as he glanced over his shoulder.
"Mind what you are about, and don't gabble,"
commanded Captain Frank, as the crew bent to
their oars and the slender boat cut through the
water, leaving a long furrow trembling behind.
"Oh, ah I see! There is a blue jacket as well
as a red one, so it's all right.

"'Lady Queen Anne, she sits in the sun,
As white as a lily, as brown as a bun,'"

sang Jack, recovering his spirits, and wishing Jill
was there too.
"Do you want a ducking?" sternly demanded
Gus, anxious to preserve discipline.
Should n't mind, it's so warm."
But Jack said no more, and soon the "Rho-
dora" was alongside the "Water Witch," ex-
changing greetings in the most amiable manner.
"Pity this boat wont hold four. We'd put Jack
in yours, and take you girls a nice spin up to the
Hemlocks," said Frank, whose idea of bliss was
floating down the river with Annette as coxswain.
"You 'd better come in here; this will hold
four, and we are tired of rowing," returned the
" Water Witch," so invitingly that Gus could not
"I don't think it is safe to put four in there.
You 'd better change places with Annette, Gus,
and then we shall be ship-shape," said Frank,
answering a telegram from the eyes that matched
the blue jacket.
Would n't it be more ship-shape still, if you put
me ashore at Grif's landing? I can take his boat,
or wait till you come back. Don't care what I do,"
said Jack, feeling himself sadly in the way.
The good-natured offer being accepted with
thanks, the changes were made, and, leaving him
behind, the two boats went gayly up the river. He
really did not care what he did, so sat in Grif's
boat awhile watching the red sky, the shining
stream, and the low green meadows, where the
blackbirds were singing as if they, too, had met
their little sweethearts and were happy.
Jack remembered that quiet half-hour long after-
ward, because what followed seemed to impress it
on his memory. As he sat enjoying the scene, he
very naturally thought about Ed, for the face of the
sister whom he had seen was very anxious, and the

word "fever" recalled the hard times when Frank
was ill, particularly the night it was thought the
boy would not live till dawn, and Jack cried him-
self to sleep, wondering how he ever could get on
without his brother. Ed was almost as dear to
him, and the thought that he was suffering de-
stroyed Jack's pleasure for a little while. But,
fortunately, young people do not know how to be
anxious very long, so our boy soon cheered up,
thinking about the late match between the "Stars"
and the Lincolns," and after a good rest went
whistling home, with a handful of mint for Mrs.
Pecq, and played games with Jill as merrily as if
there was no such thing as care in the world.
Next day Ed was worse, and for a week the
answer was the same, when Jack crept to the back
door with his eager question. Others came also,
for the dear boy lying upstairs had friends every-
where, and older neighbors thought of him even
more anxiously and tenderly than his mates. It
was not fever, but some swifter trouble, for when
Saturday night came, Ed had gone home to a
longer and more peaceful Sabbath than any he had
ever known in this world.
Jack had been there in the afternoon, and a
kind message had come down to him that his friend
was not suffering so much, and he had gone away,
hoping, in his boyish ignorance, that all danger
was over. An hour later, he was reading in the
parlor, having no heart for play, when Frank came
in with a look upon his face which would have pre-
pared Jack for the news if he had seen it. But he
did not look up, and Frank found it so hard to
speak, that he lingered a moment at the piano, as
he often did when he came home. It stood open,
and on the rack was the "Jolly Brothers' Galop,"
which he had been learning to play with Ed. Big
boy as he was, the sudden thought that never
again would they sit shoulder to shoulder, thunder-
ing the marches or singing the songs both liked so
well, made his eyes fill as he laid away the music
and shut the, instrument, feeling as if he never
wanted to touch it again. Then he went and sat
down beside Jack, with an arm around his neck,
trying to steady his voice by a natural question
before he told the heavy news.
"What are you reading, Jacky? "
The unusual caress, the very gentle tone, made
Jack look up, and the minute he saw Frank's face
he knew the truth.
Is Ed-- ? He could not say the hard word,
and Frank could only answer by a nod as he winked
fast, for the tears would come. Jack said no more,
but as the book dropped from his knee he hid his
face in the sofa-pillow and lay quite still, not crying,
but trying to make it seem true that his dear Ed
had gone away forever. He could not do it, and




presently turned his head a little to say, in a
despairing tone:
I don't see what I skall do without him !"
I know it's hard for you. It is for all of us."
"You've got Gus, but now I have n't anybody.
Ed was always so good to me and with the name
so many tender recollections came, that poor Jack
broke down in spite of his manful attempts to
smother the sobs in the red pillow.
There was an unconscious reproach in the words,
Frank thought; for he was not as gentle as Ed, and
he did not wonder that Jack loved and mourned for
the lost friend like a brother.
"You've got me. I'll be good to you; cry if
you want to-I don't mind."
There was such a sympathetic choke in Frank's
voice that Jack felt comforted at once, and when
he had had his cry out, which was very soon, he
let Frank pull him up with a bear-like but
affectionate hug, and sat leaning on him as they
talked about their loss, both feeling that there
might have been a greater one, and resolving to
love one another very much hereafter.
Mrs. Minot often called Frank the "father-boy,"
because he was now the head of the house, and a
sober, reliable fellow for his years. Usually he did
not show much affection except to her, for, as he
once said, "I shall never be too old to kiss my
mother," and she often wished that he had a little
sister, to bring out the softer side of his character.
He domineered over Jack and laughed at his affec-
tionate little ways, but now, when trouble came,
he was as kind and patient as a girl; and when
Mamma came in, having heard the news, she found
her "father-boy" comforting his brother so well
that she slipped away without a word, leaving them
to learn one of the sweet lessons sorrow teaches,-
to lean on one another, and let each trial bring
them closer together.
It is often said that there should be no death nor
grief in children's stories. It is not wise to dwell
on the dark and sad side of these things; but they
have also a bright and lovely side, and since even
the youngest, dearest and most guarded child can-
not escape some knowledge of the great mystery,
is it not well to teach them in simple, cheerful ways
that affection sweetens sorrow, and a lovely life can
make death beautiful? I think so, therefore try to
tell the last scene in the history of a boy who really
lived and really left behind him a memory so
precious that it will not be soon forgotten by those
who knew and loved him. For the influence of
this short life was felt by many, and even this brief
record of it may do for other children what the
reality did for those who still lay flowers on his
grave, and try to be "as good as Elly."
Few would have thought that the death of a quiet

lad of seventeen would have been so widely felt, so
sincerely mourned; but virtue, like sunshine, works
its own sweet miracles, and when it was known that
never again would the bright face be seen in the
village streets, the cheery voice heard, the loving
heart felt in any of the little acts which so endeared
Ed Devlin to those about him, it seemed as if young
and old grieved alike for so much promise cut off in
its spring-tide. This was proved at the funeral, for,
though it took place at the busy hour of a busy
day, men left their affairs, women their households,
young people their studies and their play, and gave
an hour to show their affection, respect and sym-
pathy for those who had lost so much.
The girls had trimmed the church with all the
sweetest flowers they could find, and garlands of
lilies of the valley robbed the casket of its mourn-
ful look. The. boys had brought fresh boughs to
make the bed a green bed for their comrade's last
sleep. Now they were all gathered together, and
it was a touching sight to see the rows of young
faces sobered and saddened by their first look at
sorrow. The girls sobbed, and the boys set their
lips tightly as their glances fell upon the lilies under
which the familiar face lay, full of solemn peace.
Tears dimmed older eyes when the hymn the dead
boy loved was- sung, and the pastor told with how
much pride and pleasure he had watched the
gracious growth of this young parishioner since he
first met the lad of twelve and was attracted by the
shining face, the pleasant manners. Dutiful and
loving; ready to help; patient to bear and forbear;
eager to excel; faithful to the smallest task, yet full
of high ambitions; and, better still, possessing the
childlike piety that can trust and believe, wait and
hope. Good and happy,-the two things we all
long for and so few of us truly are. This he was,
and this single fact was the best eulogy his pastor
could pronounce over the beloved youth gone to
a nobler manhood, whose promise left so sweet a
memory behind.
As the young people looked, listened, and took
in the scene, they felt as if some mysterious power
had changed their playmate from a creature like
themselves into a saint or hero for them to look
up to, and imitate if they could. "What has he
done, to be so loved, praised and mourned?"
they thought, with a tender sort of wonder; and
the. answer seemed to come to them as never
before, for never had they been brought so near
the solemn truth of life and death. It was not
what he did but what he was that made him so
beloved. All that was sweet and noble in him still
lives; for goodness is the only thing we can take
with us when we die-the only thing that can com-
fort those we leave behind, and help us to meet
again hereafter."




This feeling was in many hearts when they went
away to lay him, with prayer and music, under the
budding oak that leaned over his grave, a fit em-
blem of the young life just beginning its new
spring. As the children did their part, the beauty
of the summer day soothed their sorrow, and
something of the soft brightness of the June sun-
shine seemed to gild their thoughts, as it gilded
the flower-strewn mound they left behind. The
true and touching words spoken cheered as well
as impressed them, and made them feel that their
friend was not lost, but gone on into a higher
class of the great school whose Master is eternal
Love and Wisdom. So the tears soon dried, and
the young faces looked up like flowers after rain.
But the heaven-sent shower sank into the earth,
and they were the stronger, sweeter for it, more
eager to make life brave and beautiful, because
death had gently shown them what it should be.
When the boys came home they found their
mother already returned, and Jill upon the parlor
sofa, listening to her account of the funeral with the
same quiet, hopeful look which their own faces
wore; for somehow the sadness seemed to have
gone, and a sort of Sunday peace remained.
"I 'm glad it was all so sweet and pleasant.
Come and rest-you look so tired;" and Jill held
out her hands to greet them,-a crumpled hand-
kerchief in one and a little bunch of fading lilies
in the other.
Jack sat down in the low chair beside her and
leaned his head against the arm of the sofa, for he
was tired. .But Frank walked slowly up and down
the long :ro..ir-, with a serious yet serene look on
his face, for he felt as if he had learned something
that day, and would always be the better for it.
Presently he said, stopping before his mother, who
leaned in the easy-chair looking up at the picture
of her boy's father :
"I should like to have just such things said
about me when I die."
"So should I, if I deserved them as Ed did "
cried Jack, earnestly.
You may if you try. I should be proud to
hear them, and, if they were true, they would com-
fort me more than anything else. I am glad you
see the lovely side of sorrow, and are learning the
lesson such losses teach us," answered their
mother, who believed in teaching young people to
face trouble bravely, and find the silver lining in
the clouds that come to all of us.
I never thought much about it before, but now
dying does n't seem dreadful at all,-only solemn
and beautiful. Somehow, everybody seems to love
everybody else more for it, and try to be kind and
good and pious. I can't say what I mean, but you
know, Mother;" and Frank went pacing on again

with the bright look his eyes always wore when he
listened to music or read of some noble action.
That's what Mary said when she and Molly
came in on their way home. But Molly felt dread-
fully, and so did Mabel. She brought me these
flowers to press, for we are all going to keep some
to remember dear Ed by," said Jill, carefully
smoothing out the little bells as she laid the lilies in
her hymn-book, for she, too, had had a thoughtful
hour while she lay alone, imagining all that went
on in the church, and shedding a few tender tears
over the friend who was always so kind to her.
I don't want anything to remember him by.
I was so fond of him, I couldn't forget if I tried. I
know I ought not to say it, but I don't see why God
let him die," said Jack, with a quiver in his voice,
for his loving heart could not help aching still.
"No, dear; we cannot see nor know many things
that grieve us very much, but we can trust that it
is right, and try to believe that all is meant for our
good. That is what faith means, and without it we
are miserable. When you were little, you were
afraid of the dark, but if I spoke or touched you,
then you were sure all was well, and fell asleep hold-
ing my hand. God is wiser and stronger than any
father or mother, so hold fast to Him, and you will
have no doubt nor fear, however dark it seems."
As you do," said Jack, goingto sit on the arm
of Mamma's chair, with his cheek to hers, willing
to trust as she bade him, but glad to hold fast
the living hand that had led and comforted him
all his life.
Ed used to say to me, when I fretted about get-
ting well, and thought nobody cared for me, which
was very naughty, Don't be troubled,-God wont
forget you; and if you must be lame, He will make
you able to bear it,'" said Jill, softly, her quick
little mind all alive with new thoughts and feelings.
He believed it, and that 's why he liked that
hymn so much. I 'm glad they sung it to-day,"
said Frank, bringing his heavy dictionary to lay on
the book where,the flowers were pressing.
Oh, thank you Could you play that tune for
me? I did n't hear it, and I 'd love to, if you are
willing," asked Jill.
I did n't think I ever should want to play
again, but I do. Will you sing it for her, Mother?
I 'm afraid I shall break down if I try alone."
"We will all sing; music is good for us now,"
said Mamma; and in rather broken voices they did
sing Ed's favorite words:

"Not a sparrow falleth but its God doth know,
Just as when His mandate lays a monarch low;
Not a leaflet moveth but its God doth see,-
Think not, then, 0 mortal, God forgetteth thee.
Far more precious, surely, than the birds that fly
Is a Father's image to a Father's eye.
E'en thy hairs are numbered; trust Him full and free,



Cast thy cares before Him-He will comfort thee;
For the God that planted in thy breast a soul
On His sacred tables doth thy name enroll.
Cheer thine heart, then, mortal, never faithless be:
He that marks the sparrows will remember thee."



"NOW, Mr. Jack, it is a moral impossibility to
get all those things into one trunk, and you
must n't ask it of me," said Mrs. Pecq, in a tone
of despair, as she surveyed the heap of treasures
she was expected to pack for the boys.
Never mind the clothes-we only want a boat-
ing-suit apiece. 'Mamma can put a few collars in
her trunk for us; but these necessary things must
go," answered Jack, adding his target and air-
pistol to the pile of bats, fishing-tackle, games, and
a choice collection of shabby balls.
"Those -are the necessaries and clothes the
luxuries, are they? Why don't you add a veloci-
pede, wheelbarrow and printing-press, my dear ?"
asked Mrs. Pecq, while Jill turned up her nose at
"boys' rubbish."
Wish I could. Dare say we shall want them.
Women don't know what fellows need, and always
must put in a lot of stiff shirts, and clean handker-
chiefs, and clothes-brushes, .and pots of cold cream.
We are going to rough it, and don't want any fuss
and feathers," said Jack, beginning to pack the
precious balls in his rubber boots, and strap them
up with the umbrellas, rods and bats, seeing that
there was no hope of a place in the trunk.
Here Frank came in with two big books, saying,
calmly, "Just slip these in somewhere; we shall
need them."
"But you are not to study at all, so you wont
want those great dictionaries," cried Jill, busily
packing her new traveling-basket with all sorts of
little rolls, bags and boxes.
"They are not 'dics,' but my encyclopedia.
We shall want to know heaps of things, and this
tells about everything. With those books, and a
microscope and a telescope, you could travel around
the world, and learn all you wanted to. Can't
possibly get on without them," said Frank, fondly
patting his favorite'work.
My patience What queer cattle boys are "
exclaimed Mrs. Pecq, while they all laughed. It
can't be done, Mr. Frank; all the boxes are brim
full, and you '11 have to leave those fat books
behind, for there 's no place anywhere."
Then I '11 carry them myself;" and Frank
tucked one under each arm, with a determined
air, which settled the matter.
I suppose you 'll study cockleology instead of

boating, and read up on polliwigs while we play
tennis, or go poking around with your old spy-glass
instead of having a jolly good time," said Jack,
hauling away on the strap till all was taut and
ship-shape with the bundle.
Tadpoles don't live in salt water, my son, and
if you mean conchology, you'd better say so. I
shall play as much as I wish, and when I want to
know about any new or curious thing, I shall con-
sult my 'cyclo,' instead of bothering other people
with questions, or giving it up like a dunce;" with
which crushing reply Frank departed, leaving Jill
to pack and unpack her treasures a dozen times,
and Jack to dance jigs on the lids of the trunks till
they would shut.
A very happy party set off the next day, leaving
Mrs. Pecq waving her apron on the steps. Mrs.
Minot carried the lunch, Jack his precious bundle
with trifles dropping out by the way, and Jill felt
very elegant bearing her new basket, with red
worsted cherries bobbing on the outside. Frank
actually did take the encyclopedia, done up in the
roll of shawls, and whenever the others wondered
about anything,-tides, light-houses, towns or
natural productions,-he brought forth one of the
books and triumphantly read therefrom, to. the
great merriment, if not edification, of his party.
A very short trip by rail and the rest of the
journey by boat, to Jill's great contentment, for she
hated to be shut up; and, while the- lads roved
here and there, she sat under the awning, too
happy to talk. But Mrs. Minot watched, with real
satisfaction, how the fresh wind blew the color back
into the pale cheeks, how the eyes shone and the
heart filled with delight at seeing the lovely world
again, and being able to take a share in its'active
The Willows was a long, low house close to the
beach, and as full as a bee-hive of pleasant people,
all intent on having a good time. A great many
children were swarming about, and Jill found it
impossible to sleep after her journey,-there was
such a lively clatter of tongues on the piazzas, and
so many feet were going to and fro in the halls.
She lay down obediently, while Mrs. Minot settled
matters in the two airy rooms and gave her some
dinner, but she kept popping up her head to look
out of the window to see what she could see. Just
opposite stood an artist's cottage and studio, with
all manner of charming galleries, towers, steps,
and even a sort of draw-bridge to pull up when the
painter wished to be left in peace. He was absent
now, and the visitors took possession of this fine
play-place. Children were racing up and down
the galleries, ladies sitting in the tower, boys dis-
porting themselves on the roof, and young gentle-
men preparing for theatricals in the large studio.




"What fun I '11 have over there! thought
Jill, watching the merry scene with intense interest,
and wondering if the little girls she saw were as
nice as Molly and Merry.
Then there were glimpses of the sea beyond the
green bank, where a path wound along to the
beach, whence came the cool dash of waves, and
now and then the glimmer of a passing sail.

tired, and I do want to be like other folks right
off," said Jill, who had been improving rapidly of
late, and felt much elated at being able to drive
out nearly every day, to walk a little, and sit up
some hours without any pain or fatigue,
To gratify her, the blue flannel suit, with its
white trimming, was put on, and Mamma was just
buttoning' the stout boots when Jack thundered at

S .. -, ,.

S,, ,, ,3 '
C.. '
J.Y, f fT


AF~~r "o ~ :~r


Oh, when can I go out? It looks so lovely, I
can't wait long," she said, looking as eager as a
little gull shut up in a cage and pining for its home
on the wide ocean.
"As soon as it is a little cooler, dear. I 'm
getting ready for our trip, but we must be careful
and not do too much at once. Slow and sure' is
our motto," answered Mrs. Minot, busily collect-
ing the camp-stools, the shawls, the air-cushions
and the big parasols.
I '11 be good, only do let me have my sailor-
hat to wear, and my new suit. I 'm not a bit
VOL. VII.-56.

the door, and burst in with all sorts of glorious
"Do come out, Mother; it's perfectly splendid
on the beach! I 've found a nice place for Jill to
sit, and it 's only a step. Lots of capital fellows
here; one has a bicycle, and is going to teach us
to ride. No end of fun up at the hotel, and
every one seems glad to see us. Two ladies asked
about Jill, and one of the girls has got some shells all
ready for her,-Gerty Somebody,-and her mother
is so pretty and jolly, I like her ever so much.
They sit at our table, and Wally is the boy,




younger than I am, but very pleasant. Bacon is
the fellow in knickerbockers; just wish you could
see what stout legs he 's got Cox is the chap foi
me, though; we are going fishing to-morrow. He
has a sweet-looking mother, and a sister for you,
Jill. Now, then, do come on; I'll take the traps."
Off they went, and Jill thought that very short
walk to the shore the most delightful she ever
took; for people smiled at the little invalid as she
went slowly by, leaning on Mrs. Minot's arm, while
Jack pranced in front, doing the honors as if he
owned the whole Atlantic. A new world opened
to her eyes as they came out upon the pebbly
beach, full of people enjoying their afternoon
promenade. Jill gave one rapturous Oh and
then sat on her stool, forgetting everything but
the beautiful blue ocean rolling away to meet the
sky, with nothing to break the wide expanse but a
sail here and there, -a point of rocks on one hand,
the little pier on the other, and white gulls skim-
ming by on their wide wings.
While she sat enjoying herself, Jack showed his
mother the place he had found, and a very nice
one it was. Just under the green bank lay an old
boat, propped up with some big stones. A willow
drooped over it, the tide rippled up within a few
yards of it, and a fine view of the waves could be
seen as they dashed over the rocks at the point.
"Is n't it a good cubby-house ? Ben Cox and I
fixed it for Jill, and she can have it for hers. Put
her cushions and things there on the sand the
children have thrown in,-that will make it soft;
then these seats will do for tables; and, up in the
bow, I 'm going to have that old rusty tin boiler
full of salt water, so she can put sea-weed and
crabs and all sorts of chaps in it for an aquarium,
you know," explained Jack, greatly interested in
establishing his family comfortably before he left
There could n't be a nicer place, and it is very
kind of you to get it ready. Spread the shawls
and settle Jill, then you need n't think of us any
more, but go and scramble with Frank. I see him
over there with his spy-glass and some pleasant-
looking boys," said Mamma, bustling about in
great spirits.
So the red cushions were placed, the plaids laid,
and the little work-basket set upon the seat, all
ready for Jill, who was charmed with her nest, and
cuddled down under the big parasol, declaring she
would keep house there every day.
Even the old boiler pleased her, and Jack raced
over the beach to begin his search for inhabitants
for the new aquarium, leaving Jill to make friends
with some pretty babies digging in the sand, while
Mamma sat on the camp-stool and talked with a
friend from Harmony Village.

It seemed as if there could not be anything more
delightful than to lie there, lulled by the sound of
the sea, watching the sunset and listening to the
pleasant babble of little voices close by. But when
they went to tea in the great hall, with six tables
full of merry people, and half a dozen maids flying
about, Jill thought that was even better, because it
was so new to her. Gerty and Wally nodded to
her, and their pretty mamma was so kind and so
gay that Jill could not feel bashful after the first
few minutes, and soon looked about her, sure of
seeing friendly faces everywhere. Frank and Jack
ate as if the salt air had already improved their
appetites, and talked about Bacon and Cox as if
they had been bosom friends for years. Mamma
was as happy as they, for her friend, Mrs. Ham-
mond, sat close by; and this rosy lady, who had
practiced medicine, cheered her up by predicting
that Jill would soon be running about as well as
But the best of all was in the evening, when the
elder people gathered'in the parlors and played
Twenty Questions, while the children looked on
for an hour before going to bed, much amused at
the sight of grown people laughing, squabbling,
dodging and joking as if they had all become young
again; for, as every one knows, it is impossible to
help lively skirmishes when that game is played.
Jill lay in the sofa corner, enjoying it all immensely;
for she never saw anything so droll, and found
it capital fun to help guess the thing, or try to
puzzle the opposite side. Her quick wits and bright
face attracted people, and in the pauses of the sport
she held quite a levee, for everybody was interested
in the little invalid. The girls shyly made friends
in their own way, the mammas told thrilling tales
of the accidents their darlings had survived, several
gentlemen kindly offered their boats, and the boys,
with the best intentions in life, suggested strolls of
two or three miles to Rafe's Chasm and Norman's
Woe, or invited her to tennis and archery, as if
violent exercise was the cure for all human ills.
She was very grateful, and reluctantly went away
to bed, declaring, when she got upstairs, that these
new friends were the dearest people she ever met,
and The Willows the most delightful place in the
whole world.
Next day, a new life began for the young folks,-
a very healthy, happy life; and all threw them-
selves into it so heartily that it was impossible to
help getting great good from it, for these summer
weeks, if well spent, work miracles in tired bodies
and souls. Frank took a fancy to the bicycle boy,
and, being able to hire one of the break-neck arti-
cles, soon learned to ride it; and the two might be
seen wildly working their long legs on certain
smooth stretches of road, or getting up their muscle




rowing about the bay, till they were almost as brown
and nautical in appearance and language as the
fishermen who lived in nooks and corners along the
Jack struck up a great friendship with the sturdy
Bacon and the agreeable Cox: the latter, being
about his own age, was his especial favorite; and
they soon were called Box and Cox by the other
fellows, which did not annoy them a bit, as both
had played parts in that immortal farce. They had
capital times fishing, scrambling over the rocks,
playing ball and tennis, and rainy days they took
possession of the studio opposite, drew up the port-
cullis, and gallantly defended the castle, which some
of the others besieged, with old umbrellas for
shields, bats for battering-rams, and bunches of burs
for cannon-balls. Great larks went on over there,
while the girls applauded from the piazza or
chamber-windows, and made a gay flag for the
victors to display from the tower when the fight
was over.
But Jill had the best time of all, for each day
brought increasing strength and spirits, and she
improved so fast it was hard to believe that she
was the same girl who lay so long almost helpless
in the Bird-Room at home. Such lively letters as
she sent her mother, all about her new friends, her
fine sails, drives and little walks; the good times
she had in the evening, the lovely things people
gave her and she was learning to make with shells
and sea-weed, and what splendid fun it was to
keep house in a boat.
This last amusement soon grew quite absorbing,
and her cubby," as she called it, rapidly became
a pretty grotto, where she lived like a little mer-
maid, daily loving more and more the beauty of
the wonderful sea.. Finding the boat too sunny at
times, the boys cut long willow-boughs and arched
them over the seats, laying hemlock branches
across till a green roof made it cool and shady
inside. There Jill sat or lay among her cushions
reading, trying to sketch, sorting shells, drying
gay sea-weeds, or watching her crabs, jelly-fish and
anemones in the old boiler, now buried in sand
and edged about with moss from the woods.
Nobody disturbed her treasures, but kindly
added to them, and often when she went to her
nest she found fruit or flowers, books or bon-bons,
laid ready for her. Every one pitied and liked the
bright little girl who could not run and frisk with
the rest, who was so patient and cheerful after her
long confinement, ready to help others, and so
grateful for any small favor. She found now that
the weary months had not been wasted, and was
very happy to discover in herself a new sort of
strength and sweetness that was not only a comfort
to her, but made those about her love and trust

her. The songs she had learned attracted the
babies, who would leave their play to peep at her
and listen when she sang over her work. Passers-
by paused to hear the blithe voice of the bird in
the green cage, and other invalids, strolling on the
beach, would take heart when they saw the child
so happy in spite of her great trial.
The boys kept all their marine curiosities for her,
and were always ready to take her a row or a sail,
as the bay was safe and that sort of traveling
suited her better than driving. But the girls had
capital times together, and it did Jill good to see
another sort from those she knew at home. She
had been so much petted of late that she was
getting rather vain of her small accomplishments,
and being with strangers richer, better bred and
better educated than herself made her humble in
some things, while it showed her the worth of such
virtues as she could honestly claim. Mamie Cox
took her to drive in the fine carriage of her mam-
ma, and Jill was much impressed by the fact
that Mamie was not a bit proud about it, and did
not put on any airs, though she had a maid to take
care of her. Gerty wore pretty costumes, and
came down with pink and blue ribbons in her hair
that Jill envied very much; yet Gerty liked her
curls, and longed to have some, while her mother,
"the lady from Philadelphia," as they called her,
was so kind and gay that Jill quite adored her, and
always felt as if sunshine had come into the room
when she entered. Two little sisters were very inter-
esting to her, and made her long for one of her
own when she saw them going about together and
heard them talk of their pleasant home, where the
great silk factories were. But they invited her to
come and see the wonderful cocoons, and taught
her to knot pretty gray fringe on a cushion, which
delighted her, being so new and easy. There
were several other nice little lasses, and they all
gathered about Jill with the sweet sympathy chil-
dren are so quick to show toward those in pain or
misfortune. She thought they would not care for
a poor little girl like herself, yet here she was the
queen of the troupe, and this discovery touched
and pleased her very much.
In the morning they camped around the boat on
the stones, with books, gay work and merry chat-
ter, till bathing-time. Then the beach was full of
life and fun, for every one looked so droll in the
flannel suits, it was hard to believe that the neat
ladies and respectable gentlemen who went into
the little houses could be the same persons as the
queer, short-skirted women with old hats tied down,
and bare-headed, barefooted men in old suits, who
came skipping over the sand to disport themselves
in the sea in the most undignified ways. The boys
raced about, looking like circus-tumblers, and the




babies were regular little cupids, running away
from the waves that tried to kiss their flying feet.
Some of the young ladies and girls were famous
swimmers, and looked very pretty in their bright
red and blue costumes, with loose hair and gay
stockings, as they danced into the water and
floated away as fearlessly as real mermaidens. Jill
had her quiet dip and good rubbing each fine day,
and then lay upon the warm sand watching the
pranks of the others, and longing to run and dive
and shout and tumble with the rest. Now that
she was among the well and active, it seemed
harder to be patient than when shut up and unable
to stir. She felt so much better, and had so little
pain to remind her of past troubles, it was almost
impossible to help forgetting the poor back and
letting her recovered spirits run away with her. If
Mrs. Minot had not kept good watch, she would
have been off more than once, so eager was she to
be "like other girls" again, so difficult was it to
keep the restless feet quietly folded among the red
One day she did yield to temptation, and took a
little voyage which might have been her last, owing
to the carelessness of those whom she trusted. It
was a good lesson, and made her as meek as a
lamb during the rest of her stay. Mrs. Minot
drove to Gloucester one afternoon, leaving Jill safe-
ly established after her nap in the boat, with Gerty
and Mamie making lace beside her.
Don't try to walk or run about, my dear. Sit
on the piazza if you get tired of this, and amuse
yourself quietly till I come back. I '11 not forget
the worsted and the canvas," said Mamma, peep-
ing over the bank for a last word as she waited for
the omnibus to come along.
Oh, don't forget the Gibraltars! cried Jill,
popping her head out of the green roof.
"Nor the bananas, please," added Gerty, look-
ing around one end.
Nor the pink and blue ribbon to tie our shell-
baskets," called Mamie, nearly tumbling into the
aquarium at the other end.
Mrs. Minot laughed and promised, and rumbled
away, leaving Jill to an experience which she never
For half an hour the little girls worked busily;
then the boys came for Gerty and Mamie to go to
the Chasm with a party of friends who were to
leave next day. Off they went, and Jill felt very
lonely as the gay voices died away. Every one
had gone somewhere, and only little Harry Ham-
mond and his maid were on the beach. Two or
three sand-pipers ran about among the pebbles,
and Jill envied them their nimble legs so much,
that she could not resist getting up to take a few
steps. She longed to run straight away over the

firm, smooth sand, and feel again the delight of
swift motion; but she dared not try it, and stood
leaning on her tall parasol, with her book in her
hand, when Frank, Jack and the bicycle boy came
rowing lazily along and hailed her.
"Come for a sail, Jill? Take you anywhere
you like," called Jack, touched by the lonely figure
on the beach.
I 'd love to go, if you will row. Mamma
made me promise not to go sailing without a man
to take care of me. Would it spoil your fun to
have me ?" answered Jill, eagerly.
"Not a bit; come out on the big stones and
we '11 take you aboard," said Frank, as they steered
to the place where she could embark the easiest.
All the rest are gone to the Chasm. I wanted
to go, because I 've never seen it; but, of course,
I had to give it up, as I do most of the fun," and
Jill sat down with an impatient sigh.
We '11 row you around there. Can't land, but
you can see the place and shout to the others, if
that will be any comfort to you," proposed Frank,
as they pulled away around the pier.
Oh, yes, that would be lovely and Jill smiled
at Jack, who was steering, for she found it impossi-
ble to be dismal now, with the fresh wind blowing
in her face, the blue waves slapping against the
boat, and three good-natured lads ready to gratify
her wishes.
Away they went, laughing and talking gayly till
they came to Goodwin's Rocks, where an unusual
number of people were to be seen, though the tide
was going out, and no white spray was dashing
high into the air to make a sight worth seeing.
"What do you suppose they are about? Never
saw such a lot of folks at this time. Shouldn't
wonder if something had happened. I say, put me
ashore, and I'll cut up and see," said the bicycle
boy, who was of an inquiring turn.
"I'11 go with you," said Frank; "it wont take
but a minute, and I 'd like to discover what it is.
May be something we ought to know about."
So the boys pulled around into a quiet nook, and
the two elder ones scrambled up the rocks, to dis-
appear in the crowd. Five, ten, fifteen minutes
passed, and they did not return. Jack grew im-
patient, so did Jill, and bade him run up and bring
them back. Glad to know what kept them, Jack
departed, to be swallowed up in his turn, for not a
sign of a boy did she see after that; and, having
vainly strained her eyes to discover the attraction
which held them, she gave it up, lay down on their
jackets, and began to read.
Then the treacherous tide, as it ebbed lower and
lower down the beach, began to lure the boat
away; for it was not fastened, and when lightened
of its load was an easy prize to the hungry sea,




always ready to steal all it can. Jill felt nothing
of this, for her story was dull, the gentle motion
proved soothing, and before she knew it she was
asleep. Little by little the runaway boat slid
further from the shore, and presently was floating
out to sea with its drowsy freight, while the careless
boys, unconscious of the time they were wasting,
lingered to see group after group photographed by
the enterprising man who had trundled his camera
to the rocks.
In the midst of a dream about home, Jill was
aroused by a loud shout, and, starting up so sud-
denly that the sun-umbrella went overboard, she
found herself floating off alone, while the distracted
lads roared and beckoned vainly from the cove.
The oars lay at their feet, where they had left them;
and the poor child was quite helpless, for she could
not manage the sail, and even the parasol, with
which she might have paddled a little, had gone
down with all sail set. For a minute, Jill was so
frightened that she could only look about her with
a scared face, and wonder if drowning was a very
disagreeable thing. Then the sight of the bicycle
boy struggling with Jack, who seemed inclined to
swim after her, and Frank shouting wildly, Hold
on Come back made her laugh in spite of her
fear-it was so comical, and their distress so much
greater than hers, since it was their own careless-
ness which caused the trouble.
"I can't come back! There's nothing to hold
on to! You did n't fasten me, and now I don't
know where I 'm going! cried Jill, looking away
from the shore to the treacherous sea that was
gently carrying her away.
Keep cool We '11 get a boat and come after
you! roared Frank, before he followed Jack, who
had collected his wits and was tearing up the rocks
like a chamois hunter.
The bicycle boy calmly sat down to keep his
eye on the runaway, calling out from time to time
such cheering remarks as All aboard for Liver-
pool! Give my love to Victoria Luff and bear
away when you come to Halifax If you are hard
up for provisions, you 'll find an apple and some
bait in my coat pocket! and other directions for
a comfortable voyage, till his voice was lost in the
distance, as a stronger current bore her swiftly
away, and the bigwaves began to tumble and splash.
At first, Jill had laughed at his efforts to keep up
her spirits, but when the boat floated around a
point of rock that shut in the cove, she felt all
alone, and sat quite still, wondering what would
becomeof her. She turned her back to the sea
and looked at the dear, safe land, which never had
seemed so green and beautiful before. Up on
the hill rustled the wood through which the hap-
py party were wandering to the Chasm. On the

rocks she still saw the crowd, all busy with their
own affairs, unconscious of her danger. Here and
there, artists were sketching in picturesque spots,
and in one place an old gentleman sat fishing
peacefully. Jill called and waved her handker-
chief, but he never looked up, and an ugly little
dog barked at her in what seemed to her a most
cruel way.
Nobody sees or hears or cares, and those hor-
rid boys will never catch up she cried in de-
spair, as the boat began to rock more and more,
and the loud swash of water dashing in and out of
the Chasm drew nearer and nearer. Holding on
now with both hands, she turned and looked
straight before her, pale and shivering, while her
eyes tried to see some sign of hope among the
steep cliffs that rose up on the left. No one was
there, though usually at this hour they were full
of visitors, and it was time for the walkers to have
I wonder if Gerty and Mamie will be sorry if
I 'm drowned," thought Jill, remembering the poor
girl who had been lost in the Chasm not long ago.
Her lively fancy pictured the grief of her friends at
her loss; but that did not help nor comfort her
now, and as her anxious gaze wandered along the
shore, she said aloud, in a pensive tone :
"Perhaps I shall be wrecked on Norman's Woe,
and somebody will make poetry about me. It
would be pretty to read, but I don't want to die
that way. Oh, why did I come! Why did n't I
stay safe and comfortable in my own boat ?"
At the thought a sob rose, and poor Jill laid her
head down on her lap to cry with all her heart,
feeling very helpless, small and forsaken, alone
there on the great sea. In the midst of her
tears came the thought, When people are in
danger, they ask God to save them;" and, slipping
down upon her knees, she said her prayer as she
had never said it before, for when human help
seems gone we turn to Him as naturally as lost
children cry to their father, and feel sure that he
will hear and answer them.
After that, she felt better, and wiped away the
drops that blinded her, to look out again like a
shipwrecked mariner watching for a sail. And
there it was! close by, coming swiftly on with a
man behind it,-a sturdy brown fisher, busy with
his lobster-pots, and quite unconscious how like
an angel he looked to the helpless little girl in
the oarless boat.
Hi! hi! Oh, please do stop and get me! I 'm
lost! No oars, nobody to fix the sail! Oh o !
Please come!" screamed Jill, waving her hat
frantically, while the other boat skimmed past and
the man stared at her as if she really was a mer-
maid with a fish-like tail.




Keep still! I '11 come about and fetch you "
he called out; and Jill obeyed, sitting like a little
image of faith till, with a good deal of shifting and
flapping of the sail, the other boat came alongside
and took her in tow.
A few words told the story, and in five minutes she
was sitting snugly tucked up, watching an unpleas-
ant mass of lobsters flap about dangerously near
her toes, while the boat bounded over the waves
with a delightful motion, and every instant brought
her nearer home. She did not say much, but felt
a good deal; and when they met two boats coming
to meet her, manned by very anxious crews of men
and boys, she was so pale and quiet that Jack was
quite bowed down with remorse, and Frank nearly
pitched the bicycle boy overboard because he gayly
asked Jill how she'd left her friends in England.
There was great rejoicing over her, for the people
on the rocks had heard of her loss, and ran about
like ants when their hill is disturbed. Of course,
half a dozen amiable souls posted off to The Willows
to tell the family that the little girl was drowned,
so that when the rescuers appeared quite a crowd
was assembled on the beach to welcome her. But
Jill felt so used up with her own share of the excite-
ment that she was glad to be carried to the house
by Frank and Jack, and laid upon her bed, where
Mrs. Hammond soon restored her with sugar-
coated pills, and words even sweeter and more
Other people, busied with their own pleasures,
forgot all about it by the next day; but Jill remem-
bered that hour long afterward, both awake and
asleep, for her dreams were troubled, and she often
started up imploring some one to save her. Then
she would recall the moment when, feeling most
helpless, she had asked for help, and it had come
as quickly as if that tearful little cry had been heard
and answered, though her voice had been drowned
by the dash of the waves that seemed ready to
devour her. This made a deep impression on her,
and a sense of child-like faith in the Father of all
began to grow up within her; for in that lonely
voyage, short as it was, she had found a very
precious treasure to keep forever, to lean on, and
to love during the longer voyage which allmust
take before we reach our home.

OH dear! Only a week more, and then we must
go back. Don't you hate the thoughts of it ?" said
Jack, as he was giving Jill her early walk on the
beach one August morning.
"Yes; it will be dreadful to leave Gerty and
Mamie and all the nice people. But I'm so much

better I won't have to be shut up again, even if I
don't go to school. How I long to see Merry and
Molly. Dear things!. If it was n't for them I should
hate going home more than you do," answered Jill,
stepping along quite briskly, and finding it very
hard to resist breaking into a skip or a run, she felt
so well and gay.
Wish they could be here to-day to see the fun,"
said Jack, for it was the anniversary of the found-
ing of the place, and the people celebrated it by all
sorts of festivity.
"I 'did want to ask Molly, but your mother is
so good to me I could n't find courage to do it.
Mammy told me not to ask for a thing, and I'm
sure I don't get a chance. I feel just as if I was
your truly born sister, Jack."
"That's all right; I 'm glad you do," answered
Jack, comfortably, though his mind seemed a little
absent and his eyes twinkled when she spoke of
Molly. "Now, you sit in the cubby-house, and keep
quiet till the boat comes in. Then the fun will
begin, and you must be fresh and ready to enjoy it.
Don't run off, now,-I shall want to know where to
find you by and by."
"No more running off, thank you. I'll stay
here till you come, and finish this box for Molly;
she has a birthday this week, and I 've written to
ask what day, so I can send it right up and surprise
Jack's eyes twinkled more than ever as he helped
Jill settle herself in the boat, and then with a whoop
he tore over the beach, as if practicing for the race
which was to come off in the afternoon.
Jill was so busy with her work that time went
quickly, and the early boat came in just as the last
pink shell was stuck in its place. Putting the box
in the sun to dry, she leaned out of her nook to
watch the gay parties land, and go streaming up
the pier along the road that went behind the bank
which sheltered her. Flocks of children were run-
ning about on the sand, and presently strangers
appeared, eager to see and enjoy all the delights
of this gala-day,
There 's a fat little boy who looks ever so much
like Boo," said Jill to herself, watching the people
and hoping they would not come and find her, since
she had promised to stay till Jack returned.
The fat little boy was staring about him in a
blissful sort of maze, holding a wooden shovel in
one hand and the skirts of a young girl with the
other. Her back was turned to Jill, but something
in the long brown braid with a fly-away blue bow
hanging down her back looked very familiar to Jill.
So did the gray suit and the Japanese umbrella;
but the hat was strange, and while she was think-
ing how natural the boots looked, the girl sud-
denly turned around.




"Why, how much she looks like Molly! It
can't be-yes, it might-I do believe it is cried
Jill, starting up, and hardly daring to trust her own
As she came out of her nest and showed herself,
there could be no doubt about the other girl, for
she gave one shout and came racing over the beach
with both arms out, while her hat blew off un-
heeded, and the gay umbrella flew away, to the great
delight of all the little people except Boo, who was
upset by his sister's impetuous rush, and lay upon
his back, howling. Molly did not do all the running,
though, and Jill got her wish, for, never stopping to
think of herself, she was off at once, and met her
friend half-way with an answering cry. It was a
pretty sight to see them run into one another's
arms, and hug and kiss and talk and skip in such a
state of girlish joy they never cared who saw or
laughed at their innocent raptures.
You darling dear! Where did you come from?"
cried Jill, holding Molly by both shoulders, and
shaking her a little to be sure she was real.
Mrs. Minot sent for us to spend a week. You
look so well, I can't believe my eyes answered
Molly, patting Jill's cheeks and kissing them over
and over, as if to make sure the bright color would
not come off.
"A week? How splendid! Oh, I've such
heaps to tell and show you; come right over to my
cubby and see how lovely it is," said Jill, forgetting
everybody else in her delight at getting Molly.
"I must get poor Boo, and my hat and um-
brella. I left them all behind me when I saw you,"
laughed Molly, looking back.
But Mrs. Minot and Jack had consoled Boo and
collected the scattered property, so the girls went
on arm in arm, and had a fine time before any one
had the heart to disturb them. Molly was charmed
with the boat, and Jill very gladthe box was done
in season. Both had so much to tell and hear and
plan, that they would have sat there forever if
bathing-time had not come, and the beach sud-
denly looked like a bed of red and yellow tulips,
for every one took a dip, and the strangers added
much to the fun.
Molly could swim like a duck, and quite covered
herself with glory by diving off the pier. Jack
undertook to teach Boo, who was a promising
pupil, being so plump that he could not sink if
he tried. Jill was soon through, arid lay on the
sand enjoying the antics of the bathers till she was
so faint with laughter she was glad to hear the
dinner-horn, and do the honors of The Willows to
Molly, whose room was next hers.
Boat-races came first in the afternoon, and the
girls watched them, sitting luxuriously in the nest,
with the ladies and children close by. The sail-

ing matches were very pretty to see; but Molly
and Jill were more interested in the rowing, for
Frank and the bicycle boy pulled one boat, and
the friends felt that this one must win. It did,
though the race was not very exciting nor the prize
of great worth; but the boys and girls were satis-
fied and Jack was much exalted, for he always told
Frank he could do great things if he would only
drop books and go in on his muscle."
Foot-races followed, and, burning to distinguish
himself also, Jack insisted on trying, though his
mother warned him that the weak leg might be
harmed, and he had his own doubts about it, as
he was all out of practice. However, he took his
place with a handkerchief tied around his head,
red shirt and stockings, and his sleeves rolled up
as if he meant business. Jill and Molly could not
sit still during this race, and stood on the bank
quite trembling with excitement as the half-dozen
runners stood in a line at the starting-post, waiting
for the word Go! "
Off they went at last, over the smooth beach to
the pole with the flag at the further end, and every
one watched them with mingled interest and mer-
riment, for they were a droll set, and the running
not at all scientific with most of them. One young
fisherman with big boots over his trousers started
off at a great pace, pounding along in the most
dogged way, while a little chap in a tight bathing-
suit with very thin legs skimmed by him, looking
so like a sand-piper it was impossible to help
laughing at both. Jack's former training stood
him in good stead now; for he went to work in
professional style, and kept a steady trot till the
flag-pole had been passed; then he put on his
speed and shot ahead of all the rest, several of
whom broke down and gave up. But Cox and
Bacon held on gallantly; and soon it was evident
that the sturdy legs in the knickerbockers were
gaining fast, for Jack gave his ankle an ugly
wrench on a round pebble, and the weak knee
began to fail. He did his best, however, and quite
a breeze of enthusiasm stirred the spectators as the
three boys came down the course like mettlesome
horses, panting, pale or purple, but each bound
to win at any cost.
"Now, Bacon! "Go it, Minot! Hit him
up, Cox "Jack's ahead!" "No, he is n't! "
"Here they come!" "Bacon 's done it!"
shouted the other boys, and they were right:
Bacon had won, for the gray legs came in just
half a yard ahead of the red ones, and Minot
tumbled into his brother's arms with hardly breath
enough left to gasp out, good-humoredly, "All
right; I 'm glad he beat! "
Then the victor was congratulated and borne
off by his friends to refresh himself, while the




lookers-on scattered to see a game of tennis and
the shooting of the archery club up at the hotel.
Jack was soon rested, and, making light of his
defeat, insisted on taking the girls to see the fun.
So they drove up in the old omnibus, and enjoyed
the pretty sight very much; for the young ladies
were in uniform, and the broad green ribbons over
the white dresses, the gay quivers, long bows and
big targets made a lively scene. The shooting
was good; a handsome damsel got the prize of a
dozen arrows, and every one clapped in the most
enthusiastic manner.
Molly and Jill did not care about tennis, so they
went home to rest and dress for the evening,
because to their minds the dancing, the illumina-
tion and the fire-works were the best fun of all.
Jill's white bunting with cherry ribbons was very
becoming, and the lively feet in the new slippers
patted the floor impatiently as the sound of dance
music came down to The \\'VI .., after tea, and the
other girls waltzed on the wide piazza, because
they could not keep still.
"No dancing for me, but Molly must have a
good time. You '11 see that she does, wont you,
boys?" said Jill, who knew that her share of the
fun would be lying on a settee and watching the
rest enjoy her favorite pastime..
Frank and Jack promised, and kept their word
handsomely; for there was plenty of room in the
great dancing-hall at the hotel, and the band
in the pavilion played such inspiring music that,
as the bicycle boy said, "Every one who had a
leg could n't help shaking it." Molly was twirled
about to her heart's content, and flew hither and
thither like a blue butterfly; for all the lads liked
her, and she kept running up to tell Jill the funny
things they said and did.
As night darkened, from all the houses in the
valley, on the cliffs and along the shore, lights shone
and sparkled; for every one decorated with gay
lanterns, and several yachts in the bay strung
colored lamps about the little vessels, making a
pretty picture on the quiet sea. Jill thought she
had never seen anything so like fairy-land, and felt
very like one in a dream as she drove slowly up and
down with Mamie, Gerty, Molly and Mrs. Cox in
the carriage, so that she might see it all without too
much fatigue. It was very lovely; and when
rockets began to whiz, filling the air with golden
rain, a shower of colored stars, fiery dragons or
glittering wheels, the girls could only shriek with
delight, and beg to stay a little longer each time the
prudent lady proposed going home.
It had to be at last; but Molly and Jill comforted
themselves by a long talk in bed, for it was impossi-
ble to sleep with glares of light coming every few
minutes, flocks of people talking and tramping by

in the road, and bursts of music floating down to
them as the older but not wiser revelers kept up the
merriment till a late hour. They dropped off to
sleep at last; but Jill had the nightmare, and
Molly was waked up by a violent jerking of her
braid as Jill tried to tow her along, dreaming she
was a boat.
They were too sleepy to laugh much then, but
next morning they made merry over it, and went
to breakfast with such happy faces that all the
young folks pronounced Jill's friend a most delight-
ful girl. What a good time Molly did have that
week I Other people were going to leave also, and
therefore much picnicking, boating and driving
was crowded into the last days. Clam-bakes on the
shore, charades in the studio, sewing-parties at the
boat, evening frolics in the big dining-room, fare-
well calls, gifts and invitations, all sorts of plans for
next summer, and vows of eternal friendship
exchanged between people who would soon forget
each other. It was very pleasant, till poor Boo
innocently added to the excitement by poisoning a
few of his neighbors with a bad lobster.
The ambitious little soul pined to catch one of
these mysterious but lovely red creatures, and
spent days fishing on the beach, investigating
holes and corners, and tagging after the old man
who supplied the house. One day after a high
wind he found several "lobs" washed up on the
beach, and, though disappointed at their color, he
picked out a big one, and set off to show his prize
to Molly. Half-way home he overtook the old man
on his way with a basket of fish, and, being tired
of lugging his contribution, laid it with the others,
meaning to explain later. No one saw him do it, as
the old man was busy with his pipe; and Boo ran
back to get more dear lobs, leaving his treasure to
go into the kettle and appear at supper, by which
time he had forgotten all about it.
Fortunately none of the children ate any, but
several older people were made ill, and quite a
panic prevailed that night as one after the other
called up the doctor, who was boarding close by;
and good Mrs. Grey, the hostess, ran about with
hot flannels, bottles of medicine and distracted
messages from room to room. All were comfort-
able by morning, but the friends of the sufferers
lay in wait for the old fisherman, and gave him a
good scolding for his carelessness. The poor man
was protesting his innocence when Boo, who was
passing by, looked into the basket, and asked what
had become of his lob. A few questions brought
the truth to light, and a general laugh put every
one in good humor, when poor Boo mildly said, by
way of explanation:
"I fought I was helping' Mrs. Dray, and I did
want to see the dreen lob come out all red when




she boiled him. But I fordot, and I don't fink I '11
ever find such a nice big one any more."
"For our sakes, I hope you wont, my dear,"
said Mrs. Hammond, who had been nursing one
of the sufferers.
"It's lucky we are going home to-morrow, or
that child would be the death of himself and every-
body else. He is perfectly crazy about fish, and
I 've pulled him out of that old lobster-pot on
the beach a dozen times," groaned Molly, much
afflicted by the mishaps of her young charge.

"I always wanted to tatch a whale, and this is a
baby one, I fink. A boy said, when they wanted
to die they comed on the sand and did it, and we
saw this one go dead just now. Aint he pretty ?"
asked Boo, displaying the immense mouth with
fond pride, while his friend flapped the tail.
"What are you going to do with him? said
Mrs. Hammond, regarding her infant as if she
had often asked herself the same question about
her boy.
"Wap him up in a paper and tate him home to

IW2- -'


There was a great breaking up next day, and
the old omnibus went off to the station with Bacon
hanging on behind, the bicycle boy and his iron
whirligig atop, and heads popping out of all the
windows for last good-byes. Our party and the
Hammonds were going by boat, and were all ready
to start for the pier when Boo and little Harry were
missing. Molly, the maid, and both boys ran
different ways to find them, and all sorts of dread-
ful suggestions were being made, when shouts of
laughter were heard from the beach, and the
truants appeared, proudly dragging in Harry's little
wagon a dead devil-fish, as the natives call that
ugly thing which looks like a magnified tadpole,-
all head and no body.
"We 've dot him! called the innocents, tug-
ging up their prize with such solemn satisfaction it
was impossible to help laughing.

pay wid," answered Harry, with such confidence in
his big blue eyes that it was very hard to disappoint
his hopes and tell him the treasure must be left
Wails of despair burst from both children as the
hard-hearted boys tipped out the little whale, and
hustled the indignant fishermen on board the boat,
which had been whistling for them impatiently.
Boo recovered his spirits first, and, gulping down a
sob that nearly shook his hat off, consoled his com-
panion in affliction and convulsed his friends by
taking from his pocket several little crabs, the
remains of a jelly-fish, and such a collection of
pebbles that Frank understood why he found the
fat boy such a burden when he shouldered him,
kicking and howling, in the late run to the boat.
These delicate toys healed the wounds of Boo and
Harry, and they were soon happily walking the




little "trabs" about inside a stone wall of their another year, as people usually did who had once
own building, while the others rested after their tasted the wholesome delights and cordial hospi-
exertions, and laid plans for coming to The Willows tality of this charming place.
(To be continued.)


No. VII.


IN the Yelgree forest, near our trading-post,
there was a big snake that had adopted rapid
transit. I saw him when he first learned it. He.
was chasing a small hoop-snake, when the little one
put his tail in his mouth, after the manner of his
kind, and rolled clean out of sight. Well, what did
his big snakeship do but put his own tail into his
mouth, and begin practicing! After a few turns
he grew accustomed to the thing, and in half an
hour could beat the best bicycle time on record.
A few days after this I shot a deer, and was carry-
ing its horns home. As I was passing a few
hundred yards from the Yelgree forest, I saw what
seemed to be a loose wheel coming out of the wood.
It was the biggest wheel I ever saw. I felt almost
as if the polar circle had got loose from its fixings
and was making for me.
"Hoop la!" I cried, and then I shut up, for I
saw it was the big revolving python.
'T was no use shooting at his head, for he was
revolving at the rate of sixty miles an hour; and no

use trying to escape, unless I could hire an express
engine on the spot. So I just lay down to make it
harder for the reptile to swallow me.
When the snake came up and noticed the deer's
horns, he shivered, just as a Christian would if he
saw a horned man! As I lay, they must have
seemed to be growing out of my head, and the
python may have mistaken me for the Old Serpent
himself. Whatever his idea may have been, he had
not ceased shivering before he made tracks for the
forest and let me go in peace.
On my way home I reflected that horned animals
are bad for the health of serpents, which swallow
their prey whole, and that, time and again, impru-
dent pythons and boas have been found dead with
deer all swallowed but the antlers.
"A snake," I said to myself, "that is smart
enough to take a hint in the way of locomotion is
smart enough to take a hint in the way of feeding."
Anyhow, his prudence or his fears lost him a
good meal, for I was fat then. A little learning is
a dangerous thing for snakes.



---------- --


I WONDER what makes the sky so blue;
I wonder what makes the moon so bright,
And whether the lovely stars are born,
Like brand-new babies, each summer night.

And why do they hide when daylight comes ?
I wonder where in the world they go !
Perhaps, when the great, hot sun gets up,
They dry like dew, or they melt like snow.

I wonder what makes the flowers so sweet;
And where do they get their splendid dyes?
And why should some be as red as blood,
And others blue as the summer skies?

I wonder, too,-but so much there is
To puzzle my little head !-and oh,
I doubt if ever I '11 find out half
The wonderful things that I want to know I



I BELIEVE, of all stories written for boys, none
interest them more than those of old castles; and
American boys long for the privilege granted to
their English cousins of roaming over ivy-covered
ruins, climbing lofty towers, and endangering their
necks in all manner of dangerous places. And so
my strong sympathy with this trait in boys leads
me to tell the story of my exploring in two old
castles, whose names ought to be familiar to all
school-boys. But I must first give you a little early
English and Welsh history, that you may know why
these castles were built.
When England became a settled kingdom, with
a number of divisions whose princes, were under
the English king, and whose people paid dues
to him, Wales was one of these divisions, and at
times the Welsh were very troublesome, refusing to
pay dues, or submit to the will of the king. Castles
were built and given to English nobles, to whom
was allowed all the land they could seize from the
Welsh, and the people were oppressed in various
ways, till Llewellyn became Prince of North Wales.
When Henry III., a boy only nine years old, was
crowned, Llewellyn acknowledged him as king, and
for fifty-six years rendered obedience to him as
superior sovereign; but when Edward I. became
king, Llewellyn at last threw off the yoke, and
resisted sturdily. He was finally forced to submit;
but falling in an encounter with an English
knight, his brother David, claiming to be legal
sovereign of North Wales, summoned a council of
Welsh chieftains at Denbigh, a little town in the
north of Wales. They determined to commence

hostilities against the English, but were not success-
ful. David was imprisoned, and this was the end
of Welsh independence.
Wales was united to England, and Edward I.
determined to secure the submission and willing
obedience of its people. It is said he promised
them a prince who could not speak a word of
English. Now, he had a baby-boy who was after-
ward.Edward II.; he presented him as the promised
prince, and, ever since, the oldest son of the Eng-
lish king is called the Prince of Wales.
This little prince lived in Carnarvon, the largest
of the one hundred and forty-three castles in North
Wales, and it is of the beautiful ruin of this castle
that I will first tell you.
It is on a high hill in the western part of Wales;
climbing the hill you come upon a huge mass of
gray stone, with immense towers; on two sides
surrounded by a river, while a moat or ditch pro-
tects the other two. Originally there were thirteen
towers; five have fallen, and the stones have been
carried away by the inhabitants of the town to
build their quaint little houses.
The castle has only narrow openings for windows
on the outside; these are not more than four inches
wide, but the walls are ten feet thick, and these
windows are five or six feet wide on the inside,
the sides slanting close together through the thick-
ness of the wall as they get near the outside, thus
forming a kind of room in each window.
In those days, battles were fought and castles
defended principally with cross-bows and arrows,
and these window-niches furnished standing room






for six or eight men, who in turn discharged their
arrows at the enemy.
It was very easy for them, close to the narrow
openings, to aim carefully at the enemy, but almost
impossible for the outsiders to send their arrows
where they would take effect.
The towers are full of crooked passages and
narrow, stone staircases, with rooms of all sizes and
shapes. Entering the door at the end of the path
and passing up the worn and broken stone steps,
I almost lost my way in dark galleries, where the
chattering of the birds which have appropriated the
deep windows for their nests, and the sound of
my own footsteps re-echoed till I had hardly
courage to complete the ascent. At last it grew
lighter, and I found myself in the open space
between the two smaller towers.
In the center of the main tower, in the good old

and staircases only wide enough for one person to
pass. At the end of each staircase is a door, so
that, granting the enemy succeeded in forcing
passage to the court,-a large oblong square in the
center of the castle,-a single soldier could defend
such a narrow staircase and yet be safe himself.
I suppose boys would climb to the top of the
small tower where the flag-staff stands. I did not
care to, so I went down and began a search
for Prince Edward's room. The old histories say
he was born in the tower, but there are always
people who like to spoil a good story, and these
say he was three years old when brought here.
I like the old story, so I asked a guide to show
me where the prince was born. Entering the same
door, we climbed the steps till we reached the
room in the second story, lighted by the narrow
window to the left of the door. The little square


times, there were five rooms, one above another.
The floors have fallen, and, looking over the inner
wall, I could see only the holes where floor-beams
had rested, and a heap of ruins at the bottom.
Around these central halls, which must have been
lighted by artificial means, were smaller rooms,

window just above it lighted the "confessional,"
a little niche in the wall still holding the receptacle
for h6ly water. This room passed, we went clear
around the tower, till we came through the nar-
rowest of all passages to a room only ten feet by
twelve. This was certainly the room of Queen



4--,;"--' -




Eleanor and the first Prince of Wales, whether he are still to be seen, as is also the end of the leaden
was born there, or brought when a very small boy. water pipe away back in the walls; trophy hunters
Back of the window is a narrow door which opens have carried away as much of it as their arms could
upon a walk upon the walls, called Queen Eleanor's reach. The castle was entered by two gates; the


walk. She could not go outside the castle walls,
and it would not be pleasant for her in the court
with soldiers passing to and fro, and her only exer-
cise out-of-doors had to be taken on this narrow
path. When the walls were in repair she could
walk from this tower to the next, through that to
another wall, and so on around the castle, entering
back of the confessional. I followed the walk a
little way, and was glad enough that I was not
compelled, like the poor queen, to take all my
fresh air on a path two feet wide on castle walls.
This tower, called Eagle Tower, was the strongest
of the thirteen, and for this reason the queen was
placed in it; the next, to the left, was the Royal
Tower, and the enemy would naturally go there to
look for the baby prince. The banqueting hall
occupied the space between the Eagle and Royal
towers, indicated now only by a line of stones left
for the purpose. The kitchens were directly oppo-
site, and the places which years ago held the boilers

king's gate, or general entrance, and one smaller,
but more beautiful, through which Queen Eleanor
first entered Carnarvon. This gate is the most
picturesque part of the castle, being partially in
ruins and-covered with ivy and wall-flowers.
Around the whole were high walls:with towers
at intervals, a part of the town of Carnarvon being
now built within them.
If Carnarvon is the grandest old castle ruin,
Conway is certainly the most beautiful. At the
former there is one large oblong court; the latter
has two square ones, surrounded by lofty rooms
with arched roofs; the entire castle is covered with
a mass of ivy. The grand hall is i30 feet in length,
the roof formerly being supported by eight arches.
The roof and four of the arches have fallen, but ivy
has covered the remaining ones so luxuriantly that,
looking up from the floor,'one can only see a leafy
mass above, with here and there a speck of blue
sky. It is built on a rock, and can be entered by


steps cut into the rock, or by a draw-bridge over
the moat, and up a rambling path. Back of the
castle is a pleasant yard, so that the lady of Con-
way was more fortunate than poor Queen Eleanor.
Conway was built by King Edward I. also, and
he was at one time besieged in it, during a revolt
of the Welsh; he was nearly reduced by famine to
surrender, but at the last moment a fleet arrived
with supplies and reinforcements.
Many of the castles were dismantled -by the Par-
liamentarians in the time of Oliver Cromwell, but
for some reason this was spared,-it is claimed, on
account of its peculiar beauty.

Denbigh has a ruined castle, but it is hardly safe
to explore it, as it was not left for time to destroy,
but was blown up by gunpowder in the time of
Charles II.
But I think boys care less for the history of these
old ruins than for the pleasure of climbing around
them. It is possible that the account of Carnarvon
at least may lead some of you to study enough of
English history so that, when you cross the Atlan-
tic and have the opportunity to see what now you
read of, you will not have to depend upon poor
guides, or spend half your time in hunting up why
and by whom these grand old castles were built.

(Suggested by an incident in the lfe of the late William Morris Hunt.)


WITHOUT, it was wild and stormy: the freshly
fallen snow covered everything with its soft white
garment-the wind howled and roared, as though,
itself uneasy, it intended no one else should rest.
Within, seated before a bright fire, were three
children. Sue was the eldest, very pretty, "but
prim," her brother Tom said. Sally, ten years
old, was the youngest of the three, and was full of
fun, but inclined to be a tom-boy. Tom was
fourteen, and is the hero of this little story. If one
were to hunt the wide world over, he would scarcely
find a more generous, manly boy than this same
Tom Cole. The children had no parents, and at
the time of this story they were living with their
grandfather on Beacon street, in the city of Boston.
As I said, on this particular evening they were in
their sitting-room, talking around the fire-plan-
ning some very mysterious thing, and waiting for
their governess to come in, that she might help
them out of their trouble. When she opened the
door, the children all rushed toward her, talking
and exclaiming all together.
We thought you never would come," said Tom,
at last, as poor besieged Miss Margaret seated her-
self in the large arm-chair they brought for her,
and stretched her white hands toward the burning
But, dear me, if you all talk at once how can I
understand what you are trying to tell? Girls,
let us hear first what Tom has to say said she.
So Tom began: "Well, you know, Marnie,

we've all had lots of fun this winter watching the
poor little Italian who used to grind the organ on
the edge of the Common opposite. I 'm afraid
you wont like it when I tell you what I did;
but one day I went out and spoke to him. I asked
him where he lived, and how he taught his monkey
to play on the violin-for I thought I 'd like to teach
our Charcoal' how to do some of the funny tricks
his monkey did. He said he would show me if I
would go to his house. So, one afternoon, I ran off
and followed him. Marnie, I was awfully scared
when I saw where he was taking me-it was away
down on North street, where there were drunken
Italians and swearing women. Ugh! It was
dreadful! I wont tell you about it-it's too horrid.
I did not go far, it was so bad; so I gave Beppo my
last nickel and came home as fast as I could; and,
girls, I think you were regular bricks not to tell
Grandpa of me. Yesterday, Beppo came grinding
under the window again, and as I parted the
curtains to look at him, he beckoned to me. I went
out to see what he wanted. He said he was awfully
sick, and that he could hardly move, he ached so;
said he had crawled out of bed hoping to make
enough to get some dinner, but it had been a bad
day; no one had given him a penny, and so he had
come to me for a car ticket. Of course I gave him
one, and walked with him to a car, but when it
came along the horrid old driver would not let us
put the organ on the platform, and so "
Here Tom stopped, and blushed fiery red.

SSee "Letter-Box,' page g16.




"Well, what did you do?" said the children and
Marnie in one breath.
"Well,-I-I carried the organ myself," said
Tom, stammering with shame. He had not meant
to tell this part of the story.
Hurrah for you! said Sally, jumping up and
swinging her handkerchief around her head.
Did Beppo wait for you after he left the car ? "
said Sue. "And what did you do down in that
horrid street, where the drunken people were ?
Did n't they laugh at you ? "
I did n't mind it much if they did," said Tom.
"They saw Beppo was sick, but they laughed
at my good clothes. I did n't care, though,-for I
think I felt more like a man, with Beppo's organ
on my back, than I did when I went before, for
then I only carried the idea of learning to train a
monkey. At last we reached Beppo's room. Bah !
It's such a beastly place!" he said, shuddering;
"up five flights of rickety stairs, and there is no
light nor sunshine in the house; in the court-yard
were piles of half-naked children, playing and fight-
ing and yelling. Well, Beppo lay down on a pile
of potato sacks, which he called a bed. I covered
him with my overcoat, and left him.
Now, Marnie, what can we do to help the poor
boy ? He has n't any one to do a thing for him,
and he will die if he is left there much longer. He 's
awfully sick. I know he is. We have not had
much time to talk it over; this morning you had
us at our lessons, and, since lunch, Grandpa 's been
making me read to him such a lot of stupid
stuff! "
Then followed much talking. Many plans were
proposed, but some reason was found why each
one would not work. At last, Marnie said:
"Tom, dear, why don't you take him to the
hospital, and let the city care for him ? "
Oh did n't I tell you," said Tom, "that all
the way down he kept asking me not to take him
there ? He said he was in one once, where they
treated him like a brute. He trembled and cried
when I told him he would have to go there, and said
he would rather die first," he went on, his per-
plexity making his sentences rather jerky.
There 's the dinner-bell," said Sue, "and we
have not decided on any plan yet. We shan't be
together again until to-morrow, at noon, what with
prayers, and practicing, and lessons."
But we can each be thinking of some way out
of it," interrupted Sally, and when we do meet
we will each tell the rest, and then we '11 vote
which plan to take." So they left the fireside for
the dinner-table.
That night the children scarcely slept, so busy
were they trying to find a way out of their trouble,
and when at length sleep did kiss their pillows, it'

brought only dreams of doctors and monkeys,
hand-organs and hospitals.
At noon the three met in the sitting-room, as
they had agreed. Tom was brimming over with
fun, and had all he could do to compose himself
and listen to the girls' ideas.
I 've the best plan of all," he said, only I 'm
going to carry it out first, and tell you about it
afterward," looking very mysterious and import-
ant, while the girls questioned him closely.
You '11 be meaner than dog-pie if you do,
Tom Cole!' said Sally, angrily, and I think you
are very unkind to snub our plan about sending for
a doctor, and then refuse to tell us yours! I don't
think it's a bit fair; do you, Sue ? "
If my plan raises any money, you '1 think I'm
fair enough," said Tom, not wishing to quarrel with
his angry little sister.
That afternoon, immediately after lunch, Tom
left the house and fairly ran to Beppo's room. He
found the little Italian in a raging fever; by his
side was an Irish woman, the mother of many of
the fighting children who were in the court-yard.
Hastily making her understand that he was
Beppo's friend, and wanted to be of some assistance,
the enthusiastic boy began his preparations. He
stripped off his coat, vest, collar and cravat, dis-
playing to the eyes of the woman, who closely
watched him, an old blue calico shirt, torn, faded
and starchless. He quickly got into the shabby
jacket Beppo had taken off, and taking from the
-pokets of his own coat a brimless hat and two odd
boots, he put them on, and then strapped Beppo's
organ on his back. Nodding to the old woman,
he went down the rickety stairs as fast as he could,
-the monkey following unwillingly,-through the
dirty court with its swarms of dirtier children, and
into the street beyond.
Tom turned his steps toward Beacon street,
making up his mind as he walked that he would
play before every house on the street. "If they
only give me three cents at every house, I'll have
quite a fortune by the time I reach home," he
thought, trying to count the number of houses on
the street.
So, plucking up his courage, he slung the organ
around on to its one leg and began to grind out, in
a very jerky way, Spring, spring, beautiful
spring," utterly unconscious that this tune was
hardly appropriate to the season. The monkey
stood shivering on the curb-stone, and dumbly re-
fused to obey the strange voice which bade him
dance or clap the bones. Perplexed at the animal,
Tom became aware that the children had left the
window, that the monkey would not show off, that
he had been grinding out the same tune over and
over again, and that the snow was falling fast.



He began to feel a little discouraged, but, saying
bravely to himself, "Brace up, old fellow," he
began to look for the knob which he knew he must
turn in order to change his tune. He found it at
length, but that did not do him any good, for now he
discovered that he did not know how to use it. Turn
and twist as he would, the organ would play nothing
but Spring, spring, beautiful spring." Provoked
and disheartened, Tom at last sat down on the
curb-stone; his feet were in the gutter, and his
head was buried in his hands; on his back was the
organ, and on it crouched.the monkey, as sorrowful
as-poor Tom himself, who was ready to. cry with
vexation.' What should he do? He could not go
home and tell the girls he had failed in carrying
out:his plan.; -they would laugh at him, and, worse
than all, Beppo would get no relief, and so the poor
boy was very unhappy.
Soon the jingle of sleigh-bells attracted him,
and past him went a sleigh, with two men in it.
They looked hard at him, and Tom fairly trembled
lest they should be friends who might recognize
him, and go to his grandfather with some exag-
gerated tale of his plan to help the poor organ-
grinder. While Tom was watching the men, the
sleigh turned and stopped opposite him. A gray-
bearded man jumped out and said, almost rudely,
to Tom:
"Give me your jacket; now your organ; now
your hat; and, taking off his own coat, he threw
it over Tom's shivering shoulder. A passer-by
would have seen a queer sight there at that minute :
The gentleman in his shirt-sleeves, with the organ
on his back, and the ragged jacket thrown over his
shoulders, while Tom, clothed in an ulster that
touched the ground, stood rubbing his hands
together and looking with wonder at the queer
actions of the gentleman. The gentleman had
taken the organ and monkey under the windows
of a neighboring house, and had begun to play the
same old tune, Spring, spring, beautiful spring."
The frightened monkey stood shivering by, resolved
not to dance for any one but his own master.
When the tune was finished, the pretended organ-
grinder went up the steps and rang the bell.
"Tell Mr. B- that Mr. H- would like to
see him," he said.
The butler at once recognized the familiar face
of the visitor, and hesitatingly said:
But, Mr. H- there is an afternoon recep-
tion, and your clothes "
Then, fearing he had gone too far, he did not
finish his sentence.
"So much the better," said Mr. H- who

was a great painter and an intimate friend of the
family. I will enter the parlors and pass around
the hat." So, hauling the reluctant monkey after
him, he crossed the halls and parlors, grinding as
he went the everlasting tune, Spring, spring,
beautiful spring," and presented himself at the
side of his astonished host. The eyes of the whole
assembly were upon him, and wondering whisper-
ings went around as to what new freak their queer
friend had taken.
Then Mr. H- said, "Well, you see, B- ,
I want some money to help a poor organ-grinder,
who is crying in the cold under your very win-
dows," and pulling off the brimless hat, he inverted
it and said, How much will you put in my hat to
start with?" then, in a most grinder-like way, he
limped and stumbled around the room, presenting
his hat to each one present. The whole party
appreciated the joke, and, humoring the man's
queer freak, as they called it, filled his old hat with
crisp notes.
Leaving the room as suddenly as he had entered,
amid the applause of the guests, Mr. H- de-
scended the steps, gave the boy the money, and,
hastily putting on his own coat and hat, jumped
into his sleigh and drove off, and Tom never saw
him again.
Tom was too happy for words, and, unconscious
of the eyes which were peering at him from the
windows of the B- house, he counted the money
as quickly as his stiff fingers would allow. He
fairly ran to Beppo's room, and flung on his own
clothes in place of those he had worn during his
masquerade, and then started for home.
"Thirty-five whole dollars i"' he exclaimed, as
he entered the sitting-room and tossed the notes
into Marnie's lap.
"Tom Cole, I believe you stole it !"" said Sally.
"Guess I did n't. If you '11 give a fellow a
chance to get his breath, I '11 tell you about it,"
he gasped, as he stretched himself in his favorite
position on the hearth-rug.
With many interruptions from the girls, he told
his story. It was decided then and there that the
thirty-five dollars should be given to their old
nurse, who had left them when Marnie came, and
that she should take Beppo to her home and nurse
him till he got well.
After this was settled, a silence fell on them all.
Each was busy with his own thoughts. Exactly
what they were thinking, I cannot tell; but certain
am I that firelight never danced over four happier
young folk than those who sat on the hearth-rug that
evening enjoying pleasant warmth and home-cheer.




The butterfly's wings of scarlet and gold,
Were as wet as wet could be;
And the butterfly's spirit, once so bold,
Had become quite cowardly,-'ardly,
Had become quite cowardly.

The wind at last, with a terrible roar,
Ran off with the scallop-shell,
And landed the captain high on the shore,
Then blew him safe to the dell, the dell,
Then blew him safe to the dell.

The butterflies crowded around their mate,
And laughed aloud in their glee.
If you 've got to come back," they said, in this state,
We 'll none of us go to sea, to sea,
We '11 none of us go to sea."



MATTIE and Helen Talbot were spending a
whole, long summer at Walnut Farm. Their
Aunt Helen lived there. She was Mrs. Morrison,
and her two daughters, Grace and Anna, were a
little older than Mattie and Helen; but not so
much older that they felt above playing with their
cousins from the city. The four girls were almost
inseparable during the visits that were exchanged
between the families; the Morrisons going to the
city for a month in the winter, and the Talbots
going to the country for a month in the summer.
But this summer Mr. and Mrs. Talbot were in
Europe; and Mattie and Helen had the privilege
of being with their cousins during all the long
vacation. They were delighted, for they enjoyed
country life, and Walnut Farm was a beautiful
place among the green hills, and very near Walnut
Creek, a clear and sparkling stream, on whose
picturesque banks the four girls passed much of
their time.
In all enterprises Mattie was the foremost spirit,
and was recognized as a leader, though she was the
youngest of the party except Helen. Mattie was
an enterprising and ambitious girl, and a brave one,
too; but she had such overweening confidence in
herself that it seldom entered her mind to take any
precautions in case of danger. She had an idea
that courage would carry a person through all
difficulties. A great many young people have this
idea. It is by no means peculiar to Mattie.
And then prudence implied painstaking, and
Mattie did not like painstaking. She did not care
to do anything she had to learn how to do. She
preferred to do things "off-hand," as she expressed
it. She often laughed at her sister Helen, who was
so timid, she did not even pretend to any bravery.

And Helen did not in the least object to being
taught useful things, and especially things that
would help her in taking care of herself.
"I am going to learn to swim," she said one
day, to Mattie, when they were in their own room.
" Grace and Anna can both swim, and they have
offered to teach me, and there is a perfectly safe
place down by the big willows on the creek, where.
I can take my lessons."
"Of course," said Mattie, with a laugh, "you
will choose a safe place; but people don't need to
know how to swim if they are never in unsafe
The safe place is only for the beginning," said
Helen, turning very red, for she was sensitive to
ridicule. "After I know how to swim, I will
venture into deeper water."
"And what good will it do you to know how to
swim ?" asked Mattie.
'"It is a good thing to know how to swim," said
Helen. "It gives one confidence when in the.
I have confidence enough already," said
Mattie, loftily.
"And then," continued Helen, "you know
Uncle John often takes us out in the boat, and I
might fall overboard some time, and then think
what a splendid thing to know how to swim "
"You will never fall out of the boat," said
Mattie; "you are too careful of yourself for that.
You wont even paddle in the water with both
"No," said Helen; "I have to lean over too
much.to do that; and, if I should lose my bal-
ance, I should have no hand to steady myself with.
One hand is all I dare put in the water at a time."




There is not a particle of use in your learning
to swim," said Mattie, with a scornful laugh.
But Helen, though she shrank from ridicule,
did not easily give up a point, and she did learn
to swim.
When Mattie saw that Helen was in earnest,
she took a few lessons herself, partly because she
thought there might be some fun in it, and partly
to give Helen more confidence. But she soon grew
tired of it. It seemed to her to be tame sport, as
the Morrison girls taught it, for they were not at all
reckless,-they themselves had been too carefully
trained for that,-and she found she had to take a
good deal of trouble to learn to swim properly.
And so she contented herself with taking care of
Helen while swimming," as she said.
As all that Mattie did on these occasions was to


' ,** ,,,, I '


sit on the shaded bank of the stream, and watch
Helen put on her bathing-dress, and look at her
as she plunged into some deep hole for a swim,
and as Mattie could not swim, it was difficult to
see what help she could possibly be to her sister.
But Mattie firmly believed that she was taking
excellent care of Helen. She was accustomed to
feel that she ought to lead and take care of people.
One day, when the four girls were rambling
through the woods along the bank of the creek,
Grace said:
"Mattie, I don't believe you and Helen have
ever been to the cave."
"What cave ?" cried both girls, in a breath.
"The cave at Bear Spring, on the other side of
the creek," said Grace.



'"I hope there are no bears there! exclaimed
The other girls laughed.
There have been no bears there for at least a
hundred years," said Anna.
"I only wish we could see one," said Mattie;
"it would be a splendid sight. A bear in his
native woods! "
"I should like to be sure," said Grace, "that
he could not get at me, or I should not enjoy the
I should n't like it, any way," said Helen. I
am afraid to look at wild beasts in cages; I can't
help thinking, What if they should get out?"
"Poor child!" said Mattie, pityingly, laying
her hand on Helen's shoulder. "How unhappy
it must make you to be forever afraid of every-
thing "
I have often wished I was brave like
you," said Helen, looking up at her sister
with admiring eyes.
"But Helen is not unhappy," interposed
Grace. "I think she is the merriest one
of our party."
"And she is not afraid of everything,
Sby any means," added Anna, kindly.
S I am not at all unhappy," said Helen,
-- "but I am timid. There is no doubt about
that, for everybody says so. I am not
S. brave, but then, you know, hardly ever
S anything happens to be afraid of. But
what is this cave ? I never heard of it be-
"' It is a deep hole that runs 'way back
-- into a rock," explained Anna. "It makes
a sort of room that a tall man can't stand
j' up straight in; but we can. It is cold and
- horrid in there, and people say bears used
to live in it. But the most beautiful
mosses grow around that cave you ever saw
in your life."
"Oh, we iuust go there cried Helen in a
Of course we will go !" said Mattie, with her
usual decision.
"I don't know about .that," said the prudent
Anna. "It is a very hot day, and the bridge is a
mile down the creek, and, part of the way, there
is no shade. We had better wait for a cooler
We can ford the creek," said Mattie. There
is not the least use in l.r,, away down to the
Ford the creek cried Grace. I never did
that in my life. I have waded along the banks
many a time, but I never dared to wade across it."
It is easy enough," said Mattie, carelessly.


" There is a place I know well, not a quarter of a
mile down, where I can see the bottom clear across
to the other side."
Brother Tom and Joe Briggs wade across,"
said Anna; but I don't know just where."
"Of course, they do," said Grace; "but they

The four girls were soon in the stream, tripping
gayly along, Mattie, of course, leading the way,
They arrived, without any adventure, at the pine-
tree, where another consultation was held. Here
was one of the narrowest parts of the creek; but
the statement Mattie had made, that she could


are boys, and, besides, they know the dangerous
places, and we don't."
"I don't believe there are any dangerous places,"
said Mattie, deciding the question very promptly.
"Don't let us go, if there is the least danger,"
pleaded Helen, seeing that Mattie was proceeding
to take off her shoes and stockings.
"Don't be silly, Helen," said Mattie. "Can't
you trust me? I know the exact spot, I tell you,
where we can cross safely, and if you will just
follow me, you will be all right."
I am very much afraid it is not safe fording,
Mattie," said Grace, who, as the eldest of the
party, felt in a measure responsible for the others.
"But I tell you it is safe persisted Mattie.
Are you sure ? asked Anna.
"I am sure!" said Mattie, emphatically. "You
are not afraid to wade, near the bank, from this
place to the old pine-tree, are you ? "
All agreed there could be no danger.
"Very well," said Mattie. We will all wade
down to the old pine. It will be cool and pleasant
to go through the water under the trees. Then we
can decide upon crossing the creek, for the shallow
place runs right across from that old pine."

"see the bottom clear across to the other side,"
was found not to be correct. She had not intended
to tell anything that was not true; but when
people make such very positive assertions about
matters that they have not very carefully studied,
they are not apt to hit the exact truth. However,
though the girls could not "see the bottom clear
across," a number of rocks and stones showed
above the surface, scattered along the whole dis-
tance. This appeared to indicate shallow water.
Grace and Anna hesitated. They acknowledged
that there were places where the boys waded across,
and this looked as if it might be one of those
places. Helen alone gave it as her decided
opinion that they had better stay where they were.
"What a coward you are, Helen said Mattie,
impatiently. If you are so timid, you can stay
here. And if you are all afraid, I will go alone. I
am so thankful I am not a coward "
So saying, she turned her face toward the oppo-
site bank, and stepped boldly out into the stream.
Helen followed, at a little distance, as she was
almost sure to do when Mattie had fully determined
upon carrying out any adventure. Grace and
Anna also followed, some distance behind Helen.




Mattie picked her way along with very little
difficulty, and splashed through the water, which
was not half up to her knees, quite proud of her
bold and adventurous spirit. When she had waded
about a third of the way across, she turned, and
taking off her hat waved it to her companions as
a signal of triumph.
Then she turned to proceed on her way; but,
just at that place, the bottom of the creek suddenly
shelved down to a considerable depth. In her
excitement she did not perceive this; her feet
slipped, and down she went into the current, which
swept her irresistibly along.
For an instant, Helen was terror-stricken at this
catastrophe. She seemed to have neither thought
nor feeling. Then there rushed into her mind the
awful thought that there was no help near; and
then another awful thought, that Mattie could not
swim. In another instant, she was dashing down
the stream, through the shallow water in which she
was standing when Mattie fell. She succeeded in
reaching a point below the drifting form of Mattie;
and springing into the deep water, and swimming
out to her sister, was able to seize her, and, with
great exertion, to push and pull her along until
they were in such shallow water that Mattie could
struggle upon her feet. Then she was safe.
This had passed so quickly that Grace and Anna
had scarcely time to be frightened at Mattie'sbeiig
swept into the stream when they saw Helen plunge

S-. -. t J -

/ L-,,--

in to the rescue; and, directly after, were relieved
to see them in the shallow water.
When the girls had started to cross the creek,
they had tied their stockings and shoes around their
necks, so that they could have the use of both
hands, and when Mattie and Helen reached the
bank the shoes were still swinging at the ends of the
long, wet stockings. The shoes were very wet,
too, but they managed to get them on their feet;
and then Grace and Anna would not let them rest
another minute, but hurried them home as fast as
they could go, for fear that, all dripping as they
were, they would take cold and be sick.
Their aunt made them go to bed, and gave
them hot drinks. After the excitement was over,
and the two girls had been lying quiet for some
time, Mattie said: "Helen, are you asleep?"
"No," said Helen.
"I am very thankful that you learned to swim."
"It was a good thing," said Helen, sleepily.
Helen !" called Mattie again, after a while.
"Well?" said Helen.
"I will never call you a coward again. You'are
a brave girl."
This was all Mattie said, but she was thinking
deeply for some time after Helen "was fast asleep.
It is probable that she had learned the lesson that
bravery without knowledge is not worth much; and
that true confidence in one's self should come from
proper training and study.



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







HE was tired of the farm, this butterfly gay,
And wanted to go to sea,
So he rigged him a boat and sailed away,-
Oh, as proud as a king was he, was he,
As proud as a king was he!

The butterfly's boat was a scallop-shell
Which he found upon the shore,
And he thought the craft would do very well,
For he 'd never been out before, before,
For he 'd never been out before.

A spider spun him a web for a sail,
'T was as fine as fine could be,
And the helm was a quill from an eagle's tail,
And a captain gay was he, was he,
And a captain gay was he.

The heavens were blue, and the sea was calm,
The wind blew fresh from the south,
And be thought of the butterflies on the farm
With a smile about his mouth, his mouth,
With a smile about his mouth.
VOL. VII.-57.

" Oh how lovely this is!" again and again
To himself he laughingly said.
" Why, to flutter all day in a country lane,
'T were just as well to be dead, be dead,
'T were just as well to be dead."

In his haste he had never once thought of food,
And now he was out to sea.
No pollen was near, nor anything good,
I am starving to death!" said he, said he,
"I am starving to death," said he.

He began to be ill, as the sea, so calm,
Was lashed by a gale from the south;
And his smile, as he thought of the woods and
Was the other side of his mouth, his mouth,
Was the other side of his mouth.

" Oh! what shall I do?" he cried, in despair.
"No captain should leave his ship !
But if I could see the shore anywhere,
I would give this craft the slip, the slip,
I would give this craft the slip."

_ I







ERY many persons and had reason to consider themselves lucky for
seem to ignore having gotten off so cheaply.
the fact that a boy The general principles of sailing are as simple as
who knows how to the national game of one ole cat." That is to
manage a gun is, say, if the wind always blew moderately and
upon the whole, less steadily, it would be as easy and as safe to sail a
likely to be shot boat as it is to drive a steady old family horse of
than one who is a good and regular habits. The fact, however, is
Sbunglerthrough ig- that winds and currents are variable in their moods,
norance, or that a and as capable of unexpected freaks as the most
S good swimmer is fiery of unbroken colts, but when properly watched
less likely to be and humored they are tractable and fascinating
S drowned than a playmates and servants.
poor one. Such, Now, let us come right down to first principles.
however,isthetruth Take a bit of pine board, sharpen it at one end,
beyond question, set up a mast about a quarter of the length of the
If a skilled sportsman is now and then shot, or an whole piece from the bow, fit on a square piece of
expert swimmer drowned, the fault is not apt to be stiff paper or card for a sail, and you are ready for
his own, and if the one who is really to blame had action. Put this in the water, with the sail set
received proper training, it is not likely that the squarely across (A, Fig. i), and she will run off
accident would have occurred at all. The same before the wind,-which is supposed to be blowing
argument holds good with regard to the manage- as shown by the arrow,-at a good rate of speed.
ment of boats, and the author is confident that he If she does not steer herself, put a small weight
merits the thanks of mothers, whether he receives near the stern, or square end; or, if you like,
them or not, for giving their boys a few hints as to arrange a thin bit of wood for a rudder.
practical rigging and sailing. Probably the first primeval man who
In general, there are three ways of learning how i s born with nautical in-
to sail boats. First, from the light of nature, -stincts discovered this
which is a poor way. Second, from books, -fact, and, using a
which is better; and third, from another ----- _- bush for
fellow who knows how, which is best of all. --. I
I will try to make this article as much ,----
like the other fellow and as little __ 'i---
bookish as possible. ----
Of course, what I shall say in
these few paragraphs will be of small use to
those who live within reach .t tii ._: -.* or some
big lake, and have always been used to boats, FIG, a sail, greatly astonished his
but there are thousands and thousands of bovs fellow -rirn-mea ,,, ;_

and men who never saw the sea, nor even set
eyes on a sail, and who have not the least idea
how to make the wind take them where they want
to go. I once knew some young men from the
interior who went down to the sea-side and hired
a boat, with the idea that they had nothing to
do but hoist the sail and be blown wherever
they liked. The result was that they performed a
remarkable set of maneuvers within sight of the
boat-house, and at last went helplessly out to sea,
and had to be sent after and brought back, when
they were well laughed at for their performances,

some prehistoric regatta. But that was all he
could do. He was as helpless as a balloonist is in
mid-air. He could go, but he could not get back,
and we may be sure that ages passed away before
the possibility of sailing to windward was discovered.
Now, put up, or "step," another mast and sail like
the first, about as far from the stern as the first is
from the bow. Turn the two sails at an angle of
forty-five degrees across the boat (B or C, Fig. I),
and set her adrift. She will make considerable
progress across the course of the wind, although
she will at the same time drift with it. If she



wholly refuses to go in the right direction, place a It will be seen, then, that the science of sailing
light weight on her bow, so that she will be a lies in being able to manage a boat with her head
little down by the head," or move the aftermost -pointing at any possible angle to or from the wind.
mast and sail a little nearer to the stern. Nothing but experience can teach one all the


The little rude affair, thus used for experiment, niceties of the art, but a little aptitude and address
will not actually make any progress to windward, will do to start with, keeping near shore and carry-
because she is so light that she moves sidewise ing little sail.
almost as easily as she does forward. With a I will suppose that the reader has the use of a
larger, deeper boat, and with sails which can be broad flat-bottomed boat, without any rudder.
set at any angle, the effect will be different. So (See Fig. 3.) She cannot be made to work like a
long as the wind presses against the after side of racing yacht under canvas, but lots of fun can be
the sail, the boat will move through the water in had out of her.
the direction of the least resistance, which is for- Do not go to any considerable expense at the
ward. A square sail, having the mast in the outset. Procure an old sheet, or an old hay-cover,
middle, was easiest to begin with for purposes of six or eight feet square, and experiment with that
explanation; but now we will change to a "fore- before spending your money on new material. If
and-aft" rig,-that is, one with the mast at the it is a sheet, and somewhat weakly in its texture,
forward edge or "luff" of the sail, as in Fig. 2. turn all the edges in and sew them, so that it shall
Suppose the sail to be set at the angle shown, and
the wind blowing as the arrow points. The boat B
cannot readily move sidewise, because of the broad-
side resistance; she does not want to move back-
ward, because the wind is pressing on the aftermost
side of the sail. So she very naturally moves for- F
ward. When she nears buoy No. I, the helmsman I
moves the tiller," or handle of the rudder, toward
the sail. This causes the boat to turn her head
toward buoy No. 2, the sail swings across to the
other side of the boat and fills on the other side,
which now in turn becomes
the aftermost, and she moves
toward buoy'No. 2, nearly at
right angles to her former -
course. Thus, through a
series of zig-zags, the wind is A
made to work against itself. FIG. 3.-A SIMPE RIG.
This operation is called "tacking," or "working not give way at the hems. At each corner, sew
to windward," and the act of turning, as at the on a few inches of strong twine, forming loops at
buoys No. I and No. 2, is called "going about." the angles. Sew on, also, eyelets or small loops



along the edge which is intended for the luff of the we may turn our, attention to more ele-
sail, so that it can be laced to the mast. 4 gant and elaborate, but not always
. You are now ready for your spars, namely, a preferable outfits. I


mast and a "sprit," the former a couple of feet
longer than the luff of the sail, and the latter to
be cut off when you find how long you want it.
Let these spars be of pine, or spruce, or bamboo,
as light as possible, especially the sprit. An inch
and a half diameter will do for the mast, and an
inch and a quarter for the sprit, tapering to an inch
at the top. To "step" the mast, bore a hole through
one of the thwarts (seats) near the bow, and make
a socket, or step, on the bottom of the boat, just
under the aforesaid hole,-or if anything a trifle
farther forward,-to receive the foot of the mast.
This will hold the mast upright, or with a slight
" rake aft.
Lace the luff of the sail to the mast so that its lower
edge will swing clear by a foot or so of the boat's
sides. Make fast to the loop at D a stout line, ten
or twelve feet long. This is called the "sheet,"
and gives control of the sail. The upper end of
the sprit, C E, is trimmed so that the loop at C will
fit over it' but not slip down. The lower end is
simply notched to receive a short line called a
' snotter," as shown in the detailed drawing at
the right of the cut. It will be readily understood
that, when the sprit is pushed upward in the direc-
tion of C, the sail will stand spread out. The line
is placed in the notch at E and pulled up until the
sail sits properly, when it is made fast to a cleat, or
to a cross-piece at F. This device is in common
use and has its advantages; but a simple loop for
the foot of the sprit to rest in is more easily made
and will do nearly as well. H is an oar for steering.
Having thus described the simplest rig possible,

One of the prettiest and most convenient rigs for
a small boat is known as the "leg-of-mutton
sharpie rig" (Fig. 4). The sail is triangular, and
the sprit, instead of reaching to its upper corner,
stands nearly at right angles to the mast. It is
held in position at the mast by the devices already
described. This rig has the advantage of keeping
the whole sail flatter than any other, for the end of
the sprit cannot "kick up," as the phrase goes,
and. so the sail holds all the wind it receives.
Fig. 5 shows a device, here published for the
first time, which enables the sailor to step and un-
step his mast, and hoist or lower his sail without
leaving his seat-a matter of great importance when
the boat is light and tottlish, as in the case of that
most beautiful of small craft, the modern canoe,
where the navigator sits habitually amidships. The
lower mast (A B, Fig. 5) stands about two and a
half feet above the deck. It is fitted at the head
with a metal ferrule and pin, and just above the
deck with two half-cleats or other similar devices
(A). The topmast (C D) is fitted at F with a stout
ring, and has double halyards (E) rove through, or
around its foot. The lower mast being in position
(see upper part of cut), the canoeist desiring to
make sail brings the boat's head to the wind, takes
the topmast with the sail loosely furled in one
hand, and the halyards in the other. It is easy for
him by raising this mast, without leaving his seat,
to pass the halyards one on each side of the lower
mast and let them fall into place close to the deck,
under the half-cleats at A. Then, holding the
halyards taut enough to keep them in position, he



will hook the topmast ring over the pin in the lower
mast-head, and haul away (see lower part of cut).
The mast will rise into place, where it is made fast.
A collar of leather, or a knob of some kind, placed
on the topmast just below the ring, will act as a
fulcrum when the halyards are hauled taut, and
keep the mast from working to and fro.
The advantages of the rig are obvious. The
mast can be raised without standing up, and in
case of necessity the halyards can be let go and the
mast and sail unshipped and stowed below with the
greatest ease and expedition, leaving only the short
lower mast standing. A leg-of-mutton sail with a
common boom along the
foot is shown in the cut as
the most easily illustrated
application of the device,
but there is no reason why
it may not be applied to a
sail of different shape, with
a sprit instead of a boom,
and a square instead of a --
pointed head.
The latteen rig" is
recommended only for
boats which are stiff"-
not tottlish, that is. The
fact that a considerable
portion of the sail projects
forward of the mast ren-
ders it awkward in case of
a sudden shift of wind.
Its most convenient form
is shown in Fig. 6. The
arrangement for shipping
and unshipping the yard is
precisely like that shown
in Fig. 5-a short lower
mast with a pin at the top
and a ring fitted to the
yard. It has a boom at the
foot, which is joined to the
yard at C by means of---
a hook or a simple lashing
having sufficient play to
allow the two spars to
shut up together like a pair
of dividers. The boom (C
E) has, where it meets the
short lower mast, a half-


cleat or jaw, shown in gti.
detail at the top of the FIG. 5.-A NEW DEVICE.
cut-the circle representing
a cross section of the mast. This should be lashed taut, the sail will be stretched smoothly between
to the boom, as screws or bolts would weaken it. the two spars. The yard and the boom are held
To take in sail, the boatman brings the boat to the closely to the mast by means of parrels," shown
wind, seizes the boom and draws it toward him. by the black lines crossing the mast near A and B.



This disengages it from the mast. He then shoves
it forward, when the yard (C D) falls of its own
weight into his hands, and can be at once lifted
clear of the lower mast. To keep the sail flat, it is
possible to arrange a collar on the lower mast so
that the boom, when once in position, cannot slip
upward and suffer the sail to bag.
The "balance-lug" (shown in Fig. 7) is de-
servedly popular with canoeists. It has a yard at
the head and a boom at the foot, and is hoisted
and lowered by means of halyards rove through a
block near the head of the mast. These halyards
should be so adjusted to the yard that, when hauled


These are simply short bits of line, or straps,
fastened to the spars and passing on the other side
of the mast. They hold the spars closely enough
to the mast for practical purposes, and yet suffer
.the yard to slide readily up and down. The hal-
yard is sometimes made fast to the yard-parrel, so
that it acts in hoisting on both parts of the yard at
once. The boom must be fastened near the foot


of the mast, so that it can swing freely, but cannot
be hoisted higher than is desired, and will not let
the sail bulge too much.
The cat-rig," so popular on the North-Atlantic
coast, is indicated in Fig. 2. The spar at the head
of the sail is called a gaff," and, like the boom,
it fits the mast with semicircular jaws. The sail is
hoisted and lowered by means of halyards rove
through a block near the mast-head. The mast
is set in the bows,-" chock up in the eyes of her,"
as a sailor would say. A single leg-of-mutton
sail will not work in this position, because the
greater part of its area is too far forward of amid-

ships. No rig is handier or safer than this in
working to windward; but off the wind,-running
before, or nearly before it, that is,-the weight of
mast and sail, and the pressure of the wind at one
side and far forward, make the boat very difficult
and dangerous to steer. Prudent boatmen often
avoid doing so by keeping the wind on the quarter
and, as it were, tacking to leeward.
This suggests the question of "jibing," an
operation always to be avoided if possible.
Suppose the wind to be astern, and the boat
running nearly before it. It becomes necessary
to change your course toward the side on
which the sail is drawing. The safest way is to
turn at first in the opposite direction, put the
helm down (toward the sail), bring the boat
up into the wind, turn her entirely around,
and stand off on the new tack. This, however,
is not always possible. Hauling in the sheet
until the sail fills on the other side is "jib-
ing "; but when this happens, it goes over with
a rush that sometimes carries away mast and
sheet, or upsets the boat; hence the opera-
tion should be first undertaken in a light wind.
It is necessary to know how to do it, for some-
times a sail insists upon jibing very unexpect-
edly, and it is best to be prepared for such
For the sails of such boats as are considered
in this paper, there is no better material than
unbleached, twilled cotton sheeting. It is to be
had two and a half or even three yards wide.
In cutting out your sail, let the selvedge be
at the "leech," or aftermost edge. This, of
course, makes it necessary to cut the luff and
foot bias," and they are very likely to stretch
in the making, so that the sail will assume a
different shape from what was intended. To
avoid this, baste the hem carefully before sew-
ing, and "hold in" a little to prevent fulling.
It is a good plan to tack the material on
the floor before cutting, and mark the outline
of the sail with pencil. Stout tape stitched along
the bias edges will make a sure thing of it,
and the material can be cut, making due allowance
for the hem. Better take feminine advice on this
process. The hems should be half an inch deep
all around, selvedge and all, and it will do no
harm to re-enforce them with cord if you wish to
make a thoroughly good piece of work.
For running-rigging, nothing is better than laid
or braided cotton cord, such as is used for awnings
and sash-cords. If this is not easily procured, any
stout twine will answer. It can be doubled and
twisted as often as necessary. The smallest manilla
rope is rather stiff and unmanageable for such light
sails as ours.




In fitting out a boat of any kind, iron, unless
galvanized, is to be avoided as much as possible, on
account of its liability to rust. Use brass or copper
Nothing has been said about reefing thus far,
because small boats under the management of
beginners should not be afloat in a reefingg
breeze." Reefing is the operation of reducing the
spread of sail when the wind becomes too fresh.
If you will look at Figs. 6 and 7 you will see rows
of short marks on the sail above the boom. These
are reef-points "-bits of line about a foot long
passing through holes in the sail, and knotted so
that they will not slip. In reefing, the sail is
lowered and that portion of it between the boom
and the reef points is gathered together, and the
points are tied around both it and the boom.
When the lower row of points is used it is a single
reef. Both rows together are a double reef.
Make your first practical experiment with a
small sail and with the wind blowing toward the
shore. Row out a little way, and then sail in any
direction in which you can make the boat go,
straight back to shore if you can, with the sail out
nearly at right angles with the boat. Then try
running along shore with the sheet hauled in a
little, and the sail on the side nearest the shore.
You will soon learn what your craft can do, and
will probably find that she will make very little, if
aly, headway to windward. This is partly because
she slides sidewise over the water. To prevent it
you may use a "lee-board"-namely, a broad
board hung over the side of the boat (G, Fig. 3).
This must be held by stout lines, as the strain upon
it is very heavy. It should be placed a little
forward of the middle of the boat. It must be on
the side away from the wind,-the lee side,-and
must be shifted when you go about. Keels and
center-boards are permanent contrivances for the
same purpose, but a lee-board answers very well as
a make-shift, and is even used habitually by some
canoeists and other boatmen.
In small boats it is sometimes desirable to sit amid-
ships, because sitting in the stern raises the bow too
high out of water; steering may be done with an oar
over the lee side or with yoke-lines" attached to
a cross-piece on the rudder-head, or even to the tiller.
In this last case, the lines must be rove through
rings or pulleys at the sides of the boat opposite
the end of the tiller. When the handle of the oar
(H, Fig. 3)-or the tiller (F, Fig. 6), if a rudder is
used-is pushed to the right, the boat will turn to
the left, and vice versa. The science of steering
consists in knowing when to push and how much
to push-very simple, you see, in the statement,
but not always so easy in practice.
The sail should be so adjusted in relation to 'the.

rest of the boat that, when the sheet is hauled close
in and made fast, the boat, if left to herself, will
point her head to the wind like a weather-cock, and
drift slowly astern. If it is found that the sail is so
far forward that she will not do this, the fault may
be remedied by stepping the mast farther aft, or
by rigging a small sail near the stern. This is
called a "dandy" or "steering-sail," and is
especially convenient in a boat whose size or
arrangement necessitates sitting amidships. It
may be rigged like the mainsail, and when its
sheet is once made fast will ordinarily take care of
itself in tacking.
Remember that, if the wind freshens or a squall
strikes you, the position of safety is with the boat's
head to the wind. When in doubt what to do,
push the helm down (toward the sail), and haul in
the slack of the sheet as the boat comes up into the
wind. If she is moving astern, or will not mind
her helm,-and of course she will not if she is
not moving,-pull her head around to the wind
with an oar, and experiment cautiously until you
find which way you can make her go.
In making a landing, always calculate to have
the boat's head as near the wind as possible when
she ceases to move. This, whether you lower your
sail or not.
Thus, if the wind is off shore, as shown at A, Fig.
8, land at F or G with the bow toward the shore.
If the wind is from the direction of B, land at E
with the bow toward B, or at F; if at the latter,
the boom will swing away from the wharf and per-
mit you to lie alongside. If the wind is from D,




reverse these positions. If the wind comes from
the direction of C, land either at F or G, with the
bow pointing off shore.
If you have no one to tell you what to do, you
will have to feel your way slowly and learn by
experience; but, if you have nautical instincts, you



I I --


will soon make your boat do what you wish her to
do, as far as she is able. But first learn to swim
before you try to sail a boat."
Volumes have been written on the subject which

is treated in these few pages, and it is not yet ex-
hausted. The hints here given are safe ones to
follow, and will, it is hoped, be of service to many
a young sailor in many a corner of the world.



ALONG the single track of the Valley Rail-
road trudged a merry, brown-faced Italian, sing-
ing as he went. In one hand he carried a stout
stick to which was fastened a platform about a foot
and a half square, -. I n- with the other he held the
end of a tiny chain attached to the collar of a
small South-American monkey, perched upon his
shoulder. In spite of his gay scarlet jacket, with
its tarnished gilt military trimmings, Jocko looked
very sad. Perhaps he was thinking of the good times
he used to have scampering about with troops of
merry playmates in his. native Brazilian forests, or
jabbering with his neighbors the toucans, the
parrots and the long-tailed macaws.
Just then his master came in sight of the car-
house at the end of the road. The engine, with its
steam up, was standing ready to back down the
track to the station, and quite a crowd of small
boys and road hands were lounging around, wait-
ing for the starting.
A h, ha!" exclaimed the Italian aloud, hurrying
with all his might. "Now, Jocko, perhaps we haf
a chance to make a leetle penny "
In a moment more he had planted his staff firmly
in the ground, and, pulling a parcel from under
his ragged coat, took out a soldier's cap, which he
clapped on Jocko's head, and a tiny toy gun, which
he placed in the monkey's brown paw, and then
stood him on the platform, ready to show off the
clever tricks which he had taught him.

"'Shoulder arms! Presentarms! Carryarmsl
Load! Fire Scharge baynet!" shouted the
merry Italian, at short intervals, holding up a stick
Jocko obeyed, with the most soldier-like. air
possible. The small boys screamed with delight,
and made up faces and capered about, acting a
great deal more monkey-like than did Jocko, who
stood up as stiff as a poker and as dignified as a
Roman senator.
Jocko hated small boys. In the first place, he
thought if it were not for them he might live in
peace, and not have to go through with those odious
tricks, for if all the people in the world were grown
up, they would have neither the time nor the taste
foi-such nonsense. And, in the second place, small
boys seemed born without mercy, for when he had
played soldier again and again, until his back and
limbs were sore and stiff, the greedy creatures
never failed to ask for more.
The Italian pulled off Jocko's military coat and
cap, and opening the bundle a second time, took
out a short brown petticoat and red waist, and
white cap with a big frill around the front of it, and
put them on the monkey, who scolded and jabbered
away as if he was utterly disgusted at such folly.
Then a little broom was given him, and he had to
go through the motions of sweeping over and
over again. But when he passed the hat around
and heard the chink of the pennies, he felt better-

* See Dr. Hunt's article, A Talk about Swimming," ST. NICHOLAS for June, 1877.



natured, for he knew that so much money meant a
good supper for that night.
"Jump in here," said the engineer, beckoning
to the monkey's master. I'11 take you down to
the station. Perhaps you'11 have a chance to pick
up a few pennies there."
The Italian clambered up the side of the engine,
and Jocko sat perched on his shoulder, watching
with his inquisitive, sharp little eyes the pulling out
of the throttle-valve, and every movement made
by the engineer.
At the station, the Italian had just fixed the stand
to the platform, ready to show off Jocko's accom-
plishments, when a tremendous clatter was heard,
and a horse with a pony phaeton, in which were a
lady and two little children, dashed up
the street at a furious pace. The engi-
neer and fireman left their places, and all M
the men about the station ran toward the 1I

road, hoping to stop the horse as he
came along. Even the Italian, in the
excitement of the moment, forgot Jocko
and darted off like a deer.
Finding himself alone, Jocko jumped
down from the stand and scrambled up
the side of the engine, and, hopping on
one of the seats of the cab, sat looking
about him as wise as an owl or a college
professor. Then his keen, mischievous
eyes espied the throttle-valve, and reach-
ing up his brown paw he gave the handle '
a violent pull.
"Pish! Pish!" The engine made a
sudden plunge which nearly jerked the
passengers' heads off, and caused two
stout old gentlemen, who were standing
in the aisle talking politics, to bump their
noses together in a very painful manner.
Pish-pish, pish-pish, pish-pish, pish-
pish," faster and faster turned the wheels,
and faster and faster came the great white
clouds from the smoke-stack!
The train was already far beyond the
switch, and Jocko, looking out of the
window, saw that the runaway horse had
been stopped and the lady and children
were safe, and all the people were running
after the iron horse as if they thought
they could stop that as easily as they had
brought the real horse to a stand-still.
"It's some rascally boy," said the fireman, hop-
ping up and down in his anger, while the engineer
shook his brawny fist toward the-train and shouted
until he was hoarse: Stop Stop You young
scamp. If ever I catch you I 'll take your head off
close to your shoulders." The long-legged con-
ductor, however, gave chase to the engine, and ran

as far as the car-house after it, followed by a stout
old lady, who kept waving her parasol and scream-
ing: "Wait a bit, wait a bit! until she puffed
almost as much as the locomotive.
The.track for some distance was a steep down-
grade, and Jocko, delighted at the tremendous
speed at which he was going, felt himself of con-
siderable importance, and jabbered and grinned
with joy. The people in the car thought it was all
right until they reached the first way-station, and
the train thundered by without so much as a warn-
ing whistle. Then they began to put their heads
out of the windows and wonder at the unusual rate
of speed.
"Can we be late?" asked one of the stout old

gentlemen, rubbing the bump on his red nose, and
looking rather anxiously at his neighbor.
"Perhaps the engineer has a fit," remarked a
fidgety old lady, as the cars gave a sudden lurch.
"What does it mean, Patrick? asked a lady of
the coachman who had brought her to the third
way-station in time to take the train.




Howly saints!" exclaimed Patrick, with a white
face and big, round eyes. Shure, ma'am, and
it's the divil himself let loose and a driving the
ingine. Be me sowl, I saw his tail! "
The locomotive slackened its furious speed as it
puffed its way up the steep ascent just before the
long level stretch which lay between the branch
railroad and its junction with the main line. Then,
Jocko suddenly remembered that he had seen the
engineer push in the throttle-valve, and he did like-
wise, and the train gradually came to a stand-still.
But just as the passengers were starting anxiously for
the door to find out what was the matter, the mis-
chievous monkey pulled out the handle again, and
the locomotive nearly leaped from the track, throw-
ing the passengers violently against the seats. A
few rods beyond, in went the valve again, and
two or three times these strange maneuvers were
repeated, while the passengers, with white, terror-
stricken faces, sat holding on to the seats, expect-
ing every instant some awful accident. Just as the
train was nearing the junction, Jocko pushed in the
handle of the throttle-valve for the last time, and
in a moment more two of the station men, who had
been watching in utter surprise the queer move-
ments of the engine, sprang into the cab and
backed the train down to the side track, just in time
to get out of the way of the lightning express which

whizzed by on the main track, leaving a thick cloud
of dust behind it.
There's a new engineer on the Valley Road,
your honor," said one of the men to the superin-
tendent, who came to see what the trouble was.
"And he's rather a green hand at it," and he
pointed to the monkey, who sat there as solemn
as a judge.
A telegram was at once sent to the Valley Sta-
tion, explaining matters, and the superintendent,
delighted with the monkey's smartness, bought
him for his two boys, paying the Italian a good
round price for him. The engineer and fireman
came very near losing their places for leaving their
engine, but when the superintendent found out that
the runaway horse which the engineer's strong
hand had seized was his own, and that the lady
and two little girls in the phaeton were his wife and
youngest children, he let the men off with a mild
rebuke and some good advice.
Jocko led a happy and peaceful life, becoming a
great favorite with the railroad hands, who petted
him, and took him by turns to ride on the engines,
and always spoke of him as the new engineer of
the Valley Railroad."
But the smart little fellow was never after al-
lowed to be alone on the engine, as on the day
when he made his first trial-trip.



A SMALL brown thing
I flit and sing
Thro' the golden globes o' the orange-trees,
And I mock, and mock
The birds that flock
To the North, like clouds in a southern breeze.

The cat-bird's cry,
The small wren's sigh,
The swallow and the whip-poor-will,
The screaming jay,
All day, all day,
Find in my notes their echo still.

With eye askance
And wicked glance,
I mock them all; and e'en at night
Give back "tut whoo"
To th' owl's "halloo,"
When the moon floods all my haunts with light.

And every sound
That haunts the ground,
The locust's chirp, the hum-half-heard-
Of bee and fly,
I mock,-and cry:
" 0 listen, Earth, to the Mocking-bird!"






allkindsof fun
in this great
big world of
ours. There
are .skating
and boating,
base-ball and
riding. Akite
is a lofty kind
of sport, and
chess and
cribbage have
i, tranquil joys.
splendid, and
a doll's house,
THE BICYCLEwith real beds
and a good kitchen, will furnish enough good
times to last through the long vacation.
Country boys and girls have a great deal of fun.
There are berrying parties, nutting parties and
hunting parties, husking-bees in the big barn, and
candy-pullings in the kitchen, and picnics in the
shady grove.

n IC

T I l

---- -- -


City children have their good times, too. They
have scores of household games and toys; and
there are visits to the Beach, where the gay

wooden-horse careers around in the most exciting
manner, and Mr. and Mrs. Punch show what a
lovely time they had together,-to say nothing of
surf-bathing and steam-boat rides. Then there
is the great city Park, with wonderful donkeys
and the most delicious goat carriages, with a free
sight at the bears and lions, and pleasant walks
where the Guinea-hens chatter so sweetly and the
beautiful peacocks sing.
Now, it is a solemn fact that men like fun. Big,
grown-up fellows sometimes leave their work and
have a real good time at base-ball, or cricket, or in
sailing or riding. They don't say much. about it,
but they really and truly like fun as much as boys.
No boy nor girl would ever think of such a thing as
sitting down at a table and playing whist. Per-
haps there is n't any such thing as fun in it, after
all. People are so solemn over the game it is
quite clear they do not know what fun means.
Some kinds of fun enjoyed by men and women are
good for boys and girls, particularly the new styles,
like archery and tennis. Sometimes men invent a
new sport or a new kind of fun, and then all the
boys want to
know what it is,
and ask if it is
good for boys i
to play at, too.
About sixty
years ago, a
man invented a
newkind of fun,
He took two
small carriage-
wheels and
placed one be-
hind the other,
with a wooden
frame to hold
them together;
put a seat on the frame between the wheels, and,
sitting on it, his toes touching the ground, he
pushed himself along at a jolly pace. He steered
the machine by a handle in front that controlled
the forward wheel, and, in going down hill, he had
only to lift up his feet and have a coast on wheels.
Everybody thought it was quite a splendid machine,
and a great many were made, both for men and boys.
But it had a habit of tipping over sideways, and it
would not go much faster than a boy could run.
Then they tried to make various improvements on




the machine. They put on another wheel, so that it
would stand alone, and then.they took it off again,
for they found it wohld
go better with two
wheels. At last, about
ten years ago, they
S made improved ma-
chines called veloci-
pedes, with cranks on
one wheel so that it
S -. could be moved by
S i'"li ^turning the cranks
with the feet. But
even these machines
Sdid not last long, and
they all went out of
S'fashion. It was of no
consequence, for they
were very poor things.
Velocipedes of all
kinds are plentiful
enough now, and boys
HOPELESS! and girls know all
about them. They
make pretty good fun, but not real tip-top fun,
only a kind of half fun, like rowing a heavy
boat with oars a mile too big. It is far too much
work to drive
a velocipede,
I! 'i. and it does
I shake a fellow
up fearfully.
So, no wonder
they used to

-l I

think it would be great fun to fly. It is a pity we
have n't the right style of wings, so that we could
take a good fly now and then, but with a bicycle
you can skim along the ground, if not over it.
Riding a wheel is next to flying, and ten times
better than coast-
ing or skating. --
There are two ---
kinds of fun: fun
with the hands
or feet, such as
running, swim- .'
ming or skating, i
playing ball, or '
any other simple ,i '
games, and fun '-.'
in thinking, asin V --I;
solving puzzles or ", .
riddles. The best
fun is found '
where the two ? /iI
are combined, ass '
in playing tennis ,, .." I .
or at archery, in -. .,
driving a horse -
or sailing a boat, COASTING.
and all the sports
where you use your mind as well as your hands.
In driving a horse or boat, you must guide the
horse or boat as well as use your hands-you
must think for the horse and pick out a path for
the boat. So it is with this new kind of fun.
You have to choose a road for the wheel, to
think where you are going, and use your feet and
hands to make the wheel move.
Of all the different kinds of
sport, the best are those that take
a boy or girl out-of-doors, under
the blue sky, in the open air, on
Island or water. Nothing gives so

call them "bone-shakers." About
three years ago, somebody made
a better kind of velocipede, and ''
called it a "bicycle," and now I
boys, and men, too, have a ma-
chine that it is really some fun --
to use. Lately they have begun
to call it the wheel," which is a better name than much pleas-
bicycle. ure as to
Talk about coasting down hill at ten miles an move from
hour! There 's the sled to be dragged up the village to
hill again. Talk about skating! It's cold fun, village, to
sometimes, particularly when the ice flies up and travel along
hits a fellow on the back of the head. Some boys a road or



river, to see new scenes and new faces. To ride a
horse, or sail a boat, gives a sense of freedom and
movement that is delightful. Birds must enjoy life.
They have such splendid freedom of movement,
they fly so fast and so far, it is plain they have a
far better time than animals that only walk or run.
At any rate, they are the only creatures that sing,
and singing springs from a happy heart.
It must have been these things that led man to
invent the bicycle. Think of a machine that will
enable him to go a mile in two min-
utes and twenty-seven seconds, or
almost as fast .r. r.. i rh-i .

joined together by a backbone, or perch, that car-
ries a saddle, on which the rider sits, over the for-
ward wheel, and with his feet hanging down on either
side. A bicycle for boys will have a front wheel
thirty-six inches in diameter, a rear wheel of sixteen
inches, and it will weigh about thirty-eight pounds
and cost fifty dollars. Some boys may require a
slightly larger wheel, as the machine must fit the
boy, or he cannot use it. Let us have a look at the
machine, name the parts, see how they are made,

out oars or in *:-. r A :I .i'.
kind Thierk .A ". i.:.:l -. h i
enable hiiin t r I ..i ., Ihl. r.:-.
miles li -*.r !:. lini :
that wil *:.lrr' liirri
fifty 1i I'-, 1
day without '-.-*'i'. I -
exertir, ', -
more '

force \V !M i I:I *
than it "1
would take
to walk twen- '-
ty! A man on --
a wheel can outrun a
horse, go as fast as a dog, and have all the fun of
a bird. You may be sure there was never any-
thing invented equal to a good bicycle for real
manly out-of-door sport.
Well! This is all very fine for a man. Will it
do .for boys ? All manly, out-of-door sports are
good for boys, and the use of the "wheel" will
make a lad brave, self-reliant, wide-awake and
active, and he may well mount it and feel sure it is
the iight thing to do.
A bicycle is a two-wheeled carriage. The front
wheel is quite large, the rear wheel is much smaller
and runs close behind it. The two wheels are
VOL. VII.-58.

'I -. ,'/ 1 .- -

A ," "-",I

,\ ,,' "' I t '

..... i l11

:* t I ". \ I I


.hinr' T-hI Iir:;t !i,;l!i are
[i.e I ,:. bh--i Th,::.- are of

'" i",i"/ [,-e!. ', ", i ht rnd ;tr.:.r.-, and
,1. and -
hb urt i -th ,k tiitjhh r t ires.
. T he itt1... .. 1. 1 i-r h, ...l the tire
.- t. [ u- I., hc e -.teel
i .:I pl .:.. Se-
.:ur.\ i: ,rcr.-l toi: cl. hubt "ir-: cranks
for ,. ,-. n h- il I r r i'- [ .1 I. d 4o that
.-.ne i in'ri'io'. -_ up J. le ,th. ot "r I, mo ing
down, or in oppusite directiou) A lstel axle is
placed in the center of the wheel, and, as this
is quite long, all the spokes flare, or spread out
in the center. On each crank is a treadle, or foot-
rest, which is partly covered with rubber. These
treadles turn around freely on the crank, so that the
feet resting on them are always flat and in an easy
position. From the hub over the top of the wheel
is a piece of steel in two branches called the fork,"
and at the top it joins the backbone," or perch,
that carries the seat and joins the two wheels
together. The fork above this has a standard or
head fixed to it, but free to turn around on the
backbone, and having handles at the top, so that




the front wheel may be turned to the right or left
in guiding the machine. In front of the handles
is a second handle by which to control a brake for
checking the speed. when the rider wishes to go
slow. These are the principal parts of this steel
horse, and, if the rider wishes, he can have a sad-
dle-bag for holding an oil-can and tools for repairs,
and a bell and lantern to warn people on the road
of the approach of the swift and silent steed. All
parts of the machine are of steel or rubber, except
the saddle, and the whole is very light and graceful,
moving easily and quickly, with very little effort.
In riding the wheel, the boy sits on the saddle,
with the ball of each foot resting lightly on one of
the treadles. A slight downward push with the
foot on one treadle sends the wheel forward, and
the treadle is allowed to come up easily and thus
turn completely around. The other foot alternates
with this, and, while the cranks turn once and the
rider makes two steps, the large wheel turns around
once, and the whole machine, rider and all, moves
forward over the ground. If the wheel is thirty-six
inches in diameter, one revolution will take it
three times as far along the ground, or o18 inches,
which is equal to nine feet. A boy in walking
moves about one foot eight inches in taking a full
step. The boy on the wheel, in making two
motions, or steps, moves nine feet. Looked at in
another way, riding a bicycle may be thus com-
pared with walking: In walking a mile a boy will
spend fifteen minutes, on the wheel five minutes,
and with very much less work, because, while
making two steps on the cranks he moves very
much farther than in walking two steps. In walk-
ing a mile, a boy has to lift his weight every time
he steps, and must carry his weight the whole dis-
tance; on the wheel he rides quite comfortably,
and the machine carries his weight, or the difference
between his weight and the force, or weight, he puts
on each treadle. In other words, you can wheel three
times the distance in the same time as walking, and
with one-half the trouble. A man can walk thirty
miles a day; on the wheel he can ride fifty with less
trouble. Boys with bicycles think nothing of a five-
mile run after tea, or twenty miles of an afternoon,
while a ten-mile walk would give more work than fun.
It seems very queer that a boy can ride on two
wheels, one behind the other. The machine will
not even stand alone, and it certainly looks as if a
boy on top would easily tip over sideways. A boy
on skates looks quite as queer, and it is equally
strange he does not fall. He does fall, until he
learns to balance himself. So the bicycle mounts
his wheel and rides all day securely, because, like
the boy on skates, or the rope-walker at the circus,
he learns to balance himself on his wheel.
Suppose a boy has a machine and he wishes to

learn to ride. There are riding-schools in some
places; but a far better way is to go out-of-doors,
on some quiet road or path, with a friend to hold
the machine till you learn to balance yourself.
First learn to hold and lift the machine. Stand on
the left side of the wheel and hold it with the right
hand on the saddle. To lift it, grasp the fork with
the left hand just above the hub, and put the right
hand under the backbone just above the small
wheel. To roll it along, stand on the left side,
hold the saddle with the right hand and push it
forward, and steer it with the left on the handle.
Now, to learn to ride, get your friend to hold the
machine upright and keep it steady while you
mount and ride. Put the toe of the left foot on the
little step, just above the rear wheel, and then hop
a few times on the right foot till the machine is
started, and then gently rise on the left foot and
slide into the saddle. For a little while, the friend
must walk beside the machine and keep it steady
till you learn to balance yourself. Rest the ball of
one foot on each treadle, and let them turn around
easily till you get accustomed to the motion.
Now! Go ahead! Hands on the handles and
looking straight forward. If you feel yourself fall-
ing to the right, turn the wheel gently and slowly
to the right, and the balance will be restored. If
going to the left, turn the wheel that way. Always
steer in the direction you are inclined to fall.
Another way is to press down on the crank at the
side opposite that on which you are falling. Either
or both of these movements will prevent a fall, and
you will soon learn to hold yourself and the wheel
upright without the slightest trouble, and in a
short time it becomes a habit to balance yourself,
and you think no more about it than in balancing
yourself on your feet in walking or skating.
In dismounting, the most simple way is to slide
back on the saddle while the machine is going, lift
the left foot off the crank and slide it down the
backbone till it reaches the step. Then, resting
the weight gently on the handles, lift-the right foot
from the crank and spring lightly to the ground,
still keeping hold of the handles. There are
other ways of mounting and dismounting, just as
there are several fancy styles of riding, but these
are the most simple and easy.
Once the machine is mastered, then the fun
begins. Here is a steed that will outrun a horse,
that will not shy at the cars, nor run away if the
harness breaks. To be sure, he has his tricks.
Some boys say he will kick, and throw a fellow
over his head or spill him on the road; but on
asking the winged horse how this is, he says it is
generally the rider's own fault. Sometimes, he
will run away down hill at forty miles an hour, but
you must look out for the brake, and, if you must




fall, it's a good plan to choose a soft place in the be the best kind of fun for boys. It will teach
road-if there is one at hand. them to be quick of eye and hand, brave to endure
Some doctors go on this wonderful horse to see long runs, and bring a sense of freedom and life in
their patients, and postmen take their letters about the open air, such as no other sport can give. In
on him. Thousands of men, and boys, too, already fact, some boys say it is the best kind of fun ever
ride the wheel; and, a few months ago, a company invented. And the doctors say, too,-that riding the
of nearly two hundred "American wheelmen met bicycle willnot injure you, as the strain of the bicycle-
at Newport, Rhode Island, where they gave a bicycle exercise is not the same as that of the velocipede,
parade. Altogether, it seems as if bicycling might which many doctors believe to be harmful.



THE city of Venice, often called "the Queen of
the Sea," is one of the most beautiful cities in
Italy, and is built on a number of small islands in
the Adriatic Sea.
In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, Venice
was at the height of its power and splendor. Its
chief magistrate was called a Doge, and though the
government was republican, there was very much
more splendor and pomp than in our day.
The palace of the Doge still stands as one of
the monuments of that time, very interesting to
travelers, and the famous Bridge of Sighs," span-
ning the canal, joins the palace with the prisons.
Some of you may have read Byron's lines,--
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs,
A palace and a prison on each hand,"-

and in the picture on the next page you can see
both buildings plainly. Persons accused of crimes
against the state were tried in the palace before
the Doge, and after they were sentenced, the
criminals were taken across the "Bridge of Sighs "
to the dungeons, where they remained until their
execution. So this bridge was indeed well named.
You already have been told in ST. NICHOLAS *
about the church of San Marco, or St. Mark. It
was built at a very early date, and was improved
and enlarged at intervals during several centuries.
Its gigantic clock has been the wonder of many
ages, and its beautiful steeple or "campanile," as
the Italians call it, can be seen for miles against
the clear sky, with an angel's figure poised on its
summit. The church and the buildings connected
with it occupy a whole square.
On the roofs of these lives a colony of doves or
pigeons, who build their nests and rear their young
undisturbed. Pigeons have for centuries been pro-
tected by the keepers of the church. It was an

ancient custom, dating as far back as A. D. 877,
for the sacristans or sextons, after the service on
Palm Sunday, to let loose a number of pigeons,
fettered with strips of paper. The people were
allowed to catch as many of these birds as they
could, and fatten them to eat on Easter Sunday.
As many pigeons as escaped and took refuge on
the roof of the church were protected, as belong-
ing to the sacred edifice, and were fed at the
expense of the republic. During all the wars
and troubles, and until the downfall of this
government in May, A. D. 1797, these little birds
were cared for, and lived their happy lives, uncon-
scious of the confusion around them. They were very
tame, and would feed from the hands of those
accustomed to throw them their daily portion of
grain. After the republic was done away with, and
the palace of the Doges was unoccupied, a pious
lady left a bequest to continue the supply to the
pigeons. This lady was of the Cornaro family,
once high in esteem in Venice. As there were a
number of sacristans of San Marco, the feeding of
the pigeons was intrusted to some members of
their families, their wives or daughters, and the
frontispiece will give some idea of the pretty scene
when these little feathered pensioners came down
to receive their portions from the hands of a I;-li-
eyed Venetian girl, whose charge they were.
One of the most interesting features of Venetian
life were the festivals which occurred every year,
and served to keep in remembrance certain events
in the history of the city. Among these was one
kept annually for centuries called La Festa
della 'Marie," and this is the incident it com-
memorates: In very old times, it was the custom
in Venice to have all the marriages among the
nobles and chief citizens celebrated on the same
day, and in the same church in the eastern part of

* See ST. NICHOLAS for December, 1877.




1,..' 1

t '1i




the city, on a little island called Olivolo, where the
bishop lived. On the day of the fite, elegant
gondolas were seen on the waters, carrying people
dressed in holiday attire to the appointed place,
and the young couples landed to the sound of sweet
and joyous music. The jewels and other presents
given to the brides were carried in the procession,

and a long train of friends, relatives and-attendants
came after.
In A. D. 933, an event happened at this ceremony
which came very near ending tragically for the
happy lovers. The pirates of Istria, a neighboring
country, were in the habit of scouring the Adriatic,
and were the terror of all the cities on the coast.



""'';;ir i i.I II r-i~i 111;


Always alert for plunder, they decided that the
time of the Venetian wedding feast would be a
favorable one to enrich themselves very easily.
Near to Olivolo was a small island, at that time
uninhabited, and here, the day before the flee, the
wily Istriotes concealed themselves and their light
The next day, the gay companies passed slowly
along to the church, unconscious of danger. The
services began, and the espoused couples stood be-
fore the altar. Then suddenly the Istriote pirates,
swift as arrows, rowed their boats into the harbor
where the gay procession had just disembarked.
In the midst of the solemn service, the doors of the
church were thrown open and the dark-bearded
pirates rushed in. With their drawn swords in
their hands, they made their way to the altar, and,
snatching up the terrified brides, they rushed to their
boats, not forgetting to secure the caskets with the
bridal gifts. Before the horrified bridegrooms and
guests could realize what had happened, the rob-
bers were carrying their prize, with swift and steady
strokes, toward the shores of Istria. The Doge was
assisting at the ceremony; but, rushing from the
church, he called on all to follow, till the number
of citizens soon swelled to hundreds, as they ran
to the wharf, shouting for vengeance.
There were several ships in the harbor, and they
hastily embarked. Every sail was unfurled, and
they started in pursuit of the pirates and their
precious booty. The wind being favorable, they
overtook them in the lagoons, or low water near
the shore. It was not to be expected that any
quarter would be given to the robbers. The
girls were restored unhurt to their lovers, and
all the jewels were recovered. It is said that
every pirate was fettered and thrown headlong
into the sea, not one escaping to tell the story to
his countrymen.
Another gorgeous festival at Venice was the mar-
riage of the city to the Adriatic Sea. It was cele-
brated every year on Ascension Day, and this, too,
had its origin in an historical event. In A. D. I170,
Pope Alexander III. was driven from Rome by the
Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, or Red-beard, and
he took refuge in Venice, where he was received
with great respect and affection. The emperor
demanded that the republic should give him up;
but the request was refused.
Barbarossa then sent a fleet of seventy-five gal-
leys, under the command of his son, Otho, with
orders to destroy all that came in their way. The
Doge had only forty galleys; but he was an expert
seaman, and drove the emperor's fleet off the coast
and took Otho prisoner. After this battle, peace

was made, and Frederick consented to come to
Venice to be reconciled with the Pope.
To reward the Venetians for their services, the
Pope bestowed on them the sovereignty of the Adri-
atic Sea, and presented the Doge with a ring, say-
ing, Receive this as a symbol of your sovereignty,
and celebrate your espousals with the sea every
This fte on Ascension Day was a universal holi-
day. The poor and the rich put on their gayest
dresses and went to witness the marriage of the
Doge with the sea. The bells of the city rang
from daybreak their most joyful chimes, the canals
were thronged with gondolas ornamented with
banners. In one of the largest harbors, called
La Piazzetta, was anchored a large vessel, called
the "Bucentaur," which belonged to the Doge.
The crew were chosen from among the strongest and
handsomest of the Venetian seamen. The prow
of the ship was gilded and ornamented with fig-
ures, and in the center was a crimson-velvet tent
embroidered with gold, above which floated the flag
of San Marco. When the hour of noon sounded,
the door of the church was thrown open and a
grand procession moved forth. First came eight
standard-bearers with the flags of the republic in
red, blue, white and violet, and six men with silver
trumpets; then came the officers in the service of
the Doge, dressed in their state robes. Next fol-
lowed the musicians, and a deacon carrying a large
wax taper sent by the Pope, and men bearing the
throne and cushions of the Doge. The city magis-
trates made part of the procession, and, lastly, the
Doge himself, in his ducal robes, his mantle of
ermine fastened with gold buttons, his robes of
blue and cloth of gold; his head covered with the
ducal cap of Venice, over which was a crown of gold
sparkling with precious stones. The procession
advanced slowly up the quay and embarked on the
" Bucentaur," with the admiral of the Venetian
fleet at the helm. As they drew up the anchors, all
the bells in the city poured forth their most joyful
sounds. The large vessel went slowly on, sur-
rounded by numerous smaller barges and gondolas,
all filled with people gayly dressed. After the
fleet had advanced some distance into the Adriatic,
the Doge rose from his throne, walked to the prow
of the vessel on a raised gallery, and threw into the
blue waves a gold ring, saying, We espouse thee,
O Sea, in sign of real and perpetual sovereignty."
Then the Doge and his suite attended service in
the church of San Nicolas on another island, called
Lido, and the fleet returned to Venice, where the
grand personages attended a sumptuous repast at
the ducal palace.











THAT night, when the feast was over, and the
girls had gone home, and the darkness of the wood
was only dimly lighted by the flickering flames of the
bonfire, the old soldiers were not only tired and
sleepy, but somewhat lonely. To be sure, there
were fourteen sturdy boys of them, and as they
began to select their sleeping-places for the night,
they had a feeling of being very much more numer-
ous than they were. Every boy wanted to sleep in
the best place, and, as there were not many best
places, it was difficult for so many to be accommo-
dated. But this nice question having been ad-
jiusted by Captain Sam, who solved all difficulties
by taking the best berth for himself, the boys
lingered around the fire, loath to go, and yet
reluctant to sit up longer.
I '11 tell you what it is, fellows," said Blackie,
"this would be a first-rate chance to go money-
digging. None of our folks would know a word
about it, and we might go over to the fort-pasture,
where that ring is made in the turf, and try our
"Pshaw !" cried Captain Sam, scornfully.
"What's the use of going after old De la Tour's
money on a night like this? See, there isn't a
cloud in the sky. You can't dig for money on a
clear night. It's got to be cloudy, but with the
'moon at the full, and the wind must blow a ten-
knot breeze at the very least."
"Besides," added Billy Hetherington, "we
have n't got any tools."
But there is a spade and shovel, and then we
have two hatchets in the camp. And that's all'we
"But," explained Billy, "we want money-dig-
ging tools. We must have a divining-rod, and
the seven white feathers from a field-sparrow's tail,
and lots of things besides." There was a general
laugh at this, as most of the boys, although they
had heard of the magical tricks and fools supposed
by the ignorant and superstitious to be necessary
for money-digging, were ready to ridicule all such
notions when they were seriously discussed. Billy
reddened at the laughter which he had raised by
his earnest remark, but, as he screened his cheeks
from the hot glare of the fire, he said, a little petu-
lantly, "Well, you may laugh, but I have heard

old Ma'am Heath tell how old Kench found that
treasure over on the Doshen shore with a divining-
rod and other things."
And she told how a big, black dog, with red,
fiery eyes, came and barked at old Kench, as he
was digging, and how the old man said: 'What's
that?' And then the lights all went out, and how
the chest, which he could just feel with the end of
his shovel, went down, down." This was Hi
Hatch's contribution to the learning of the money-
diggers. And, as he told his tale,-told so many
times before,-the boys looked suspiciously around
them into the gloomy depths of the wood.
Oh, pshaw cried Ned Martin, what 's the
use of talking such rubbish? You '11 scare these
little fellows so that they wont dare to go to bed
to-night. There is little Sam Murch, now, so
scared that his eyes are sticking out so that you
can hang your cap on them."
Sam stoutly denied that he was frightened the
least bit, but his teeth chattered as he spoke, and
some of the other small boys declared that it was
growing cold. So, with many protests that they
were not sleepy, the party curled up in twos and
threes on the layers of fragrant spruce and cedar
boughs with which they had covered the uneven
floor of their camp.
Billy Hetherington and Blackie nestled close to
each other, and whispered for a while about the
money-digging project which was so dear to Billy's
heart. But Blackie soon dropped off to sleep, and
all the camp was still, to Billy's wakeful ear, save
when some little chap, turning uneasily, muttered
in his dreams.
The fire snapped and flickered outside the
camp. The ,white rays of the moon began to
sift down through the tree-tops, and afar off on
the bay could be heard the rude music of sailors
singing as they hove up anchor, a sound which
was comforting to Billy, who lay still and thought
of the ship which had anchored there in the after-
noon, waiting for the turn of the tide to take her
up to-the port. Then the cheery "Yo-heave-ho"
of the sailors died away, and the listening boy
heard only the snapping of the hemlock in the
fire, and the distant and mournful cry of a loon
on the bay. Occasionally, too, a niight-hawk gave
a shrill call as he whirred over the forest, or the
hoot of an owl sounded and resounded dismally
from theBlock-house Hill.
"Why can't I get to sleep?" moaned Billy,




impatiently to himself. ."There's Sam actually
snoring. Oh, dear! oh, dear! Why can't I get
to sleep ? I wonder what the folks are doing at
home? It 's after nine o'clock. We heard the
meeting-house bell ring ever so long ago. I s'pose
Old Fitts is sound asleep by this time. Oh, dear
me Why can't I get to sleep ?"
The boy raised himself up and looked enviously
around on his sleeping comrades. Little Sam
Murch was lying where a ray of white moonlight
fell across his face, and Billy mused :
"He 's a nice boy, Sam. I wonder why he is
such a good chap, and his brother is such a slouch ?
I wonder if Jo will join the White Bears ? I won-
der if we wont lick the White Bears, the next time
we have a match game with them? That was an
awful good catch that dear old- Blackie made, last
game. Oh, dear! oh, dear! Why don't I go to
sleep ? There The moon is shining right spang
in Sam's face. I wonder if it will strike him blind?
That 's what old Tumble says. I wonder if old
Tumble would know how to dig for money? I
wonder if the White Bears would come down and
break up our camp to-night, if they knew we did
not stand guard, as they do up to Orland when
they have muster there ?"
And here Billyi in sheer desperation, lay down
and went to sleep. At least, he thought he had
gone to sleep, when he heard a soft tread outside.
Instantly, he was alert and listening. Again he
heard it. Was it old De la Tour coming back for
his money? But the old captain did not haunt
this part of the peninsula; besides, he did not
usually, come at this time of year. There were
whispers in the darkness, and Billy felt cold chills
running down his back, and a goose-fleshy feeling
all over him. -There was a tight band around his
head, and he felt that his hair was standing on end.
Scared though he was, he had enough presence of
mind to wonder to himself if his hair was really
standing up, or if it only felt so. Then he poked
Blackie in the back, and, as the lad turned sleepily,
he whispered in his ear:
"There's somebody outside of the camp "
White Bears," suggested Blackie.
I guess so," replied Billy. Listen "
And Blackie listened. Just then, a big stone
came crashing through the side of the camp,
and struck Tom Tilden in the back. That war-
rior awoke with a tremendous howl of rage and
pain. With that, the cry of Firebrand Fire-
brand rang through the woods, and the Fairport
Nine knew that the Philistines were upon them.
The battle-cry of the White Bears was Fire-
brand Why, nobody knew, but when the sleep-
ing camp was aroused by that ominous yell, they
knew who were their assailants. Even in the dark,

it is a good thing to know with whom you are
The enemy are upon us !" shouted Captain
Sam, not forgetting his position as commander,
even in the midst of alarms. "The enemy are
upon us Charge bayonets "
There were no bayonets to charge with, and,
even if the Nine had had them, the enemy were
not to be seen. When the boys rushed out into
the open, where the fire was dying down into
embers, nobody was to be seen. There was not a
sound of the enemy.
Come out of your hiding-place, you cowards! "
shouted Captain Sam, valiantly. They waited for
a moment to see if anybody would break cover.
.Then a voice in the darkness replied:
Oh, hush up, you petty tyrant !"
Then everybody knew that Jo Murch had gone
over to the White Bears.
This insult to the captain was more than he
could bear. He rushed into the shadow of the
wood from which the voice had come, and, belabor-
ing the thicket with a thick stick, he presently
uttered a loud yell and rushed back to camp with
a bleeding nose.
First blood for the White Bears shouted a
voice, derisively, from behind a clump of spruce-
Billy Hetherington, flying in the direction of
the sound, saw Joe Fitts, the center-fielder of the
White Bears, sneaking around to get into the
camp. Without thinking of the bigness of Joe,
who was twice as tall as Billy, the boy threw him-
self on him, crying: "A spy in the camp! A spy
in the camp In another moment the two boys
were wrestling on the ground, Billy underneath.
But Blackie was not far off, and, before Joe Fitts
could turn his head to see what had happened, the
agile black boy was on his back, pummeling him
with a very fair-sized fist. Joe roared for mercy,
and, in the midst of the tumult, Tom Tilden came
up and Joe was made a prisoner.
First prisoner for the Fairports now shouted
Captain Sam, in derision, to the hidden White
Bears. His only answer was a big stone that
came whirling out of the bushes and fell, without
any injury to anybody, into the fire, which was
now heaped up with fuel.
Joe Fitts, the prisoner, contentedly sitting by
the cheerful blaze, refused to give any account of
the numbers and purposes of the White Bears.
"You know, fellows," he "explained, it would n't
be the fair thing for me to tell on my own crowd,
and you had n't ought to ask me, now, and you
know it."
Billy suggested that their prisoner might be put
to torture, as once was the custom in warfare.




Tie him to a tree and stick splinters into him,"
suggested Hi Hatch, who was a deeply learned
reader of Indian massacres and Indian fights.
Tom Tilden, who had great admiration of his own
fighting prowess, invited the captive to a rough-
and-tumble wrestle, no tripping, underhold, and no
biting nor pulling hair. This contest was sternly
forbidden by the captain, and Joe was tied to a
birch-sapling-to wait for developments.
It was now past midnight, and the moon had
begun to sink in the west. The air was chill, and
the excited boys were cooling off, as the attack
had, somehow, ceased. The besieged party were

Suddenly, from the darkest portion of the wood
opposite the door of the camp, emerged a solitary
figure. It was that of an old man dressed all in
black, with a cocked, or three-cornered, hat on his
head, and with white hair hanging down on his
shoulders. His face was covered by a full black
beard, and everything about him was black, except
his hair and a red feather in his hat. Bright
buckles glistened at the knees of his small-clothes,
and in his hand he carried a gigantic cutlass. This
strange figure, emerging from the darkness of the
wood, stopped short when it had reached the open
space, farthest from the fire. Then it waved the


uncertain what to do. Let's make a charge into
the woods and rout them out," said "the Lob,"
who was too clumsy to fight, although he was the
champion catcher of the Nine.
Just then, a strange thing happened.
The camp was built with one side toward the
shore, which was below, at the base of the rocky
and wooded bluff. In front of the camp was a
cleared space, in which burned the camp-fire, and
all around, and beyond, where the broken ground
finally rose to a considerable height, were thickets
of spruce, hemlock, fir and pine, with a few tall
and thick beeches and birches mingled in between.

cutlass three times in the air, and remained motion-
Breaking the painful silence, Joe Fitts, tied to
the sapling, ejaculated: "The Black Stover, as
I'm alive! "
At this the figure waved its cutlass three times
again, as if to say this was correct. The boys
gazed spell-bound for a moment, when Captain
Sam, with a perceptible quaver in his voice,
shouted "Who are you?" The figure made no
other reply than to point downward to the ground
with its cutlass, as if digging, and then, turning,
it was about to vanish into 'the woods, when Ned




Martin and Tom Tilden rushed forward swiftly and
silently and, without a word of warning, grabbed
the specter by the legs and brought him to the
ground with a tremendous thud. That ghost must
have weighed at least one hundred and ten pounds.
Instantly, as it fell, a crowd of White Bears plunged
from the wood and threw themselves on Tilden and
Martin, who manfully resisted every effort of the
ghost to get away, helped though it was by its com-
rades. A re-enforcement from the camp now rushed
up, and Captain Sam, throwing himself into the
struggling heap of boys, tore from the head of the
apparition a wig of hemp and .a massive set of
whiskers made of black moss. He was proceeding
to insult the ghost of the Black Stover still further,
when that discomfited specter cried, in the unmis-
takable language of a White Bear and a Mullett:
"I surrender, fellers! Le' me up So the ghost
got up, with his nose bleeding profusely, and dis-
closing the familiar form of Eph Mullett, otherwise
"Nosey." It was Ephraim's habit to talk through
his nose.
Second blood for the Fairport Nine," observed
Pat Adams, gravely. The White Bears acknowl-
edged themselves defeated, "for once," they said,
with an unpleasant attempt at sarcasm. So a truce
was sounded, and the late combatants sat down
around the fire, and discussed the battle with great
Oh, were n't you fellers just scared out of your
wits, though said Peletiah Snelgro.
"No, we were not," answered little Sam Murch,
who.had stood guard over the prisoner while the
rest of the force went to the attack on the ghost.
At this, everybody laughed good-humoredly, ex-
cept Jo Murch, who kept at a distance from Cap-
tain Sam, and who did not think that his small
brother had any business in the camp of the Nine,
"Well," said Billy, I '1 own up that I was
scared when I heard the whisperings and the treads
about in the darkness and the night, when all the
rest of the fellows were sound asleep and snoring."
Snoring! Come now, I like that cried Hi
Hatch. I never snore. No fellow ever snores.
Leastways, I never knew anybody who owned up
that they did."
"It was n't the snoring that frightened you,"
said Dan Morey, the left-fielder of the White Bears.
It was the ghost of the Black Stover a-coming
after his buried treasure."
"Just as though anybody could n't tell that that
was a real fellow sneered Ned Martin, who was
not a little proud of the courage and presence of
mind with which he had assaulted the ghost.
Well," yawned the specter, "I don't know
how it is with you chaps, but I am clean beat out,

and have n't been so sleepy since the wreck of the
'Royal Tar.'" The "Royal Tar" was a steam-
ship which had been burned on the bay, at a date
when some of the smaller boys were too young to
know much about it, although they had been told,
in later years, of the horrible sight of the wild
beasts of a menagerie which was on board, leaping
from the burning cages and plunging into the
waters of the bay to perish. So, when Eph said
that he had not been so sleepy since the wreck of
the Royal Tar," and it was known that he had
sat up all night to see the wonderful and tragical
fire, they felt.for him an immense respect.
"Well, I was only four years old when the 'Royal
Tar' was burned," said Hi Hatch, "but I can lick
any fellow who says I am not sleepy." So saying,
he looked around and met no answer but a general
chorus of yawns.
Even the sound of the night-birds was hushed,
and the white streaks of the dawn were paling the
eastern sky, as besiegers and besieged, friends and
foes, White Bears and Fairports, lay down together
and slept peacefully around the smoldering fire.



A FEW days after the great muster and camp-
ing-out of the Nine, Billy and Blackie lounged into
the village apothecary's shop. It was a curious
old place, highly attractive to the boys on account
of its being the only shop in town where stick
licorice, snake-root, gamboge, and other things
necessary to a boy's happiness, were sold. On the
shelves, too, were ranged glass jars, known as
"specie jars," filled with sticks of peppermint and
sassafras candy, and in the back shop, aromatic
and pungent with strange odors, were produced
divers sweet and palatable' syrups recommended
for coughs and colds, and so greatly relished by
the children of the village that they sometimes
aggravated their slight disorders for the sake of
having a dose of one of these honeyed mixtures.
"Now that's a mighty cur'ous coin," said the
apothecary, a tall, spare and bald man, wearing a
pair of tremendous spectacles on his nose. It was
a silver coin, about as large as a quarter of a dollar,
but much thinner. On one side was a rude repre-
sentation of a pine-tree, with an illegible inscrip-
tion about the rim. On its other side was the
inscription "New England-An-Dom," and in
the center of this the date, 1652," under which
were the numerals, "XII."
"Yes; a mighty cur'ous coin," repeated Mr.
Redman, slowly. "How did you ever come across
that, Abel?"




Now Abel Grindle was a close-fisted and close-
mouthed old farmer who lived "off the Neck,"
as that portion of the main-land immediately ad-
joining the peninsula of Fairport was called. And
to Redman's question he replied, I don't know
that it makes the leastest mite of difference to
you where I got it from. Duz it ? It's good


money. Wuth a shilling, ain't it? Looks to me
as if 't was, and I cal'late I know good money
when I see it. It's wuth a half a pound of rat-
p'ison, anyways, and that's all I want to-day, Rat-
p'ison haint riz, has it, Mr. Redman ? "
"Why, it's a Pine-Tree shilling! exclaimed
Billy, who had managed to get a sight of the coin
which the druggist was turning to the light. My
father has got one of them, which his grandfather
had. That was coined by the Province of Massa-
chusetts, ever so long ago, when Maine was a part

of Massachusetts, and Massachusetts had n't set up
for herself."
Billy paused, with his face flushed at his bold-
ness, as well as with excitement over the discovery
of a Pine-Tree shilling being offered "in trade"
for rat-poison.
"Smart boy," said the apothecary, looking ap-
provingly at Billy over his
"Too pesky smart for any-
thing," muttered the farmer.
"If you know so much,
youngster, perhaps you can
tell me what this is," and the
old man displayed on the
pain of his dingy, seamed
and horny hand an irregularly
shaped lump of silver which
looked as though it had been
hammered out flat and then
stamped. It was thick in the
middle, and thinner at the
edges. On one face was
stamped something which
looked like a Greek cross, in
two angles of which were
two queer-looking creatures,
S.r hearing on their hind legs, and
S probably meant for rampant
iilions. In the-other two angles
S! of the cross were castles, and
scattered over the piece were
letters, but so worn that they
could hardly be read. The
'I'' other face of the strange coin
bore a complicated design,
and the only parts of it which
S could be made out were two
upright pillars, bearing some-
thing like leaves on their tops.
"That's the ,Spanish pil-
lars, fast enough," said the
S apothecary, musingly. "And
that 'Hisp' must mean Span-
ish, I cal'late. Put yoursharp
eyes onto it, Billy."
"I 'm afraid I don't know what this is," said
Billy, modestly, "but those are the Spanish pillars,
sure enough, and oh! here's the date! 1667!
Why, what an old fellow it is! "
Now Blackie, taking the coin into his hand,
Aha I know what this is It's what we
read about in The Pirate's Own Book. Don't you
remember, Billy, those 'pieces of eight'? I don't
know why they were called 'pieces of eight,'
though; there is a big 8, and a 'P' and an 'E'



;-~s~- ~ '

.I -



right up there between those pillars. Some folks
call them cob dollars, I don't know why, unless
Gen. Cobb first dug 'em up, for they are mostly
dug up."
"The nigger is a smarter boy than the other
one," said Abel Grindle, with a sour smile.


"They were dug up, every one on 'em, on my
farm off the Neck."
The eyes of both boys fairly shone with amaze-
ment at this tale. But the apothecary only put
his spectacles on top of his bald head and said:
" Land sakes alive You don't say so." In New
England, at least in those days, it was not the cus-
tom of the people to be surprised by anything.
Before night, the entire population of Fairport
knew that Abel Grindle had found on his farm
several thousand pieces of silver money. Some
said that there were two thousand dollars, and
some said that he had found ten thousand dollars
in gold and silver. The truth was that he had
found about two thousand pieces, but many of
them were very small, scarcely as large as the
fourpence ha'penny, or six-and-a-quarter-cents
coin, which circulated then. But in the treasure
were many of the big thick "pieces of eight"
which Sam Black had described; and
then there were Pine-Tree shillings and
sixpences, French crowns, half-crowns --
and quarter-crowns, besides numerous
coins of Spanish and Portuguese origin,
the original value of which nobody
Abel Grindle had been picking up the .;
rocks and stones which plentifully cov-
ered his fields, when, turning over a
flat rock, about as big as a bake-kettle
cover," as he expressed it, his aston-
ished eyes fell on a heap of coins, tar-
nished' and dusty, but showing that
they were once good, honest money.
Nobody could tell who had put them there,
but public opinion, after the excitement had
somewhat subsided, settled down to the belief that
this was some of the "Black Stover's" ill-gotten
gains. And more than one ancient gossip, shak-
ing her head wisely, said that "it was master

strange that Mrs. Hetherington's son should be
the first to have a good square look at the money
which her grandfather had hid away in the
As for Billy, his imagination was fired anew by
this wonderful discovery. In their secret talks, he
and his black chum discussed the matter so ear-
nestly that they finally resolved to try their luck at
money-digging. Many an expedition through the
pastures did the youngsters have before they could
make up their minds where to dig. There was
scarcely a spot on the entire peninsula which did
not have a history to it. All around the old Fort
George were marks and scars of the battles of the
Revolution; and in the fort-field, as it was called,
the plow of the farmer often turned up a brass
button with a big 82 on its rusty surface, show-
ing that it belonged to the uniform of some poor
soldier of His Britannic Majesty's 82d Foot.
Down by the shore, below the town, were the
ruins of the old French fort, built by the exiled
baron, who, in 1667, established himself here, and
married an Indian wife from the tribe of the Tar-
ratines. Near by, too, was the very spot on which
the pirate, Gibbs, was said to have landed to hide
in the earth the rich booty which he had taken
from the traders of the Spanish Main and the
West Indies. Near the light-house, farther down
the shore, and toward the entrance of the bay,
were mysterious caves and fissures in the rocky
precipices of the bluffs, in which dark deeds were
said to have been done in ancient times. And on
the top of Block-house Hill were the remnants of
an old foundation, under which it was said and be-
lieved that the British had hidden the plunder of
rich prizes captured along the coast, and which


they had left behind them in the hurry of their
flight, when they finally left this part of the
All over the pastures were low rings of earth,
usually about fifteen feet in diameter, where once
had been what seemed miniature forts. But these




- '


were too small for any warlike purpose. Besides,
they were scattered about without any reference to
the forts and batteries which had been built in the
old times by the fighting races that, one after
another, had occupied the peninsula. Nobody
could guess why these mysterious rings on the sur-
face of the earth had been made. Billy and Sam,
after much debate and hard thinking, came to the
conclusion that they marked spots where money
was buried.
At some time in his life, every Fairport boy had
tried his hand at money-digging. Blackie and
Billy, when they resolved to try theirs, came to the
sensible conclusion that it was not worth while to
bother with incantations and spells. Here was old
Abel Grindle, who, while Ma'am Heath and the
rest of the wise ghost-seers were trying magic
spells and hunting for buried treasure with divin-
ing-rods, had actually turned up a heap of money,
in broad daylight, and while he was engaged in
the particularly hard and commonplace work of
picking up rocks on his farm.
Nevertheless, it was thought safest, almost neces-
sary, to dig for money at night, and as near mid-
night as possible; so, with much secrecy, the two,
boys smuggled into the orchard behind the Heth-
erington house a pickax, two shovels and a crow-
bar. To these were added several tallow candles,
a ball of twine, and a meal-bag in which the treas-
ure was to be carried home.
Now it chanced that on the very night which
Billy and Sam had chosen for their secret expedi-
tion, Captain Sam Perkins and his trusty lieuten-
ant, Ned Martin, had resolved to carry out a
long-cherished piece of mischief. In front of the
old fort above the town lay an ancient gun, a twenty-
four-pounder, which had been left to rust and
decay ever since the fort was dismantled. Chil-
dren played about its black muzzle, and the birds
of the field billed and flirted with each other at
the vent where once flashed the ill-omened fire.
On one Fourth of July, some of the patriotic citi-
zens lifted the mouth of the cannon from the grass
and put a big stone under its muzzle, and fired
it in honor of the day. So there it lay, and the
two boys, furtively hoarding their powder, and hid-
ing it in the hay-loft for weeks and weeks, finally
got together enough to load the old piece once.
It was a dark night when Sam and Ned, who
had slept together at Ned's house, as being nearest
the fort, slipped out of bed, down the water-con-
ductor, and off to the fort. As they crept by
Deacon Adams's house, they heard the tall old
clock in his front entry strike twelve. They shiv-
ered. The night was not very cold. Quickly was
the cannon loaded with grass, wet moss, and any-
thing that would "make the old thing speak." A

slow match was slipped into the touch-hole, and
back to the house, up the conductor, and into bed,
went the young artillerymen. Then they lay and
waited in breathless silence for the report which
did not come.
Meanwhile, the two money-diggers, meeting at
the appointed apple-tree in the Hetherington or-
chard, gathered up their tools, and swiftly and
silently sped across the fields to the old fort. At
the south of the fort was the earth-ring which the
boys had selected for their operations. It was
fourteen feet across, and not more than nine inches
above the level of the ground. Stretching two
lengths of string across from four points opposite
each other on the outer rim of the circle, they
found the middle of the ring at the place where
these crossed each other. It had been decided
that it was necessary to dig for money in the
"Now you go it with the pick, and I will handle
the shovel," whispered Sam. And when I make
motions with my hand, so, you take the shovel for
a spell." For it had also been decided that it was
absolutely necessary that not a word should be
said while the digging was going on.
It was hard work, and the boys, who had been
shivering in the cold, moist air, were soon in a glow
of perspiration. They stopped to breathe, peering
down into the hole, already nearly two feet deep,
when off in the darkness somewhere they heard
a muffled thud, as of somebody ramming down a
cannon. Sam shivered and shook perceptibly.
Billy put his finger warningly on his lips. Then
they exchanged glances, for they knew that that was
only a trick of the ghostly guardian of the buried
treasure to make them speak. But, as they bent
to their work again, each boy felt a chilly sensation
glide down his backbone.
A few minutes later, Sam and Ned, turning un-
easily in Ned's bed, wondered why that cannon did
not go off. It seemed to them that it had been an
hour since they left the fort. Really, it was not
fifteen minutes.
"We might as well go up and see what's the
matter, Ned. It 'll never do to let the load stay in
until to-morrow."
Sam's right leg was already out of the window
when a prodigious explosion took place. It seemed
as if the town were blown up by a mine underneath.
Then there was a sound of jingling glass from
windows broken by the concussion. Then other
windows were heard opening in the darkness.
Anxious female voices called across the street to
village neighbors, asking what the land-a-massy's
sake had happened." Then there were the patter-
ings of many feet on the wooden sidewalks. But
nobody knew where to look for the cause of the



frightful explosion. Probably, thought some of
the timid folks, it was an earthquake.
Blackie and Billy were hard at work, Blackie
digging and Billy shoveling. They had a good-
sized hole made in the earth, and no goblin had
come to disturb them. : Awkwardly handling his
shovel, Billy smote his chum a hard blow on his
toe. Sam, smarting with pain, dropped his pick,
and, grasping his wounded toe in his hand, cried:
"Ouch!" In an. instant, the air was red with flame,
and a tremendous peal of thunder, louder than any
cannon, burst in the direction of the front of the
old fort; There was a rattle of something jingling,
and then all was still. The only sound in that part

of the fort-pasture was the swift brushing of bare
feet through the dewy grass, as two badly scared
boys darted across the hill, flew over the stone wall,
scudded through the orchard, and finally buried
themselves deep down in the hay in Judge Hether-
ington's barn. So deep did they bury themselves
that they did not hear the voice of the Judge call-
ing, William, my son, where are you ?"
So deep did they bury themselves that when,
next morning, Reuben Gray, the hired man,
trampling over the hay, felt something lumpy
underfoot, dragged out first a black boy, then a'
white one, both of these, sitting up, said, as in a
chorus, "Was it an earthquake ?"

(To be continued )



S HE visitor among the
lower parts of New
York city, far from all
I' the pretty shops, and
: toward the river-side
east and west, finds
-. .only narrow, crowded
S streets, gas factories,
S buzzing mills, and
big-chimneyed iron-
works. As he comes
nearer the shore, he sees piles of rope and chain.
Masts of vessels loom up before him, and everything
looks unclean, busy and disagreeable.
But here live more families to each block than
are in a quarter of a mile of houses in clean, up-
town districts. Grimy-faced children flock in the
streets and play tag under the horses' noses.
Sometimes a ten-years-old boy will be seen trun-
dling his little brother in a baby-wagon, and per-
haps smoking, at the same time, the end of a cigar
which he doubtless had begged from some passing
stranger. Lively little fellows they are, too. They
are knowing in street sights, and quick to find out
where they can have some fun "; for a boy who
never had a good pair of shoes nor a whole jacket
in his life will somehow manage to get his fun, and
plenty of it, though not always of a good sort.
There is one thing, however, that may be said
of these poor boys and girls. They are energetic,
and skillful to make the most of what they have.
It would be well if all happier boys and girls would
only keep their wits bright, and try as zealously to

understand all they see in town and country, as
do these street-urchins. Many little fellows, who
do not have even proper food and clothing, yet be-
come active and strong by taking plenty of exercise
and living so much in the open air.
The way these rollicking children appreciate the
free baths shows that they know a good thing when
they find it.
You ought to see how these floating houses look,
and try to imagine the noise made by 200 children
jumping, splashing and screaming with all their
might. From five o'clock in the morning until nine
at night the great tank is never empty. Some-
times, on a very warm day, the bathers are enjoy-
ing themselves so much that the superintendent
cannot get them out when it comes time to close.
They hide away in dark corners and under the
platforms, so that the gas has to be turned down
in order to scare them into coming away.
One day, a merry party of ladies went down to
see all this,- and report -it for ST. NICHOLAS.
There was one to sketch, you may be sure, and
one to write, and-the rest were like the "three
pretty maids" in the nursery song,-" One could
dance and one could sing, and one could play on
the violin." They all left the street-cars at Gouv-
erneur street, and walked across a block or two to
the river-side. There they saw, close to the shore,
a pretty little flat-roofed house, right in the water,
and looking for all the world like a "Noah's Ark."
It was neatly painted, and there was a noise com-
ing from it something like what is heard in a
school-yard at recess time. I think you all know





how that sounds! But there was no way to get
in. The bath-house stood about ten feet away
from the wharf, with deep water between. At last
we espied a sort of bridge across the chasm; and
so, pretending that the bath-house was an old
medieval castle, and we an attacking party, we
made our way boldly over this draw-bridge. It
was defended by only one policeman, after all;
and what could he do against five determined
ladies? He did not try to make any resistance, but
surrendered at once. When we inquired for the
superintendent, he showed us the way with much
politeness. We went upstairs, and came out on the
gravel roof. The bath-house is built in the shape
which you older young-folk will know as a hollow
square. In the big open space which the house
incloses we saw a delicious bath of clear green
river-water, only four feet deep, with the bright
sun shining down through it, making one long to
become a mermaid at once.
And what are these darting little figures, shoot-
ing out across the water with such agility ? Surely
they are not frogs ? But can any merely human
creatures be so lively and so perfectly at home in
the briny deep, as the poets call it? They are
children, after all,-only girls to-day,-screaming,
laughing and racing across the tank. They are
having a game of tag while they swim. Of course,
they must not touch the floor, but can dodge right
and left, and dive right under the pursuer. Ah!
rare fun is tag in the water !
Many of these little girls have work to do at
home, and cannot get away easily; but almost all
of them have some baby-tending to do, and when
they go out with their little brothers and sisters,
they take an old night-dress, or garment of some

The baby-tender is very likely to be standing at
the side of the bath, looking on while she awaits.
her turn. I must tell you of a woeful accident


sort, to bathe in, and they club together to secure that once befell one of these amateur nurse-girls.
a swim for each. One girl takes care of three or There was an exciting race going on, and the girl
four babies, while her companions are in the pressed close to the railing, eager not to lose a bit
water. After awhile, she has her chance to go in. of the spectacle. Presently, she quite forgot the
When they come out, they are clean and fresh and poor ragamuffin of a baby that she was holding in
her arms, and relaxed her grasp. The
-_ child, too, was just old enough to take an
interest in things, and at last he became
so excited that he jumped right out of the
girl's arms into the water. Of course,
there was a great shout from all the
_- "Miss' Bennett! Miss Bennett!" they
_.- cried. "There is A baby fallen in! "
Miss Bennett heard, and prepared im-
mediately to jump down from the roof
S-- of the bath-house, where she was watch-
ing things from a high position, always
glowing, and much the better "mentally, morally ready for an accident. Meanwhile, the girl who
and physically," as an old gentleman I know is dropped the child was so paralyzed by fear that
fond of saying, for their dip in the salt water, she positively could not move; so she kept still




and said not a.word. And, as the baby was such
a forlorn bundle of rags any way, the next thing
they all thought was that he was only a play-

baby, thrown in for a joke. So they all laughed
and went on with the game, and Miss Bennett took
no further trouble, and the poor girl had not even
yet found the use of her tongue. By this time,
several minutes had passed. And did the poor
baby drown? Not a bit of it! All in his rags,
he just floated about hither and thither as the waves
sent him, and crowed with

trouble. But that is precisely the first step which
costs. A good swimming-teacher makes it an
easy lesson, even to the weak and nervous, gen-
erally the very ones who most
need to know how to swim.
When a child, or indeed a
grown person, finds that he
can actually float and swim,
he feels a swelling pride that
only personal accomplishments
S can give. It is nearly as won-
derful to him as if he had
learned to fly. He thinks he
can never be afraid of any
danger or difficulty again.
Sometimes, one lesson is
enough to teach the proper
motions, and the rest is mere
practice. Soon one acquires
the strength to go from one
end of the bath to the other,
and then he tries to see how many times he
can do it without stopping. What fine deep
breaths he takes How his chest rounds and fills
out! How determined he becomes never to
give up till he can do his mile without stopping !
Then he sees the other boys diving, and he will
never be happy till he can do as much. Floating,

joy to find himself in the
fresh, cool water. He -
kicked about his little legs -
and moved his arms just- -
enough to keep himself .
afloat and straight, and
was none the worse for his
adventure, until a big ship
passed by outside and sent
in a wave that doused the
little object and made him
Then, you may be sure
there was a sensation!
Twenty girls ran to pick
up the poor baby Moses,
and he was taken home and
petted and cuddled to his
heart's content. --
Swimmingis almost what
Dogberry said of reading -
and writing, -"It comes -- -
by nature." Hardly any- HIDING UNDER THE BATH-HOUSE.
thing is so easy to learn,
if only you are not afraid. The younger you be- swimming on the side or back, "going to sleep,"
gin, the better; but "it is never too late to mend." using only the arms as propellers, or only the legs,-
If you have the courage to throw yourself flat on all the fancy steps," in short,-must be acquired
the water and kick, you will have no further before he can ever be satisfied. And soon he





becomes almost amphibious. He becomes so skill-
ful that he is equally at home on land and water.
I have seen a row of young people take hold of
hands and jump down twenty feet into the river,
swim off under water awhile, and then, coming to
the surface to take breath, strike out for a race,
and have a general scramble at 'the winning-
post. All this is without wanting to touch
ground, of course. And I have known a
swimming-teacher in Germany to take a little
girl by the arms, and swing her around his
hi .' i i ih: ir. .- i hl .n tl .:, 1,._ i i t.- l, e
w ar r .: b- ii ht l 3 :r. .u :L. .-\i :l :..

a7 .:r i-, i .2 i i r I t .. r.l. -- r Ii |u i I I
n ..I :r h :rh[ i fI -r. u PII : I. l lih,- ,
h ..,.. ,. ...r, i l l r l- [I :o r-u 1 b. %-1 in d iiln -
n ,nr. ; : tah, : I :.. .i I '.i it.. ir i: iu l c .. i ill.

'li.l t- .i. i l. m,, i i luh ii :, itk J -i.r. i
c ar'-- ; i i'i' 2', o r l": ':.i i 'L'l ,rin : [Lt., \.: ti ItI,
a0 -v r,-. v.r..- 1-dl. h,,i thl, ht ri h t..c :h_.-:

r: 1,-l.i ,_,f Cll ran.--:'uri 1 th, i.a,-r.

You cannot imagine what a useful as well as
pleasure-giving institution the free swimming bath
is, unless you yourself have been to the place and
seen the happy change in the appearance of the
little bathers, and in the expression of their
faces. And, when once you have seen this sight,
you will realize what stores of health must come
to these poor little folk from even a week's reg-
ular exercise of this kind in the cool water, and
from the joyful times they have together.


VOL. VII.-59-




BY H. H.


I BEGAN to be naughty very early that day. I
began immediately after breakfast; and breakfast
was over before eight o'clock.
It was a beautiful bright warm morning in April;
one of those days when children always carry their
bonnets and hats and outside jackets swinging on
their arms, and beg their mothers to let them put
on thinner clothes. I don't doubt that I said to
my mother that morning: "Oh, don't make me
wear my cloak! I shall roast alive in it It 's as
hot as summer, out-doors." I do not recollect
saying this, but I have no doubt I did, and that
my good and wise mother replied:
Helen, these spring days are very deceitful.
They are warm for a few minutes, and then they
change suddenly and become very cold, and people
who have gone out in thin clothes get dreadful
colds. You must wear your cloak, my little
At any rate I recollect that I wore my cloak, and
I felt very cross because I had to wear it, and this
was the beginning of my naughtiness. That cloak
cost me a great deal of suffering, first and last. It
was made out of very bright plaid, red and green,
and I felt as conspicuous as a scarecrow in it.- Do
you wonder? There was not a child, nor a grown
person, either, in our whole town, who was seen
wearing bright red and green plaid, excepting my
sister and me, and when the boys at our school
wanted to tease us, they used to make fun of our
plaid cloaks. The way we happened to have them
was this:
At the time my papa and mamma were married,
bright red and green plaids were all the fashion for
ladies' cloaks; and my mamma had two of them
of different-sized plaids. The cloth was very nice
indeed, and cost a great deal of money, so that it
would not wear out in one person's life-time, which
is anything but a recommendation to a cloth, in
my opinion, especially when it leads to its being
handed down in a family from mothers to children,
as this red and green plaid was in our family.
By the time my sister and I were big enough to
have these cloaks made over for us, people had
almost forgotten that there had ever been such a
thing worn as these bright plaids. However, the
cloth was too good to be wasted; it was fine and

warm and soft; and so it was made up into two
school-cloaks for my sister Annie and me. On
rainy Sundays we had to wear then to church also,
to save our best ones. And that was the worst of
all. Many a time I have cried with shame an,4
mortification at the thought of walking up the aisle
in my plaid cloak. I felt as if everybody in the
church were thinking, What a queer cloak that
child has on." But probably not a single per-
son in the church remarked it, nor thought any-
thing about it. I was very silly. It is strange that
small things can seem so important to us when we
are small ourselves. We must be sure to out-
grow such smallnesses as fast as our bodies out-
grow their baby-clothes.
But I must not talk too long about that old
cloak. We have a long day before us.
As I said, I began to be naughty at eight o'clock;
that was the crossness about the cloak.
Mamma had told, us that we might go over into
"Baker's woods" and play till school-time, and'I
knew I could have twice as good a time without
that old cloak on as with it. It was horribly in the
way in climbing fences, and we had to climb three
going the shortest way to Baker's woods." How-
ever, we set off, and stopped on the way to get a
little playmate of ours to go with us. Her name
was Mary. She was a little younger than I was.
The chief thing I recollect about her is that- she
had beautiful blue eyes and very dark hair, and as
my own hair was very much the color of tow, and
my eyes were light-green, like a cat's, I used to
look at blue eyes and black hair with envy.
Baker's woods was a small pine-grove. The
trees were very large and high and far apart. The
ground was covered with the fallen pine-needles,
piled up so thick that when you walked it felt as if
you were walking on a hair mattress. At the
lower end of the grove the trees were closer
together, and there was some underbrush; here
we sometimes found little clumps of the Indian-
pipe, and just outside this part of the grove, in a
field full of stumps, checker-berries grew.
Our school did not begin until nine o'clock, and
it was not more than ten minutes' walk from the
grove. So we had plenty of time to get back after
the academy bell rang, at a quarter before nine,
and we promised our mother we would set out to
come back the minute we heard that bell ring.




It did not seem as if we had been in the woods
five minutes before it rang.
Oh dear cried Mary, there 's that hateful
old bell! "
At first I pretended not to hear it; but it was of
no use. It rang harder and faster; it could be
heard from one end of the town to the other.
Come," said Mary, we must go."
Let's stay here," said I.
We '11 get marked," replied Mary, timidly.
I don't care if we do," I replied.
This was a big fib, for I did care very much;

:- :- --

-. -- .
-- .:- '- -
-:- ;'^ '^^ .. -- '^" '%

: :: : ::--

". .- *E A' T-, I.
I. -- --_ .. .- -


but -just at that minute I cared a great deal more
for something else, something which was always
a pleasure to me, and that was to stay on in the
beautiful, green, fragrant woods.
Little Ann looked from one to the other. She
understood that it was a very naughty thing we
were proposing to do, and she began to cry. But
we hushed her, and told her we would go in a few
minutes, and then we sat down and began to eat
our checker-berries. It seemed to me that academy
bell never would stop ringing. Ding, ding,
ding," it kept on, and every "ding" seemed
louder than the last one.

Oh, Helen, let's go back 1 said Mary.
No," said I. You may go, if you 're such a
'fraid-cat. But I 'm going to stay in the woods all
day. You stay, too! We '11 have a splendid
time. I know a place in another grove-the next
one to this-where there are lots of little snails."
What! Real, live snails?" exclaimed Mary.
"Do they stick their horns out ? "
"Yes," said I. "They crawl around on the
under side of dead leaves. We 've seen hundreds
of them there."
This decided Mary, and she was in great haste
to be off to the wood in search of the snails. But
I was thinking of something else. You know I
told you this was the naughtiest day of my life. I
was thinking about little Ann, and what a trouble
she would be in a long day in the woods. I was
wondering if I could help her over the fences, and
then make her go back to the house alone. But,
naughty as I was, I did not quite dare to do that.
I loved my little sister very much, and I was afraid
she would get hurt. So I sat still, in some per-
plexity, looking at her and idly chewing a tough
old wintergreen-leaf. The academy bell had
stopped ringing, and the grove was as still as if
every living creature had gone to sleep. Suddenly
there came a sharp voice, calling:
"Children Children and, looking up, we
saw Mrs. Smith, our cook, leaning over the fence,
a few rods off.
Come right home this minute, you naughty
girls," she said. Did n't you hear that bell? I
know very well who 's at the bottom of this, and I
just hope your mother '11 give you a good whip-
ping, Helen Maria!" (I was always called Helen
Maria when I was naughty, a thing over which I
puzzled my brains a good many years.)
You get up off that damp ground this minute,
and come home; do you hear?" she continued,
getting redder in the face as she spoke. She was
very angry, for it was washing-day, and she hated
to lose her time looking up runaway children.
Little Ann ran as fast as she could toward the
fence, and Mrs. Smith lifted her up and set her
down on the other side.
Mary and I did not stir, and I am ashamed to
say that I made up the worst face I could at Mrs.
Smith, and called out: "Why don't you come
and get us and then, springing to my feet, I ran
farther back into the woods, and Mary after me,
as fast as our feet could carry us.
Mrs. Smith called, but we could not hear the
words she said, and, presently, we could not hear
her voice, nor see her when we looked back.
Then we stopped, out of breath, and sat down.
Good enough for the old thing," said I. If
she had n't been so hateful, I 'd have gone back."



You said we would stay all day," said Mary.
Well, I did n't mean to, really," I answered.
"It's all her fault for being so cross. Mamma
does n't allow her to speak to us like that. I heard
her giving her a real scolding one day, when she
had been snapping us up. She 's the crossest old
patch we ever had in our house."
Do you suppose you '11 get whipped?" said
Mary, who was anything but an exhilarating com-
rade for a runaway trip.
I dare say," cried I, as nonchalantly as if that
were the least of my concerns; "so we might as
well have a good time now. Come on and we
plunged into the thickest part of the woods,
through them, and across a field into the other
wood, where the snails were. Here there were no
pines, only maples, and you could see very little
sky, the tops were so close together. I had never
been in this wood but once, and then it was mid-
summer. Now it looked quite different: the
ground was matted with wet, brown, dead leaves,
and. we could not find any snails.
I guess they only come with the leaves in sum-
mer," I said to Mary, who was much disappointed.
She would never have come except for the snails.
Butwe found the little red blossoms of the maples
lying on the ground everywhere, and they looked
like little bits of red coral.
We roamed on and on till we came to the end
of this wood, and then across fields and into more
woods; and then out into fields again, till we got
so far away from the town that it looked like a
picture away up on the hill. The farther we went,
the happier I felt. It seemed to me that I should
like to go on walking from grove to grove and field
to field as long as I lived. I never once thought
about school nor my teacher, nor my poor father
and mother; all I thought of was the blue sky and
the sunshine, and the great world of fields and
woods stretching away as far as we could see.
"Mary!" I exclaimed, "I mean to go into
every single wood we can see-into those away
out against the sky-all there are in sight!"
Oh, Helen, we could n't," replied Mary, who
was not borne up by any such wild delight as I
felt. "We could n't! It would be miles and
miles, and, besides, we 'd get hungry."
"Hungry!" I had not once thought of that;
but I made light of it. "Oh, we shall find some
house where they '11 give us something to eat."
I 'd be ashamed to beg," said Mary, stoutly.
I would n't," retorted I. Lots of folks come
to our house begging for something to eat, and
Mrs. Smith always gives it to them."
I know," said Mary; but it 's begging."
"Well, I 'm not one bit hungry," I replied, "and
I don't believe I shall be, all day."

"No; I 'm not, either," said the wise Mary;
"it's only a little while since breakfast; but you
see if we 're not awfully hungry by noon."
And so we were. Dear me, how well I remem-
ber that hunger; it seemed actually to gnaw at my
stomach. We had roamed on from wood to wood,
from field to field, crossing and recrossing the
roads to which we came; now climbing a hill; now
diving down into swampy places; we had found
cones, and fungi, and moss, and acorns, and a few
snail-shells. Our aprons were so full we had to
take all the things out, and lay them on the ground
close to the bottom of every fence we climbed; and
then reach through and pick them all up again,
after we had climbed over. Our ankles were wet,
and our India-rubber overshoes were so coated with
mud, they felt as heavy as lead on our feet. I
think we must have been a very funny-looking little
pair of vagabonds; we were very tired and a little
cross, and Mary, who all the time had not more
than half wanted to come, was almost ready to
cry, when suddenly, as we came to the top of a
sandy hill, we saw a village lying below it.
Oh, goody I exclaimed. Here's Hadley !
I've been here often. I know it's Hadley."
So, indeed, it was. We were four miles from
home; but counting our ramblings in and out of
the woods, we had walked double that distance.
With the prospect of food my spirits rose. The
proud unwillingness to beg which Mary had felt
was all gone. We both ran down the hill as fast
as we could, and knocked at the door of a mean
little house, which stood near the road. A black
woman opened the door.
Will you please give us something to eat? we
both said at once.
"Well, now, that's queer," she said. "I jest
happen to be out of everything., I haint got
nothing in the house but a little butter. But the
folks next door, they '11 give ye suthin'; and she
eyed us very curiously. Where 'd ye come from,
anyhow?" she added.
But I did not choose to tell, and seizing Mary by
the hand, I ran away. At the next house the
woman had her bonnet and cloak on, and her
husband, who was with her, had his overcoat and
hat on; they were just that minute going out.
"Why, dear me! she said, kindly, "hungry
be ye? Dear me! You'd like some bread and
milk, would n't ye ? "
Oh, yes, ma'am !" we both exclaimed. In-
deed we would."
She looked at her husband. We can't wait,"
she said; "we're late now. How'll we manage
it? We must lock the house up."
Oh, give it to 'em, and let 'em sit on the door-
step and eat it. They can leave the things under




the bushes," he replied; so she hurried into her
pantry to get the bread and milk, and the man,
turning to us, said: "Look here, youngsters, I
reckon you 're honest. You just hide the bowls
and spoons under the lilac-bushes, when you're
done, and we '11 find 'em when we come home.
They'll be safe. We're goin' to the funeral.
Whose little gals be ye ?" he added, looking at us
as closely as the negro woman had looked.
We hung our heads and did not reply.
"Well, well," he said kindly; "look out and
get home before dark, whoever ye be. You're not
used to roamin' 'round country this way, I reckon,"
and he patted Mary on the head in a fatherly way,

wolves. How good it did taste; we drank every
drop of the milk and ate more than half the
bread; then we hid the bowls, as she had told us
to, under the lilac-bushes, and then we went out
of the yard and stood looking up and down the
street, and wondering what we should do next.
"Let's go home," said Mary. "Do you sup-
pose you can find the way, Helen ?"
"Find the way !" I replied, contemptuously.
"What a goose you are; the road 's as straight as
an arrow, all the way there. It is n't far. Let's
go into the village and see where the funeral is. I
think it's in the meeting-house. See the horses
and wagons tied there, just as they are Sundays."

~ ~ 72#. m



and called out to his wife ; "Be spry, Hannah, the
bell's 'most done tolling; we 'll be late."
She came running with two big yellow bowls full
of delicious milk-one in each hand; and under
her arm she had a loaf of brown bread.
"There," she said, giving each of us bowl, and
putting the bread down on the broad stone door-
step. Now, you just make yourselves comfortable,
and eat all you can; and when you're done you
push the bowls in among them lilac-bushes, and
nobody'll get 'em." Then she locked the door,
and put the key in her pocket, and walked away
with her arm in her husband's. They both
looked back at us and smiled kindly to see us
devouring our bread and milk like ravenous little

So we ran on till we came to the meeting-house.
The big outside doors stood wide open, and we
saw, standing close by one of the inside doors, a
bier, such as coffins stand on in a hearse.
"Yes," we whispered to each other, "the coffin
must be inside, in front of the pulpit; that's the
way they do sometimes."
Then the choir began to sing a sad, slow hymn.
"The funeral's begun," said Mary, in a low
whisper. We can't go in now."
"No," said I, "but we can sit down out here."
So we sat down on the bier, with our feet between
the slats; we felt very solemn, and sat very still.
Presently the sexton came out on tiptoes, and
when he saw us, he came up to us softly and said:




"Did you want to go in, children? Are your
father and mother in there? I'll take you in."
But we only shook our heads, and did not say
anything, and he went back again and left us.
After the singing was done, there came a sound
of a voice talking, but we could not hear any
words; so pretty soon we grew tired of sitting there
on the bier, and went out again into the street.
It was muddier than anything you ever saw in
your lives, unless you have been in some town on
the low banks of a river, where the river-water
-comes up into the streets of the town every spring.
The town of Hadley is on the Connecticut
river. You can see it on your map of Massachu-
setts. Every spring the snows melting in the mount-
ains make all the little brooks very full, and they
empty into the rivers, and make the water so high
that it overflows the banks. Sometimes it carries
away the bridges, and sometimes houses, also,
if they are built too near the edge of the river.
Once the water came up so high into the streets
of this town of Hadley, that people went about in
boats, and then there came a cold snap and froze
it hard, and all the men and boys in Hadley
got out skates and went skating up and down,
so as to say they had skated on the Connecticut
River, in Hadley's streets. Such a big freshet
as this had happened only once, I believe, since
the town was settled, but every spring a large
part of the meadows of the town was flooded with
water, and as for the mud,-well!-I told you you
had never seen anything like it, unless you had
been in Hadley or some other town, lying, as it
does, low on a river bank. And this is what hap-
pened to us next, all by reason of that Connecticut
River, and the mud it made every spring: As
we were picking our way across the street, after
we left the meeting-house, Mary suddenly gave
a scream, "Oh! I've lost my shoe off! and
there she stood on one foot, holding the other up
in the air. Sure enough, the mud was so deep
and sticky it had actually sucked her India-rubber
and her shoe inside of it, off her foot. She began
to cry : Oh, what shall I do What shall I do "
"Hop! Hop!" I said. "Hop on one foot;
I '11 get your shoe out "
But hopping with one's whole weight on one foot,
in such mud, was not a good thing, nor an easy thing
to do. At the first hop poor Mary gave, down she
went, so deep that the mud and water poured into
her other shoe, and she had to put her shoeless
foot down at once, to save herself from falling.
"Oh, dear, oh, dear!" said I. Never mind,
walk right along, now. We '11 go into a house
and dry your stockings. I '11 get a stick and fish
out your other shoe."
Such a time as I had to find a stick, and then,

when I got back with the stick, Mary had crawled
along out of the mud, and stood on the grassy
edge of the road, and we could' not see exactly
where the shoe had gone in. However, at last I
found it, and drew it out on the end of the stick.
It was dripping full of mud and water, and I had
to carry it as far off from me as I could. It makes
me laugh to this day, to think of the figure we
must have cut; poor Mary limping along with
her muddy stocking, and the tears rolling down
her cheeks, and I following after, with her shoe
and India-rubber on a long stick, and my feet also
dripping wet with mud. We did not dare go to
anybody's front door, in such a plight, so we crept
round to the back door of a nice-looking white
house. The door stood open, and the servant-
woman was washing the floor. It was Monday, and
she was just getting her kitchen in order after the
washing. As soon as she saw us, she screamed out:
Mercy on us Don't you come in on my clean
floor What's happened to you Who are you!
Don't you dare to set foot in here !"
Then she put down her mop and came to the
door and began to laugh, and to pity us, too, as
soon as she saw the tears on Mary's face. I told
her what had happened, and that I thought per-
haps some kind lady would let us wash Mary's

stockings and dry them by the kitchen fire.
The girl laughed harder and harder the longer
she looked at us, but in the bottom of her heart she
was very sorry for us, for she helped us to take off
our wet shoes and stockings on the door-step, and
then she sat us in chairs by the kitchen stove, with
our feet on other chairs, to warm and dry them.
There. You just sit still," she said, till I get
my floor dried off, and then I'11 sozzle out your
stockings for you."
(This was a great many years ago, but I never
have forgotten that word "sozzle.")
In a few minutes she had our stockings hanging
on the back of the chair, to dry them. She scraped
the mud off our shoes, and washed the inside of
Mary's shoe clean with a wet cloth, and set them
all under the stove. Then she went about her work
again, and took no more notice of us.
I kept pinching the stockings to see if they were
dry. I was very impatient to be off again.
Suddenly the kitchen door opened, and in came
the mistress of the house. As soon as she saw
us she gave an exclamation, and came very
quickly toward us.
Why, good gracious, I do believe these are
the very children! What 's your name? Did n't
you come from Amherst? she said, looking at
Mary, who was crying as hard as she could cry. I
whispered to Mary not to tell, but it was of no
use; she sobbed out: "Yes, ma'am."





And then I knew all was over for us. We
were caught. Before Mary had half finished her
" Yes, ma'am," the lady had run back to the door,
opened it, and called in an excited voice:
Here they are Here are the runaways! "
Exclamations followed, instantly, and the sound
of feet, and two gentlemen came hurrying into
the kitchen, saying:
"Where are they? What good luck! You
naughty children I expect you 're the one re-
sponsible for all this, Miss Helen Maria? "
And they gathered around the stove, and all
looked at us and talked about us till I wished
we could sink through the floor, or be dead, or
anything to get away from their eyes. These
gentlemen were two professors from Amherst Col-
lege, who had come over to the funeral which
we had seen in the meeting-house. They were
friends of my father, and of Mary's, and I knew
there was no escape for us now.
They said that a great many people were out
looking for us; that recitations in the College had
been given up, and the students were out search-
ing, too; that everybody feared we had wandered
away into some thick woods, where we would never
be found, and that our fathers and mothers were
frantic with distress. I cried a little when I heard
all these things, but still it did not diminish a desire
I had to go back to that pine-grove and sleep. I
think a sort of insanity had taken possession of
me, from my delight in the freedom and the out-
doorlife. I love it well enough now to understand
how I must have felt then.
These gentlemen had driven over in a buggy, so
they could take only one of us. I heard them
discussing which it should be, and I felt very angry
when they said, Well, we '11 make sure of Helen,
she 's the ringleader."
I did not know then what ringleader" meant,
and I thought it was much worse than it really is.
My shoes had been so shrunk up, by drying at
the hot stove, that it was hard to get them on, and
they hurt my feet terribly. But I said nothing,
I ate my supper in silence, and waited to see
what would happen. By this time I had wrought
myself up to a pitch of wild determination not
to be "captured," as I called it; but I saw no
loop-hole of escape; somebody's eye was on me
all the time.
Tea was over. I had been wrapped up in my
cloak, taken out, and put into thebuggy. Then the
kind lady, who was standing in the door-way talking
with one of the gentlemen, called:
"I 'm afraid that child is not wrapped up
enough. It will be very cold before you reach
(To be t

Amherst. Come back and I'll give you a warm
shawl to wrap around her."
The professor ran back to the house to get it.
"Now's my chance," thought I. In less than
a twinkling of an eye, I jumped out of the buggy
and ran at the top of my speed down the road which
led out of the village. It was dusk; it took several
minutes for them to get the shawl, bid the lady good-
bye and return to their buggy; and when they got
there, lo! no child was to be seen! I have often
wished I could have seen their faces at that minute.
However, they whipped up the horse and drove furi-
ously afterme. I doubt if any human being, running
for his life, ever strained his every muscle more
thoroughly than I did when I heard those wheels
coming behind me. I very nearly escaped. I had
reached the fence; if I had succeeded in climbing
it before I was overtaken, I should have easily
eluded my pursuers, and no doubt perished of cold
and fright before morning. But, luckily for me, I
was overtaken. From the very top rail of the fence
I was dragged down, none too gently it must be
confessed, and lifted again into that buggy. As
my captor put me on the seat, he shook me back
and forth very hard, several times, and said:
"You deserve a horse-whipping."
I don't wonder he was angry. He was quite out
of breath, and had come very near letting me slip
through his fingers. I sat very still till we came to
the pine-grove where our treasures were. Then I
begged piteously to be allowed to jump down and
get them; but all my entreaties were in vain.
This seems to me a grief even to-day.
About half-way between Amherst and Hadley,
we met a carriage driving furiously; it stopped, and
my grandfather's voice called: "Heard anything?"
Got one of them here," was the reply. Got
Helen. You '11 find Mary at Mrs. Seymour's."
Thank God said my grandfather, in a tone
which I recollect thinking at that time sounded
more like a growl than like a thanksgiving.
It was very dark when we reached my father's
house. I recollect very distinctly how his face
looked when I went into the room, where he was
lying on the sofa, utterly exhausted from anxiety
and fatigue. I do not remember anything about
my mother at that moment; but I think the best
account of the scene is in her own words, which I
read, years after her death, in a letter which she had
written to a friend, giving an account of the affair:
"Helen walked in," she said, "at a quarter
before ten o'clock at night, as rosy and smiling as
possible, and saying, in her brightest tone:
Oh, mother! I've had a perfectly splendid




S. HE was a rat, and she was a rat,
"." And down in one hole they did dwell;
.- ( And both were as black as a witch's cat,
And they loved one an-oth-er well.
He had a tail, and she had a tail,
Both long and curl-ing and fine;
And each said, "Yours is the fin-est tail
In the world, ex-cept-ing mine."
He smelt the cheese, and she smelt the cheese,
And they both pro-nounced it good;
And both re-marked it would great-ly add
To the charms of their dai-ly food.
So he vent-ured out, and she vent-ured out,
And I saw them go with pain;
But what be-fell them I nev-er can tell, _--=E
For they nev-er came back a-gain.


ER-HAPS you 'd like to hear a bit of a sto-ry, my dears?
Well, once up-on a time there was a lit-tie boy,
named Pe-ter, who could not wait to be a man.
"I want to be big," he said; "I want to reach
as high as the moon. I want to be the big,
big, big-gest man that ev-er lived." But still
he could n't be an-y-thing but a lit-tle boy,
nev-er mind how much he wished. He would
go a-round ask-ing ev-er-y one he met what he
must do to grow. One told him to eat green corn and
that would make him shoot up in-to the air; one told
him to stand in the wa-ter all day, and one told him
to lie down in the sun. Well, he tried all these things,
and they did no good. At last, a queer man told him if
he would fill his pa-pa's shoes full of yeast, and stand in





S. HE was a rat, and she was a rat,
"." And down in one hole they did dwell;
.- ( And both were as black as a witch's cat,
And they loved one an-oth-er well.
He had a tail, and she had a tail,
Both long and curl-ing and fine;
And each said, "Yours is the fin-est tail
In the world, ex-cept-ing mine."
He smelt the cheese, and she smelt the cheese,
And they both pro-nounced it good;
And both re-marked it would great-ly add
To the charms of their dai-ly food.
So he vent-ured out, and she vent-ured out,
And I saw them go with pain;
But what be-fell them I nev-er can tell, _--=E
For they nev-er came back a-gain.


ER-HAPS you 'd like to hear a bit of a sto-ry, my dears?
Well, once up-on a time there was a lit-tie boy,
named Pe-ter, who could not wait to be a man.
"I want to be big," he said; "I want to reach
as high as the moon. I want to be the big,
big, big-gest man that ev-er lived." But still
he could n't be an-y-thing but a lit-tle boy,
nev-er mind how much he wished. He would
go a-round ask-ing ev-er-y one he met what he
must do to grow. One told him to eat green corn and
that would make him shoot up in-to the air; one told
him to stand in the wa-ter all day, and one told him
to lie down in the sun. Well, he tried all these things,
and they did no good. At last, a queer man told him if
he would fill his pa-pa's shoes full of yeast, and stand in




them till the sun went down, he would reach the moon be-fore morn-
ing; and what did he do but try it! He took his pa-pa's shoes, aft-er
din-ner, and filled them with yeast, and stood in them and kept say-ing
to him-self: "Now, Pe-ter, up! Up! Up!" And what do you think?
Aft-er a long while, the yeast took ef-fect. He be-gan to rise; and he
rose and rose and rose till he could touch the moon. It was cold and
bright, and it flashed at him ev- er-y time he touched it. Well,
he soon got tired of this, and then he want-ed to
get down a-gain. But he could n't. He tried
and tried, and said: "Down,

Pe-ter! Down! Down !" But
it was of no use. Then he heard the man in
the moon say-ing, as an-gri- ly as could be: Kick off
your shoes, you stu-pid boy! "I He kicked them off, and
then what do you think hap-pened? Why, he be-gan to-to--to-

She wakes up.

Bless me! Here I 've been sit-tin' fast a-sleep in my kitch-en, ev-er
since the chil-dren went up to bed, and here 's the bread a-wait-ing to be:
knead-ed, and I a-dream-ing the sil-li-est, fool-ish-est dream that ever was !



"Do we know the children?" piped my birds,
indignantly, when I asked them the question.
"We should think we did! They are mon-
strous things without feathers, that flounder about
and stick to the grass or the trees and fences all
the time. Their eyes are like bright lakes, and
their open mouths are as big as our houses. Then
they have strange, broad, clattering voices that
shake the very air. Yes, indeed. We know them
a great sight better than they know us."
Prove it," said I, solemnly.
"Why, only the other day," they retorted, with
a merry bird-laugh, we heard the beautiful thing
with cheeks like nearly ripe peaches (you call it
the Little School-ma'am)-well, we heard it ask
them whether a little bird moved its upper or lower
bill, or both, when eating, and not one of them
could tell! "
"Away with you!" I cried, enraged. "How
dare you slander my youngsters in that manner?"
Then I cooled down, and said, quietly and sar-
castically: Of course, my friends, you know how
they eat ? You know perfectly well that their upper
jaw is movable, and their lower jaw is set so firmly
in their head that it will not move at all ?"
The little mites looked at one another with their
bright little bead-eyes, and changed the subject.
Would you like a song, Jack, dear?"
And, without waiting for an answer, they trilled
and carolled their way up into the blue sky, till I
lost sight of them altogether.

Now, here is news that is news !
A wise and happy man in Germany-none but
a wise man could have done it, and it must make
him happy to know he has done it-has contrived
what he calls a talking book."
On opening the volume, there appears upon one

page the picture of some animal, perhaps a sheep.
The opposite page has some reading matter, and
near the bottom is a string. Pull this string, and
a voice from the book cries Ba-a-a! just like a
sheep. The rooster picture crows, the cat sheet
mews, the duck page says Quack !" and so on.
Your Jack could tell you more about this clever
invention, but what would be the use ? The book
can speak for itself.

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Here is a true incident which your
young readers may find interesting. It was told me by the owner
of the kitten.
The janitor of the Butter Exchange (a large building with about
xoo rooms, on Westminster street, Providence; has a kitten, which
was in the habit of following him about as he cleaned out some of
the offices after business hours. To some of these rooms he had a
key, but the kitten followed him one evening into a room to which
he had no key, and which he soon left, the door closing with a
spring catch.
He thought no more about the matter until nearly an hour later,
when, on passing the door, he heard the kitten crying inside. The
ventilator over the door was open, and, taking a step-ladder, he
found he could look inside, but could not get inside to open the door,
nor did he see how he could help the prisoner to get out. At last
the plan struck him of taking off his coat, and letting it down inside
for the kitten to catch hold of, and thus be drawn up. But, although
the kitten seemed to catch his meaning directly, and made frantic
efforts to reach the coat by springing for it, yet the garment still
hung just too high. After several trials, he gave it up, and began
to draw the coat away. The kitten howled as the coat went up.
"Well," said the janitor, "one more trial, kitty, and this is your
last chance." And, sure enough, she caught her claws in the coat
this time, and was drawn up safely.-Yours, very truly,
W. E. F.
DID ever you hear of the Japanese baby-plant?
It does not grow real Japanese babies, but. the
birds tell me that it bears a blossom which is won-
derfully like a plump little baby, stretching out its
arms as if it wished somebody to take it. Even its
dimpled feet can be seen. A young girl writes to
the Little School-ma'am that the San Francisco
newspapers tell of a lady there who had just bought
one of these plants for three hundred dollars.
This seems a pretty big price, but if the plant
should bear about three hundred babies, it would
soon pay for itself.

MY DEAR JACK: Thank you for forwarding the letters from your
young people in respect to the hearts of animals and the true classi-
fication of spiders. One of these letters,-and a good one, too,-
reads like a page out of a book. Here it is:
"DEAR JACK: In reply to the Little ?-,....I ...,'.~. .\r.r;i ques-
tion, I should like to say that the most i. i..- i .:J. I r:. :...., .. does
not, I believe, place spiders in the same class with the true insects.
Spiders differ from true insects (class Insecta) in having four pairs of
legs, in having the head and thorax united in one segment, and in
having from six to eight simple eyes.
"The Little School-ma'am's statement that all animals have hearts
differs from the teachings of modern zoology. In the sub-kingdoms
Protozoa Coelenterata and Annuloida, no organ is found which can
properly be called a heart. I think that the Little School-ma'am
would find it pretty hard to see the heart, or any other organ, in those
specks of protoplasm which scientists call monera.-Yours,
"D. E. M."
Well, Jack, your correspondents are right; and that fine distinc-
tion between spiders and ,true insects is precisely what I wanted
to bring out. At the same time, when one is speaking in a
general way of articulated animals which are not worms and not
crustaceans, it is proper enough to call them insects, without referring
to the closely drawn lines of strict entomology. There is danger of
becoming pedantic in constantly bringing forward in ordinary talk
all the finest points; still, one ought to know them all the same.




As to thematter of the heart, I confess I overlooked those almost
or quite formless dots of jelly called monera, and those larger clots
known as amoebae, and all the rest of the vague border-life between
recognized animals and unmistakable plants. Theyhave no circula-
tion, because they have no blood; no mouth, because no digestive
organs; no feelings, because no nervous system; and so on. They
are nothing but bits of material such as that out of which the tissues
of our own complicated bodies are formed, and it is hardly certain
yet that many of them are not plants, nor even that they are living
matter at all.

ONE of your Jack's friends has brought in this
curious picture, which I turn over to you with his
Last autumn, I saw an oak-tree bearing what seemed to be small
brown apples. I picked one of these, split it, and found that it was a
woody ball, with hollow thorns which reached to its center and stuck
out their points beyond the rind. In each thorn was a grub, or else
a small fly.
Afterward, I found out that the fly is called "Saw-fly," because

-r" FROQ' N K. ll 111


When dealing with life of a higher order-with jelly-fishes, for
instance, which D. E. M. mentions,-whether there is a heart or not
becomes almost a question of definition, for they have a kind of circu-
lation kept up by the aid of the sea-water, and this circulation has a
sort of heart-center. But, of course, if you say that only that is a
heart which has auricles and ventricles to regulate and promote the
-circulation of the white or red blood, then, when mentioning creatures
with hearts, you must leave out nearly everything beneath the
mollusks in the naturalist's scale of animal life. That dim region
-of the Protozoa did not loom into my mental view when I used the
word "animals"; and I might well have doubted whether any of
your hearers had ever heard of it,-but, you see, some had. So, I
thank D. E. M and the rest for their letters, and I am glad they are
interested in the subject.-Yours truly, THE LITTLE SCHOOL-MA'AM.

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of him- on the sole of his sandal, and thus was
able to tread his foe under foot at every step."
Deacon Green sends the above extract from a
book about Ancient Egypt, and says: "Perhaps
this may prove a good hint for some of your very
fiery youngsters; but the charm of it is that the
plan also forces you to give your enemy a lift at
every step."
DEAR JA: If you have any friends among the fishes, tell them
to keep clear of the telegraph cables i the deep sea. A whale dashed
blindly against one of them off the coast of South America some
Dime r JACKn: although he managed to divide it, yet he so tangled
S..,..., f. ... the broken end that he was unable to rise to the sur-
face to breathe, and so was drowned. Truly yours, S. G.







"OUT of the way there! Clear the track! O-h-h-h! shouted
Raymond Brown, as he shot quickly over the asphalt pavement on
the pride of his heart, his new Colurhbia bicycle.
But it was too late; the man he intended to warn was only con-
fused by his cries, and turning, received Ray's arms with startling
suddenness about his neck, in an affectionate embrace which over-
threw both man and boy, with the machine on top of them.
The street, a quiet up-town one in New York, was much fre-
quented by the youthful bicyclers of the neighborhood, and four of
these now hastened to the assistance of their fallen comrade.
Fortunately, nobody was hurt, as the two had helped each other
to "come down easy"; but the man was angry, and scolded while
picking his beaver out of the road and dusting his coat.
No; I '11 accept no apologies," he concluded, as Ray attempted
to explain, "and I 'm only sorry you were n't on the sidewalk when
the thing happened, so that I could have you arrested, you.reckless
fellow," and he walked off.
'Much ado about nothing,' quoth Dick Ransee, the eldest of
"our set," and the owner of the finest bicycle on the block, a "regu-
lar tip-top one" from England.
"Guess he never was a boy himself," said Jack Fent, somewhat
contemptuously, as he helped Ray examine his fallen charger, in
search of injuries.
But they did n't have bicycles when he was a boy, you know,"
said Willie Francis.
Ray had by this time mounted again, and now the five were all in
motion once more.
"I say, fellows," proposed Ned Arthing, suddenly, after a period
of silence, "let's get up a bicycle club. I 've been thinking it over
for two or three days."
"I 'II tell you what," suggested Dick; "let's run into the 'home
station' and organize at once. What do you say?"
The proposal was immediately put into effect.
Now, the "home station" referred to was nothing more nor less
than the front basement of the Ransees' house, which had been
reserved for Dick's exclusive use ever since he had been in his teens.
It was the rallying point for all his friends, and had been fitted up at
different periods as a play-room, a circus, a gymnasium. a ship, an
aquarium, and latterly as the home of his three-wheeled "veloci-
pede," his Columbia "bicycle," and his English "machine." Each
of these was provided with suitable and ample quarters, huge illus-
trated circulars from the Boston and Coventry manufacturing com-
panies adorned the walls, and copies of the Bicycling World were
scattered everywhere.
To this retreat, then, the club-inclined five turned their wheels, and
the machines having been piled in the lower entry, their owners
perched one upon the table, another on a chair-arm, two on the
window-sill and a fifth on the sofa-back, and so proceeded to business.
The preliminaries did not occupy much time, as all were of one
mind in regard to the objects of the organization, as well as the
proper person for its captain, which could be none other than Dick
Ransee. The new captain gracefully acknowledged the honor,
accepted the position, and submitted the question as to what name
they should take.
The Wheelers" was at first proposed, but was rejected as being
too commonplace, and a compromise was effected by determining
upon that of "Wheeling," which was in turn given up, as tending
to locate the members in West Virginia. Many names more or less
high-sounding were suggested, but at last the lads decided to call
themselves simply the "Bicycle Boys."
Having been thus successfully inaugurated, the club prospered
finely, uniform caps and leggins were purchased, rules and regula-
tions adopted, and the members furnished with note paper stamped
with the name and insignia of the society.
And now, of course, they must have a "run."
"But how far?" inquired Willie Francis, somewhat anxiously,
when this was mentioned.
Oh, anywhere into the country," replied Dick, who was always
ready to go to the ends of the earth when once in the saddle.
"IHurrah for the Bicycle Boys' Parade!" cried the enthusiastic
Jack. "When shall we have it ?"
"Next Saturday! was the unanimous response.
"Meet, 7 A. M. sharp, at the Home Station, wet or shine," added
Captain Ransee; and during the remainder of the week the five could
talk of nothing else.
Saturday came at last, and the autumn morning dawned,-not
bright and clear, but cool and cloudy, "just the sort of weather for
a good long run," as Ned declared.
All were on hand at the appointed hour, with the exception of
Francis, who finally appeared at the sixty-fifth minute after six, rub-

bing his eyes with one hand, while he tried to steer with the other.
However, Dick's call of boots and saddles" with the shining new
bugle waked him up, and the five "B. B.'s" rolled off in fine style,
to the admiration of early small boys peeping through windows.
Dick, of course, led the way, and quickly they passed up the ave-
nue, on by the Park, and so into the country.
They had been running for some time over a quiet stretch of road,
and everything was working beautifully; Willie Francis had n't
fallen off once, while all the five were in high spirits and enjoying
themselves immensely; when all at once, Dick noticed that a pony
phaeton, which had been coming toward them, suddenly stopped.
A little girl got out of it, and came running up, waving her arms
wildly and with a look of horror and alarm on her face.
Stop! Stop! she cried, as she drew near the B. B.'s." And, in
some wonderment, Captain Ransee gave the signal to halt.
What's the matter?" he asked, as the little girl came up, quite
out of breath with her hurry.
Oh, please," she said, as soon as she could speak, our horse is
awfully frightened at v'locipedes, and sister Clara's afraid he 'II run
offifyou come any closer."
All right, then," replied the gallant Dick; we 'll stay quiet here
by the side of the road till you go past. Wont that do ? "
"Oh, goodness, no Why, Peter-he 's the horse-'most jumps
outside of himself at the very sight of a v'locipede," and the child
eyed the five machines askance.
"Then what do you want us to do?" pursued Captain Ransee,
patiently preserving his good humor.
Can't you turn round and ride back till we come to Aunt Isa-
bella's ? We're going there to spend the day, and if you would
only keep on a good deal ahead till we come to the gate, I don't
think Peter 'd mind."
How far is it to your aunt Isabella's ? asked Dick.
"About four miles," was the calm response, upon which the
"B. B.'s began to lose patience. '
Oh, bother take Peter muttered Ned.
"Suppose we blindfold him with a handkerchief and then rush
past," suggested Ray.
"Don't let's fool here all the morning," growled Jack, reminded
by unmistakable feelings that the party was to lunch in a village still
some miles distant.
Dick was puzzled for an instant as to how he should proceed. He
did not like to be rude to ladies, and at the same time felt very dis-
inclined to do as the young embassadress proposed. The country at
this point was flat and open, with no clumps of trees or bushes
behind which the objectionable "v'locipedes" might be concealed.
The situation was annoying. There was Miss Clara in the phaeton,
waiting patiently for the retreat, and here was her little sister, look-
ing up at tall Dick in the most confiding manner, while grouped
around, in various attitudes of amusement and disgust, were the
noble members of the club.
Suddenly, a happy idea occurred to the captain.
"No, we should n't care to go back so far," he said, "as we 've
already ordered lunch to be prepared for usby a certain time; but I '1
tell you what we can do. You and your sister walk past us, and I '1.
lead the horse, or the five of us will, if you think one is n't enough."'
"I 'll run and ask Clara," replied she, and flew back to the phaeton.
She had a hurried conversation with her sister, and then rushed
out into the middle of the road and beckoned frantically. Dick
gave his machine to Ray, and hastened to present himself before
Miss Clara, who proved to be a rather overdressed young lady of
some eighteen years. She had already got out of the carriage when
he reached it, and, without further ado, Dick grasped the bridle of
the nervous Peter, and started off at a slow pace, the sisters following.
Nearer and nearer to the "v'locipedes" they approached, and still
the troublesome steed's ears were not pricked up, nor had his sensi-
tive nose scented bicycles in the air.
According to their captain's instructions, the "B. B's" remained
as quiet as mice, striving to conceal their machines as much as possi-
ble with their bodies.
And now Dick and the horse were directly in front of them, and
still no sign from Peter that he was meditating anything more seri-
ous than what quality of oats he would be likely to get at "Aunt
Then the boys began to smile, and, as the little girl and her big
sister hurried past, the smile had increased to a broad grin. and when
the five sat down to their lunch fifteen minutes behind time, they
were all much merrier, not to say hungrier, by reason of the delay.
"Why in the world did n't some of us think of turning down a
cross-road or a lane? wondered Jack aloud, as he helped himself
to a third sweet potato.
And nobody could tell why they had n't.
The run home was brisk and uneventful, and Captain Dick kept a
sharp lookout for the nervous Peter, the energetic little girl, her fine
sister and the phaeton.
But they never met again.




DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: So much pleasure and instruction have been
derived from the article, "A Knotty Subject," in the February ST.
NICHOLAS, that I am sure a great many subscribers would be glad
if you would induce Mr. Norton to give some information about
splices.-Respectfully yours, HARRY ROBINSON.
SPLICES ? Certainly, Master Harry Robinson. Take two ends
of three-stranded rope or large cord. Unlay-separate, that is-the
strands of each, far enough to handle them easily, and "crotch" the
two sets of strands together so that each strand of each set will be
between two strands of the other set.
For convenience, we will call the set belonging to the right-hand
rope's end "No. i," and that belonging to the left-hand rope's end,
"No. 2." Crowd the crotches pretty closely together, and lay the
strands of No. I flat along the solid line of No. 2. Better tie them
there with a bit of twine, to begin with. Now take a strand of No.
2 and pass it over that strand of No. i which touches it on the side
farthest from you, and under the one next beyond. Pull it through
as far as it will go. Now turn the whole splice over toward you, and
take the next strand of No. 2. Pass it in turn over thestrand of No.
I which lies next it and under the one beyond. Turn the whole
over toward you again, and do as before with the third and only
remaining strand of No. 2. When you have in this way passed each
strand of each set under two strands of the opposite set, you may stop.
If you have made no mistakes, the end of each strand will come out
by itself between two strands of the opposite line. Of course, before
beginning to work with No. I you will remove the piece of twine with
which it was fastened.
The loose ends may now be cut off, or untwisted and tucked in
between the solid strands near them. Roll the splice between your
hands, or under your foot, to get everything in place. The spliced
part ought to look as if it were evenly braided, but you will hardly
make it look so the first time. A spliced line is about one-eighth
weaker than a whole one. A sharp instrument like an awl will help
to raise the solid strands so that the loose ones can be passed under
them. I have thus described a "short splice," and would tell you
about a "long" one, but ST. NICHOLAs says my letter is long
enough already, so I must cut it short. C. L. NORTON.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been presented with the July num-
ber of ST. NICHOLAS, and, to my surprise and delight, the frontis-
piece is a picture of my great-grandmother, Elizabeth Zane. I have
heard the story often from my father, of how she carried the powder.
I am fourteen years old. Just opposite Wheeling, where the old fort
stood, is Martin's Ferry, where I was born and lived until six years
of age; and it is the place where Betty Zane lived, died, and was
buried.-Yours, very respectfully, JESSIE B. MARTIN.

THE story of "How Tom Cole carried out his Plan," printed in
the present number, is founded on an incident in the life of the late
William Morris Hunt, the artist. The author of our story says:
"The anecdote, which went the rounds of Boston art-circles, ran
thus: Hunt was one day out sleighing in a severe snow-storm, when,
seeing a forlorn organ-grinder turning out his tunes for the benefit of
a row of empty windows, he jumped from his sleigh, took the man's
coat and hat, put them on himself, and rang the bell of the nearest
house. The door opened, and the disguised artist asked for the mas-
ter, who happened to be a friend of his. The master came to the
door, and to him Hunt described himself as a beggar in need of help.
How much money the artist received I do not know, but, whatever it
was, he gave it to the organ-grinder, and went his way. This was
told to me by an artist friend, a pupil of Mr. Hunt.-Yours,

C. F. A.-The present Khedive of Egypt is named Mehemed-
Tewfik; he is the son of Ex-Khedive Ismail, who abdicated August
8, 1879. Mehemed-Tewfik was born in 1852.

A CORRESPONDENT, in mentioning a sentence in ST. NICHOLAS
for June, very properly finds fault-with the expression "a ruddy lurid
light." If any of our young readers fail to detect the poor editing
that suffered such a combination of adjectives to be put in type, they
may consult both Worcester and Webster as to the meaning of the
two opposed adjectives.

COMMODORE WHITING sends the following interesting communi-
cation to ST. NICHOLAS:
The following lines were written I -- litle -1: 1 t(n)w dead), aged
about ten years, and her younger I .ri.., .:.: :;...-; the first verse
being written by one, and the second by the other. W. B. W.
/ I saw a bubble, bright and fair,
Blown by a child at play;
'T was but a bubble, light as air,
Like a bubble it passed away.
It was a thing too frail to last
When touch'd by the wint'ry wind,
'T was bright as hope,-like hope it pass'd,
And left but a tear behind.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The article in your July number, entitled
"Paper Balloons," I have read with pleasure. I trust you will let
me suggest one little idea, that, in my experience in "balloon build-
ing," I have found useful in "finishing off." It is this: In cutting
the gores leave a small oblong tab at the upper end of each.
The tabs, when the gores are pasted together, can be drawn up
and tied, rendering the top of the "air-ship" perfectly air-tight.
Without such tabs the tops of the gores are often obstinate about
coming together.-Yours very truly, Y. V. A.

T. C.-You will find an article about "Philately," or "Postage-
stamp collecting," in ST. NICHOLAS fcr November, 875 ; it describes
a good plan for sticking stamps in an album.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have had dry times around my home
this summer. One old neighbor. who owns scarcely anything but a
spring and a small pond, has made heaps of money selling water at
so much a barrel. We had to send twice a day for enough for our
One of our visitors says that the queerest plan of which she knows,
for supplying a place with fresh water, is the method followed in
Venice,-where the very streets are water, but salt water, not fresh.
She says there are large cisterns all about the city, and people draw
the water in big copper kettles at eight o'clock in the morning, for
until that hour the cisterns are kept locked. Then they carry home
their kettles, slung, one at each side, from the ends of wooden yokes
that rest upon the shoulders. The water comes from distant hills
on the main-land, and is carried from the sea-shore to the city in
barges. From these it is pumped by steam machinery into the cis-
terns, which are filled every night.
The water is very good, my friend says; but it seems to me to be
carried around a good deal before it reaches the people who use it.
I thought the other "Letter-Box" readers might like to know about
this.-Yours truly, EDITH C. L.

BROTHER AND SISTER.-A good piece for recitation may be found
on page 873 of the present number, entitled "Captain Butterfly,"
and another capital piece would he The Woodman's Daughter,"
on page 815 of dur August number. You will find very good pieces
scattered throughout the present volume of ST. NICHOLAS; such as:
"That Dropped Stitch," page 8; "A Boy's Remonstrance," page
43; The Little Runaway," page 62; The Knight and the Page"
(sing the Page's song), page 99; and The Four Sunbeams,"
page 117;-of the December number, 1879. "The Three Copecks,"
page 214; and "Sow, Sew and So," page 246;-of the January
number, 1880. "Quite a History" (Dialogue), page 348, February,
1880. "St. George and the Dragon," page 494, April, 1880.
"Elizabeth Eliza's Paper" (to be read), page 709, July, 188o.

INQUIRER.-In answer to your question as to where the flies stay
during the winter, Mr. S. F. Clarke says:
The common house-fly, or Musca domestica, as scientific people
call him, stops his active life when cold weather comes on in the Fall,
and, having found a dark, well-protected spot,-such as a quiet cor-
ner in an old shed, or in the barn, or up in the garret, or perhaps
under some dry leaves in an angle of a fence,-he goes to sleep until
the warmth of the spring wakes him up again. I sometimes wish,
when the flies are keeping me awake in the summer mornings, that




the tormenting little black fellows had never waked up in the spring,
but slept all the year through. However, they are useful in many
ways, as 'Inquirer' may see by reading the article on 'The Frolic-
some Fly' in ST. NICHOLAS for September, 1879."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: About the first of last April, there was
brought me from the hen-house a little chicken, who was the first of
a nest full of eggs, and I was to take care of him. Mamie and I
made a nest of cotton for him in a covered basket and put him to
bed. I petted him so much that he would not let Mamie put him tc
bed for a long time, but cried and chirped till I came. At first, it was
all I could do to keep my cat from eating him; but, as he grew older,
he thought he would give the cat as good as he received from her;
so, whenever he saw the cat going to get something to eat, he would
run and guard the dish, and although he might not want any. poor
kitty had to wait till he went away. Whenever he went near the cat,
she would run away from him. If the chicken saw my brother in the
yard, he would run at him and peck his heels.-Your constant reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In reading the June number I saw a letter
about rabbits in California, by "A. B. F." I once had two rabbits,
when living in Brooklyn, and I can assure you they would never
touch water. I never was so careful as to wipe the moisture off the
cabbage-leaves with which I fed them, though.
My brother had 20o rabbits when at boarding-school,-not all at
once, of course,-and it was he who told me I must gve them no water.
So, you see, other rabbits besides those which live in California must
not have water.-Yours truly, BESSIE.

WALTER F. WOOD's question about feeding a pet alligator is thus
H. B. says,-" If you want to keep your alligator alive, and he
will not eat, throw some dead flies into the water, so that he can
get at them, and leave him alone for six or eight hours. Then, if he
will not eat, take him in one hand and open his mouth, and drop a
fly in (if he is a big fellow drop in three or four), shut his mouth
and put him back."
Bell C. Pennell says,-" I feed my alligator on fish-worms."
May Wickham says,-" You must not have any of the water
deeper than half the way up the alligator's back, and it must not
cover his back or he will drown. He eats from June to September,
and then from September to June he does not eat at all. When he
eats, you must give him a very small piece of raw meat, about half an
inch long, and feed it to him on a stick, so that he will not bite you.
One thing you must not do. and that i. 1.,.. l.. 1-... or he may have
a fit and die. I hope your alligator .i i,..- ,. ..very old, and I
will tell you one more thing, and that is, that they grow about an inch
every three years."

BERTHOLD W. MANVILLE.-Please read again what "Jack-in-the-
Pulpit" said about "Cows' Upper Teeth" in ST. NICHOLAS for
October, 1875, and you will see how to answer your own question.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAs: I read to my sister, who is a school-ma'am.
M. A. G. C.'s letter in the May "Letter-Box" about when the
decade of the eighteen hundred and seventies ends and when the next
decade begins. Next day, sister showed me in her educational
magazine this little piece, copied from Sir John Herschel's Outlines
of Astronomy ": In the historical dating of events, there is no year
A. D. o. The year immediately previous to A. D. I is always called
B. C. r."
So, please tell M. A. G. C. that she is right; the decade of the
eighteen hundred and eighties does not begin until next New Year's
day.-Yours truly, B. E. M.
A GOOD friend of ST. NICHOLAS has forwarded for the "Letter-
Box" several interesting letters written by children of the Omaha
tribe of Indians. We cannot make room for the whole of every one
of the letters, but the parts we print are just what the little Indians
themselves wrote.
The writer of the first letter, Susette La Flesche, is better known
to many of our readers by her Indian name, Bright Eyes."
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I do not know whether you allow "sav-
ages in your "Letter-Box," but my two younger sisters seeming
to have no doubt whatever on the subject, Rosalie and I have con-
cluded not to let them get ahead of us; besides, nothing is ever com-
plete unless "we four" are all "in it." As my little brother Mitchell
(who, by the way, considers himself the most important member of
the family) is unable to write for himself, I will attempt to do it for
him. He is six years old,-so old that he constitutes himself our
protector on all occasions.
He tries to re-assure mother by telling her that he will keep all the

Sioux and Winnebagoes away from us. He can speak only a few
sentences in English, although he chatters fast enough in Omaha,
our own language. He admires the white people immensely. He
said to me once:
Sister, don't you like the white people? I do."
I don't know," said I; why should I ? "
Oh, because they know how to do everything."
He is rather afraid of them, though, when he sees a good many of
them together. The members of the "Joint Indian Commission"
were out here a short time ago .-. '1.- different tribes, and they
called on us for a few minutes. .' .. .- were all busy entertaining
and being entertained by them, we forgot Mitchell entirely. A gen-
tleman-one of the employes of the Indian Reserve-came to the
kitchen where Mitchell was and asked him if the Major (the agent
of a Reserve is often called "Major" by Reserve people) was in the
front room.
"No," said Mitchell.
Then please go and tell the Major that I want to see him," said
the gentleman.
"Oh, no," said Mitchell, I can't."
"Why not?"
"Oh! I can't; there are too many white men in there for me."
When our visitors had gone away, we found Mitchell standing by
the dining-room window, with the tears rolling down his face, while
he shook from head to foot with fright. I never knew him to be
afraid of anything except white men, when he saw a good many of
them together.
When he was three years old, he began riding horseback. When
he was four years old, he rode alone to a neighbor's, nearly a mile
off, although the road led over steep bluffs near the Missouri River.
Now, he can get off and on a horse without any help whatever. We
often see little Indian boys younger than he riding out alone on the
prairie, hunting horses with perhaps an older brother. Mitchell can
go in among a number of horses standing close together, and bring
out any one of them without making any confusion or getting hurt.

DEAR'ST. NICHOLAS: I am an Indian girl fifteen years old. I
have three sisters and two brothers. Two of my sisters are older than
I'am. We four girls are keeping house by ourselves at the Omaha
Agency. It is three miles from our own home, where our father and
mother live. We areliving on a Reserve, where nothing but Indians,
called Omahas, live, except the employes of the Reserve.
Sometimes I am sorry that the white people ever came to America.
What nice times we used to have before we were old enough to go
to school, for then father used to take us on the buffalo hunt. How
glad we used to be when the men were bringing in the buffaloes they
had killed! I do wish we could go again. Whatever the white men
take away from us, they cannot take away the love of roaming. I
cannot write anything exciting, as nothing hardly ever happens,
unless a number of Senators and Congressmen happen to come along
and stir us up. All of us girls, and brother Frank, are very fond of
reading and like you very much -Your reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little Indian girl twelve years old. I
go to school at the Omaha Agency. I study geography, history,
grammar, arithmetic and spelling. I read in the Fifth Reader. I
have three older sisters and two brothers. Sometimes father, mother
and grandmother come to see us. My father was a chief for fifteen
years. My brother Frank once killed a deer, right by our house.
Some Senators and Congressmen came to see the Omahas. They
all came to our house and sang "Hold the Fort" with us. My
oldest sister played backgammon with one of the Congressmen and
beat him.-Yours truly, SUSAN LA FLESCHE.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am one of four Indian girls who read you
and like you very much. We live at the Agency, where we go to
school with about sixty other Indian girls and boys. Perhaps you
would like to know how we go on the hunt. Sometimes the whole
tribe go, leaving at home the folks who are too old to go. When we
were too young to go to school, father used to take us every time
they went; but when we got old enough, we used to stay at the
Omaha Mission, a boarding-school kept for the Indian children.
One year they were going out on the buffalo hunt, and, as we were
not going to school that year, father took us girls. We were so glad
to go, as we had not gone for a long time. Sometimes they would
travel almost all day, and I used to be so glad when they all stopped
to camp, for 1 would get tired of riding. In a few minutes all the
tents would be up, and the women would be getting dinner, while
the men were out hunting. As soon as we girls were offour horses,
we used to run down to the creek, or out into the woods, and get
poles to make ourselves little tents. When the men came home with
a lot of meat everybody was glad. As soon as the men got home
they used to roast the buffalo ribs, while the women were getting the
meat ready to dry. Mother used to let me have all the little pieces
of meat to dry for my old grandmother, who had to stay at home.
As soon as they had all the meat and skins they wanted, they would
start for home.-Yours truly, ROSALIE LA FLESCHE.



e88o.] THE RIDDLE-BOX. 919


To SOLVE each of the following puzzles, take the last letter of the
first word described, place it at the beginning of the rest of the word,
and the letters in their new places will spell the second word
described. For example: Change COLORS to LIMIT. Answer:
Tints, stint.
i. Change languishes to part of the body. 2. Change havens to
pleasure. 3. Change notes to a hard substance. 4. Change heaps
to a pin for a cask. 5. Change troubles to a fright. 6. Change
parks to little. 7. Change weeds to a fixed look.


THE above puzzle consists of a six-line quotation from Shakspeare.
Each syllable occupies a square, and follows in succession according
to the Knight's move on the chess-board.

For Young Puzzlers.
TAKE away the first and the last letter of the word described in *he
first line of each couplet, and it will leave the word de,-" in its
second line.
I. We light up your faces as bright as the sun.
A measure of distance you scarcely could run.
II. A sweet little blossom you oft pull apart.
The most precious thing you can keep in your heart.
III. Bright flowers, in whose fragrance you well may delight.
Look for me on your fingers when letters you write.
IV. A light, graceful trimming,-you often have worn it.
A bright little burden,-your finger has borne it.
V. I form a part of every book you read.
A funny animal I am, indeed.
VI. A little fruit, I 'm sweet and juicy, too.
Something I hope you will not often do, B.

VACATION was over. The (I) 1s, 33, 15, 30, 65 struck (a) 68, 21,
47, 32 on the first morning of the Fall term, and the (3) 17, 66, 9o,
71 had ceased (4) 46, 39, 35, io, 6, 61, 62.
"It is (5) 29, 8, 44, 58," said the school-ma'am, that we should
return to our books and lessons after our long holiday." Then she
gave the very (6) 82, 88, 72, 49, 43 pupils some easy examples to do,
and they soon were busy with (7) II, 63, 28, 22, 54, 85 and (8) 59, 3,
40, 55, 78, 76, 67.
The way (9) 41, 79 (Io) 74, 38, 25, 86, 23 she imparted knowledge,

made study so easy and pleasant to all the (11) 27, 53, 87, 45, r6, 34,
56, 26 that time passed quickly, and twelve o'clock struck before any
were well aware of it.
It is now (12) 9, 14, x8, 42," said the teacher; "and, asyou had
no lessons prepared for to-day, we will take a (13) a, 69, 77, 51 (14)
, 84, 8r, 60, 36, 52, 19."
Thereupon, most of the scholars flew (5) 48, 7, 83, 89 the open
air, as if on (.6) 4, 64, 73, 80o, 37. After a chat with two or three of
the girls, the teacher turned to get her hat from a (x7) 24, 70, 50, 31
peg, and found that some audacious youngster had written in large
(18) 2o, 13, 75, 57 letters upon the blackboard, this quotation from
"1-2-3 4-5-6-7-8-9-o10 IT-2-a3-14-x5-16-17-18-19
20-21-22-23 24-25-26 27-28-29-30-31-32-33
34-35-36 37-38-39-40-4x-42-43 44--4546-47-48-49-50
5x-52-53-54 55-56-57-58-59-60-6i-62, 63-64-65-66
72-73-74-75-76-77-78-79-80-81-82 83-84 85-86-87-88-89-90"

I AM composed of thirteen letters, and am the name of a household
help. My 4, 9, 2, is very cold. My i, o0, 4, 5, Ir, 12, 6, is bright.
My 7, 2, 5, 8, 9, 13, is a threat. My 3, 8, i, 10, Ir, 5, 6, is a weekly
tribulation. CLARA J. FRY.

EACH of the following stanzas is to be completed by adding, at the
end of the fourth line, the name of the bird described in the preced-
ing three lines. The stars show the number of letters in the name,
which must rhyme with the second line.
z. Now soaring high, while gazing at the sun,
Now perched upon some cliff, with aspect regal,
Far, far above the range of hunter's gun.
What bird is that? The *****
2. A Bible tale oft runneth in my head,-
For on my memory 't is deep engraven.
'T is of a prophet who by birds was fed.
What bird is that? The ****.

3. Wise birds are they who "to the moon complain"
Of wolves and foxes which by night do prowl,
Yet rats and mice flee from this bird in vain.
What bird is this? The ***

4. Black vest, white coat, and collar buff or yellow!
What bird is this, dear children, can you think?
His song is cheery, bright and gay, but mellow.
This is the *******
5. What bird so loved, we could not do without him?
To build his nest, he seizes cord or bobbin.
."' whistling notes he fills the air about him.
,, You can't mistake the *****

PRIMALS: Majdstic. Finals: A pleasant pe iou Cross-words:
i. A famous Greek. 2. The name given in its native .i-' P,-"il,
to the two-toed sloth. 3. A garden flower: 4. A town of Wurthni-
berg. 5. A river of Prussia. 6. A river of Italy.

IN each of the following sentences, fill the first and second blanks
with the word to be inserted in the third blank, but so divided as to
make two separate words,-the whole to make sense. For example:
With the gave me I a picture. Answer: Paint
Ed, Painted.
I. The mischievous young over our grounds, and
spoiled them.
2. He minutes in which to reach the school; and if he
does not he will be late.
3. Unpracticed writers should of the-- verbiage, too
often found in their stories.
4. The father performed was to balance a on his
5. When I saw you hold that tin the saucepan, I began
to that you wished to prevent the steam from escaping.
6. Nelly saw her sister on the grass as she was
out for a walk one Saturday afternoon. FRED SINGLETON.

on heavy per o seek te is to

a ex the ous nish let to beau

en fume of cess vi the smooth waste

lous throw the gar eye light gild ice-

rain to cu gold to the ful per

to to li o with ed or re

the bow hue di to an ta and

un ly paint or their ri fin add




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