Front Cover
 Front Matter
 The crew of the captain's gig
 Golden-hair: A Russian folk-st...
 Thirteen and Dolly
 The Swiss glaciers
 A nonsense rhyme - The magician's...
 The Agassiz association
 The outcast
 Kitty's shopping: A true story
 Bugaboo Bill, the giant
 Mystery in a mansion
 The crow-child
 Tinsel without, but metal...
 Fine, or superfine?
 Some curious nests
 Our little school-girl
 The great secret
 The sad story of the Chilly...
 Sewing-machine designs
 How Rob counted the stars - A bed...
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover


Saint Nicholas: Vol. 8, no. 1
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00094
 Material Information
Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 8, no. 1
Series Title: St. Nicholas.
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: 1880 November
Subjects / Keywords: Children's literature -- Periodicals.
Literature for Children
Genre: serial   ( sobekcm )
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: notis - ocm0176
oclc - 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
oclc - (DLC) 2006255186; 55136171
System ID: UF00065513:00094

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    The crew of the captain's gig
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
    Golden-hair: A Russian folk-story
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
    Thirteen and Dolly
        Page 13
    The Swiss glaciers
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
    A nonsense rhyme - The magician's daughter
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
    The Agassiz association
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
    The outcast
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
    Kitty's shopping: A true story
        Page 36
        Page 37
    Bugaboo Bill, the giant
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
    Mystery in a mansion
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
    The crow-child
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
    Tinsel without, but metal within
        Page 52
    Fine, or superfine?
        Page 53
        Page 54
    Some curious nests
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
    Our little school-girl
        Page 59
    The great secret
        Page 60
        Page 61
    The sad story of the Chilly family
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
    Sewing-machine designs
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
    How Rob counted the stars - A bed in the snow
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
    The letter-box
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
    The riddle-box
        Page 79
        Page 80
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text









[Copyright, i880, by Scribner & Co.]



THEY kept the light-house on Great Porpoise
Island-Aunt Dorcas (nobody ever called her any-
thing but Darkis), Saul and Semanthy, Nick and
Little Job, and the Baby.
Job Jordan (Aunt Dorcas's brother and the chil-
dren's father) was the light-house keeper, but
Job was, in the language of the Porpoise Islanders,
.a talentede" man, and "dretful literary." His
chief talent seemed to be for smoking and read-
ing vividly illustrated story papers, and he de-
voted himself so completely to developing that
talent that all the prosaic duties of the establish-
ment fell upon Aunt Dorcas and the children.
"The light-house would 'a' ben took away from
him long ago, if it had n't 'a' ben for Darkis," the
neighbors said.
Aunt Dorcas did seem to have the strength of
ten. 'She and the children raised a large flock of
sheep on the rocky pastures around the light-house,
and, rising up early and lying down late, tilled a
plot of the dry ground until it actually brought forth
vegetables enough to supply the family; and they
cleaned and filled and polished and trimmed the
great lamp, with its curious and beautiful glass
rings, which reflected the calm and steady light
from so many angles that myriads of flashes went
dancing out over the dark waters and dangerous
rocks. Through summer and winter, storm and
calm, the light on Great Porpoise Island never was
known to fail.
And they kept everything in the tower, and in
the dwelling-house, as bright and shining as a new
pin. So when the commissioners came to examine
the light-house, their report was that Job Jordan
was a most faithful and efficient man."
What the family would have done if Job had lost

the position, I don't know; though I think that
Aunt Dorcas would have managed to keep their
heads above water in some way. They all looked
upon her as a sort of special providence; if good'
fortune did not come to them in the natural course
of things, Aunt Dorcas would contrive to bring it.
She was very nice to look at, with smooth,
shining brown hair, and pretty, soft gray eyes.
She had been a beauty once-in the days when she
had turned her back upon the brightness that life
promised her, and shouldered the responsibilities of
Job's family; but she was past thirty-five now, and
years of toil and care will leave their traces. She
still had a springy step, and laughed easily-and
these are two very good things where work and care
abound. It was when Mrs. Jordan died that she
had come to live with them, and when the baby
was only a year old.
That was four years ago, now, and the baby was
still called the Baby. The reason for this was that
his name was Reginald Fitz-Eustace Montmorenci.
His father named him-after a hero in one of his
story papers. Aunt Dorcas scorned the name-she
liked old-fashioned Bible names-and the children
could n't pronounce it, so it had fallen into disuse.
He was tow-headed and sturdy-Reginald Fitz-
Eustace Montmorenci-with a fabulous appetite,
and totally unable to keep the peace with Little Job.
Little Job, who camenext,-going up the ladder,
-found life a battle. His namesake of old was not
more afflicted. He had sore eyes, and his hair was
"tously," and he hated to have it combed. He
was always getting spilled out of boats, and off
docks, and tumbling down steep rocks and stairs.
When the tips of his fingers were not all badly
scratched, his arm was broken or his ankle sprained.


His clothes were always in tatters, and Aunt Dorcas
sometimes made him go to bed while she mended
them, and that always happened to be just when
the others were going fishing. The cow swallowed
the only jack-knife he ever had, and when he
saved up all his pennies for a year, and had bought
a cannon, it would n't go off. And he always was
found out. The others might commit mischief,
and go scot-free, but Little Job always was found
And this sort of existence he had supported for
nine years.
Nick was but little more than a year older than
Little Job, and no larger, but he took life more
easily. He was brave, and jolly, and happy-go-
lucky; so full of mischief that the neighbors had
christened him "Old Nick." Aunt Dorcas thought
that he did n't deserve that, as there was never any-
thing malicious about his mischief, but little did
Nick care what they called him. He had little,
bright, beady cross-eyes, which seemed to be always
eagerly looking at the tip of his nose. And as the
tip of his nose turned straight up to meet them, the
interest appeared to be mutual.
His shock of red hair would stand upright, too,
let Aunt Dorcas and Semanthy do what they would
to make it stay down. And his ears-which were
the largest ears ever seen on a small boy-would not
stay down, either, but stood out on each side of his
head, so that Cap'n 'Siah Hadlock .(who was Aunt
Dorcas's beau once, and still dropped in to see her
occasionally, in the light of a friend) declared that
Nick always reminded him of a vessel going wing-
and-wing. Cap'n 'Siah and Nick were very good
friends, notwithstanding, and now that Cap'n 'Siah
had given up following the sea, and kept a flourish-
ing store on "the main," there was no greater
delight to Nick than to stand behind his counter,
and sell goods; it might have been rather tame
without the occasional diversion of a somersault
over the counter, or a little set-to with a boy some-
what bigger than himself, but these entertainments
were always forthcoming, and the store was Nick's
earthly paradise.
Saul and Semanthy were twins. They were
twelve, and felt all the dignity and responsibility of
their position as the elders of the family. Semanthy
was tow-headed and freckled, and toed-in. Saul was
tow-headed and freckled, too, but he was (as Cap'n
'Siah expressed it) "a square trotter." Their tow
heads and their freckles were almost the only points
of resemblance between them, although they were
twins. Saul had an old head and keen wits. He
was very fond of mathematics, and had even been
known to puzzle the school-master by a knotty
problem of his own making. Semanthy could
do addition, if you gave her time. Saul kept his

eyes continually open to all the practical details of
life, and was already given to reading scientific
books. Semanthy was a little absent-minded and
dreamy, and as fond of stories as her father. ,Saul
always observed the wind and the clouds, and
knew when it was going to rain as well as Old
Probabilities himself. And if he had been suddenly
transported to an unknown country, blindfolded, he
could have told you which way was north by a kind
of instinct. And he heaped scorn upon Semanthy
because she was n't a walking compass, too,-pooi
Semanthy, who never knew which way was east ex-
cept when she saw the sun rise, and then could never
quite remember, when she stood, with her right hand
toward it, according to the geographical rule,
whether the north was in front of her or behind her!
Saul was a wonderful sailor, too, and had all the
proper nautical terms at his tongue's end, as well
as numberless wise maxims about the manage-
ment of boats; if he had sailed as long as the An-
cient Mariner he could n't have been more learned
in sea lore. But Semanthy did n't even know
what the gaff-topsail" was, and had no more idea
what "port your helm" and "hard-a-lee meant
than if it had been Sanscrit. When she was sailing,
she liked to watch the sky, and fancy wonderful re-
gions hidden by the curtain of blue ether, or build
castles in the clouds which the sunset bathed in
wonderful colors; she liked that much better than
learning all the stupid names that they called
things on a boat, or how to sail one. She was per-
fectly willing that Saul should do that for her. And
Saul cherished a profound contempt for girls, as
the lowest order of creation, and for Semanthy, in
particular, as an especially inferior specimen of the
sex. Semanthy had a deep admiration and affec-
tion for Saul, but still, sometimes, when he assumed
very superior airs, and said very cutting things about
her ignorance, she did feel, in her heart, that boys
were rather a mistake.
It was about five o'clock on a sultry Saturday
afternoon, in August. Aunt Dorcas was putting
her last batch of huckleberry pies into the Oven,
and thanking her stars that they had not been
troubled by any "city folks" that day; for Had-
lock's Point, the nearest land on "the main," had
become a popular summer resort, and troops of
visitors were continually coming over to Great
Porpoise Island, to explore the rocks and the light-
house. Nick was endeavoring to promote hostili-
ties between a huge live lobster, which he had just
brought in, and which was promenading over the
floor, and a much-surprised kitten. Little Job was
in the throes of hair-combing, under the hands of
Semanthy, and howling piteously. Suddenly they
all looked up, and Little Job was surprised into
ceasing his howls. A deep bass voice, just outside




the door, was singing, or rather roaring, this sin-
gular ditty:
For I am a cook, and a captain bold,
And the mate of the Nancy brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig."

This was The Yarn of the Nancy Bell," which
Cap'n 'Siah Hadlock had learned from some
of the summer visitors, and was never tired of
singing. He had taught it to the children, too,
and the experience of the elderly naval man,"
who had cooked and eaten all the personages

Gittin' ready, Darkis ? "
For the day of judgment ? Yes, an' I hope you
be, too," said Aunt Dorcas, trying to force a
pucker upon a face that was never made for puck-
ering. But something brought a color to her cheeks
just then-perhaps the heat of the oven, as she
opened the door to look after her pies.
Semanthy wondered if Cap'n 'Siah never would
get tired of saying that to Aunt Dorcas, and she
never would get tired of blushing at it-such old
people, too !
Well, I kinder calkerlate that the day o' jedg-


named in the rhyme, had fired Nick's soul with a
desire to boil Little Job in the dinner-pot, and Little
Job accordingly dwelt in terror of his life. Cap'n
'Siah was just what his voice proclaimed him-a
big and jolly-looking man of forty or thereabouts,
with a twinkle in his eye, and a double chin with a
deep dimple in it. But what made his appearance
particularly fascinating to the children was the fact
that he wore ear-rings-little round hoops of gold
-and had grotesque figures tattooed all over his
hands, in India-ink.
All four of the children knew what he was going
to say, for he always said the same thing, whether
he came often or seldom.

ment '11 get along 'thout my attending' to it, but if
ever I 'm agoin' to git a good wife, I 've got to go
arter her said Cap'n 'Siah.
"Then p'r'aps you'd better be agoin'," said
Aunt Dorcas. Whereupon Cap'n 'Siah sat down.
I come over in the captain's gig," he said,
addressing himself to the children.
They all looked bewildered, not knowing that
"captains' gigs" had an existence outside of "The
Yarn of the Nancy Bell."
"There 's a revenue cutter a-layin' up in the
harbor; she come in last night. The cap'n he
come off in his gig, and went off ridin' with some
of the folks up to the hotel. He wanted some



good fresh butter, an' I told him I 'd come over
here an' see if I could n't git some o' the Widder
Robbins, an' he said his men might row me over
in the gig. So there the boat lays, down there at
the shore, an' the men have gone over to the cliffs
after ducks' eggs. I told 'em they need n't be in
no hurry, seeing' as I was n't."
The children were all out of the house in a trice,
to see what kind of a boat a "captain's gig" was.
They were somewhat disappointed to find only
a long, narrow row-boat; it had outriggers, and
was painted black; except for those peculiarities,
they might have taken it for a boat belonging to
some of the summer visitors at Hadlock's Point.
They all had a fancy that a captain's gig must
bear some resemblance to a carriage.
Cap'n 'Siah must have been fooling us; it's
nothing but a row-boat," said Nick.
Saul had been there before them, inspecting the
boat, and spoke up: That 's what they call it-
the sailors said so;, it's a good boat, anyway, and
I 'd like to take a row in it."
"Come on! shouted Nick, jumping into the
boat. It 's a good mile over to the cliffs where
the ducks' eggs are; the men wont be back this
two hours."
"Do come, Saul," urged Semanthy, and Little
Job joined his voice to the general chorus.
I suppose they would let us take it if they were
here, but I don't just like to take it without leave,"
said Saul, doubtfully.
"Stay at home, then. We're going, anyhow.
Semanthy can row like a trooper," cried Nick.

Semanthy could row a boat if she could n't sail
one, and she was proud of her accomplishment,
especially as Saul always chose her as an assistant
in preference to any of the boys.

If you are all going, I suppose I shall have to
go to take care of you," said Saul, jumping in.
"But we must n't go so far that we can't see the
sailors when they come back for their boat."
So they all went off in the "captain's gig"-Saul
and Semanthy, Nick and Little Job, and the Baby.
But as soon as they were off, conscientious Saul
pushed back again, and sent Little Job up to the
house to ask Cap'n 'Siah if it would do for them to
use the "captain's gig" for a little while. And
Cap'n 'Siah said that the sailors would n't be back
before dark, and he would "make it all right"
with them. Whether Cap'n 'Siah was anxious to
get rid of the children, that he might have a better
opportunity to urge Aunt Dorcas to git ready," I
cannot say, but he was certainly very willing that
they should go.
Saul's mind was now at ease, and he was quite
ready to enjoy himself; but I am afraid that Nick
felt, in the bottom of his mischievous heart, that
there was quite as much fun about it before they
had anybody's permission.
"Now we can go over to the Point!" said
That was Semanthy's great delight, to go over
to the Point and see the crowds of summer visitors,
in their gay, picturesque dresses, the steamers
coming in, and the flags flying. Now and then
there was a band playing; and at such times Se-
manthy's cup of happiness ran over.
Saul did not make any objection. He liked to
go over to the Point, too. Not that he cared
much for crowds of people, or flags, or bands, but
there was a queer, dou-
ble-keeled boat, which
they called a catamaran,
over there, and he wanted
to investigate it. The
S m -Point was nearly three
miles away, but they
Pulled hard, Saul and
Semanthy, Nick and Lit-
tie Job, each taking an
-- oar. To be sure, they
Shad to keep an eye on
Little Job, for he had an
Unpleasant way of drop-
ping his oar into the wa-
ter-if he did n't drop
himself in-and of keep-
ing the Baby in a drench-
ed condition, which
aroused all the pugnacity
of his infant nature. But in spite of all draw-
backs, they reached the Point in a very short
space of time. And Semanthy saw a steam-boat
just coming in, and it had a band on board,




playing "Pinafore" selections, and some Indians
had come and pitched their tents on the shore,
and hung out silvery seal-skins and beautiful, gay
baskets at their tent-doors, and the little Indian
children, running about, were queerer than any-
thing out of a fairy book. And Nick had an
opportunity to invest a long-cherished five-cent
piece in "jaw-breakers"--a kind of candy whose
merit seemed to consist in "lasting long." Lit-
tle Job had time to be knocked off the wharf by
a huge Newfoundland dog, and rescued dripping.
Saul found the catamaran fastened to the slip,
where he could inspect it to his heart's content. The
owner was standingby, and noticing Saul's interest,
he told him all about the boat, and ended by asking
him to go sailing with him.
"Go, of course, Saul! You don't suppose we
can't get home without you ?" said Semanthy.
Of course you can, but you had better go right
along. You have no more than time to get home
before dark," called prudent Saul, as he stepped
into the catamaran with his friend.
0 my! Don't we feel big! called out Nick, in
a voice which was distinctly audible in the catama-
ran. You 'd think we were the cap'n of the boat!
I would n't feel big in that queer old machine-
't aint any kind of a boat, anyhow! "
And Little Job piped up, in a high, shrill voice:

"0 I am a cook, and a captain bold,
And the mate of the Nancy brig,
And a bos'n tight, and a midshiprnite,
And the crew of the captain's gig! "

It was clearly a relief to get rid of Saul; he was
so very prudent and cautious, and kept them in
such good order. "The crew of the captain's gig"
meant to have a good time now !
Semanthy tried her best to make Nick pull with
a will, straight for home, for it was already past six
o'clock, and she had a vivid picture in her mind of
the sailors all on the shore waiting for their boat,
and furiously angry with those who had stolen it.
But Nick and Little Job had become hilarious,
and preferred "catching crabs "'and sousingg"
Semanthy and the Baby, and rocking the boat
from side to side to see howfar it would tip without
tipping over, to going peaceably along..
And all Semanthy's remonstrances were in vain,
until, suddenly, she espied a black cloud swiftly
climbing the sky.
"Look there, boys!" she cried. There 's a
squall coming! Now I guess you '11 hurry! "
And they did. Nick and Little Job were not
without sense, and they had not lived on that dan-
gerous, rocky coast, where sudden "flaws" came
down from the mountains, and squalls came up
with scarcely a moment's warning, in the calmest,

sunniest days, for nothing. Even the Baby under-
stood the situation perfectly.
But there was little danger in a row-boat, unless


it should grow so dark before they got home that
they could not see their way, or the waves should
run so high as to swamp their boat-and the cap-
tain's gig" was not a boat to be easily swamped.
Semanthy wished they were at home,- but her chief
anxiety was for Saul, out in a sail-boat,-and such
a queer, new-fangled one, too !
"Pooh! Saul knows how. to manage any sail-
boat that ever was!" said Nick, scornfully, when
Semanthy expressed her fears.
"And if he did n't, those fellers know how to
manage their own craft," said Little Job.
The black cloud spread so quickly over the sky
that it seemed as if a pall had been suddenly
cast upon the light of day. The water was without
a ripple, and there was a strange hush in the air.
It was a relief to Semanthy when a flock of gulls
flew screaming over their heads-the stillness was
so oppressive.
Then the wind swooped down suddenly and




fiercely upon them. On the land they could see
the dust of the road torn up in a dense cloud, and
the trees bent and writhing. The smooth water
was broken into great, white-capped waves.
Semanthy and Nick tugged away bravely at the
oars, but it was very hard work, and they made but
little progress. The darkness was increasing with
every moment; every ray of the setting sun had
been obscured, and the sky over their heads was
black. In a very few minutes they were in the
midst of a thick darkness.
"Look out! You just missed that buoy!" called

If night were not coming on, I should hope
that it would grow lighter soon," said Semanthy;
"but, as it is, I wonder why Aunt Darkis does n't
light the lamp ?"
But, though they strained their eyes to the
utmost, peering anxiously into the darkness, there
was no welcome flash from the Great Porpoise
light-house. They rested on their oars, while the
boat stood, now on its head and now on its feet, as
the Baby said, until Nick's stock of patience was
I move that we pull ahead," he said. I know


out Little Job. And in another moment he
"I don't believe this is the way at all! I think
you 're goin' straight for Peaked Nose Island! "
Well, I aint got eyes in the back o' my head,
like Saul! No other fellow could tell which way to
go in this darkness. Anyway, I can't tell Little
Porpoise from Peaked Nose. We might just as
well drift."
"'Drift! I should think it was drifting, with the
boat most turning a somersault every minute.
Most likely we shall all be drowned," said Little
Job, with the calmness of one accustomed to
"If you say that again, I '11 pitch you over-
board !" said Nick. Of course we aint going
to get drowned It will get lighter by and by, and
then we '11 go home."

this place too well to get a great ways out of my
reckoning, and it 's enough to make a fellow crazy
to be wabbling around here this way. We can't
do any worse than to bump on a rock, and, if it 's
above water, we '11 hold on to it."
Semanthy was prone to sea-sickness, and the
pirouetting of the boat had caused her to begin to
feel that there might be worse things even than
being drowned. So she was only too glad to "pull
They did not "bump" upon any rock, but
neither did they, after what seemed like hours of
rowing, see any signs that they were nearing home.
They were rowing against wind and tide, and could
not expect to make rapid progress; but still it did
seem to Nick that they ought to have got some-
where by this time, unless they had drifted out into
the open sea.




Goin' straight ter Halifax All aboard "
shouted Little Job, whose spirits were fitful.
The wind's violence had abated somewhat, and it
had begun to rain. If Semanthy had only known
that the catamaran and its crew were safe, she
would have felt that their woes were not beyond
remedy. But the gale had come on so suddenly 1
Before they had time to take down their sail, the
boat might have capsized, or been blown upon the
rocks. Even Nick shook his head now and then,
and said: "This squall 's been pretty rough on
sail-boats, I can tell you."
"Nick, where can we be that we don't see our
light ? "
"That must be Great Porpoise just ahead," said
Nick, pointing to a spot in the distance, which
looked only like darkness intensified and gathered
into a small compass. "Why we can't see the
light I am sure I can't tell."
As they drew nearer, the black spot grew larger,
and revealed itself as land beyond a question.
But it can't be Great Porpoise, Nick, because
we should see the light! "
Nick looked long and earnestly, doubt growing
deeper and deeper in his mind.
"Well, it must be Peaked Nose," he said, at
last, "though it is certainly a great deal bigger
than Peaked Nose ever was before."
And so they turned the boat in the direction in
which Great Porpoise ought to lie, if this were
Peaked Nose.
That the light on Great Porpoise might not be
lighted did not occur to any one of them. For that
lamp to remain unlighted after night-fall was a thing
which had never happened since they were born;
it would have been scarcely less extraordinary to
their minds if daylight should fail to put in an
Since there was no light there, that could not be
Great Porpoise Island. That was all. there was
about it,-so they all thought.
They rowed swiftly and in silence for a while,
and another dark shape did appear ahead of them;
but there was no light there !
"Oh, Nick The Pudding Stones I hear the
breakers cried Semanthy, suddenly. "It must
be Little Porpoise "
"Then the other was Great Porpoise! said Nick,
blankly. "What is the matter with the light ?"
The Pudding Stones made Little Porpoise a terror
to mariners. If the beams from Great Porpoise
light-house had not fallen full upon them, they
would probably have been the ruin of many a good
ship. Now, where was the Great Porpoise light?
The other end of Little Porpoise was inhabited;
they had friends there, and went there often, but
Semanthy had never before been so near the Pud-

ding Stones, and she was anxious only to get as far
away from them as possible. They seemed to her
like living monsters, with cruel teeth, eager to crush
and grind helpless victims.
"Why are you going so near, Nick? she cried,
in terror.
I want to make sure where we are. There
are other rocks around besides the Pudding Stones,
and it seems as if we must have got to the other
side of nowhere. If we have n't, where in creation
is that light ?"
This did seem to Semanthy an almost unanswer-
able argument in proof of their having got to the
other side of nowhere." But still she did not feel
any desire to investigate the rocks just ahead, upon
which the breakers were making an almost deafen-
ing uproar. But Nick would not turn away until
he had fully satisfied his mind about their position.
Suddenly, above the roar of the breakers, they
heard a voice,-a shrill, despairing cry for help,-
a woman's voice, and not far away.
"A boat has run against the rocks, most likely,"
said Nick, and pulled straight on toward the break-
ers. "We may be in time to save somebody."
"Oh, but Nick, it is n't as if there were only
you and me to think of! Here are the children.
We are risking their lives said Semanthy.
It was Little Job who piped up then, in his high,
weak little voice, and not by any means in the
terror-stricken wail which might have been expected
from little Job. His courage had evidently mounted
with the occasion.
I guess we 're all the crew of the captain's gig,
and we aint agoin' to let anybody get drowned if
we can help it! he said.
Nick did not reply to either Semanthy or him,
but rowed as if his own life depended upon it.
Semanthy knew that he thought she was a coward,
and was disgusted with her; but she was sure that,
if she and Nick had been alone, she would not have
Little Job's speech and Semanthy's thoughts oc-
cupied but a moment's space. The next moment
the boat grated against a rock, and that cry, weaker
and fainter, arose close beside them.
Jehosaphat! There 's a woman clinging to
this rock Steady, Semanthy-she 's slipping off!
Hold the boat tight to the rock, Little Job Take
hold here, Semanthy; she's heavier than lead !"
Using all their force, they dragged her into the
boat-a limp, drenched form, from which no sound
came. The boat rocked terribly, but righted at
"Semanthy, she's fainted, and she was losing
her hold of the rock! If we had n't grabbed her
just as we did, she'd 'a' been drownedd" said Nick,
in an awed voice.





"I think she 's dead, Nick," said Semanthy, who
had put her face down to the woman's lips, and felt
no breath.
"Rub her hands and feet," said Nick. "We
can't do anything else, but try to get out of this
place, now; or we shall all be ground to bits."
"It is so dark! I can't see to do anything!"
groaned Semanthy. "Oh, where is the light-
house lamp? This all seems like a dreadful night-
mare !"
"I know those were the Pudding Stones, so now
I know the way home," said Nick.
"The lamp has most likely got bewitched," said
Little Job, who was a reader of fairy tales.
But suddenly, like a ray of sunshine falling on the
black waters, out shone the lamp !
It shone full on the white face of the unconscious
and half-drowned woman, resting on Semanthy's
"Aunt Darkis! Oh, Aunt Darkis! they all
cried, in concert.
Oh, Nick, aint we dreaming ?" said Semanthy,
while a flood of tears fell on Aunt Dorcas's face.
"How could she have come there ?"
"Why, it's plain enough. I heard Cap'n 'Siah
ask her to go over to Little Porpoise with him, to
see his sister, the last time he was over. They took
our little sail-boat, and went over, and the squall
struck 'em coming home, and drove 'em on to the
But where is the boat, and where is-oh where
is Cap'n 'Siah ?"
Can't say-p'r'aps all right! said Nick.
Semanthy and Little Job rubbed Aunt Dorcas's
poor white hands, and wrung the water out of her
pretty brown hair, and kissed her over and over
again. And by and by they could detect a faint
fluttering breath coming through her parted lips.
"But oh-oh, Nick, if we had n't been there!"
Semanthy said.
Nick did n't say anything. He had too big a
lump in his throat.
In a few minutes more they were carrying Aunt
Dorcas tenderly and with great difficulty into the
house. The sailors-the original "crew of the
captain's gig "-were all there ; it was one of them
who had lighted the lamp. The children's father,
they were told, was down at the Widow Dobbins's.
The sailors did n't scold about their boat, you
may be sure, when they knew what service it had
Aunt Dorcas soon came to herself enough to know
them, and to speak to them, but they none of them
dared to ask the question that was trembling on

their tongues-where was Cap'n 'Siah? And Aunt
Dorcas seemed too weak to remember anything that
had happened.
But while they were sitting there, looking ques-
tioningly into each other's faces, in walked a drenched
and weather-beaten, and pale-faced man-Cap'n
'Siah, but ten years older, it seemed, than he had
been that afternoon. But when he caught sight of
Aunt Dorcas, he threw himself into a chair, and
covered his face with his hands, and when he took
them away they saw tears on his cheeks-great
rough man as he was.
I thought she'd got drowned, and I 'd let her,"
he said. "You see, I wa' n't looking' at the sky, as
I 'd ought to 'a' ben, and that pesky little boat went
over ker-slap, an' there we was, both in the water.
I ketched hold o' the boat, and reached for yer Aunt
Darkis, and jest missed her! Then I let go o' the
boat, and tried to swim for her, but I found I was
sinkin', with all my heavy toggery on, and I ketched
hold o' the boat again. Then a big wave knocked
me off, and I went down, and I thought I was done
for, but when I came up I managed to grab the
boat again. But your Aunt Darkis was gone. I
could n't see nothing' of her, and in a few minutes
't was so dark I could n't see nothing' at all! By and
by, after I had drifted and drifted, I heard voices,
and I hollered, and that queer craft from the P'int,
the catamaran, picked me up-and there was our
Saul aboard of her! I did n't care much about
bein' picked up, seeing' your Aunt Darkis was
drowned, and I'd let her, but now I 'm obleeged to
ye, Saul, for pickin' me up "
Then Nick and Semanthy told their story, and
soon Aunt Dorcas told how she had clung, for what
seemed like hours, to the steep and slippery rock,
from which Nick and Semanthy had rescued her
just as her strength gave out.
"And yer pa he 's a-courtin' the Widder Dob-
bins, it appears, otherwise he might 'a' ben here to
light the lamp," said Cap'n 'Siah, in a mild and
meditative tone. And yer Aunt Darkis an' me 's
ben a-thinkin' that yer pa an' the Widder Dobbins
an' her six might be enough here, an' so you 'd
better all of you come over to the main and live
with me. My house is big enough for us all, and
Saul, he'll kind of look after my boats that I keep
to let, and Nick, he 'll tend in the store, when he
aint to school, and Semanthy-why, of course Aunt
Darkis could n't do without her; and as for Little
Job and the Baby, why, they '11 kinder keep things
So, not only Aunt Dorcas, but the whole crew
of the captain's gig are gittin' ready now.





5,s'- HIS curious story is
told over and over to
the children of Russia
'. t by their fathers and
... J mothers, who first
heard it from their
.fathers and mothers,
who in their turn had
I;.1 ..-.: learned it in the same
I s o way. For it is like
our own stories of
SCinderella, and Blue-
Beard, and the rest,-
so old that nobody
knows who wrote them
or first told them.
But boys and girls are
alike, the world over, when there is a good story to
be heard. Golden-hair and her wonderful history
are perhaps as well known to Russian children as
Cinderella and her glass slipper are to you. Here
is the tale, with its king, its princess, its water of
life, and all:
There was a certain king, and he was so wise
that he understood all animals, no matter what
they said.
Now hear how he learned this art: Once an old
grandmother came to him, bringing a fish in a
basket, and told him to have it cooked; that, if he
would eat it, he would understand what living
creatures in the air, on the earth, and in the
waters, say. It pleased the king to be able to
know what no man knew; he paid the old woman
well, called his servant straightway, and commanded
him to have the fish ready for dinner. "But see
to it," said he, "that you don't put a bit on your
tongue; if you do, you '11 pay for itwith your head."

When it was all ready, he put a bit on his tongue
and tasted it. That moment he heard something
buzz about his ears:
Some for us, too ; some for us, too."
Yiry looked around, and saw nothing but a few
flies moving around the kitchen. But on the street
he heard a hoarse voice:
"Where are you going-where are you going? "
"To the miller's barley-to the miller's barley."
Yiry looked out of the window and saw a flock
of geese.
"Oh," thought he, "that's the kind of fish it
is! It gives one a new gift of hearing. I have
found out! "
He put a fresh piece in his mouth and carried
the remainder to the king, just as if nothing had
After dinner, the king ordered Yiry to saddle his
horse and attend him, for he wanted to ride. The
king rode ahead and Yiry behind. When they
were crossing a green field, Yiry's horse sprang for-
ward and kicked up his heels.
Oh, ho, brother," said he, "I feel so light that
__. I should like to jump over a
S' -- J mountain !"
"What of that?" said the
other horse. I should like
I to jump, too; but an old man
1 ',''.. sits on my back. If I jump,
he would certainly fall to the
ground like a bag, and be badly injured."
Let him! said Yiry's horse. Then, instead
of an old, you '11 carry a young man."
Yiry laughed heartily, but to himself, lest the
king should notice it. But the king, who also
knew what -the horses were saying, looked around
and saw that Yiry was laughing. He inquired:

,: -...- _

1-i-' ... -A.-

.,.- -',,,- :Va

king should have forbidden him so very strictly .
"While I live," said he to himself, "I have n't
seen such a fish; it looks just like a snake; and "What are you laughing at ?"
what sort of a cook would he be, I 'd like to know, "Nothing important, your majesty; something
who would n't taste of what he was cooking I came into my mind."





The king suspected him, however, and did not
trust the horses; so he turned back. When they
came to the castle, the king ordered Yiry to pour
him out a glass of wine.
"But if you don't fill it, or if it overflows, your
head will pay for the mistake," said he.
Yiry took the decanter and was pouring; at that
moment two birds flew to the window; one was
chasing the other-the one pursued had three
golden hairs in its bill.
"Give them to me," said the other.
"I will not give them up-they are mine; I
picked them up," said the first bird.
"But I saw them as they fell, when the golden-
haired lady combed her hair," said the second.
"Well, I shall keep two of them, at least."
"No; not one."
Then the second bird rushed at the first, and
seized the golden hairs. After they had struggled
for them on the wing, one hair remained in each
bird's bill. The third fell to the ground and
Yiry looked after it, and the wine overflowed the
"You have lost your life," said the king; "but
if you wish, I will be merciful. I will spare you, if
you find and bring me the golden-haired maiden to
be my wife."
What was Yiry to do? He wished to save his
life. He must go for the maiden, though he did n't
know where to look for her. He saddled his horse,
and went in one direction and another. He came
to a dark forest, and under the trees near the road
a bush was burning. The shepherds had set it on
fire. Under the bush was an ant-hill; sparks were
falling upon it, and the ants were running hither
and thither in great alarm, and carrying their
small white eggs.
Oh, help us, Yiry, dear help us cried they,
pitifully. "We are burning up, and our little ones
are in these eggs." I
He jumped from his horse in an instant, cut
down the bush and put out the fire.
"When you are in need, think of us, and we
will help you, too."
Then he traveled through the forest till he
came to a lofty fir-tree; on its summit was a
raven's nest, and beneath it, on the ground,
two little ravens were crying, and said, T
"Our father and our mother have flown
away. We have to find food for ourselves;
and, weak little piping things, we don't know how
to fly yet. Oh, help us, Yiry, dear! help us!
Feed us, or we shall perish of hunger."
Not thinking long, Yiry sprang from his horse,
and plunged the sword into his horse's side, so the
little ravens might have something to eat.

If you need it," piped the young ravens, think
of us, and we will help you, too."
Yiry was obliged to continue his journey on foot.
He traveled long through the woods, and when at
length he came out, he saw in front of him the
great sea. On the shore two fishermen were quar-
reling. They had caught a great golden fish.
Each one wished to have it for himself alone.
"The net is mine The fish is mine !" said one.
To this the other answered:
Little good would your net have been without
my boat and my help."
When we catch another such, it will be yours."
"No, no; you wait for the other and give me
"I will settle between you," said Yiry. "Sell
me the fish; I will pay you well. Divide the money
between you equally."
He gave them all the money the king had
given him for the journey. He spared nothing.
The fishermen were glad to find so good a market.
But Yiry let the fish out into the sea. The fish

S. A ,. ,1
* ^'.. . ,

i/. ^^^^'I ,"

moved about gladly; dived down, came up again,
and stuck out its head near the shore, saying:
"If you should need me, Yiry, think of me, and
I 'll serve you."
Then it disappeared.
"Where are you going? asked the fishermen.
"I am going to get the golden-haired maiden as
bride for my master, the old king," answered Yiry,
"and I don't know where to look for her."
"Oh, we can tell you all about her," said the
fishermen. "That is Golden-Hair, the daughter
of the king of the crystal palace there on that
island. Every morning at day-break she combs her
golden hair, and light goes out from it over the sky

S '-, -- --- ..
-LJ -- -

and the sea. If you like, we '11 take you to the island,
since you settled our dispute so well. But be care-
ful to choose the right maiden, for there are twelve
sisters, daughters of the king, and only one has
golden hair."
When Yiry reached the island, he went to the




crystal palace to ask the king to give his golden-
haired daughter to his master as wife.
I will," answered the king, "but you must earn
her. During three days you must perform three

*~ --~f .' -~- A ___
,r. T -

tasks that I shall give you-one each day. Now,
you may rest till to-morrow."
Next day the king said: My Golden-Hair had a
string of precious pearls; the string snapped, and
the pearls fell amongst the tall grass in the green
meadow. You must collect these pearls so that hot
one shall be missing."
Yiry went to the meadow; it was long and wide.
He knelt down in the grass and began to search.
He looked and looked, from morning till midday,
but did not find a single pearl.
Oh, if my ants were here, they would help me."
"But we are here to help you," called the ants,
as they swarmed around him. "What do you
wish ?"
"I have to gather Golden-Hair's pearls in this
meadow, and I do not see a single one."
"Wait a while. We will collect them for you."
It was not long before they brought him a heap
of pearls from the grass.
All that was needed was to
put them on a string.
When he was about to
tie the ends of the string,
one halting ant came up, .:
he was lame; he had burn-
ed his leg at the time of
the fire. He cried out: '-,,
"Wait, Yiry, my dear, ,'
don't fasten the ends; I
bring one more little pearl."
When Yiry brought the pearls to, the king, he
counted them; not one was missing.
"You have done yourwork well," said he. "To-
morrow I will give you another task."
Yiry came in the morning and the king said to

"My Golden-Hair was bathing in the sea, and
she lost a gold ring. You must find it and bring
it here."
Yiry went to the sea, and walked along the shore
in sadness. The sea was clear, but so deep that he
could not see the bottom.
"Oh, if my gold-fish were here, it could help

That moment something gleamed in the water,
and out of the depth a gold-fish swam to the
surface and looked up at Yiry.
"But I am here to help you. What do you wish ?"
"I have to find a gold ring in the sea, and
I cannot see the bottom."
I have seen a pike with a gold ring in its
fin. Wait a bit, I will bring it to you."
It was not long till the fish returned with
the pike and the ring.
The king praised Yiry for having done his
work so well, and the next morning gave him
the third task.
If you wish that I should give my Golden-
Hair to your king as wife, you must bring the
waters of life and death. She will need them."
Yiry did n't know where to go for the waters;
he went here and there, wherever his legs carried
him, till he came to a dark forest.
"Oh, if my ravens were here, they would help
Here something rustled above his head, and,
wherever they came from, the two ravens were
"But here we are to help you. What do you
wish? "
"I have to get the waters of life and death, and
I don't know where to look for them."
Oh, we know well. Wait a little, and we will
bring them to you."
In a short time, each one brought Yiry a gourd



,ll .. .mrt 1 1 .r '. .as
f .. :._ the .: r
t!i, f(,-r .:.l' d r- r ir o is
rejoiced that he had succeeded so

well, and hastened to the palace near the wood.
He saw a spider's web stretched from one fir-tree
to another, and in the center a great spider at1
tacking a fly. Yiry took the gourd with the
water of death, sprinkled the spider, and he fell
to the ground dead. Then he sprinkled the fly
with the water of life, from the other gourd. It
began to buzz, escaped from the web, and flew out
into the air.
It's your luck, Yiry, that you brought me to
life," buzzed the fly, "for without me, you would
have hardly guessed which of the twelve is Golden-
When the king saw that Yiry had performed




theI three tasks, he agreed to give him his golden-
haired daughter.
But," said he, "you must find her yourself."
Then he led him into a great hall. In the middle
of the hall was a circular table. Around the table
sat twelve beautiful maidens, one like the other, but
each had on her head a long head-dress, reaching
to the ground, and white as snow. So it could not
be seen what kind of hair they had.
"Here are my daughters," said the king. "If
you guess which one of them is Golden-Hair, she
is yours, and you may take her away; if you do
not guess, then she was not destined for you, and
you must go away without her."
Yiry was in the greatest trouble, he did n't
know how to begin.' That moment something
whispered in his ear:
"Buzz, b-z-z, b-z-z. Go around the table. I will
tell you which is she."
It was the fly which Yiry had rescued from the
spider, and raised up with the water of life.

You have guessed," said the king.
She threw off her head-dress, and her golden
hair rolled down in great waves to the floor, and
threw out just such a light as the sun does when
it rises, so that Yiry's eyes were almost dazzled by
the radiance.
Then the king gave his' daughter a proper out-
fit for the journey, and Yiry conducted her to the
old king. The old king's eyes sparkled, and he
jumped for joy when he saw Golden-Hair, and
gave orders to prepare for the wedding.
I wished to hang you for your disobedience,"
said the king, "so the crows might eat you; but
you have served me so successfully that I will
only cut your head off, and then I will have you
buried decently."
When they had cut off Yiry's head, Golden-
Hair begged the old king to give her the dead
servant. He could n't refuse his Golden-Hair.
She put Yiry's head on his body, and sprinkled
him with the water of death. The body and head

It is not this maiden, nor this, nor this, either," grew together, so there was n't a sign of a wound.
buzzed the fly to Yiry. "But here is Golden-Hair." Then she sprinkled him with the water of life, and
Give me this daughter," cried Yiry, stepping Yiry rose up as if he had been born anew, fresh as
near to her. I have earned her for my master." a deer, and youth shone bright on his face.




Oh, how soundly I have slept," said Yiry, and
rubbed his eyes.
"I believe that," said Golden-Hair. "And if
it had not been for the water of life, you would
not have awakened for ages."
When the old king saw that Yiry had come to life,
and that he was younger and more handsome than
before, he wished to be young again himself. He
gave orders to cut his own head off, and sprinkle
him with the waters. So they beheaded him and

sprinkled him with the water of life till it was all
used up, but the head would n't grow to his body.
Then they began to sprinkle him with the water
of death; body and head grew together at once,
but now the old king was dead in earnest, for
they had no water of life with which to raise him
up. And as a kingdom cannot be without a king,
and there was no other man in the realm so wise
as to know the speech of all animals, as Yiry did,
they made Yiry king and Golden-Hair queen.



OH Dolly, dear Dolly, I 'm thirteen to-day,
And surely 't is time to be stopping my play!
My treasures, so childish, must be put aside;
I think, Henrietta, I '11 play that you died;
I 'm growing so old that of course it wont do
To care for a dolly,-not even for you.

Almost a young lady, I 'll soon wear a train
And do up my hair; but I '11 never be vain.
I '11 study and study and grow very wise-
Come, Dolly, sit up now, and open your eyes;
I '11 tie on this cap, with its ruffles of lace,
It always looks sweet round your beautiful face.

I '11 bring out your dresses, so pretty and gay,
And fold them all smoothly and put them away;
This white one is lovely, with sash and pink bows-
Ah, I was so happy while making your clothes !
And here is your apron, with pockets so small,
This dear little apron, 't is nicest of all.

And now 'for your trunk, I will lay them all in-
Oh Dolly, dear Dolly, how can I begin !

How oft of our journeys I '11 think with a sigh-
We 've traveled together so much, you and I!
All over the fields and the garden we went,
And played we were gypsies and lived in a tent.

We tried keeping house in so many queer ways,
Out under the trees in the warm summer days!
We moved to the arbor and played that the
Were housekeepers too, and were neighbors of
We lived in the hay-loft, and slid down the
And went out to call on the turkeys and chicks.

Now here is your cradle with lining of blue,
And soft little pillow-I know what I '11 do!
I '11 rock you and sing my last lullaby song,
And I '11-No, I can't give you up 'T will be
wrong !
So sad is my heart, and here comes a big tear-
Come back to my arms, oh, you precious old








Pip-' J: I


You all have. read in your geographies, or have
been told, about the vast "rivers of ice" called
There are more than four hundred "stream
glaciers" in Switzerland and the adjoining Tyrol,
which have made those countries famous. No
scene is more striking or beautiful than these great
ice-rivers, placed often amid fertile and wooded val-
leys, where there are growing grain fields, fruit
trees in bloom, smiling meadows, and human hab-
Many ages ago, a greater part of the surface of
the earth was covered with a sea of snow and ice,
just as Greenland and certain parts of Switzerland
are to-day. All the minor ridges and valleys of
Greenland are constantly concealed under huge
layers of ice and snow. The broad wastes of
Greenland ice go on slipping forward and down to
the sea, where, breaking loose in mountainous
masses, they sail away as icebergs-the terror and
dread of the northern Atlantic seas. Not many
months ago, a great steam-ship, the "Arizona,"
ran into an iceberg and broke away a portion
of her bow. Iideed, in many cases, vessels

have been utterly wrecked by icebergs. These
floating mountains of ice are often of enormous
size. Some of them have been grounded in Baf-
fin's Bay, where the water is 1,500 feet deep.
Another, seen by a French explorer in the South
Sea, presented a mass of ice nearly equal to the
greatest of the Swiss glaciers, it being thirteen
miles long, and with walls Ioo feet above the
water. As ice floats with but one-ninth of its bulk
raised above the surface of the sea, the term float-
ing mountain does not seem to be an exaggeration.
In 1842, the steamer "Acadia" passed one in
the Atlantic ocean that was 400 to 500 feet above
water, and therefore, on a moderate calculation,
some 3,000 feet below the surface-a total height
equal to that of the highest peak of the Green
Glaciers are produced by the gradual changing
into ice of the peculiar granular snow that falls in
the high Alpine regions, above the snow limit
of 18,ooo feet. The height at which vegetation
ceases in Switzerland is about 6,000 feet, though
Prof. Agassiz found a tuft of lichen growing on the
only rock that pierced through the icy summit of




the Jungfrau mountain, nearly 13,000 feet above the
sea. The snow, as it showers down, is as perfectly
dry as so much fine flour, and the ice formed from
it is very different from our pond or river ice, or
sea ice, called ice-floe. The snow not only falls in
winter, but from time to time throughout the
seasons. Melting during the day, it is at night
frozen into a kind of pudding-stone ice, in rough
cakes, which gradually or suddenly slip below to
form the first portion of the glacier. As they col-
lect in very loose order, they move slowly farther
down, melting and freezing together, until they
become changed into a mass of clear blue ice at the
lowest point of the glacier. It is curious to examine
one, starting upward from where the ice is trans-
parent and blue, and find it gradually becoming
less compact, less clear, more light and granular,
until at the highest point, where it is snow, it is
as light and shifting as down.
Very large quantities of rock and broken ma-
terial from the tops of the Alps are carried down
by the glaciers, either quite into the low valleys, or
to the ledges along the way. These accumulations
on the side of a glacier appear, like the embank-
ments of a canal or river, as if built to prevent the
glacier from spreading. In the lower portion of
Switzerland, called the Jura, are to be found blocks
of stone, some of them as large as cottages, trans-
ported there by glaciers from a distance of fifty
miles. The rocks, broken material, and dust are
so thickly spread over the tops of most ice-rivers
that their true character is concealed, and at a little
distance, or even in walking over them, not a strip
of ice can be seen for some distance. The surfaces
of others, however, are clear, like the Rhone glacier,
and dazzling to the eyes in a strong sunlight.
Strange sights appear in plenty as you wander
over one of these huge ice-rivers. Large slabs of
stone, supported on legs of ice, are frequently to
be met with, the leg of ice having been saved from
melting by the stone. (These blocks of ice make
very convenient tables, too, on which to spread out
a lunch.) Whenever a glacier's course takes it
over a precipice or sharp decline, the surface is
split up into innumerable huge ice-needles and
ice-pyramids, some standing at an angle, appear-
ing just ready to topple over and crush any one
rash enough to approach them. Occasionally, at
a sharp decline, the ice-river will break in two,
the forward part shooting ahead, and the rear
portion gradually, or as quickly, closing up the
gap. A hamlet in the St. Nicholas valley has
been, on several occasions, partially destroyed by
the falling of the Bis glacier. At one time, 360
millions of cubic feet of ice fell in an instant
toward the hamlet, the agitation of the air causing
houses to be twisted around and their roofs torn

off, while many others were crushed like almond-
shells. In speaking of a scene like this, an eye-
witness says: "It made its presence known by
a frightful noise; everything around us appeared
to move of itself. Rocks, apparently solidly fixed
in the ice, began to detach themselves and dash
against each other; crevasses [cracks in the ice],
ten and twenty feet wide, opened before our eyes
with a fearful crash, and others, suddenly closing,
drove to a great height the water which they con-
tained." When these cracks do not close up, or,
as is frequently the case, do not extend to the bot-
tom of the glacier, the melted ice-water flows down
their sides, to collect at the bottom, and, in doing so,
polishes the ice to a beautiful marine green. I saw
a guide on the Groner glacier pause over a crevasse
many yards wide and nearly filled with water;
and such was its depth that, after he had hurled
his heavy alpenstock down through the water, some
time elapsed-in fact, I thought it lost-before it
shot up through the green surface. If the water
flows into a well from between the layers of ice, a
weird sound may be heard coming up from the
depths, that has been well compared to the tinkling
of a silver bell. The smaller cracks in the ice be-
come lightly covered by frost or snow, and the
careless traveler runs the risk of breaking through
these frail snow-bridges, and losing his life. Such
accidents are prevented by the members of a
party linking themselves together with a strong,
light rope, and, in case one person breaks through,
the others prevent him from falling any distance.
Several lives have been lost in Switzerland, during
the past season, through the neglect of this pre-
It is at the lowest portion of a glacier, however,
that more signs of its destruction are to be seen
than elsewhere. The melting ice at the end of
the Glacier des Bois often forms an ice-vault, or
portico, one hundred feet high, from the bottom of
which rushes out the yellowish, frothy glacier-
water. When the vault becomes top-heavy, it
breaks in upon the stream with a thundering crash.
One winter, one of these vaults was' supported by
a regular and beautifully fluted column composed
of icicles. The lower part of an ice-river sometimes
forms a delightful picture, with its flower-covered
banks, a rye-field, perhaps, growing at one side,
and the ears of ripening rye nodding over the ice.
On one of the most beautiful Alpine routes,
the bridle-path leads over green pastures and alps
decked with rhododendrons and patches of vivid and
countless wild-flowers; passing in view of a magnifi-
cently scarred and broken wall of ice and snow
twenty-five miles long, which pierces the clouds, and
increases in grandeur almost throughout the whole
distance. About the middle of the second day of



the journey, we would find ourselves, after a good
dinner, seated in a comfortable chair within a seem-
ing stone's throw of that majestic mountain, the
Jungfrau, its summit and higher portions covered
with snow of the most brilliant purity, while one of
its minor peaks, called the silver horn, is perfectly
dazzling. Here, seated in safety and ease, we might,
on a warm day, be greeted by the rush and bomb
of an avalanche. At the distance, though seem-
ingly near, it would appear like a small white cascade
curling up white puffs of snow, but in reality it
would consist of many tons of ice and snow power-
ful enough to cut its way through any obstacle,
though there harmlessly hurling itself into a de-
serted valley.
There are many celebrated Alpine points from
which to view the glaciers. In descending from one
of these higher overlooking mountains, the ascent
to which had led us a half-hour over ice and snow,
the distance was considerably shortened by a safe
and exhilarating slide on the smooth ice covered
with downy snow. It reduced the half-hour to a
few minutes, but I had no wish to repeat the ex-
periment. We simply had to take a seat on the
snow near the edge of the incline, give a slight push,

Near Mount Rosa, in 1861, some members of the
Alpine Club discovered a peculiarly grand and
beautiful crevasse, hollowed out into a long cavern
formed like the letter C. The walls were of a trans-
parent blue color, arched over from the sun, "while
from the roof above hung down a forest of long, clear
icicles, each adorned with two or three lace-like
fringes of hoar frost." They were seeking shelter
from a sudden gale of wind, and to enter the cavern
were forced to sweep these beautiful decorations
down with their poles.
The three pictures will give you a good idea of
how the Alpine glaciers look. The one on page
14 represents the Rosenlaui glacier, noted for the
rosy hue and great purity of its ice. It lies between
the two mountains of the Wellhorn and the Engel-
horner, and to the right of the picture is the Wetter-
horn, a famous Alpine peak, 12,165 feet high.
The Rhone glacier, shown in our second illustra-
tion, is imbedded between the Gersthorn and the
Galenstock, and extends backward like a huge
terrace for a distance of fifteen miles. As its
name denotes, it is the source of the river Rhone.
At the foot of this glacier, an ice-grotto is hewn
into the mass of clear blue ice. To the right is



and before we knew what had happened, the bot- seen the Furca road, ascending the mountain in
tom of the snow-field was reached. The drawbacks long zig-zags.
were shoes and garments filled with snow, followed The Grand Mulets is 1o,ooo feet above the level
the next day by frosted toes,-in August, too. of the sea, and is the point reached by travelers on




the first day's ascent of Mont Blanc. During the
second day, they reach the summit and return to
Grand Mulets, and on the third they descend to
Chamounix. It was in the vale of Chamounix that
the English poet, Coleridge, wrote his beautiful
" Hymn before Sunrise," containing these lines
about the glaciers:

"Ye ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow
Adown enormous ravines slope amain-
Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice,
And stopped, at once, amid their maddest plunge.
Motionless torrents! Silent cataracts!
Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven
Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun
Clothe you with rainbows?' Who, with living flowers
Of loveliest hue, spread garlands at your feet?
God!-Let the torrents, like a shout of nations
Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!"

Mont Blanc, you know, is the highest mountain
-of Europe, and on its side, in. an icy desert 9143
feet above the sea, is to be found a little oasis of
grass and flowers celebrated all over the world as
the Jardin." A more strangely placed garden"
is not to be found anywhere; it is the delight of
travelers, and there are to be seen, in many Ameri-

can homes, carefully pressed flowers from. this lofty
garden, preserved as souvenirs of a visit there.
During certain states of the atmosphere, in pass-
ing over the upper portions of a glacier, gleams
of beautiful blue light issue from every hole made
by the feet or staff in the snow. At that elevation,
the snow as it falls is presented to the naked eye
as showers of white, frozen flowers, all of them
six-leaved, but of many different arrangements.
When, from a high peak, the wind catches up this
new-fallen snow in light clouds, and spreads it out
like the graceful tail of a comet, the Swiss say the
peak is smoking a pipe.
The glaciers assume many other strange appear-
ances, sometimes looking like a pure water-fall, as
in the case of the Palii glacier, which is claimed by
many to be the most beautiful of all. Sometimes
they look in the distance like fleecy clouds resting
in the hollows, and sometimes, at sunset, like gor-
geous plains of many-colored crystal. The singu-
lar effect called "red snow," to be found among
the glaciers, is really a curious plant, springing up
in such abundance as to redden large patches, just
as small plants make green the surfaces of our
ponds in summer.







And what will we sing?
Some little crinkety-crankety thing,
That rhymes and chimes
And skips, sometimes,
As though wound up with a kink in the spring.

Grunkety-krung !
And chunkety-plung !
Sing the song that the bull-frog sung,-
A song of the soul
Of a mad tadpole,
That met his fate in a leaky bowl;
And it 's 0 for the first false wiggle he made
In a sea of pale pink lemonade!
And it's 0 for the thirst
Within him pent,
And the hopes that burst
As his reason went,
When his strong arm failed and his strength was
Sing, 0 sing!
Of the things that cling,
And the claws that clutch, and the fangs that
Till the tadpole's tongue
And his tail unflung
Quavered and failed with a song unsung !
-Oh the dank despair in the rank morass,
Where the cray-fish crouch in the cringing grass,

And the long limp rune of the loon wails on
For the mad, sad soul
Of a bad tadpole
Forever lost and gone l

And now we '11 see
What the last of the lay shall be,
As the dismal tip of the tune, 0 friends,
Swoons away where the long tail ends.
And its 0 and alack!
For the tangled legs
And the spangled back
Of the green grigg's eggs,
And the unstrung strain
Of the strange refrain
That the winds wind up like a strand of rain.
And it's 0,
For the ears wreathed low,
Like a laurel-wreath on the lifted brow,
Of the frog that chants of the why and'how,
And the wherefore, too, and the thus and so
Of the wail he weaves in a woof of woe.
Twangle, then, with your wrangling strings
The tinkling links of a thousand things !
And clang the pang of a maddening moan
Till the echo, hid in a land unknown,
Shall leap as he hears, and hoot and hoo,
Like the wretched wraith of a Whoopty Doo.



THERE was once a great castle which belonged
to a magician. It stood upon a high hill, with a
wide court-yard in front of it, and the fame of its
owner spread over the whole land. He was a very
wise and skillful magician, as well as a kind and
honest man, and people of all degrees came to
him, to help them out of their troubles.
But he gradually grew very old, and at last he
died. His only descendant was a daughter, thir-
teen years old, named Filamina, and everybody

wondered what would happen, now that the great
magician was dead.
But one day, Filamina came out on the broad.
front steps of the castle, and made a little speech
to all the giants, and afrits, and fairies, and genii,
and dwarfs, and gnomes, and elves, and pigmies,
and other creatures of that kind, who had always
been in the service of the old magician, to do his.
bidding when some wonderful thing was to be



"Now that my poor father is dead," said she, I
think it is my duty to carry on the business. So
you will all do what I tell you to do, just as you
used to obey my father. If any persons come who
want anything done, I will attend to them."
The giants and fairies, and all the others, were
very glad to hear Filamina say this, for they all
liked her, and they were tired of being idle.
Then an afrit arose from the sunny stone on
which he had been lying, and said that there were
six people outside of the gate, who had come to see
if there was a successor to the magician, who could
help them out of their trouble.
You can bring them into the Dim-lit Vault,"
said Filamina, "but, first, I will go in and get
ready for them."
The Dim-lit Vault was a vast apartment, with
a vaulted ceiling, where the old magician used to
see the people who came to him. All around the
walls or shelves, and on stands and tables, in
various parts of the room, were the strange and
wonderful instruments of magic that he used.
There was a great table in the room, covered with
parchments and old volumes of magic lore. At
one end of the table was the magician's chair, and
in this Filamina seated herself, first piling several
cushions on the seat, to make herself high enough.
"Now, then," said she, to the afrit in attend-
ance, everything seems ready, but you must light
something to make a mystic smell. That iron
lamp at the other end of the room will do. Do
you know what to pour into it ? "
The afrit did not know, but he thought he could
find something, so he examined the bottles on the
shelves, and taking down one of them, he poured
some of its contents into the lamp and lighted it.
In an instant there was an explosion, and a piece
of the heavy lamp just grazed the afrit's head.
"Don't try that again," said Filamina. "You
will be hurt. Let a ghost come in. He can't be
So a ghost came in, and he got another iron
lamp, and tried the stuff from another bottle. This
blew up, the same as the other, and several pieces
of the lamp went right through the ghost's body,
but-of course it made no difference to him. He
tried again, and this time he found something
which smelt extremely mystical.
Now call them in," said Filamina, and the six
persons who were in trouble entered the room.
Filamina took a piece of paper and a pencil, and
asked them, in turn, what they wished her to do for
them. The first was a merchant, in great grief
because he had lost a lot of rubies, and he wanted
to know where to" find them.
"How many of them were there?" asked
Filamina of the unlucky merchant.

"Two quarts," said the merchant. I measured
them a few days ago. Each one of them was as
large as a cherry."
"A big cherry? asked Filamina.
Yes," said the merchant. The biggest kind
of a cherry."
Well," said Filamina, putting all this down on
her paper, you can come again in a week, and I
will see what I can do for you."
The next was a beautiful damsel who had lost
her lover.
"What kind of a person is he ?" asked Filamina.
"Oh," said the beautiful damsel, "he is hand-
somer than tongue can tell. Tall, magnificent, and
splendid in every way. He is more graceful than
a deer, and stronger than a lion. His hair is like
flowing silk, and his eyes like the noon-day sky."
Well, don't cry any more," said Filamina. "I
think we shall soon find him. There can't be
many of that kind. Come again in a week, if
you please."
The next person was a covetous king, who was
very anxious to possess the kingdom next to his
The only difficulty is this," he said, his greedy
eyes twinkling as he spoke, "there is an old
king on the throne, and there is a very young
heir-a mere baby. If they were both dead, I
would be the next of kin, and would have the
kingdom. I don't want to have them killed in-
stantly. I want something that will make them
sicker, and sicker, and sicker, till they die."
Then you would like something suitable for a
very old man, and something for a very young
child? said Filamina.
"That is exactly it," replied the covetous king.
Very well," said Filamina; come again in a
week, and I will see what I can do for you."
The covetous king did not want to wait so long,
but there was no help for it, and he went away.
Next came forward a young man, who wanted to
find out how to make gold out of old iron bars and
horseshoes. He had tried many different plans,
but could not succeed. After him came a general,
who could never defeat the great armies which
belonged to the neighboring nations. He wanted
to get something which would insure victory to his
army. Both of these were told to come again in a
week, when their cases would be attended to.
The last person was an old woman, who wanted
to know a good way to make root-beer. She had
sold root-beer for a long time, but it was not very
good, -and it made people feel badly, so that her
custom was falling off. It was really necessary,
she said,'for her to have a good business, in order
that she might support her sons and daughters,
and send her grandchildren to school.




Poor woman! said Filamina. I will do m,
best for you. Do you live far away ? "
"Oh, yes," said the old woman, "a weary way."
Well, then, I will have you taken home, and I
will s-nd for you in a week."
Thereupon, calling two tall giants, she told them
to carry the old woman home in a sedan-chair,
which they'bore between them.
When the visitors had all gone, Filamina called
in her servants and read to them the list she had
As for this merchant," she said, "some of you
gnomes ought to find his rubies. You are used to
precious stones. Take a big cherry with you, and
try to find two quarts of rubies of that size. A
dozen fairies can go and look for the handsome
lover of the beautiful damsel. You 'll be sure to
know him if you see him. A genie can examine
the general's army and see what's the matter with it.
Four or five dwarfs, used to working with metals,
can take some horseshoes and try to make gold
ones of them. Do any of you know of a good dis-
ease for an old person, and a good disease for a
baby ? "
An elf suggested rheumatism for the old person,
and Filamina herself thought of colic for the baby.
Go and mix me," she said to an afrit, "some
rheumatism and some colic in a bottle. I am
going to make that greedy king take it himself.
As for the root-beer," she continued, "those of

Thereupon, Filamina went up to her own room
to take a nap, while quite a number of fairies,
giants, dwarfs and others went to work to try and
make good root-beer. They made experiments
with nearly all the decoctions and chemicals they
found on the shelves, or stored away in corners,
and they boiled, and soaked, and mixed, and
stirred, until far into the night.
It was a moonlight night, and one of the gnomes
went from the Dim-lit Vault, where his companions
were working away, into the court-yard, and there
he met the ghost, who was gliding around by him-
"I '11 tell you what it is," said the gnome, I
don't want to be here to-morrow morning, when
that stuff is to be tasted. They 're making a lot
of dreadful messes in there. I 'm going to run
away,'till it 's all over."
"It does n't make any difference to me," said
the ghost, "for I would n't be asked to drink any-
thing; but, if you 're going to run away, I don't
mind going with you. I have n't got anything to
do." So off the two started together, out of the
great gate.
"Hold up!" soon cried the gnome, who was
running as fast as his little legs would carry him.
"Can't you glide slower? I can't keep up with
"You ought to learn to glide," said the ghost,
languidly. "It's ever so much easier than walking."

r- -' -I
0,/ ~iI


you who think you can do it, can take any of the
stuff you find on the shelves here, and try to
make good root-beer out of it. To-morrow, we
will see if any of you have made beer that is really
good. I will give a handsome reward to the one
who first finds out how it ought to be made."

"When I 'm all turned into faded smoke," said
the gnome, a little crossly, I 'll try it; but I can't
possibly do it now."
So the ghost glided more slowly, and the two
soon came to the cottage of a wizard and a witch,
who lived near the foot of the hill, where they





sometimes got odd jobs from the people who were
going up to the magician's castle. As the wizard
and his wife were still up, the gnome and his com-
panion went in to see
them and have a chat.
" How are you getting ,'
on?" said the ghost, as
they all sat around the ,
fire. Have you done K .I
much incanting lately ?"
"Not much," said the
wizard. "We thoughtwe
would get a good deal of .
business when the old man
died; but the folks seem
to go up to the castle the .
same as ever."
"Yes," said the gnome,
"and there 's rare work
going on up there now. "
They 're trying to make -----
root-beer for an old wo-
man, and you never saw THE
such a lot of poisonous trash as they stewed up."
They can't make root-beer! sharply cried the
witch. "They don't know anything about it.
There is only one person who has that secret, and
that one is myself."
"Oh, tell it to me!" exclaimed the gnome, jump-
ing from his chair. "There 's to be a reward for
the person who can do it right, and -- "
"Reward cried the witch. "Then I 'm likely
to tell it to you, indeed When you 're all done
trying, I 'm going to get that reward myself."
"Then I suppose we might as well bid you good-
night," said the. gnome, and he and the ghost took
their departure.
I '11 tell you what it is," said the latter, wisely
shaking his head, "those people will never pros-
per; they're too stingy."
"True," said the gnome, and just at that mo-
ment they met a pigwidgeon, who had been sent
from the castle a day or two before on a long errand.
He, of course, wanted to know where the gnome
and the ghost were going; but when he heard their
story, he said nothing, but kept on his way.
When he reached the castle, he found that all
the beer had been made, and that the busy workers
had just brought out the various pots and jars into
the court-yard to cool. The pigwidgeon took a sniff
or two at the strange stuff in some of the jars, and
then he told about the gnome and the ghost run-
ning away. When he mentioned the reason of
their sudden departure, the whole assemblage stood
and looked at each other in dismay.
I never thought of that," said a tall giant;
"but it's just what will happen. We shall have

to taste those mixtures, and I should n't wonder a
bit if half of them turned out to be poison. I 'm
going! And so saying, he clapped on his hat,

and made one step right over the court-yard wall.
In an instant, every giant, genie, dwarf, fairy,
gnome, afrit, elf, and the rest of them, followed
him out of the gate or over the wall, and, swarm-
ing down the hill, they disappeared toward all
quarters of the compass.
All but one young hobgoblin. He had a faithful
heart, and he would not desert his mistress. He
stayed behind, and in the morning, when she came
down, he told her what had happened.
"And they have all deserted me," she said,
sadly, "but you."
The hobgoblin bowed his head. His head was
a great deal too large, and his legs and arms were
dangly, but he had an honest face.
"Perhaps they were wise," she said, looking
into the pots and jars. It might have killed them.
But they were cowards to run away, instead of tell-
ing me about it; and I shall make you Ruler of
the Household, because you are the only faithful
The hobgoblin was overwhelmed with gratitude,
and could scarcely say a word.
"But I can never get along without any of them,"
said Filamina. "We must go and look for them;
some may not be far away. We will lock the gate
and take the key. May I call you Hob ? "
The hobgoblin said she certainly might, if she 'd
like it.
"Well, then, Hob," said she, "you must go and
get a chair, for we can't reach the big lock from
the ground."
So Hob ran and got a chair, and brought it out-
side. They pulled the gate shut, and, standing on




the chair, and both using all their force, they turned
the big key, which the hobgoblin then took out,
and carried, as they both walked away.
"You ought to be careful of the key," said
Filamina, for, if you lose it, we shall not be able
to get back. Have n't you a pocket? "
"Not one big enough," said the hobgoblin; "but
you might slip it down my back. It would be safe
So Filamina took the key and slipped it down
his back. It was so big that it reached along the
whole of his spine, and it was very cold; but he
said never a word.
They soon came to the cottage of the wizard,
and there they stopped, to ask if anything had been
seen of the runaways. The witch and the wizard
received them very politely, and said that they had
seen a gnome and a ghost, but no others. Then
Filamina told how her whole household, with the
exception of the faithful hobgoblin, had gone off
and deserted her; and, when she had finished her
story, the witch had become very much excited.
Drawing her husband to one side, she said to him:
"Engage our visitors in conversation for a time.
I will be back directly."
So saying, she went into a little back-room,
jumped out of the window, and ran as fast as she
could go to the castle.
"Just to think of it! she said to herself, as she
hurried along. "That whole castle empty! Not
a creature in it! Such a chance will never happen
again I can rummage among all the wonderful
treasures of the old magician. I shall learn more
than I ever knew in my life "
In the meantime, the wizard, who was a very
kindly person, talked to Filamina and the hob-
goblin about the wonders of Nature, and told them
of his travels in various parts of the earth, all of
which interested Filamina very much; and, as the
hobgoblin was ever faithful to his mistress, he be-
came just as much interested as he could be.
When the witch reached the castle, she was sur-
prised to find the great gate locked. She had
never thought of that. I did n't see either of
them have the key," she said to herself, "and it is
too big to put in anybody's pocket. Perhaps they've
hidden it under the step."
So she got down on her knees, and groped about
under the great stone before the gate. But she
found no key. Then she saw the chair which had
been left by the gate.
"Oho! she cried. "That 's it! They put
the key on the ledge over the gate, and had the
chair to stand on "
She then quickly set the chair before the gate
and stood up on it. But she could not yet reach
the ledge, so she got up on the back. She could

now barely put her hands over the ledge, and
while she was feeling for the key, the chair toppled
and fll over, leaving her hanging by her hands.
She was afraid to drop, for she thought she would
hurt herself, and so she hung, kicking and calling
for help.
Just then, there came up a hippogriff, who had
become penitent, and determined to return to his
duty. He was amazed to see the witch hanging in
front of the gate, and ran up to her.
"Aha!" he cried. "Trying to climb into
our castle, are you ? You 're a pretty one "
Oh, Mr. Hippogriff," said the witch, "I can
explain it all to you, if I can only get down. Please
put that chair under me. I 'll do anything for you,
if you will."
The hippogriff reflected. What could she do for
him? Then he thought that perhaps she knew
how to make good root-beer. So he said he would
help her down if she would tell him how to make
"Never! she cried. "I am going to get the
reward for that myself. Anything but that! "
Nothing but that will suit me," said the hippo-
griff, "and if you don't choose to tell me, I '11 leave
you hanging there until the giants and the afrits
come back, and then you will see what you will
This frightened the witch very much, and in a
few moments she told the hippogriff that, if he
would stretch up his long neck, she would whisper
the secret in his ear. So he stretched up his neck,
and she told him the secret.
As soon as he had heard it, he put the chair
under her, and she got down, and ran home as fast
as she could go.
She reached the cottage none too soon, for the
wizard was finding it very hard to keep on engag-
ing his visitors in conversation.
Filamina now rose to go, but the witch asked her
to stay a little longer.
"I suppose you know all about your good fa-
ther's business," said she, "now that you are
carrying it on alone."
"No," said Filamina, I don't understand it
very well; but I try to do the best that I can."
"What you ought to do," said the witch, "is to
try to find one or two persons who understand the
profession of magic, and have been, perhaps, car-
rying it on, in a small way, themselves. Then they
could do all the necessary magical work, and you
would be relieved of all trouble and worry."
"That would be very nice," said Filamina, "if I
could find such persons."
Just then a splendid idea came into the head of
the hobgoblin. Leaning toward his mistress, he
whispered, "How would these two do ?"




"Good!" said Filamina, and turning to the
worthy couple, she said, Would you be willing to
take the situation, and come to the castle to live ?"
The witch and the wizard both said that they
would be perfectly willing to do so. 'They would
shut up their cottage, and come with her immedi-
ately, if that would please her. Filamina thought
that would suit exactly, and so the cottage was shut
up, and the four walked up to the castle, the witch
assuring Filamina that she and her husband would
find out where the runaways were, as soon as they
could get to work with the magical instruments.
When they reached the gate, and Filamina
pulled the key from the hobgoblin's back, the witch
opened her eyes very wide.
"If I had known that," she said to herself, "I
need not have lost the reward."
All now entered the castle, and the penitent hip-
pogriff, who had been lying in a shadow of the wall,-
quietly followed them.
The wizard and the witch went immediately into
the Dim-lit Vault, and began with great delight to
examine the magical instruments. In a short time
the wizard came hurrying to call Filamina.
Here," he said, when he had brought her into
the room, is a myth-summoner. With this, you can
bring back all your servants. You see these rows
of keys, of so many colors. Some are for fairies,
some for giants, some for genii, and there are some

--;- -L i,

_-^ l---

-- -,1- 1 1, ,',h',
/ - -_ -_: Yi~~iit ll'' I


for each kind of creature. Strike them, and you
will see what will happen."
Filamina immediately sat down before the key-
board of this strange machine, and ran her fingers
along the rows of keys. In a moment, from all
directions, through the air, and over the earth,
came giants, fairies, afrits, genii, dwarfs, gnomes,
and all the rest of them. They did not care to
come, but there was nothing for them but instant

obedience when the magic keys were struck which
summoned them.
They collected in the court-yard, and Filamina
stood in the door-way and surveyed them.
"Don't you all feel ashamed of yourselves ? she
No one answered, but all hung their heads.
Some of the giants, great awkward fellows, blushed
a little, and even the ghost seemed ill at ease.
"You need n't be afraid of the beer now," she
said, I am going to have it all thrown away; and
you need n't have been afraid of-it before. If any
of you had been taken sick, we would have stopped
the tasting. As you all deserted me, except this
good hobgoblin, I make him Ruler of the House-
hold, and you are to obey him. Do you under-
stand that ?"
All bowed their heads, and she left them to their
own reflections.
The next time they run away," said the faithful
Hob, "you can bring them back before they go."
In a day or two, the messengers which Filamina
had sent out to look. for the lost rubies, and the
lost lover, to inquire into the reason why the gen-
eral lost his battles, and to try and find out how
horseshoes could be turned into gold, returned and
made their reports. They had not been recalled
by the myth-summoner, because their special busi-
ness, in some magical manner, disconnected them
from the machine.
The gnomes who had been sent to look for the
rubies, reported that they had searched everywhere,
but could not find two quarts of rubies, the size of
cherries. They thought the merchant must have
made a mistake, and that he should have said cur-
rants. The dwarfs, who had endeavored to make
gold out of horseshoes, simply stated that they could
not do it; they had tried every possible method.
The genie who had gone to find out why the gen-
eral always lost his battles reported that his army
was so much smaller and weaker than those of the
neighboring countries that it was impossible for
him to make a good fight; and the fairies who had
searched for the lost lover said that there were
very few persons, indeed, who answered to the de-
scription given by the beautiful damsel, and these
were all married and settled.
Filamina, with the witch and the wizard, care-
fully considered these reports, and determined upon
the answers to be given to the applicants when they
The next day, there rode into the court-yard of
the castle a high-born boy. He was somewhat
startled by the strange creatures he saw around him,
but he was a brave fellow, and kept steadily on
until he reached the castle door, where he dis-
mounted and entered. He was very much disap-



{ 'I



pointed when he heard that the great magician was
dead, for he came to consult him on an important
When he saw Filamina, he told her his story.
He was the son of a prince, but his father and
mother had been dead for some time. Many of the
people of the principality' to which he was heir
urged him to take his seat upon the throne, because
they had been so long without a regular ruler;
while another large party thought it would be much
wiser for him to continue his education until he was
grown up, when he would be well prepared to enter
upon the duties of his high position. He had been
talked to a great deal by the leaders of each of
these parties, and, not being able to make up his
mind as to what he should do, he had come here for
"Is the country pretty well ruled now?" asked
Filamina, after considering the matter a moment.
"Oh, yes," answered thehigh-born boy; "there

/ i
t n~ ---- ^



are persons, appointed by my father, who govern
everything all right. It's only the name of the
thing that makes some of the people discontented.

All the principalities in our neighborhood have
regular princes, and they want one, too."
I'll tell you what I would do," said Filamina.
"I would just keep on going to school, and being
taught things, until I was grown up, and knew
everything that a prince ought to know. Then
you could just manage your principality in your
own way. Look at me! Here am I with a great
castle, and a whole lot of strange creatures for serv-
ants, and people coming to know things, and I
can do hardly anything myself, and have to get a
wizard and a witch to come and manage my busi-
ness for me. I 'm sure I would n't get into the
same kind of a fix if I were you."
"I don't believe," said the high-born boy, "that
I could have had any better advice than that from
the very oldest magician in the whole world. I will
do just what you have said."
Filamina now took her young visitor around the
castle to show him the curious things, and when he
heard of the people who were coming the next day,
to know what had been done for them, he agreed
to stay and see how matters would turn out. Fila-
mina's accounts had made him very much interested
in the various cases.
At the appointed time, all the persons who had
applied for magical assistance and information as-
sembled in the Dim-lit Vault. Filamina sat at the
end of the table, the high-born boy had a seat at
her right, while the witch and the wizard were at
her left. The applicants stood at the other end of
the table, while the giants, afrits, and the rest of
the strange household grouped themselves around
the room.
"Some of these cases," said Filamina, "I have
.settled myself, and the others I have handed over
to these wise persons, who are a wizard and a witch.
They can attend to their patients first."
The high-born boy thought that she ought to
have said "clients," or patrons," but he was too
polite to speak of it.
The wizard now addressed the merchant who had
lost the rubies.
"How do you know that you lost two quarts of
rubies ?" said he.
"I know it," replied the merchant, "because I
measured them in two quart pots."
"Did you ever use those pots for anything else?"
asked the wizard.
"Yes," said the merchant; "I afterward meas-
ured six quarts of sapphires with them."
"Where did you put your sapphires when you
had measured them? "
"I poured them into a peck jar," said the
Did they fill it ?" asked the wizard.
"Yes; I remember thinking that I might as






well tie a cloth over the top of the jar, for it would
hold no more."
Well, then," said the wizard, "as six quarts of
sapphires will not fill a peck jar, I think you will find
your rubies at the bottom of the jar, where you
probably poured them when you wished to use the
quart pots for the sapphires."
I should n't wonder," said the merchant. "I 'll
go right home and see."
He went home, and sure enough, under the six
quarts of sapphires, he found his rubies.
"As for you," said the wizard to the general
who always lost his battles, "your case is very

simple: your army is too weak. What you want
is about twelve giants, and this good young lady
says she is willing to furnish them. Twelve giants,
well armed with iron clubs, tremendous swords and
long spears, with which they could reach over moats
and walls, and poke the enemy, would make your
army almost irresistible."
"Oh, yes,'. said the general, looking very much
troubled, that is all true; but think how much it
would cost to keep a dozen enormous giants They
would eat more than all the rest of the army. My
king is poor; he is not able to support twelve



In that case," said the wizard, war is a luxury
which he cannot afford. If he cannot provide the
means to do his fighting in the proper way, he
ought to give it up, and you and he should employ
your army in some other way. Set the soldiers at
some profitable work, and then the kingdom will
not be so poor."
The general could not help thinking that this
was very good advice, and when he went home and
told his story, his king agreed with him. The
kingdom lay between two seas, and the soldiers

he declared. The best metal-workers here have
failed in the undertaking, and I myself have
tried, for many years, to turn old iron into gold,
but never could do it. Indeed, it is one, of the
things which magicians cannot do. Are you so
poor that you are much in need of gold ? "
Oh, no," said the young man. I am not
poor at all. But I would like very much to be
able to make gold whenever I please."
The best thing you can do," said the wizard,
"if you really wish to work in metals, is to make

N-" '

- ~ -~ -~- -v


*were set to work to cut a canal right through the
middle of the country, from one sea to the other.
Then the ships belonging to the neighboring
kingdoms were allowed to sail through this canal,
.and charged a heavy toll. In this way the king-
dom became very prosperous, and everybody
.agreed that it was a great deal better than carrying
on wars and always being beaten.
The wizard next spoke to the young man who
wanted to know how to make gold out of horse-
I think you will have to give up your idea,"

horseshoes out of gold. This will be easier than
the other plan, and will not worry your mind so
The young man stood aside. He did not say
anything, but he looked very much disappointed.
This ended the wizard's cases, and Filamina now
began to do her part. She first called up the
greedy king who wanted the adjoining kingdom.
"Here is a bottle," she said, "which contains a
very bad disease for an old person and a very bad
one for a child. Whenever you feel that you
.would like the old king and the young heir, who


x88o.J 'PHISTLE-DOWN. 27

stand between you and the kingdom you want, to
be sick, take a good drink from the bottle."
The greedy king snatched the bottle, and, as
soon as he reached home, he took a good drink,
and he had the rheumatism and the colic so bad
that he never again wished to make anybody sick.
"As for you," said Filamina to the beautiful
damsel who had lost her lover, my fairy messen-
Sgers have not been able to find any person, such as
you describe, who is not married and settled. So
your lover must have married some one else. And,
as you cannot get him, I think the best thing you
can do is to marry this young man, who wanted
to make horseshoes into gold. Of course, neither
of you will get exactly what you came for, but it
will be better than going away without anything."
The beautiful damsel and the young man
stepped aside and talked the matter over, and
they soon agreed to Filamina's plan, and went
away quite happy.
"I am dreadfully sorry," said Filamina to the
old woman who wanted to know how to make
good root-beer, and who sat in the sedan-chair
which had been sent for her, "but we have tried
our very best to find out how to make good root-
beer, and the stuff we brewed was awful. I have
asked this learned witch about it, and she says she
does not now possess the secret. I have also
offered a reward to any one who can tell me how
to do it, but no one seems to want to try for it."
At this moment, the penitent hippogriff came
forward from a dark corner where he had been
sitting, and said: I know what you must use to
make good root-beer."
"What is it? asked Filamina.
Roots," said the hippogriff.
That's perfectly correct," said the witch. "If
a person will use roots, instead of all sorts of drugs
and strange decoctions, they will make root-beer
that is really good."

A great joy crept over the face of the old woman,
and again and again she thanked Filamina for
this great secret.
The two giants raised her in her sedan-chair,
and bore her away to her home, where she imme-
diately set to work to brew root-beer from roots.
Her beer soon became so popular that she was
enabled to support her sons and daughters in
luxury, and to give each of her grandchildren an
excellent education.
When all the business was finished, and the peni-
tent hippogriff had been given-his reward, Filamina
said to the high-born boy:
"Now it is all over, and everybody has had
something done for him or for her."
"No," said the other, "I do not think so.
Nothing has been done for you. You ought not
to be left here alone with all these creatures. You
may be used to them, but I think they 're horrible.
You gave me some advice which was very good,
and now I am going to give you some, which per-
haps you may like. I think you ought to allow
this wizard and this witch, who seem like very hon-
est people, to stay here and carry on this business.
Then you could leave this place, and go to school,
and learn all the things that girls know who don't live
in old magical castles. After a while, when you
are grown up, and I am grown up, we could be
married, and we could both rule over my princi-
pality. What do you think of that plan ? "
I think it would be very nice," said Filamina,
" and I really believe I will do it."
It was exactly what she did do. The next morn-
ing, her white horse was brought from the castle
stables, and side by side, and amid the cheers and
farewells of the giants, the dwarfs, the gnomes, the
fairies, the afrits, the genii, the pigwidgeons, the
witch, the wizard, the ghosts, the penitent hippo-
griff, and the faithful hobgoblin, Filamina and
the high-born boy rode away to school.



A FAIRY bit of thistle-down
Lodged in the middle of a town.
A few years sped; in each bare space
A thistle had found growing place.
A million stubborn, bristling things
From one small seed with filmy wings !

A maiden, idling with a friend,
Uttered a jest,-nor dreamed the end;
And when ill-rumors filled the air,
Wondered, all simply, who could bear
To give such pain? Nor dreamed her jest
Had been the text for all the rest.










.f ou must know that,
across the ocean and
over the Alps, the boys
Sand girls of Switzerland
have a bright idea.
S They have formed a
society, and they have
-. badge. The badge is a
S-pray of evergreen, and the
-i.:iety is a Natural History
i.ce a year, in the spring
r..i... when the sun has lifted
c-" i, e-curtain from the lakes,
so that the fishes can look out,
and the flowers can look in, the
children from far and near come
together for a meeting and a holiday.
They are the boys and girls for a tramp. Their
sturdy legs and long staves, their strong bodies and
short dresses, their gay stockings and stout shoes
prove that beyond a question.
The long, golden hair of the girls, tightly braided
and firmly knotted with ribbons, keeps out of their
eyes, and flashes brightly behind them as they go
clambering over rocks, leaping across rivulets,
scrambling along glaciers, and climbing steep hill-
sides in their search for specimens. When the
village school-master, who usually leads these expe-
ditions, blows his horn, back come the children like
echoes, with baskets, and pockets, and boxes, and

bags full of the treasures of the woods. Then
they eat their dinner just as we would take a picnic,
and, after that, spread out their trophies and decide
who has found the most and who the rarest. They
get the school-master to name their treasures if he
can, and if he can't, they laugh in mischievous tri-
umph, and perhaps enjoy that quite as well.
The meeting ended, the children go home and
arrange their mosses, and ferns, and flowers, and
pebbles, and beetles, and butterflies in cabinets,
and say to their mammas some odd-sounding
words which mean in English that they have had a
perfectly splendid time. Well, it is pretty fine, is n't
it? The fresh air, you know, and the extra holi-
day, the sunshine and the picnic, the beetles and
the girls, perhaps some fish in the brook, and a
teacher to keep you straight and tell you Latin
names for everything you find. No wonder they
enjoy it. Would n't you enjoy it yourself ?
Now, the point is just here: when you come to
think of it, we have all
those things in this country,
Sif we could only get them
together in the right pro-
portions. We 've holidays.
enough: there are Satur-
days. We 've school-mas-
ters as plenty as school-
houses. This is the same sun that shines on
Switzerland, as anybody can tell you, and it does.
not have to cross the sea to find golden hair to,




kindle, either; so why can't we have a similar
Natural History Society over here in America ?
The fact is, we have a little one already, up here
in the Berkshire Hills of Massa- c
chusetts. It is small, but it is
growing. There are branches of ..'f
it in several towns up and down _
the county-a few in New York
State, and one or two as far away as Pennsylvania.
And we like it so much, and get so much fun out of
it, that we wish it to grow larger. In short, we
would like to have all you boys and girls join us.
Many of you will not need to be told why we
call our society The Agassiz Association," for
there are few among the older readers of ST.
NICHOLAS who have not read, or been told, some-
thing about the life of that famous man, so univer-
sally beloved and honored, Professor Louis Agas-
siz,-how, in 1846, already a great naturalist, he
left his native Switzerland, and making America
his home, became Professor at Harvard
College, and built up the greatest "rlIIIl,'Ill
school of Natural History in the coun-
try. Though one of the most learned
of writers, there are parts of his books .
that would interest young people, and
make them understand the delight
their elders felt, who for many years
thronged to hear his lectures on his
favorite science. Though he was born
in Switzerland, and of French parent-
age, our country proudly claims him
as her greatest naturalist, for he adopted
America as his home, and much of his

best work was accomplished here. So our society
is well named. Even if Louis Agassiz had not
been born in Switzerland, where children's sci-
entific societies began,
f. ,- 1 '. what name could carry
f with it greater inspira-
I tion, or awaken keener
S i enthusiasm for the study
-. &-, of nature?
Here is our Society's
.^-'- -- Constitution:
ARTICLE I. The name
of this Society shall be

ART. 2. It shall be the object of this Associa-
tion to collect, study, and preserve natural objects
and facts.
ART. 3. The officers of this Association shall be
a President, Secretary, and Treasurer, who shall
perform the customary duties of such officers.
ART. 4. New Chapters may be added with the

consent of the Association, provided that no such
Chapter shall consist of less than six members.
Chapters shall be named from the towns in which
they exist, and if there be more than one Chapter
in a town, they shall be further distinguished by
the letters of the alphabet.*
ART. 5. Each Chapter may choose its own offi-
cers and make its own by-laws.
ART. 6. This Constitution may be amended in
any particu- ,
lar, by a ;
three-fourths '-
vote of the
Association orit i'. .:[.: ':rt'.-. .
Perhaps I ca.l:.l -t.:li- i'- ... I
you how to be.-in, tili n b', t.:li1 .,.:u
how one of our most active chapters organized.
The President of the Smyrna (New York) Chapter
has the floor: "One night a few scholars re-
mained after school, and proceeded to form a

Chapter. After choosing a chairman
and secretary, a committee was ap-
pointed to draft by-laws, and report at
the next meeting. At the second
meeting the report of this committee
was adopted, permanent officers were
elected, and the organization completed
by signing the constitution and paying
the initiation fee. One of our by-laws
fixed this fee at ten cents, another
stated the number of officers and the
duration of office, and various others
defined the duties of members, the
order of exercises, and the times of

meeting. After that, we met once in two weeks,
went through a regular order of business, and ad-
journed in due form."
Now, if you look at Article 5 of the Constitution,
you will see that each Chapter is to regulate all
such matters as it pleases. For example, the fee of
admission may be made higher, or lower, or omitted
altogether. The more usual sum is twenty-five
cents. Our Lenox Chapter meets every Friday,
after school. We try to fol-
low the first part of Article 2, .
by collecting as many speci- -, \,
mens as we can find.
Each one, too, has a special _.
subject to work up. One
makes a collection of original
drawings of snow crystals.
Another prefers butterflies and moths. One
bright-eyed maiden picks and presses flowers, and
an herbarium is growing under her patient fingers..
We meet the requirements of the last part of

As an illustration of the last clause of Article 4: If there should be four Chapters in Sheffield, they would he named Agassiz Asso-
ciation-Sheffield A." "Sheffield B." "Sheffield C." "Sheffield D," etc.





Article 2 by keeping a record of whatever new or
curious facts with regard to natural history we can
find by our own observation,

or learn from any reliable
source. Then, too, we have,
special topics assigned us
from time to time, which we
have to study up. Not so
easy, either, all of them.
Suppose you try yourself a
few of the more simple ones
Here they are:
I. How many legs have i
spiders and flies? 2. How
many wings have flies and
bees? 3. Is a beetle a bug;
if not, what is the difference? 4. What is the
difference between a bat and a bird? 5. Find the
largest elm tree in town. 6. How can you tell the
age of a tree? 7. Could animals live without
plants, or plants without minerals? 8. How cold
must it be before salt water will freeze? 9. How
hot must water be before
it will boil ? Try with a
--- -thermometer. o1. Do
.-bats lay eggs? I Name
S-- five great naturalists, and

each. 12. What is coal,
.-. and where is it found?
13. Tell the difference be-
S~/;-_i- tween a section of chest-
nut tree and a section of
pine. 14. Differences be-
tween an oak and maple
---leaf. 15. Compare an
S.- elm leaf and a rose leaf.
S16. What are the uses
I-/ -- of leaves? 17. How do
angleworms dig their
I holes? 18. How do snakes
-- move? 19. Differences
between butterflies and
moths. 20. What do
grasshoppers eat? 21. How do crickets sing? 22.
How can you tell poison-ivy? 23. What do lizards
eat? 24. Differences between the teeth of dogs and
cattle; why should they differ? 25. Describe the
egg of a crow and of a woodpecker. 26. Why is
snow white but ice clear ? 27. Does air weigh any-
thing? Prove by experiment. 28. When sap is
taken from trees, is it running up or down? What
makes it run? 29. Describe a feather. 30. De-
scribe a hair; differences between a human hair
and a horse hair. 31. Are sponges animal or veg-
etable? 32. Compare and contrast tomato and
potato vines. 33. If ice is frozen water, why does

it float on the wa-
ter? and what would
happen if it sank .to
the bottom as it froze ?
34. Uses of bark, includ-
ing tan-bark, cork, poplar,
etc. 35. How are icicles
formed? 36. What makes
the sky blue? 37. How many -- I.
angles in a spider's web ? 38. ,. -
Can animals count? 39. What
are drones in a hive ? 40. What
are veins and veinlets in a leaf?
41. How do the margins of leaves
differ? Show specimens. 42. '
How many sides and angles have
snow-flakes? Are they always the
same in number ? 43. How does
a cat purr?
As the branches of the Associa-
tion become more numerous, we
shall derive more and more pleas-
ure from correspondence, and
more and more profit from inter-
change of specimens. A flower
which is common in your neigh-
borhood may be rare in this locality.
We have not time now to tell you more of our
society; but, if you like the plan and wish to join
us, you shall be told the rest. Why should there
not be a ST. NICHOLAS branch of the Agassiz
Association ?* This may be composed of several
Chapters, started in as many different neighbor-
hoods, but all composed of readers of ST. NICH-
OLAS. Let some of you start it. Who will be first ?
If you wish to form a Chapter, let half a dozen
of you get together and choose a chairman and
secretary. Then send a letter to the writer of
this article at Lenox Academy, Lenox, Massachu-
setts, that your names may be enrolled among the
members of the ST. NICHOLAS branch. If you
can't get six to
work together, get
Sas many as you
can. Never mind
--if you are the only
Sone. You can join
the Association at
any rate. If you
will do this, and
are sufficiently in-
terested in the sub-
ject, we will then
tell you more in
detail how to go to work; what to look for, and
when and where to find it; how to make a cheap
cabinet; how to press your flowers and ferns, pre-

* See Letter-Box of present number.




serve your insects, prepare your sections of wood
so as to show the grain, and how to make and re-
cord your several observations.
We will also, when we can,
assist you to determine the-
names of any specimens which .' .
may puzzle you, or will at
least refer you to good authorities on the subject
in question, so that you may study it up for your-
selves as far as you wish.
You may not find many wonderful things,-or
things that you will recognize as wonderful. But
ST. NICHOLAS is a great traveler. If the boys
and girls in all the different places, gladdened by
his visits, were to tell each other about the com-

; ~"c

-r C^ /->

mon things in each one's own neighborhood, there-
would be wonder enough for one year, I am sure.
Yet you may find some-
thing altogether new. Did
n't little Maggie Edward -
find a new fish for her
father ? What ? Never
heard of Thomas Edward
-the dear old shoe-maker
who used to make "up-
pers" all day, and then lie
all night in a hole in a sand-bank, with his head
and gun out, watching for "beasts"? In that
case, you would do well to read the book called
"The Scotch Naturalist," by Samuel Smiles.

. .


BY A. M.

JOSTLE him out from the warmth and light-
Only a vagrant feeble and gray;
Let him reel on through the stormy night--
What though his home be miles away?
With a muttered curse on wind and rain
He crept along through the miry lane.

Lonely the pathway, and dark and cold,
Shelter he sought neathh a ruined wall;
Over his senses a numbness stole,
Round him sleep threw her mystic pall.
Then an angel came with pitying tears
And lifted the veil of by-gone years:

Gayly he sports by a rippling brook;
Soft is the breath of the summer air,
Flowers adorn each mossy nook,
Sunshine and- happiness everywhere.
He is Willie now, just four years old,
With his rose-bud lips and curls of gold.

Hark to the roll of the war-like drum!
See the brave soldiers go marching by!
Home from the battle young Will has come,
Courage and joy in his sparkling eye.
And his pulses thrill with hope and pride,
For he soon will greet his promised bride.

Now in the fireside's flickering glow
Calmly he 's taking his evening rest;
Fondly he kisses his infant's brow,
Sleeping secure on its mother's breast
(And the dreamer stirred and faintly smiled):
He is William now with wife and child.

The curtain dropped-the morning broke-
Faint was the flush in the eastern sky;
Moaning and wretched the sleeper woke,
Brushing a tear from his bloodshot eye.
To his squalid home beyond the hill,
With a saddened heart, crept poor old Bill.






i ~I
"-: ---

.ly*.^ *^ S^*:~t~.^ '

HERE is a pretty harvest scene, which would be
readily understood by European boys and girls, but
which may need a little explanation for young
Americans. "Gleaning in the wheat-fields near
Paris." So these are little French peasant chil-
dren. But do you know what gleaning is?
I cannot tell you how beautiful the great yellow
wheat-fields look in France, with the bright scarlet
poppies and blue corn-flowers along their edges,
and the tall grain waving and nodding in the wind.
It seems too bad to cut it down, and lose the sight
.of so much beauty; but it must be done, and then
the peasant women and children go into the fields
to work with the men. They follow the reapers
about, raking the wheat into piles, and tying it in
bundles or sheaves; but there are always a good
many stalks that fall out, and are left on the ground
for the poor people to gather. That is what these
little girls are doing,-" gleaning," they call it,-and
sometimes there will be a good many children scat-
tered about the field, each trying hard to see who

can get the largest bunch,-for they are very poor,
and the more wheat they can gather, the larger the
loaf o'f bread the baker will give them for it.
The harvest season does not last long, and after
it is over, many of these peasant children go into
the woods with their elders to pick up sticks and
twigs for' fagots,-that is, small bundles of brush-
wood, that are used in France to light the fires
with. Sometimes they have to go a long way to
get a very few fagots, for the people are so poor,
and fire-wood so scarce there, that every tiny twig
is saved.
You may think gleaning is pleasant work, but
how would you like it, if you had to go every
day when it was clear, and sometimes in rainy
weather, too, working all day long, and then, per-
haps, get a whipping at night, because you did
not bring home more wheat or fagots?
It is much easier and pleasanter, however, than
some of the things that these poor children have to
do; but I cannot tell about them now.






THE road up Silver Hill was long, steep, and rug-
ged, and Tom decided to take a rest in the miner's
cabin at the foot before starting up. Without a
rap he tried to lift the latch; but this resisted him.
Now, to fasten a latch was an unheard-of liberty
for any miner to take with a passer-by, and Tom
indignantly marched around to the window.
The scene within nearly took away his breath !
He afterward told his younger brother, confiden-
tially, that "that room took all the shine off the
fixings in Killem's grocery window! The furni-
ture and upholstery were all of home manufacture;
but Tom had never seen a tasteful home, had never
seen anything much better than the rough, dirty
cabins his family camped in occasionally, when
they left the old covered wagon long enough for
the father to try his luck here and there, wherever
the gold-fever led him to imagine the new hole in
the ground a profitable mine.
This was so different. Easy-chairs, carpets, pict-
ures, vases of wild flowers, stands covered with
books, and a lady, with her hair dressed like a
queen's, setting white dishes-not tin either-on a
snow-white table-cloth While he gazed, a witch
of a girl popped out of a corner, and opening
the door, said, "Mrs. Griswold says do you want
to come in, sir ?"
It was a dazed boy who stalked in, returned the
lady's salutation with a grunt, ignored the invitation
to take off his hat, and stared about the room.
Myra, set a-chair for the young man. Are you
living about Silver Hill? "
"You have not been here long ?"
Squatted yesterday."
"Ah! Where?" said Mrs. Griswold, who had
been among the hills long enough to understand
the rough dialect of the miners
"Up to Cotton-tail mine."
"Then we shall have some young people in the
neighborhood. I am glad of that. Myra is the
only young friend I have in the mountains. She
and I study together a while every morning. Have
you ever been at school? "
"Should n't you like to go?"
"Wall-yas "-doubtfully. "Dad'lows to send
me when he makes his pile."
The boy's eyes were taking in all the details of
the simple room.
"Will you tell me your name? said the lady.

I 'm Tom-Tom Owens."
"Well, Tom, I am Mrs. Griswold, and glad to
be acquainted with you."
Some folks might have said this so that Tom
would fairly have hated them. Trust a boy reared
as he had been to sift out every tone of insincerity.
He did not question why she should be glad; he
knew it was so, because she said so.
"Myra, you may gather up your books; Mr.
Griswold will be down to dinner soon. We are
miners, too, Tom. Do you mean to be a miner
when you are grown? "
"Dad 'lows to make a President out o' me," he
answered, soberly.
"A President needs to know a great many
things," was Mrs. Griswold's quiet response.
Tom opened his eyes. He had a way of doing
that which made one feel they were shut when he
was uninterested. Myra had gone, and he had a
feeling that it would n't be at all the thing to "hang
'round" while the family were at dinner; so he
hurried out, followed by a pleasant Good-day."
I 'm a fool he said aloud to himself, as he
sallied up the hill. "I always knowed I did n't
know nothing. "

Some weeks later, Tom, with a clean face and
radiant with happiness, sat by Mrs. Griswold, look-
ing over a book of engravings. Mrs. Griswold had
been giving him daily lessons for some time.
"You have never told me where your father
came from," she was saying.
Oh, mostly all over," laughed Tom. "When
he was a boy, he lived in the big woods, in Maine."
But he was n't brought up in Maine."
"No; they flitted to Pennsylvany, and Father run
off and come to the 'Hio, and afterward to Ala-
bam', and everywhere, I reckon. We come over
the plains in a prairie schooner. It 's all the
home we 've got," ended he, in a half-whisper.
You '11 not live there always, Tom. How are
lessons this week ?"
"I 've squared up that little book, but it 's
mighty slow business. These pictures are nice,
ma'am, but I must light out and get the caows."

At last it had stopped snowing. "The oldest
inhabitant "-but Silver Hill itself was hardly more
than four years old-had never seen so many days
of steady snow-fall.
"I can't find anything of the ca-the cows,





Father," Tom exclaimed, flourishing his empty milk
"bucket" over Samantha's uncombed head. "I
'lowed--I mean I thought-they would have found
their way back to the corral by this time."
Half an hour later, he was on his way to Cedar
Scratch, stepping fearlessly over the deep drifts
with his long Norwegian snow-shoes, in rabbit-fur
cap and muffler, and gray wolf-skin leggins and
mittens, sliding down Silver Hill faster than skates
could carry him on the finest ice. Mrs. Griswold
looked out of the window as his shrill whistle waked
the echoes about the cottage, and he had the satis-
faction of making her his best bow.
Cedar Scratch was only six miles off, the most shel-
tered spot about, and the cattle might have taken
refuge there in the storm. A huddle of miners'
cabins was built in the niches of the Scratch. One
of the Comishmen there had a wife, and a veritable
baby, which, outside the Owens's household, was
the only baby in the district.
Tom's face beamed as he bent forward to his up-
hill work. There was a perfect understanding
between him and those snow-shoes, which, like
sleigh-runners twelve feet long, carried him safely
over pathless ravines, now drifted full. The way
wound up a long gulch, where daylight came only
in a belt from above, past the snow-laden ever-
greens that cling to its sides. A smaller gulch led
into this, toward its head, and Tom stopped and
gazed with delight at the bridge which spanned it,
-a glorious rainbow, its golden foot set into either
bank. The morning mist was just lifting, up the
"Mrs. Griswold ought to see that! Tom ex-
claimed, as he started on. A long hill lay in the
way, where he had to pick his footing among
jagged rocks on end and stubs of burnt trees jut-
ting through the snow.
Right on, he climbed. Some other boy might
have held an indignation meeting against the cows
for running off, and against his father for sending
him all this lonely way after them. Being only
Tom, he did n't grumble a word. Once, the toe
of his snow-shoe became tangled in some hidden
snags, and he was tossed into a drift; but he picked
himself out, with a laugh, and panted on.
Then, suddenly, a low rumble broke on the still,
clear air, quickly growing deeper, fuller, terrible in
its depth and fullness. Was a thunder-peal tearing
apart the sunny winter sky ? Was it an earth-
quake? Tom was no coward, but his heart stood
still as he reached the top of the hill and saw a dust
of fine snow sailing in clouds away from the ten-
anted nook of Cedar Scratch.
A snow slide Layer had gathered on layer
among the overhanging cliffs, until, at length, the
whole mass, a mountain of snow, came down with


a crash, sounding far through the stillness. Tom
stood transfixed, chilled with terror. Then the air
became clear again. Everything seemed as before.
Everything but that little home in the nook, where,
ten minutes before, light streamed in on busy
Mother and crowing baby Rudolph.
He must hasten to them Alas what could he
do? His thoughts came fast. The men were
probably at work in the mine above, and he turned
to take the path that led to it.
What! No path?
He was certain it was just here, around this knob-
like rock. Had they then all perished together?
Help must come.
With new strength and courage, Tom started
homeward. He had run snow-shoe races with all
the young men of Silver Hill, and his fleetness and
skill served well now on the down journey. Baby
Rudolph's image floated before him, and he dashed
a film away from his eyes as he thought, "What if
it had been our Samantha? "
The men said, after it was all over, that Tom
must have been in league with the Fates ever to have
reached the bottom of that hill alive. Perhaps a
better power than the Fates held his feet from fall-
ing. It was such a long, steady-steep slope, that
there was no holding up after once starting, and all
his energies were given to "steering" with the
slender pole he carried. Rocks seemed to rise
straight from the ground before him, which his long
shoes must not touch. On he dashed, all eye, all
nerve, all muscle. Some invisible power was hurl-
ing rock and tree past him. The world was one
whirl. With a long breath of relief, the bottom of
the hill was reached and the easy grade down the
gulch begun. He was very calm now,-calmed by
his own danger; and he saw all the beauties of the
uphill trip, but through such different eyes. He won-
dered'that he could ever have been the careless boy
who heard the prelude of his song up the gulch
before him.
"Tom Owens! Sakes alive! Is the boy crazy ?"
Myra's gay-hooded face was in the path.
Oh,-Myra, run back home just as fast as you
can, and tell your father and the men that the Cor-
nish are all buried in a snow-slide. It was just now.
I heard it; I 'most saw it; and there's no one to
help them. Run; do! "
In a few minutes, a band of sturdy men on snow-
shoes were organized, under the leadership of Mr.
Griswold, and started on Tom's trail. Hands more
willing never grasped a shovel, warmer hearts never
beat. Hour after hour passed in steady work
before they found the earth-roofs, crushed in and
every crevice filled with the cruel snow. While all
the others had gone upon along hunt, one half-sick
man and the woman and child had exchanged this

* This fatal avalanche occurred near Geneva Gulch, Colorado, in 1877.




life for the one to come, without one moment of anvil. Whatever his father had learned in his
suspense, one note of preparation. younger days, or had picked up since, was now
"We'll bury them here," said Mr. Griswold, furbished for his boy's advantage.
It's wonderful how that
boy does take to larnin',"
he said to his wife; and for
S. once she forgot to forebode
.\ evil, and agreed that she
S'should n't be surprised to

find him a preacher, like her
S.' j. _.--brother Bill, fifteen years
S. before in "Injeanny." But
.. Tom did n't expect anything
Wonderful. He studied be-
S -- ,-- cause it seemed so good
.to study. It was as though
S' .' those first thirteen years of
S i his life had been passed in
a dark cave. There had
'-"'. been bats and cobwebs, and
'' a mole or two. Now he had
; 'come into the sunlight of
S/ a marvelous world. When
"" Mrs. Griswold, in her fre-
't,.. ,i quent readings with him,
_. took him among the netted
sunbeams of Tennyson's
!- bubbling,babbling"Brook,"
'or seated him by the open
Si fire of Whittier's Snow-
.. : Bound" home, she began
"''" ,, -". to realize something of the
,,lad's capabilities. She said
S' to her husband one day:
'' '"I wish Tom could be
.i .left with us when the Owens
... make their next move. It
"' is shameful for that boy's
Life to be frittered away."
S .' '" I think Tom's place is
'"" .- with his family," Mr. Gris-
S' wold answered. "What
1. would become of those
'. .. younger children with a
father growing more eccen-
tric, perhaps dissipated, and
a mother who would soon
outcroak the frogs-as what
standing on a spot of cleared earth near the cabin- mortal would n't, in her place? She believes in
door; and tears coursed down grimy faces as he Tom. You may not know that Mr. Owens's even-
said over the broad mound a simple prayer. ings are all spent at home now, 'helping Tom,' as
he calls it. A year ago he was one of Killem's like-
The weeks rolled on, leaving Tom something liest customers. Yes, little wife, you builded better
by which to remember them. There was no loaf- than you knew when you waked up that stupid-
ing about the stove at Killem's, no listening to the looking boy."
somewhat doubtful stories of the group at Cole's And so, on one of Colorado's crisp summer


mornings, Tom came slowly up to the cabin, to
bid Mrs. Griswold good-bye.
But within a few minutes they had arranged par-
ticulars for a correspondence, which Mrs. Gris-
wold suggested, to Tom's delight.
"What should I ever have been without you,
Mrs. Griswold ?" he said, in his earnest way.
"An honest, straight-forward lad, who set his
burdens off on no other shoulders," she answered.
I should have known about as much as Father's
near mule. I don't know anything now," he added,
quickly, "but oh, how I want to !" A pair of
great blue eyes saw untold visions beyond the
rough hills on which they rested.
I had a long talk with your father yesterday
about your future. He thinks he will stop near a
school, next time. He is both fond and proud of
you, Tom, and it wont hurt you a bit to know it."

I hope, ma'am, I '11 deserve it. There they
come. I must help past the forks of the road.
Good-bye! He took her hand reverently, then
bounded out toward the approaching cavalcade.
Half a dozen bewildered cows led off, their
calves frisking beside them. Tom's bare-headed
brothers kept them as near the fenceless track as.
possible. Mr. Owens drove, walking beside the
wagon, whose cover was partly thrown back, reveal-
ing household goods and Samantha loaded pro-
miscuously. A crate of hens cackled at the end
of the wagon, and Mrs. Owens brought up the rear
in checked apron and green sun-bonnet. Nodding
good-bye to the lady in the cottage-door, she
remarked to the quiet man who managed the
mules, "I 'm mighty sorry for Mis' Griswold-
she '11 miss our Tom so. She thought a power of
our Tom, Mis' Griswold did "



WHEN Kitty was only four years old, she used
to go shopping for her mother.
The grocery was at the corner, not far away,
and Kitty's mother would stand in the door-way,

and watch her little girl until she reached the
store. The grocery-man liked to have Kitty
come, but he was a great tease. If Kitty
asked for sugar, he would. try to persuade
her she wanted starch; and, if she wanted
starch, he would insist it must be soap. But
little Kitty would shake her head and stand
by the "sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar,"
which she had been saying to herself ever since
she left home, or to the starch, starch,
starch," until, finally, Mr. Jones would give
her what she wanted. Then he would stand
in his door-way and look after her; for he
really liked the little girl.
One morning her mother said, "Now, Kitty,
I want you to go to Mr. Jones's and tell him to
a give you a nice little spring chicken, dressed."
So Kitty tied on her new bonnet and started
off, saying to herself, "Sp'ing chicky d'essed,
spring chicky d'essed."
"What does my little girl want this morn-
ing? said Mr. Jones, as she came in.
"My mamma say she want sp'ing chicky
Oh, a spring chicken dressed. Well, now,.
Kitty, is n't this a fine one ?"
Here Mr. Jones winked at some big people in
the grocery. You have seen big people wink
when talking to little children, just as Mr. Jones.
did, and have thought it very queer manners.





However, little Kitty did n't see Mr. Jones wink;
and, when he took down a great turkey and
showed her, she only said: "No, no; my mamma
want a sp'ing chicky d'essed."
"Now, Kitty, don't you call this a spring chick-
en ? What a fine fellow he is "
Oh, but he's und'essed. My mamma want a
spring chicky d'essed."
Then Mr. Jones laughed, and all the other
people laughed.
"All right, Kitty, I 'll dress him. See "
Then Mr. Jones took brown paper, and pinned
the turkey up so that only his legs and long neck
stuck out.
"Now, have n't I dressed him nicely ?"

i-- -

her hands together around him, ----the tips of her

clKitty looknched atunder her chin. It was all Kitty could,
remembedo to carry it; buthat sometime was big people know best,

and started bravely up the-street.
Ofshe agreed that he wafirst thing the brown paper did wasMr.
to tear; then put the turkey kept slipp in her arms, and broughtwn;
her hands together around him, the tips of her
fingers scarcely meeting, while the neck was
clinched under her chin. It was all Kitty could
do to carry it; but she was a plucky little girl,
and started bravely up the.street.
Of course, the first thing the brown paper did was
to tear; then the turkeykept slipping down, down;
and the tighter Kitty tried to hold it with her tired
little arms, the more it slipped. Finally, it rolled
to the pavement and shed all its brown paper.

Kitty looked for a moment, and then tried to lift
it; but it was too heavy. Suddenly, a bright
thought came into her head. She took up the


T-Z?. -x,.

turkey's legs, and started again, pulling it after
her on the pavement.
Kitty was delighted with her success, for only
think, when she became tired of pulling, she sat
down on the turkey and rested! And, in this
way, she got him home; but poor turkey he was
almost worn-out!
"Mamma," cried Kitty, panting, as she gave
the turkey a final pull through the door-way,
"there 's your sp'ing chicky, but I lost his d'ess."
Funny Mamma! She sank down on a chair,-

*- 2;

yes, "sank" is the word,-put her
her face, and shook until the tears
her cheeks. Was she really crying,
or what? Kitty did n't know.

hands up to
rolled down
or laughing,






THERE was an old giant named Bugaboo Bill
Resided in England, on top of a hill.
A daring marauder, as strong as a moose,
Who lived on the best that the land could produce.

'i -

ilk? A:

,#as ^ t .ae ". .^. -* --'.-

'" ,k,- .^ *. -i
.---.- .- .;-._
:.4 -'U-. : _i

^ .I - .
&; M %_ .:,; .
~~I ( ga ~ -it

He'd sit hv his castle and gawe on the plain,
ihdI.:. rmf r: .i),: rIe-.r.; nri.l thrashing their
P- -i i r.,

.AI.l ... I .- I,.: l ..,:.:.1 rth ri-.ened crop fall,
"- 'T ,! i-.,:,:. b. b thI : vt.:.i! r,:, ,!,ve them a call."

Anl n .h :1ii,,: th.e l-..,r .:, livy his tax,-
\, .:.. n 1 i ril.- arn:il rh. barley in sacks,
l i ,r a. ii -.,rh.: d, and ready for

'. .:' ': d : L',' i r thlrl down, without

V....i.-l ..,,!,. ,l- i ,red.l. ..1d EP .tgaboo Bill,
A.rnl c a-ir, I !..::l r. Ii hl:.iwi on the hill.

Th- l:ii i h d .:.i .! -l.-i l:e red they would
Ir r,,i
.mi.1 l i !thi l 11 .- -''' .' with weapon in
1.n t .'1
I. -.... l ..:.uld ,n.i :r, th mattocks and

.'I. ri .: -. his march to op-

-- ~-~. --_ --... --


,,* -_
,+ + .. '.

.,_, '.....




.... .- ,- -. _.
E^ 'E~? ^.!."- i '*--.S L-'-^-v ^ r "i.~ ^ ss-~'-'.^e:-r :.-.^11-- *^ 'se t

But when the great giant came down in his might,
A club in his hand neither limber nor light,
They 'd fling away weapons and scatter like deer,
To hide behind. walls, or in woods disappear,
And leave him to carry off barley and rye,
Or pick out the fattest old pig in the sty.

Thus things went on yearly, whatever they might do,
From bad to far worse, as still bolder he grew;
For none could be found who had courage or skill
Sufficient to cope with the rogue on the hill.

At length one remarked, who had studied his race:
"No giant so strong but he has a weak place-
He 'il have some short-coming though ever so tall.
You 've tried many plans, but have failed in them all-
His club is too large and your courage too small.




"Now try a new method-invite him to dine:
Bring forth tempting dishes and flagons of wine,
And let skilled musicians perform soothing airs
To smooth down his temper and banish his cares;
And when he grows drowsy, as surely he will,
We '11 easily manage this Bugaboo Bill."

The plan was -adopted; when next he came down
To take his supplies from the best in the town,
They brought him fat bacon, roast turkey and quail,
With flagons of sherry and beakers of ale;
Good beef in abundance, and fruit that was sweet;
In short, every dish that could tempt him to eat.

Well pleased was the giant to see them so kind,
So frank and forbearing, to pardon inclined;
He helped himself freely to all that was nice-
To poultry, to pastry, and puddings of rice,
To wines that were potent to steal unaware
From limbs that were large all the strength that was there,






While 'round him musicians were ranged in a ring, -
Some turning a crank, and some scraping a string. -

A poet read sonnets composed for the day,
A singer sang ballads, heroic and gay, ( '. .
Until all the air was replete with a sound '' -' "' -
That softened the feelings and enmity drowned.

The task was not easy: for half a day long '
They treated the giant to music and song;
The piper played all the sweet airs that he knew,
The fiddler seemed sawing his fiddle in two; .
The organist worked as though turning a mill,
But still wide awake remained Bugaboo Bill.

At last he grew drowsy, confused was his mind
With feasting and drinking and music combined.
And when he had sunk in a stupid repose,
A monster balloon was brought out by his foes.'

Said one, as the ropes to the giant they tied: '
" We gave him a feast, now we'll give him a ride;
For though by good rights the old robber should die,
His life we '11 not injure, but off let him fly;

"The wind's blowing south by sou'-east, as you see,
So over the channel soon wafted he '11 be;
He 'II make a quick passage, and, if I guess right,
Will take his first lesson in French before night."

Then up he was hoisted by winds that were strong,
By gas that was buoyant, and ropes that were long;
And south by sou'-east, like a sea-bird he flew,
Across the broad channel, and passed from their view.

But whether he landed in France or in Spain,
In Turkey or Russia, or dropped in the main, ,' /
They never discovered, and little they cared -
In what place he alig-hted. or iust how he fared. ..-- --

But though his old castle long stood on the hill,
They had no more visits from Bugaboo Bill.



(A Story of an S. S.



Mr. Robert Baird.
Mrs. Juliet Baird.
Fred Baird, aged fifteen years.
Alexander (called Sandy) Baird, aged thirteen years.
Isabelle Baird, aged seventeen years.
Kitty Baird, aged twelve, cousin of Robert, and of his children.
Special friend of Sandy.
Donald Stuart, aged seventeen, friend of Fred.
Elizabeth Patterson, aged fifty-one, the family friend.
SCENE: First at Cedar Run, a pleasantvillage; tf



ONCE upon a time," said Isabelle Baird, sitting
by the window mending the ruffles of a white
dress, "there was a man who became rich and
famous -"
"That was pleasant," ejaculated her brother
Sandy; "and how did he do it ?"
Sandy was sitting in one of the low windows,
opening on to the porch, and was busy with a fish-
He did nothing," replied Belle; "but he be-
came, as I said, rich and famous."
Had money left to him, I suppose? Sandy said.
"I don't know any easier way of getting rich; the
being famous follows as a matter of course."
He had n't any money left to him," Belle said;
" he came to good fortune by a new way."
"And what was that? "
This question," and Belle elevated her voice,
"was often asked by his fellow-citizens, especially
after he was made mayor, and moved into his new
house. So one day in July, at seventeen minutes
past five," looking at the clock, a deputation waited
upon his mother to ask how it happened. He had
done nothing, and he was a mayor and rich; they
also had done nothing, but they were not mayors,
and they were poor."
"Excellently put," said Sandy; "and what did
his mother say?"
She said she did n't know."
Then they waited for her to tell them all about
"They did," replied Belle, nodding her head;
"and she said that when he was a boy and mended
his fishing-lines, he never left bits of twine on the
dining-room carpet for his sister to pick up."

The Chief. Captain Kidd.
Don Quixote. Lord Leicester.
Robin Hood. Napoleon Bonaparte.
Robinson Crusoe. Pocahontas.
Rob Roy.
A Quakeress. Duke of Wellington.
Blue-beard. Mary, Queen of Scots.
King Arthur. Sir Walter Raleigh.
hen at Greystone, an old mansion on a large river.

Good child," said Sandy, without a blush.
"Is that the road to riches? "
The third inmate of the room was Fred, who was
older than Sandy but younger than Belle, and who
apparently was absorbed in "Ivanhoe," but who
said, in the same stilted tone in which Belle was
His mother then explained that he was a
remarkable baby, and they answered, so were they.
Each one had heard his mother say so."
"Driven to confession at last," resumed Belle,
"Mother Benedicto, for that was her name, re-
vealed the secret. A fairy had blessed him in his
infancy. She had taken from him the power of say-
ing 'Iwish' and 'if.' When he would have sighed
'I wish,' he roared, 'I will'; and when he meant
'If I could,' he said, 'Certainly, at once.' These
brave expressions made every one think him a
person of great determination, and after a time they
believed he did everything he talked of doing. So
he became a leader. He didn't like to lead, but
he could n't help it. When he was asked, he said,
'Certainly, at once,' and so had to keep his word.
Leaders can become rich. That is the story."
"False pretenses," said Sandy. "Now, I am
poor, but I am honest. You don't catch me saying
one thing and meaning another."
"True for you, my son," said Fred; "you call
spades, spades."
I try to," said Sandy, trying to look modest;
"but it is easy to see what Belle means. Papa says
we must go to the sea-shore. I say, I wish' we
could do something different. I suppose Belle
thinks I ought to say 'I will' do something
"No, I don't," Belle replied; "there would be
no use in your saying only that, but you wish and
wish. Why don't you think of something differ-
ent, and propose it? That's what I mean."





Sandy whistled. Then he jumped up and said
to Fred, whose feet were across the door-way,
"Let me by you, Fred."
"That depends on what you pay for me," said
Sandy looked at his brother, stepped over his
legs, and remarked that he did n't think much
of jokes that depended on bad spelling.
"Spelling?" said Fred. "I spelled nothing."
If you did n't, how could you make buy out of
by ? "
"How could I tell which you meant?"
Fred replied. "Your English, Alexander, needs
"I am glad you mentioned that," said Sandy,
"for it reminds me of something I meant to do,"
and he at once left the room.
"If any one were to buy you, Fred, began
Belle, but her father, who entered at that moment,
"BuyFred! And why?"
"For the sake of my English," said Fred.
"You mistake," said his father; "it is in regard
to the English of others that you are strong, but
in your own, you are-shaky."
"If Fred's criticisms were like boomerangs and
came back to him," said Belle, relentlessly, "he-
would n't say the weather was 'elegant' and the
sea-shore 'nice.'"
That is the very thing," Fred answered, hotly.
"We don't notice these things at home, but when,
old Bagsby says, 'Don't mix your plural verbs and
singular nouns, Baird,' and then remarks to that
snob Cadwallader, 'A boy's home education is
detected in his conversation,' I tell you one feels
"We must look to this, children," and Mr.
Baird sat down. "It wont-will not, I mean-do
to allow Fred to feel that his home influences are
against his education."
"Education! repeated Sandy, coming in, carry-
ing a soap-box, a hammer, and some nails; "I am
just going to attend to mine," and he took out of
the closet his school-books, his slate, and a box
of drawing materials, and packed them all
neatly in the box. He then nailed the lid on,
sharpened down a match, and, dipping that in
ink, inscribed on the box this legend :


There, now he exclaimed, his head on one
side, as he looked complacently at his work; "that
is done Now, until school opens, I am a wild

Indian!" and with a whoop he dashed on the
lawn, followed in hot haste by his little dog Dan.
"I don't know anything that would be so per-
fectly charming as being a wild Indian! How
I would like to get up in the morning and have no
plans, and go to bed and never think of duties,
and all that," and here Belle gently sighed, and
looked at her ruffles.
"Life is hard on you," said her father, what
with croquet and white dresses -"
"And back-hair," suggested Fred.
Is it Belle's hair again?" asked Mrs. Baird,
who had just come in.
"It is always my hair," replied Belle; "every
day it is my hair. It is the bane of my existence!"
"It is not the blessing of mine," replied her
mother. "One day it is curls, the next, plaits.
Last week it hung down your back, and this week
it is piled on top of your head."
"This week!" exclaimed Belle. "Mamma, the
puffs you made yesterday were as rough as our
old horse-hair sofa before I got home Now, if I
were a wild Indian, I would never wear puffs."
"The worst of it is," her father remarked,
"that this struggle will last you all your life. You
will never be free from the responsibility of your
hair. If you lose it, you will have to buy more."
"I will go to the woods," cried Belle-"I will! "
And I would go along," said Fred, putting his
book down on the floor by his side. I don't mind
duties and back-hair, but I would like to camp out.
Phil Henderson went to Maine last summer with
his uncle, and they had splendid times. They shot
deer and fished, and the Indians stole nothing but
sugar. It was perfectly splendid "
"A boy's home education-- began Mr.
Of course I did n't mean that it was splendid
because the Indians stole so little, but-oh, you
know what I mean "
I would n't mind the Indians," said Belle, if
we only could camp out. Why can't we, Papa ? "
I cannot afford it."
Not afford it? Why, it is the cheapest thing in
the world! cried Fred. "All we would want would
be a tent and frying-pan."
His father looked at him with serene gravity.
"Very well," he said; "suppose we count it up."
Fred, with great alacrity, at once produced from
his pocket his pencil and an old letter.
"In the first place, we need tents. How many?"
"Two," said Belle; one big one for Papa and
you boys, and one for Mamma and me. Will
Patty go along? "
"No one but Patty can answer that question,"
her mother replied; "but for the sake of fish and
venison cooking, I hope she will."




"Three tents, Fred," said Mr. Baird; "but I
have n't the slightest idea how much they cost."
"Phil gave five dollars for his, but it is too little.
Suppose I say ten dollars apiece? "
So Fred put down:
Tents....................................... $30.0

"We will want rubber blankets and boots."
"For what ? asked Sandy, re-appearing.

"Nonsense!" said Sandy. "Papa, what is it
all about? "
"We are making an estimate so as to see if we
can afford to camp out."
"Of course we can," said Sandy, decidedly.
"We could camp out all summer for what a
month at the sea-shore would cost."
"We wont need any new clothes," said Belle.
"And that will save ever so much. And there's



For our camp," Belle said, in the most matter-
of-fact tones.
"Are we going to camp out?" cried Sandy,
looking at his father. "When? Who is going?"
Listen," said Belle, picking up Fred's book,
dropping her work, and beginning, apparently, to
read: "The Baird family, consisting of Robert
Baird, his wife, Juliet, and his three children, Isa-
belle, Frederick, and Alexander, respectively aged
seventeen, fifteen, and thirteen, accompanied by
their faithful adherent, Elizabeth Patterson, called
Patty for short, sailed one pleasant morning in
the good ship 'I expect to,' under command of
Captain Benedicto, for the port "

the food! We wont buy meat, for we will shoot
deer and catch fish," said Fred.
S" Certainly," replied his father; but we must
have blankets, a stove, and cooking utensils, and
I suppose you would submit to some canned
goods in case of a scarcity of venison and
"A very few," said Fred; "the women folks
might like them."
"And the guides," said Sandy.
One will be enough," said Mr. Baird. How
much shall we set down for him?"
"Two dollars a day," promptly replied Fred.
"That's what Phil paid."




"Put down twenty-eight dollars for a guide.
We can stay but two weeks, anyway."
So Fred added that item.
"The fare comes next."
"Where shall we go ?" asked Sandy.
To Maine," said Fred.
Say fifteen for each. That wont include trans-
portation from the station to the wood; and put
down a contingency fund to cover traveling ex-
penses, rubber blankets, stove, canned goods, and
other items not calculated in."
Fred bit the end of his pencil, gazed on his esti-
mate, and then very slowly said, "I think we had
better-walk "
Sandy looked over his shoulder. The calculation
stood thus:
Tents......................................$ 30.00
Sundries ................ ................. x25.oo
G uide ................... ................. 28.0
Fares .................. ................... 9o.0o
"That 's a stunner! said Sandy.
"Yes," said Fred. "And it seems more
because it is the total for all the family. Gen-
erally each person bears his own expenses. Then
it would n't be heavy."
"Unfortunately," replied his father, "it is not
so divided. One person in this case bears the
whole expense. I make this remark modestly,
but with feeling."
Shave it down, Fred," said Sandy, cheerfully;
"bring it within limits."
"You had better go back to your original
wild-Indian idea," said Mrs. Baird. "The more
civilization you insist upon, the greater your
"True cried Fred. "Let 's strike off the
canned things."
And the guide," said Belle.
"We cannot go to the Maine woods without a
guide," her father replied.
"Don't go to Maine," said Sandy. "There are
lots of good places nearer."
I don't know," said Fred, reflectively. Phil
has so much fun there. Let us count again. The
tents we must keep. Even an Indian has his wig-
"Tents........................... ....... $30.00
No, no," cried Belle, jumping up. "I have
it! Ihaveit!"



WHERE? exclaimed the family, in chorus.
"Not the tent," answered Belle, "but the idea,
the place, the house, the wigwam !

We will go to Greystone! "
No one spoke. This was an inspiration.
"The very place!" said Sandy. "A house, a
river, woods, solitude! "
Gunning and fishing," added Belle.
"But it is not furnished," said Mrs. Baird, "and
we will stay so short a time that it would not be
worth while to move anything. And it must be a
very dirty house."
It is not a house, Mamma," explained Belle,
growing warm as the idea took shape in her mind.
" You must regard it as a wigwam. Then you
will see how easy the furnishing will be."
Greystone has one advantage," said Fred, who
still clung to Maine and his pencil and paper,-" it
only costs twenty-five cents to get there. That
makes a great difference."
"And no guide need apply," added Sandy.
"No rubber blankets," said Belle.
"You will have neighbors," said Mrs. Baird;
"still I do not believe they will trouble you, unless
from curiosity."
"We can be lonely enough, if that is any ob-
ject," said her husband.
Yet I don't know," resumed Mrs. Baird, doubt-
fully; "we must have chairs and tables and beds."
"Not in a wigwam," persisted Belle; "we can
have hay beds."
"Belle is right," her father said. If we decide
to camp out, and select Greystone as the place, we
must not think at all of it as a house."
"Certainly," said Fred. "Now let me tell you.
There are floors and a roof-- "
"I am not so sure of that," said his father; but
we will suppose so for the sake of argument."
Fred resumed:
"We suppose, then, that we are going to a tent.
We will need beds. Good. We can get hay of a
farmer. We can also get milk of him."
And eggs and butter," added Belle.
"We will need blankets, dishes, and a coffee-
pot. We will take these along."
Fred," cried Sandy, I am proud of you "
Mrs. Baird looked at her husband. He smiled,
and Belle, all in a rapture, jumped up and hugged
him around the neck. At that moment, Patty en-
tered. She had the newly ironed collars in a flat
glass dish, for, as she never used the right thing if
any other was handy, she of course ignored the
"What is all this about?" she asked, standing
Belle stood up, resting her hands on her father's
"Patty," she said, "we are going to camp out.
Don't you want to go along ?" .
Where are you going?" she asked.




"To Greystone," replied Sandy.
"To Greystone ?" she repeated. "Your uncle
wont let you "
And then she went upstairs with the collars.

The family looked one at the other. The chances
were that he would not.
He might be glad to hear of the scheme, for it
pleased him to know of any wild scheme in which
his nephew's family was interested. He always
said they would go to ruin; and, although he was
a clergyman, he still liked to be a true prophet.
Perhaps he hoped they would some day take his
advice and live like other people, but as yet he cer-
tainly thought they managed affairs loosely. His
little daughter, Kitty, did not agree with him. She
thought her cousin Robert's family charming, and
all their ways delightful.
He wont let Kitty go," said Sandy.
Belle mournfully shook her head.
"Don't give up so readily, my dear," said Mrs.
Baird, in her usual cheery tones. You have not
asked him yet."
"Yes," said Belle, "there's another trouble.
Who will ask him?"
It was Sandy who flung himself into the breach.
He was very careful to say he did not prefer to do
so, but he was quite sure neither Belle nor Fred
could have any influence over their uncle; it must
not be done by either his father or mother, for fear
they would be too readily rebuffed.
As no one else coveted the task, they yielded at
once to Sandy's good reasons, but advising him not
to tell Kitty about the plan, for fear she would pre-
cipitate matters; and so, the next morning, soon
after breakfast, Sandy set off. Belle encouraged
him by an old shoe, which hit him between the
shoulders and made him jump; but he made no
complaint, and went on his embassy, dressed in a
clean linen suit, and wearing his best hat.
When he returned, some time after, slowly shut-
ting the gate after him, and having a very dejected
appearance, Belle at once declared that their uncle
had consented, but her mother was not so sure.
"Where is Papa?" then asked Sandy, languidly
dropping into an easy chair, his hat still on his
"Gone to the library," said Belle. "My good-
ness, don't be so absurd You look as if you had
been a mile, instead of across the two lawns to
Uncle Peyton's."
"Where 's Fred ?" said Sandy.
"Gone with Papa."
"Only you two at home? Well, it makes no
difference. The bolt must fall! and he pushed
his hat back, and wiped his forehead with Fred's
best silk handkerchief.

You '11 catch it if Fred sees that," said Belle.
"What have you done to get so warm ? And now,
Sandy, you have on Fred's new shoes! You had
better hurry them off, I assure you."
"The shoes ought to be blacked," observed
Sandy, looking thoughtfully first at one foot, and
then at the other. Fred worked them up to an
excellent brightness last night. I wonder if he
would mind doing it again? I am afraid I could n't
satisfy him."
You had better try," replied Belle. "I don't
know why Fred puts up with you. But did you get
the house? "
Sandy felt in his pockets, and then answered,
after also looking up his sleeves, that he hadn't it
about him.
"Don't be such a goose," said Belle. "Did Uncle
Peyton say we could go ? "
I did n't ask him," said Sandy.
That is just like one of you boys Belle ex-
claimed, in despair. You say you will do a thing,
everybody expects you to do it, and then you don't.
I wish I had gone. I would n't come home with-
out doing my errand."
"Did you see your uncle?" interposed their
"Yes, ma'am."
Then why did n't you ask him ?"
I did n't know I was expected to do that. I am
only a boy, you know; and I thought Papa and you
decided we could go. I only asked if we could have
I do think, Alexander Baird,- began Belle,
but at that moment, with yellow hair flying, hat in
hand, with cheeks flushed, and her brown eyes full
of mischief, in dashed a girl of about twelve years
of age.
"You will tell me, Cousin Jule, wont you? she
exclaimed. "I know you will! Papa says there is
no use in my knowing, and Sandy gave me the
slip, and cut through the church-yard. You must
have run all the way," turning to Sandy, for I
tore down the garden and jumped the fence.
Mamma saw me, too, but she wont tell Papa.
Mamma is n't mean. So wont you tell me, Cousin
Jule? I know it must be fun, and you are going
away to some place, and Papa says it is the most
absurd thing he ever heard of, and he thinks Cousin
Robert is crazy at last, and--"
"Did he say we could go, Kitty ?" asked Belle,
thinking that here was a short cut to knowledge.
"I don't know," said Kitty. "Where is it?
Who is going? All of you? Can I go along?
Do say yes, Cousin Jule, and all my dresses are
"But your papa said there was no use in your
knowing," impolitely remarked Sandy.




"Do say I may go, Cousin Jule," repeated Kitty.
"If your father is willing, we shall be glad to
have you, Kitty."
I 'll ask him," and off darted Kitty, willing to
take the pleasure of the expedition on faith, if only
she could be allowed to go.
Then his mother turned to Sandy:
"What did your uncle say ?" she asked.
"Now that, Mamma," he replied, "is a direct
and proper question, and I will at once answer it.
He said-well, in the first place, he was busy sort-
ing papers, sermons, and such things, and so, of
course, would have been glad not to have been in-
terrupted, but of course I did n't know that, so I
walked in, and after I sat down I said I had often
thought of being a minister."
"Sandy, you did not! exclaimed his mother.
"Yes, I did," said Sandy, with gravity and inno-
cence, "for I often have, especially on Sunday in
church, but of course I have always decided against
it. I could n't take the responsibility of a parish,
and I am too serious for any profession. It would
not do to increase my sense of-- "
Don't be so very simple, Sandy," interrupted
Belle. What did Uncle Peyton say? "
He said he was glad I ever thought seriously
of anything, and I told him I had come upon a very
serious errand, and I hoped my youth would be no
Oh, Sandy groaned Belle; I don't wonder
he refused." .
He was interested, anyhow, and he sat down
and put his glasses in their case, and told me to go
on. He thought, I am sure, that Fred had been
turned out of college."
At this, Belle contemptuously curled her lip.
"He always said he would be, ever since Papa
consented that Fred should join the boat-club, so
the very idea put him in a good humor. Then I
asked him,-for you see, Mamma, I thought I had
better be a little diplomatic,-whether they were
going away this summer, and he said they were-
to the Catskills. This brought me nicely to the
subject of camping out, and I think I might have
persuaded him to try it if he had not taken out

his spectacles again and turned to his papers.
So then I at once dropped the general advantages
of camping, and gently unfolded the Greystone
"And what did he say? I declare, Sandy, I
would like to shake you," said Belle, impatiently.
"I wish I had not run from Kitty," responded
Sandy. I might just as well have allowed her
to get here first. The weather is too hot for
active exertion. What did he say? He said much,
very much. At first he just looked at me, and
began to tie up some note-books. Then he said it
was absurd, reckless, unnecessary; we would all
have the rheumatism, and my father was certainly
not aware of the condition of Greystone, or of the
trouble and expense it would be to put it in order.
Then I explained that although it is a house, we
meant to consider it as a tent, and we did n't want
it put in order. Then he began to talk about you,
Mamma, and how wrong it would be to move your
furniture into such a dusty, forlorn place, so I told
him that we did n't expect to have any furniture.
Then he looked over my head and addressed that
Norwegian pine, of which he is so proud, and he
said a good deal about a family living comfortably
in a house where they had grass, trees, and all
they needed, and how this family wanted to
go to a forlorn, dirty, damp old barracks for a
holiday! Then he got up and began to put some
of his papers in a desk, and I suppose he thought I
would leave, but I sat still and counted the books
he has labeled as 'Ecclesiastical History.' He has
two hundred and fifteen, counting each of the
volumes, and one hundred and forty-nine, counting
only the works. After a while he said he would
see Papa, and then I explained to him, as we agreed
last evening, that it was our picnic, and Papa was
to be a guest, and not be bothered with the
arrangements. Then he turned around and looked
over his spectacles at me,-you know how Kitty
hates that,-and said we could do as we pleased.
The house was there. When I suggested that we
wanted to rent it, he asked me if I supposed he
would indorse such a plan by taking money for the
house. So we can go, Mamma, when we please."

(To be continued.)






I- a


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Srl l -in ,i I:-.hrer

^ ': .. u ,.,l ,'I I-h ro
look from the
.f cottage into
the forest, and
even more gloomy than shadows often glowered
from its windows upon the sunny lake. One was
the face of little Ruky Lynn; and the other was
his sister's, when she felt angry or ill-tempered.
They were orphans, Cora and Ruky, living alone
in the cottage with an old uncle. Cora-or "Cor,"
as Ruky called her-was nearly sixteen years old,
but her brother had seen the forest turn yellow only
four times. She was, therefore, almost mother and
sister in one. The little fellow was her companion

night and day. Together they ate and slept, and
-when Cora was not at work in the cottage-
together they rambled in the wood, or floated in
their little skiff upon the lake.
Ruky had dark, bright eyes, and the glossy
blackness of his hair made his cheeks look even
rosier than they were. He had funny ways for a
boy, Cora thought. The quick, bird-like jerks of
his raven-black head, his stately baby gait, and
his habit of pecking at his food, as she called it,
often made his sister laugh. Young as he was, the
little fellow had learned to mount to the top of a
low-branching tree near the cottage, though he
could not always get down alone. Sometimes when,
perched in the thick foliage, he would scream,
"Cor! Cor! Come, help me down!" his sister
would answer, as she ran out laughing, "Yes, little
Crow! I 'm coming."
Perhaps it was because he reminded her of a
crow that Cora often called him her birdie. This
was when she was good-natured and willing to let
him see how much she loved him. But in her
cloudy moments, as the uncle called them, Cora
was another girl. Everything seemed ugly to her,
or out of tune. Even Ruky was a trial; and, in-
stead of giving him a kind word, she would scold
and grumble until he would steal from the cottage
door, and, jumping lightly from the door-step, seek
the shelter of his tree. Once safely perched among
its branches he knew she would finish her work,
forget her ill-humor, and be quite ready, when he
cried "Cor Cor!" to come out laughing, "Yes,
little Crow! I 'm coming! I'm coming!"
No one could help loving Ruky, with his quick,
affectionate ways; and it seemed that Ruky, in
turn, could not help loving every person and thing
around him. He loved his silent old uncle, the
bright lake, the cool forest, and even his little china
cup with red berries painted upon it. But more
than all, Ruky loved his golden-haired sister, and
the great dog, who would plunge into the lake at
the mere pointing of his chubby little finger.
Nep and Ruky often talked together, and though
one used barks and the other words, there was a
perfect understanding between them. Woe to the
straggler that dared to cross Nep's path, and woe
to the bird or rabbit that ventured too near !-those
great teeth snapped at their prey without even the
warning of a growl. But Ruky could safely pull
Nep's ears or his tail, or climb his great shaggy
back, or even snatch away the untasted bone.




'-- !. b [.....l:; 1.1-
e! */ \\" '1 r,, ll'. n i' a: it
e.. .n".',<. I.


Still, as I said before, every one loved the child;
so, of course, Nep was no exception.
One day Ruky's Cor! Cor had sounded oftener
than usual. His rosy face had bent saucily to kiss
Cora's upturned forehead, as she raised her arms to
lift him from the tree; but the sparkle in his dark
eyes had seemed to kindle so much mischief in him
that his sister's patience became fairly exhausted.
Has Cor nothing to do but to wait upon you,"
she cried, "and nothing to listen to but your noise
and your racket? You shall go to bed early to-
day, and then I shall have some peace."

per. This made him cry all the more, and Cora,
feeling in her angry mood that he deserved severe
punishment, threw away his supper and put him
to bed. Then all that could be heard were Ruky's
low sobs and the snappish clicks of Cora's needles,
as she sat knitting, with her back to him.
He could not sleep, for his eyelids were scalded
with tears, and his plaintive Cor, Cor had
reached his sister's ears in vain. She never once
looked up from those gleaming knitting-needles,
nor even gave him his good-night kiss.
It grew late. The uncle did not return. At last


"No, no, Cor. Please let Ruky wait till the
stars come. Ruky wants to see the stars."
"Hush Ruky is bad. He shall have a whip-
ping when Uncle comes back from town."
Nep growled.
"Ha! ha!" laughed Ruky, jerking his head
saucily from side to side; "Nep says 'No !' "
Nep was shut out of the cottage for his pains, and
poor Ruky was undressed, with many a hasty jerk
and pull.
You hurt, Cor! he said, plaintively. I 'm
going to take off my shoes my own self."
"No, you 're not," cried Cor, almost shaking
him; and when he cried she called him naughty,
and said if he did not stop he should have no sup-
VOL. VIII.--4.

Cora, sulky and weary, locked the cottage door,
blew out her candle, and lay down beside her
The poor little fellow tried to win a forgiving
word, but she was too ill-natured to grant it. In
vain he whispered "Cor,-Cor !" He even touched
her hand over and over again with his lips, hoping
she would turn toward him, and, with a loving kiss,
murmur as usual, Good-night, little birdie."
Instead of this, she jerked her arm angrily away,
saying :
Oh, stop your pecking and go to sleep I wish
you were a crow in earnest, and then I should have
some peace."
After this, Ruky was silent. His heart drooped




within him as he wondered what this "peace"
was that his sister wished for so often, and why
he must go away before it could come to her.
Soon, Cora, who had rejoiced in the sudden calm,

"Ruky Ruky! she screamed.
There was a slight stir in the low-growing tree.
"Ruky, darling, come back!"
" Caw, caw! answered a harsh voice from the


heard a strange fluttering. In an instant she saw
by the starlight a dark object wheel once or twice
in the air above her, then dart suddenly through the
open window.
Astonished that Ruky had not either shouted with
delight at the strange visitor, or else clung to her
neck in fear, she turned to see if he had fallen
No wonder that she started up, horror-stricken,
-Ruky was not there i
His empty place was still warm-perhaps he had
slid softly from the bed. With trembling haste
she lighted the candle, and peered in every corner.
The boy was not to be found !
Then those fearful words rang in her ears:
"I wish you were a crow in earnest! "
Cora rushed to the door, and, with straining
gaze, looked out into the still night.

tree. Something black seemed to spin out of it,
and then, in great, sweeping circles, sailed upward,
until finally it settled upon one of the loftiest trees
in the forest.
Caw, caw! it screamed, fiercely.
The girl shuddered, but, with outstretched arms,
cried out:
0 Ruky, if it is you, come back to poor
Caw, caw !" mocked hundreds of voices, as a
shadow like a thunder-cloud rose in the air. It was
an immense flock of crows. She could distinguish
them plainly in the starlight, circling higher and
higher, then lower and lower, until, screaming
" Caw, caw they sailed far off into the night.
Answer me, Ruky she cried.
Nep growled, the forest trees whispered softly
together, and the lake, twinkling with stars, sang a







lullaby as it lifted its weary little waves upon the for its contents, with many an angry cry. One of
shore: there was no other sound. them made no effort to seize the grain. He
It seemed that daylight never would come; but seemed contented to peck at the berries painted
at last the trees turned slowly from black to green, upon its sides, as he hopped joyfully around it
and the lake put out its stars, one by one, and again and again. Nep lay very quiet. Only the
waited for the sunshine, tip of his tail twitched with an eager, wistful mo-
Cora, who had been wandering restlessly in every tion. But Cora sprang joyfully toward the bird.
direction, nowwentweepingintothe cottage. "Poor It is Ruky she cried, striving to catch it.
boy!" she sobbed; he had no supper." Then she Alas the cup lay shattered beneath her hand,
scattered bread-crumbs near the door-way, hoping as, with a taunting caw, caw," the crow joined
that Ruky would come for them; but only a few its fellows and flew away.
timid little songsters hovered about, and, while Next, gunners came. They were looking for
Cora wept, picked up the food daintily, as though other game; but they hated the crows, Cora knew,
it burned their bills. When she reached forth her and she trembled night and day. She could hear
hand, though there were no crows among them, the sharp crack of fowling-pieces in the forest, and
and called "Ruky !" they were frightened away in shuddered whenever Nep, pricking up his ears,
an instant, darted with an angry howl in the direction of the
Next she went to the steep-roofed barn, and, sound. She knew, too, that her uncle had set
bringing out an apronful of grain, scattered it all traps for the crows, and it seemed to her that
around his favorite tree. Before long, to
her great joy, a flock of crows came by.
They spied the grain, and soon were busily
picking it up, with their short, feathered --
bills. One even came near the mound
where she sat. Unable to restrain herself
longer, she fell upon her knees, with an
imploring cry:
"Oh, Ruky! Is this you? "
Instantly the entire flock set up an angry
"caw," and surrounding the crow who was
hopping closer and closer to Cora, hurried
him off until they all looked like mere
specks against the summer sky. ."
Every day, rain or shine, she scattered w.
the grain, trembling with dread lest Nep
should leap among the hungry crows, and 4,
perhaps kill her own birdie first. But Nep
knew better; he never stirred when the
noisy crowd settled around the cottage,
excepting once, when one of them settled
upon his back. Then he started up, wag-
ging his tail, and barked with uproarious
delight. The crow flew off with a fright-
ened caw," and did not venture near
him again.
Poor Cora felt sure that this could be
no other than Ruky. Oh, if she only could
have caught him then! Perhaps with
kisses and prayers she might have won
him back to Ruky's shape; but now the.
chance was lost.
There were none to help her; for the
nearest neighbor dwelt miles away, and "JUST TWO HOURS!"
her uncle had not yet returned.
After a while she remembered the little cup, and the whole world was against the poor birds, plot-
filling it with grain, stood it upon a grassy mound. ting their destruction.
When the crows came, they fought and struggled Time flew by. The leaves seemed to flash into


bright colors and fall off almost in a day. Frost
and snow came. Still the uncle had not returned,
or, if he had, she did not know it. Her brain was
bewildered. She knew not whether she ate or
slept. Only the terrible firing reached her ears,
or that living black cloud came and went with its
ceaseless caw."
At last, during a terrible night of wind and
storm, Cora felt that she must go forth and seek
her poor bird.
Perhaps he is freezing-dying! she cried,
springing frantically from the bed, and casting her
long cloak over her night-dress.
In a moment, she was trudging barefooted
through the snow. It was so deep she could
hardly walk, and the sleet was driving into her
face; still she kept on, though her numbed feet
seemed scarcely to belong to her. All the way she
was praying in her heart, and promising never,
never to be passionate again, if she only could
find her birdie-not Ruky, the boy, but whatever
he might be-she was willing to accept her pun-
ishment. Soon a faint cry reached her ear. With
eager haste, she peered into every fold of the
drifted snow. A black object caught her eye. It
was a poor storm-beaten crow, lying there be-
numbed and stiff.
For Ruky's sake, she folded it closely to her
bosom, and plodded back to the cottage. The
fire cast a rosy light on its glossy wing as she

entered, but the poor thing did not stir. Softly
stroking and warming it, she wrapped the frozen
bird in soft flannel and breathed into its open
mouth. Soon, to her great relief, it revived, and
even swallowed a few grains of wheat.
Cold and weary, she cast herself upon the bed,
still folding the bird to her heart. "It may be
Ruky! It is all I ask," she sobbed. I dare not
pray for more."
Suddenly she felt a peculiar stirring. The crow
seemed to grow larger. Then, in the dim light,
she felt its feathers pressing lightly against her
cheek. Next, something soft and warm wound
itself tenderly about her neck; and she heard a
sweet voice saying:
Don't cry, Cor,-I 'll be good."
She started up. It was, indeed, her own dar-
ling! The starlight shone into the room. Light-
ing her candle, she looked at the clock. It was
just two hours since she had uttered those cruel
words. Sobbing, she asked:
"Have I been asleep, Ruky, dear ?"
I don't know, Cor. Do people cry when
they 're asleep? "
Sometimes, Ruky," clasping him very close.
"Then you have been asleep. But, Cor, please
don't let Uncle whip Ruky."
"No, no, my birdie-I mean, my brother.
Good-night, darling!"


BY T. L. B.

I 'M only my lady's page-
And just for the night of the ball-
To prance on a parlor stage,
And run at her beck and call.

I 'm only my lady's page,
But mark me, my fellows, all,
You '11 be civiler men, I '11 engage,
;: When I pommel you-after the ball!

1 '






N the company, that night, there
were four boys and four girls,
and they were Gay's most partic-
'_ I li ular friends. He would have
1 i liked to invite three other young
people, but eight made a conven-
.i.. ent number-just enough for a
quadrille, with Gay's lady-sister
at the piano; the right number, too, for com-
fortable seating at the table, though a larger
number were seatable by putting in the last leaf;
but then the best table-cloth-the very best-the
snow-drop damask, would not reach by three
inches. Of course, this defect might be managed
by piecing with a fine towel, and setting the tea-
tray over the piecing. But it was better to have
things come out even and comfortable.
After the party had enjoyed the tea, and had
looked at the albums, autographic and photo-
graphic, at the stereoscopic pictures, and at Gay's
collection of coins and of postage-stamps, and at his
lady-sister's collection of sea-weeds, some inspired
boy proposed games.
Everybody said: "Oh! Yes! Let's!" and
each proposed a separate game.
"Simon says wig-wag was selected.
The lady-sister volunteered her services as
There was great merriment. The frequent lapses
among the players created a stream of forfeits. In
fifteen minutes, every boy's pocket was emptied of
knife, purse, pencil, rubber, and anything else avail-
able for a pawn, and not one of the girls had a
handkerchief left, or a bracelet, or ring, or flower,
or a removable ribbon. All such articles were
piled on the sofa beside the tyrannical Simon, as
penalties paid for inattention to his orders.
"Now, we '11 redeem the pawns," said Simon,
perceiving that the interest in wagging and thumbs-
down was waning.
John Dabney was selected as master of cere-
monies, the lady-sister acted as blind judge, and
the redeeming of forfeits began.
"Heavy! Heavy! Heavy! What hangs over
you ?" John cried, with ponderous tone, as he held
over the lady-sister's head a handkerchief of cob-
webby lace, that swayed in the window-breeze as it
in refutation of his tone and words.
Fine, or superfine? asked the judge, through
the handkerchief over her face.
"Fine," answered John, with confidence.

"Oh, you must say it 's superfine, if it 's a
girl's pawn," somebody said.
"Oh, yes I understand now," said John. "It's
superfine. What shall the owner do?"
"Act the dumb servant," ordered the judge.
"Go along, Sarah; it 's yours," was the call.
Sarah Ketchum can't act the dumb servant;
she can't keep from r ii.', long enough. And,
besides, she can't act the servant, she 's so used to
making servants of other folks. Give her the talk-
ing mistress to act, and she '11 do that as if she was
born to it."
It was Hal who was flinging out all these jokes
at Sarah Ketchum's expense. He and Sarah were
always sparring.
Sarah shows that she can be dumb and humble
by not replying to your chaffing," Maggie said, as
the elected actor took position and faced the
How do you wash dishes? John asked of the
dumb servant.
"By proxy," Hal volunteered.
Sarah reached a vase from the mantel.
"One of her dishes," commented the audience,
"and the pansy lamp-mat is the dish-cloth."
The dumb actor dipped the mat into a card-
receiver, and made believe to wash the vase, a
volume of Whittier's poems, and a paper-weight.
When the washing was ended, Maggie threw out
a criticism:
She leaves her dish-cloth in the greasy water,
and does n't empty the dish-pan."
How do you dress a chicken?" the dumb serv-
ant was asked.
Sarah looked about, seeking materials for an
object-lesson. She caught sight of a stuffed owl.
Like a masterful eagle, she possessed herself of it.
Then she darted out of the room, presently return-
ing with a doll-trunk. From this, she produced
pantalets for the owl's legs, a ruff for its neck, a
hat for its head, and soon it stood in full dress and
spectacles, looking so wise and so funny that the
children laughed heartily.
"How do you take care of the baby?" John
asked the dumb servant, interrupting the laugh-
ing comments on Master Owl's appearance as a
"dressed chicken."
The dumb servant walked over to her traditional
enemy Hal, who, fortunately, had a plump, round
face, quite in keeping with the character of baby.
He occupied a rocking-chair. Sarah laid his head





against the chair-back, and began singing in panto-
mime, "Hush, my dear; lie still and slumber 1" in
the meantime rocking him so violently that the baby
clutched the chair's arms in terror. Then, quite in
character with the traditional nurse, she seized a
large flower-vase and pretended to pour some drug
into his mouth, in a way that made him gag and
sneeze, and contort his face.
No need to give him sleeping-drops," some one
commented; "he 's one of the famous seven,
Hal, instead of sleeping on his soothing-syrup, sat
up straight as a crock, stretched his eyes wide open,
and showed unusual animation. Whereupon the
dumb nurse administered such fresh rocking and
shakings as must have revenged her for many an
attack she had received from Hal.
The master of ceremonies rescued the baby from
further infliction, by waving a wand, in other words,
a lead-pencil, and pronouncing the spell of silence
removed from Sarah.
"Fine, or superfine?" demanded the blind
justice, when assured that something hung over
"Fine, only. What shall the owner do to
redeem it ?"
Put one hand where the other can't touch it,"
the judge pronounced.
Hal's It's Hal's !" the young people cried,
in joyful excitement.
Hal stood up, facing the company, the imperson-
ation of smiles.
Now, go ahead. Do it," said Alfred.
Hal launched out on the sea of experimenting, by
placing the right hand on the right shoulder.
Oh said Alfred. Of course you can touch
that hand with the left," and Hal immediately
demonstrated that he could do this.
Then the right hand went between his shoulder-
blades, but was presently met by the left. Then
under the right knee was tried, but this, too, as
well as the left, turned out to be accessible to both
Hal thinks that his right arm is longer than his
left, and can outreach it," said Sarah Ketchum.
Maggie, who had been trying to solve the puzzle,
Snow expressed the opinion that the thing could n't
be done.
So said one and another.
I '11 tell you, Hal, how you might do it," said
Alfred. "If you could get one hand in your
mouth, then you 'd have it where the other
could n't touch it."
But Hal, unheeding Alfred's fun, kept on twisting
and screwing, finding out much more about his
joints and the movements of muscles and the rela-
tions of parts than he had remarked in years before.

Suddenly, he cried out, "There I 've got it!"
His right hand was on the left elbow, and his left
hand was straining to reach the right. Instantly
everybody's right hand was put on the left elbow,
testing Hal's solution.
"That'sit!" He's done it!" Hurrah for
Hal! "
Hal went to his seat, flushed with exercise and
triumph, and the play proceeded.
"What shall the owner do?" John demanded,
concerning another pawn.
"Measure on the wall the height of a stove-pipe
hat from the floor. Failing to come within an inch
of the height, the owner must leave the room, and
come back with more arms than two."
"That's easy enough," said the sentenced, who
was no less a personage than Sarah Ketchum.
She made a mark on the wall, as her estimate of
the hat's height. It was nearly nine inches from
the floor.
Oh, it is n't that high," said Alfred, laughing
Then the others said, No!" "Yes!" "~No,
it is n't Yes, it is etc.
"Bring the stove-pipe," said Sarah. "I'm sure
I 'm within an inch of being right."
But when the hat was set on the floor, there were
several exclamations of surprise.
Sarah had failed, and the conditional sentence
was repeated.
"Leave the room, and return with more arms
than two."
When she had gone, all fell to wondering how
she would do this. Some thought she might come
back carrying a statuette; some said it would be
a doll, if she could find one; others were sure she
would wheel in an arm-chair. But their surmises
were speeedily ended, as Sarah's re-entrance was
greeted with laughter and cheers. Over one shoul-
der she carried a gun and a broom; in one hand
was a revolver, while in her belt gleamed two
Alfred was the next one called out. He was re-
quired to place a yard of wrapping-cord upon the
floor in such a manner that two persons standing on
it would not be able to touch each other with their
It was a sight to see those girls and boys manip-
ulate that string. They laid it straight, they laid
it zigzag, they curved it, they did it into a circle.
Finally, they owned themselves beaten. Then
Gay's lady-sister opened the door, laid the string
across the sill, stationing Hal on one end of the
cord and Sarah Ketchum on the other; she closed
the door between them, turned the key in the lock,
and said, loud enough for both to hear:
"Now, shake hands, good friends !"




Then everybody saw that it was "just as easy
as anything."
The next penalty, Fred Groots was to pay. He
was to put a question the answer to which would be
always wrong. This was a great puzzler. All early
gave it up, and called imperatively on the judge to
explain. She replied:
"What does W R O N G spell? "
"How easy "What stupids we were "
Place that silver vase on the floor so that one
cannot step over it," was the judge's next order.
It was Gay's pawn that this was to redeem.
"Well, there! said Gay, setting the vase in
the center of the room.
But one can step over that," was claimed.
No; one can't," Gay replied, with confidence.
Why, what nonsense said the boys, gather-
ing about the vase, and striding over it, back and
There !" Can't we ? they demanded.
"Yes," Gay admitted, but added, with a superior
air: You can; but I know one who can't; one
Muscovy duck, and also one mosquito."

Then the judge, not satisfied with Gay's solution,
put the vase close up in a corner, and said:
"Now, let us see you step over it."
They saw then that they could n't.
The next requisition was upon Maggie. She was
to put Gay through into the adjoining room, without
opening the door, and without leaving the room.
Why," said Gay," she could n't put me in there
if she had all the improved war projectiles, that is,
if I did n't want to go."
"Oh! that's the way," said one of the girls,
"she's to put you in there by moral suasion.
You '11 go through the front door and come around."
"That's not the way," said the judge. I '11
state the sentence in another form. Maggie is to
put Gay through the key-hole."
"I know," said Maggie, bubbling with eager-
ness. "Give me a pencil. I'll write 'Gay' on a
slip of paper, and put it through the key-hole."
The last sentenced was Clara. She was to push
the baby-carriage, which was standing in the next
room, through her bracelet.
How do you think she did it?


Sou all have noticed,
--- on some spring day,
a bird picking up
.- "' twigs or straws with
-I-i.-, which to build its
-.''nest, and if you ever
have seen the tiny
: "home when finished,
you must have won-

:Co.mpleteness. For the
n-ests of even our com-
-T-'. i-onest birds are often
I ? vels of skillful workman-
S |1, H1 I1 )..P.
But it happens that, within the last
year, ST. NICHOLAS has received accounts of some
unusually interesting nests; real curiosities or acci-
dents in nest-building, such as you would hardly
find by searching whole acres of meadow and
orchard. Some of these oddities are peculiar or re-
markable in themselves, and others are merely
common nests, but have been found in very queer
places. You shall have the descriptions of them
just as they came to us in the letters of cor-

respondents, with accurate pictures, which ST.
NICHOLAS has had made from photographs of the
real objects.
Here, to begin with, is an account by D. B.,
of a nest in a scarecrow; and on the next page is
a picture of it, just'as it appeared when discovered:

"In a grain-field near Hempstead, L. I., I found
an old coat and a hat set up as a scarecrow, the
sleeves being stretched out on a crosswise stick.
However dreadful this may have seemed to the
person who set it up, the little creatures it was
meant to frighten away were not in the least scared
by it; for in one of the side pockets of the coat, a
pair of cedar-birds had built a cozy nest. When I
saw the scarecrow, the little home was filled with
unfledged birds, cheeping and crying, their crests
raised, while the mother, perched on a small
branch which stuck out above the scarecrow's hat,
was gently twittering good-byes to her noisy brood,
before going to forage for their breakfast."

Strange place that for a bird's-nest! And yet not
so strange, nor dangerous, if the bird was small,
and Mr. Scarecrow did his duty well by fright-




ening the hawks and other winged enemies away. dressed up in most artistic fashion with a suit of
Perhaps the little parents "builded better than they John's old clothes,-trousers, vest, and coat, topped
knew"; but it may be they had found out in out with an old hat, which soon blew away,-
formed this awful
S.. -- scare. And funny
S -- -_ enough it was to
S- -. see a pair of little


ii A,

pewees making its
acquaintance; look-
ing up its legs of
sticks, and looking
down upon it from
the apple-trees;
picking at the rags
streaming from its
onnt-t-;lc indrl thin

S .-



some strange way that the ugly looking gentleman
standing always in that one place in the field was
no enemy, and would even protect them. At any
rate, this does not seem to be the first instance of a
bird's-nest in a scarecrow, for in the same letter
D. B. sends this record of another :

When telling about this strange discovery to
some friends, one of them recalled a similar inci-
dent which he had once read about, and after
searching some time, among old papers, we finally
found the account in a number of Our Young Folks.
Here it is :
It was in the bosom of a stuffed effigy, which
had been set up to scare away the crows from our
corn. A bunch of pea-sticks and a little hay,

'" '- ;- --- perching most au-
daciously upon its
wide shoulders;
.,r, i. r iii. I 1, :1 I ts heart of clover, and
i.,ll . i I.: .! !!,- Ii. .IIt ..f the stump of its old

** h ii .. ir.rt r.. .:1i. was hard to tell for sev-
i-il i.li l:.Ir ';I.I ri.:!e was no longer any
I..[.t.- r-.. .:r. .. 1...l. ii;.. a nest in its bosom !
).IL !.!..t. Til: '... clothes had been well
.I.. ,[l I[.: !. .-i-. rh.: i ty was as sweet as any
:.r!i.:i I ..l ili.: 1, -i. -1.h just the sam e as any
hI ,:.! -.... i : Ir. -.i..--. fhe thing was well fast-
.-ri.l [.. r l .-..:.-.,.-l I.. at- feet, which were only
rtl. .i.-i: ..t i-.l- pi.in i..l I ea-sticks. Those the
I C,: ,:.: ..l.1 :..: i= ..! i ., we, or any other wees,
-. 1 :.,- ,, : 1.. ,_sted,-and the crows
,:!. t..ri, iii '.il .:f iI, as somebody else sug-
-r.l. i. ik.h-i i -.:: !.. the wise little birds.
a:-. .- i!.. "hi. .I.L -ne (or rather undone,
-.1 ih.: ii:. : -: *, :.!' I-,.i,-. consisted m ore in pull-
-_ ..t ri i-'tui". 'I *:.ui -carecrow and making a
I...ii irl..: I. i.r !i-! i.iitr!-l; sticks together as most
po.ces do), and wlin thi hole was well lined with
the soft little nothings which the pewees find, we
hardly know where, and the little brown hen set-
tled herself down into her hiding-place, and pater-
familias sat upon the headless pea-brush neck, and
caroled forth his song of triumph to his mate and
his note of defiance to all crows that might dare to
scale his castle-walls, and the rags of the sleeves
fluttered merrily in the breeze, we doubted whether
that suit of clothes was ever happier than it was
then; and John doubted, too.
"The nest was carefully observed from a dis-
tance, for no birds like to be scrutinized too closely;
and, in due course of time, a family of little pe-
wees were taking their first lessons in flying. Some
of them tried to fly too soon, and then came one
of the funniest incidents of all. Our little ones
were quite distressed that the poor little birds



should be dispersed upon the ground, from which
they were unable to rise, and so Charlie caught
them all and tried to put them back into the nest,
but he could not reach it; so, what must he do,
but stow them all carefully away into one of the
side-pockets of the old coat, into which he had
first stuffed some hay, to keep the pocket open;
and how delighted were he and his sisters to see
the old birds come there and feed the young and
care for them several days, until their wings were
more fully grown, and they were able once more,
and with better success, to take a start into the
world! "

But now hear this wonderful little story, from
S. G. T., of how a bird-pair seemed actually to
read,-for how could they possibly have chosen bet-
ter words for a motto for their little home than the
two which were found upon it?
In a certain country place, not very far from
the city of New York, there was once an enter-
tainment, and handbills were distributed freely in
the neighborhood; so that a great many soon lay
about on the ground, and were blown by the wind
into all sorts of places.
O ne ..fr ..: .-:li.: f
attra. t h..- .. .. ,
the r ..:- .

.WIi .

grar ms.- a '

'O iur I '?:i t "- : li
thes-- E-.. ..c..h i d ;
cour- r.rintd .n : .'
the 1i ribill.

enteriao.m-lr ia N,: ",.:.rk ',
cam e to th, ra- i t i -thl .:h.a -. n
try i.1.,c,:. F.,--,_-d-,,, t!-, b h I:..:, .:,
th e I:.i : tl jr, r,_-. 'th h H-I l
exci._j :.i'. ll -l ... Jd .:\dl n- .

found!' and h, I,,.M u!, t.-: brd'--r, ,r
shove, rn ii rti,- Jrur,.
"Now, the little boy was a real lover of

birds, so his mother knew he would not have taken
the nest from its place if it had not been deserted.
And when she looked at it closely, she saw that
the little builders had
woven in among the
twigs and straw a piece
of one of the old hand-
bills; and this piece act-
ually bore the words,
'Our Darlings'! That ,
was why the boy was ex- /
cited about the nest,
and, indeed, everybody -
thinks it so pretty and '
curious a thing, that it
is kept with great care,
and looked upon as a

The picture shows you
the nest exactly as it was
when found by the boy,
with the sweet little
dedication woven into
its side. Surely those
birdlings must have had THE NEST SUPPORTED BY
a happy home A THREAD
And now you shall hear of the wonderful
ingenuity which a bird showed in keeping its
house from falling. What architect could have
done better? Read this, from H. E. D., of Spice-
land, Indiana:
"This curious little nest, I think, was built by
an orchard oriole, but I cannot say certainly, as
the owner had left it before I found it.
"It is made of the long bast fiber from various
plants, white cotton lapping-twine, long horse-hairs
and sewing-thread. The bast fibers form the
larger part of the nest, the twine being interwoven
with it in a way that strengthens the fabric.
Around several twigs there are loops of twine, the
ends having been carried down and woven into the
walls of the nest.
It was built in the top of a small swamp-maple
that stood near a dwelling. The nest was placed
between a small twig and the main stem; the
loops of twine, before referred to, fastened it to
some twigs higher up. Two sides of the nest were
sewed to the branchlets, the fiber, twine and hair
passing over the branch and through the edge of
the nest, in stitches close together.
"But the strangest and most curious part in its
construction is this : The twigs, to which it is sewed,
diverge from each other and leave a space so broad
that without additional support that side of the
nest would have sagged. To meet this difficulty,
the bird has taken a piece of No. 8 sewing-thread





and firmly woven one end of it into the body of the
nest, while the other end she has carried to a pro-
jecting twig, some distance above, and there secured
it by winding it five times around the stem and then
tying it with a perfect single knot!
The picture gives a good view of the side of
the nest to which the thread-support is fastened,
and the thread itself tied to the upper twig."
This incident of H. E. D.'s shows plainly enough

that birds know how to benefit themselves in nest-
building by using articles manufactured by man, in
place of the poor substitutes which the woods and
fields afford them. And, as another proof of this, a
letter and picture given in ST. NICHOLAS of last
year, but which will be fresh to our new subscribers,
are reprinted here:

"One day, not long ago, I washed a num-
ber of pieces of very fine lace, and left them spread
out on the lawn. Presently, I went to look at them,
so as to be sure they were all right, for they were
One, two, three pieces were gone !
Yet there were no fresh tracks on the lawn and
paths, and, when I asked in the house, I was told
that no one there had been near the lace, or seen
anybody else near it, during the whole morning.

"This was puzzling, as well as disagreeable;
and so I went to look again.
Another piece vanished!
"Then I put a chair near the porch, and sat
down and sewed, watching the lace carefully. But
once I bent my eyes to my work for about half a
minute, and when I looked up again,-
Still another treasure was gone !
This time I knew that no one but myself could
have been near the lace. How, then,
could it have disappeared ? I put
away my sewing, and for five minutes
steadily gazed at the pieces left.
Somebody in the house called out,
and I glanced around. As I turned
my eyes forward again, what should I
see, sailing away in the air, a few yards
from me, but a piece of the precious
S lace, trailing from the beak of a robin!
"I soon found that it was the same
saucy fellow who had taken all the
pieces, and that he had tried to make
his little home beautiful with them.
"The lace was spoiled when we found
it, for Robin had torn it when weaving
it in with twigs; but the nest looked
so pretty that I let my ruined treasures
stay.-Yours truly, MARGARET H."

S... The picture shows just how Robin's
nest looked, and it certainly was a
beautiful home for him.
.. Last of all, here is an anecdote
showing that birds not only know
enough to help themselves by such
material as thread, twine, lace, wool,
etc., but that they are even so wise
as to select goods of the proper color.
C. S. B., of Parkesburg, Pa., writes:
"Last summer, just when the trees were at the
greenest, an oriole and his mate came to our yard
and began to built their nest in a drooping bough
of the old sycamore, where the foliage was very
thick. Both birds went busily to work to find
materials for a nest, and soon they began to exam-
ine whatever household articles were left within
safe distance from the house. They would pull
and pucker the linens and lace that were spread
on the lawn, and at last, to stop their mischief, we
concluded to furnish all the material they needed,
ready for use. So we got together some thread
and strings, and a variety of other scraps, rags of
various colors, some red and gray yarn, etc., and
spread them about here and there, wherever we
thought they would be just in the way of the little
builders. We had not long to wait, and they soon
accepted a good portion of what we had laid out





for them. But after awhile we noticed that only
the gray or dull-colored things were taken. The
red was a puzzle; they evidently admired it, but
decided, at last, that it would hardly do; for their
acts plainly said It is pretty, very pretty, but
then, it's so gay We 're afraid it would make
too much show.'
"At last the nest was finished, and when lined and

complete, it was beautiful indeed, and worthy of all
the care they had bestowed upon it. The skill of
the tailor and weaver was shown in its sides, and
the colors were chosen with great care. But not
one thread of crimson was found in it. Cozy as it
was, all its tints were dull and subdued, and an
enemy would have had to look long to discover
it among the thick foliage."



.:- -..--. t-




"OH, Mamma, Mamma, it's half-past eight!
Where are my rubbers? I shall be late;
And where is my pencil? I know just where
I laid it down, but it is not there;
Oh, here is my bag with my books all right-
I 'm glad that my lessons were learned last night;
And now I 'm off-here 's a kiss-good-bye,"-
And out of the door I see her fly.

I stand at the window and watch her go,
Swinging her school-bag to and fro;
And I think of a little girl I knew,
A long way back, when my years were few;
And the old red house beneath the hill,
Where she went to school, I see it still,
And I make for the child a little moan,
For her face, through the mist, is like my own.

The hours go by, it is half-past two,
And here comes Nell with her school-mate Sue;
They had their lessons, they both were "five,"
There are no happier girls alive.
They laugh and shout, and to and fro
Through every room in the house they go;
The music-teacher will come at four,
But they can play for an hour and more.

It is evening now, and, with look sedate,
Our little maid with her book and slate
Comes into the room. We chatter and read,
But she to be "perfect must work indeed.
No need to be talking in days like these
Of the early birds," and the "busy bees":
There is work enough, and (don't you tell!)
There 's quite too much for girls like Nell.







"I DON'T care I'll never speak to you again
as long as I live, Nell Bayley. So there "
Now, when a little girl says she don't care," in
just that tone, and with just that face, it is pretty
certain that she does care, and that very much
indeed. Avis Sinclair was no exception to this
rule. Her fair, round face was flushed with anger,
her blue eyes sparkled unpleasantly, her forehead
was wrinkled in tiny furrows, and alas! her rosy
mouth was rapidly taking on that mocking pout
which, Charles Dickens says, children call
making a,face."
Nell Bayley swung her satchel of books up
into the air, and caught it, lightly.
"Nonsense! she said, with a toss of her nut-
brown hair. "I know your 'never speaks,' Avy.
To-morrow morning you '11 've forgotten all about
it, and come just as usual to me to see 'f I 've got
all my examples."
"Never! No, ma'am, not ever again will I
speak to you! Not about examples nor anything.
Going and having secrets away from me "
And indignant Avis marched off up the street,
feeling as lonely as if these dreadful threats had
not been reiterated every few weeks, all that part
of her short life during which she and Nellie had
been friends.
Mrs. Sinclair, looking up from her sewing, as
the child came into the parlor with downcast air
and lagging step, smiled and said, gently:
Well, dear, what has Nellie been doing now ?"
"Don't laugh, Mamma! She kas been mean.
They've all been mean-all the girls. They're
all horrid together, and I despise them !"
"Avis!" The little girl knelt down by her
mother's side and laid her head in her lap.
"Mamma," she said, "may I tell you all about.
it? It 's quite a long story, but I have been so
miserable all day."
Yes, tell the whole story, Avis. This is worse
than an ordinary quarrel with Nellie, I am afraid."
Oh, it's a great deal worse, and I have n't done
anything at all now, really. You see," Avis con-
tinued, raising her head, when I went into
school, this morning, all the arithmetic class were
in Miss Bell's recitation-room, where we always go,
you know; and I went in, too, of course. There
they all were by the window, giggling and whis-
pering, and when they saw me-did n't they stop
and all look confused, you know, and ashamed!
And I heard some one say, 'Here she comes,

now!' Honest, Mamma! I think it was Letty
Davis. And that shows they were talking about
me; now, does n't it? "
Well, was there anything else ?"
Oh, yes 'm. They smoothed it over then, and
began to talk, and I did n't say anything, because
they all say I do get mad so easy. But all day
long, Nellie and Agnes Hoyt have been writing
notes, and Nell would hide 'em under her books,
just as if she was afraid I 'd see 'em. When I
wanted her to walk at recess, she could n't-she
'had to speak to Agnes.' And they went into the
recitation-room together, and all the other girls
kept whispering and laughing. Why, Mamma,
it was dreadful "
"Did n't you ask Nellie what it all meant? "
"Yes'm, I did. Oh, of course! And she
said, 'You'll find out all in good time, Avis.'
Oh, so patronizing! And then "
And then you said she need not tell you, and
that you never were going to speak to her again ? "
"Why, yes." Avis hung her head for a
moment. "But, now, was n't it mean, Mother ? "
Don't let us judge just yet, dear. There must
be some reason for the girls' strange conduct,
which you will 'know in good time.' Meanwhile,
Avis, I would not pay attention to their secrets, but
give them a few days to explain themselves."
It was much the wisest course to pursue, as Avis
felt obliged to acknowledge; and, like a sensible
girl, as she was in the main, she followed her
mother's counsel so far as to be overwhelmingly
polite and attentive to each and every "horrid"
offender the next day.
She gave Nellie's hand an affectionate squeeze
when she came in, and this her seat-mate returned
in a matter-of-fact manner, the ceremony being
part of the "making-up" after every disagreement.
The girls were on their guard, she thought, but
she saw much consultation in the hall-ways, caught
fragments of conversation during recess, and heard
stray mutterings and whisperings during the but-
toning of cloaks and tying of veils.
To be the only girl left out was a new and bitter
experience. Avis had been leader in every plan
ever since she was a little thing in pinafores. Nellie
hitherto had been contented to follow. But now
I am not wanted," Avis said, bitterly, to herself,
as she sat in her seat alone, and watched Nellie
and Agnes Hoyt walking up and down, with heads
close together and arms affectionately entwined.




Avis was always jealous of Agnes. The mean
feeling she had been ashamed to confess, even to
herself. But this preference of Nellie's had fanned
it into a hot and angry flame.
"Agnes has enough," she thought, remembering
the stately house opposite her mother's cottage,
and the ponies behind which Agnes drove to
school. "I 'm sure, if I wore ear-rings and an
overskirt, I should n't try to coax other people's
friends away. No, indeed!"
"Ting-a-ling-a-ling !" went the bell from the
desk; and the girls hurried to their seats.
"Oh, dear! I don't half know my French,"
Agnes muttered, as she rummaged in her desk.

-- -. t J i t
' r, I_ ,irr 'r t0 IiSl' (S

s r !'5" i.:. il',' rn-r ..-l ,," '. "Il ; I ", ;rh
other people's friends," thought Avis,
folding her exercise, meanwhile, with an expression
of virtuous knowledge.
Avis had not quarreled with the girls; her man-
ner was very lady-like and polite, but frosty,-oh,
extremely cool! Even Nellie felt that.
I am sorry to write it, but now Avis really felt a
little thrill of satisfaction at the thought of Agnes's
half-learned lesson. You see, Agnes stood the
best chance for the French prize, and Avis was but
two marks below her. There was one disadvan-
tage Agnes labored under, and it came near to
lessening the distance between the two little girls
to-day. She was quite deaf from a bad cold.
This, Professor Vernier did not know.

Past indefinite of avoir, Miss Hoyt," he said,
balancing his ruler.
"J'eus, tu es- began Agnes; but the
words were not fairly out of her ii...i..,d, when
" Miss Sinclair !" came sharply from the teacher.
Avis saw the start of surprise and the reddening
cheeks. She knew Agnes was being unfairly
treated, but she recited the proper tense, with her
head thrown back and eyes looking at nothing.
"Let her tell him she didn't hear distinctly,"
she thought. It is n't my place to help her out.
No, indeed!" But she felt very uncomfortable.
You have dropped your handkerchief, Miss
Sinclair," Professor Vernier said, as the girls filed
slowly out of the room. Avis turned to take it,

ye one another's burdens."

folded in the little red spots, made when she had
A." I

sharpened her finger instead of her pencil; and
Od II.

then sheavy opened her lips and-shut them again thought
camWell, Miss Sinher of lairst Sunday night, by the Professor, inth-
glow, and Mamma reading something about "Bear

and" Oh, please !" begged over the ink-stains in one corner, andeks

an inquiring tone.
"Oh, please begged Avis, with scarlet cheeks
and trembling lips. "Oh, let me tell you some-
thing. Agnes has a cold, an awful cold, and she




I ..


can't hear very well. She knows all that review;
she did n't understand your question."
"But why did not she tell me so?" was the
natural inquiry. Avis looked more scared than ever.
She was afraid," she whispered; "we-we all
are-at least "
"Afraid of me? Oh, nonsense! That is only
because I am strange to you, as yet. There, that
will do. You are a brave girl, my dear."
And, with a soothing pat on the shoulder, the
old man ushered Avis into the long school-room.
When Agnes gave in her marks at night, accord-
ing to custom, the principal smiled and nodded.
Your mistake has been explained, Miss Agnes,"
he said. "You must not let it pass again."
Oh, Avis Did you tell ?" she asked, delight-
edly, having caught a glimpse of the interview.
"Oh, I am so much obliged to you! Don't you
want me to teach you how to make feather-braid?"
"Yes, ever so much," said Avis, pleased with
herself, as was natural. May I come over, right
after tea, to-night ?"
Oh, not to-night, please," and Agnes blushed
uncomfortably. "Would n't some other time-- "
It's of no consequence," said Avis, with a lofty
toss of the head. One does n't feel comfortable at
having one's invitations slighted, particularly when
one invites oneself.
Oh, please, Avis-- "
Agnes tried to make a weak apology, but Avis
only shrugged her shoulders and walked away,
with a heavier heart than a little girl often carries.

It's worse and worse, Mamma," she said, after
having told her all about Agnes's misfortune and
her own temptation. I asked Nellie if she would
come up and do her examples with me to-night,
and she said 'No, indeed!' and looked at Letty
Davis, and laughed. And to think I should just be
told that I was n't wanted over at Mrs. Hoyt's "
"Why, Avis," said Mrs. Sinclair, laughing, in
spite of herself, at the scornful, haughty toss of the
head. "I know some one who does want you," she
added. "You are to go to Aunt Caroline's to tea."
This was nothing very new. Aunt Caroline was
old, and alone, and often wanted her small niece
to come and drink tea with her. Still, it was a
little excitement, and Avis ran away, at five o'clock,
with her mother's kiss upon her lips, and her
mother's words, Be home early," in her ears.
At seven o'clock, Avis danced up the front steps,
feeling quite happy and contented after the quiet
talk with Aunt Caroline, and the weak tea and
unlimited toast. "How bright the house looks,"
she thought, as she threw open the door, and then
she paused, amazed, on the threshold.
The parlor was full of girls and boys in holiday
attire. The dining-room table was covered with
baskets, and Mamma was going upstairs with her
arms full of wraps.
"Here she comes, now!" said Letty Davis, as
once before in this history, and Nell Bayley fell on
Avis's neck, exclaiming: "Oh, you dear old Avis!
And you never once suspected, and we 've gone
and given you a surprise-party!"



MR. and Mrs. Theophilus Chilly
Went out one day
With their daughter May,
Their son John Thomas, their grandson Willy,
And their old black cook, whom they called
Aunt Dilly.

They went-all six of them-out together;
" We'll have to-morrow a change in the weather-
It's going to snow," said Mrs. Chilly.
" I told you so," grunted old Aunt Dilly.
" Then we '11 go out this very day
And buy a new stove-that's what I say-
Keep the house warm in spite of the storm"-
Said excellent Mr. Theophilus Chilly.
" Come, wife; come, Dilly; come, grandson Willy;

Go call John Thomas, and hurry May,
I must hear what each one has to say.
This choosing and buying is terribly trying,-
We 'll go together, and that's the best way."

So out they went, with this intent.
Plenty of time and money were spent,
Every one had something to say:
" Get a graceful shape," said pretty Miss May;
" Get a stove to roast apples," cried little Willy;
" And to bile the kittle," said old Aunt Dilly;
" It must be very large," added Father and Mother;
" With doors in front !" exclaimed May's brother.
So the stove was bought,
And, when home it was brought,
" It 's a perfect beauty !" said each to the other.




Well, the fire was kindled, and how it blazed
And roared and sparkled They stood amazed.
" I-feel-quite-warnm!" gasped Mrs. Chilly,
Looking 'round for a fan.
" Why, I 'm a-meltin'!" cried old Aunt Dilly.
The others began
To open the windows, and little Willy
For ice-water ran.

But the fire grew fiercer-the stove was red.
"Turn the damper," John Thomas said:
" Stop the draught, or we '11 all be dead!"
But nobody heard a single word;
For out of the windows each popped a head--
Father and Mother, and grandson Willy,
Pretty Miss May, and old Aunt Dilly;
And since there was n't a window more
For poor John Thomas, he sat on the floor!

Well, the room grew hotter and hotter. At last,
When an hour had passed,
Poor Mr. Chilly drew in his head,
And thus to his suffering wife he said:
" We must call the fire-engines-yes, my dear,
To play on this terrible stove-that 's clear.
So shout, Aunt Dilly, and you, little Willy,
Help me cry FIRE !'" said poor Mr. Chilly.

But when from the windows they all leaned out,
To summon the engines with scream and shout,

" There 's one of us missing exclaimed Mr.
" Not wife, not Willy, not May, nor Aunt Dilly,
Why, who can it be? Ah, yes, I see!
John Thomas is missing,-of course it 's he."
And he called out again to the engines, Play!
Or my wife and children will melt away!"

So the engines played, as he bade them do,-
There must have been a dozen or more,-
On that dreadful stove their streams they threw;
They soaked John Thomas on the floor,
They played on Mr. and Mrs. Chilly,
On pretty May and grandson Willy,-
They sent a shower over old Aunt Dilly.

But "Play more!" and "Play faster!" the
family cried,
Though they gasped and choked and shivered

" Oh, do put us out!"
Mr. Chilly would shout,
Whenever the engines ceased to spout.
Not one of them dared to go to their beds,
But out of the windows they kept their heads;
And all through the night
They would shriek in affright:
"Fire! FIRE! water! WATER!" till broad day-







THE Indian of North America is commonly
supposed to be a grim and sober creature, who
never laughs; a man who at all times conducts
himself in a sedate and rather gloomy manner.
He is very dignified, and never, never smiles. It
is said that, when at home, he is always thinking
of going on the war-path, or planning a grand and
mighty hunt, or sitting by his wigwam thinking
of nothing in particular, which is always a solemn
proceeding in anybody.
Now, it is a curious fact that the Indian has
been strangely misrepresented. It has been dis-
covered that he really liked a little fun, and could
enjoy a game as well as any one. The Chinese
fly kites, and the wild Arabs of the desert tell
stories. It is thought the ancient Egyptians
played jack-stones, and we may be sure the Japan-
ese enjoy many games, as you may learn by look-

ing at their picture-fans. All the civilized nations-
have games: the English like cricket, we have
base-ball, and the people of Holland are supposed
to have invented skates, for which they deserve the
lasting gratitude of mankind. It is interesting to
find that, after all, the Indians have been very
badly treated by the historians, and that they, too,
had an eye for fun, and even had a game of their
When the French first explored the great
country to the north, along the St. Lawrence and
the lakes, they found the Indians had a wild and
exciting game that they played on the grassy
intervals along the rivers, or on the ice in winter.
Hundreds of Indians would sometimes play at a
ball game, like that shown in the above picture.
They used a ball of stuffed skin, and a curious
bat, looking somewhat like a "hockey," having a





net of reindeer hide between the handle and the being about one hundred and twenty yards apart.
crook of the hockey. The French called the bat These form the goals, and the players should wear
a crosse, and, naturally enough, the game was some kind of cap or uniform in the same colors as
soon called La Crosse." This is fortunate, for the goals, say, half the players in white caps or
the Ojibways called it Baggataway," and the Iro- shirts, and half in blue. The poles and flags can be
quois called it "Tekontshikwaheks," and there made at home, the bats cost about one dollar each,
certainly would be little satisfaction in playing a and any good rubber-sponge ball may be used.
game with either of these distressing names. The game is led by two captains selected from
It always is interesting to know where things all the boys, and, to decide disputes, there may be
come from, and explorers, you know, must always also two umpires. Each captain, beginning with
look sharply into every new custom and sport they- the eldest, takes turns in selecting his team from
chance to encounter. So, when they first saw La- all the boys, each choosing twelve, making twenty-
crosse played, they of course asked the Indians six in the game. The two captains do not play,
where they learned the game. But the Indians and have no bats; their duty is to start the game,
looked as surprised as Indians can, and solemnly to look after their sides, to watch the ball, and tell
said they did not know. The rules of the game their own players what to do. The umpires
had been sacredly handed down from father to son, merely look on from the edge of the field, one
and all the tribes had played "Tekontshikwaheks," near each goal. The senior captain places his
they said, ever since the world began. They had men in this order: first one in front of the oppo-
no printed "book of the rules with an historical site goal, second one a short distance in advance
preface," and consequently the origin of Lacrosse of him, a third still farther in advance, and a
is. lost in obscurity. Like "tag," and jack-stones, fourth at the center of the field. At the home
and "follow-my-leader," it had been played so goal he also places one man, a few yards in ad-
very long that it had no history at all. vance of the flags. The remaining players are
However, this melancholy circumstance makes placed at the sides of the third and fourth boys.
no difference now. The interesting fact remains Then the other captain does the same thing, and
that this wild, exciting, and rather rough sport has the field is filled by the twenty-four players in
been tamed and civilized by the Canadians, and pairs, except two on each side. Thus, the two
Lacrosse is now a capital game for boys.
It is now called the national game of the -
Dominion, and every year it is becoming- -
more and more popular. It is played
here in the United States quite often in -
the summer, and the bats can now be
bought in any good toy-shop. -
No boy can afford to be ignorant of -
any of the good games in the world, par- -
ticularly if they call him out-of-doors, .. --
and teach him to be brave, strong, and i '"i" ,.
active. Clearly, it is our duty to learn ',, i -
how Lacrosse is played, and to witness ..': !
a good game.
Lacrosse is played on a level, grassy
field, like a base-ball ground. The
things used in the game are a rubber --
ball, about eight inches in circum-
ference, four light poles or flag-staffs,
each about six feet long, and a bat or
"crosse" for each player. The field for *
a boys' game should be about one hun- .
dred and thirty yards long, and about :. .,..
forty yards wide. The four poles are
in pairs, and should have flags at the A LIVELY SCRIMMAGE.
top in colors; say, two in blue, and two in white, sides are distributed over the entire field. The
The two poles of a pair are set up in the ground rules of the game say there must be no kicking
about six feet apart, the white flags at one end of nor pulling to get at the ball, nor must it be
the field and the blue at the other, the two "colors" once touched by the hands. All the work is done

VoL. VIII.-5.




with the bat. The game is to start the ball from
the center, and to throw it between the goals,
the blues trying to get it past the white flags, and
the whites trying to fling it between the blue flags.
Each side tries its best to defend its own color,
and to get the ball into the enemy's goal. A player
may pick the ball up on his crosse, or catch it on
the fly, or the rebound, and he may, if he can,
run with it on the crosse and throw it into the goal.
Let us see them play. Every one is now ready.
Two players, a blue and white, take position at the
center, with one knee on the ground, their crosses
resting on the grass before them, and the ball lying
between the crosses. The other players stand
ready and watchful in their places. The senior
captain gives the word-" Ready "-" Play! In
an instant there is a lively scrimmage, and the ball
goes skimming through the air. The captains
call up their men. There is a grand rush for the
ball. Down it comes on the bat of a white, but a
blue knocks it off, and away it goes. White and
blue struggle for it. It darts here and there, round
and round, and, with a vigorous knock, a white
sends it whizzing through the air toward the blue
goal. It falls on the grass, and the players from
every side run to catch it. A white reaches the
ball first, pulls it toward him with his bat, and
sets it rolling. Then, with a quick movement, he
shifts the bat in front of it, and it gently rolls into

them in the picture. The fellow ahead holds the
crosse steady before him, with the ball resting on it,
and the others in a jolly rout are after him, blues
and whites together. Two are down and out of the
race. Never mind. Their turn will come soon. Now
a fast race after the swift runner, who keeps his bat
before him with the ball resting on it. A blue comes
up from the side and tries to strike his bat and knock
the ball away. A quick jump aside,-and the run-
ner dodges the blow. Others gather in front to head
him off. He turns this way and that like a deer.
Down they go on the soft grass. Quick as light-
ning he turns around, darts the other way, and runs
on in a wide circle, still aiming for the blue goal.
Ah! they are after him again, blues and whites
all together, and the captains yelling like mad.
Hurrah! They gather around him, dodging and
jumping from side to side, friend and foe together;
the swift runner is nearly lost, but he turns around,
and with a clever movement throws the ball straight
ahead. The blue goal-keeper tries to stop it, but
it flies between the flags. The game is won for the
whites in just two minutes and four seconds.
Whew! This is lively work. Score one for the
whites. Who ever saw such running, such jolly fun,
before ? If it's all like this, a boy may learn to run
like a deer and leap like an antelope.
Once more the ball is placed in the center, and
the game is started. Round and round, backward


the netting. Away he darts on the full run for the
blue goal. The captains shout, and the whole field
run after him as fast as they can go. Those in
front try to head him off. This is fun Look at

and forward, now here, now there, skimming along
the ground, first on one side, then on another, fly-
ing high overhead and bounding along the grass,
the ball is hotly pursued by blues and whites,




pell-mell. The captains run and shout, driving
on the players, or calling to the rescue as the ball
comes dangerously near home. The players keep
their places as nearly as they can, but all are watch-
ful, and run for the ball when it comes near their

When the Indians played Baggataway, they
staked out a field thousands of yards long, and had
a great many players on a side. The game was
fierce and wild, and many were knocked down and
sometimes badly hurt. This was a savage style of

* C-


side-if they have it and cannot keep it, flinging it
to a friend, or sending it flying to the other end of
the field. There she goes! Hurrah! Run, whites;
the blues are upon you! Ah! It's down, and there
is a wild scrimmage. Here they are Pushing, wres-
tling, and having a good, manly struggle for the ball.
Down they go on the grass, tumbling over and
over in the effort to reach the ball. Whiz! Here
she goes There she goes! Run, fellows, run!
The blue boy with the long legs has it. Whack!
Somebody knocked it away. It skims through the
air. Another blue has it! Run, short-legs; you
are a good one! Hello! Tall white fellow in the
way. Bang! It goes high over his head, and,
with a shout, the blues rush up to the goal. Fair
game The blues have it this time I

fun that we have no need to imitate. Lacrosse
should be played by young gentlemen, and not by
roughs. It should be played with dash and vigor,
but without rudeness and unfairness. Games are to
teach manliness, and bravery, and to give strength
to limbs and lungs and heart. Lacrosse is so simple,
so easily learned, and is withal so lively, that every
big boy should join some club or party and go afield,
and learn what it is to run and jump and have a
good time in the free and open air, on the smooth
grass and under the glorious sky. Should you care
to learn the rules of the game, ask at the book-
store for a book on Lacrosse, published by Rose,
Belford & Co., Toronto, Canada. This is said to
be the best thing on the subject, and gives the rules
of the game as played in the Canadian style.








I HAVE been a sewing-machine agent for many
years, and often I would fold a piece of cloth until
it was doubled into eight or ten thicknesses, to
show the strength of the machine. On one occa-
sion, three or four years ago, wanting a piece of
cloth to show another attachment, I ripped the
piece I had been stitching, and, to my astonish-
ment and the delight of those present, I found a
most beautiful design made by the stitches.
The pattern was taken by a lady present and a
beautiful pin-cushion was made from it, by working
the design with Turkey-red in what is called chain-

stitch. You girls will know what that is. I have
since practiced making these designs whenever
showing a machine, and wherever I go I am
requested to make just one more pattern. And as
some very pretty patterns have been made in this
way, I will describe the process so that you can
practice it yourselves-first cautioning you, how-
ever, not only to get your mother's consent, but to
ask her to show you how to work, for a sewing-
machine must be treated very carefully, you know,
and by not using it in the proper manner, or
by disobeying injunctions, you might injure one


_- .'.. .'.' -. : -"
-. '5 .* ''-:;^
S ... ; -, .. "

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so badly that it would cost a considerable sum to
put it in good order again.
First, take a piece of thin, tough paper (such as

of the top fold, but not to run over it. Turn the
paper about, and stitch .back in another direction,
as indicated in Fig. I. Take out the paper and open

FIG. I. FIG. 2.

shoes are wrapped in) about a foot square, and f
the two opposite comers together, making atriang
then fold again with the two long corners togetl
Be sure that the folded
S edges are even each
S.. time you double it. Then
." **.* fold again so that the
S* four corners are togeth-
.er, making a neat little
S right-angled triangle.
*".'*". Now fold once more so
that the center of the
paper is about three-
Sfourths of an inch from
.*.. j the corner. Now remove
the thread and shuttle
S from the machine, take
a rather small needle,
FG. 4. and sew, or rather punch
(commencing at the

it, and you will have something that will pay you
for your trouble. Or, if you will commence at the
center point and run around, forming each line into

.... ."-


FIG. 3.

point marked C in Fig. I), as crooked a line as you an irregular curve, as in Fig. 2, your pattern will be
can sew, allowing the stitches to come to the edge a thing of beauty when unfolded, like that shown at





the head of this article. Fig. 3 shows still another
way of folding the paper and running the stitches,
which also makes a pattern.
To make a braid pattern, take a strip of tough
paper about two feet long and three or four inches
wide, fold it in the center with the two ends to-
gether, then fold the ends back to the center; fold
again and again, each time back to the center, until
the paper is about one inch and a half wide, as
shown in Fig. 4, or sixteen thicknesses, as in the

other form of pattern. Then run a line of holes
across, as crooked as you can, beginning at one
side near the end and running off the other side
near the other end (Fig. 4). This will give you a
continuous braid pattern (Fig. 5), which can be
worked without cutting or crossing the braid.
You can use this as a stencil, by placing it on the
goods to be worked and powdering common bluing
through the holes. The bluing will leave plain
marks, showing how to arrange the braid.




OTH-ER lit-tie boys have count-ed
the stars, but let me tell you how
lit-tie Rob count-ed them. Rob was
then just four years old.
It was a warm sum-mer night.
Mam-ma had put Rob in-to bed, '-~'
and aft-er kiss-ing him sev-er-al times, } "
had left him a-lone to fall a-sleep.
The stars came out, one by one, till
the win-dow was full of the lit-tle
bright twink-lers, and the tired lit-
tle boy lay won-der-ing at their
bright-ness, and count-ing them on his fin-gers and toes; but pret-ty
soon ev-er-y lit-tle fin-ger and toe was "used up," and Rob had many
stars left in the win-dow and no-where to put them. "If I only had a
lit-tie sis-ter," he said, I could use her fin-gers." And there he lay,
with his arms stretched up-ward and a star on ev-er-y lit-tie fin-ger-
tip. As soon as the thought came in-to his head, he popped out of
the bed, and in an in-stant more was mak-ing a map of the lit-tie piece
of sky which he saw, by put-ting a mark for ev-er-y star up-on his
slate. But soon he grew dream-y, his pen-cil moved slow-er, and the
stars grew dim-mer up-on his slate un-til they ceased to shine there,
and lit-tie Rob was fast a-sleep.
The next morn-ing, Rob's mam-ma found the slate ly-ing by his
side, cov-ered with queer lit-tie marks, but mam-ma did n't know what
they were till Rob said they were stars, and she could count them.


Ro-sA and Hil-da were two lit-tie girls who lived on the edge of a
great for-est. Their par-ents were very poor, and the two chil-dren
some-times had to go out in-to the woods to pick up dry sticks for the
kitch-en fire. In the sum-mer they liked to do this, for it was very
pleas-ant to wan-der a-bout un-der the great trees, and o-ver the green


and soft moss which in some places near-ly cov-ered the ground. They
found a great ma-ny things there be-sides dry sticks, and their moth-er
used to think, some-times, that they staid too long a-mong the wild
flow-ers and the moss, while she was wait-ing for wood.
But in win-ter, the chil-dren did not like the for-est. The trees were
bare, the pret-ty moss was all cov-ered with snow, and the cold winds
blew cold-er there, they thought, than any-where else. But the kitch-en
fire need-ed wood more in the win-ter than in the sum-mer, for it was
the on-ly fire in the house, and so Ro-sa and Hil-da ran in-to the for-
est near-ly ev-er-y day, and brought back as ma-ny dry sticks and twigs
as they could car-ry.
One day, Hil-da thought she would take her bas-ket with her, to
gath-er some red ber-ries that she had seen the last time she was in the
woods. There was a good deal of snow on the ground, and it was ver-y
hard for the lit-tle girls to walk; while Max, their dog, who came with
them, sank so deep in-to the snow, at ev-er-y step, that, at last, he grew
tired, and lay down by a big tree. He thought he would wait there
un-til the chil-dren should be go-ing home.
Hil-da said she would go and look for the ber-ries, and when she
had found them, she would come back and help pick up sticks. So
Ro-sa be-gan to gath-er up what dead wood she could find stick-ing out
of the snow, and Hil-da walked as fast as she could to find her red
She thought she knew just where they were, but al-though she
walked very far, she could not see them any-where. At last, she be-gan
to feel ver-y cold and tired and sleep-y, and she thought she would like
to lie right down on the ground and take a nap. She did not know that
when peo-ple lie down on the snow to sleep they very often freeze to
Aft-er a while, she start-ed to go back to Ro-sa, but she did not
walk ver-y far be-fore she tripped o-ver the branch-es of a fall-en tree,
and when she felt her-self ly-ing on the snow, she thought she would
just stay there and take a lit-tle bit of a nap. It would rest her so
much. So she went fast a-sleep.
Be-fore long, Ro-sa be-gan to won-der where her sis-ter had gone,
and then she went to look for her. At first, she could see Hil-da's foot-
steps in the snow, but soon she came to a high, bare place, where the
wind had blown the snow a-way, and there she could see no foot-steps.
So she ran back and called "Max! Max !"
The lit-tle dog was still un-der the tree, but when he heard Ro-sa




call-ing him, he knew that some-thing was the mat-ter, and he ran to
her as fast as he could go. When he saw that she was a-lone, he be-
S gan to run a-bout, to
look for Hil-da, for he
al-ways saw the two
,'. lit-tle girls very near
t iJ each oth-er. He sniffed
m a-round, and then he
e "'i turned to the right and
be-gan to run. He knew
I-i she had gone that way.
SHe could smell her
l-, shoes. Ro-sa ran aft-er
n him, and she soon saw
Hil-da's foot-prints in
Sthe snow. She could
not keep up with Max,
but she could see which
way he went.
Ver-y soon, she came
to a fall-en tree, and
A1nd ytht..-; push-ing a-side the
_--_ a l branch-es, there she saw
her poor lit-tie sis-ter,
ly-ing on the snow, with
S Max lick-ing her face.
SRo-sa thought she was
-. -- dead, but rush-ing to her
_- -" side, she took her in her
arms and found that
she still breathed. Then Ro-sa raised Hil-da to her feet, and hugged and
kissed her un-til she woke her up, while Max barked for joy. When
Hil-da had o-pened her eyes, and could stand up by her-self, Ro-sa took
her by the arm and hur-ried home, Max run-ning a-long in front.
As soon as their moth-er saw them com-ing, she ran to meet them,
and when she heard how lit-tie Hil-da had been in dan-ger of freez-ing
to death in the for-est, she said that her chil-dren should nev-er go
there a-gain when there was a deep snow.
And you may be sure that aft-er that day, Ro-sa and Hil-da, and
their fa-ther and moth-er, thought a great deal of that lit-tie dog Max.






WHEN Jack wakes in the morning,
In these sweet autumn days,
He sees the sumac burning
And the maples in a blaze,
And he rubs his eyes, bewildered,
All in the golden haze.
Then: "No. They still are standing;
They 're not on fire at all"-
He softly says, when slowly
He sees some crimson fall,
And yellow flakes come floating
Down from the oaks so tall.
And then he knows the spirit
Of the sunset must have planned
The myriad bright surprises
That deck the dying land,-
And he wonders if the sumac
And the maples understand.

Now, here is a strange Chinese story; and you
shall have it just as it came to me; it is about a
little insect called a Sphex, which steals baby mos-
quitoes, spiders, and flies, from the mothers; just
as, in the olden time, gypsies stole human children.
In China, the people have a legend that the mother-sphex never
has any children altogether her very own, but steals the babies of
other mother-insects. Then, boring holes in certain kinds of wood,
she places the infant prisoners in them, and covers them up with
the soft borings of the wood. She leaves a small opening through
which she can watch the tiny baby, and then hovers over it, day
after day, singing, "Little sphex Little sphex! Little sphex! until
the little thing, always hearing itself called a sphex, grows to be one,
and at last comes forth, a real, true sphex, and becomes the child of
its foster-mother. On account of this legend, adopted children, in
China, are called sphex-children.
However, the truth has been found out at last, and although it is
not quite so pretty as the story, it is more motherly; here it is:
The real sphex-mother is a dark, bluish insect, of about the size of
a common wasp. She lays a great many eggs; but only one in
any one nest, which she bores in wood. She does, indeed, steal
other insects; but they are to be the food of the tiny egg when it has
become a little whitish worm, which feeds on the spiders, flies, and
mosquitoes that its mother has stored for it. At length, the worm
leaves off eating, and weaves for itself a silken wrapping, and, after
days of sleep, awakes, to find itself a perfect sphex, with legs and
wings, and comes forth to float in the bright sunshine.

One day, a certain traveler, then living in China, saw a sphex
hovering over a hole in the wood of his book-case. Out of this hole
he took a sphex-worm, and the remains of thirty-four spiders. Also,
in the wood of a chair and table, in the same room, he found other
sphex-babies. All of these he discovered by the sphex-mother flying
about the holes and making that peculiar noise sounding like the
words, "Little sphex Little sphex "
THE natives of Mexico and of some parts of South
America have no trouble whatever about sewing-
tools; their needles grow, ready threaded, and I 'm
told that anybody who wishes to use needles and
thread just walks up to the plant and takes them.
The needle is a slender thorn that grows at the
end of the leaf of the maguey tree, and the thread
is a fiber which is attached to the thorn. It is easy
to pluck the thorn and draw it out with its fiber,
and the two perfectly answer the purpose of ordi-
nary needles and thread, considering the kinds of
cloth and costume used in the tropical countries
where they are found.

YOUR Jack has just heard of some monkeys who
were educated, not to beg pennies nor to make bows,
but to do something really useful. They lived in
the Jimma country, which lies south of Abyssinia,
and they held the torches at grand suppers, seated
in rows on high benches around the banquet room.
There they silently waited, holding up the lights,
until the feasters had finished; and then the mon-
keys came in for a share of the good things. Some-
times, one of them would become impatient for his
supper, and throw his flaming light among the
guests, as if to make them hurry; but, as a rule,
these monkey torch-bearers behaved well.

IT is not an insect nor a bird that I mean, but a
human baby, cradled in a single leaf. The leaf is a
big one, to be sure, being five or six feet across, and
having a rim three inches high all around its edge.
It is the leaf of the Victoria Regia, a gigantic
water-lily found only in the warmest parts of South
America. Each plant has a number of these huge
pads, which rest upon the top of the water. A big
bird can stand on one of them without sinking, and,
sometimes, when a mother is gathering the seeds
of the plant, which are used for food, she will lay
her baby asleep on one of the leaves, where it is
perfectly safe until she is ready to take it up.
What nice cool cradles these lily-pads must make,
in that hot country!

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Mother says, your May picture of a
tree growing high in the air upon an older tree reminds her that,
when she was a child, she could see from her window a white-currant
bush ;- :.. ad bearing fruit far up in the branches of a locust
tree. .. -.. I had dropped a seed there years before, and when
the currants were ripe, the pretty winged things came and feasted on
them, chattering away at a great rate, and no doubt feeling safe
from stones up among the leaves.-Yours truly, KATE H.

GOOD LUCK to you!" said the rosy Little
School-ma'am, one Friday, smiling at a group of
boys and girls from the Red School-house, as they




were planning to go on a nutting frolic the next
day. Take care of yourselves, and don't hurt the
trees, for the poor things cannot defend themselves,
and have no four-handed friends to help them, like
some other trees I know of."
Then the children crowded about her to hear
more, and she told them of the graceful Brazilian
trees from which come the queer, three-sided,
hard-shelled nuts called Brazil-nuts. These grow
packed many together, the sharp edge inward,
almost like the parts of an orange, and each clus-
ter is covered with a hard, woody shell, making a
ball half as large as a man's head.
If monkeys happen to be in a Brazil-nut tree, and
you throw something up to knock down the fruit,
those four-handed little fellows will defend the tree
in a very lively fashion, by pelting you with the
hard, heavy globes, so that you will be glad to get
out of the way. Knowing this habit of the monkeys,
the Indians save themselves the trouble of climbing
the trees when they wish to gather the fruit. In
the nut-harvest time, they just provoke the
monkeys to throw down the nuts, and, when the
shower is over, all they have to
do is to carry the prizes quietly,
to their boats and drift wit -
them down the Orinoco rive -
to market.

YOUR Jack has been in-
formed that Yellowstone Lak-
and the land round about it
have been set'apart as a "Na-
tional Park." This is as it
should be, for the place, the-
say, is full of strange and
beautiful sights -hot-wate
springs side by side with ice
cold streams; geysers, or
spouting fountains of hot
water, of mud, and of
steam; grand water-falls,
one of them more than
three hundred feet high;
gloomy chasms and cai-
ons; dreadfulrocks; roar-
ing torrents; snow-cov-
ered mountains; and a
wide and peaceful lake. OLD G -B
But one of the most striking of the wonders of
this strange region is the glass mountain, a tall
cliff of black and dark-crimson rock, in bands or
layers. Through the points and jutting corners of
the rock the sun shines, but the face of the cliff has
only a gloss in the light, and does not gleam like
ordinary glass. The rock is a sort of cousin of that
from which the Indians used to chip their hatchets;
and when you hold a thin piece up before the eye,
the light passes through. It is called "(banded
obsidian," and, at one time, it lay molten inside
the earth, but, ages ago, it was poured out, and
cooled in its present form. In the picture, the Glass
Mountain is at the right, jutting into the valley.
Spread out before the cliff lie the head-waters

of a river, which the beavers dammed up so as to
form a lake, now known as "Beaver Lake."
The small picture shows a geyser-basin from
which the water no longer spouts. It seems to be
nothing but a round hole full of warm water when
you are close by, but from the top of a neighbor-
ing rock, it appears to be a fairy grotto, indescrib-
ably beautiful, with green and silvery lights, deep
shadows, and brightly glistening sides.
IF you were natives of Central Africa, my dears,
where beads are money, how glad you would be
to learn that there are in the world great hills
formed of beads, produced by natural causes !
One of these hills, not very far from Buenos
Ayres, South America, is made of little round
stones of various colors, each stone with a small
round hole through it. Now, how did it get there ?
There are natural beads in Africa, also, on
the south-eastern coast, but they are less beautiful,
being but dull red or white quartz crystals with
smooth edges. They are about a third of an inch

: i t. l r,: .-. -. --i f i,-.r,.. v -I .: .:h

Would n't some of you be glad to take a
stroll on these heaps of beads But then, the
colors and shapes are not nearly as pretty, nor as
many, as those of the beads which you girls buy and
string into necklets and other dainty ornaments.

DEACON GREEN sends to you all, and especially
to you New England youngsters, his hearty wishes
that you may enjoy Thanksgiving Day. He says:
"Most of you will wish to wind up the merry
holiday wisely, and one way would be to let the
smaller ones form a line, just before you trot off to
bed, and all sing some little Thanksgiving song.
Of course, the plan will be kept a secret until
the time to sing, both by yourselves and by any
older persons who may help you."



Ti-E h r. ; r




THE addition of sixteen pages to each number of ST. NICHOLAS,
which began with the volume just closed, and which is to be per-
manently kept up, makes a bound volume of twelve numbers too
unwieldy to handle. Therefore, the yearly numbers of Vol. VII.,
and its successors, are to be bound in two parts, each complete in
itself-as a book-but being only fiaf a volume. Thus, two bound
books are required for a complete volume. Vol. VII., in two parts,
contains a great deal more matter than any volume of ST. NICHOLAS
ever issued, and yet it can be handled in this divided shape much
more readily, and with less injury to the binding, than could the
bulkier volumes.
Remember this, boys and girls: If you miss the former thickness
of each volume of ST NICHOLAS, you have instead a really larger
volume now, but one that is divided into two books, which two
readers may enjoy separately at the same time.

C. W. F. AND OTHERS.-The story of "The Crow-Child," which
you asked for, and which the Editor told many years ago, is re-
printed in the present number.

WE take pleasure in calling the especial attention of our readers
to Mr. Ballard's interesting paper on the Agassiz Association,
begun on page 28 of the present number. We cordially indorse
the project of having a ST. NICHOLAS branch of the Association, and
trust that it may grow and thrive under Mr. Ballard's good manage-
ment and hearty sympathy. All letters on the subject should be
sent directly to Mr. Harlan H. Ballard, Lenox Academy, Lenox,
Mass., and not to the office of ST. NICHOLAS. That gentleman will
attend personally to all such correspondence, though he frequently
may address the ST. NICHOLAS branch through the pages of this
magazine. The names of all boys and girls who join the ST. NICH-
oLAs branch of the Agassiz Association before January ist, shall,
if possible, be printed in our Letter-Box.
The following extract from Mr. Ballard's letter explains itself:
"Professor Alexander Agassiz* has read the inclosed MSS., and
writes that he cordially assents that this very pleasant and useful plan
for children be called the Agassiz Association, and that we have his
'hearty good wishes' for its success."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wish to tell the readers of ST. NICHOLAS
how to make a panorama. Nothing is needed except a box, either
pasteboard or wood, and for the rollers take an old broom-handle.
Cut it to fit the width of the box; then take a tack or small nail and
drive it through the under part of the box into the bottom part of the
roller. Put a crank on the top of each roller; then join the pictures
neatly together with -'ii a, i... being very careful to keep them in
a straight row, so that hey will roll around the rollrlers straight; cut
an opening in the back of the box large enough to .admit a candle.
Now all is finished; take it into a dark room, with the candle lighted,
turn the crank, ...1 r ..r ...... .. .r ..-
pense, and with -..- I.irl- rr ..I i., 11 .lr..r.l- t...: i,, .,: i,,:h -.. :.-
ment. Any boy or girl can make one.-Yours truly,

WILL Miss Ella S. Cummins please send her full address to the
Editor? The article will appear in an early number.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Here is an idea in aid of those who wish
to give home-made Christmas presents.
You must know that one summer i. l..:i gourd-vines, just as
you advised in the last August 1 r,.: i- ., and early in the fol-
In-vinc N-n-ember. -'e had a wonderful lot of oddly shaped, rattling
thii.-.- i-, i ,[ r .r" p.rcr MI
i._.-, I.. j1 1.1 irl..: I globe; these we made into work-
baskets, card-receivers, and bol I i rr'e fl ... r: '-: For the
first of these, a round piece wa ...,t n .:.i' r.e I i... -, i i 1. The
lining was of gold-colored silk, -id d.i-: ..L.,I ..' i [ il.i.l-J black,

with a twining wreath of nasturtiums. One globe, painted dark
green, held a small china bowl for cut flowers.
The "bottle-gourds" we painted black, with dull red figures, to
imitate antique vases. There was a difficulty in matching pairs; but
even genuine vases are not always mates.
The little egg-gourds, frequently used as nest-eggs, we cut in two,
painted blue and white, mounted on feet of twisted wire, and used as
jewel stands.
One of the "pears" we turned to an inkstand, the inside thor-
oughly sand-papered and painted. The upper part was cut off, and
served as a lid, and a narrow ribbon, tied through two holes at the
back, became a "hinge." Inside, we set a flat glass bottle, with a
There were many other shapes, but I need not tell what we did
with them, for anybody, with a little ingenuity and a few oil-colors,
may turn them to account in a thousand pretty and curious ways.-
Yours truly, E. A. E.

EMILY T.-The word "quandary" means "a state of doubt or
perplexity," and it is said to be derived from the French phrase
"Qu'en dirai-je ?" which means, What shall I say of it? "

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Two boys were .:r:-._- a their door-step,
with their slates and pencils before them. .*- 1 to the other:
Two from one leaves one, does n't it ?"
"Yes," replied the other.
A gentleman passing heard them, and said :
Boys, if you prove to me that two from one leaves one, I will
give you each asixpence."
So the boys took the gentleman into the house, where the cat was
washing her two babies; each boy took a kitten away, and said:
Two from one leaves one."
So the gentleman gave them each a sixpence.-Your constant
reader, C. N. H.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Here is a way to make good baskets at
home, and pretty and cheap, too, out of corn-husks,-thick outer
husks for strong baskets, and for lighter and finer ones the
white inner parts. These must be wrapped for an hour or so in
a damp towel, and then cut into strips of equal width. Make an
ordinary braid with six or more strips, which may be doubled, or even
trebled, for greater strength. Thread a needle with heavy, waxed
linen thread, and having dampened the braid, form it in an oval, five
or six inches long and three wide, for the bottom of the basket, and
.... d l,. ...._ edges of the braid together, as in a straw hat, but
J .** :.i't i. :;*-* Go on coiling and stitching for the sides of the
basket, ;.l-s.... .- I- I .:;..-. until the basket is deep enough.
The .. -r. 1'. -,: 1..: I heavy three-stranded braid, which is
sewed all around the top of the basket, just inside, and looped up
at the middle of each side.
For ornament, wind the handles with scarlet or blue braid, put a
box-plaiting of it around the top, and work a bunch of flowers on
one side in gay worsteds, with long stitches. The opposite side may
have a letter or a name.-Yours truly, EDITH.

POSTAGE-STAMP COLLECTOR.-It is not known for a certainty
what is the number of different kinds of postage-stamps issued all
over the world, but the London Times lately estimated it at six
thousand. However, a certain English firm lately wrote to another
London paper: "We are at this moment negotiating the purchase
of a collection of nine thousand, all different; and, in 1877, we gave
8oo for a collection of seventeen thousand varieties. This very
day, a collection of twenty thousand, all different, has been offered
to us."

E. M. B. SENDS this French story put into English:
Cardinal Dubois, a very hot-tempered man, was in the habit of
eating a chicken-wing every evening. One day, when it was time
to serve the chicken, a dog carried it away.
The servants put another chicken on the spit; but the Cardinal
ordereddinnerimmediately. Ti r. F-.6:.. i :- -I ,.:r. .,. .:. ..,'- I,..
.-.-. r hi. ,,:' .-ould beif r. I1 t ... h ,. i i --. J, .. .1 r ,,. el
i I :...,...oJ ',.' usual hour, determined to play a part. Address-
I,; hlihe i i- 1'. it said: Monseigneur, you have dined."
i t.- .I.r- n' exclaimed the Cardinal.
"Certainly, mouseigneur. It is true that you ate little; you ap-

* The son of Professor Louis Agassiz, and now a professor in Harvard University.




peared much taken up with your affairs. If you like, we can serve
another chicken. It would not take long to prepare."
Dr. Chirac, a physician, who saw Dubois every evening, arrived
at this moment; the servants detained him, and begged him to help
their plan.
Zounds! exclaimed the Cardinal, when the doctor entered the
room, "my servants wish to persuade me that I have dined. I have
not the least remembrance of it, and besides, I am very hungry."
"So much the better," said the doctor. "The first piece has
only sharpened your appetite; eat again, but not much. Then,
-..;r.-_ the servants, he said: "Wait upon your master."
11.: .rdinal considered Chirac's advice that he should have two
dinners as an evident mark of his own improved health, and believed
firmly that he had already made a repast. This put him in the best
of humors.

August "Letter-Box for the names of leafless plants, and of
leafless South American Creepers. George Stimson Burdick, of
Massachusetts, and Frank Boyd, New York, name as a leafless
plant the Rafflesia Arnoldi, described in the Letter-Box for May
and September, 1879. Florence E. Keep, New Jersey, and John
M. Howells, Massachusetts, mention the Flax Dodder, Cuscuta
EIilitai, ConvolvulRacea, described by Gray. E. M. W. S., New
York, names the Cactus, and adds that in South America there are
two leafless creeping plants, the Cereus Serenftinus and the Cereus
Flagelliformis. Rosa Cooper, Missouri, says: "I saw on the
trees near Baton Rouge, Louisiana, a leafless vine called there the
'love-vine.' It is of a reddish color and the light shines through
it. If you break off a piece, and throw it upon a tree or bush, it
will grow." And E. M. Van Cleve, Ohio, writes: "Here we
have a plant with leafless, cream-colored stalk, four or five inches
high, bearing yellow, bell-shaped blossoms. I do not know the

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Here in Memphis we have a beautiful
park: but that is not strange for a fine city. Il, ii-. i, though,
we have-what do you think? "Sparrows," .. 11 .uess, ot
course. Well, we have birds, but we have what we think more of
-squirrels! They are very tame, and it is fun to feed them, and
watch them scamper up the tree-trunks and along the branches.
The boys do not try to catch and plague them, but act just the
contrary way. Boys are apt to act contrary; at least, some boys
are, are n't they ?-to their sisters, I mean. But they have taken the
frisky little chaps under their protection; and if a strange fellow
should misbehave toward a squirrel, I am afraid the guardians
might not treat him as gently as they treat their pets.
One of my girl-cousins writes from New York that she and her
friends sometimes skate with their parlor skates on the asphaltum
walks of Washington Square, which she calls "a pretty park ";
but there are no squirrels there, she says.-Your loving reader,

S. P., ToRONTo.-The following answer to your inquiry as to the
origin of the "Union Jack" is given on the authority of the Anti-
quary, an English journal:
Before the crowns of England and Scotland were united, on the
death of Queen Elizabeth, the flag carried by English ships was
white, with the red cross of St. George, and the Scottish flag was
blue, with the cross of St. Andrew, the red lines of the first being at
right angles to each other and to the edges of the flag, while those
of the second were diagonal. Some trouble arose about the flags
among the ship-captains of the two countries, soon after James I.
became king; and so, to prevent this in future, and to teach his
people that they now formed one nation, he ordained a new flag,-
the Union Jack,"-with the cross of St. George overlying that of
St. Andrew on the blue ground of the flag of Scotland. All ships
were to carry it at the mainmast-head, but the English ships were
to display also the St. George's red cross at the stern, and the Scot-
tish that of St. Andrew in the same place. On the x2th of April,
1606, the Union Jack was first hoisted at sea; but it was not until
the parliamentary union of the two countries, in 1707, that it was
adopted as the military flag of Great Britain. Both army and navy
now use it as the national banner.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Papa once told me about a Chinese idol,
and I thought perhaps you would like to hear, too.
Once, when Papa was in China, he wanted to buy an idol to keep
as a curiosity. At first, the Chinese were unwilling to part with one;

but as he was going away, they ran after him, and told him they
would sell one out of the temple to him, if he would give them a
dollar for it. He bought it, and took it to his lodgings.
A few days later, some one was sick in the house, and the Chinese
said it was because the idol was angry for being taken out of the
temple, and they wanted to know if they might take it away and
make a feast for it. Papa let them; and they offered to the idol a
great many delicacies; and then they brought it back and said they
thought he was satisfied. Three times some one was sick in the
house, and each time they took the idol away and feasted it.
At last, one morning, when the family came down-stairs, they
looked around for the idol, and it had disappeared. They never
heard of it any more, but Papa thinks that the Chinese took it
back to the temple.
My uncle once had a dog who was quite savage. One day he
went out, leaving the dog behind him, in the room where all the
clerks were sitting. As soon as the dog found that my uncle had
gone out, he went and lay down near the door, and when any of
the clerks attempted to get up, he would run and give him a bite.
On my uncle's return, he found all the clerks just as he had left
them.-Your most interested reader, A. H.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Although there is no resemblance between
the two, the behavior of the rhinoceros, as described in Mr. Inger-
soll's October article on "Man-Eaters," reminds me of the similarly
bad habit of the Texan cattle, which range wild over our south-western
They are accustomed to see men on horseback, and rarely fail to
submit to their driving, but a man on foot is at once made the
object of attack. No matter how far away the herd of cattle may
be, some of the bulls, which are always on the lookout, will espy a
man, and rush at him with their heads down and tails up. There
is only one way for him to avoid them and save his life, and that is
to throw himself flat upon the ground and remain perfectly quiet.
They will come tearing up to him, and perhaps leap over his prostrate
body, bellow and prance about him, kicking up clouds of dust; will
even come and smell his clothes, pouring their hot breath into his
face; but so long as he remains quiet, they will not touch him.
They suppose him dead, and though perhaps a little mystified by
his sudden decease, are satisfied that he is disposed of, and soon go
T is description is true, also, of the Australian wild cattle, and I
suppose the same tactics would irmre -"f against the angry
steer that gets "on the rampage ... i. .... I1 when somebody is
crossing a pasture. The next time any Letter-Box reader is in
this predicament, let him try the Texas plan, and write to me the
result.-Truly yours, VAQUERO."

FLYING-FISH."-Your namesakes, the Flying-Fish, so called, are
said by some observers not to fly but to sail. However, the latest
writers on the subject say that these fish flap their pectoral fins very
fast, like wings, during the first third of their flight, but skim or sail for
the remainder. They swim in shoals, and often numbers of them leave
the water at the same time. They rise from the surface to a height
of twelve or even eighteen feet, and their journey through the air is
about two hundred yards in length. They fly sometimes, as it seems,
from pure delight in flying, but they often are compelled to leave
their native element to avoid being swallowed up. When the dol-
phin takes his great leaps out of the water after them, they let them-
selves drop suddenly, and rise in a different direction; but they fre-
quently fall victims to the leaping giant.
The South Sea Islanders go out with torches at night, in their
canoes, along the coral reefs, and catch these pretty fish in nets
attached to poles. They abound in all the warm seas of the globe,
and are sometimes seen in the temperate zones.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have just read about an old British
game, which may suit American boys in cold weather. It is called
"Quintain. "
Drive a stake into the ground so that five or six feet of it will
stand out. Cut the top of the stake into a pivot with a wide shoul-
der. The pivot is to fit loosely into a round hole in the middle of
a light beam of wood about six feet long. This beam swings around
easily, the shoulder i..r: *.*-.,*: it from slipping down and jamming.
At one end of the ..-...., i -. small flat board, in an upright posi-
tion; this is the quintain, and is the mark to be aimed at. At the
other end of the beam, hang with a stout cord a good-sized bag,
stuffed with corn-husks, shavings, or waste-paper.
The players carry long sticks, and these they use as lances, run-
ning their fastest, and aiming to hit the quintain with the lance-
point, and to dart ahead in time to escape a blow from the bag,
which swings around swiftly the moment the mark is struck.
It adds to the fun to ride at the quintain astride of a wooden
horse drawn by one or more companions. No truly valiant knight,




whether afoot or on horseback, ever thinks of ducking to avoid the
bag. Boys who have the use of real horses can set up a taller stake
and use longer poles.
At first sight, this seems a rough game for girls, but it need not be
roughly played; and some girls are just as successful in it as many
boys are, with quite as much enjoyment of the fun.
SA tournament might be managed by setting two stakes opposite
each other, with the quintains nearly touching as they stretch over
the lists, or runway. Of course, the knights must charge in con-
trary directions, and the less skillful one runs the risk of being
struck by both bags.
The Letter-Box boys and girls of Old London may like to
know that near the end of the sixteenth century a quintain stood in
Cornhill, near Leadenhall. In those rough times, the quintain was
shaped like a shield, and the bag was filled with sand.-Yours,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Please let me tell the Letter-Box" read-
ers about our summer saucers. One day, in the dry season, we
filled three flower-pot saucers with water, and placed them in the
shade of a lilac-bush near the dining-room window.
Presently a cat-bird came daintily along, stopped at one of the
saucers, took a drink, jumped in, and had a glorious bath. No
sooner had he gone than a couple of wrens followed his example,
and next came a robin red-breast, "who made a great fuss.
A tanager and three bluebirds were waiting respectfully for him
to finish; but meantime, the cat-bird dried himself and came for
another dip. Then there was a general squabble, and a tiny
"chippy," taking advantage of the confusion, hopped up and
splashed about merrily in the disputed bath. When he had gone,
the three bluebirds took each a saucer, and bathed, and spluttered,
and refreshed themselves, until Master Robin came up in a great
bustle of importance, and they made way for him to take his second
bath alone. This, the cat-bird could n't stand, so he came and
drove Master Robin away, only to be driven off in his turn a few
moments after. And this see-saw went on for some time. When
the rivals were satisfied, however, dozens of other birds came and
enjoyed the water until roosting-time.
Since that first day, we have added a pudding-dish with a few
pebbles in the bottom; and this the larger birds prefer. And we
mean to keep our saucers at work as long as the -.;J. -, 1 ,
for it is very pleasant to watch the funny ways of i.. I.rrl.: i.- .ri.. .
fellows, and they do seem to like their baths so much.-Yours truly,
Frank's plan, we hope, will be widely followed, for it is an excel-
lent one. Not only is it a real kindness to the birds, but it may
afford, as in the instance he describes, an opportunity to see a
remarkable assortment of various birds, all attracted by the luxury
of a "free bath."

ONCE, a little boy, Jack, was, oh ever so good,
Till he took a strange notion to cry all he could.
So he cried all the day, and he cried all the night,
He cried in the morning and in the twilight;
He cried till his voice was as hoarse as a crow,
And his mouth grew so large it looked like a great 0.
It grew at the bottom, and grew at the top;
It grew till they thought that it never would stop.
Each day his great mouth grew taller and taller,
And his dear little self grew smaller and smaller.
At last, that same mouth grew so big that-alack!-
It was only a mouth with a border of Jack.
And so this was all that was left of poor Jack:
The great gaping mouth, like a wide-open sack P. K.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Late in the dusk of the evening before
Thanksgiving Day, around and about our part of Massachusetts,
you expect something to happen like this.
There comes a timid knock at the door. You open, and there
stands a ragged little girl with a huge basket, and a shawl very thin
for the chill November air. She asks, humbly: Please, ma'am,
give me something for Thanksgiving?" Then, even if your store
of dainties is not ample, you can't but slip a bit of something extra
nice into the big basket. And, as the little shiverer shuffles away,
you wish her a pleasant time.
This begging on Thanksgiving Eve is a very old custom around
here, and the professional beggars make it a good harvest, I have
no doubt. But the village boys and girls look upon it as a chance for
They dress up in ragged old clothes, and limp in twos and threes
from house to house, pretending to be beggars. Of course, they

betray themselves pretty often, or are found out, but with a merry
laugh, they run off and try their luck elsewhere. If they can coax
some dear old lady, who would : ...' them at once in broad
daylight, to go and fetch them .r. .-..r. for Thanksgiving," the
little rogues steal softly after her into the kitchen; and, when the
surprise is over, they feast gayly then and there upon the simple gift
intended. And, somehow, when they go, they leave behind them
a heart almost as cheery as their own.
I send you a rhymed puzzle, based on this mock-begging custom.
The answer will be plain enough to those who read my note, but
perhaps they may like to puzzle their friends with it. The same twelve
letters are omitted from every stanza,-Yours truly,

See through the dust a smart new *;
Passing a group of peddlers' *;
Driving the former, a gay --ynn- 'prig
Strikes with his whip the. rri,, pans.
Grandma starts from her dozing and ing;
But puss by the stove still keeps on blinking.

Next, grandma tries, in the dusk, to *;
When lo! in the yard three make-believe "* *"I
Noiselessly past the window they flit.
Torn are their garments in tatters and rags.
Grandma's heart is tender and 1o *
Poor beggars like these are surely moving!

Hark! 'tis the knocker, "Clang! Clang! Bang!"
Grandma opens the door to see
Standing before her a sorry *,
All in a row, not vis-ra- *
"Poor little beggars," says Grandma, winking.
"You must be" cold and hungry, I'm * ing.

Come in, come in, from the frosty ."
"Please, ma'am, give us something to eat."
"Peggy," cries Grandma, quick, bring a light,
And bring apple dumplings and mince pies sweet.
Ah! rogues! I see through your rags and masking,
Nell, Bessie, and May, cold ictuals * !"

How did you know us? ask Bessie and May.
"How did you know us? chimes in little Nell.
"How could I help it?" laughs Grandma Gray;
But why did you beg, dear children, tell?
Surely you need not beg for a living."
No, no 't was in fun, for to-morrow's * * "

Six little cousins write that this Autumn they have "something
very hard to do." Their Uncle Ronald, they say, has promised
them one dollar for each perfect fair of hickory nuts they find.
"Every one of us," they add, "intends to find a pair-a perfect
pair, in size, color and shape."
Uncle Ronald's dollars are very safe, we think.

THE following beautiful incident will interest all who love birds
and little children:
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I was sitting reading alone in the orchard,
one fine afternoon in August, when all this happened which I want
to tell you.
Through half-closed eyes I saw, across the white, winding country-
road, the gabled cottage home so dear to me.
Suddenly, a tiny form appeared on the porch. It was our golden-
haired baby-boy, trying to get away unseen, for a ramble all by him-
self. He did not see me, so I determined to watch him, and be
ready to help in case of need.
Straight down the path he trotted, and through the gate, without
stopping to close it. Across the dusty road-and down upon all
fours to creep beneath the orchard bars; up again, and on he came,
and I was still unseen behind my tree.
He stopped a few steps off, gazing up with the face and eyes of a
little cherub into the branches above me. But on a sudden, the angel
vanished and he became a roguish human child. Swaying, all
unconscious, upon the lower limb of my tree was a lovely bird, which
Baby saw. He stooped, picked up a stone, and poised his little arm
in act to throw.
At this instant, a burst of melody bubbled out. Baby's hand was
still poised, but now it faltered-slowly fell, and dropped at his side
-the pebble slipping down among the grass! The little face was
again a cherub's.
Very quietly I asked: Why did n't you throw it, darling ?"
Without one look of guilt or start of surprise came Baby's answer:
"Tould n't! 'tos he sung so "-Yours truly,







RHOMBOID. Across: x. Tarries. 2. A narrow piece. 3. A man's
name. 4. Shaves. 5. A small cord. Downward: x. In wry. 2.
Like. 3. A possessive pronoun. 4. A jaunt. 5. A man's name. 6.
To shave. 7. To fix firmly. 8. In like manner. 9. In bundles.
INCLUDED DIAMOND: I and 5 are in schools. 2. To tear. 3. A
man's name. 4. Equal value. c. D.

THE initials spell the name of a city of the United States, and the
finals name the State of which the city is the capital.
I. An island belonging to, and lying east of, Massachusetts. 2.
The capital of South Australia. 3. A country of Northern Europe.
4. A city yet in existence, which was the early residence of Abraham
and David and the patriarchs. 5. "The Queen of the Sea." 6. The
capital of one of the United States. 7. A city of France. 8. A city
of Switzerland. 9. One of the five great lakes. MARY L. PERRY.

THIS puzzle is to be answered by one word, the first part of
which may be found in the first quotation, and the second part, in
the next. The third quotation is merely a hint of the whole word.
I. "You shall have better cheer
Ere you depart; and thanks, to stay and eat it."
Cymlbeline, Act III. Sc. 6.
II. He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage."
Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act II. Sc. 7.
III. At a farm-house, a-feasting."
Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I. Sc. 3.

THIS differs from the ordinary cross-word enigma, by requiring two
answers instead of one. The first letter of each answer is "in Hiram,
not in Ned," the second "in Nathan, not in Fred," and so on till
the two words, of seven letters each, have been spelled.
In Hiram, not in Ned; In nothing, not in less;
In Nathan, not in Fred; In Cora, not in Bess;
In funny, not in odd; In hydrant, not in hose.
In feather, not in rod; A time of life each answer shows. c. D.

THE same eleven letters are omitted from each stanza.
i. In winter the sparrow is hungry and ***;
On crumbs in our gardens he *****%
Winter starves the poor birdies, and so we must aim
To save and bring cheer to their lives.
2. And when in the spring they have chosen their ****,
Each brooding o'er birdlings five,
We '11 hail the new-comers, and strew at our gates
The food that will aid them to ******
3. While the bees in the summer are storing their *****
The sparrows still chirrup and chatter;-
Their crumbs we've forgotten while taking our drives,
They're hungry, and that's what's the *****N'
4. When in autumn we harvest the after****,
Our sparrows are apt to be *****,
Till the bread has been strewn on the garden path;
But then they are "gay and festive."
5. Which, now, of the seasons do sparrows love best ?
Shall I hint it to you with my rhyme?
They love the gay summer, the winter detest,
But rejoice in the rich ***** ****. LILIAN PAYSON.





My first is in boot, but not in
My second in old, but not
in new.
My third is in look, but not
in see;
My fourth is in insect, but not
in bee. A
My fifth is in slippers, but A
not in feet;
My sixth is in cold, but not
in heat.
My seventh in aim, but not in hit;
My eighth is in cat, but not in kit.
My ninth is in oak, but not in pine;
My whole names one who is "bound to shine." H. p.

AcRoss: I. Clipped close. 2. Concluded. 3. A disre-
spectful name for a parent. 4. In November. DOWNWARD: I.
In school. 2. A pronoun. 3. Termination. 4. A man's name.
5. A color. 6. A boy's nickname. 7. In debt. c. D.

SEVERAL bright puzzlers have discovered that some of the
metamorphoses may be effected in fewer steps than the number
given. Since any metamorphosis may be brought about in sev-

eral different ways, it is by no means certain that the maker of the puz-
zle has discovered the shortest. Who can lessen the number of moves
here named as necessary to solve the following metamorphoses ?
x. Change BLACK to WHITE in eight moves. 2. Change LEAD
to GOLD in three moves. 3. Change HAPPY to SORRY in eight
moves. 4. Change HILL to VALE in three moves. 5. Change
BUSH to TREE in seven moves. 6. Change SUMMER to GARDEN I1
eleven moves. 7. Change SEED to CORN in SiX moves. WINSOR.

I. Four-letter Base. He clapped his hands, and a very small
boy, sitting in a corner of the room, handed rope to him.
II. Five-letter Base. "Philip, has Ed shoveled the snow?
He avoids me because I said, 'Don't leave your tool-case in
every one's way! Your elders object.'"

CENTRALS: A fabled messenger. ACRoss: x. A sea-maiden.
2. Severe of manner. 3. An
ancient vessel. 4. A conso-
nant. 5 Merriment. 6. The
sacred book of an Eastern re-
ligion. 7. A species of reed,
formerly much used by the
Egyptians. TYRO.

PRAY you, never be my
I'm sure you wear my second;
But if you are my whole,
my girl,
With scorn you may be reck-
oned. o. c. D.


NUMERICAL ENIGMA. October.-- CHARADE. Pirate. SQUARE WORD. i. Frost. 2. Rogue. 3. Ogden. 4. Suent. 5.
PICTORIAL NUMERICAL ENIGMA. Out of the eater came forth Tents.
meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness. DIAMOND IN A SQUARE. R O B E S
Old Testament, Book ofJudges, Ch. xiv., Verse 14. o V A T E
Two ANAGRAMs. I. John Milton. 2. Mungo Park. B A T H E
MALTESE CROSS. Frail-Era-Exert-Gee-Con-Howls- E T H E R
Crags-Age-R. s E E R s
DOUBLE ACROsTIC. Autumn-apples. x. ArabiA. 2. UP. 3. EASY PICTORIAL PUZZLE. I. Locomotives. 2. Clove. 3. Stool.
ToP. 4. UnusuaL. 5. MorE. 6. NutS. 4. Mit. 5. Moose. 6. Mole. 7. Lime. 8. Olive. 9. Colt. to.
CRoss-WonR ENIGMA. Academy. Stove. Ix. Elm. 12. Ice. 13. Time. 14. Tome. 5. Coil. 16.
SIMPLE SEXTUPLE CROSS. Across: Caravan. Down: Capacity. Comet. 17. Stile. 18. Tiles. 19. Vest. 2o. Cot. 21. Vise. 22.
HOUR-GLAss PUZZLE. Hater-Ere-A-Rid-Soles. Violet. 23. Viol. 24. Mice. 25. Scot.

ANSWERS TO AUGUST PUZZLES were received too late for acknowledgment in September number from "A Wasp, a Bee, and a Fly,"
Scotland, 5-Beatrice C. B. Sturgis, Hanover, Prussia, 2.
SOLUTIONS OF PUZZLES IN THE SEPTEMBER NUMBER were received before September 20, from Thomas H. Gambling, --Amelia and
F. Hull Watson, i-Bessie Watson, I-H. W. B., i-Abie Ray Tyler, 3-Harry A. Howland, i-J L., 4-Katie R. Rogers 2-C F
and H. L. B., Jr., 4-Lizzie C. Fowler, 4- Ella Piatt, 2-John R. Blake, 2- M. L. K., 5-" Georgia and Lee," -D. Lane, I-A. E.
B., 6-Violet, i-Hattie M. Houghton, 3-Lizzie H. D. St. Vrain, 9-Josie M., -W. C. Hawley, 4-John M. Gitterman, 2-"Tom,
Dick and Harry," 6-" Lou," 6- E. E. J, 3- Eleanor J. Nixon, 3- Robert Shaw Barlow, i-Belle Baldwin, 2- Charles E. Barrow, 5-
Grace Bigelow, 3-"Herbert," to--Richard Stockton, 6-Bessie and her Cousin, 8-"U. D.," 4-Gertrude H., 2-"Kismet," 3-
Marion S. Dumont, Grace, Hallie and Theodore Richmond, 6-P. S. Clarkson, 9-Dandelion and Clover, 3-Violet, 3- C. Turner,
ix- Floy Pauline Jones, i- Little May, 2- Edgar B. Harger, 5- Castor and Pollux," 0o- Pigtail," 4- Sicily," 6- Estelle Weiler,
2-" Fern-leaf," 3-Hadley B. Knighton and Lucy C. Gooch, 4-Bessie R. Babbitt, 2-"X. Y. Z.," -Mabel Hervey and Marita
Libby, 5-Conrad and Frank, 6-C. S., J. A. S., and M. F. S., 7-Will Ruter Springer, 6-Carol and her sisters, 2-Edward Vultee, 9-
Philip S. Carlton, 6- Durden," 3- Florence Leslie Kyte, 8-" Sid and I," 8. The numerals denote the number of puzzles solved.