Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Little Nellie in the prison
 Myrto's festival
 Meister Fick-Feck
 King Arthur and his knights of...
 A dear little goose - The floating...
 Lady Bertha
 Mystery in a mansion
 A yellow pansy - In nature's...
 Will o' the wisp
 A Christmas dinner with the man...
 The little kindergarten girl -...
 The miller of Dee
 Will Crocker and the buffaloes
 The St. Nicholas treasure-box of...
 Nurse's song
 Not so stupid as he seemed
 Seven little pussy-cats -...
 The governor's ball
 An aristocratic old gnu - Phaeton...
 The pedestrians
 The lamb of nod
 Kitty and Dodo
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover


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mods:accessCondition type restrictions on use displayLabel Rights All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
mods:identifier NOTIS ocm0176
OCLC 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
(DLC) 2006255186; 55136171
mods:languageTerm text English
mods:physicalLocation Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in Special Collections, George A. Smathers Libraries
code UF
mods:name personal
mods:namePart Dodge, Mary Mapes
date 1830-1905
mods:roleTerm authority marcrelator Creator
mods:note Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
funding Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
mods:publisher Scribner,
mods:placeTerm New York
mods:dateIssued 1880 December
mods:recordIdentifier source ufdc UF00065513_00095
mods:recordContentSource University of Florida
mods:relatedItem original
mods:extent 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
mods:title St. Nicholas
mods:detail Enum1
mods:caption Vol.8
mods:number 8
No. 2
mods:topic Children's literature
Literature for Children
Saint Nicholas
mods:typeOfResource text
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ufdc:Type Serial
ufdc:SerialHierarchy level 1 order 8 Vol.8
2 No. 2
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METS:structMap STRUCT1 mixed
D1 Front Cover
P1 Page
D31 Matter
D2 Little Nellie in the prison 3 Poem
P4 81
D3 Myrto's festival 4 Chapter
P6 83
P7 84
P8 85
P9 86
P10 87 5
D4 Meister Fick-Feck
P11 88
P12 89
D5 King Arthur and his knights round table 6
P13 90
P14 91
P15 92
P16 93
D6 A dear little goose 7
P18 95
P19 96
P20 97
P21 98
P22 99
P23 100
P24 101
P25 102 9
D7 Destiny
P26 103
D8 Lady Bertha
P27 104
P28 105
D9 Mystery a mansion 10
P29 106
P30 107
P31 108
P32 109
P33 110
D10 yellow pansy 11
P34 111
P35 112
P36 113
P37 114
P38 115
P39 116
D11 Will o' wisp 12
P40 117
D12 Christmas dinner with man moon 13
P41 118
P42 119
P43 120
P44 121
P45 122
P46 123
P47 124
P48 125
D13 The kindergarten girl 14
P49 126
P50 127
D14 miller Dee 15
P51 128
P52 129
P53 130
P54 131
P55 132
P56 133
P57 134
P58 135
D15 Crocker buffaloes 16
P59 136
P60 137
D16 St. treasure-box literature 17
P62 139
P63 140
P64 141
P65 142
P66 143
P67 144
P68 145
D17 Nurse's song 18
P61 138
D18 Not so stupid as he seemed 19
P69 146
P70 147
D19 Seven pussy-cats 20
P71 148
D20 governor's ball 21
P72 149
P73 150
P74 151
P75 152
D21 An aristocratic old gnu 22
P76 153
P77 154
P78 155
P79 156
P80 157
P81 158
P82 159
D22 pedestrians 23
P83 160
P84 161
D23 lamb nod 24
P85 162
P86 163
P87 164
P88 165
P89 166
P90 167
P91 168
P92 169
P93 170
D24 Jack-in-the-pulpit 25
P94 171
D25 Kitty Dodo 26
P95 172
P96 173
D26 letter-box 27
P97 174
D27 riddle-box 28
P98 175
P99 176
D28 29 Back
D29 30
D30 31 Spine
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Saint Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00095
 Material Information
Title: Saint Nicholas
Series Title: St. Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: 1880 December
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: UF00065513:00095

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Little Nellie in the prison
        Page 81
        Page 82
    Myrto's festival
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
    Meister Fick-Feck
        Page 88
        Page 89
    King Arthur and his knights of the round table
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
    A dear little goose - The floating prince
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
    Lady Bertha
        Page 104
        Page 105
    Mystery in a mansion
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
    A yellow pansy - In nature's wonderland
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
    Will o' the wisp
        Page 117
    A Christmas dinner with the man in the moon
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
    The little kindergarten girl - The games and toys of Corean children
        Page 126
        Page 127
    The miller of Dee
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
    Will Crocker and the buffaloes
        Page 136
        Page 137
    The St. Nicholas treasure-box of literature
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
    Nurse's song
        Page 138
    Not so stupid as he seemed
        Page 146
        Page 147
    Seven little pussy-cats - Dancing
        Page 148
    The governor's ball
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
    An aristocratic old gnu - Phaeton Rogers
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
    The pedestrians
        Page 160
        Page 161
    The lamb of nod
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
    Kitty and Dodo
        Page 172
        Page 173
    The letter-box
        Page 174
    The riddle-box
        Page 175
        Page 176
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text




VOL. VIII. DECEMBER, 1880. No. 2.

(Copyright, r880, by Scribner & Co.]



The eyes of a child are sweeter than any hymn we have sung,
And wiser than any sermon is the lisp of a childish tongue!

HUGH FALCON learned this happy truth one day;
('T was a fair noontide in the month of May)-
When, as the chaplain of the convicts' jail,
He passed its glowering archway, sad and pale,
Bearing his tender daughter on his arm.
A five years' darling she! The dewy charm
Of Eden star-dawns glistened in her eyes;
Her dimpled cheeks were rich with sunny dyes.

Papa!" the child that morn, while still abed,
Drawing him close toward her, shyly said;
Papa! oh, wont you let your Nellie go
To see those naughty men that plague you so,
Down in the ugly prison by the wood?
SPapa, I '11 beg and pray them to be good."
What, you, my child?" he said, with half a sigh.
Why not, papa? I 'll beg them so to try."

The chaplain, with a father's gentlest grace,
Kissed the small ruffled brow, the pleading face;
Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings still,
Praise is perfected," thought he; thus, his will
Blended with hers, and through those gates of sin,
Black, even at noontide, sire and child passed in.

Fancy the foulness of a sulphurous lake,
Wherefrom a lily's snow-white leaves should break,
Flushed by the shadow of an unseen rose !
So, at the iron gate's loud clang and close,
Shone the drear twilight of that place defiled,
Touched by the flower-like sweetness of the child!


O'er many a dismal vault, and stony floor,
The chaplain walked from ponderous door to door,
Till now beneath a stair-way's dizzy flight
He stood, and looked up the far-circling height;
But risen of late from fever's torture-bed,
How could he trust his faltering limbs and head ?

Just then, he saw, next to the mildewed wall,
A man in prisoner's raiment, gaunt and tall,
Of sullen aspect, and wan, downcast face,
Gloomed in the midnight of some deep disgrace;
He shrank as one who yearned to fade away,
Like a vague shadow on the stone-work gray,
Or die beyond it, like a viewless wind;
His seemed a spirit faithless, passionless, blind
To all fair hopes which light the hearts of men,-
A dull, dead soul, never to wake again!

The chaplain paused, half doubting what to do,
When little Nellie raised her eyes of blue,
And, no wise daunted by the downward stir
Of shaggy brows that glowered askance at her,
Said,-putting by her wealth of sunny hair,-
SSir, will you kindly take me up the stair ?
Papa is tired, and I 'm too small to climb."
Frankly her eyes in his gazed all the time,
And something to her childhood's instinct known
So worked within her, that her arms were thrown
About his neck. She left her sire's embrace
Near that sad convict-heart to take her place,
Sparkling and trustful!-more she did not speak;
But her quick fingers patted his swart cheek
Caressingly,-in time to some old tune
Hummed by her nurse, in summer's drowsy noon 1

Perforce he turned his wild, uncertain gaze
Down on the child! Then stole a tremulous haze
Across his eyes, but rounded not to tears;
Wherethrough he saw faint glimmerings of lost years
And perished loves! A cabin by a rill
Rose through the twilight on a happy hill;
And there were lithe child-figures at their play
That flashed and faded in the dusky ray;
And near the porch a gracious wife who smiled,
Pure as young Eve in Eden, unbeguiled!

Subdued, yet thrilled, 't was beautiful to see
With what deep reverence, and how tenderly,
He clasped the infant frame so slight and fair,
And safely bore her up the darkening stair!
The landing reached, in her arch, childish ease,
Our Nelly clasped his neck and whispered:
Wont you be good, sir? For I like you so,
And you are such a big, strong man, you know -"
With pleading eyes, her sweet face sidewise set.
Then suddenly his furrowed cheeks grew wet




With sacred tears-in whose divine eclipse
Upon her nestling head he pressed his lips
As softly as a dreamy west-wind's sigh,-
What time a something, undefined but high,
As 't were a new soul, struggled to the dawn
Through his raised eyelids. Thence, the gloom withdrawn
Of brooding vengeance and unholy pain,
He felt no more the captive's galling chain;
But only knew a little child had come
To smite Despair, his taunting demon, dumb;
A child whose marvelous innocence enticed
All white thoughts back, that from the heart of Christ
Fly dove-like earthward, past our clouded ken,
Child-life to bless, or lives of child-like men !

Thus he went his way,
An altered man from that thrice blessed day;
His soul tuned ever to the soft refrain
Of words once uttered in a sacred fane:
" The little children, let them come to me;
Of such as these my realm of heaven must be; "
But most he loved of one dear child to tell,
The child whose trust had saved him, tender Nell!



MYRTO'S festival was not a strawberry-festival to
be held in church parlors, for this was long, long
ago, about five centuries before the birth of Christ,
and in the beautiful but pagan city of Athens.
The magnificent temple of the Parthenon, the
rebuilding of which had occupied fifteen years, was
finished. It was on this account that the Panathe-
naea, the greatest celebration day of the Athenian
people (a festival dearer to their hearts than the
Fourth of July to American citizens), was to be
solemnized with more than usual pomp. There was
not a citizen, from the great governor Pericles down
to the poorest child, but looked forward with high
anticipation to the four days of the festival. Indeed,
Athens, at this time, was, in some respects, like
Philadelphia just before the Centennial.
Myrto was one of three adopted children, who had
been brought together from widely distant homes.
Cleis, eldest of the three, was almost sixteen; she
was quite a foreigner, having come from the Isle of
Lesbos, in the .Egean Sea. She was never merry;
her eyes seemed always looking far away, perhaps
across the sea to her Lesbian home, or else away to
the hills where the immortals dwelt, for Cleis was
the child of song, a descendant of the poetess

Sappho. Charmides, a sturdy Dorian boy, was from
Sparta; he was fifteen, strong as a young Hercules,
but agile as strong; brave, generous, and truthful.
Myrto was fourteen; a sensitive, loving girl, from
the pleasure-loving city of Corinth. They had
been adopted by a wealthy and kind-hearted man
named Ischomachus. Let us imagine ourselves in
the inner court of his house; there are beds of
flowers surrounding a small fountain, and the rest
of the space is paved with a mosaic of white and
dark marble. The walls are painted in fresco, and
the court is open to the sky. Cleis, leaning on the
basin of the fountain, is feeding the fishes, while
Myrto bends over her embroidery-frame.
Myrto Myrto exclaimed Cleis, impatiently,
"why do you work so busily in the time the Mother
gives us for recreation ?"
"Because," replied Myrto, "I have a little
scheme which I shall tell you about after the fes-
tival; perhaps you will help me in it."
Not if it is embroidery, or spinning; you know I
detest work of that kind. But why does not Char-
mides return? The exercises at the gymnasium
must have closed long since. Ah here he is."
Charmides bounded into the court, exclaiming:





"Where is Ischomachus, where is the Mother ?
I have been chosen to compete in the games Oh,
Cleis! I don't see why girls are not taught gym-
nastics here, as in Sparta. I knew several there
who could leap farther than I. There was one
game in which they represented a stag-hunt. The
one who could leap the highest, and run the fastest,
was the stag, and the rest gave chase, with their
hair flying behind them."
Cleis's lip curled scornfully. I do not envy

such rough play, but I should like to compete in
poetry and literature. How glorious it would be
to write like the young Euripides Myrto, do you
remember when they played his Alcestis ?"
"Oh, yes," spoke up Charmides; "that part
where Hercules breaks into the house of mourning
and makes such a jolly row, scolds every one for
wearing a solemn face, and keeps calling for re-
freshments; and then, like the true old hero he
is, fights a duel with Death, and brings Alcestis
back to her husband. There is a boy at our gym-
nasium who can't bear what Euripides writes; his

name is Aristophanes. You would like him, Myrto,
he is a very funny boy, he mimics everything. You
should have heard him recite his song of the frogs.
How we shouted! We promised to crown him poet
some day."
The days before the Panathenaea seemed, to the
children, to hardly move. But at last the great
festival came. There were exercises of wrestling,
and races in the stadium. In one of these, Char-
mides won great distinction by leaping from a

chariot, running by the side of the horses for a
long distance, and then remounting with a
bound. Then there were the recitations of poems,
the musical exercises, and dances at the Odeon,
and finally, on the fourth day, the procession.
All the citizens met in the Ceramicus, or potters'
quarter, and marched out to Eleusis, a town to the
north of Athens, and making the circuit of a very
large temple in honor of Ceres, returned to Athens,
halting at the Areopagus, or Mars' Hill, where, later,
St. Paul made a memorable address. Then the
people mounted by an immense marble staircase to




'- -


the Acropolis, a high hill on which were crowded were not all negroes. A few of them had been
the principal temples of Athens, the chief of which brought from Egypt, but most were people of
was the Parthenon, which had just been completed northern tribes, captured in battle; fair-skinned
in honor of Pallas. In this procession the old men and blue-eyed, intelligent as the Greeks, of
led, bearing branches of trees; next followed the different nations, but all classed together as bar-
young girls of noble families, bearing a beautiful barians.
crocus-colored mantle, richly embroidered, for the This was why Myrto had worked so steadily.
statue of Pallas. Next came the deputations from She was fashioning a robe in imitation of the
allied cities, the distinguished guests," as we one which had been borne to the goddess. The
should say nowadays. Then more people with of- wife of Ischomachus, pleased with the child's
ferings, and the athletes on horses or in chariots, fancy, helped her; and she had one other friend-
which must have been left at the foot of the stair- Philip the Pedagogue-who joined heartily in her
case, and then the great mass of the people. At plans to give the slave children one happy holiday.
last they reached the Parthenon, decorated with He had been seized when a young man by the
sculptures from the studio of Phidias. The frieze piratical slave-dealers of Chios, and sold to Ischo-
is now in the British Museum, brought there, from machus, who had allowed him to study, and now
Greece, by Lord Elgin. And what do you imagine it intrusted to him the education of the children.
represents? What but
this very same joyous '
festival procession, just ,' c
as I have explained it to i'[
you. The building must
have been a marvel of
beauty when first com- .
pleted, and within was "" ,' i L" '," '_
the exquisite ivory statue 1
of the goddess at whose V.--" '''' -
feet they now laid their I.! -- .i' i
offerings. I .... '. r .- / '. .- .- '
Only one class of peo-' '
pie in the whole city A.-- %- ,
took no part in the cere- QpLv- -i \W r 3w'8o 7,
monies. The slaves '
had nothing to do with ) ..
the Athenians' religion ~-. -
or the Athenians' pleas- ,.
ures. Little Myrto pitied i -- T
them from her heart. I '
Ischomachus owned a i 1 '
great many, who were
employed upon his es- k. l -- .
tate on Mount Hymet-
a part of the year at this country-seat, and Philip was the soul of honor. There was one line
Myrto determined that the children of the slaves from Menander which he was never tired of quoting:
should have their Panathenaa, too. These slaves Serve like a freeman-thou shalt be no slave !"







And yet Myrto, who had heard him speak of his which Charmides had learned long before in Sparta,
mother, knew that he longed to return to her. in which the combatants struck, warded off, re-
She asked Ischomachus for what he would consent treated, rallied, and fell as though wounded. The


to ransom the pedagogue, and he had agreed to do
so for two minas-about forty dollars of our money.
The day for her festival arrived. For hours after
dawn, elegant chariots bringing guests from Athens,
and the occupants of the neighboring villas, on
horseback and on foot, poured in a continuous
stream to the country house of Ischomachus.
Myrto showed them to cushioned seats under a
vine-canopied pavilion, on the ground in front of
which sat the slaves. A grassy lawn stretched be-
fore them, and here the boys, trained by Charmi-
des, performed various feats of jumping, running,
and wrestling. Refreshments were passed to the
guests, and the drama of the day, arranged by
Cleis and Philip, was acted by the children of the
The play was a burlesque called The Battle of
Frogs and Mice." Charmides had obtained from
a chorus-master in Athens a quantity of masks
shaped like the heads of frogs and mice. These
were worn by the children, the mice being further
distinguished by gray tunics, and the frogs by
mantles of green.
After a variety of amusing scenes, a mimic battle
took place between the frogs and mice, an exercise

mice were victorious, and it was only through the
re-enforcement of a platoon of cuirassiers-boys
dressed to represent crabs-that the frogs were
able to make an orderly retreat to their pond.
After the acting of the drama, the procession was
formed, Cleis and Charmides, crowned with laurel,
leading the way, two little slaves :. .11i:, i, _. bearing
the lavender-colored robe, with its narrow border
of gold, which Myrto had embroidered, and which
was to be sold to the highest bidder. Next came
the invited guests, as "foreign deputations," bear-
ing their offerings-pieces of money, vases, scarfs,
and caskets. After them came the long procession
of slaves, no one so mean but he had his offering,
too,-a little pot of honey, a basket of figs or
pomegranates, a snared bird, a little cake. They
marched to the door-way of the mansion, which
was supported by two columns, one in the Doric
and the other in the Ionic style, and on these
Myrto had requested that the names of the two
victors, Cleis and Charmides, should be carved.
This was now done with great ceremony. The
capitals were wreathed with laurel and myrtle, and
libations poured upon the door-sill between them.
Ischomachus said there should have been a third

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c.) um, l. t h imi r .: t 1 -lIa, .A1i [,'.," _,ol
thtre .'.a -t r ]i. o r I, I li hn It .: u .] ,.r ,r ,

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ats. r r,,r a ii..n .

in P hi th, p r, ,n-e r .. I .. ... _-. h a
f I r:, :i p \,nd p. I ..- ,.f ih..r. ,,1 h P e....il .i .rij


er lit -,. .. ., .. 4 | i

S a ths hpeand i n be
t, I I A r .- ..- .& -a
rlhe nti citroin gtlu.ad. I ut. their po g,-, pyst.' .e

among them, which took root, and
Sits graceful leaves shot from the
to open spaces of the basket work,

ress was stopped by the tile, when
they curved as gracefully down-
ward. A Greek architect, Cal-
limachus, saw this, aind from it
I Invented the Corinthian capital, the
I Third order of classical architecture.
Pi Philip, returning to Athens to
visit the family of his former m as-
ter, heard this story, and begged
to be allowed to erect a third col-
Eumn, to Myrto's memory, beside
TH CORINTHIN, IONIC, AND DORIC COLUNS. upgrowing upward until their prog-day.

The three capitals still remain,
her native city, Corinth. We are told that a slave representing even in their ruin, physical, mental,
placed upon her grave a basket of flowers, with a and moral beautyrd; a poem without words, the
tile upon the top to protect them from the sun. A history of three lives, and the principles which they
tile upon the top to protect them from the sun. A history of three lives, and the principles which they


expressed, told simply by a different combination
of carven curves.
Something of this hidden lesson of human life,
the many wise architects and lovers of antiquity,
who have studied these different capitals, have
guessed. A poet named Thomson, too, seems to
have understood the meanings which these three
beautiful styles of column convey, when he wrote:

First unadorned,
And nobly plain, the manly Doric rose;
The Ionic then, with decent matron grace,
Her airy pillar heaved; luxuriantly last,
The rich Corinthian spread her wanton wreath."
But in spite of its having lain for ages like an
open book before the eyes of architects, antiqua-
rians, and poets, you children are the first to hear
the story of Myrto's festival.



You all have heard of the beautiful river Rhine,
that has its birth in the mighty Alps, and comes
from its snowy, rocky cradle a strong young river,
hastening on like the heart of a boy impatient to
seek his fortunes. It has a pleasant road, and
foams and dashes along, now blue, now green, now
silver, its waters singing on its way past olden city,
I.:.-l,: i,! i .:, vine-covered height, castle-crowned
rock, deep forest, golden I.:.. and crumbling
ruin, on and ever on, until at its full growth it
reaches the sea.
There are many strange stories told about it and
the many mountains and villages that lie along its
banks. There is one with the funny title of Meis-
ter Fick-feck."
"Who was Meister Fick-feck? you ask.
Well, he belonged to the race of dwarfs, and
lived in among the Rhine Mountains. He was
never seen by the villagers, and yet he was well
known for miles around, and the people all came
to him, or rather to the crevice of the rock where
he lived, and called out to him, Ho, ho, Meister
Fick-feck and always he answered their call.
He was a very obliging dwarf, and heard and re-
lieved all the wants of the poor villagers whocame
to him with their troubles. The maidens begged
him for some trinket or ribbon, the boys for a boat,
a kite, or a gun, the men for help in their fields or
the shop, the women for the weaving of linen or
spinning of wool; and always, on the following
day, they found their requests granted. On the
mountain before the cave lay the gifts for the
maidens; the boy found the boat on the river, the
blacksmith the horses shod, the miller his meal
ground, the farmer his field plowed, the house-
wives their spinning and weaving all done.
If a little one was baptized in the village, it was
Meister Fick-feck who gave the christening robe.
If the young girl grew tired of spinning, and
dropped asleep over the spinnet, when she awak-

ened she found the work completed, and with a
laugh, said, "Thanks to Fick-feck, my work is
done He helped with the wine in the wine
season, cleared the paths in the winter time, and
made the children happy with wonderful dolls,
fifes, trumpets, and comical toys. He gave wed-
ding garments for the bridal pair, and even shrouds
for the burial, when the aged people of the village
His work was never finished, for the peasants
had always some new task for him to do, and stood
early and late before his door in the mountain.
They were grateful, these poor people, for all his
goodness to them, and one day they talked among
themselves as to how they could reward him.
There was a great debate about it, and finally they
agreed that it would be best to ask the dwarf what
he would like to have; so, accordingly, they went
up to the mountain and called out: "Ho, ho,
Meister Fick-feck! We want to make you a pres-
ent. What will you have ?"
Then one offered wine of the choicest vintage,
but the voice of the dwarf said, I drink no wine."
Another proffered him a fat calf, another a lamb;
but no, he ate neither veal nor lamb cutlets, but at
last he modestly said that he would like a suit of
clothes such as were worn by men.
Then the people gladly cried: "A suit thou
shalt have, Meister Fick-feck," and left the mount-
ain in great haste to give the order. They told the
tailor he must fashion a right royal suit for the
dwarf. They cared not for the expense. The coat
must be made of bright blue velvet, the knee-
breeches of scarlet satin, and the vest of yellow
silk, embroidered with different colors. A chapeat
with a waving plume completed this wonderful
When it was finished, the entire village took a
holiday, and formed a procession with flutes and
pipes, festal wreaths and crowns, and trudged up




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the mountain, where they halted before the rocky
door of the dwarf's dwelling, sang a song of thanks
and honor, laid down the splendid costume, and
went to their homes.
The next day, however, they came again, with
even more favors to ask than formerly, feeling sure
that they would be granted by Fick-feck, in his joy
over the gorgeous attire they had given him.

rock: Ei-ei; pack off, each one of you, and ask
no more of me; and while the peasants stared with
open eyes and mouths, the voice came again: "Go
each to your work. I am free from my bond-
age, and henceforth shall lead a gay life, as befits a
courtier. My work is all finished. I am dressed
like a gentleman, and henceforth will live at ease.
The former Meister Fick-feck' bids you farewell."'






IT is now about seven hundred and thirty years
ago that a remarkable book suddenly appeared in
England, which, under the rather commonplace
name of "History of the Britons," professed to
give an account of a number of ancient British
kings living both before and after Christ, who had
never been heard of in history before.
One of these kings was Arthur, whose advent-
ures, under the advice of his prophet, Merlin, and
with the help of his special company of knights,
were set forth with much fullness. Its author,
Geoffrey of Monmouth,-who, I think, would feel
obliged if you would not pronounce his name
Gee-of-frey, as does a young lady of my acquaint-
ance, but plain Jeffrey,-claimed to have trans-
lated a Welsh book, which a friend had brought him,
and which contained the histories of these kings.
Whether Geoffrey's story of the Welsh book was
true or not-a point on which the world divided in
his own day, and has never yet come together-
really makes little difference. Here, at any rate,
the story of King Arthur got fairly into literature
for the first time. Writers from every side took up
the Arthurian story, retold it in prose and verse,
changed it, added to it, and in various ways worked
upon it, until finally five great romances, besides
a host of smaller ones, grew up, which far outran
Geoffrey's original, and which continued the delight
of Europe for three hundred years. Not that they
ceased then; but they began a fresh career, with
the invention of printing.
About the time when King Richard III. cast
the little princes, his nephews, into the Tower,
and while the Wars of the Roses were still smol-
dering, it happened one day that some English
gentlemen asked sturdy old William Caxton,-who
had recently set up the first printing-press in Eng-
land, at Westminster Abbey,-why, among the
books he was sending forth, he had not printed the
famous history of King Arthur? At other times the
question was repeated; and upon looking about for
a suitable work on this subject to print, it was found
that some years before-about 1469 or 1470-
an English knight named Sir Thomas Malory had
collected the five great "Romances" just now
mentioned, cut out part, added much, re-arranged
the whole, and made it into one continuous story,
or novel, all centering about the court of King
Arthur, and ending with the mournful wars
between him and Sir Launcelot on the one side, and
Sir Mordred on the other, in which the great king

is finally killed, and the Round Table is broken
up forever.
This book Caxton printed, finishing it, as he tells
us, on the last day of July, 1485; and it is this
book which now, nearly four hundred years after-
ward, has been reprinted in an edition for boys,
from which the engravings accompanying this
sketch are taken.
It is, therefore, with the pleasant sense of intro-
ducing an old English classic to young English
readers that I comply with the request of the editor
of ST. NICHOLAS for some account of Sir Thomas
Malory's book, which may bring it before younger
minds than those for whom the introduction to the
work itself was written.
Before giving some sample stories out of Sir
Thomas, it is well to have a clear understanding
of the idea upon which it is plain that all his tales
are strung, like necklace-beads on a golden wire.
This idea is chivalry.
The first principle, we may say, of the old-time
chivalry was the tender protection of weakness; and
such we may fairly call the main motive which holds
together all the people about King Arthur; the
protection of the weak. That is the ideal business
of the knight-errant. When the young cavalier
rides forth on a bright morning, all armed, and
singing, his jousts and fights with those whom he
meets, even if their direct object is not the succor
of some distress, are considered by him as mere
training and exercise for helpful deeds; and if
he tries, in the old phrase, "to win worship"
("worship being a short way of saying worth-
ship, that is, the esteem of worthiness), his worship
is always at the service of helplessness.
You can now, perhaps, more clearly understand
what is really beneath all this stir of battle and ad-
venture in Sir Thomas's book. The general sweep
of the story, as he has put it together, is this: Old
King Uther Pendragon having died, there is trouble
who shall be king in his place. During this trouble,
one day, a stone appears with a sword sticking in it;
and who can draw out that sword from the stone,
he shall be king. Many try, and fail; until atlast
a boy named Arthur, who has been brought up by
the prophet Merlin, and who is (though not so
known) really the son of Uther, takes the sword by
the hilt and draws it out with ease. He becomes
King Arthur, and straightway gathers about him a
company of strong and faithful knights, who form
a brilliant court, around which all the adventures




of the time thereafter seem to turn. The story
now for a while goes mainly upon Sir Launcelot
of the Lake, the strongest knight of the world;
and many wild adventures of his are related.
The main figure then, for a little while, becomes
one Sir Gareth, of Orkney, who was nicknamed
Beaumains. He comes one day in disguise to
Arthur's court, and begs to be allowed to serve in
Arthur's kitchen for a year. Unheeding the scorn-
ful jokes of the by-standers, he passes his year in the
kitchen; but he is always at hand when any deed of
arms is going on about the palace. At the end of
the year, a person in distress appears one day at
Arthur's palace, and asks that some knight will
undertake a desperate enterprise. Beaumains begs
the honor; and, amid many jeers, for many days,
always scorned and flouted, fights battle after
battle, with knight after knight, conquers them, and
binds them to appear at King Arthur's court on a
certain time, as his prisoners, and finally wins such
worship that all jeers are silenced, and he is
triumphantly made Knight of the Round Table.
We are now introduced to a new hero, Sir Tris-
tram de Lyonesse, who is beset with the toils of the
ungrateful and treacherous King Mark of Cornwall,
and by many wanderings and adventures comes to
King Arthur's court, where he is made Knight of
the Round Table, and is the strongest knight of all
the world save Sir Launcelot. A great change here
comes upon the story. It is noised that the Holy
Cup called the Saint Grail," in which the blood
of the Savior was said to have been caught as it
flowed, had been preserved by Joseph of Arimathea,
and is now in England, full of miraculous powers.
At this, all the knights depart in search of it, and
we have the wonderful adventures of the famous
" Quest of the Saint Grail," during which Sir Gala-
had, the purest knight of the whole world, comes
upon the scene, with the gentle and winning Sir
Percival. Sir Galahad finds the Holy Grail, and
dies soon afterward; the knights-those who are
left alive-return to King Arthur's court, and he,
who had spent his days in sorrowful foreboding ever
since they departed, dreams again of renewing his
old brilliant Round Table. But a shadow soon
darkens the court, and presently overglooms all.
Queen Guenever makes a great banquet to the
returned knights, and all is merry until suddenly a
knight tastes of an apple and falls down dead. The
kinsmen of that knight accuse the queen of poison-
ing him; and she is condemned to be burnt, unless
by a certain day a champion appear to prove her
innocence by the gage of battle. The day comes,
the stake and fire are made ready; but Sir Launce-
lot in disguise dashes into the lists and defeats her
accuser. Nevertheless, treachery and discord are
now at work; Sir Mordred is plotting; Sir Gawaine

conceives a violent hatred against Sir Launcelot;
King Arthur allows Sir Gawaine to lead him; and
presently we have the forces of King Arthur besieg-
ing Sir Launcelot in his castle of Joyous Gard; the
talk over the walls here, between Sir Launcelot and
Sir Gawaine; the magnificent control of Sir
Launcelot, who ever tries to avoid the war; the
patient goodliness with which he reasons away the
taunts of Gawaine and the king; the care with
which he instructs his knights and soldiers to do no
harm to King Arthur, on pain of death; and the
tender loyalty with which, one day, he himself res-
cues King Arthur, who has been hurt and thrown,
sets the king on horseback, and conducts him into
safety; all these are here told with such simple art
and strength as must strike the soul of every reader,
old and young. Finally, King Arthur, after twice
levying war upon Sir Launcelot, is recalled by the
treachery of Sir Mordred, whom he left in charge of
the kingdom, but who has taken advantage of his
absence to seize the realm into his own hands, and
is even trying to compel Queen Guenever to be his
wife. Many battles follow, until, in a great final
struggle, Arthur is wounded to death, in the act of
killing Mordred; and the scene closes with the
pathetic and beautiful departure of Sir Launcelot
from this world; who, with some old companions
that remained, had become holy men after the
death of their king, and served God until He took
them to Him.
In the two engravings given herewith, the artist
has very pleasantly endeavored to make us eye-
witnesses of at least the critical moments in some
of the adventures with which our History of King
Arthur" overflows; and I cannot do better than
give you, in Sir Thomas's own words, as far as
possible, an outline of the stories thus illustrated.
In looking, then, at the picture called Sir Ector
and Sir Turquine," please fancy that, on a certain
morning, Sir Launcelot finds that he has rested
and played long enough at court since the great
Roman victories of King Arthur, and, turning his
back upon the gay life there, sets forth, with his
nephew Sir Lionel, through forest and plain, upon
knight-errantry. The two straightway fall into
adventures enough; but meantime Sir Ector, with
whom we are here concerned, discovering that Sir
Launcelot has left the court, through great love
and anxiety hurries forth after him, to help him, if
need be. Then," says Sir Thomas, "when Sir
Ector had ridden long in a great forest, he met
with a man that was like a forester. 'Fair sir,'
said Sir Ector, knowest thou in this country any
adventures that be here nigh-hand ?'
"'Sir,' said the forester, 'this country know I
well, and hereby within this mile is a strong manor
and well dyked' (that is, moated), and by that






manor, on the left hand, there is a fair ford for ing there the shield of his brother, Sir Lionel. He
horses to drink of, and over that ford there growth is inflamed to right this matter. Then anon Sir
a fair tree, and thereon hangeth many fair shields, Ector beat on the bason as he were wood (that is,
which have been conquered from good knights; crazy), "and then he gave his. horse drink at the
ford; and there came a knight
behind him and bade him come
- out of the water and make him
ready; and Sir Ector turned him
Shortly, and in rest cast his
spear, and smote the other knight
a great buffet that his horse
--r. -"turned twice about. 'This was
well done,' said the strong
.- knight, 'and knightly thou hast
} .stricken me'; and therewith he
rushed his horse on Sir Ector,
and caught him under his right
arm, and bare him clean out of
his saddle "-as you see in the
engraving-" and rode with him
away into his own hall, and
threw him down in the midst of
the floor. The name of this
knight was Sir Turquine." It
is not long, however, before Sir
Launcelot, after passing through
many toils and enchantments,-
spread about him by four queens
who had taken him sleeping,-
fares hither, defeats the strong
Sir Turquine in a terrible fight,
and delivers Sir Ector, along
with a great number of prisoned
In another engraving, called
Sir Beaumains and the Black
Knight," we have one of the
numerous encounters in the long
series which was undertaken for
.- a damsel by our Sir Gareth of
Orkney, already mentioned in
the general sketch. He had been
nicknamed Beaumains by Sir
Kay, for the largeness of his
: hands; but with incredible meek-
ness, long-suffering, strength,
and valor, he made the name one
SIR .... A-ND-- -SR- of the most honorable at Arthur's
SIR ECTOR AND SIR TURQUINE. court. After riding forth with the
and at the hollow of the tree hangeth a bason of damsel upon her adventure; after overcoming
copper; strike upon that bason with the butt of thy several knights; after enduring the bitter tongue
spear thrice, and soon after thou shalt hear new of the very damsel he is fighting for, who ever
tidings.' Sir Ector thanks him, and, upon riding chides him as a base "kitching-knave," better
up to the tree, finds it all be-hung with shields, among pots and pans than swords and armor : one
which some victorious knight has won from their day, Beaumains "rode with that lady till even-song
owners and thus displayed. Upon looking more time "-vespers-" and ever she chid him, and
closely, Sir Ector is stricken with grief to see hang- would not rest. And then they came to a black


lawn, and there was a black hawthorn, and thereon
hung a black banner, and on the other side there
hung a black shield, and by it stood a black spear,
great and long, and a great black horse covered
with silk, and a black stone fast by. There sat a
knight all armed in black harness, and his name
was 'The Knight of the Black Lawn.'" The
damsel advises Beaumains to flee. 'Gramercy,'"
says Beaumains, and quietly holds his ground. The
Black Knight asks if this is the damsel's champion.
" 'Nay, fair knight,'" said she, 'this is but a

nought; and whether it like thee or not, this lawn
will I pass maugre' (in spite of) 'thine head;
and horse nor harness gettest thou none of me, but
if thou win them with thy hands ; and therefore let
see what thou canst do.'" Then they departed
with their horses, and came together as it had been
the thunder; and the Black Knight's spear broke,
and Beaumains thrust his through both his sides, and
therewith his spear broke, and the truncheon left
still in the side. But nevertheless, the Black
Knight drew his sword and smote many eager

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kitchen-knave, that was fed in King Arthur's
kitchen for alms.'" Thereupon, after some talk
with the damsel, the Black Knight concludes to be
merciful to the kitchen-knave, and says: This
much shall I grant you. I shall put him down upon
one foot, and his horse and his harness' (his har-
ness is his armor) shall he leave with me, for it
were shame to me to do him any more harm.'" But
Beaumains, the kitchen-knave, is not so minded.
" Sir knight,' he says, and one can easily enough
fancy that his chin is a little in the air, and his neck-
muscle straight, and his voice marvelous low and
steady,-" Sir knight, thou art full liberal of my
horse and harness; I let thee know it cost thee

strokes-one of which strokes the Black Knight,
with the truncheon sticking in his side, is just de-
livering upon Beaumains's shield, in the picture-
"and hurt Beaumains full sore." The battle, how-
ever is won, after great tribulation, by Beaumains;
who then goes on to many adventures, still reason-
ing away the bitter scoldings of the damsel, until
finally-as he had announced at starting-he wins
worship worshipfully," marries a fair bride won in
the course of his adventures, and has all men to
his friends.
And so runs the record of numberless like
adventures, until those last days when the fair fel-
lowship ends with the death of King Arthur.





BY M. M. D.


WHILE I 'm in the ones, I can frolic all the day;
I can laugh, I can jump, I can run about and play.
But when I 'm in the tens, I must get up with the lark,
And sew, and read, and practice, from early morn till dark.

When I 'm in the twenties, I 'I be like Sister Joe;
I '11 wear the sweetest dresses (and, may be, have a beau !)
I '11 go to balls and parties, and wear my hair up high,
And not a girl in all the town shall be as gay as I.

When I 'm in the thirties, I '11 be just like Mamma;
And, may be, I '11 be married to a splendid big papa.
I '11 cook, and bake, and mend, and mind, and grow a little fat-
But Mother is so sweet and nice, I '11 not object to that.

Oh, what comes after thirty? The forties! Mercy, my!
When I grow as old as forty, I think I '11 have to die.
But like enough the world wont last until we see that day;-
It's so very, very, very, very, VERY far away!



THERE was once an orphan prince, named
Nassime, who had been carefully educated to take
his place upon the throne of his native country.
Everything that a king ought to know had been
taught him, and he was considered, by the best
judges, to be in every way qualified to wear a
crown and to wield a scepter.
But when he became of age, and was just about
to take his place upon the throne, a relative, of
great power and influence in the country, concluded
that he would be king himself, and so the young

prince was thrown out upon the world. The new
king did not want him in his dominions, and it was
therefore determined, by his teachers and guard-
ians, that he would have to become a "floating
prince." By this, they meant that he must travel
about, from place to place, until he found some
kingdom which needed a king, and which was wil-
ling to accept him to rule over it. If such a situ-
ation were vacant, he easily could obtain it.
He was therefore furnished with a new suit of
clothes and a good sword; a small crown and a




scepter were packed into his bag; and he was
started out to seek his fortune, as best he could.
As the prince walked away from the walls of his
native city, he felt quite down-hearted, although
he was by nature gay and hopeful. He did not
believe that he could find any country which would
want him for a ruler.
That is all nonsense," he said to himself.
" There are always plenty of heirs or usurpers
to take a throne when it is empty. If I want a
kingdom, I must build up one for myself, and that
is just what I will do. I will gather together my
subjects as I go along. The first person I meet
shall be my chief councilor of state, the second
shall be head of the army, the third shall be admiral
of the navy, the next shall be chief treasurer, and
then I will collect subjects of various classes."
Cheered by this plan, he stepped gayly on, and
just as he was entering a wood, through which his
pathway led him, he heard some one singing.
Looking about him, he saw a little lady, about
five inches high, sitting upon a twig of a flowering
bush near by, and singing to herself. Nassime
instantly perceived that she was a fairy, and said
to himself: Oho I did not expect a meeting of
this sort." But as he was a bold and frank young
fellow, he stepped up to her and said: Good-
morning, lady fairy. How would you like to be
chief councilor to a king ? "
"It would be splendid said the lively little
fairy, her eyes sparkling with delight. But where
is the king?"
"I am the king," said Nassime, or, rather, I
am to be, as soon as I get my kingdom together."
And then he told her his story and his plans.
The fairy was charmed. The plan suited her exactly.
"You might get a larger councilor than I am,"
she said, "but I know a good deal about govern-
ment. I have been governed ever so much, and I
could not help learning how it is done. I 'm glad
enough to have a chance to help somebody govern
other people. I '11 be your chief councilor."
"All right," said the prince, who was much
pleased with the merry little creature. "Now
we '11 go and hunt up the rest of the kingdom."
He took the little fairy in his hand and placed
her in one of the folds of his silken girdle, where
she could rest, as if in a tiny hammock, and then
he asked her name.
"My name," she answered, "is Lorilla, chief
councilor of the kingdom of-what are you going
to call your kingdom ? "
Oh, I have n't thought of a name, yet."
Let it be Nassimia, after yourself," said Lorilla.
Very well," answered the prince, we will call
it Nassimia. That will save trouble and disputes,
after the kingdom is established."

Nassime now stepped along quite briskly, talking
to his little companion as he went, and explaining
to her his various ideas regarding his future king-
dom. Suddenly he stumbled over what he supposed
was the trunk of a fallen tree, and then he was.
quickly raised into the air, astride of the supposed
tree-trunk, which seemed to have a hinge in it.
What now ? said a great voice, and the prince
perceived that he was sitting on the knee of a giant,
who had been lying on his back in the wood.
"Don't be afraid," said Lorilla, looking out of
her little hammock. He wont hurt you."
"Excuse me," said the prince, "I did not see
you, or I should have been more careful. How
would you like to be general of the army of the
kingdom of Nassimia ? "
That sounds splendidly cried little Lorilla.
The giant looked bewildered. He could not
understand, at all, what the prince was talking
about. But when Nassime explained it all to him,
he said he would like very well to be head general
of the army, and he accepted the position.
Rising to his feet, the giant offered to carry the
prince on his arm, so that they could get along
faster, and in this way they traveled, all discussing,.
with much zest, the scheme of the new kingdom.
About noon, they began to be hungry, and so
they sat down in a shady place, the giant having
said that he had something to eat in a bag which
he carried at his side. He opened this bag, and
spread out half a dozen enormous loaves of bread,
two joints of roast meat, a boiled ham, and about
a bushel of roasted potatoes.
Is that the food for your whole army?" asked
Oh, no," answered the giant, who was a young
fellow with a good appetite. "I brought this for
myself, but there will be enough for you two. I
don't believe I should have eaten it quite all, any-
I should hope not," said the prince. Why,
that would last me several weeks."
"And me a thousand years," said Lorilla.
You will talk differently, if you ever grow to be
as big as I am," said the giant, smiling, as he took
a bite from a loaf of bread.
When the meal was over, they all felt refreshed,
and quite eager to meet the next comer, who was
to be the admiral, or commander of the navy, of the
new kingdom. For some time, they went on
without seeing any one, but, at last, they perceived,.
in a field at some distance, a man on stilts. He
was tending sheep, and wore the stilts so that he
could the better see his flock, as it wandered about.
"There 's the admiral!" said the giant. "Let
me put you down, and run over and catch him."
So saying, he set the prince on the ground, and




ran toward the shepherd, who, seeing him coming,
at once took to flight. His stilts were so long
that he made enormous steps, and he got over
the ground very fast. The giant
had long legs, and he ran swift-
ly, but he had a great deal of
trouble to get near the man on
.stilts, who dodged in every di-
rection, and rushed about like
.an enormous crane. The poor _
-frightened sheep scattered them- ---
selves over the fields, and hid in -
the bushes.
At last, the giant made a vig-
orous dash, and swooping his
long arm around, he caught the
shepherd by one stilt, and wav-
ing him around his head, shout-
ed in triumph.
The prince and Lorilla, who
had been watching this chase
with great interest, cheered in THE
Now we have an admiral," said the fairy, as
the giant approached, proudly bearing the shep-
herd aloft. Don't you think it would be well for
you to get out your crown and scepter ? He ought
to understand, at once, that you are the king."
So Nassime took his crown and scepter from his
bag, and putting the first on his head, held the
other in his hand. He looked quite kingly when
the giant came up, and set the shepherd down on


"Admiral?" cried the poor frightened man.
"I don't understand."
Oh, it's all right," exclaimed the merry little


/ ~ ~~~ *-.2^^-
,^ ?^J 5?


. *.' '- ..
........ .. .- .--// ,~ ,,t .


;. ".'. ,
..... 1 1; ',


Lorilla, as she slipped out of the prince's sash, and
ran up to the shepherd. "We 're going to have
a splendid kingdom, and we 're just getting to-
gether the head officers. I 'm chief councilor, that
giant is the general of the army, and we want you
to command the navy. There '11 be a salary, after
a while, and I know you '11 like it."
When she went on to explain the whole matter
to the shepherd, his fear left him, and he smiled.
I shall be very
glad to be your
admiral," he then
2,1 said, to the prince,
whereupon the gi-
ant lifted him up

1' on his feet, or
/ 'rather on to the
/ stilts, which were
Strapped to his
feet and ankles,
Sand the affair was
settled. The party
h c', o now went on, the
T.'- giant and man on
.- .. stilts side by side,
SI a.m... g t .. he prince on the
giant's arm, and
..'W-'w. *. I. ., Lorilla in Nassi-
me's sash.
his knees before him, with his stilts sticking out great officer must we have ?" asked she of Nassime.
-ever so far behind. The chief officer of the treasury, or chancellor
I am glad to see you," said the prince, "and of the exchequer. I see him now."
I herewith make you admiral of my royal navy." It was true. Along a road in a valley below



~'I' t



them, a man was walking. Instantly all were ex-,
cited. The giant and the man on stilts wished to
run after the new-comer, but the prince forbade it,
saying it would be better to approach him quietly.
The man, who halted when he saw them, proved
to be a clam-digger, with his clam-rake over
one shoulder, and a large basket in his hand.
The prince did not waste many words with
this person, who was a rather humble-minded
man, but briefly explained the situation to
him, and told him that he was now the
chancellor of the exchequer, in charge of
the treasury of the kingdom of Nassimia.
The man, remarking that he saw no ob-
jection to such a position, and that it might,
in the end, be better than clam-digging,
joined the prince's party, which again pro-
ceeded on its way.
That night, they all slept in a palm-grove,
first making a supper of cocoa-nuts, which
the giant and the admiral picked from the
tops of the trees.
Now, then," said Nassime, in the morn-
ing, "what we must have next, is an aris-
tocracy. Out of this upper class, we can -
then fill the government offices."
"Very true," said the giant, and we
shall want an army. I do not feel altogether
like a general, without some soldiers under
"And I must have a navy," said the ad-
"And there must be common people,"
remarked the chancellor of the exchequer.
" For we shall need some folks on whom I
can levy taxes with which to carry on the
"You are all right," said. Nassime, "and
this is the way we will manage matters. All
the people we meet to-day shall be the aris-
tocrats of Nassimia; all we meet to-morrow
shall form the army, and all we see the next
day shall be taken to make up the navy.
After that, we will collect common people,
until we have enough."
I can tell you now," said the admiral,
"how to get a lot of aristocrats all together
in a bunch. A mile ahead of where we now
are, is a school-house, and it is full of boys,'
with a gray-headed master. Those fellows
ought to make excellent aristocrats."
"They will do very well," said Nassime, and
we will go quietly forward and capture them all."
When they reached the school-house, Nassime,
with his crown on his head and his scepter in his
hand, took his position at the front door, the giant
crouched down by the back door, the chancellor

stood by one window and the admiral tried to stand
by the other, but his stilts were so long that he
looked over the roof, instead of into the window.
Is not that a well near you ? said the little
councilor Lorilla, who was perched on- a vine, for

4 '




safe-keeping. Step into that, and you will, most
N -

likely, be just tall enough."
e a s i w,
1 _,-- T T:| "


safe-keeping. Step into that, and you will, most
likely, be just tall enough."
The admiral stepped into the well, which was
closed to the house, and found that he stood exactly
high enough to command the window. When all
were posted, Nassime opened his door, and stepping





a short distance into the room, declared his title
and position, and called upon them all to consider
themselves members of the aristocracy of his king-
dom. The moment he said this, the astonished
and frightened boys sprang to their feet and made



a rush for the back door, but when they threw it
open, there squatted the giant, with a broad grin
on his face, and his hands spread out before the
door-way. They then turned and ran, some for
one window and some for the other, but at one
stood the treasurer, brandishing his clam-rake, and
at the other the admiral, shaking his fists. There
was no escape,-one or two, who tried to pass by
Nassime, having been stopped by a tap on the
head from his scepter,-and so the boys crowded
together in the middle of the room, while some of
the smaller ones began to cry. The master was
too much startled and astonished to say a word.
Then came running into the room little Lorilla,
and mounting to the top of the school-master's
table, she addressed the school, telling them all
about the new kingdom, and explaining what a

jolly time they would have. It would be like a
long holiday, and although their master would go
with them, to teach them what they would have to
know in their new positions, it would not be a bit
like going to school.
As soon as the boys heard that they would not
have to go to school, they agreed to the plan on the
spot. Some of them even went out to talk to the
giant. As to the master, he said that if his school
was to be taken into the new kingdom he would
go, too, for he had promised the parents that he
would take care of their boys.
So, when all was settled, the whole school,
headed by the master, made ready to follow Nas-
sime and his officers. The giant pulled the
admiral out of the well, much to the delight of the
boys, and all started off in high good humor.
The company went into camp on the edge of a
wood, quite early in the evening, because Lorilla
said that boys ought riot to be up late. If it had
not been for the luncheons which the boys had in
their baskets, and which they cheerfully shared with
their older companions, many of the party would
have gone to sleep hungry that night. As for the
giant, it is probable that he did go to sleep hungry,
for it would have taken the contents of all the
baskets to have entirely satisfied his appetite.
Early the next morning, he aroused the party.
Here are a few bushels of cocoa-nuts," he cried,
emptying a great bag on the ground. I gathered
them before any of you were awake. Eat them
quickly, for we must be off. To-day is my army
day, and I want to get as many soldiers as I can."
As every one was very willing to please the giant,
an early start was made, and, before very long, the
party reached the edge of a desert. They jour-
neyed over the sand nearly all day, but not a living
being did they see. Late in the afternoon, a black
man, on an ostrich, was seen coming from behind
a hillock of sand, and immediately, with a great
shout, the whole party set out in chase.
It is probable that the man on the bird would
have soon got away from his pursuers, had not the
ostrich persisted in running around in a great
circle, while, with whoops and shouts, the giant
and the rest succeeded in heading off the ostrich,
which tumbled over, throwing his rider on the sand.
The bird then ran off as fast as he could go, while
the negro was seized by every aristocrat who could
get near enough to lay hold of him. The giant
now came up, and lifted the man from the midst
of his young captors. "You need not be fright-
ened," said he. "You are to belong to my army.
That is all. I will treat you well."
"And not kill me ? whimpered the black man.
"Certainly not," said the giant. "I need soldiers
too much to want to kill the only one I 've




got. Fall into line, behind me, and we '11 march
on and see if we cannot find you some comrades."
But by night-fall the giant's army still consisted
of one black man. The party encamped in an
oasis, where grew a number of date-palms, the fruit
of which afforded a plentiful supper for everybody.
The giant had not much appetite, and he looked
solemn while gazing at his army, as it sat cross-
legged on the ground, eating dates.
The next morning, the admiral earnestly pe-
titioned that they should try to get out of the
desert as soon as possible. "For," said he, "I
have a dreadful time in this sand with my stilts,
and I really need more men in my navy than the
giant has in his army. Besides, the best kind of
sailors can never be found in a dry desert, like this."
As no one could object to this reasoning, they
set forth, turning to the east, and, before noon,
they saw before them fields and vegetation, and
shortly afterward they came to a broad river.
Journeying down the bank of this for a mile or
two, they perceived, lying at anchor in the stream,
a good-sized vessel, with a tall mast, and a great sail
hauled down on the deck.
"Hurrah shouted the admiral, the moment
he set his eyes upon this prize, and away he went
for it, as fast as his stilts would carry him. When
he reached the water, he waded right in, and was
soon standing looking over the vessel's side.
He did not get on board, but, after standing for
some time talking to a person inside, he waded
back to the shore, where his companions were
anxiously waiting to hear what he had discovered.
"There are not many persons on board," he
said, rather ruefully. Only an old woman and a
girl. One is the cook and the other washes bottles.
There were a good many men on the ship, but the
old woman says that they all went away yesterday,
carrying with them a vast number of packages.
She thinks they were a lot of thieves, and that
they have gone off with their booty and have
deserted the vessel. She and the girl were simply
hired as servants, and knew nothingabout the crew.
It is n't exactly the kind of navy I wanted, but it
will do, and we may see some men before night."
It was unanimously agreed that the government
of Nassimia should take possession of this deserted
vessel, and the giant soon managed to pull her to
shore, anchor and all. Everybody excepting the
giant went on board, Nassime and Lorilla going
first, then the government officers, the aristocracy,
and the army. The admiral stood on his stilts,
with his head up in the rigging, and the ship was
formally placed under his command. When all
was ready, the giant ran the ship out into the
stream, wading in up to his middle; and then he
very carefully clambered on board. The vessel

rocked a good deal as he got in, but it could
carry him so long as he kept quiet.
As my navy is not large enough, just now, to
work the ship," said the admiral to Nassime, and,
also, as it does n't know anything about such work, I
shall have to have the help of the aristocracy, and
also to ask the general to lend me his army."
"All right," said the giant, "you can have him."
A number of the larger boys, assisted by the
negro, now went to work and hoisted the sail.
Then the army was'sent to the helm, the vessel
was put before the wind, and the kingdom of Nas-
simia began to sail away.
There was a large quantity of provisions on
board, enough to last many days, and everybody
ate heartily. But not a person was seen that day
on either bank of the river.
They anchored at night, and the next morning,
setting sail again, they soon entered a broad sea or
lake. They sailed on, with the wind behind them,
and everybody enjoyed the trip. The admiral sat
on the stern, with his stilts dangling behind in the
water, as the ship sailed on, and was very happy.
Now," said the chancellor of the exchequer, as
the officers of the government were talking togeth-
er on deck, all we want is some common people,
and then we can begin the kingdom in real earnest."
We must have some houses and streets," said
Nassime, and a palace. All those will be neces=
sary before we can settle down as a kingdom."
They sailed all night, and the next day they
saw land before them. And, slowly moving near
the shore, they perceived a long caravan.
Hi !" shouted the chancellor of the exchequer,
" there are the common people! "
Everybody was now very much excited, and
everybody wanted to go ashore, but this Nassime
would not permit. Capturing a caravan would be
a very different thing from capturing a negro on an
ostrich, and the matter must be undertaken with
caution and prudence. So, ordering the ship
brought near the shore, he made ready to land,
accompanied only by the giant and Lorilla.
The giant had found a spare mast on the vessel,
and he had trimmed and whittled it into a con-
venient club. This he took under one arm, and,
with Nassime on the other, wearing his crown and
carrying Lorilla in his sash, the giant waded ashore,
and stopped a short distance in front of the ap-
proaching caravan.
Nassime, having been set on the ground, ad-
vanced to the leader of the caravan, and, drawing
his sword, called upon him to halt. Instantly the
procession stopped, and the leader, dismounting
from his horse, approached Nassime, and bowed
low before him, offering to pay tribute, if necessary.
"We will not speak of tribute," said Nassime,




" at least, not now. What I wish, is to know who
you all are, and where you are going."
That is easily answered," said the other, giving
a glance upward at the giant, who stood leaning on
his club, behind Nas-
sime; "we are a '-" ;
company of m.in
of high degree. -
of philosophers "
and of rich

: --. ., .

, .. - - _ v - -= -: -
S -- -- -



merchants, who have joined together to visit foreign
lands, to enjoy ourselves and improve our minds.
We have brought with us our families, our slaves,
and our flocks and other possessions. We wish to
offend no one, and if you object to our passing
through your dominions -- "
I do not object," said Nassime, "I am very
glad you came this way. These are not my do-
minions. I am king of Nassimia."
"And where is that, your majesty ?"
"It is not anywhere in particular, just now,"
said Nassime, "but we shall soon fix upon a spot
where its boundaries will be established. It is a
new kingdom, and only needed a body of com- "
"Say populace," whispered Lorilla, from his
sash, the other might offend him."
And only needed a populace," continued Nas-
sime, "to make it complete. I am the king-of
royal blood and education. I have ministers of
state and finance; an admiral and a navy; a gen-
eral of the army, whom you see here," pointing to
the giant, and an aristocracy, which is at present
on board of that ship. I have been looking for a
populace, and am very glad to have met you.
You and your companions are now my people."
"What, your majesty ? cried the astonished
leader of the caravan. I do not comprehend."
Nassime then explained the plan and purpose of

his kingdom, and assured the other that he and his
countrymen could nowhere be more happy than
in the kingdom of Nassimia, where every oppor-
tunity of enjoyment and the improvement of the
mind would be offered to the people.
The leader, on hearing this, begged permission
c.. .....ii.ul ith his fellow-travelers. Some ad-
-.. ,:.,.- thing and some another, but the
,.!-,r .:.! [e giant, who every now and then
plI. Ill, struck the earth with the end of
his club in such a way
as to make the ground
tremble, hastened their
S"If we were poor
men," said one of the
Philosophers, "and had
-' *. no treasures with us, we
S might scatter in various
S" directions, and many of
us might escape. That
Giant could not kill us
i all. But we are too rich
S-for that. We cannot run
'- away from our great
---- possessions. We must
- - -submit in peace."
T. So it was settled that
they should submit to
the king of Nassimia and become his people, and
the leader carried the decision to Nassime.
The chancellor of the exchequer now became
very anxious to go on shore. He had cast off his
clam-digger's clothes, and wore a magnificent suit
which he had found in the ship, and which had
belonged to the robber captain. He stood on the
deck and made signs for the giant to come for him.
So the giant was sent for him, and soon returned,
bringing also the army, which the chancellor had
borrowed of him for a time. This officer, as soon
as he had landed, approached Nassime and said:
These, then, are the common people. I sup-
pose I might as well go to work and collect taxes."
"You need not hurry about that," said Nassime.
"They will never believe in your government
until you do it," urged the chancellor, and so Nas-
sime allowed him to do as he wished, only telling
him not to levy his taxes too heavily.
Then the chancellor, with the negro behind him,
carrying his old clam-basket, over which a cloth
had been thrown, went through the caravan and
collected taxes enough in gold and silver to fill his
basket. He also collected a horse for himself and
one for Nassime. Now," said he, "we have the
foundation of a treasury, and the thing begins to
look like a kingdom."
Everything being now satisfactorily arranged, the




company began to move on. The giant, with his army
at his heels, and his club over his shoulder, marched
first. Then rode Nassime with Lorilla, then the
chancellor, with his basket of treasure before him on
his horse, and after him the caravan. The ship
sailed along a short distance from the shore.
In the evening, the land party encamped near
the shore, and the vessel came to anchor, the giant
shouting to the admiral Nassime's commands.
The chancellor wished to make another collection
of taxes, after supper, but this Nassime forbade.
Lorilla then had a long talk with Nassime, apart
from the company, assuring him that what was
needed next was the royal city.
"Yes, indeed," said Nassime, and we are not
likely to meet with that as we have met with every-
thing else. We must build a city, I suppose."
"No," said Lorilla, gayly. "We can do much
better. Do you see that heavy forest on the hills
back of us? Well, in that forest is the great
capital city of my people, the fairies. We are
scattered in colonies all over the country, but there

morning, while the stars were still shining, she
returned and awoke him, and while they were
going to the camp she told him her news.
Our queen," she said, will have a city built
for you, all complete, with everything that a city
needs, but before she will have this done, she com-
mands that some one in your party shall be changed
into a fairy, to take my place! This must be a
grown person who consents to the exchange, as I
have agreed to be your chief councilor of state.
And it must be some one whose mind has never
been occupied with human affairs."
I don't believe you will find any such person
among us," said Nassime, ruefully.
But Lorilla clapped her hands and cried, merrily:
"Ah, yes! The bottle-washer! I believe she is
the very person."
Nassime was cheered by this idea, and as soon as
they reached the shore, he asked the giant to carry
Shim and Lorilla to the ship. Early as it was, they
found the young girl sitting on the deck, quietly
washing bottles. She had lost her parents when


- -

-- . ..-- 2 .- - -

~ A-
~~~?~5 ~p


is our court and our queen. And it is the fairies
who can help you to get a royal city. This very
evening, I will go and see what can be done."
So, that evening, Nassime took Lorilla to the
edge of the forest, and while she ran swiftly into its
depths, he lay down and slept. Early the next

an infant, and had never had any one to care for.
She had passed her life, since she was a very small
child, in washing bottles, and as this employment
does not require any mental labor, she had never
concerned herself about anything.
She will do," exclaimed Lorilla, when she had




found out all this. I don't believe her mind was
ever occupied at all. It is perfectly fresh for her to
begin as a fairy."
When the girl was asked if she would be a fairy,
she readily consented, for it made no difference to
her what she was, and when the admiral was asked
if he would give her up, he said: Oh, yes To be
sure, it will reduce my navy to one person, but,
even then, it will be as large as the army. You
may take her, and welcome." The bottle-washer
therefore was taken to the shore, and Nassime
conducted her to the woods with Lorilla. There
he left them, promising to return at sunset.
You must be careful of one thing," said Lorilla
to him, before he left, and that is, not to let those
aristocrats come on shore. If they once get among
the populace, they will begin to lord it over them
in a way that will raise a dreadful commotion."
Nassime promised to attend to this, and when he
went back he sent orders to the admiral, on no ac-
count to allow any aristocrat to come on shore.
This order caused great discontent on the vessel.
The boys could n't see why they alone should be
shut up in the ship. They had expected to have
lots of fun when the common people were found.
It was, therefore, with great difficulty that they
were restrained from jumping overboard and swim-
ming ashore in a body. The master had been
made an ancient noble, but his authority was of lit-
tle avail, and the poor admiral had his hands full.
Indeed, he would have been in despair, had it not
been for the gallant conduct of his navy. That
brave woman seized a broom, and marching around
the deck, kept watchful guard. Whenever she saw
a boy attempting to climb over the side of the ves-
sel, she brought down the broom with a whack up-
on him, and tumbled him back on the deck. In
the afternoon, however, the giant came to the vessel
with a double arm-load of rich fruit, cakes, pastry
and confectionery, an offering from the common
people, which so delighted the aristocrats that there
was peace on board for the rest of the day.
At sunset, Nassime went to the woods and met
Lorilla, who was waiting for him.
"It's all right she cried; "the bottle-washer
is to be magically dwindled down to-night. And
when everybody is asleep, the fairies will come here
and will see how many people there are and what
they are like, and they will build a city just to suit.
It will be done to-morrow."
Nassime could scarcely believe all this, but there
was nothing to be done but to wait and see. That
night, everybody went to sleep quite early. And
if the fairies came and measured them for a city,
they did not know it.
In the morning, Nassime arose, and walked down
toward the shore. As he did so, a lady came out

of a tent and approached him. He thought he
knew her features, but he could not remember who
she was. But when she spoke, he started back and
cried out: "Lorilla !"
"Yes," said the lady, laughing, "it is Lorilla.
The king of Nassimia ought to have a chief coun-
cilor of state who is somewhat longer than his fin-
ger, and last night, as the girl who took my place
dwindled down to the size of a fairy, I grew larger
and larger, until I became as large as she used to
be. Do you like the change ?"
Lorilla was beautiful. She was richly dressed,
and her lovely face was as merry and gay as
Nassime approached her and took her hand.
The chief councilor of my kingdom shall be its
queen," he said, and calling a priest from the pop-
ulace, the two were married on the spot.
Great were the rejoicings on land and water, but
there was no delay in getting ready to march to the
royal city, the domes and spires of which Lorilla
pointed out to them behind some lovely groves.
Nassime was about to signal for the ship to come
to shore, but Lorilla checked him.
I 'm really sorry for those poor aristocrats, but
it will never do to take them to the royal city.
They are not needed, and they would make all
sorts of trouble. There is nothing to be done but
to let the admiral sail away with them, and keep on
sailing until they are grown up. Then they will
come back, fit to be members of the nobility.
They will have their master with them, and you can
put three or four philosophers on board, and they
can be as well educated, traveling about in this
way, as if they were going to school."
Nassime felt sorry for the aristocrats, but he saw
that this was good advice, and he took it. A quan-
tity of provisions and four philosophers were sent on
board the ship, and the admiral was ordered to sail
away until the boys grew up. As he liked nothing
better than sailing, this suited the admiral exactly
and after having a few sheep sent on board, with
which to amuse himself during calms, he hoisted
sail, and was soon far away.
The rest of the kingdom marched on, and in
good time reached the royal city. There it stood,
with its houses, streets, shops, and everything that
a city should have. The royal palace glittered in
the center, and upon a hill there stood a splendid
castle for the giant!
Everybody hurried forward. The name of the
owner was on every house, and every house was
fully furnished, so in a few minutes the whole city
was at home.
The king, leading his queen up the steps of his
royal palace, paused at the door:
"All this," he said, I owe to you. From the





very beginning, you have given me nothing but The vessel carrying the aristocrats sailed away
good advice." and away, with the admiral sitting on the stern,
"But that is not the best of it," she said, laugh- his stilts dangling in the water behind, as the ship
ing. "You always took it." moved on.



"~ FOUR eggs, is it, or only three?"
Said a careful housewife, musingly;
" I will look again at my recipe."

She whipped her batter, so smooth and thin,
And emptied it into the buttered tin:
Three eggs, not four, had she put therein.

The fourth she laid on the cupboard shelf;
But out from a corner peeped an elf,
Who roguishly laughed to her little self-

A chubby girl of the age of three,
Who scrupled not, when the coast was free,
To take the egg for her property.

Weary and sore, that very day,
A tramp was passing along that way,
And he said what tramps are wont to say.

The child was touched at his hungry plight,
So she drew from her apron the egg so white,
And said: "Cook this for your tea to-night."

But lo as he tossed on his bed of hay,
In vagabond dreams of a better day,
The egg from his pocket rolled away.

Now a speckled hen, with yellow streaks,
Had sat on an empty nest for weeks.
Such are, at times, an old hen's freaks.

And all that the farmer's wife could do
With tying and ducking and screaming "shoo/"
Had failed with Speckle; she sat it through.

Here, now, she was on her well-worn nest,
When the coming of morning broke her rest.
" What's that!" said she, as she raised her crest.

" What 's that on the hay out there I see?
An egg, as I am alive," said she;
Somebody's left it there for me."

She rolled toward her the precious thing,
And hid it under her downy wing,
To see what a future day would bring.

At length came a knock-so faint and small
It scarce was heard-on the egg's white wall,
And a chick stepped into the world. That 's all.

Ah, no not all. Soon a hawk swooped down
And snatched the feathers from off its crown;
Then it was chased by a weasel brown.

Three times into treacherous tubs it fell,
And once dropped into an open well.
It wished it was back in its little shell.

Full oft did it choke till nearly dead;
A falling apricot bruised its head :
O the turbulent life that chicken led!

But it grew, at last, to its full estate;
And now you may think some high-born fate,
For a thing so cared for, lay in wait.

But listen. The end was a fricassee
For the Jones's Christmas jubilee.
And this is the thing that puzzles me:

Wherefore should Fortune take such heed
To ward off dangers,-only to feed
The Joneses with something they did n't need.

I think, if I could have had my prayer,
The wife would have saved this run of care
By ending its history then and there.






THE story of Lady Bertha is very, very old, but the
curious part of it is, that though her name has been
a household word in Germany for centuries, and
though her memory is cherished still among the
legend-loving people of the world, the Lady Bertha
never really lived at all.
She was, in fact, a goddess of German mythology
-and so gracious and gentle a goddess that even
the sweet sunshine was thought to be subject to her
command, and the rain came only when Frau Ber-
tha willed. If the fields were prosperous, the people
smiled and thanked Frau Bertha; and it was Frau
Bertha, they thought, who sent all the little children
to the earth to make the household happy. It was
she who was supposed to hold the keys to the
chambers of life and death, so you will hardly won-
der, I think, that the ancients sought in every way
to win her approbation.
She dwelt, they said, in no beautiful palace, but
in hollow mountain caves, apart from men, where
she fostered and cherished the souls of those little
children who had died an early death. There, in
her kingdom under the earth, she plowed the
ground with her plow, the little souls working
with her the while, it being their part to water the
The most beautiful tradition connected with this
heathen goddess is that known as the Legend of
the Pitcher of Tears." Full as this legend is of
contradictory ideas, it shows the grief that mothers
feel when their little ones die, and how the hope of
one day meeting them again helps them to bear
long and sorrowful years of loneliness.
Lady Bertha was once passing with her little
train down a green and lovely meadow-land, across
whose length ran a wall to mark some boundary
line. One by one, the children bravely clambered
over the wall, but the last little one, who bore in
her arms a heavy pitcher, in vain tried to follow
her sisters. -
A woman who had lost her child by death a short
time before, was standing near, and immediately
recognized the darling for whom she had been
weeping so many days and nights.
Rushing forward, she clasped the child to her
breast. Then the little one said: "Ah! How warm
is mother's arm But I pray thee, weep not so bit-
terly, else my pitcher will become heavier than I
can bear See, dear mother, how all thy tears fall
into my pitcher, and how they have already wet my

robe But Lady Bertha, who kisses me and loves
me tenderly, says that thou, too, shalt come to her
one day, and that we shall then dwell together in
the beautiful gardens under the mountain for ever
and ever."
And so, the legend tells us, the mother wept no
more, but let her darling go, while from that hour
she was resigned and patient, her heavy heart find-
ing comfort in the thought of that happy meeting,
in the "beautiful gardens under the mountains,"
that was sure to come.
Later, Lady Bertha had also the oversight of all
spinners. On the last day of the year, which was
sacred to her, and which used to be called Puch-
entag" in German before the Christians rechrist-
ened it "Sylvestentag," it is said if she found any
flax on the distaff she spoiled it, and in order to win
her entire approval, her festival-day had to be
observed with meager fare-oatmeal porridge, or
pottage and fish. Indeed, a most terrible punish-
ment awaited all who ventured to eat anything else
on that day. Lady Bertha, you see, could be very
severe when she was displeased; the slightest sign
of disrespect to herself was always promptly re-
sented by this shadowy lady.
As time went on, paganism gave place to Christ-
ianity in the German fatherland, and Frau Bertha
descended from her high estate of goddess, becom-
ing -little more than a terror and a bugbear to
frighten children, who, by this time, were taught to
think of her as a hideous being with a long iron nose
and a remarkably long foot.
In France, too, the long foot played a prominent
part, for the traditions of Lady Bertha are by no
means confined to Germany alone. As the story
goes, King Pepin fought in combat for the hand
of a very beautiful maiden and accomplished spin-
ner, Bertrada, the daughter of a Hungarian king.
King Pepin having won the day and covered him-
self with honor, the prize was declared to be his,
and the beautiful maiden, accompanied by a large
suite, was sent by her father to be queen over
France, while the fame of the fair lady's beauty
traveled even faster than she herself. This was
not strange, however, for excepting the drawback
of one deformed foot, her beauty was wondrous
But it happened that a certain wicked lady of
honor was not at all pleased with the choice King
Pepin had made, and which had foiled her own





ambition; so, quietly bribing some men, as wicked
as herself, to carry off the Lady Bertrada and slay
her in the woods, she put in the place of this royal
maiden her own hideous and hateful daughter.
The fraud, you may be sure, was soon discovered,

moonlight. She was extremely beautiful, and one
of her feet was remarkably long. Then the king
gave a cry of joy, for he knew he had found the
real Bertrada, alive, after all; and, happy once more,
he carried home to the castle his long-lost bride.

* -._ s %'.
.: .. . . .


and the false queen instantly put to death by com-
mand of the royal and wrathful bridegroom.
Late one evening, when the king was riding
through the woods after a long day's hunt, he came
to a mill on the banks of the river Main, in which he
found a maiden diligently spinning in the pale

This Bertrada, or Bertha, was the mother of the
great and famous Emperor Charlemagne, and it is
due to a remembrance of this story about her that
you will find on the walls of many French
churches quaint pictures of ancient queens, per-
fect excepting one deformed foot.





)V I- .

"\ P -" '. !%IL. iL'K 'ime over to
'. !-,._ ,,-u directly after
I' :' IpF r. 1.: .. ... .. ce apologized
r I r l' -.r. .:. :he, explaining
Sri/-' i', i1 ii'la had made
, t.: *i.li :h1 Ilage, and had

H....-..' :le added, "it
.I':..: r't 1-i-. Lny difference'
!:rI,,, i '.l i !.I1[. *. not, for I am
.,I ,i 0i,-- .1!! 1lh. 'l.io. Papa says
i .- .' g.., .i! 1I-.- ': awfully cross
about it all. He told Mamma that
she must n't mention your plan to any one, for per-
haps Cousin Robert would change his mind, and
then it need never be known. But you wont do
so, will you? I know I would n't."
We are not going to change our minds," said
Fred. When a Baird says he will, he will! As
for the village knowing it, some do know it already.
Donald Stuart does, for one, for he is going along."
"Donald Stuart!" ejaculated Kitty. "Donald
Stuart! And I-I, a member of the family,-I stay
at home It is outrageous "
"Never you mind," said Sandy. "You may go.
Even if your father is a Baird, he may change his
mind. I declare, if I thought it would do any good,
I would go ask him this minute."
I don't doubt that," his father replied; where
Kitty is concerned, I never knew your interest to
fail. Do you really think, Kitty, that your father is
determined not to let you go?"
"He is as hard as the rocks of Gibraltar," said
Kitty, mournfully. Even Mamma says she knows
he wont change his mind. Here comes Donald
Stuart. It 's too bad "
Donald, tall and blue-eyed, came in by the gate.
I am going to have Joe Hillside's fishing-line,"
he said. He offered to lend it to me."
"I shall just pretend I am going, anyhow," said

Kitty, and I am going to borrow a gypsy kettle,
or something. Of course, you will want me to help
you get ready. And it will be more fun for me,
if I pretend I am to be one of the happy party."
"I should n't like that," said Donald, who was
very practical. "I should be more disappointed
when left behind, if I had played that I was going."
"I sha'n't," said Kitty; "and I mean to have
some of the fun. I really have half a mind to
run off! I have never even seen Greystone since
I was a baby. Is it true that it has bells all around
the roof, Cousin Robert? "
"Not now. It used to have, and in stormy
weather they jingled merrily."
How absurd," said Donald, again. "Why were
there bells around the roof ? Is it a big house ? "
"Big! repeated Fred. "Why, it has nearly
eighty rooms in it."
That makes a good deal of roof around which
to hang bells," said Donald.
The bells were only around the center build-
ing," said Mr. Baird. "Two long wings have
since been added. The house was built by a
Dutchman, who had made a fortune in China, and
had, I suppose, pleasant ideas about bells. The
walls of his house are three feet thick, and the ceil-
ings very high. But he brought something more
curious than bells from China. Two wives."
"Was he allowed to keep them?" cried Belle.
"No; for one ran away. He built two little
houses for them, but the youngest ran off with the
"What became of the Dutchman?" said Don-
ald. I hope he caught it, some way!"
He died in prison for debt; did n't he, Papa?"
Fred asked; "and they say the cellar was once
used by pirates for storing goods ?"
"We '11 look," said Donald, "some rainy day,
when we can't go fishing."
"It is a forlorn old house," said Mrs. Baird;
"you must not expect much romance."
Is it like a castle ?" said Kitty.
"Not a bit. It is long and narrow. The wings
were added when it was used for a boys' school. I
have no doubt it is dirty enough to be a castle."
We '11 take a broom," said Kitty; "but now I
must go and see Patty. She ought to decide upon
what kitchen things she wants."
Kitty was as good as her word. From this
moment she devoted herself to asking questions,


(A Story of an S. S.)

BY *


and deciding for every one. Patty declared she
must lie awake at nights, or she never could think
of so many things. She decided how many cuffs
her cousin Robert would need, and that her cousin
Juliet must take a feather-pillow. She picked out
all the china they would want, and, sagely remark-
ing that as most of it would be broken, it had better
not be too good, made so forlorn an assortment
that Patty was disgusted. She invaded the linen
closet, but here Belle routed her. She told Fred
not to take his gold pen, for fear it would be lost,
and she directed Sandy to wear good, but not his
best, boots. She came over whenever she had a
chance, and, if she had but a moment to stay, she
came all the same. It occurred to her that they
might need a lantern, and so, one evening, after
supper, she started on a two-mile walk to borrow
one. Of course she got it, for no one refused Kitty
anything; and then, as it grew darker, she stopped
at a house, and begging some matches, lighted her
lantern and went on her way, astonishing every
one she met by the sight of so small a girl, with
so large a light, alone on the road at this late hour.
She grumbled, she scolded, she laughed, and
she complained; but, although she was quite sure
her father would not relent, she never allowed any
one to say she really was not going to Greystone.
She meant, she said, to have the fun of pretend-
ing she was.


IT was not many days before all preparations
were made, baskets and bags packed, and at last
the party, including Patty, but not poor Kitty,
stood on the wharf at Greystone, and watched the
boat move off. In front of them was the broad and
beautiful river, behind them a green and wooded
country, while around them lay all sorts of curious,
nondescript baskets, bags, and bundles.
"Come, come," said Mr. Baird, finally; "don't
stand gazing at that boat, or I shall think you
repent of having landed. Behold! It is a new
world. Columbus has stepped upon the shore!
Or, Robinson Crusoe has saved his family and his
baggage from the wreck, and his man Friday will
at once lead the way to the house."
"We look much more like western immigrants,
Papa," said Belle.
"And there," added Fred, with a glance toward
two men who were loading a wagon with milk-cans,
"are your Indians, and they both have their
mouths open."
"It is the contradictory effect of our good
clothes and our shabby bundles," explained Sandy;
they evidently think these bundles contain our

wardrobes, and they don't understand why such a
very nobby family should not have trunks."
We might have had them," replied his mother;
" we could have packed Patty's tea-kettle and the
table-cloths in a trunk instead of the clothes-
It was n't right to offer the neighbors such a
conundrum," said Mr. Baird; "if I had thought
of it, I would have protested. There is Belle's
dress! Half of it is silk; it ought all to have been
chintz; she ought to be in character."
"Only a little is silk, Papa," said Belle; "and
it is not clean, and it is old-fashioned; you ought
to consider all that. But, to-morrow!-to-morrow
I '1l come out in brogans and calico !"
At this announcement, Sandy gave a little sniff,
and then, to prove that one member of the party
was prompt and practical, he lifted the heaviest of
the bundles, and put it on his back. Mr. Baird
and Fred took the clothes-basket, heavy with
kitchen-ware, between them; Donald shouldered
another great bag; Mrs. Baird gathered up the
basket of forks and spoons, a tin-bucket of butter,
and a shawl-strap well-filled; while Belle airily
marched off with a basket of meat which, at home,
would have been much too heavy to lift. Patty
looked at the bundles remaining. Then she sat
down on the stump of a tree.
I '11 stay here and watch them 'until you come
back; so you boys had better hurry."
This was an order to move; it was obeyed, and
the whole party marched off. 4
Patty looked after them. It was all rather crazy,
she thought, but it was all right. She was in the
habit of scolding about everything, and then cheer-
fully turning around and helping. She had come
to see Mrs. Baird one afternoon about twenty years
before, and, a storm coming up, she staid all night.
She staid the next day to help with some quilting,
and had not yet found time to go away. She had
always meant to go to her sister's, out West, but it
was preserving, or pickling, or the baby had the
croup, or Fred was going to school, or Sandy's
birthday cake was to be made, or something was
to be done, and so Patty staid!
It was now a lovely evening, but it was growing
hazy, and ominous clouds came up the west. The
birds were chattering and flocking in the trees, the
partridges were stealthily calling for that mysterious
person, "Bob White"; the wild-turnip was in blos-
som, the cardinal-flower blazed down by the river,
and the poke-berry bushes, by the fences, were
slowly staining leaves and stalks with red purple.
Belle stopped to rest; she lifted her hat from her
head, pushed back her hair, and looking around,
said it was "just lovely," and the whole party
agreed with her.





"Pull my hat over my eyes, Belle," said her
father, "there is Mrs. Lambert on her porch, and
your uncle Robert particularly mentioned her as one
of the neighbors who would be shocked. She does
n't know any of you, but I used to dance with her,
when I was young and good-looking, and I haven't
altered. Here, Fred, change hands, it will rest you."
"Are you not ashamed, Papa," cried Belle.
"You want to get on the side farthest from her!"
"There !" said Mrs. Baird, suddenly interrupt-
ing, "we have forgotten the candles !"
"Never mind," said her husband, "we have
Kitty's lantern."
At this, Sandy gently sighed; he had not yet for-
given his uncle for refusing to allow Kitty to come

counterfeiters; they see we are not all right. Dis-
close the worst! "
In a week, they 'll say we are lunatics," observed
Patty. "Well, I do think the Reverend Baird was
right. Such a place! And for a holiday! "
"It would n't be a bad place for a counterfeiter,"
Fred said to Donald, "but for smuggling-it would
be splendid I It is like one of Sir Walter Scott's
novels. Here is the deserted castle; here the river.
Of course there is a cove-there always is-all we
should need would be something to smuggle."
"You'll need to do it soon," said Patty, "for
the bread won't hold out two weeks, and I am sure
there isn't a place for baking in this old rattle-trap."
It would be best to turn pirate," said Sandy.


with them, but at that moment, Belle, who was a
little in advance, cried out: "There is Grey-
stone I" and then, in a cooler tone, "when it rains,
we shall have to sleep down-stairs, for I believe there
is not a whole pane of glass upstairs !"
This announcement stirred the hearts of the
whole party; they quickened their steps, and in a
moment all had turned into a green and shady
lane, and Greystone, with its great outspread wings,
its ample porches, and numerous doors and win-
dows, was in full view.
"I salute thee!" cried Fred. "But do, Papa,
change hands again; the basket grows heavier and
"Look there !" cried Belle, turning her head and
pointing down the lane, to the milk-wagon, which
was bringing the rest of the luggage, and Patty.
Our gate! cried Sandy. "Behold, like Chris-
tian, I drop my burden, I run to open the wicket-
gate-but Fred!" he called back, "it has no
hinges; come, lift the other end."
When the bundles and baskets were placed on
the great porch, the men stood and looked at them,
and then at the owners resting on the steps.
Going to live here? asked one.
For a time," cheerfully replied Mr. Baird.
Furniture not come ?"
"Not yet," said Fred.
"Oh, it 'll be along," said the man. "Sup-
pose you can stay at Saunders's till it comes ?"
"Tell them," whispered Sandy, "that we are

" I always wanted to be one, and then we could
easily get our supplies. All those tugs and sloops
must have bread and salt meat on board. That 's
what we '11 do, Patty,-when the larder is low, and
the night it is dark, we will go out in our boat,
board a merchant-man, and bring you home the
spoil! You need not worry over the oven."
"The oven," said Mr. Baird, catching the last
words, "is there one? But come, boys, there is
plenty to be done; the house is to be explored,
furnished, and the hay bought."
"First we '11 choose our rooms," cried Sandy,
"and then we'll know what color hay to get."
"This is the parlor," said Belle, entering the
house, as usual, ahead, and looking into an open
door at the left.
"It is too big, Belle," said her father, there is
too much bare floor, and our lantern would n't
light it."
"Well, this is better, then," and Mrs. Baird
opened a door on the right; "the rooms have been
alike, but this one has had a partition run across it."
Adjoining the "little parlor," as it was at once
called, was a long dining-room, with eight windows,
and five doors, all open to the breezes. In the
corner stood a great yellow closet, and for the rest,
it was dusty, cheerful, and dirty.
The floor," said Belle, lifting her skirts, "is not
good to walk upon, and when the rainy season sets
in, and the voyagers are obliged to dine in-doors, I
am sure they cannot put a table-cloth on it."



"The rainy season is not so far off," said her
father, who was standing at one of the back doors
looking over at the garden, now a wilderness of
tangled roses, grapes, syringas, and peach-trees,
" and so, if you boys do not get the hay soon, we
shall have our choice of wet beds or none."
"Then the first thing to do," said Fred, is to
carry upstairs the bags in which we mean to put
the hay, and empty them."
"I don't know where you will put the things,"
said Patty, quickly unstrapping the broom from
the umbrellas, "if upstairs is as dusty as down-
stairs. Just you come along, and I '11 brush up a
place in a jiffy!"
"After you have finished, Patty," cried Mrs.
Baird after her, throw the broom down, for Belle
and I are going to furnish the dining-room, and
we must first sweep."
Sweep muttered Patty, "the old barn ought
to be scrubbed from top to bottom, and before I am
a day older, if my life is spared, I '11 have these
stairs washed down."
Upstairs, Donald, Fred, Belle and Sandy were
soon busy selecting rooms. In the main building,
on each side of the hall, was a large room, with two
small dressing-rooms attached to each. The one
with the greatest number of whole window-panes
was appropriated for the father and mother, while
the one opposite was chosen for Belle and Patty.
The boys took their rooms in the wing nearest
Patty's, as she settled the matter by saying if they
did n't, she would sit up all night rather than be
murdered in her bed !
They were not, however, as close as they would
have been, had not Sandy proved to be very fastid-
ious about the colors of the wall-paper, objecting to
some because they were "loud," and to others be-
cause they did n't suit his complexion.
While these four young and merry people ran
from room to room, laughing and calling, Patty,
with an energy that overlooked the corners, had
swept out Mrs. Baird's room, and spreading out a
'great patchwork quilt on the floor, emptied the
bags and was ready, she announced, for the hay.
Patty's hints had one merit, they were not easily
misunderstood, and so each boy took a bag, and
they set off to look for hay. They had not far.to
go, for Farmer Saunders, who was only about a
quarter of a mile distant, said at once, that if it was
Robert Baird's fancy to sleep on hay, he could have
as much as he wanted, and he then insisted on.
sending over milk, or anything they needed.
When the boys got back, the rooms were swept,
and Belle had chalked on each door the name of
the occupant of the room. The beds were soon
made. The hay was spread down smoothly and
compactly, the sheets and white quilts were put on,

pillow-cases filled with hay, and they looked com-
fortable enough.
Fred and Donald refused for their rooms all Pat-
ty's offers of assistance. They had appropriated
two small rooms, and in one they made a bed that
covered the whole floor, and took four sheets to fur-
nish In the next room they hung their clothes, a
pin-cushion and a little looking-glass. For a chair,
they had an empty box. Then, deciding that the
basin ought to be with the pitcher, they carried it
down-stairs, and turned it upside down on the
pump in the shed.
In the dining-room a revolution was being
enacted. Belle had tied up her head in her father's
handkerchief, and had swept the room. Then, with
her mother's help, she investigated the great closet.
It had two good doors, opening in the middle and
fastening with a button. It had firm shelves; and
Belle got a basin of water, a cloth, and mounting
on a chair, prepared to scour it. Then she had a
brilliant idea.
"Mamma," she cried, turning around, "this
closet is not fastened to the wall. Let us turn it
on its back upon the floor, and make a table of
it. We can still use it for a closet, all the same,
for we can put everything in, just as well; the
shelves will make division walls," and so she
jumped off the chair, and with much trouble and
a heavy thud, they got the closet down and pushed
it into the center of the room, and then Belle
cleaned it out.
In it she put such of the stores as could not be
placed in a dry well in the shed, and then with
much haste she fastened down the doors, and spread
the cloth, so that when the boys came back with the
hay, there was a large, low table set for supper.
It was at once hailed as a surpassingly excellent
invention, and worthy of the occasion. As a mat-
ter of course, many suggestions were made at once.




The first question was how they should sit around
it. Chairs were pronounced much too high, and
as they had none, no one contradicted this asser-
tion. Next, as the table was entirely too wide,
it was proposed that instead of having the cloth
placed to one side,-as Belle had arranged it,-it
should be put in the middle, and that they should
then sit on the edge of the table. This, Fred said,
would be an excellent thing to do, as then the
closet would combine the whole dining-room furni-

I l.W >------*-' --------




ture, and be sideboard, table, and chairs. Donald
was in favor of having cushions of hay, and reclin-
ing on them like the Orientals, but ingenious
Sandy settled the whole question. Out on the
porch lay a square wooden pillar, a ruin, but still
strong. It was about seven feet long, and had
once supported the end of a little porch. This,
Sandy brought in, and as one end was higher than
the other, having the capital still upon it, after lay-
ing it down by the table, he made it level with
Then he gazed at it with satisfaction. The
clothes-basket he turned up at one end of the table
for his mother, an old soap-box was brushed off
and placed for his father, while Patty, who at
once declined .-i i. -* on that "rickety contrivance,"
Sandy's bench, said that a bucket upside down
would do for her, and so, with a napkin for a table-
cloth, she established herself on the opposite side.
The four young people laughed at her for her
precautions, and filing c ii.-.u !!: in, sat down upon
the pillar. Mrs. Baird, at ease upon the clothes-
basket, poured out the coffee, while Patty explained
that before she could make a fire in the range she
had to dig out a hole with the hatchet, so full was
it of a solid mass of cinders.
"It is splendid coffee, at any rate," said Mr.
Baird; "but there is no sugar in mine."

Nor in mine," said Sandy.
Nor mine," echoed Fred.
"No," replied Mrs. Baird, "for I have none.
Belle has forgotten it. It is in the closet! "
Every man take his own plate and cup, and
clear the table," said Belle promptly; and follow-
ing her example, they arose, they cleared the table,
they opened the closet and took out the sugar, and
then made a careful inventory of what was out, to
see if anything that was in was needed; but in spite
of all their care, no one thought of the salt until the
table was set again, and the cold chicken was carved,
and then they agreed it really was not needed.
It was a merry supper. They were all hungry,
and all full of plans and good humor. It was, how-
ever, Sandy himself who reached over too far to get
the butter, and thus disturbed the order of the
bricks on which the pillar rested. The bricks
trembled, they slid, they fell, and the four who de-
pended on them were suddenly precipitated from
their seat. Sandy went on to the table, Donald
fell back with his heels in the air, Belle caught her-
self, Fred clutched Sandy, and the older people
jumped up with exclamations.
But neither Donald nor Sandy spoke; they lifted
the pillar up and carried it out, and then coming
back, sat down cross-legged, like Turks or tailors,
and Belle and Fred followed their example.

(To be continued.)







To THE wall of the old green garden
A butterfly quivering came;
His wings on the moss of the margin
Played like a yellow flame.

He looked at the gray geraniums,
And the sleepy four-o'clocks;
He looked at the low lanes bordered
With the glossy-growing box.

He longed for the peace and the silence,
And the shadows that nestled there,


For his wee, wild heart was weary
Of skimming the endless air.

And now in the old green garden-
I know not how it came-
A single pansy is growing,
Bright as a yellow flame.

But whenever a gay gust passes,
It quivers as if with pain,
For the butterfly-soul that is in it
Longs for the winds again!





THE busiest time in a sailor's life is the day
before the ship reaches her harbor. On the after-
noon before our arrival in Acapulco, the crew of the
steamer "Honduras" had to scrub the deck, clean
awnings and carpets and wash the gunwales,
besides piling up barrels and boxes and all kinds of
hardware and heavy freight; and when at last the
bell rung for supper, some of them lay down before
the mast and left their dishes untouched,-they
were too tired to eat. But just before sunset an
old tar sauntered up to the railing of the passen-
ger-deck to take a look at a corner behind the
caboose, where I had stowed my own baggage. He
beckoned one of his comrades, and before long the
whole crew were on their legs,.crowding around the
railing, staring and whispering. Curiosity had
got the better of their weariness.
That man is carrying his own bed along,"
observed the carpenter; that hammock there
does n't belong to our ship. What has he got in
that queer tin box, I wonder?"
"Just look at those funny baskets," said the
cook; "they are made of copper wire, it seems.
That boy of his has got a pole with a sort of a har-

poon: and they have fire-arms, no doubt; they
must be seal-hunters, I think."
That pole looks more like a grappling-hook,"
whispered the mate; "and did you notice that
coil of rope he is sitting on? He has a cutlass,
too. They must be smugglers, I guess."
I could not help overhearing their conversation,
and their remarks amused me so much that I
opened a case with two big Spanish army pistols,
to see if they would take us for disguised pirates.
But I have no right to make fun of my readers,
so I had better tell the truth at once. Those hook-
poles, wire-baskets and things were part of a
hunter's outfit, and we were on our way to the
wilds of the American tropics, to catch pets for a
French menagerie. About nine years ago, the city
of Marseilles, in southern France, was overrun with
fugitive soldiers and vagabonds, and one stormy
night in midwinter the buildings of the zoological
garden caught fire, and thousands of living and
stuffed rare animals were destroyed; for the garden
also contained a museum and a large menagerie-
depot, where showmen and private persons could buy
all the curiosities they wanted. The citizens clamored
for a new Zoo, but the town was very poor just
then, and being unable to get animals from Euro-




pean cities at reasonable prices, they decided to
send out agents to the tropics, and open a men-
agerie-depot of their own. Two commissioners
went to the East Indies, one to Africa, and I was
sent to America. They had only one assistant to
spare, and he was engaged by the East Indian
party; so I took my nephew Tommy along, a boy
of fourteen, who had been in the Pyrenees Mount-
ains with his father, and could talk Spanish nearly
as well as his native language.
Besides Tommy, I had a Mexican lad to take
care of our pack-mule, and a half-Indian guide,-
Daddy Simon, as his countrymen called him,-an
old fellow, who had been all over Spanish America
and knew every village in Southern Mexico. Men-
ito, our little muleteer, was not much older than
Tommy, and as mischievous as a monkey, but not
a bad boy, and a sort of Jack-at-all-trades. He
could wash and cook, mend shoes and harness-

away from home. Black Betsy, our mule, was a
native of Lower California, heavy built and a
powerful eater, but good-natured, like most over-
grown creatures. Her best friend in the world was
a shaggy deer-hound that had been brought from
the same country, and had slept in her straw since
we left San Francisco. His Mexican name was
Rugerio, but we always called him Rough.
Poor Tom had been sea-sick for a day or two,
and was very glad when I told him that this was
our last night on board. When the sun went
down, the coast was veiled by a sea-fog, but toward
midnight we could see the moonlit crest of the peak
of Las V6gas, and soon after the lights of a little
sea-port town glittered on the horizon like rising
stars. Sailors have other ways of sighting the
coast at night,-they can often tell it by the white
mist that hovers over the moist coast-swamps;
and a Portuguese ship, having lost her bearings,


gear, saddle a mule, and paddle a canoe through
the heaviest surf. His father had been a sailor, he
said; but he would never tell us where he had
spent the last two years; I am afraid he had run

and approaching the coast of Cuba in a stormy
night, was once saved by an Indian sailor, who
recognized the smell of the mountain forests, where
thousands of balsam-firs were in full bloom.



~qe~EIC~P--~--- ~-e~r~-Ol~---- Ch
PI~Y-~ ,

:i II


With the first glimmer of dawn we were on deck
again, and when the sun rose it gilded a long range
of coast-hills, capped with clouds which here and
there revealed a glimpse of the inland Sierras, the
wonderland of nature, with its snowy heights and
evergreen valleys.
"Do you see that glittering streak yonder?"
said the captain. "That glittering water-line in
the gap of the coasthills ? That's the valley of the
Rio Balsas; if you are going to cross the Sierras,
you will have to follow that river right up to the
When we approached the harbor, we heard the
boom of a tumultuous sea, and we thought the
breakers looked somewhat dangerous, till a little
pilot-boat came dancing through the surf, so light and
swift that we became ashamed of our apprehensions.
The landing was rather rough; but storm, danger
and sea-sickness were now all forgotten,-we had
reached the harbor of Acapulco. My Tommy
leaped ashore with a loud hurrah, and Black Betsy
cantered up the steep bank as if the pack on her
back were merely a feather. The poor creature
little knew through what thickets and over what
mountains she would have to carry that same pack
before long.
There were several hotels near the landing, but at
Daddy Simon's and Menito's earnest request, I
permitted the old man to guide us to a grassy dell
at the mouth of the river, where we pitched our
tent under a clump of hackberry trees, for our
Mexicans were anxious to show their great skill in
cooking and camping.
As soon as we had put our tent in order, I left
old Simon in charge of the camp, and took the two
boys to the market-place, where pets of all kinds
could be bought like pigs and cattle in our agri-
cultural fairs. Nearly every huckster had a song-
bird or a tame squirrel for sale, and in some of the
larger booths we found parrots and monkeys at
astonishingly low prices. They asked twenty cents
for a squirrel-monkey, and sixty for a young ant-
bear, and only two dollars for a fine talking parrot.
Armadillos and tame snakes could be bought on
the street for a few pennies.
We bought a monkey from a street peddler
for half a dollar. The same man sold us a tame
badger for sixty cents, and on the wharf we met a
couple of fisher-boys who had a still stranger pet, a
big tortoise that followed them like a dog,'and per-
mitted a little child to ride on its back. We bought
it, too, for a French merchant showed us the house
of an honest gardener, who had a large empty store-
room, and who agreed to take care of our Aca-
pulco animals, and feed them half a year for ten
dollars. We understood how he could do it so
cheap, when we found out that bananas are sold in

Acapulco like turnips, by the wagon-load, and that
a netful of fish can be bought for a few coppers.
Our plan was to leave a lot of animals in every
large place we passed through, and after we were

= _- -
. =


done, a freight agent from Marseilles was to col-
lect them and ship them to France.
I finished all my private business in Acapulco that
same day, and early the next morning we passed
through the town in full marching order, and took
the overland road that leads across the mountains
toward the virgin woods of Chiapas and Tabasco.
"Good luck! Good luck to you, friends!"
cried the neighbors, when we passed through the
city gate; they took us for a party of gold-hunters
on the way to the mountain mines. We might
certainly think ourselves lucky in having started so
early, for an hour later, when the high-road was
covered with cars and riders, the dust became
almost suffocating; and .when a Mexican stage-
coach whirled by at full gallop, we hardly could see
the head of the adelantero or outrider, with his
broad hat and fluttering scarf: all the rest was one
big cloud of blinding dust.
"Never mind," said our guide, "we soon shall
reach the river-road, and. leave the highway far to



-~~ ~ ~ *S"--*. $i.; --- -^ --

S-- -- .


the right, and up in the mountains there is hardly
any dust at all."
The river-road proved to be a mere trail. Ten
miles east of Acapulco, the river-valley became
narrow, the trees and bushes looked much fresher,
and the ravines were covered with flowering shrubs.
We had reached our first hunting-grounds.
Why, uncle, look here!" cried Tommy,
"here are some of the same butterflies that are sold
for half a dollar apiece in the Marseilles curiosity-
shops,-oh, and look at that big blue one Stop,
Menito, let me get my butterfly-catcher. Please
get the press, uncle; we can catch ten dollars'
worth of curiosities right here !"
The press" was a sort of paper box with leaves
like a book, for preserving butterflies and small
beetles. For big beetles we had a wide-necked
bottle with ether. Rough, the deer-hound, soon
joined in the chase, though he could find nothing
to suit hiim; we.were still in the Vega, in the Aca-
pulco horse-pastures, where game is very scarce.
At last, he made a dash into a bramble-bush, but
sprang back as if he had seen a snake.
"Come here, quick!-all of you !" shouted
Tommy; "have you ever seen such a lizard?
-two feet long and as red as a lobster.
Hurrah Here we are!"
The lizard scampered ac r..- --
the meadow like a rabbit. -.-
with Tommy at its heels, b., i
soon distanced its pursuer. -' -
and hid out of sight. Liz-
ards seem to enjoy sun-
shine more than other
creatures; at noon, when
the sun stood directly
overhead, even the but- .
terflies retired into the
shade, or fluttered near
the ground, as if the -
heat had scorched their
tender wings; but lizards
of all sizes and all colors -
darted through the gras -
and basked on the sunn, :--- -:'-
faces of the way-side rocks.
"I wonder if that ri-.,:r -- i
water is fit to drink," :i(l .
"Better wait till we real,
spring," I replied; Mr. Sin..n .i -
show us a place where we can et
our dinner, by and by." SEA -AGLES
I do not know about any good FIGHTING.
drinking-water in this neighborhood," said the In-
dian; but I '11 tell you what we can do: there 's
a deserted convent twelve miles from here, an old

building with two good halls and a fine garden,
where we can eat our supper."
Does anybody live there ?" I asked.
No, sir; only an espectro or two," said he.
A what ?"
It used to be a convent, senior, and they say
that there 's an espectro there now,-a ghost that's
watching the money the monks buried before they
left. But he wont hurt us if we sleep there for
one night only."
Is there any good drinking-water there?"
"Yes, sir; a fine spring,-just the place for a
camp; only-I 'm afraid the boys will get tired
before we reach there."
"Not I," said Tommy, stoutly; "Daddy is right;
we ought to keep on till we reach a good place."
Of course," laughed Menito; "let 's go and
see the ghost and have some fun. I shall ask him
where he keeps that money."
Captain, I fear that 's a bad boy," said the old
Indian; "we had better watch him, and stuff a
handkerchief into his mouth if the ghost should
come 'round; those espectros wont stand much."
As we kept steadily uphill, the river-valley became
deeper and narrower, and at the next turn of the
road we entered a forest of pistachio pines, where
1..: 1.:.. .,- it ..f the coast. The ground be-
,:,ni: r...:i:-, and there was nothing to
,_- r irn.l ir. of the neighborhood of the
-- -. ... .cepting some white-winged
-- -.-.- l3, that flew up and down the
rI'-.r. iod often rose with a fish in
-th,.n ..laws. One of them dropped
:I b, fish in mid-air, and another
- :,'i.: matched it before it touched
.- th water; but the rightful owner
S[. pur !.-d him with loud screams,
S andi. ;-hile they were fighting, the
-'~.- dropped again, and this
time reached the water in
time to escape. Here and
there the pistachios were
- mixed with other trees,
-: -- and a little farther up we
: came across a fallen fir-tree,
that looked as if somebody
had b.:, r .::u nag pitch-chips out of it.
I" I l.:r: i ustr be a house very near here,"
.1,i ?,.:nrt.: "there 's a smell in the
:IIr Il:- r I.'. ed acorns."
". N.-.. .'y an Indian wigwam," said
Daddy Simon; "look down there,-you can see
their smoke going up. It's a family of Pinto In-
dians; they build no houses, but sleep in hammocks
with some big tree for their roof."
"Let 's go and see them," I said; "may be
they have monkeys or birds for sale."





Before we reached the wigwam, a curly-headed
little child ran up to us with outstretched hands.
Please gimme a copper," he cried; I will be

a good Johnny; will you gimme a copper now?"
"Certainly," laughed Tommy; "here is one;
where 's your father?"
Behind that tree," said the boy; "he 's skin-
ning a cully for supper."
The cully, or culebra, was a big fat snake, dang-
ling from the projecting bough of a pine-tree. The
Indian had almost finished skinning the snake, and
I am afraid they were actually going to eat it.
".Why, that 's an ugly-sized reptile,-a regular

boa," said I. "How did you manage to kill such
a monster? Have you a gun? "
"No; we are very poor, senior," said the Pinto.
''I killed it with this,"
showing us a heavy
bignonia-wood bow.
-The family seemed
S to be very poor, in-
deed; all their house-
hold stuff might have
S been removed in a
_-_' wheelbarrow. Their
r hammock was made
S-- of a sort of matting,
like coarse coffee-
Sbagging, and the en-
tire cooking outfit
consisted of an iron
kettle and two forked
sticks. The old
squaw was roasting
acorns for supper;
there is an oak-tree
growing in southern
Mexico which our
botanists call the
Quercus Ifex, and
whose acorns taste al-
most like hazel-nuts,
and often are baked
into a sort of sweetish
I.r-a.i. N t- Ii .-,. mock, some twenty gray
iu '', i. .- ;rurijn' iip I asked about them.
rl h .:ii.. ri h:.t l1..:, rrees," explained the old
NP..t-.. in" .:l a.r.i them out by lighting a fire
ured.n !. u. :tr i .. r hmtlmin as fast as they come."
S....: herr. .:f.1p'r they have a monkey,"
--iid .-,t,:a. ur .:crl.-headed young friend was
t.. 1:.11i, tr I, rit rh a i title tamarin-monkey in
I- :,...iv hal. ,ed ,rn._l pitting it as if nursing a
i:.-, bt. Lr ut T d w. e ii, -. me aside.
Pi.: -,... i:le. Jd..,'t Lake that monkey away,"
-a3..: I.e. ', n .:. rthl:.. poor boys have no other

H H i : Lv.r-I ,,:.u would like to sell? I
,.d.i.1e thy un, in that.- u o nia ps-hunter.
"No, sir," said he; "nothing but a few chick-
ens; but there is a humming-bird's nest in that
bush over yonder."
He took us to a large catalpa-bush, at the brink
of a river, and pointed to one of the top branches.
I bent the bough down and found that the bird had
fastened its nest to the lower side of a large leaf, so
deftly and cunningly that one might have passed
that bush a dozen times without noticing anything.
Before we left the wigwam, Tommy gave the little
curly-head another copper.





"That's right," said the little fellow. "Now
gimme your gun, too, please? What for? To
shoot my monkey," said the little Indian.
"Why, you bad boy," laughed Tom; did n't
you promise us you would be a good Johnny? "
I wont shoot him altogether," said Johnny.
"I only want to shoot his head off, because he's
making such faces at me."
The sun had already disappeared behind the
south-western coast-hills when we sighted the ruins
of the convent, on a steep bluff of limestone rocks.
We had some difficulty in getting our mule up;
but Daddy Simon was right; it was a splendid place
for a camping-ground. In front of the building
there was a broad terrace, and a little grass-plot,
strewn with broken stones; the lawn was sur-
rounded with a wildering thicket of briers and
flowering shrubs, and the upper part of the inclos-
ure seemed to have been an orchard, for near the
garden wall the grass was covered with figs and
cetrinos, as the Spaniards call a sort of wild lemon
with a pleasant aromatic scent. Hawk-moths of all
sizes swarmed about the shrubbery, and the air
was filled with the perfume of honeysuckle and
parnassia flowers. At the lower end of the garden
there were two fine springs that formed a little
rivulet at their junction, and farther down, a pond,
where we had a good wash, and then, finding that
we could dispense with a tent for this night, we all
encamped on the terrace around our provision-box.
We had neither tea nor coffee, but the cool spring-
water, with ceiriinos and a little sugar, made an
excellent lemonade, and after our forced march we
would not have exchanged our free and easy picnic
for a banquet in the palace of Queen Victoria.
"There comes the moon," said I. "Do you
think you could find a few more lemons, boys? "
"Yes, try," said the Indian. I am going to
fetch another bucketful of water."
After ten or fifteen minutes, Menito at last re-
turned, with a whole hatful of cetrinos.
I found the best place in the garden," said he.
"The top of that wall is just covered with them.
Why Where is Daddy? "
Listen! said Tom. He's down there, talk-
ing to somebody. Oh, here he comes "
"Why, Mr. Simon, that's not fair," said Menito.
If you met that specter you ought to have told us,
so we could get our share of the money."
"That tongue of yours will get us all into trouble
yet," said Mr. Simon. "No, no; it's old Mrs.
Yegua, the widow who lives on the little farm down
in the hollow. She says her own spring is nearly
dry. Come up, Mrs. Yegua! "
A strange figure appeared on the moonlit terrace-

a figure that would have looked rather specter-like,
indeed, if one. had met her unawares; our dog, at
least, retreated with a frightened growl when she
hobbled up the steps, with a bucket in one hand and
a big stick in the other. She had only one gar-
ment, a sack-like gown without sleeves, but with a
collar-flap that went over her head like a hood.
How do you all do ? said she, shaking hands
with us like an old acquaintance. My spring
turned brackish again," said she, "just like the
year before last, you know. Mr. Simon here tells
me that he saw my Josy in Acapulco."
She then sat down and told us a long story about
her grandson Jose, who had enlisted in the Mexican
army for a drummer, and would be a major by
and by. "Well, I must go," said she, at last.
"I 'm glad I found you all in good health."
"Would n't you take supper with us before you
go ?" said I. Here, try some of these cakes, Mrs.
"No, thank you," said the old lady, putting her
hand on Menito's shoulder; "but if you want to
do me a favor, I would ask you to lend me this boy,
for ten minutes to-morrow morning."
Certainly; but what can he do for you?"
I '11 tell you what it is," said she; there 's a
troop of monos (ceboo monkeys) in that caucho-
wood behind my place, and they rob me nearly
every day, and I can't stand it any longer. Yester-
day morning they broke into my corn-crib, and this
morning again; now, if I had a slim little chap,
like this lad, to hide behind the door, we could
catch every one of them."
"Will you give us the monkeys if we catch
them?" asked Menito.
"Yes," said she, "you can take them; but,
please, don't be too hard on them."
"Why not?"
"They are my only neighbors, you see," said
Mrs. Yegua, and I should not like to get them
into trouble if I could help it."
"Why ? What would you do with them ?"
"I meant to lock them up and keep them on
fair rations," said she. If they run at large, they
take about ten times more than they need; they
somehow seem to have no principles at all."
"Very well, Mrs. Yegua," said I. "I '11 send
Menito over at any time you like."
Yes, please send him early," said she; "we '11
manage it between us two. I know I can fight
them if I have them under lock and key."
The next morning we dispatched Menito at day-
break, and, after helping Daddy to pack the mule,
we all went down to the farm to witness Mrs.
Yegua's fight with her monkey-neighbors.

(To be continued.)



xcIo.] WILL 0 THE WISP. 117



"WIILJ O' THE WISP, Will o' the wisp,
Show me your lantern true!
Over the meadow and over the hill,
Gladly I '11 follow you.

"Never I '11 murmur, nor ask for rest,
And ever I '11 be your friend,
If you '11 only give me the pot of gold
That lies at your journey's end."

And after the light went the brave little boy,
Trudging along so bold;
And thinking of all the fine things he 'd buy
With the wonderful pot of gold:

A house, and a horse, and a full-rigged ship,
And a ton of peppermint drops,
And all the marbles there are in the world,
And all the new kinds of tops."

Will o' the wisp, Will o' the wisp,
Flew down at last in a swamp.
He put out his lantern and vanished away
In the evening chill and- damp.

And the poor little boy went shivering home,
Wet and tired and cold.
He had come, alas to his journey's end,
But where was the pot of gold?







H'M! growled Uncle Jack. What will you
do to me if I wont tell you a story ?"
Hang you on the Christmas-tree! shouted
Joe. Kiss you a thousand times cried Sue.
"Hold! Enough!" exclaimed the besieged
uncle. I'11 come right down. Look here! You
have n't heard about that wonderful machine,
lately invented by somebody, which shows you
things that are going on hundreds of miles away ?"
Tell us about it," chants the full battalion.
"Well, I don't know much about that; but I
have an instrument of my own that will do wonder-
ful things. By looking into it, you can not only
see people that are far off, you can hear what they
are saying and tell what they are thinking; and
what is more, you can look back and see what has
happened to them, and look ahead and see what
is going to happen to them for hours and days to
"Oh, Uncle Give us a look into it, wont you?"
"No; I can't do that. But, if you like, I '11
take a look into it myself, and report what I see."
Presently, Uncle Jack returned from his room,
where all sorts of curious machines were stored,-
microscopes, electrical batteries, and what not,-
bringing with him a curious-looking instrument.
It was composed of two shining cylinders of brass,
mounted like small telescopes, and placed at an
angle, so that one end of one of them was quite
near to one end of the other, and the other
ends were wide apart. Between the adjacent ends
was a prism of beautifully polished glass.
Uncle Jack placed this instrument on a stand in
the bay window, and sat down before it.
"Now you must all retire and be seated," he
said. I do not believe that the machinery will
work unless you keep perfectly still. You must n't
interrupt me with any questions. When I am
through, I will try to explain anything that you do
not understand."
"All right; go ahead!" The battalion was
soon at parade rest, and Uncle Jack proceeded.

The first thing that comes into the field of vision
is a railway-station, about one hundred and fifty
miles from this city. A boy is just entering the
rear door of the last car of the afternoon express,
and quietly depositing himself and his little Russia
bag on the short seat at the end of the car. He
has just taken from his pocket a letter addressed to

"Mark Howland." That is his name. His uncle
Cyrus has invited Mark to spend Christmas with
his cousins in New Liverpool, and he is now on his
way to that metropolis.
There is nothing to fear on account of the
strangeness of the place to which he is going, for
his cousins Arthur and Clarence will meet him at
the station; and there is no reason to doubt the
heartiness of his welcome, for his uncle's family are
not at all "stuck up," if they do live in a fine
house; and his father and mother are not only
willing, but glad to have him go; so the happy light
of expectancy shines out of his eyes.
It has been a busy day with Mark. He was up
at four in the morning to go over the paper-route
with Horace Mills, who is to carry the morning
papers for him during his three days' absence;
then there were many little preparations to make
about the house, for Mark did not wish to take his
pleasuring at the expense of extra work for his father
and mother, whose daily burdens are heavy enough;
and therefore, as far as he can, he has anticipated
the work of the three coming days. This filled
the forenoon. After dinner, there were a few last
errands for his mother, and then there was oIly
time to pack his bag and don his Sunday suit, and
hurry to the station for the four o'clock express.
The evening is cloudy and it is soon dark, and
there is little to see from the windows of the car.
Mark amuses himself for a while in watching the
passengers; but they happen to be an unusually
decorous company, and there is not much enter-
tainment in that occupation. At length, he makes
himself comfortable in his corner of the car, rests
his head against the window-frame, and gives him-
self up to imagining the delights of the coming
day. Presently the speed of the train slackens,
and the brakeman cries: "Lunenburg; ten min-
utes for refreshments; change cars for the Aerial
Line "
While Mark is observing the departure of the
passengers who get down at this station, and
wondering what the Arial Line" may be, he is
surprised to see his uncle Cyrus entering the front
door of the car.
Oh, here you are, Mark he exclaims, as he
espies him. Glad to see you, my boy. How you
grow! But come, bring your bag. We have
changed our plans since morning. I have had an
invitation to spend Christmas with Sir Marmaduke
Monahan, and I am to bring my boys along. You


are one of my boys for the time being, so here
you go. Arthur and Clarence are waiting outside.
I have telegraphed your father, and he knows all
about it. Come on."
Mark picks up his bag and follows his uncle, half-
dazed by the suddenness of this change of plans.
Arthur and Clarence greet him in high glee.
Is n't this a gay old adventure ? cries Arthur.
"You did n't expect anything like this; did you ?"
N-no," answers Mark, rather demurely. He
is not yet sure that he is glad to be cheated out of
his visit to New Liverpool. And then he asks:
But who is Sir Marmaduke Monahan? "
"Don't you know ? cry both the boys. "Why,
he's the one they call The Man in the Moon. When
he was down here the last time, he stopped over
Sunday with us. Papa's one of the aldermen, you
know, and Sir Marmaduke was the guest of the
city; so Papa saw him and asked him to our house.
He 's just the jolliest little old chap. He told
us ever so much about his home, and made us
promise that we would visit him sometime. This
morning we got a telegram from him, and started
this afternoon on short notice."
Now it begins to come to Mark that he has read
in the papers of the establishment of an aerial line
to the moon, the result of one of Edison's won-
derful inventions.
The night is dark and chilly; but at the farther
end of the station a great electric light is blazing,
and thither the four travelers make their way. A
long flight of steps leads up to an elevated platform,
alongside of which, resting upon trestle-work, stands
the great aerial car. It looks a little like one of the
Winans cigar-steamers; its length is perhaps one
hundred and fifty feet, and its shape is that of a
cylinder, pointed at both ends. Just forward of the
middle of the car are two enormous paddle-wheels,
one on each side, not covered in like the paddles
of a North River steam-boat, but in full view.
How soon does it start?" Mark asks his uncle.
In five minutes; there is the captain now."
A man in a bright red uniform is coming out of
the station, with a lantern in his hand. Following
him is a company of thirty or forty little people,
whose singular appearance strikes Mark almost
dumb with astonishment.
"What queer creatures are those ? he whispers.
Those are the moon-folk," answers his uncle.
"You have never seen any of them, have you?
They are getting to be so common in the streets of
New Liverpool that we hardly notice them."
"But what are those things around their heads ?"
"Those are the air-protectors. You know the
atmosphere of the moon is very thin; some of the
astronomers used to say that there was n't any, but
there is; only it is so extremely rare that we were

not able to discover it. The lungs of the moon-
folk are, of course, adapted to that thin atmosphere,
and could not breathe in ours any more than we
could breathe water. So when they come down to
earth they wear these globes, which are hermetically
sealed around their necks, and are very strong, to
protect them from our air."
"Are these globes made of glass? asks Mark.
Yes, they are: the new kind of glass, that is
annealed so that it is flexible and tough as iron."
As the curious little folk go trotting by on their
way to the car, one of them recognizes Mr. How-
land, and gives a queer little jerk of the head.
"That," says Clarence, "is Sir Marmaduke's
steward. He was at our house with his master."
Now the little man halts and holds out to Mr.
Howland a tiny telephone and transmitter. Mark
notes that they communicate with a mouth-piece in-
side the globe which protects the moon-man's head.
That 's the way they have to talk," said Ar-
thur. "There is n't any air to speak of inside
that glass, and so there can't be any sound. But
he manages it with this little telephone. He hears
with his teeth,-that 's the new way of hearing,-
then he speaks into his transmitter, and we can
hear him."
"What was he saying?" asks Arthur, as the
little man hurries on.
"Only that Sir Marmaduke is expecting us, and
that he will see us at the other end of the line,"
replies his father.
"All aboard!" shouts the captain. "Earth-
folk forward; moon-folk abaft the wheel "
Mark observes that two gang-planks run out to
"The Meteor,"-for that is the name of the aerial
car,--and that the little people are passing in over
one of them, and the earth-born passengers over
the other. They all are soon inside a handsome
little saloon, elliptical in shape, furnished with
stuffed lounges and easy-chairs, and a center-table
with a few books and papers, lighted by small win-
dows of thick plate-glass, and warmed by electric
radiators. The sliding door is shut by the guard
and firmly fastened, a few strokes of a musical bell
are heard, a tremulous flutter passes through the
frame of "The Meteor," and the great paddle-
wheels begin to revolve. Mark observes that the
separate paddles of each wheel are constructed so
that, as each one begins the downward and back-
ward stroke, it spreads out like a fan, and then
shuts up as it begins to rise from its lowest position,
so as to offer but little resistance to the air.
The huge ship rises slowly from its timber moor-
ings; the paddle-wheels begin to revolve with great
rapidity; the lights of the village below drop down
and down like falling stars; for a moment, a thick
mist outside hides everything from view-" The




Meteor" is passing through the clouds; in another fourteen hundred and forty miles a day, and we have
moment, the stars above blaze out with wonderful two hundred and.thirty thousand miles to travel."
brilliancy, the clouds are all lying beneath,-a sil- "Whew! cries Arthur. It will take us more
very sea, lit by the rising moon,-and the lights of than a hundred days-almost two hundred-to get
the under world have all disappeared, there, at this rate."
How high up are we now? Clarence asks. "You don't understand," Mr. Howland explains.
His father turns to a barometer on the wall, with "We can only go by means of these paddles
a table of altitudes hanging beside it, and answers: through our atmosphere."
"About six miles, I judge from this table. We "And that," breaks in Arthur, "is only forty-
are not yet fully under headway. But my ears five miles."
begin to ring, and I guess we had better be getting It is more than that. The later conjectures of
on our respirators." the best astronomers, that the atmosphere extends
Following Mr. Howland, the boys all go over to about two hundred miles from the surface of the
the forward part of the saloon, where a gentlemanly earth, have been verified. But just as soon as we
steward is assisting the passengers to adjust these reach the outermost limits of this atmospheric en-
curious contrivances. velope of the earth, we strike the great electric
An elderly gentleman, who has just secured his currents that flow between the earth and the moon.
outfit, is returning to his seat. These currents, at this time of the day, flow toward
Mark notices that he wears over his nose a neatly the moon. They go with immense velocity,-prob-
fitting rubber cap, from the bottom of which a ably twenty thousand miles an hour. This car is
tube extends to the inside pocket of his coat. covered, as you saw, with soft iron, and, by the
"You see," explains his uncle, we are getting electric engines which drive the machinery, it is
up now where the atmosphere is very thin, and converted into an immense electro-magnet, on
presently there will be next to none at all. These which these currents lay hold, sweeping the car
respirators are made for the supply of air to the right along with them. There is no air to resist
earth-folk on their journey through space and dur- the motion, you know, and you are not conscious
ing their stay at the moon, Edison's wonderful of motion any more than you are when drifting
air-condenser is the invention that makes this pos- with the Gulf Stream in the Atlantic."
sible. By this invention, twenty-five thousand cubic "We shall get there, then," Mark figures, "in
feet of air are condensed into a solid block, about about twelve hours from the time we started."
three times as large as a good-sized pocket-book, Yes; if nothing happens we shall land about
that will keep without aerifying in any climate, eight o'clock to-morrow morning. And now, as
There He is slipping one of the bricks of con- there is very little that you can see, and as we shall
densed air into that pouch just now, and handing have a fatiguing day to-morrow, and ought to start
it to that gentleman. You see that it looks a good fresh, I propose that we all lie down upon these
deal like a piece of Parian marble. The tube con- comfortable couches and try to get a night's rest."
nects the pouch containing the condensed air with The boys do not quite relish the suggestion, but
the respirator on the end of the nose, and the they adopt it, nevertheless, and are soon sleeping
moisture of the breath produces a gentle and soundly. An hour or two later, Mark awakens,
gradual aerification, as they call it, or change of and, lifting himself on his elbow, looks out of the
the brick into good air." forward windows. The moon is shining in, and
"How long will one of those chunks of con- such a moon! Talk about dinner-plates or cart-
densed air last ? Mark asks. wheels The great bright shield of this moon
"About twenty-four hours. They can last longer, fills a vast circle of the heavens. It is twenty times
but they are generally renewed every day." bigger than any moon he ever saw. He takes a
"I should think, then," Mark answers, "that quarter-dollar from his pocket and holds it before
earth-folk, while they are in the moon, would feel his eye at a distance of about two inches, and the
like saying in their prayers, 'Give us this day our coin does not hide the planet; a bright silver rim
daily breath,' as well as 'our daily bread.'" is visible all around it. The dark spots on the
"Perhaps," rejoined his uncle, reverently, "they moon's surface are now clearly seen to be deep
might fitly offer that prayer while they are on the valleys and gorges; the mountain ranges come out
earth, too, as well as anywhere else." in clear relief. Mark is at first inclined to wake his.
How fast are we going now ?" Arthur inquires, cousins; but he concludes to wait an hour or two
Possibly sixty miles an hour," says his father. till the view shall be a little finer; and before he
"Sixty miles an hour !" answers Mark. "Why, knows it, he is sound asleep again.
that 's-let me see: six fours are twenty-four, six He is wakened by a general stir in the saloon.
twos are twelve, and two are fourteen. That's only The captain is crying, All ashore the passen-


-. -' _._-'.-._ ._-p :,,, 7. _- ... -::- __-- -

I _w. ---. -;- --. -1? .' -'/ K .- -. _,

!? '" -z -l- ^ *"-; -" .' _" "" - i- -- ~- -
'A~~~r( ii






I, .
FTi -_I




, 2


gers are gathering their hand-luggage, and preparing
to disembark. How in the world, or rather in the
moon, this landing was ever effected, Mark does not
understand. But there is no time now to ask ques-

tions, and he picks up his bag and follows his uncle
and his cousins. The gang-plank leads out to an
elevated platform, crowned with a neat little build-
ing, from the cupola of which a purple-and-white
flag, shaped and colored somewhat like a pansy,
is floating in the faint breeze. In a neat little park
surrounding the station an orderly crowd of the
moon-folk are waiting.
It is the brightest-colored company that Mark
has ever seen. The park fairly glitters and dances
with brilliant hues. The little carriages in which
the gentry are sitting, instead of being painted
dead black, are gay with crimson and purple and
gold. The little ponies themselves have coats as
bright as the plumage of the birds on the earth, and
the costumes of the people are all as gay as color
can make them.
"See! exclaims Clarence; "what do they
mean? They are all waving flags, and they seem
to be shouting, but they do not make any noise."
No noise that you can hear," replied Mr. How-
land. The atmosphere is so rare that it does not
convey the sound to our ears. Perhaps when we
draw nearer we shall hear a little of it."
But what are they shouting for?" asks Arthur.
"They are greeting us," replies his father.
"These are Sir Marmaduke's people-his constitu-
ents perhaps I ought to call them; and they have
come at his summons to give us a welcome."

A handsome young officer now appears on the
platform, and touching his cap to the travelers,
beckons them to follow him. They all descend
the platform and go to the small square in front
of the park, where the car-
riages are waiting. Here
Sir Marmaduke comes
forward to greet them,
lifting his chapeau,, and
extending his hand in a
very cordial fashion.
He is a pleasant-faced
little man, with gray hair;
he is dressed in a purple
uniform with white facings,
and he carries at his side
an elegant little sword.
He puts his fingers to his
ears and points with a
smiling face toward the
multitude in the park (who
are waving their flags and
i their caps, and seem to
be shouting still more
uproariously), as if to say:
"They are making so
much noise that it is of no
OR. use for me to try to talk."
The boys can hardly refrain from laughing at
this dumb show; but a faint murmur comes to
their ears, like the shouting of a multitude miles
away, and they realize that it is not really panto-
mime, though it looks so very like it.
They are led by Sir Marmaduke to the chariotin
waiting. The body of this conveyance is scarlet,
the wheels are gilt, and the cushions are sky-blue;
it is drawn by sixteen ponies, four abreast, each
team of which is driven by a postilion. The
chariot is about as large as an ordinary barouche,
with seats for four; but it towers high above all the
carriages of the moon-folk.
A faint popping comes to their ears, which
seems to be a salute from a battery of electrical
cannon in the upper corner of the park; in the
midst of the salute, the procession moves off. A
band, dressed in scarlet and gold, and playing on
silver instruments, leads the way; the tones resem-
ble the notes of a small music-box, smothered in a
trunk. Sir Marmaduke's body-guard of two hun-
dred cavalry comes next; then Sir Marmaduke him-
self in his carriage of state, drawn by eight ponies;
then the travelers in their chariot; then the grandees
of the moon in carriages, and then the rest of the
military and citizens on foot.
It is about a mile from the station to the palace
of Sir Marmaduke, and the travelers have a chance
to observe the scenery. The surface is quite un-



even; the hills are high and steep, and the valleys Marmaduke, and the travelers, and the grandees,
narrow; the trees are small and somewhat different to dismount and ascend the pavilion; the troops
in form from those on the earth; the grass is fine march past with flying banners and music faintly
and soft, and multitudes of the brightest pink and heard, and the guests are escorted to their rooms in
yellow flowers bloom in the meadows. The houses, the palace, and are told to amuse themselves in any
from all of which the pansy flag is flying, are stone, way that pleases them until dinner shall be ready.
and are nearly all of a single story, built, Arthur "I have read," says Arthur, "that there is no
guesses, in view of earthquakes. moisture on the surface of the moon; but this
Moonquakes, you mean," suggests Mark. vegetation proves that there is. Besides, right
The very moderate laugh with which the other there, is a beautiful fountain playing on the lawn
boys greet this small witticism seems to produce before the palace, and yonder is a river."
consternation among the moon-folk. Sir Marma- "It is true," his father answers, "that there are
duke claps his hands to his ears, the cavalry ponies but few signs of moisture on the side of the moon
in front fall to jumping and prancing, and the that is nearest the earth; but we sailed around last
whole procession is struck with a sudden tremor, night to the other side,-the side that we never see
"Careful, boys!" whispers Mr. Howland. "You from the earth; and here the surface is much
must remember that one of our ordinary tones lower, and there is moisture enough to promote
sounds like thunder to these people, and the rush vegetation. It is only this side of the moon that is
of air from our lungs, when we suddenly laugh or inhabited."
cry out, affects this thin atmosphere somewhat as It is not long before a herald comes to summon
an explosion of nitro-glycerine affects the atmos- our travelers to dinner. They pass through a long
phere of the earth. A sudden outcry in a corridor into the spacious hall of the palace,
louc i.:r, in d., ::r ,i- ',. ." : i : r i- -_r.- M ar-

cohalting a t the steps only long enough to allow Sir of the banqueting hall is visible and th em
aver,.,-_ J -u., t, r., 1 3L (h _v .: of

-" I.f)_


palace; the cavalry is drawn up in ranks on either the room, upon which stands the table prepared
side of the avenue; the carriages pass between, for them. From this elevated position the whole
halting at the steps only long enough to allow Sir of the banqueting hall is visible; and the gay




costumes of the guests, with the splendor of the
table-service and the abundance of the flowers,
make it a brilliant spectacle.
Sir Marmaduke places Mr. Howland on his
right, and his prime minister on his left; the three
boys occupy the seats next to Mr. Howland.
The master of the feast holds in his hand a
speaking-trumpet, with which he can converse with
his guest upon the right; for it is only by the aid
of this that he can make himself heard. The

wires are not working very well; but, with strict
attention, they catch the words of his speech:
"My lords and gentlemen: We are honored in
having with us to-day one of the most distinguished
inhabitants of the earth. Allow me to present him,
and the young gentlemen who are with him, and
to bid him and them, in the name of you all, a
hearty welcome to the moon."
Here the whole company rise and give three
tremendous cheers, which sound to the boys about


waiters who come to serve the earth-folks also have
speaking-trumpets slung around their necks; but
they find little use for them, for the feast proceeds
with great formality and in excellent order.
One course after another is served. Mark has
never seen in his dreams anything so tempting as
this bountiful feast.
Presently the cloth is removed, and the Man in
the Moon rises to propose the health of the earth-
folk. To each of the guests a monstrous ear-
trumpet is handed, with a megaphone attached,
and the boys, at a sign from Mr. 'Howland, draw
back from the table, bring their chairs a little
nearer to Sir Marmaduke, and listen to what he is
saying. His thin voice comes to them as from afar,
a little like the sound of the telephone when the

as loud as the buzz of half a dozen house-flies on a
"There could be no better day than this," Sir
Marmaduke goes on, "for the promotion of peace.
and good-will between the inhabitants of this planet:
and those of Mother Earth." ("Hear! Hear!"
from the multitude below.) "It has been one of
my dearest ambitions to secure more perfect com-
munication and more friendly relations between the
moon and the earth." (" Hear! Hear !" and cheers.).
" I need not refer to the erroneous opinions which
so long were held by our people, concerning the
earth and her inhabitants. You know that, until a
recent period, it was believed by most of our scien-
tific men that the people living on the earth were
quadrupeds,-that each was provided with four


legs, two horns, and a tail." (Sensation.) "The
origin of this opinion is known to you all. Many
centuries ago, a creature from the earth passed
swiftly through our sky one day about noon, and
was seen to return in the direction of the earth.
It was supposed to be one of the earth's inhabit-
ants. It is now known that it was one of their
domestic animals. The event is recorded in the
annals of the earth, and is one of the facts taught
to the children of that planet at a very tender age.
It is referred to in one of their treatises of useful
science in the following manner:
"'Hey diddle diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon.'
"It was a cow, then, my lords and gentlemen,
and not one of the earth-folk, that appeared that
day so suddenly in our sky. Our scientists were
too hasty in their inferences. They should not
have based a theory so broad upon a single fact.
And inasmuch as there have been those among us
who were slow to relinquish the old theory, and loath
to believe that the people of the earth are bipeds
like ourselves, I am greatly pleased to give you to-
day an ocular demonstration of the new theory."
Sir Marmaduke sits down amid great cheering.
Mr. Howland has risen, and is watching for the
applause to subside before beginning his response.
The boys have kept as sober faces as possible, but
the speech of the Man in the Moon has pretty
nearly upset their gravity. Mark is biting his
lips to keep back the merriment, when he sud-
denly turns around and perceives the fat old prime
minister, who has eaten too much Christmas dinner,
asleep in his chair through all this enthusiasm, and
nodding desperately in the direction of a hot pud-
ding that has been left by the waiters before him on
the table. Every nod brings his face a little nearer
to the smoking heap, and finally down goes his nose
plump into the pudding.
It is a little more than the boy can endure. How
*much of it is laugh, and how much cough, and how
much scream, nobody can tell; but there is a tre-
mendous explosion from the mouth and nose of
Mark-an explosion that smashes crockery and up-
sets vases, and sends Sir Marmaduke spinning out
of his chair, and scatters the guests as if a thunder-
bolt had struck the palace. In a few moments the
hall is deserted by all but the master of the feast
and a few of his attendants, with the guests from
the earth, who are looking on in dismay at the havoc
which has been made by Mark's unlucky outburst.
* The good Sir Marmaduke quickly comes forward
to re-assure them.
"Really," he says, "you must not be distressed
about this. No serious harm has been done. The

boy was not to blame. I, too, caught a glimpse of
the old gentleman, making the last desperate nod,
and I could n't help bursting with laughter."
"But the people," says Mr. Howland. "I am
very sorry that we should have had the misfortune
to frighten them so badly."
"You need have no anxiety on that score," re-
plies Sir Marmaduke. "They did not connect the
noise they heard with you in any way. They all
thought it was a moonquake, and they have hurried
home to see whether their houses have sustained
any injury."
While they have been talking, they have been
passing through the hall toward the pavilion. The
chariot of the guests has just appeared in front of
the palace.
"Can it be possible?" exclaims Mr. Howland.
" Our time of departure has come. Good-bye, Sir
Marmaduke. You have done us much honor, and
given us great pleasure."
"Good-bye," returns the gentle host. "I shall see
you here again, I am sure. And I want the boys
to come without fail. The next time, we will take a
little trip to the mountains, and see some of the
craters of the extinct volcanoes, and camp out a
few days where the game and the fish are plenty.
Good-bye. Bon voyage "
The parting guests, thus heartily speeded, mount
their carriage, are whirled to the station, enter
again the saloon of "The Meteor," are lifted upon
the great electric tide then just ebbing, and will
soon, no doubt, be safely landed at the Lunenburg
terminus of the Great Aerial Line.

When Uncle Jack's narration closes there is
silence in the library for half a minute.
"Uncle Jack!" finally ejaculates Sue, with a
good deal of emphasis on "Jack," and with a fall-
ing inflection.
"Let us look into that machine," pleads Joe.
Oh, that machine," says Uncle Jack, in a very
cool way, is my spectroscope. I did not see in
that the things I have been telling you."
What did you see them in ? urges Joe.
Humbug! shouts the knowing Fred. "He
made it all up out of his own head. There! He 's
got the blank-book in his hand, now, that he writes
his stories in. I '11 bet he 's read every word of it
out of that book while he has been sitting there with
his back to us, pretending to look into that old
Alas! my gentle babes," complains the solemn
uncle, slipping the blank-book into his desk. "I
grieve that you should have so little confidence in
me. But you must remember that in these days
of Edison and Jules Verne, nothing is incredible."








S IF I sew, sew, sew, and pull, pull, pull,
. The pattern will come, and the card be full;
SSo it 's criss, criss, criss, and it's cross, cross, cross;
If we have some pleasant work to do we 're never
- - at a loss.

S Oh, dear! I pulled too roughly,-I 've broken
S - through my card.

I feel like throwing all away, and crying real nard.
But no, no, no,-for we never should despair,
So I '11 rip, rip, rip, and I '11 tear, tear, tear.

There you pretty purple worsted, I 've saved you, every stitch
(Because if we are wasteful we never can get rich).
Now I '11 start another tablet, and I 'll make it perfect yet,
And Mother '11 say: Oh, thank you, my precious little pet! "



LOOK on the map of Asia, and see the peninsula
of Corea hanging out from the main-land like our
Florida. It lies just between China and Japan,
and is of the same size as Minnesota or Great
Britain. Perhaps as many as ten million people
live in Corea, so that there must be at least two
million children there. They all dress in white.
Their clothes are made of cotton or of bleached
sea-grass. One of the greatest labors of a Corean
housekeeper is the whitening of her husband's and
children's clothes for a gala day. To see a gang
of Corean farmers laboring in the rice-fields, re-
minds one of a flock of big white birds, like the
snowy heron of Japan.
Corea is a forbidden land. Until three years
ago, no foreigner was allowed to set foot on her
shores. Corea was like a house full of people, but
shut up, with gates barred, and No Admittance"
nailed up everywhere. When sailors were ship-
wrecked on the shores, the Coreans fed and housed
them, but always sent them out of the country
as quickly as possible. Englishmen, Russians, and
Americans sometimes came to Corea and said: "Be
sociable and open your doors. We want to trade
with you. We have nice machines and cloth and

corn and clocks and guns, which we want you to
buy; and you have gold and tiger-skins and cattle
and silk to sell to us. Please open your doors."
"We wont! said the King of Corea and all
his court. "We 're a little kingdom in the corner
of the earth. Our country is four thousand years
old; it has done without your clocks and coal-oil
so far. We don't want to trade. Good-bye. Please
go away."
So they all went away, and said Corea was like
a hermit-crab in a shell, showing nothing but its
claws. And so the great world knows no more
of Corea than if it were a patch of moon-land.
But in 1876 the Japanese sent a great fleet of war-
ships to Corea, and General Kuroda acted as Com-
modore Perry did in Japan in 1853. He had rifled
cannon and plenty of powder at hand, but he did
not fire a shot. He gained a "brain-victory" over
the Coreans, and they made a treaty with the
Japanese; and the merchants of Japan now travel
and trade in the country. One of these merchants,
who perhaps had children of his own, and wished
to make them a New Year's present on his return
home, collected a number of the toys of Corean
children. Of these, the artist Ozawa made a sketch



and sent it to the writer. Now, some of the games of
Japanese children are borrowed from the Coreans;
and so, from seeing them, we know something
about play and toys in Corea.
First, there is the jumping-jack, or "sliding
Kim," we ought to call it, for Kim is a Corean
name. A little Corean boy (a wooden one, of
course) holds a trumpet in his right hand. When
the string is pulled down, he puts out his tongue;
when it slides up, in goes the tongue, and the
trumpet flies to his lips. The hat and feather, and
dress with fringed sleeves, are exactly like those
of live, rollicking children in the Corean homes.
Below, in the copy of Ozawa's sketch, you will see
the trumpet on which real Corean boys blow, and
all the toys here mentioned.
The Corean Adne, or boy, is very fond of play-
ing with little dogs. He puts a coat on Master
Puppy, teaching him to sit with his fore-paws on
his knees. When the dog grows up, he may be
trained to hunt the tiger. Tigers are very large
and numerous in Corea. If you were to step into
the parlor of a fine Corean house, you would see
a tiger-skin spread out as a rug. On this the little
boy plays, rollicking with his companions, or beats
the drum, on which a dragon is painted.
For a rattle, the Corean baby plays with the
dried skin of a round-bodied fish filled with beans.
When the Corean boys wish to play soldiers," or
imitate the king's procession, they can beat the

drum, blow the trumpet, and march with their
spear-headed flags. These are made of silk, em-
broidered with flowers and tipped with white horse-
hair. In the middle will be the royal chariot, with
a top like a fringed umbrella, silken hangings, and
brass-bound wheels. In this the king rides. The
big hats are as large as parasols, and have plumes
of red horse-hair. One has a flap around the
edge to keep off the sun. The state umbrella,
which is only held over men of high rank, is also
tasseled with horse-hair dyed red. The Coreans
are very fond of ornament, and all their flags,
banners, and fine articles of use are decorated
with horse-hair, pheasant and peacock feathers, or
tigers' tails.
On the left are seven pin-wheels set in one frame.
With this, the Corean boy runs against the wind.
The "boat-cart" is shaped like a Corean river-
skiff, and has wheels, carved to represent arrows.
When the little Corean grows to be a man, he
practices archery or horsemanship, becomes a stu-
dent, hunts the tiger, or settles down to business.
There are plenty of fishermen, but hardly any
sailors, in the country, for the Coreans never travel
abroad. We hope that Corea and the United
States will yet have a treaty, and then we shall
become better acquainted with these stay-at-home
people. Only one Corean has ever visited this coun-
try. He was dressed like a Japanese, and attended
the Centennial Exhibition at Philadelphia in 1876.




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i880.] THE MILLER OF DEE. 135


(A True Story.)


. .- .' a.-. .-- -.a T

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:2X T_ _

- 1 A- -
f.-4 "" 'ir : '


WILL CROCKER, whose adventure among a
drove of buffaloes I am about to relate, was a
young herdsman of the Lone Star State, and was, I
regret to say, as wild and uneducated a boy as
could be found in that far from classical region.
'But, though Will was uneducated, he was clever-
witted. He was not the kind of boy who, as the
French say, "would tie a hungry dog to a tree
with a string of sausages"; and, if he was ignorant
of mathematics and geography, he was well in-
formed on all matters relating to his father's call-
ing. He could manage a horse as well as the best
man on the ranch, and was a fair rifle-shot and
a good drover.
But Will had one great defect. He was ex-
tremely obstinate, and his father had not enough
force of character to check the fault. So, at seven-
teen years of age, Will was of such a self-willed
disposition that to advise him in one direction was
almost sure to make him take the opposite course.
On one occasion, this obstinacy brought Will
into trouble which nearly proved fatal.
The drovers had got back from San Antonio,

whither they had driven their herds, and were
going on a grand buffalo hunt. There were six of
them-" Old man Crocker," as Will's father was
called, to distinguish him from his son, a French-
man named Henry Leclerc, a Dutchman, nick-
named "Dutch," two Mexican vaqueros, and last,
but by no means least, our friend Will.
It is impossible to hunt buffaloes on a horse
unused to the business. But the following morn-
ing, as the hunters were about to start, Will
appeared among them, mounted on a powerful
black horse called Bonanza, which reared and
plunged in a manner that would have unseated a
less practiced horseman.
"Hello! said Crocker. "What 're you doin'
on that horse ? "
"Going buffalo-hunting, of course," replied his
son, as the animal he bestrode stood up on its hind
legs, threatening to fall over backward, and vigor-
ously gesticulated with his fore feet.
"You can't hunt buffalo on that horse!" said
his father. "Go back and get another; and be
quick. We 're going to start right away."




"Start as soon as you please," replied Young
Obstinacy. "But I 'l be the first man past "
His remarks were cut short by Bonanza suddenly
reversing himself and standing on his front feet,
causing his enterprising rider to slide forward upon
his neck. Dutch, seeing this, spoke up:
You can't go to a buffalo up mit dat horse "
You fellows attend to your own affairs," re-
marked Will, disrespectfully, "and I '11 attend to
the horse. He 's the fastest beast here, and I 'in
just about smart enough to put him alongside a
buffalo, whether he wants to go or not."
It makes me noding odds if you go hunt on a
steam-engine," observed Dutch.
"Remember what we 're telling you," said
Crocker, when we strike buffalo and that critter
runs away."
The horse does n't live that can run away with
me," replied Will, confidently, and the little caval-
cade' cantered off briskly toward the buffalo-past-
ures of the south-west.
It was a beautiful morning, peculiar to the Texan
climate. The rising sun gilded the flower-decked
plain, and from the tall grasses rose flocks of gay-
feathered birds; while the balmy air of early fall

shouted and sang, as their powerful horses, with
equal animation, bore them swiftly onward.
The second afternoon out, a buffalo-herd was
discovered feeding far to the south, resembling a
flock of black sheep in the distance.
A halt was at once called, and preparation made
for a descent upon the game in the morning. The
horses were tethered by long raw-hides, and the
men proceeded to put their guns and ammunition
in order. The next morning dawned fresh and
clear. The buffaloes were still in sight, though
farther away; and, as the wind blew from the
hunters toward the herd, a long detour was made,
in order to approach them from the opposite side.
At length, the hunters dashed among them and
commenced the work of destruction. Will's horse,
the unreliable Bonanza, behaved well while among
his companions; but no sooner did they scatter
than he became unmanageable, and his rider
heartily wished.he had taken his father's advice in
relation to the animal, as he found he was going to
be left out of the sport.
There were no breech-loading guns in the party,
and it would astonish a crack sportsman-with his
repeating Winchester and ready-loaded shells in a

7 ----_--- ---- ---

%. -
- -i- : :. 2--
< ~ ~ ;-- '- - --


blew, fresh and invigorating, into the faces of the convenient belt-to see a horseman charge a muz-
horsemen. With spirits raised by that sense of ex- zle-loader from the saddle.
hilaration which comes of rapid motion, the riders The report of the hunters' rifles gradually dif-







LITERATURE is a very big thing, young friends; and
a box, you know, especially a treasure-box, suggests
something rather small. But we hope to make this par-
ticular box so precious to you for its contents' sake, that
it will remind you of the fairy caskets which, at command,
filled themselves with magical wealth, or the vessels that
sent forth giants and genii, lifted by their own beautiful
clouds of golden mist. After all, that is just what a
literary treasure-box ought to be; and we hope that very
often, when you raise the lid of this one, wonderful
things may float out of it toward you,-float out and
expand into lifting mists of fancy, or turn to glittering
jewels of thought, or settle into beautiful drifts of--
Dear, dear! This will never do. It is true, but
after all, our box is supposed to be a very solid little
affair, and not in the least up to fairy tricks. Therefore,
the best way is to tell just what we propose to put
into it, and why we have it at all.
To begin with: Our plan is to put into the Treasure-
Box, from month to month,-though not necessarily every
month,-standard poems, short stories and sketches,
each fine in its way, and selected for you, with their
publishers' consent, from works already printed, though
not always within easy reach of boys and girls. Occa-
sionally, we may print a long story or poem entire, but
we shall reserve the privilege of omitting a verse or a
paragraph whenever the, interests of our young readers
will be best served by our doing so. To add to the in-
terest, many new pictures and sometimes portraits of the
authors shall be given. We shall not shut out a good
thing because it is familiarly known; for, if this is to be
their treasure-box in earnest, whatever the boys and girls
are most sure to love should have a permanent place in
it. As a rule, we shall say very little about the several
authors, trusting, rather, that the selections given will
incite you to find out for yourselves more about them
and their works.
Many may wonder why we are tempted to make room
for this treasure-box in a magazine already crowded;
and yet it would be hard for us to give a good reason
why room should not be made for it. Our strongest
motive is the feeling that it will be a good thing for you
to have certain fugitive and beautiful writings safely
stored within your own magazine,-writings to which you
may confidently turn for specimens of standard English,
and from which you can, when you wish, select pieces for
recitation. But, beyond all this, we want to make you
better acquainted with us grown folk. Children and
their elders, in spite of near relationships and happy

home-ties, are too apt to be ignorant in regard to each
other. Though familiar enough in some ways, they are,
in others, too far apart. The children need to know how
their elders really feel, just as the grown folk need to
understand better the secret workings of the eager, long-
ing, wondering spirits that animate their troublesome
and dearly loved boys and girls.
Gifted men and women are the spokespeople of all the
rest. They write, they paint, they act, or they live the
best and truest things that are in us all, but which they
alone can express fitly. A good writer represents not
merely his own soul, but the souls of his race. In truth,
what we call our enjoyment and appreciation of a writer
or poet is simply a succession of grateful surprises, when
he shows us what our souls know, or nearly know,
already. A human soul, however generous or poetic it
may be, must recognize a thought before it welcomes it;
and this is one great reason why we all require education:
so that we may recognize the things, deeds, and thoughts
that are to delight and elevate us, and lead us in brother-
hood to the Highest. Any little boy or girl may be one
with the world in this upward march. Every time a fine,
true thought or feeling-never mind how simple it is, or
whether it is mirthful or pathetic, or comforting or in-
spiring-enters any soul, it is sure to add to this beautiful
power of recognition that forms the chief joy of life.
And so, why not have literary treasure-boxes ready
for fine thoughts, true feelings, bright humor, and
happy fancies ?
Then, again, we do not feel that well-packed school-
readers, "compilations," and encyclopedias-all impor-
tant as these are in their way-can do for you just what
this box can do. The school-reader has its drawbacks,
because to read a fine thing while cozily seated on
the window-seat, or by the fire-place, or swinging in a
hammock, or lying under a tree, is quite different from
reading it aloud, just so many lines in your turn, while
standing with other readers in a row, under a vivid sense
of pronunciation, intonation, and the vigilant, long-suffer-
ing attention of your teacher. Encyclopedias and collec-
tions are sometimes dangerous to young folks, because
they give an idea that a certain amount of good literature
must be acquired, and that here is the cream of it,
skimmed and ready, and the sooner you begin swallowing
it the better, especially if you are not in the least hungry
for it-most especially, then, for it shows how much your
mental system needs it. We once heard an honest girl
say, after looking through an encyclopedia of literature:
" Mercy, aunty! It 's not all here! These are only



' specimens,' after all! Every one of these horrid
authors has written books and books. It 's too mean
for anything! "
Poor girl! She was not hungry, you see, and the
prospect of such a never-ending repast dismayed her.
Now, to change the figure, literature is not a bugbear
nor a task-master. It is a mine of delight and satisfac-
tion. But just as you hold its gems to the light, just so

much will they sparkle and glow for you. So this treas-
ure-box has no claim on you at all. It is yours if you
care for it, and not yours if you do not. It does not pre-
sume to be as complete as an encyclopedia, nor as well
regulated as a school-reader, and its continued existence
must depend upon the approval of our boys and girls.
This time, the Treasure-box holds for you a story and
a poem, each telling of human life and human nature.

MANY of you already know of Nathaniel Hawthorne* through his delightful Wonder Tales and shorter stories.
He is America's great romancer, and a prince among the highest in literary style and purity of English. Each race
loves its own 1 a. - .:. and gives a high place of honor to the writer who uses it best, showing its strength and
its beauty most :I lluii ;, and bringing out its powers of expressing every thought and shade of meaning. You will
like "David Swan," we think, and feel how simply and beautifully the story is told.



WE have nothing to do with David until we find
him, at the age of twenty, on the high road from
his native place to the city of Boston, where his
uncle, a small dealer in the grocery line, was to
take him behind the counter. Be it enough to say,
that he was a native of New Hampshire, born of
respectable parents, and had received an ordinary
school education, with a classic finish by a year at
Gilmanton Academy. After journeying on foot
from sunrise till nearly noon of a summer's day, his
weariness and the increasing heat determined him to
sit down in the first convenient shade and await the
coming up of the stage-coach. As if planted on
purpose for him, there soon appeared a little tuft of
maples, with a delightful recess in the midst, and
such a fresh, bubbling spring that it seemed never
to have sparkled for any wayfarer but David Swan.
Virgin or not, he kissed it with his thirsty lips, and
then flung himself along the brink, pillowing his
head upon some shirts and a pair of pantaloons,
tied up in a striped cotton handkerchief. The sun-
beams could not reach him; the dust did not yet
rise from the road after the heavy rain of yesterday;
and his grassy lair suited the young man better
than a bed of down. The spring murmured drow-
sily beside him; the branches waved dreamily
across the blue sky overhead; and a deep sleep,
perchance hiding dreams within its depths, fell
upon David 'Swan. But we are to relate events
which he did not dream of.
While he lay sound asleep in the shade, other
people were wide awake, and passed to and fro,
afoot, on horseback, and in all sorts of vehicles,
along the sunny road by his bed-chamber. Some
looked neither to the right hand nor the left, and
knew not that he was there; some merely glanced
that way, without admitting the slumberer among
their busy thoughts; some laughed to see how
soundly he slept; and several, whose hearts were
brimming full of scorn, ejected their venomous

superfluity on David Swan. A middle-aged widow,
when nobody else was near, thrust her head a little
way into the recess, and vowed that the young
fellow looked charming in his sleep. A temper-
ance lecturer saw him, and wrought poor David
into the texture of his evening discourse as an awful
instance of dead-drunkenness by the road-side.
But censure, praise, merriment, scorn, and indiffer-
ence were all one, or rather all nothing, to David
He had slept only a few moments, when a brown
carriage, drawn by a pair of handsome horses,
bowled easily along and was brought to a stand-
still nearly in front of David's resting-place. A
linchpin had fallen out, and permitted one of the
wheels to slide off. The damage was slight, and
occasioned merely a momentary alarm to an elderly
merchant and his wife, who were returning to
Boston in the carriage. While the coachman and
a servant were replacing the wheel, the lady and
gentleman sheltered themselves beneath the maple-
trees, and there espied the bubbling fountain, and
David Swan asleep beside it. Impressed with the
awe which the humblest sleeper usually sheds around
him, the merchant trod as lightly as the gout would
allow; and his spouse took good heed not to rustle
her silk gown lest David should start up all of a
How soundly he sleeps," whispered the old
gentleman. "From what a depth he draws that
easy breath Such sleep as that, brought on with-
out an opiate, would be worth more to me than
half my income; for it would suppose health and
an untroubled mind."
And youth besides," said the lady. Healthy
and quiet age does not sleep thus. Our slumber
is no more like his than our wakefulness."
The longer they looked, the more did this elderly
couple feel interested in the unknown youth, to
whom the way-side and the maple shade were as a

* Born 1804-died 1864.




secret chamber, with the rich gloom of damask cur-
tains brooding over him. Perceiving that a stray
sunbeam glimmered down upon his face, the lady
contrived to twist a branch aside, so as to intercept
it. And having done this little act of kindness, she
began to feel like a mother to him.
"Providence seems to have laid him here,"
whispered she to her husband, 'and to have
brought us hither to find him, after our disappoint-

ment in our cousin's son. Methinks I can see a
likeness to our departed Henry. Shall we awaken
him ?"
"To what purpose?" said the merchant, hesi-
tating. We know nothing of the youth's
"That, open countenance replied his wife, in
the same hushed voice, yet earnestly. "This
innocent sleep !"
While these whispers were passing, the sleeper's

. - ----
---'- ; .
,-' ^
^7 ^ -- ^
,/ .



heart did not throb, nor his breath become agitated,
nor did his features betray the least token of inter-
est. Yet Fortune was bending over him, just ready
to let fall a burden of gold. The old merchant had
lost his only son, and had no heir to his wealth
except a distant relative, with whose conduct he
was dissatisfied. In such cases, people do stranger
things than to act the magician, and awaken to
splendor a young man who fell asleep in poverty.
"Shall we not waken
him?" repeated the lady,
The coach is ready,

The old couple started,
reddened, and hurried
away, mutually wondering
that they should ever have
dreamed of doing anything
so very ridiculous. The
merchant threw himself
Back in the carriage, and
.i occupied his mind with
i. -. the plan of a magnificent
S asylum for unfortunate men
of business. Meanwhile,
David Swan enjoyed his
The carriage could not
have gone above a mile or
two when a pretty young
girl came along, with a trip-
ping pace, which showed
precisely how her little heart
was dancing in her bosom.
Perhaps it was this merry
kind of motion that caused
-,,?. --is there any harm in say-
ing it ?--her garter to slip
Sits knot. Conscious that
the silken girth-if silk it
were-was relaxing its hold,
she turned aside into the
shelter of the maple-trees,
and there found a young
man asleep by the spring!
Blushing as red as any rose, that she should have
intruded into a gentleman's bed-chamber, and for
such a purpose, too, she was about to make her
escape on tiptoe. But there was peril near the
sleeper. A monster of a bee had been wander-
ing overhead,-buzz, buzz, buzz,-now among the
leaves, now flashing through the strips of sun-
shine, and now lost in the dark shade, till finally
he appeared to be settling on the eyelid of
David Swan. The sting of a bee is sometimes


deadly. As free-hearted as she was innocent,
the girl attacked the intruder with her hand-
kerchief, brushed him soundly, and drove him from
beneath the maple shade. How sweet a picture !
This good deed accomplished, with quickened
breath and a deeper blush, she stole a glance at the
youthful stranger for whom she had been battling
with a dragon in the air.
He is handsome," thought she, and blushed
redder yet.
How could it be that no dream of bliss grew so
strong within him, that, shattered by its very
strength, it,should part asunder and allow him to
perceive the girl among its phantoms? Why, at
least, did no smile of welcome brighten upon his
face ? She was come, the maid whose soul, accord-
ing to the old and beautiful idea, had been severed
from his own, and whom, in all his vague but
passionate desires, he yearned to meet. Her, only,
could he love with a perfect love,- him, only,
could she receive into the depths of her heart,-
and now her image
: was faintly blushing
S' / in the fountain by


I .

never gleam upon his life again.
How sound he sleeps!" murmured the girl.
She departed, but did not trip along the road so
lightly as when she came.
Now, this girl's father was a thriving country
merchant in the neighborhood, and happened, at
that identical time, to be looking out for just such

a young man as David Swan. Had David formed
a way-side acquaintance with the daughter, he
would have become the father's clerk, and all else
in natural succession. So here again had good
fortune-the best of fortunes-stolen so near that
her garments brushed against him; and he knew
nothing of the matter.
The girl was hardly out of sight when two men
turned aside beneath the maple shade. Both had
dark faces, set off by cloth caps, which were drawn
down aslant over their brows. Their dresses were
shabby, yet had a certain smartness. These were
a couple of rascals who got their living by whatever
the devil sent them, and now, in the interim of
other business, had staked the joint profits of their
next piece of villainy on a game of cards, which
was to have been decided here under the trees.
But, finding David asleep by the spring, one of the
rogues whispered to his fellow: Hist! Do you
see that bundle under his head ?"
The other villain nodded, winked, and leered.
I 'll bet you a horn of brandy," said the first,
"that the chap has either a pocket-book, or. a snug
little hoard of small change stowed away amongst
his shirts. And if not there, we shall find it in his
"**. I how if he wakes?" said the other.
1-i- ._-:.mpanion thrust aside his waistcoat,
p':.!.- d r.:. the handle of a dirk, and nodded.
"-" I..1- it !" muttered the'second villain.
Th-. -pproached the unconscious David, and,
h1I- .:.rn pointed the dagger toward his heart, the
..thr! l i, .__n to search the bundle beneath his head;
r! l! I ..:. faces, grim, wrinkled, and ghastly with
.illr ind fear, bent over their victim, looking
h:..rrible enough to be mistaken for fiends,
should he suddenly awake. Nay,
i had the villains glanced aside
into the spring, even they would
S hardly have known themselves,
S as reflected there. But David
-' -. Swan had never worn a more
tranquil aspect, even when
asleep on his mother's breast.
i ni.it take away the bundle," whispered one.
it' I .. stirs, I '11 strike," muttered the other.
iut, ',r that moment, a dog, scenting along the
o- .- nr,. .: ime in beneath the maple-trees and gazed
alternately at each of these wicked men, and then
at the quiet sleeper. He then lapped out of the
Pshaw !" said one villain, we can do nothing
now. The dog's master must be close behind."
Let's take a drink and be off," said the other.
The man with the dagger thrust back the weapon
into his bosom and drew forth a pocket-pistol, but
not of that kind which kills by a single discharge.




It was a flask of liquor, with a block-tin tumbler
screwed upon the mouth. Each drank a comfort-
able dram and left the spot, with so many jests and
such laughter at their un-

\ -- -' .

accomplished wickedness that they might be said to
have gone on their way rejoicing. In a few hours
they had forgotten the whole affair, nor once imag-

ined that the recording angel had written down the
crime of murder against their souls, in letters as
durable as eternity. As for David Swan, he slept
quietly, neither conscious of the shadow of death
when it hung over him, nor of the glow of renewed
life when that shadow was withdrawn.
H.: -_lept, but no longer so quietly as at first.
Ai I-,..r's repose had snatched from his elastic
I. -in.: rile weariness with which many hours of toil
h-,.1 I.u.dened it. Now he stirred; now moved his
iq-. . rout a sound; now talked, in an inward
i.:..,. r.-, the noonday specters of his dream. But a
ir...i.: .Cr wheels came rattling louder and louder
....,. the road, until it dashed through the dis-
-..- Lz rg mist of David's slumber; and there was
ih.- r age-coach. He started up, with all his ideas
: ib...ir him.
S H. lloo, driver! Take a passenger?" shouted he.
Room on top," answered the driver.
S Up mounted David and bowled
S away merrily toward Boston, with-
out so much as a parting glance
Sat that fountain of dream-like vicis-
,o "2- situde. He knew not that a phan-
tom of Wealth had thrown a golden hue
ii [:".- its waters, nor that one of Love had
:i::!!id softly to their murmur, nor that one of
iL'.-:ii had threatened to crimson them with
his blood; all in the brief hour since he lay
down to sleep. Sleeping or waking, we hear
not the airy footsteps of the strange things that
almost happen.

KING CANUTE," by the great English author, William Makepeace Thackeray,*-" dear old Thackeray we
grown folks often call him,-points to the absurdity and wickedness of flattery, and the greater kingliness that
comes to an earthly king when he owns his mortal dependence on the Ruler of all things. Like everything else
that came from Thackeray's pen, it shows a faith in honesty and a scorn of all that is fawning or untrue. Human
"parasites," as you will see, were not favorites with him.
Thackeray is one of the world's spokesmen still, though he died years ago.



KING CANUTE was weary-hearted; he had reigned for years a score,
Battling, struggling, pushing, fighting, killing much and robbing more;
And he thought upon his actions, walking by the wild sea-shore.

'Twixt the Chancellor and Bishop, walked the King with steps sedate,
Chamberlains and grooms came after, silver-sticks and gold-sticks great,
Chaplains, aides-de-camp and pages,-all the officers of state.

Sliding after like his shadow, pausing when he chose to pause,
If a frown his face contracted, straight the courtiers dropped their jaws;
If to laugh the King was minded, out they burst in loud hee-haws.
Born 18ii-died 1863.




But that day a something vexed him; that was clear to old and young;
Thrice His Grace had yawned at table when his favorite gleemen sung,
Once the Queen would have consoled him, but he bade her hold her tongue.

" Something ails my gracious master !" cried the Keeper of the Seal,
"Sure, my lord, it is the lampreys served for dinner, or the veal?"
" Psha! exclaimed the angry monarch, Keeper, 't is not that I feel.

" 'T is the heart, and not the dinner, fool, that doth my rest impair;
Can a king be great as I am, prithee, and yet know no care?
Oh, I 'm sick, and tired, and weary." Some one cried: "The King's arm-chair!"

Then toward the lackeys turning, quick my lord the Keeper nodded,
Straight the King's great chair was brought him, by two footmen able-bodied;
Languidly he sank into it; it was comfortably wadded.

" Leading on my fierce companions," cried he, over storm and brine,
I have fought and I have conquered Where was glory like to mine?"
Loudly all the courtiers echoed: "Where is glory like to thine?"

"What avail me all my kingdoms? Weary am I now and old;
Those fair sons I have begotten long to see me dead and cold;
Would I were, and quiet buried, underneath the silent mold!

" Oh, remorse, the writhing serpent! at my bosom tears and bites;
Horrid, horrid things I look on, though I put out all the lights;
Ghosts of ghastly recollections troop about my bed at nights.

" Cities burning, convents blazing, red with sacrilegious fires;
. Mothers weeping, virgins screaming vainly for their slaughtered sires."
" Such a tender conscience," cries the Bishop, everyone admires.

SLook, the land is crowned with minsters which your Grace's bounty raised;
Abbeys filled with holy men, where you and Heaven are daily praised;
You, my lord, to think of dying? on my conscience, I 'm amazed "

"Nay, I feel," replied King Canute, that my end is drawing near."
" Don't say so!". exclaimed the courtiers (striving each to squeeze a tear).
" Sure your Grace is strong and lusty, and may live this fifty year."

" Live these fifty years!" the Bishop roared, with actions made to suit.
"Are you mad, my good Lord Keeper, thus to speak of King Canute !
Men have lived a thousand years, and sure His Majesty will do 't.

" Adam, Enoch, Lamech, Cainan, Mahaleel, Methusela
Lived nine hundred years apiece, .and may n't the king. as well as they?"
"Fervently," exclaimed the Keeper,-" fervently I trust he may."

"He to die?" resumed the Bishop. "He a mortal like to us?
Death was not for him intended, though communis omnibus; *
Keeper, you are irreligious for to talk and cavil thus.

"With his wondrous skill in healing ne'er a doctor can compete,
Loathsome lepers, if he touch them, start up clean upon their feet;
Surely he could raise the dead up, did His Highness think it meet.
Meaning: Common to all.





Did not once the Jewish captain stay the sun upon the hill,
And the while he slew the foemen, bid the silver moon stand still?
So, no doubt, could gracious Canute, if it were his sacred will."

Might I stay the sun above us, good Sir Bishop ?" Canute cried;
Could I bid the silver moon to pause upon her heavenly ride?
If the moon obeys my orders, sure I can command the tide!



fused uneasiness among the buffaloes, which num-
bered two thousand or more, and they began to
move, followed by the relentless horsemen.
In their course they again approached the horse
of our disappointed friend. Will tried desperately
to get close enough for a shot. He succeeded, but
a scared bull, with shaggy front and furious, twink-
ling eyes, charged toward Bonanza, and that animal
turned and fled ignominiously.
The now terrified buffaloes closed in upon the
panic-stricken horse, and soon Will was surrounded
by the shaggy herd. He tugged vainly at the bit;
and the loud laughter of his companions, who
remembered his boast on starting out, grew fainter
as he was borne swiftly away.
He was not at all alarmed till he looked back
and saw that he was fast leaving the men out of
sight. Then flashed upon him the thought of how
powerless he was in the midst of the unwieldy herd.
He was completely surrounded, and the frightened
buffaloes were running at their swiftest speed,
which they would probably continue for hours.
He thought of stopping his horse by taking off
his coat and putting it over the animal's eyes. But
then, should the horse stop, he would be knocked
down by the buffaloes, and both of them be
pounded to death beneath the feet of the herd.
So powerful are these clumsy beasts that in a
large herd they are almost invincible. They leave
a track behind them which much resembles a
plowed field. Should one of the number lose its
footing, it is almost sure to be killed by its com-
panions, as those in the rear, crowding upon the
forward ranks, make a pause impossible.
Crocker observed his son's peril first. He was
heard to cry out suddenly, and then, applying his
spurs, he galloped in the rear of the fast-retreating
herd. Leclerc and Dutch followed hard upon his
heels, but the colder-blooded Mexicans remained
to skin the buffaloes the little party had slain.
Meanwhile, Will had given himself up for lost.
But he looked his peril in the face, with a courage
begotten of a life among dangers.
Suddenly, a desperate thought occurred to him.
He had heard drovers and trappers tell of Indian
hunters whose mode of killing buffaloes was by

running on their backs, jumping from one to an-
other, and spearing them as they ran. Why could
not he escape that way? The animals were close
together and, though a misstep would be fatal, to
remain in his present position was certain death.
A dense cloud of black dust hung over the herd,
through which naught was visible but the tossing
sea of beasts near him. He, therefore, had no
idea how many of the animals intervened between
himself and safety. His chances of escape seemed
not one in ten, but the stumbling of his horse
decided him to make the attempt.
More thoughtful than most boys would have
been in the face of a danger like his, he unbuckled
his horse's bridle and tied it around his gun (which
he carried strapped to his back), and then, getting
off his saddle on to the horse's withers, he loosed
the girth and let it fall to the ground, intending,
should he succeed in making his escape, to go back
and pick it up. He now rose to his feet on the
horse's back, holding to the animal's mane, and in
an instant leaped to the nearest buffalo, holding
his gun, like a balancing-pole, in both hands.
The animal plunged, but he jumped to the next
and the next, like Eliza crossing the Ohio on the
ice, in "Uncle Tom's Cabin." He had accom-
plished half the distance, when one of the buffaloes,
seeing him coming, jumped to one side. The
boy fell between, but dropped his gun in time to
grasp the animal by its long hair, and with diffi-
culty he climbed upon the terrified and plunging
creature, and jumped desperately on till he reached
the outside of the herd, when he fell to the ground
and rolled over and over, with his head swimming
and a heart leaping for joy.
He was yet in danger from the stragglers on the
edge of the herd, but the cloud of dust and the
animals it obscured passed by, and faded into a
smoke-like billow, leaving him uninjured.
Ten minutes after, Crocker and his two followers
galloped up and, to their great joy, found the boy
unhurt beyond a few bruises.
Will rode home behind his father's saddle, but
whether or not the adventure had any effect for
good on ,his stubborn nature, the chronicle saith
not. Let us hope it had.


WHENEVER a little child is born,
All night a soft wind rocks the corn;
One more buttercup wakes to the morn,

One more rosebud shy will unfold,
One more grass-blade push thro' the mold,
One more bird-song the air will hold,





" Will the advancing waves obey me, Bishop, if I make the sign ?"
Said the Bishop, bowing lowly: "Land and sea, my lord, are thine."
Canute turned toward the ocean: "Back!" he said, "thou foaming brine.

" From the sacred shore I stand on, I command thee to retreat;
Venture not, thou stormy rebel, to approach thy master's seat;
Ocean, be thou still! I bid thee come not nearer to my feet! "

But the sullen ocean answered with a louder, deeper roar,
And the rapid waves drew nearer, falling sounding on the shore;
Back the Keeper and the Bishop, back the King and courtiers bore.

And he sternly bade them never more to kneel to human clay,
But alone to praise and worship That which earth and seas obey;
And his golden crown of empire never wore he from that day.

King Canute is dead and gone. Parasites exist always.

-* d- .-'izf' --=------ R

L.:.rm rie.~



THERE was once a French ship, anchored, for a
time, at a small port in Italy. While the unloading
and loading of the vessel were going on, the sailors
would often ramble about on shore, to see the sights
of the strange town.
One day, a party of these sailors found them-
selves in the court-yard of an inn, where a travel-
ing showman had lodged a number of wild animals,
with which he intended to open an exhibition in
the town, the next day.
Almost all these animals were in cages, but one
of them, a large black bear, was quietly sleeping on
the ground, being merely fastened by a rope from
his collar to a stake. He was a performing bear,
and one of the principal attractions of the show.
Among the sailors who had wandered into the
court-yard, and now stood looking at the strange
creatures around them, was a man named Caspar,
who was a very vain fellow in many ways, but
particularly vain of his knowledge. He wished all
his comrades to understand that there were very
few things which he could not tell them all about.
He did not hesitate to say, indeed, that there were

matters which he could explain a good deal better
than the captain could, or any of the officers.
When Caspar came into the yard of the inn, he
saw immediately that here was an excellent oppor-
tunity for him to display his knowledge. So he
walked about the yard, explaining to his comrades,
and to the people who had been drawn together
by the chance of seeing a show for nothing, the
habits and peculiarities of the different animals.
The showman, who was a good-natured person,.
was much amused at Caspar's performance.
I should like to have such a fellow to help me
when I am giving a show," he said, to one of the
inn-people; "but he would have to know a little
more concerning the beasts before I should let him
talk. About half he says is wrong."
By this time, Caspar had described nearly all the
animals, arid had reached the big, sleeping bear.
It 's a curious thing," said Caspar, to the
little crowd around him, to see the differences in
animals. The bigger they are, the stupider they
are. The little ones are "the smart and lively
fellows. They know how to take care of them-




selves. A man can't make one of them work for
him, like a great dumb ox. They are too bright
and sharp for that, and if a man wants to keep
one of them he has got to shut him up in a cage.
Take an elephant, for instance. What a great,
lumbering creature an 'elephant is And yet a
man can make one of these overgrown monsters
carry him and his whole family on his back, and
do any kind of work he chooses to
teach him. But take a panther or a [ i _
leopard, who will not weigh as much i
as one of the elephant's legs, and see I
how easy it will be to make him work! I, ,
It can't be done. He 'd fly at the throat
of any man who should try to teach
him to work."
Then you think, Caspar," said one
of his companions, "that it 's only
stupid creatures that work ?" 'I Ir
"Yes, that 's what I think," said i
Caspar. "To be sure, I work, myself;
but I am getting wiser and wiser every
day, and so, after a while, I may be
able to stop working and live as I
ought to live."
'" In a cage ?" asked one of the by-
"Do not interrupt me," said Cas-
par. I was going on to speak of this
bear, the biggest and strongest animal
in the whole show, and yet he is the
only one who has been stupid enough
to allow himself to be taught to play
tricks, and dance, and stand on his
head,-things which are just the same
as work to him. All the other animals -
have to be shut up behind iron bars %
and wires; but he, the largest of them
all, allows himself to be led about by
a rope, and does just what he is told to .
do. The great lump! Look how fat
and stupid he is!" And Caspar, to
show his contempt, gave the bear a
punch in the ribs with a stick he held in
his hand.
Instantly, the bear raised his head,
and, seeing who had disturbed him, gave a roar
and sprang upon Caspar. The frightened people
ran in every direction, while the showman hurried
to Caspar's assistance.
But he was too late. The bear had jumped so
suddenly and violently that he pulled up the stake,
and he now seized Caspar by the waist-band of his
breeches, as he turned to run, and shook him as a
dog would shake a rat. In vain the frightened

sailor struggled and cried. In vain the showman
pulled at his bear; in vain Caspar's comrades
shouted and yelled. The bear shook and growled
and scratched until his rage had cooled down a
little, and then he began to pay attention to the
blows and commands of his master, and let poor
Caspar go.
When the unfortunate lecturer on the habits of

animals arose from the ground, dirty, torn, and
scared almost out of his wits, the showman said to
him: "A bear may be a very stupid beast, but
the man who punches him when he is asleep is a
great deal stupider."
At this all the people laughed, and Caspar
walked off to his ship without a word.
And he never again delivered a lecture upon







SEVEN little pussy-cats, invited out to tea,
Cried: Mother, let us go. Oh, do for good we '11 surely be.
We '11 wear our bibs and hold our things as you have shown us how-
Spoons in right paws, cups in left-and make a pretty bow;
We '11 always say 'Yes, if you please,' and 'Only half of that.' "
"Then go, my darling children," said the -happy Mother Cat.

The seven little pussy-cats went out that night to tea,
Their heads were smooth and glossy, their tails were swinging free;
They held their things as they had learned, and tried to be polite;--
With snowy bibs beneath their chins they were a pretty sight.
But, alas for manners beautiful, and coats as soft as silk !
The moment that the little kits were asked to take some milk
They dropped their spoons, forgot to bow, and-oh, what do you think?
They put their noses in the cups and all began to drink!
Yes, every naughty little kit set up a meouw for more,
Then knocked the tea-cup over, and scampered through the door.



Went dancing with Polly McLever;
", ". And he asked her that night, in the sweetest of tones,
-' To dance, with him only,-forever.

Indeed I will, Eustace de Percival Jones,"
S7Said dear little Polly McLever.
'I \So he whispered her softly: "Delay is for drones-
Let's take the step now, love, or never."

S To-day they are gray, and their weary old bones
Feel keenly each turn of the weather;
/ / But dancing at heart still are Polly and Jones,
As they tread their last measure together.




Grandmotlher fay's Story.


ET us see,-October, November, and
Rachel came down with the fever soon
after corn-husking,-it must have
been about Christmas-time
when the Governor gave his
S-, grand ball, and my aunt
"'.''' .,', Dorothy danced till mid-
S night. I never think of it
now without .: **1- all
that happened at the
S. same time,-a long, long
time ago, my dears, when
Rachel and I were small,
S. and played and took com-
fort the day long.
It had been a long, cold
fall, with snow coming early
and lying along from week
Sto week, and then Rachel
was taken with the fever, and
we kept her in a darkened room,
and I stayed at home to help
Mother. Dreary enough it was, and you may be
sure we were pleased when Rachel grew so well as
to sit of an afternoon by the window in an easy-
chair, and watch the teams glide past the gate
through the snow, and the stage-coach lumber by
the door and over the hill into the town.
And how pleased we were when one day the
stage, instead of rumbling on as was its wont,
stopped at our gate, and my aunt Dorothy came
running up the path into the house! How she
kissed Mother and Rachel and me, and what a
cheerful, pleasant time we had all together. She was
my father's sister,-your great great-aunt, my dears.
When Aunt Dorothy had been there about a
week, an invitation came for her and for Mother to
a grand party, to be given by the Governor's lady.
Mother said at once that she must stay at home,
because of Rachel's being still so weak, but that
my aunt must on no account miss such a treat.
The Governor's son was to be there, and there were
to be music and dancing, and a grand supper.
At first, Aunt Dorothy said it was n't to be
thought of, for she could never get up a suitable
dress, being out in the country with no dress-maker
nor milliner; but Mother persuaded her that they
could manage to make things presentable, with a
little help from the town. So it was settled that
my aunt should go to the ball.

Then the dress-making began. Mother had a
brocade which had never been made up on account
of her going into mourning for Father; this was
very suitable for Aunt Dorothy's complexion, and
they decided to use it for the dress part, with satin
(for the train) from the town.
I used to have a bit of the brocade left,-I wish
I had it here to show you,-a lilac ground, with
clusters of blush roses. Aunt Dorothy had light
hair and dark eyes, and such a soft, bright color,-
you can fancy that a pattern like that would just
suit her.
After they had decided on lilac for the train, and
had sent to town for it, it occurred to my aunt to
wonder where she could find any one to put up her
hair properly. They wore it then in a mass,
shaped something like a tower on the top of the
head, and with great puffs, like wings, coming out
from either side.
Mother thought we could manage to have it
arranged at home, but Aunt Dorothy insisted on
sending to the city and engaging a hair-dresser to
come and put it up on the day on which the party
was to be. She said there was everything in having
the hair quite right, and that if he should fail to
come, she should be obliged to stay at home.
Then there was only a week between the invita-
tion and the party, but it seemed like four. There
was so much cutting out and trying on and altering,
and altogether such a deal of fuss and worry. My
aunt had sent for lilac satin, and then she wished
it had been pink, and after that she was afraid that
neither would come; though it did come in good
season, and a lovely shade at that. While they
were planning and making things ready, it was a
great treat to Rachel and me to see the work-
women busy over the pretty garments, and to fancy
how Aunt Dorothy would look and feel in the gay
At last the dress was ready and laid out on the
spare bed, and .. ..i .ii,;.. was done but to find
some one for an escort for my aunt, when, one
night, while the wind was blowing drifts of snow
up and down the road and around the corners of
the house, who should walk in suddenly but Uncle
We were all surprised to see him,-except
Mother, she took it very quietly,-and glad enough,
you may believe. He was tall and handsome, and
a great favorite with us children; and he always



brought us something nice. Mother said it was
fortunate that he had come just then, because of
Aunt Dorothy's needing some one for an escort to
the party,-and my aunt seemed pleased enough
to have it arranged in that way (as well she might
be, we children thought, Uncle George being so
soldierly and handsome). He was no relation
to my Aunt Dorothy, but was Mother's brother.
Now, Rachel and I knew well that Uncle George
never came all that distance without bringing us
children some pretty gift. So we were on the look-
out; and when supper was over, sure enough he
came up to us and said:
"Girls, I came away in such a hurry that I
did n't have a chance to hunt you up anything very
nice; but I did the best I could. Here's some-
thing that will be rather cunning by and by."
And with that he laid in Rachel's lap a little
wicker-box, and when she had opened it, there lay
two of the cunningest white mice, just old enough
to have their eyes open !
How delighted we were! Mother brought us
two pieces of white cotton, and gently took out the
tiny creatures and placed them on them. We had
never seen anything like them, which made them
doubly dear; the dainty pink ears, white noses, and
funny tails seemed to us the most marvelous of
curiosities. I danced up and down for joy, and
Rachel! it did Mother's heart good to see how
happy Rachel looked as she lay back in her chair
and held the tiny baby-mouse against her cheek.
When bed-time came, she was so excited and so
afraid that something would get her treasure away
from her in the night, that Mother had to promise
her that she might keep it on a stand by her own
pillow, so as to be near for protection in case of
danger. We had never had a cat or a dog about the
house; but the fever had left her weak and like a
little child.
The next morning there was plenty to do to finish
the preparations for the ball in the evening. I ran
on errands for Mother and Aunt Dorothy; and
Uncle George went up to the town and brought
flowers, and there was a great deal going on. Soon
after dinner, Rachel seemed so tired that Mother put
her to bed, to get sleep if she could.
We had tied two bits of ribbon-mine blue,
Rachel's pink-about the necks of our white mice,
and had named them, respectively, Fairy and
"Snowdrop." After Rachel went to bed, it
occurred to me that it would be a good idea if I
could discover any other mark of difference in them,
so that they could be told apart; and while I sat
holding them in my lap, the hair-dresser came.
Of course I was all anxiety to see what was going
on, so I hastily gathered my apron together and
stood by him while he brushed out my aunt's hair

and rolled it over his fingers, and then brought it
down again in long, shining curls and puffs. There
was a chair close by me, where his box of imple-
ments lay,-rolls of cotton and horse-hair,-which
he would just press together a little and slip dex-
terously under the puffs of hair. I watched him
breathlessly, forgetful of all else, till he had finished
all but the last; then Mother called to me to do
some little errand for her, and when I came back
the man was gone, and my aunt was sitting as stiff as
an old portrait, for fear of disarranging something.
"Alice," Rachel's gentle voice called from the
bed-room, "will you please bring Snowdrop in
here and let him lie on the bed ?"
"Oh, yes," I said, drawing a long breath and
peeping into my apron to see that the contents were
all safe.
I could not believe my eyes for a moment. I
shook the folds of the apron, at first gently, then
more energetically, but to no purpose,-the mouse
with the blue bit of ribbon was there safe enough,
but nothing was to be seen of the other, even after
I had emptied my lap and taken off my apron.
When I had fairly reached this conclusion, I laid
my head in a chair and burst into tears; and after
Mother and Aunt Dorothy had asked me what was
the matter, it was a long time before I could con-
trol myself sufficiently to sob out that I had lost
Rachel's mouse, and that I never could be happy
Of course they tried to console me, and said we
should be sure to find it in a few minutes; but after
we had all looked thoroughly in the sitting-room
and the kitchen, and under chairs and on tables,
and in all conceivable and inconceivable places,
and there was yet no trace of the lost pet, there
was nothing left to do but to confess that it was
doubtful whether we ever saw it again.
This gave occasion for a fresh burst of tears from
me. Mother went in and told Rachel all about it,
and Rachel tried to be very brave and not mind,
but between my crying and her trying not to, and
being so weak, she was soon so excited that Mother
was frightened and sent us all out of the room.
I stayed outside the door, and sent in word once
by Mother that I wanted Rachel to have Fairy to
love and keep as she had Snowdrop. And during
the afternoon Uncle George came along, and said
that he would get us another before the week was
out. But Rachel had fallen into an uneasy sleep,
and Mother could n't administer these small drops
of comfort; and things were in this sad condition
when it came evening, and my Aunt Dorothy and
Uncle George started for the ball. I remember
standing at the window and seeing them drive
away in the sleigh, and wondering if there ever
could be another afternoon so sad as that had been,





-and I really think, my dears, that I never had
one sadder, for the strength to bear always came with
the trouble afterward, and then I was only a child
and took things to heart more.
Now I must tell you about my Aunt Dorothy, as
near as I can, in the way she used to tell it.
Rachel and I used to make her go over the story
again and again, till we had it almost by heart.
Well, it seems that my aunt and Uncle George
rode along in the sleigh, up the hill and into the
town, by the road that the stage took every day;
and after a while they came to the Governor's
There were colored lamps before the door, and
servants in blue and scarlet; and, when the guests
were inside, there was a great hall with broad

stairs, and other servants in blue and scarlet to
show them their way.
My Aunt Dorothy said she wished she could
show us how grand everything was, with scarlet
hangings up and down the room, and marble
statues, and paintings that some one had brought
over from France long before.
But as soon as they had been presented to the
Governor and his lady, my Aunt Dorothy said she

began to feel quite at home-the more especially
as the Governor gave her his hand and called her
"my dear," and then spoke to his son, who gave
her his hand and asked her to dance.
So they went through minuets in a stately man-
ner, and it seemed to my Aunt Dorothy quite like
a dream that she should be dancing minuets with
the Governor's son, among the scarlet hangings
and statues and the grand people; for my aunt
was quiet, and liked rather to stay at home with
her own friends.
They had been dancing a long time, my aunt
said, when she began to notice how uncomfortable
her head was. One place seemed to be on the
point of coming down, and kept up enough of a
movement on her head to keep her in continual
fear; and there were hair-pins, or something of the
kind, that stuck into her head every few moments
in such a way as to cause her considerable pain.
However, she had made up her mind to be fashion
able, and thought she ought not to complain.
Then they went out to supper, and there was
every variety of cake and fruit, and dishes "of for-
eign make and with foreign names; and there
were servants behind every chair to wait on the
guests. It was just after they had begun to eat
slowly, that a strange fancy forced itself upon my
aunt's mind-that there was a funny little squeak-
ing kind of a noise proceeding from her own head!
SThe idea first struck her in a lull of the conver-
sation, when everything was unusually quiet. She
was talking with a city lady who sat on her right,
and she imagined that the conversation ran like
this: "Do you find the country pleasant?"
This was a question by the lady.
Yes. I have only been here two weeks."
This from my Aunt Dorothy's mouth, and a
faint accompaniment of Quee,-quee from my
Aunt Dorothy's head.
Dull, though, is n't it,' this cold weather? "
Well, I have been so busy--quee, quee, quee-
e-ee-that I can hardly tell."
Then the talking grew louder around them, to
my aunt's great relief, and the fancy died away for
a time.
Of course it is imagination," my aunt
thought, "but if I did n't know better, I could
swear that I heard a noise every few minutes."
Well, they got through supper after a time, and
then it was eleven o'clock, and nearly time to go
home. (They never staid beyond twelve in those
days, my dears, which was much better than to be
up till morning.)
But before they left the house, there was to
be a short speech by the Governor, and Uncle
George took my aunt and led her to a seat, and
sat down beside her.




Now, whether there was anything objectionable
in the Governor's speech, or anything to be offended
at, I don't know; but certain it is that no sooner
had the, room become quiet and the Governor
opened his mouth, than there proceeded from the
direction of my aunt's chair a succession of faint
but decided squeals. Then my aunt said she knew
that she must be bewitched, and that, if she was
bewitched, she had better be at home. Moreover,

sank into a chair, will you take down my hair, or
shall I become a maniac ? "
Mother went to work in a dazed way, feebly pull-
ing at a hair-pin here or there, when, of a sudden,
some string or something else gave way, and down
tumilo-!' wads of cotton, rolls of horse-hair, and
-one little, trembling, frightened white mouse !
Mother and Aunt Dorothy burst out ]uI .lirn,.
and I stood petrified with surprise, till there

:1 , : ,


she fancied she saw several looking at her askance,
and imagined that they were deliberating whether
to duck her in the horse-pond or hang her without
mercy for a witch; so she grasped Uncle George's
arm and said:
Oh, please, Mr. George, if you have no ob-
jections, I think I must go home." And so they
got out as quietly as they could, and rode home
like the wind.
And that was how it happened that, as Mother
was sitting up to keep things all warm and pleas-
ant for Aunt Dorothy's return, and I sat nodding
in a chair beside her for company, the sleigh
dashed up to the door and my aunt herself hurried
in, waking me and bringing Mother to her feet in
a hurry.
Oh, Jane," said Aunt Dorothy, faintly, as she

appeared suddenly in the bedroom door-way a
white-robed figure, and Rachel's voice exclaimed
in rapture :
My own darling mousey !"
Mercy cried Mother, and caught Rachel and
the long-lost treasure, and put them both into
their respective resting-places.
We never knew how it happened, unless I
dropped the mouse into the chair where the hair-
dresser's utensils were, and so Snowdrop was
tucked away instead of a piece of cotton; but one
thing was sure, that, ever afterward, that mouse
was to us the most marvelous of animals; and
Rachel was even heard to say that she loved him
better (if possible) for the trouble and anxiety he
made her when he went, without leave, to the
Governor's ball.






AN aristocratic old Gnu
Found out he 'd a hole in his shoe.
It made him turn pale,
For there is not for sale,
In the whole world, a shoe for a Gnu !

" It will let the whole river come in,
And besides, I might tread on a pin,"
Said the Gnu, with a groan,
Or a horrid sharp stone,
And injure my delicate skin.

" I can't walk about on this hole,
I 'm afraid I must call on the Sole,
But I hope he '11 perceive
That, without express leave,
He is not free to talk of the hole !"

The Sole re-assured the poor Gnu;
Of course he could mend him his shoe,
It would scarce take a minute
To put a patch in it-
" To put in a WHAT?" said the Gnu.

" A patch," said the Sole. "Oh, no, no!"
Said the Gnu, it would certainly show.
You must think of a plan-
And you certainly can-
That is better than that, sir. No, no!

"I 'm in the first circles-in fact,
The notice a patch would attract
In my shoe, Mr. Sole,
Would be worse than a hole-
My character might be attacked "

The Sole smiled a pitying smile.
" I really don't know of a style
To cover a hole,
Without one," said the Sole.
" Then," the Gnu said, it is n't worth while

" To detain you-but should you find out-
As you will, I have scarcely a doubt-
An invisible way,
Send me word, don't delay,
And meanwhile, I '11 say I have gout."

The Sole sent next morning. No doubt,"
Said his note, if you '11 turn inside out,
I can sew it together
With small strips of leather,
And it never will show-you 're so stout !"

" As if I could turn inside out !"
Said the Gnu. What 's the fellow about ?
I might do it-but then-
Could I get back again ?"
And he still is disabled with gout.





NOTHING is more entertaining than a morning
canter in midsummer, while the dew is sparkling
on the grass, and the robins are singing their joyful
songs, and the east is reddening with the sunrise,
and the world is waking up to enjoy these beautiful
things a little, before the labors of the day begin.
If you live in the town, it is especially good for
you to have a horseback ride now and then, and
you should ride into the country in the early morn-
ing. And just here is one of the many advantages
of being a boy. When ladies and gentlemen ride

horseback, it is considered necessary to have as
many horses as riders; but an indefinite number
of boys may enjoy a ride on one horse, all at the
same time; and often the twenty riders who walk
get a great deal more fun out of it than the one
rider who rides. I think the best number of riders
is three-one to be on the horse, and one to walk
along on each side and keep off the crowd. For
there is something so noble in the sight of a boy
on a horse-especially when he is on for the first
time-that, before he has galloped many miles, he
is pretty certain to become the center of an admir-
ing throng, all eyes being turned upon the boy,
and all legs keeping pace with the horse.
It falls to the lot of few boys to take such a ride

* Copyright, z880, by Rossiter Johnson. All rights reserved.




more than- once in a life-time. Some, poor fellows!
never experience it at all. But whatever could
happen to any boy, in the way of adventure, was
pretty sure to happen to Phaeton Rogers, who was
one of those lucky fellows that are always in the
middle of everything, and generally play the prin-
cipal part. And yet it was not so much luck or
accident as his own genius: for he had hardly
come into the world when he began to try experi-
ments with it, to see if he could n't set some of the
wheels of the universe turning in new directions.
The name his parents gave him was Fayette; but
the boys turned it into Phaeton, for a reason which
will be explained in the course of the story.
It was my good fortune to live next door to the
Rogers family, to know all of Phaeton's adventures,
and have a part in some of them. One of the
earliest was a morning canter in the country.
Phaeton was a little older than I; his brother
Ned was just my age.
One day, their Uncle Jacob came to visit at their
house, riding all the way from Illinois on his own
horse. This horse, when he set out, was a dark
bay, fourteen hands high, with one white foot, and
a star on his forehead. At the first town where he
staid overnight, it became an iron-gray, with a
bob tail and a cast in its eye. At the next halt,
the iron-gray changed into a chestnut, with two
white feet and a bushy tail. A day or two after-
ward, he stopped at a camp-meeting, and when he
left it the horse was a large roan, with just a hint
of a spring-halt in its gait. Then he came to a
place where a county fair was being held, and here
the roan became piebald. How many more changes
that horse went through, I do not know; but, when
it got to us, it was about eleven hands high (con-
venient size for boys), nearly white, with a few
black spots,-so it could be seen for a long dis-
tance,-with nice thick legs, and long hair on them
to keep them warm. All this Ned vouched for.
Now, Mr. Rogers had no barn, and his brother
Jacob, who arrived in the evening, had to tie his
horse in the wood-shed for the night.
Just before bed-time, Ned came over to tell me
that Phaeton was to take the horse to pasture in
the morning, that he was going with him, and they
would like my company also, adding:
Uncle Jacob says a brisk morning canter will
do us good, and give us an appetite for breakfast."
Yes," said I; "of course it will; and, besides
that, we can view the scenery as we ride by."
"We can, unless we ride too fast," said Ned.
"Does your uncle's horse go very fast? said I,
with some little apprehension, for I had never been
on a horse.
I don't exactly know," said Ned. Probably

"Has Phaeton ever been on a horse?" said I.
"No," said Ned; "but he is reading a book
about it, that tells you just what to do."
And how far is the pasture?"
Four miles,-Kidd's pasture,--straight down
Jay street, past the stone brewery. Kidd lives in a
yellow house on the right side of the road; and
when we get there we 're to look out for the dog."
It must be pretty savage, or they would n't
tell us to look out for it. Are you going to take
a pistol?"
No; Fay says if the dog comes out, he '11 ride
right over him. You can't aim a pistol very steadily
when you are riding full gallop on horseback."
"I suppose not," said I. "I never tried it.
But after we 've left the horse in the pasture, how
are we to get back past the dog?"
If Fay once rides over that dog, on that horse,"
said Ned, in a tone of solemn confidence, "there
wont be much bite left in him when we come back."
So we said good-night and went to bed, to dream
of morning canters through lovely scenery, dotted
with stone breweries, and of riding triumphantly
into pasture over the bodies of ferocious dogs.
Amore beautiful morning never dawned, and we
boys Avere up not much later than the sun.
The first thing to do was to untie the horse; and
as he had managed to get his leg over the halter-
rope, this was no easy task. Before we had accom-
plished it, Ned suggested that it would be better
not to untie him till after we had put on the saddle;
Which suggestion Phaeton adopted. The saddle
was pretty heavy, but we found no great difficulty
in landing it on the animal's back. The trouble
was to dispose of a long strap with a loop at the
end, which evidently was intended to go around
the horse's tail, to keep the saddle from sliding
forward upon his neck. None of us liked to try
the experiment of standing behind the animal to
adjust that loop.
He looks to me like a very kicky horse," said
Ned; "and I would n't like to see any of us laid up
before the Fourth of July."
Phaeton thought of a good plan. Accordingly,
with great labor, Ned and I assisted him to get
astride the animal, with his face toward the tail,
and he cautiously worked his way along the back
of the now suspicious beast. But the problem was
not yet solved: if he should go far enough to lift
the tail and pass the strap around it, he would
slide off and be kicked. Ned came to the rescue
with another idea. He got a stout string, and,
standing beside the animal till it happened to
switch its tail around that side, caught it, and tied
the string tightly to the end. Then getting to a
safe distance, he proposed to pull the string and lift
the tail for his brother to pass the crupper under.





But as soon as he began to pull, the horse began to
kick; and not only to kick, but to rear, bumping
Phaeton's head against the roof of the low shed, so
that he was obliged to lie flat and hang on tight.
While this was going on, their uncle Jacob
appeared, and asked what they were doing.
"Putting on the saddle, sir," said I.
Yes, it looks like it," said he. But I did n't
intend to have you take the saddle."
Why not, uncle?" said Phaeton.
Because it is too heavy for you to bring back."
"Oh, but we can leave it there," said Phaeton.
" Hang it up in Kidd's barn."
"No; that wont do," said his uncle. "Can't
tell who might use it or abuse it. I 'll strap on a
blanket, and you can ride just as well on that."
But none of us have been used to riding that
way," said Ned.
Without replying, his uncle folded a blanket, laid
it on the horse's back, and fastened it with a sur-
cingle; He then bridled and led out the animal.
"Who rides first?" said he.
I was a little disappointed at this, for I had sup-
posed that we should all ride at once. Still, I
was comforted that he had not merely said, "Who
rides? "-but "Who rides first? "-implying that
we all were to ride in turn. Phaeton stepped for-
ward, and his uncle lifted him upon the horse, and
put the bridle-reins into his hand.
"I think you wont need any whip," said he, as
he turned and went into the house.
The horse walked slowly down till he came to a
full stop, with his breast against the front gate.
"Open the gate, Ned," said Phaeton.
"I can't do it, unless you back him," answered
Ned. This was true, for the gate opened inward.
Back, Dobbin said Phaeton, in a stem voice
of authority, giving a vigorous jerk upon the reins.
But Dobbin did n't back an inch.
Why don't you back him? said Ned, as if it
were the easiest thing in the world.
Why don't you open that gate ? said Phaeton.
By this time, three or four boys had gathered on
the sidewalk, and were staring at our performance.
Shall I hit him? said Ned, breaking a switch.
No," said Phaeton, more excited than before;
"don't touch him! Back, Dobbin! Back "
But Dobbin seemed to be one of those heroic
characters who take no step backward.
I know how to manage it," said Ned, as he ran
to the wood-pile and selected a small round stick.
Thrusting the end of this under the gate, he pried
it up until he had lifted it from its hinges, when it
fell over outward, coming down with a tremendous
slam-bang upon the sidewalk. A great shiver ran
through Dobbin, beginning at the tips of his ears,
and ending at his shaggy fetlocks. Then, with a

quick snort, he made a wild bound over the pros-
trate gate, and landed in the middle of the road.
I don't know how Phaeton managed to keep his
seat, but he did; and though the boys on the side-
walk set up a shout, Dobbin stood perfectly still in
the road, waiting for the next earthquake, or falling
gate, or something, to give him another start.
Come on, boys! Never mind the gate said
When he said "boys," he only meant Ned and
me. But the boys on the sidewalk promptly
accepted the invitation, and came on, too.
"You walk on the nigh side," said Phaeton to
me, and let Ned take the off side."
I was rather puzzled as to his exact meaning;
and yet I was proud to think that the boy who
represented what might now be considered our
party on horseback, as distinguished from the
strangers on foot crowding alongside, was able to
use a few technical terms. Not wishing to display
my ignorance, I loitered a little, to leave the choice
of sides to Ned, confident that he would know which
was nigh and which was off. He promptly placed
himself on the left side, near enough to seize his
brother by the left leg, if need be, and either hold
him on or pull him off. I, of course, took a similar
position on the right side.
He told you to take the nigh side," shouted one
of the boys to me.
He's all right," said Phaeton; and I 'd advise
you to hurry home before your breakfast gets cold.
We '11 run this horse without any more help."
"Run him, will you ? answered the boy, deris-
ively. That's what I'm waiting to see. He '11
run so fast the grass '11 grow under his feet."
If there was a hot breakfast an inch ahead of
your nose," said another of the boys, addressing
Phaeton, it 'd be stone cold before you got to it."
Notwithstanding these sarcastic remarks, our
horse was now perceptibly moving. He had begun
to walk along in the middle of the road, and-what
at the time seemed to me very fortunate-he was
going in the direction of the pasture.
Can't you make him go faster, Fay ? said Ned.
"Not in this condition," said Phaeton. "You
can't expect a horse without a saddle on him to
make very good time."
"What difference does that make ? said I.
"You read the book, and you '11 see," said Phae-
ton, in that tone of superior information which is
common to people who have but just learned what
they are talking about, and not learned it very
well. All the directions in the book are for horses
with saddles on them. There is n't one place where
it tells about a horse with just a blanket strapped
over his back. If Uncle Jacob had let me take the
saddle, and if I had a good pair of wheel-spurs, and




a riding-whip, and a gag-bit in his mouth, you
wouldn't see me here. By this time I should be
just a little cloud of dust, away up there beyond the
brewery. This animal shows marks of speed, and
I '11 bet you, if he was properly handled, he 'd
trot way down in the thirties."
So much good horse-talk, right out of a standard
book, rather awed me. But I ventured to suggest
that I could cut him a switch from the hedge,
which Dobbin could certainly be made to feel,
though it might not be so elegant as a riding-whip.
"Never mind it," said he. It's no use; you
can't expect much of any horse without saddle or
spurs. And besides, what would become of you
and Ned? You could n't keep up."
I suggested that he might go on a mile or two
and then return to meet us, and so have all the
more ride. But he answered: I 'm afraid Uncle
Jacob would n't like that. He expects us to go
right to the pasture, without delay. You just wait
till I get a good saddle, with Mexican stirrups, and
wheel-spurs. "
By this time, the boys who had been following us
had dropped off. But at the next corner three or
four others espied us, and gathered around.
Why don't you make him go ?" said one who
had a switch in his hand, with which at the same
time he gave Dobbin a smart blow on the flank.
A sort of shiver of surprise ran through Dobbin.
Then he planted his fore feet firmly and evenly on
the ground, as if he had been told to toe a mark,
and threw out his hind ones, so that for an instant
they formed a continuous straight line with his
body. The boy who had struck him, standing
almost behind him, narrowly escaped being sent
home to breakfast with no appetite at all.
Lick those fellows said Phaeton to Ned and
me, as he leaned over Dobbin's neck and seized his
mane with a desperate grip.
There are too many of them," said Ned.
"Well, lick the curly-headed one, any way,"
said Phaeton, if he does n't know better than to
hit a horse with a switch."
Ned started for him, and the boy, diving through
an open gate and dodging around a small barn,
was last seen going over two or three back fences,
with Ned all the while just one fence behind him.
When they were out of sight, the remaining boys
turned their attention again to Dobbin, and one of
them threw a pebble, which hit him on the nose
and made him perform very much as before, except-
ing that this time he planted his hind feet and threw
his fore feet into the air.
Go for that fellow said Phaeton to me.
He struck off in a direction opposite to that taken
by the curly-headed boy, and I followed him. It
was a pretty rough chase that he led me; but he

seemed to know every step of the way, and when
he ran into the culvert by which the Deep Hollow
stream passed under the canal, I gave it up, and
made my way back. Calculating that Phaeton
must have passed on some distance by this time, I
took a diagonal path across a field, and struck into
the road near the stone brewery. Phaeton had not
yet come up, and I sat down in the shade of the
building. Presently, Dobbin came up the road at
a jog trot, with Phaeton wobbling around on his
back, like a ball in a fountain. The cause of his
speed was the clatter of an empty barrel-rack being
driven along behind him.
On arriving at the brewery, he turned and, in
spite of Phaeton's frantic Whoas and rein-
jerking, went right through a low-arched door,
scraping off his rider as he passed in.
"So much for not having a gag-bit," said
Phaeton, as he picked himself up. I remember,
Uncle Jacob said the horse had worked fifteen or
sixteen years in a brewery. That was a long time
ago, but it seems he has n't forgotten it yet. And
now I don't suppose we can ever get him out of
there without a gag-bit."
He had hardly said this, however, when one of
the brewery men came leading out Dobbin. Then
the inquiry was for Ned, who had not been seen
since he went over the third fence after the curly-
headed boy who did n't know any better than to hit
a horse with a switch. Phaeton decided that we
must wait for him. In 'about fifteen minutes, one
of the great brewery wagons came up the road, and
as it turned in at the gate, Ned dropped from the
hind axle, where he had been catching a ride.
After we had exchanged the stories of our ad-
ventures, Ned said it was now his turn to ride.
I wish you could, Ned," said Phaeton; "but
I don't dare trust you on his back. He 's too fiery
and untamable. It's all I can do-to hold him."
Ned grumbled somewhat; but with the help of
the brewery man, Phaeton remounted, and we set
off again for Kidd's pasture. Ned and I walked
close beside the horse, each with the fingers of one
hand between his body and the surcingle, that we
might either hold him or be taken along with him
if he should again prove fiery and untamable.
When we got to the canal bridge, we found that
a single plank was missing from the road-way.
Nothing could induce Dobbin to step across that
open space. All sorts of coaxing and argument
were used, and even a few gentle digs from Phae-
ton's heels, but it was of no avail. At last he began
to back, and Ned and I let go of the surcingle.
Around he wheeled, and down the steep bank he
went, like the picture of Putnam at Horseneck,
landed on the tow-path, and immediately plunged
into the water. A crowd of boys who were swim-




ming under the bridge set up a shout, as he swam
across with Phaeton on his back.
Ned and I crossed by the bridge.
I only hope Uncle Jacob wont blame me.if the
horse takes cold," said Phaeton, .as he came up.
Can't we prevent it ?" said Ned.
"What can you do ?" said Phaeton.
I think we ought to rub him off perfectly dry,
at once," said Ned. "That 's the way Mr. Gif-
ford's groom does."
"I guess that's so," said Phaeton. "You two
go to that hay-stack over there, and get some good
wisps to rub him down."
Ned and I each brought a large armful of hay.
"Now, see here, Fay," said Ned, "you 've got
to get off from that horse and help rub him.
We 're not going to do it all."
But how can I get on again?" said Phaeton.
"I don't care how," said Ned. "You 've had
all the ride, and you must expect to do some of the
work. If you don't, I '11 let him die of quick con-
sumption before I '11 rub him."
This vigorous declaration of independence had a
good effect. Phaeton slid down, and tied Dobbin
to the fence, and we all set to work and used up
the entire supply of hay in rubbing him dry.
After several unsuccessful attempts to mount him
by bringing him close to the fence, Phaeton deter-
mined to lead him the rest of the way.
Anyhow, I suppose he ought not to have too
violent exercise after such a soaking as that," said
he. "We '11 let him rest a little."
As we were now beyond the limits of the town,
the only spectators were individual boys and girls,
who were generally swinging on farm-yard gates.
Most of these, however, took interest enough to
inquire why we did n't ride. We paid no attention
to their suggestions, but walked quietly along,-
Phaeton at the halter, and Ned and I at the sides,
-as if guarding the sacred bull of Burmah.
About a mile of this brought us to Mr. Kidd's.
What about riding over the dog ?" said Ned.
"We can't very well ride over him to-day, when
we 've neither saddle nor spurs," said Phaeton;
"but you two might get some good stones, and be
ready for him."
Accordingly, we two selected some good stones.
Ned crowded one into each of his four pockets, and
carried one in each hand. I contented myself with
two in my hands.
"There 's no need of getting so many," said
Phaeton. "For if you don't hit him the first
time, he '1 be on you before you can throw
This was not very comforting; but we kept on,
and Ned said it would ri't do any harm to have
plenty of ammunition.- When we reached the

house, there was no dog in sight, excepting a small
shaggy one asleep on the front steps.
"You hold Dobbin," said Phaeton to me,
"while I go in and make arrangements."
I think I held Dobbin about half a minute, at
the end of which time he espied an open gate at
the head of a long lane leading to the pasture,
jerked the halter from my hand, and trotted off at
surprising speed. When Phaeton came out of the
house, of course I told him what had happened.
"But it's just as well," said I, "for he has
gone right down to the pasture."
No, it is n't just as well," said he; we must
get off the halter and blanket."
But what about the dog ?" said Ned.
Oh, that one on the steps wont hurt anybody.
The savage one is down in the wood-lot."
At this moment a woman appeared at the side
door of the farm-house, looked out at us, and
understood the whole situation in a moment.
I suppose you had n't watered your horse,"
said she, and he 's gone for the creek."
Phaeton led the way to the pasture, and we
followed. I should n't like to tell you how very
long we chased Dobbin around that lot, trying to
corner him. We tried swift running, and we tried
slow approaches. I suggested salt.. Ned pre-
tended to fill his hat with oats, and walked up
with coaxing words. But Dobbin knew the differ-
ence between a straw hat and a peck measure.
I wish I could remember what the book says
about catching your horse," said Phaeton.
I wish you could," said I. "Why did n't you
bring the book ?"
I will next time," said he, as he started off in
another desperate attempt to corner the horse
between the creek and the fence.
Nobody can tell how long this might have kept
up, had not an immense black dog appeared,
jumping over the fence from the wood-lot.
Phaeton drew back and looked about for a stone.
Ned began tugging at one of those in his pockets,
but could n't get it out. Instead of coming at us,
the dog made straight for Dobbin, soon reached
him, seized the halter in his teeth, and brought
him to a full stop, where he held him till we came
up. It only took a minute or two to remove the
blanket and halter, and turn Dobbin loose, while
a few pats on the head and words of praise made
a fast friend of the dog.
With these trappings over our arms, we turned
our steps homeward. As we drew near the place
where we had given Dobbin the rubbing down to
keep him froni taking cold, we saw a man looking
over the fence at the wet wisps of hay in the road.
I wonder if that man will expect us to pay for
the hay," said Phaeton.




It would be just like him," said Ned. "These
farmers are an awful stingy set."
"I have n't got any money with me," said
Phaeton; but I know a short cut home."
Ned and I agreed that any shortening of the
homeward journey would be desirable just now,-
especially as we were very hungry.
He led the way, which required him to go back
to the first cross-road, and we followed. It seemed
to me that the short cut home was about twice as
long as the road by which we had come, but as I
also was oppressed with a sense of having no
money with me, I sympathized with Phaeton, and
made no objection. When I found that the short
cut led through the Deep Hollow culvert, I confess
to some vague fears that the boy I had chased into
the culvert might dam up the water while we were
in there, or play some other unpleasant trick on us,
and I was glad when we were well through it with
only wet feet and shoulders spattered by the drip-
pings from the arch.
We got home at last, and Phaeton told his uncle
that Dobbin was safe in the pasture, at the same
time giving him to understand that we were-as
we always say at the end of a composition-much
pleased with our morning canter. But the boys
could n't help talking about it, and gradually the
family learned every incident of the story. When
Mr. Rogers heard about the hay, he sent Phaeton
with some money to pay for it, but the stingy
farmer said it was no matter, and would n't take
any pay. But he asked Phaeton where we were
going, and told him he had a pasture that was
just as good as Kidd's, and nearer the town.



IF Phaeton Rogers was not an immediate success
as a rider of horses, he certainly did what seemed
some wonderful things in the way of inventing con-
veyances for himself and other people to ride.
One day, not long after our adventures with Dob-
bin, Ned and I found him sitting under the great
plane-tree in the front yard, working with a knife at
some small pieces of wood, which he put together,
making a frame like this:

.... ----4

It would have to be new or it would n't be an
invention at all."
"But what is it for?"
For the benefit of mankind, like all great in-
It seems to me that some of the best have been
for the benefit of boykind," said Ned. But what
is the use of trying to be too smart? Let us know
what it is. We're not likely to steal it, as Lem
Woodruff thinks the patent-lawyer stole his idea for
a double-acting wash-board."
Phaeton was silent, and worked away. Ned and
I walked out at the gate and turned into the street,
intending to go swimming. We had not gone fat
when Phaeton called "Ned! and we turned back.
Ned," said he, don't you want to lend me the
ten dollars that Aunt Mercy gave you last week ?"
Their Aunt Mercy was an unmarried lady with
considerable property, who was particularly good to
Ned. When Phaeton was a baby she wanted to
name him after the man who was to have been
her husband, but who was drowned at sea.
Mrs. Rogers would not consent, but insisted upon
naming the boy Fayette, and Aunt Mercy had never
liked him, and would never give him anything,
or believe that he could do anything good or credit-
able. She was a little deaf, and if it was told her
that Phaeton had taken a prize at school, she pre-
tended not to hear; but whenever Ned got one she
had no trouble at all in hearing about it, and
she always gave him at least a dollar or two on such
occasions. For when Ned was born, she was
allowed to do what she had wanted to do with
Fayette, and named him Edmund Burton, after her
long-lost lover. Later, she impressed it upon him
that he was never to write his name E. B. Rogers,
nor Edmund B. Rogers, but always Edmund Bur-
ton Rogers, if he wanted to please her, and be
remembered in her will. She never called him any-
thing but Edmund Burton. Whereas, she pretended
not to remember Fayette's name at all, and would
twist it in all sorts of ways, calling him Layit and
Brayit, and Fater and Faylen, and once she called
him Frenchman-what's-his-name, which was as
near as she ever came to getting it right.
Why should I lend you my ten dollars ?" said
Ned. "For the information you kindly gave us
about your invention? "
"Oh, as to that," said Phaeton, I've no objec-
tion to telling you all about it now that I have
thought it all out. I did not care to tell you before,
because I was studying on it."
"All right; go ahead," said Ned, as we seated
ourselves on the grass, and Phaeton began.
It is called the under-ground railway. You
see, there are some places-like the city of New
York, for instance-where the buildings are so close

"What are you making, Fay? said Ned.
"An invention," said Phaeton, without looking
up from his work.
"What sort of invention ? A new invention ?"


n!smnaislliimullllllllln1:1111~~ L






together, and land is worth so much, that they
can't build railroads enough to carry all the people
back and forth. And so they have been trying,
in all sorts of ways, to get up something that
will do it-something different from a common
Balloons would be the thing," said Ned.
No; balloons wont do," said Phaeton. You
can't make them 'light where you want them to.
I 've thought of a good many ways, but there was
some fault in all of them but this last one."
Tell us about the others first," said Ned.
"I '11 show you one of them," said Phaeton, and
he drew from his pocket a small sheet of paper,
which he unfolded, and exhibited to us this picture:

most serious objection of all. "But tell us about
the real invention."
"The real invention," said Phaeton, "is this,"
and he took up the little frame we had seen him
making. Taking an India-rubber string from his
pocket, he stretched it from one of the little posts
to the other and fastened it.
Now," said he, suppose there was a fly that
lived up at this end, and had his office down at that
end. He gets his breakfast, and takes his seat
right here," and he laid his finger on the string,
near one of the posts. "I call out, 'All aboard !'
and then "
Here Phaeton, who had his knife in his hand,
cut the string in two behind the imaginary fly.


11 9 1 :
.. 'r gh11- 0 pl l' ( 1 Y 0B O

"This," said he, "represents the city of New
York. A is some place far up-town where people
live; B is the Battery, which is down-town, where
they do the business. I suppose you both know
what a mortar is ? "
"A cannon as big around as it is long," said
"And shoots bomb-shells," said I.
"That's it," said Phaeton. "Now here, you
see, is a big mortar up-town; only, instead of
shooting a bomb-shell, it shoots a car. This car
has no wheels, and has a big knob of India-rubber
on the end for a buffer. When you get it full of
people, you lock it up tight and touch off the
mortar. This dotted mark represents what is called
the line of flight. You see, it comes down into
another sort of mortar, which has a big coiled
spring inside, to stop it easy and prevent it from
smashing. Then the depot-master puts up a big
step-ladder and lets the people out."
Ned said he should like to be the one to touch
off the mortar.
"And why was n't that a good plan ?" said I.
"There are some serious objections to it," said
Phaeton, in a knowing way. "For instance, you
can't aim such a thing very true when the wind is
blowing hard, and people might not like to ride in
it on a windy day. Besides, some people have a
very strong prejudice, you know, against any sort
of fire-arms."
There would n't be much chance for a boy to
catch a ride on it," said Ned, as if that were the

"Where is the fly now?" said he. "At his
office doing business -"
I don't understand," said Ned.
I 've only half explained it," said Phaeton.
"Now, you see, it's easy enough to make a tunnel
under-ground and run cars through. But a tunnel
always gets full of smoke when a train goes
through, which is very disagreeable, and if you ran
a train every fifteen minutes, all the passengers
would choke. So, you see, there must be some-
thing instead of an engine and a train of cars. I
propose to dig a good tunnel wherever the road
wants to go, and make it as long as you please.
Right through the center I pass an India-rubber
cable as large as a man's leg, and stretch it tight,
and fasten it to great posts at each end. All the
men and boys who want to go sit on at one end as
if on horseback. When everything is ready, the
train-despatcher takes a sharp axe, and with one
blow clips the cable in two behind them, and zip
they go to the other end before you can say Jack
Ned said he 'd like to be train-despatcher.
"They 'd all have to hang on like time,"
said I.
Of course they would," said Phaeton; "but
there are little straps for them to take hold by."
"And would-there be a tub at the other end,"
said Ned, "to catch the passengers that were
broken to pieces against the end wall?"
Oh, pshaw !" said Phaeton. Don't you sup-
pose I have provided for that ?"

(To be continued.)


- I



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* I-i. ,. K ..- , ,, ,... e ,,,

WHEN I was a little girl, my grandmother used
to delight us children, on winter evenings, by tell-
ing us the story of a queer old man. whom her
father, who was a lawyer, used to meet, during
court terms, in the different towns in southern
Massachusetts. This old man was almost blind,
and led by a string a remarkably intelligent little
coal-black dog.
This man was a curious character. He was well
educated, and delighted to talk with the lawyers
and judges about distinguished people he had met
in London, and of various historical personages.
He was fond of big words, and called himself and
his dog "The Pedestrians," and always stoutly
maintained that he amply paid his way by exhibit-
ing his intelligent four-footed friend and compan-
ion," as he designated the pretty animal.
This dog would perform a variety of tricks and

-A [ th.: :r r,,, c !'. I,ttl._: ,:1,:." ,...:.,ild b -irk -,id ig-

his audience, saying: "That's a girl's name, you
know; you see he does n't like it," and continue:
"He was Cato, Crapo, Christmas,
Sancho, and High Robert.
That was all he was, excepting Peter Waggle,
Darkis, Garret, and Father Howell, and that was all he
At this, the dog would put down his fore feet,
whining and wagging his tail delightedly, and
catching his master's hat, would carry it around to
the spectators, soliciting pennies. The old "Pedes-
trian picked up money enough in this way, people
said, to keep himself and his four-footed friend in
good living; but as.he was seldom obliged to
purchase a meal, and strictly temperate, folks often
wondered what he did with his pennies.
What became of the poor old man and his little
dog at last?" we often asked. But grandmother
did not know.

S*A true story.



:- ":-

1i zt I,r ,: -'l:. M : h i'-" U 'l'l i,:r 1_'V, , .'


Last summer I visited a lonely old lady in eastern
Connecticut, who delighted in interesting reminis-
cences of "old times." One day she came smiling
into my room with an old, well-worn book in man-
uscript in her hand, and said to me:

in it are many curious descriptions of different
people who were guests of the house. Here is one
which always struck me as being very pathetic," and
she read me the following, which I have since copied
from the book. It is dated January 6th, 18-.



"When my grandfather and grandmother were
first married, they kept a 'stage tavern' not far
from here, near the Massachusetts line. This book
is a journal my grandmother kept at the time, and

"A terrible snow-storm yesterday. The Hart-
ford stage was belated for hours, and the coach
brought in among its passengers a poor, nearly
blind beggar, with a funny little black dog.fastened


,I z


i- -- C


to his arm by a string, both of whom the compas-
sionate driver picked up in a freezing condition,
from a huge snow-drift a few miles back.
"They both were nearly dead. We undressed
the man, rubbed them both, with snow at first, and
put them to bed-both together-for they had just
vitality and sense enough left to protest against
being separated. The warm drinks and nourish-
ing broths we administered revived the strange
pair in a measure, however, and the man began to
talk and to sing in a weak, trembling voice, which
showed that he was partially delirious.
He had intended to go to Providence, he said,
but had got upon the wrong road in the blinding
snow, and wandered off, he knew not whither. 'But
I have found friends,' he said, clasping his hands;
SI have always' found friends. God always takes
care of his own.'
"He said that he was born in Scotland, and
educated at Cambridge, England, and came to
America to teach; but his eyes gave out, and
he had lived since that time by exhibiting his little
'four-footed friend.' A wonderful scholar the poor
man was, indeed, with a wonderful lot of names and
phrases and quotations on his tongue's end, that
would do honor to any gentleman. This morning
he began to sing, in a plaintive monotone:
"' He was Kimber, Hubner, Bibloo,
Saxo, Perouse, Sappho,'-

when the little dog gave a feeble bark, and his
master gave a languid smile.
"'He always protests against answering to a
female's name,' said the poor man. 'He under-
stands all about it,-a great scholar my four-footed

little friend is. I have taught him when we have
been :,!I:.- together. We are "The Pedes-
trians,"' and he sang feebly once more-

"'He was Cato, Crapen, Christie,
Sancho, and High Robert.
That was all he was except
Peter Wading, Davies, Garrick,
And Foster Powell,
And that was all he was-y.'

"As he finished, the little dog made a vain
effort to raise himself on his legs, turned his intelli-
gent eyes upon his master's pale face, gave a feeble
wag of the tail, and died.
My husband threw a shawl over the poor ani-
mal, and lifted him carefully from the bed without
attracting the attention of his master, who talked
away about his own life and that of his little four-
footed friend.
"All day long, while the unfortunate old man's
fluttering breath remained in his body, he told us
his story, over and over. Toward the last, he
looked up at me and said: How joyous I feel!
Only death could bring such joy to the old Pe-
destrian." Remember, madam, there are pennies
enough under-the white rock, near the-the-
great oak, to pay for our burial. Come-Kimber
-Humber! we must be--be-moving,' and throw-
ing up his arms, his soul passed from his poor, tired
body, and was indeed moving on. We buried him
and his little dog in the same grave, on a pleasant,
sunny, eastern hill-side, not far from the tavern."
Here the record closed; but I felt sure my child-
ish question was answered, and that I knew at
last what finally became of the old blind man and
his little dog that bore so many funny names.

(An oferitta for young folks, portraying tl visit of six little sleefy-heads t tlhe King of ite Land of Nod, and the
wonders they saw at his Court.)


CHARACTERS. the more effective will be the presentation. If no curtain is used,
The King of the Land of Nod. The Dream Sprites. the scene should be set to represent a throne-room, with a tastefully
The Sand Man, Cabinet Ministers The Dream Goblin. draped throne at the center-rear of stage. The only other prop-
Jack o' Dreams, The Six Little Sleepy-heads. erties really necessary are a wheelbarrow; a hand-wagon; six
The Royal Pages. His Majesty's Standard-bearer. couches, either small mattresses or inclined frames (of this style),
The Dream Prince. The Goblin Can-andMust. over which bright-colored
The Dream Prince. The Goblin Can-and-Must. /- afglans may be thrown.
The Dreams. My Lady Fortune. The Queen of the Dollies. Soap-boxes, cut to this
OldMotherGoose. The Dream Princess. Soap-boxes, cut to this
Old other Goose. The Dream Princess. shape and with sacking
'COSTUMES AND MOUNTING. tacked across, would do
COSTUMES AND MOUNTING. or these couches. Strings of artificial flowers for Dream Sprites-
The stage mounting and the costumes must depend entirely upon say, thirty to forty inches long, and a banner of crimson and gold
the taste and facilities of the managers. The more care bestowed (or equally striking combination), bearing conspicuously a big poppy,
upon the preparation of the costumes and the dressing of the stage, and the words, "'To bed To bed!' says Sleepy-head."



The costumes, as far as possible, should be based on the following:
The King. Velvet (or imitation) tunic of cardinal color, trimmed
with black and gold; trunks or knee-breeches; long cardinal stock-
ings; shoes and gold buckles. Long velvet (imitation) robe and
train-cloak, of royal purple, trimmed with ermine; gold crown,
encircled with poppy wreath; long white beard; scepter and crown-
The Sand Man. Common working-suit of a house-painter (over-
alls, shirt-sleeves, etc.), painter's white or striped apron, and a sand-
sprinkler or flour-dredger.
Jack o' Dreams. Regular costume of a court-jester, parti-colored,
with cap and bells, jester's rattle and bells.
The Dream Sprites. (Not less than six, and more, if possible-all
little girls.) Pretty white dresses, gauze wings, chains of artificial
flowers as above.
Dream Goblin. Red goblin suit, tight-fitting suit with wings, red
skull-cap with short horns.
The Six Little Sleepy-heads. Three little boys and three little
girls (the younger the better), with long white night-gowns over
their clothes, the girls with night-caps.
The Dream Prince. Fancy court suit.
My Lady Fortune. Classic Grecian female costume; gold fillet
In hair. Wheel, about twelve inches in diameter, from an old veloci-
pede, made to revolve, spokes and spaces between them covered
with card-board and papered in different colors.
Old Mother Goose. Short red petticoat, red stockings, slippers
and silver buckles, brown or fancy over-skirt and waist, high bell-
crown hat, red or purple cape, large spectacles, and broom.
The Goblin Can-and-Must. Dull brown tight-fitting suit, brown
skull-cap and short horns, heavy chains on hands.
Queen ofthe Dollies. Any pretty fancy costume, gold crown,
wand; she should have two or three prettily dressed dolls.
The Dream Princess. Fancy court dress.
The Royal Pages. Two or four small boys in fancy court suits.
The Standard-bearer. Fancifully designed semi-military suit.
The costumes may, most of them, be made of silesia, which has
the effect of silk. The following ages are suggested for children
taking part in the representation: KING-Stout, well-voiced boy of
about sixteen; JACK o' DREAMS, SAND MAN-Boys of twelve or
fourteen; GOButN CAN-AND-MUST-Boy of thirteen; THE DREAM
PRINCE-Boy of eleven or twelve; DREAM GOBLIN-Boy of twelve
or thirteen; PAGES-Boys of six; STANDARD-BEARER-Boy of eight
or ten; DREAM SPRITES-Girls of ten or twelve; DREAM PRINCESS,
MY LADY FORTUNE, MOTHER GOOSE-Girls of ten or twelve;
Children of four to six.
(Appropriate music should be played between parts, or whenever
a pause occurs in which music would add to the effect. Any part,
for which a good singer cannot be had, may be spoken instead of
sung. Should all the parts be spoken, instrumental music only
would be required, and this could be performed behind the scenes.)

(Enter in procession the King, preceded by Standard-bearer, and
followed by the Pages. Music-" Fatinitza March," or any other
preferred. King stands on the platform on which the throne is
raised, and faces the audience. The Standard-bearer steps
back to one side, and the Pages stand on either side at the foot
of the throne.]



I'm the jol- l old King of the Realm of Dreams, The
2. My crown is a garland of pop-pies bright, That
3. Come hith er, my bench men old and true, Proud
r- -



sweet, sleep y Land of Nod
in the Land of Nod
IE.-I'r. of the Land of Nod;*

I ...
And I
For wher-


S --


~- >-.- -rz -~
fol low the sun king's van= ish ing beams, And
drive 'round the world the black Horses of Night, Or
ev- er I go, and what-ev-er I do, My

a a -.

fly when his morn-iig glo ry streams, For
sometimes a night-mare the dreamers to fright, As I
roy al old head must be guid-ed by you; Now,.

- -

Music by W. F. SHERWIN. -
A nl Militaire (all salute the King

-- I am the drows. .1.--Ves, I am the drow-sy
----- - ride to the Land ..I, i he dear, dreamy Land of
is n't that aw-fully odd ? Yes, cu-ri-ous, funny and

. t .t. : . .- > . - -I R

* LEnter-right and left-the Sand Man and 7ack o' Dreams, who make, each, a low obeisance to His Majesty.]







god! But I'm King of the Night in my
Nod; And I wel-come the children, all...
odd ? For what-ev er I do, I de-

,J- -y ;

A- ---- -- ,..
-- -

Castle of Dreams; The King of the Land of Nod !
sleepy and white As they come to the Land of Nod.
pend upon you, ho' I'm King ofthe Land of Nod.

#- ~ E5-

(Use last four measures of Introduction as an Interlude.)

SAND MAN [bowing to the -.-1- ].
I-I am the Sand Man bold!
And I 'm busy as busy can be,
For I work when it 's hot,
And I work when it's cold,
As I scatter my sand so free.
Close to the eyes of the children dear
I creep-and I creep; I peer-and I peer;
I peer as with barrow I plod.
Then I scatter, I scatter the sand so free,
Till the children are s-l-e-e-p-y as s-l-e-e-p-y can be.
And off we trot-the children with me-
To the King of the Land of Nod.

I-I am the Sand Man bold!
I come when the night-shades fall;
Then up to the children my barrow I roll,
And the sand fills the eyes of 'em all.
[Repeat last seven lines offirst stanza.
Scatter and plod, Sand Man odd,
You 're a trusty old knight of our Land of Nod.
JACK o' DREAMS [bowing low to the iing].
I 'm the sprightly young, lightly young, Jack o' Dreams,
And I caper the live-long night,
While my jingling bells, with their tingling swells,
Are the dear, sleepy children's delight.
For I jingle them here, into each pearly ear,
And I jingle them there again;
And the dreams come and go, and the dreams fall and
As I jingle my bells again.
And I dart, and I whirl, o'er their brains toss and twirl,
As I scatter the fancies odd;
I 'm the child of the night, I 'm the jolly young sprite
Of the King of the Land of Nod.

Well spoken, my henchmen, bold and true,
Proud knights of the Land of Nod;
But tell to me, Sand Man, what do you
Bring now to the Land of Nod?
Just sample the stock of your latest flock,
For the King of the Land of Nod.
O, sire I bring to the Realm of Dreams
The sleepiest set of boys
That ever the sun-king's vanishing beams
Cut off from their daylight joys.
The sleepiest, drowsiest, laziest set
In all my travels I 've met with yet;
And I 've picked out three as a sample, you see,-
A sample most funny and odd,-
To show you the stock that comprises the flock
Of the King of the Land of Nod.
Ho! Fix the couches, Jack o' Dreams,
And you, 0 Sand Man odd,
Roll in the boys-without their noise-
For the King of the Land of Nod.

[Low music.* Jack o' Dreams arranges and smoothes down the
couches, and the Sand Man returns, bringing in his wheelbarrow
three little boys in their night-gowns, fast asleep. He and Jack
o' Dreams lift them out gently and place them on their couches.]
KING [who has risen to receive his guests-joyfully].

Now nid, nid, nod, my bonny boys.
O Sand Man, it is plain
The stock you bring before your king
Your fealty proves again.
Sleep right, sleep tight, with fancies bright,
On Dream-land's pleasant sod;
The night 's begun, we '11 have some fun,
Says the King of the Land of Nod.
And what, O Jack o' Dreams, do you
Bring here to the Land of Nod?
Come! let us know what you have to show
To the King of the Land of Nod.
Great King! I bring the sweetest things
That ever you looked upon;
With bangs and curls, and frills and furls-
The rosiest, posiest little girls
That ever romped or run;
The tightest, brightest, sauciest lot
That ever in dreams I plagued,
I could n't pick better for you-no, not
If you begged, and begged, and begged.
And of these, there are three that I wish you to see-
Three sleepers so charming and odd;
If Your Majesty please, shall I bring in these
For the King of the Land of Nod?
Ay! bring them in, young Jack o' Dreams,
And you, old Sand Man odd,

*Gottschalk's "Cradle Song" (simplified ed.); Heller's "Slumber Song "; "Swing Song," by Fontaine; "Good Night," by Loesch-
horn; Lange's Blumlied "; "Nursery Tale," by Fradel, or other selection. Or, a lady may sing Birds in the Night," by Sullivan.




Fix the couches all for the ladies who call
On the King of the Land of Nod.
[Low music,t while Jack o' Dreams draws in a little wagon in
which are three very little girls, in their night-gowns, fast asleep.
He and the Sand Man lift them carefully out and lay them on
the couches.]
KING [in rapture, bending over each little girl in suc-
Oh, my pink! Oh, my pet!
You 're the prettiest yet !
Brave Jack o' Dreams so true,
'T is very plain that never again
A fairer lot we '11 view.
Sleep soft, sleep well, 0 girlies fair,
On Dream-land's pleasant sod,
While the Dream Sprites start in each young heart
For the King of the Land of Nod.

[Stands by the throne and waves his scepter.]
Cling, cling, by my scepter's swing,
By the wag of my beard so odd;
Dream Sprites small, I summon you all
To the King of the Land of Nod!

[Enter the DREAM SPRITES, each with a chain offlowers.
They glide in and out among the little sleepers, and
repeat, in concert.']

We weave, we weave our fairy chain
'Round each young heart, in each.young brain,
Our dream-spell chain so sweet.
Bright Dream Sprites we, so gay and free;
We come with tripping feet, with merrily
tripping feet,
To dance on Dream-land's sod.
While we weave, we weave our fairy chain
'Round each young heart, in each young brain,
That beats and throbs in the sleepy train
Of the King of the Land of Nod.

[Here the DREAM GOBLIN enters on tiptoe, with finger
raised, and says.-]

But if some children eat too much,
Or on their backs recline;
I jump and bump on all of such,
Until they groan and whine.
'T is not my fault, you 'll all agree,-
I 'm naught but a goblin, as you see,
And I dance on Dream-land's sod.
But if children will stuff, why-that 's enough;
I know what to do, for "I 'm up to snuff"
For the King of the Land of Nod.

Now weave your chains, ye Dream Sprites fair,
And call the Dreams from the misty air,-
Stand back, O Goblin odd!
Old Sand Man, scatter your sand apace,
O'er each drooping eye, on each little face;
And Jack o' Dreams, jingle your merry bells,
Till the tinkling tangle falls and swells,

t See foot-note on page 164.

While trooping from Dream-land's pleasant lanes
Come the Dreams through the ring of rosy chains;
Come the Dreams so rare through the misty air,
To the King of the Land of Nod.

Dream Spriles's weaving song.:

Music composed by ANTHONY REIFF.*
A nzdant/.

dol.e. .
t do-=-- = ^--===- --- -- ----. r-

-e --

Come, come, come, Dreams of the mist y


air; Come, come, come,

^ --ZJ_| -------4---* -- ----C ------ -

Tst Htie. --

Come to these chil dren fair.

) ^5k --4

* Copyright, 188o, by Anthony Reiff




I sd time. Fi-. -

Come to these children fair. Soft and low,

'-.--f-ad -o---- S -i-g i

S n l te

Soft and low, Sing to each list-'ning ear,


Sing to each listening ear; Fall and flow,
Sing to each listening ear; Fall and flow,
- -_- -.-. . .

KING. Here, here, children dear!
Now, by my scepter's swing,
I hold you all in my mystic thrall,
Fast bound in my fairy ring;
Eyes bright, closed tight, rest ye on Dream-land's sod.
As your slumbers you keep, speak the language of sleep
To the King of the Land of Nod.

[Sit up in bed, facing the audience, and nodding their heads sleepily,
say, all together]:
We are Six Little Sleepy-heads just from the earth,
To visit the Land of Nod.
Our lessons are over, and so is our fun;
And after our romp, and after our run,
Right up to our beds we plod;
And when Mamma is kissed, and prayers are said,
Why-we drowsily, dreamily tumble in bed,
And are off to the Land of Nod.
[Fall sleepily on their couches again.]
KING. Now raise the call, my subjects all,
As ye gather on Dream-land's sod.
Bid the Dreams appear, to the children here,
And the King of the Land of Nod.

Fall and fow, ....... ................
b_ ^ ~s- '

** S^ ===E^55=^^60


Dream of the air, ap-pear !

Incantation chous ; all sing,
Music composed by ANTHONY REIFF.*
Scherzroso. I
I, __- .S____ "__

/ ? Allegretto nou trope o.

Ir""'1,^^ ^

Here ap-pear,

fJC- P-

.pDa Capo dal Segno al Fine.

Here appear, Dreams of the air, appear !


i ^^

let it ring, Ring, ring thro' the mist y air;

* Copyright, x88o, by Anthony Reiff.



___ _____ ________ ___


s- P.9 0.- ~t
Sprightly, 0 lightly, 0 Come at our call; Hith-er come,

_ -=i1=4E77

^ - - ^ -t ^ r -"

Dream-land's sod, Quickly, oh, quickly we bid you come.

i7- s- -

hith-er come, Hither come, one and all! Hith-er come,

hith-er come, Come to these children fair.



Gliding, sliding, full of joy,

Hast-en, hast-en, girl and boy. A-sleep, a-sleep on


Drowsi ly, drow-si ly, Crooning with buzz and hum,

To the King of the Land of Nod, The King of the Land of

g s441P


Nod. Good night! Good night!

St ofL of Nd

Says the King of the Land of Nod, Buzz-buzz,

:X:_. X_ =.0:E= E
:tz SJ _:

Buzz-buzz, Says the King of the Land of Nod.
. _-_- -- ,"#




, I

L.-l W. '


[As the buzz-buzz chorus is repeated, with nodding motion and music
accompaniment, the Six Dreams silently enter and stand behind
the little sleepers.]
THE DREAM PRINCE [steps in front offirst little girl].
I 'm the gallant Prince of the Fairy Isles
That float in the mists of story,
I 'm the glittering Prince of the Realm of Smiles,
And I tread the paths of glory.
I call the bright flush to each eager cheek,
As my deeds are read with rapture,
And the dangers I face and the words I speak
Are certain all hearts to capture.
O! I 've danced in the brains of countless girls,
As they 've read with joy the story
Of my wondrous treasures of gold and pearls,
And my marvelous deeds of glory.
I 'm the Prince who glitters on many a page
Of many a fairy story,
Ever young and brave, as from age to age
I reign in perennial glory;
And I come to-night at the call of my King,
To dance through your sleep, dream-laden,
And many a happy thought to bring
To my rare little, fair little maiden.
[Shakes his sword aloft.]
Here's my strong right arm, that shall shield from harm
This Queen of my Realm of Story;
I 'm your Prince so true, and I come to you,
Filling your dreams with glory.
[Steps behind her again.]
Right gallantly spoken, my brave young Prince;
No knight of my realm has trod
More loyal than you for the pleasures true
Of the King of the Land of Nod.
MY LADY FORTUNE [to first little boy].
With My Lady Fortune's wheel,
Turning ever, woe or weal,
Into every life I steal,
As to you, my boy.
Listen, while I tell to you
All I 'm able now to do,
If my aid you rightly sue,
For your future joy.
With my wheel, I '11 turn and turn
All the joys for which you yearn-
High and leaping thoughts that burn
In your heart so bright.
Wealth and health, and honor, too,
All that 's noble, brave, and true,
With my wheel I turn for you
In your dreams to-night.
But, my boy, remember this-
Guard your heart, lest Fortune's kiss
Turn your noble aims amiss
To the ditch of pride;
Wealth and health may sometimes pall;
Pride e'er goes before a fall;
With good luck be wise withal;
Never worth deride.
Fortune comes from patient heart,

Pleasures, too, from kindness start,
Luck from pluck should never part;
So, my boy, be strong!
Ever to yourself be true;
Help the needy ones who sue;
Upright be and manly, too,
Victor over wrong.
Hurrah for My Lady Fortune's Wheel!
May it turn' full many a rod,
Never for woe, but ever for weal,
Says the King of the Land of Nod.

OLD MOTHER GOOSE [to second little girl].

Over the hills and far away,
Sailing aloft on my broomstick gay,
Out from the Land of the Long Ago,
Out from the Realm of the Want to Know,
Scattering song-seeds high and low,
Travel I fast to the children.

Into your dreams I bring to-night
Snatches of song and of story bright,
Glimpses of what you know-oh, so well-
From the man who cries, "Young lambs to sell,"
To the poor drowned kitty and ding-dong-bell,
And dear old Mother Hubbard.

Old King Cole and his Fiddlers Three,
The Wise Men sailing their bowl to sea,
Humpty Dumpty, the Mouse in the Clock,
Taffy the Welshman, who got such a knock,
Little Bo-Peep and her tailless flock,
And the House-that-Jack-Built jumble.

Soon from your life I fade away;
Treasure, my dear, to your latest' day
The songs I 've sung and the truths I 've taught,
The mirth and laughter that oft I 've brought,
The sense my nonsense has ever wrought,
And the blessing of Mother Goose.

KING. Dear Mrs. Goose, I 'm proud to see
You here on Dream-land's sod;
And ever to you my castle is free,
Says the King of the Land of Nod.

THE GOBLIN CAN-AND-MUST [to second little boy].

Clank! clank! in my dungeon dank,
I live far down among chains and dust;
And I say to each girl, and I say to each boy,
I 'm the grim .old Goblin Can-and-Must.
When they go to bed ugly, and cross, and bad,
Leaving Mother and Father so sorry and sad,
Then I come-and I stand-and I say:
[Shaking his finger.]
Little boy, little boy, you are wrong, you are wrong
(And this is the burden of my song)
What your parents say Do," should be easy for you,
And you can and must obey.

Yes, you can and must do right, do right;
And however you squirm and twist,



sIlo.] THE LAND OF NOD. 169

I shall come, and shall stand in your dreams at night;
And they '11 never be happy, and never be bright,
Until love your heart has kissed,
And you 're ready to say, on the very next day,
My parents I can and must obey.
Then away from your dreams to his chains and dust
Will vanish the Goblin Can-and-lMust/


fou 're out of place, Mr. Can-and-Must! Go
From pleasant Dream-land's sod!
There 's not a boy---

[Here Can-and-Must shakes his head, and points to secondlittleboy
in proof of his statement.]
What? No?? Why! Sho!!
Says the King of the Land of Nod.

QUEEN OF THE DOLLIES [to third little girl].

Little one; pretty one;
Sleeping so sound,
Resting so calnly on Sleepy-land's ground,
Open your heart to a dream of delight,
Open your dream-lids for me, dear, to-night;
Open your dream-eyes to see what I bring,
Open your dream-ears to hear what I sing;
List to me, turn to me, here as I stand,
The Queen of the Dollies
From bright Dolly-land.

Small dreamer; wee dreamer;
Into your heart
Now, with my fancies and visions, I dart;
Visions of dollies all satin and puff,
Visions of dollies in azure and buff,
Cloth of gold, silver thread, velvets so rare,
Gossamer laces,-fair faces, real hair,-
Bonnets, and bracelets, and jewels so grand,-
Oh, sweet are the dollies
Of bright Dolly-land.

Precious one; little one;
Come, will you go
Off with the Queen to the wonders she '11 show?
Make your own heart, then, a land of delight,
Fair with life's sunshine, with love's glances bright.
Then shall we float, dear, in dreams soft and sweet,
Off to the joy-gates and down the fair street-
Into the palace and there, hand-in-hand,
Reign both-Queens of Dollies
In bright Dolly-land.

And I will go, too, fair Queen, with you,
To Dolly-land's beautiful sod.
Yes, Your Majesty bright, we will go to-night,
Says the King of the Land of Nod.

THE DREAM PRINCESS [to thint little boy].

Daisies and buttercups lowly bend-
Bend for me as I pass;

For the Queen of the Dreams to this boy doth send
His own little, sweet little lass.
O roses bright, and violets, too,
Rejoice as so swiftly I pass;
I shall dance and flutter his day-dreams through-
I 'm his own little, sweet little lass.

O Powers above! In your infinite love,
Make him gentle, and brave, and strong;
Make him fearless and true, and manly, too,
As Ye hasten his years along.

O Prince of the Isles of Beautiful Smiles,
Send us pleasure and happiness rare;
Send us favoring tides as our ship gayly glides
Down Life's flowing river so fair.
Well, well, my brave boy, there '11 be nothing but joy
In your pathway-so soon to be trod.
May this sweet little lass make it all come to pass,
Says the King of the Land of Nod.

JACK O' DREAMS [rushing in-right].

Great King! the Sun is on the run,
The lamps of day to light.
'T is time to go,-Oho! oho!
With the vanishing shades of night.
Dismiss your court, break off your sport,
'T is time that your way you trod
Around Cape Horn, ere day is born,
To the opposite Land of Nod.

SAND MAN [rushing in-left].

Too true, too true! Great King, for you
The horses of night I 've hitched
To your chariot grand, and a fresh load of sand
Into my barrow I 've pitched.
So, let us be off! Be off! be off!
To China's celestial sod;
To hold the court, and renew the sport,
Of the King of the Land of Nod.

[Spirited music-" Racquet Galop," Simmons; "Full of Joy
Galop," Fahrbach; "Boccacio March "; or other selection.]

KING [rising].

Gather and plod, gather and plod;
Up and away from the Land of Nod.


Goblins, sprites, and dreamy ring,
Gather, gather, 'round your King,
Here on Dream-land's sod.
'Round the world we now must go,
Ere the Sun his face doth show
In this Land of Nod.

[All the characters form in circle around the children and, all except-
ing the King, sing or repeat together.]





Music by W. F. SHERWIN.

Jl I I I I ) 8 -

SChil- dren dear, Sleeping here, Fare you, fare you
Pleasures bright Round you light, Happy chil dren

- ~


Might-y King, Break the ring
Might-y King, Break the ring

4 -- -


Ofthis magic spell. Nid nomoreNod no m
Of sleep's mystic thrall. o moreo no more,

ee-Da -l s-d w t

Atl raise arms. ff

Here on Dream-land's sod. Wake wake! the

spell we break Of the King of the Land of Nod.

KING [from his throne, using music of first song].

I 'm the jolly old King of the Realm of Dreams,
The sweet, sleepy Land of Nod.
But I fly from the Sun-king's morning beams,
To the Kingdom of Night and the Castle of Dreams
Far away in the Land of Nod,
In the Chinaman's Land of Nod;
For I 'm no good at all when the sunlight streams-
I am King of the Land of Nod!

[Descends from the throne.]

Gather 'round me, henchmen bold and true,
Proud knights of the Land of Nod,
Bear your monarch away 'round the world with you.

[To the children.]

God-speed ye, dear children! Whatever you do,
Come again to- the Land of Nod.
Wake, boys and wake, girls! here's the day shining
Says the King of the Land of Nod.

[All pass off in procession, Standard-bearer leading, followed by the
King and his Pages, Sand Man, Jack o' Dreams, Dream
Sprites, Dreams, and Goblins. As they move off, they sing in
chorus the following:]
Good-bye song; use the music of the Incantation Chorus "; see
Pages 166 and 767.

Tra-la-la; la-la-la; soft and slow,
Singing merrily, now we go,
Off through the misty air.
Waken, 0 little ones !-here is the dawn;
Wake, with the flush of the rosy morn
Tinging each cheek so fair.

Soft we go, slow we go, now farewell;
Dreamers, awake, we break the spell,
Haste ye from Dream-land's sod;
Good night! Good morning! say King and court,
Rouse ye, 0 children! waken to sport-
Farewell to the Land of Nod.

Good-bye! Good-bye!
Says the King of the Land of Nod;
Good-bye! Good-bye!
Says the King of the Land of Nod.

[When the last strains of the good-bye song die away, and all is
quiet, the Six Little Sleepy-heads begin to stir and stretch.
Low music,--"Nursery Tale," by Fradel; or "Blumlied," by
Lange,-during which the Six Little Sleepy-heads sit up on the
edge of their couches, rub their eyes, finally become wide
awake, and then cry out all together:]

Oh!-oh! What a beautiful dream! What a-why !
See all the people! Why, where are we? Oh!
Mamma! Mamma!

[All run offhastily.]










THE summer sun has gone, my young folk, and
the autumn has blazed itself out. Now it 's the
snow's turn. See how it comes in a merry white
dance to the warm and happy, and in cold nip-
ping blasts to the poor and sorrowful! It's a good
thing that glowing hearts can warm the earth and
drive away shadows (the Deacon says he has seen
them do it, for that matter, with a helping word, or
an old shawl, or a pair of shoes, or a gift of some-
thing in the way of food or fuel). Soon the air
will be alive with the ringing of Christmas bells.
My, what a world it is! Most of the birds and
all the flowers, hereabout, have said good-bye"
or gone into the houses; as for the trees, there
are the brave old evergreens-and Eh ?
Bless my stars What will the dear Little School-
ma'am tell me next! She says we 've a lovely and
curious winter-tree that lasts only a few hours. It
bears a great many sorts of "fruit," and does n't
stand in the open air, as ordinary trees do, but it is
housed securely from the cold.
This tree looks dismal, she says, as long as any
inquisitive boys and girls happen to be in sight;
but when they are safely out of the way, it cheers
up wonderfully, and begins to bear fruit at once.
As soon as the fruit is ripe and ready, the tree is
shut up in the dark, and no one goes near it.
By and by, when the children are gathered in
the next room, where the lights burn dim and only
whispers are heard, the doors between are thrown
open, and there stands the tree, no longer dismal,
but with a bright bud of flame on every bough, and
its arms loaded down with-well, my expectant
ones, you will know very soon, Jack hopes. Mean-
time, we 'll talk about
A CHEERY-HEARTED Englishman sends Jack this
letter, from Connecticut, which I am sure is in-

tended for some of you young folk; just read it
over, my holiday-ites, and see if it is not:

"On Christmas-eve,when the curtains are drawn close, and the lamps
are lit, and the happy home-folk are gathered before a blazing fire
in the open grate, and are telling stories or thinking kindly of absent
dear ones, it is pleasant to glance at the pretty greens in festoons
along the walls, twined over the chandeliers and wreathed about
hanging portraits and pictures, with red holly-berries peeping out
cheerfully here and there, and a bunch of graceful mistletoe-sprays
and white berries spread out over the door. This I remember seeing
in England, where most of the homes as well as the churches are
decorated at Christmas-time. But in America the custom is not so
general; yet it is very pretty, and, once tried by any who have
been strangers to it, it surely will be continued.
"Evergreens are very plentiful in America. Holly grows here
abundantly, and, although it is not so beautiful as its English cousin,
and its berries are not so bright, still its glossy leaves are very hand-
some, and the little red balls nestle cheerily among them.
ST. NICHOLAS told us in December, 1878, about the mistletoe, its
history, and the customs connected with it, and how it is gathered
in Normandy and sent to England, whence some of it comes to
English people here. But there is no need to send across the water
for mistletoe, I 'm sure; for it grows here, from New Jersey and Illi-
nois to as far south as Mexico, and is as lovely as the European kind,
although some shades lighter. Your Texar -vwn"t'ro. dear Jack,
can easily find all the mistletoe they can ..,lI ..-. chiefly on
the mesquite bushes."

WHAT queer fashions there were in the olden
times Why, Deacon Green lately remarked in
my hearing that, in the days of "Good Queen
Bess," fashionable folk in England wore gloves
that were scented and had air-holes in the palms !
Just as if the hands needed to breathe !
"And, before that time," said he, "in the reign
of Richard of the Lion's Heart, gloves were orna-
mented with jewels at the hand and embroidery at
the top. And, still earlier, five pairs of gloves were
paid yearly to King Ethelred II., as a large part of
a tribute for protecting German traders in England.
Gloves were worth a good deal then, you may be
sure. But they were worn even before that, for the
Greek Xenophon wrote down, as a solemn piece
of history, that 'Cyrus, King of Persia, once went
without his gloves.'"
I suppose the king was obliged to wear them
nearly all the time, poor fellow !
"And this very Christmas," added the Deacon,
gently, "there will be many children poor and
small, besides old, old people, who will have no
gloves, nor even mitts, to keep their hands warm,
unless some industrious, tender-hearted girl-knitters
attend to the matter."

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: In snow-time the Indians near my
home have a queer sport or practice, which your boys and girls
may like to imitate. These Indians take a stick, eight or nine feet
long and a little more than an inch thick, and shave it down to half
an inch, excepting at one end, where they leave a kind of pointed
knob. On this thick part they put strips of lead, to make the end
When complete, as I have tried to describe it, the snake is held by
its thin end and thrown along the slippery tracks made by sleighs in
the road, or over a clear space of crisp snow-crust, or on the ice of
some lake or river. It slips away and away until it is almost out of
sight, and you think it never will stop; and as it slides over uneven
surfaces, its up-and-down, wave-like motion gives it the appearance
of a snake gliding swiftly along over the snow; hence its name.
The Indians try who can make their pet "snakes" slide farthest,
some one going with the umpire to send the queer things skimming
back to the players. Messages slipped into covered grooves can be
sent in snow-snakes across long stretches of ice too thin to bear a
boy's weight, or hurled along a road from house to house, and so
save time and labor, besides making fun of the kind that warms you.
Yours truly, A. C. H.




~-~ .:-~.:~;p a~pj-RtI5'1~' ;I II


-r, ONCE there were two sun-flow-
,'3- iers who lived in a gar-den. One,
S of them knew the lit-tle girl who
,J lived next door; but the oth-er
'.. 5 did not care for any-thing but the
-. sun. The friend-ly sun-flow-er oft-
en leaned o-ver the fence and
.... bowed to the lit-tle girl. It was
.-so tall, that she could not reach
S' I i it, e-ven if she stood on her tip-
toes; but it some-times would put
L'I.it one of its broad leaves o-ver the
,. fence like a hand, and the lit-tle
girl would shake it, and say, with
a laugh:
ri "Good morn-ing, dear old Bright-
face !"
SOne day she said:
.' f. "Would you like to know my
A dol-ly ?"
:o The sun-flow-er nod-ded; so the
:' lit-tle girl reached up as high as
she could, and held up her dol-ly
to be kissed. And they were all
three ver-y hap-py.
I Then the big-gest sun-flow-er
S; nudged the oth-er, and said:
How fool-ish you are Why do
you not al-ways look at the sun, as
I do?"
'' Poor thing! It did not know
how bright a lit-tle girl's face can be,


BY W. S. H.

OH Kitty and Sir Dodo
Went out to take a ride;
And Dodo sat upon the seat,
With Kitty by his side.
Now Kitty had a bonnet on,
All trimmed with ostrich feathers;
And Dodo had pink ribbons hung
Upon the bridle leathers.

And Kitty wore a blue silk dress
With ninety-seven bows;
And Dodo's coat had buttons fine
Sewed on in double rows.
And Kitty had a parasol
Of yellow, white, and red;
And Dodo wore a jaunty cap
Upon his curly head.





Says Dodo to Miss Kitty:
" Where shall we drive to-day ?"
"Just where you please," says Kitty;
"I 'm sure you know the way."
Now Dodo had a famous whip,
That glistened in the sun,
And when he cracked the silken lash
It made the horses run.
" Oh, my !" said timid Kitty,
"I fear they '11 run away."
" Don't be afraid," said Dodo,
" I can hold them any day."
Sweet flowers were blooming all
The birds sang soft and low,
While, in the west, the setting sun
Set all the sky aglow.
Says Dodo to Miss Kitty:
"You are my pet and pride.
I love to go a-driving,
With Kitty by my side."
And then says happy Dodo:

" I know a lovely street
Where we can get some good ice-
And strawberries to eat."
How charming !" says Miss Kitty;
" I 'm sure I 'm fond of cream,
But of eating ice and strawberries,
I never yet did dream."
With that he smoothed the lap-robe
'T was made of leopard's skin,-
And put his arm around the seat
And tucked Miss Kitty in,
And said, I hope, Miss Kitty,
Your pretty feet are warm? "
Oh, thank you !" said Miss Kitty;
I think they '11 take no harm."
Thus Dodo and Miss Kitty
Enjoyed their pleasant ride,
Likewise the cream and straw-
And came home side by side.

.- -'-' ,- --- ,, -.-.

.-1" '--" '

S -- --. . . ... - - '', ./.',

- -, / th :. ':
I7 "'k -, .-*" "! i4,--

.. ," ~ ~~- -~ ,- .. . .:- -__-._




THE beautiful engraving which forms the frontispiece of the pres-
ent number, is a copy of a painting made more than three hundred
years ago by the great painter, Leonardo da Vinci. An interesting
account of his life will be given to our readers in the course of the
series of articles to be begun next month, entitled "Stories of Art
and Artists." It is enough to say here, therefore, that he was one
of the greatest men of all time, being not only a great painter, but
also a distinguished sculptor, architect, engineer, and man of science.
The picture from which our frontispiece was made, representing
the Madonna receiving a lily from the hand of the infant Jesus, is one
of Da Vinci's best, and was painted in his later years.

THE supply of good things prepared for this Christmas number
was so great that, in order to make room, it was decided to print no
illustrations to either of the serial stories in this special issue, beyond
the little diagrams given. All subsequent installments, however,
throughout the volume, will be carefully illustrated.

Here are a few curious "moral stories," which some ambitious
boys would do well to take to heart:
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: About the last place you would look for a
good moral story would be in the advertising columns of a morning
paper, but the other day I found a number there. All were short,
only one chapter of two or three lines, but they told what kind of
heroes the real world wanted, and that is my idea of a moral story.
For instance, one merchant wanted an "Intelligent boy." How
very unromantic that'merchant was! Not r t en' eti;n about the
necessity of the hero owning a revolver, 1 ...-. j : 1 ......," orhav-
ing seen an Indian. Such qualifications might weigh in a "dime
novel" series, but there is no demand for them in the advertising
columns. Ready wits and bright eyes are wanted. Next I read a
most interesting story, with an excellent moral. Wanted-Boy
from 15 to 17. Apply in own handwriting." The hero of this story
was a boy who wrote a good hand and spelled correctly.
Boy wanted who can set type and make ready on Gordon press."
This means that "knacks" and knowledge are worth dollars and
cents. The hero of this story had learned to do something useful.
Wanted,-a smart boy; must write a good hand, and come well
recommended." Did you ever know a great moral story to turn out
better than that ? Natural ability, knowledge, and character, all
recognized, sought for, and rewarded !
Such are the young heroes of real life, as faithfully pictured by the
demands of the hour. J. w. s.
THE tale of "Golden-hair," in the November number, was cred-
ited, by oversight, to Mrs. C. D. Robinson; but that lady only for-
warded the manuscript for the author, Hon. Jeremiah Curtin. For
some years, he was member of the American Embassy in Russia,
and while there he took down this and other curious folk-stories
from the lips of Russian peasants.

WE feel sure that all our readers will appreciate the beautiful set-
ting Mr. Brennan has given to the ballad of The Miller of Dee."
As the poem is a good one for recitation, however, we here reprint
it, in a form convenient for reading aloud, or learning by heart.

THE moon was afloat,
Like a golden boat
On the sea-blue depths of the sky,
When the Miller of Dee
With his Children three,
On his fat red horse rode by.
Whither away, O Miller of Dee?
Whither away so late?"
Asked the Toll-man old, with cough and sneeze
As he passed the big toll-gate.
But the Miller answered him never a word,
Never a word spake he.
He paid his toll ard he spurred his horse,
And rode on with his Children three.
He's afraid to tell!" quoth the old Toll-man.
He's ashamed to tell!" quoth he.
But I '11 follow you up and find out where
You are going, O Miller of Dee!"

The moon was afloat,
Like a golden boat
Nearing the shore of the sky,
When, with cough and wheeze,
And hands on his knees,
The old Toll-man passed by.

" Whither away, O Toll-man old?
Whither away so fast?"
Cried the Milk-maid who stood at the farm-yard bars
When the Toll-man old crept past.

The Toll-man answered her never a word;
Never a word spake he.
Scant breath had he at the best to chase
After the Miller of Dee.

"He wont tell where!"
Said the Milk-maid fair,
But I '11 find out!" cried she.
And away from the farm,
With her pail on her arm,
She followed the Miller of Dee.

The Parson stood in his cap and gown,
Under the old oak-tree.
And whither away with your pail of milk,
My pretty Milk-maid?" said he;
But she hurried on with her brimming pail,
And never a word spake she

" She wont tell where!" the Parson cried.
It's my duty to know," said he.
And he followed the Maid who followed the Man
Who followed the Miller of Dee.

After the Parson, came his Wife,
The Sexton he came next.
After the Sexton the Constable came,
Troubled and sore perplext.

After the Constable, two T _- Boys,
To see what the fun .. i i -
And a little Black Dog, with only one eye,
Was the last of the Nine who, with groan and sigh,
Followed the Miller of Dee.

Night had anchored the moon
Not a moment too soon
Under the lee of the sky;
For the wind it blew,
And the rain fell, too,
And the River of Dee ran high.

He forded the river, he climbed the hill,
He and his Children three;
But wherever he went they followed him still,
That wicked Miller of Dee!

Just as the clock struck the hour of twelve,
The Miller reached home again;
And when he dismounted and turned, behold!
Those who had followed him over the wold
Came up in the pouring rain.

Splashed and spattered from head to foot,
Muddy and wet and draggled,
Over the hill and up to the mill,
That wretched company straggled.

They all stopped short; and then out spake
The Parson; and thus spake he:
What do you mean by your conduct to-night.
You wretched Miller of Dee?"

I went for a ride, a nice cool ride,
I and my Children three;
For I took them along as I always do,"
Answered the Miller of Dee.

But you, my Friends, I would like to know
Why you followed me all the way?"
They looked at each other-" We were out for a walk,
A nice cool walk! said They.




MEISTER FICK-FECK," the curious story printed in this number,
has never appeared before in English. The author writes: It is
not a translation, but one of the lesser-known legends of the Rhine
country, often told to little children, and I heard it from my German
neighbors during a two-years' stay among them."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Here is a true little story, which your other
readers may like to hear:
Little fatherless Willie lived with his young mother far from their
"fatherland," among strangers; yet of these the merry little fellow
soon made friends. One day a new toy was given him by one of
these friends,-a tin man upon horseback, gayly painted. Willie
was charmed with this plaything; he hugged it in his arms, horse
and all, by way of rest from the exercise of riding. By and by he sat
down on the floor, holding his treasure before him with both hands;
and looking earnestly at it, he said, fondly:
He has his fader's eyes He has his fader's eyes! "
Willie had heard these words often from his mother's lips, with a lov-
ing gaze at himself; so he petted his tin darling the same way. E.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Our cousin Alice has framed the photo-
graphs of the whole family in a curious and very pretty way. She

cut out frames of the proper sizes from sheets of perforated card-
board of different colors, and pasted these frames in layers one above
another, the wider ones underneath. In most cases the frames have
one general outline, but in one or two the form is varied a little, so as
to bring out better the color of some one layer. A few of the frames
she has touched up here and there with bright oil-colors; and others
she has worked over, in vine patterns, with brilliant worsteds.
In a short letter we cannot tell you exactly how Cousin Alice
makes these pretty frames. But these rough hints may help some
girl who is in a quandary as to what useful thing she should make for
a Christmas or New Year gift.-Truly yours, BESS AND ANN.

OTHERS:) Here is a list of some numbers of ST. NICHOLAS in which
are descriptions of good and lively open-air games and sports for
boys and girls: "Japanese Games"; January, 1874-" Hare and
Hounds"; October, 1877-" Snow-ball Warfare"; January, 188--
"Snow-sports "; February, 88o-" Kite-time," telling how to make
and manage all kinds of kites; March, I880-"Kite-cutting," a
Mexican and Cuban game; April, 188-" Small-boats: How to Rig
and Sail them"; September, 88o-" Lacrosse"; November, i880
-"Quintain"; "Letter-box," November, 1880.



lay her on the bed." 4. James wanted to go fishing last Friday. 5.
"How can you call Ralph awkward?" 6. With encouragement,
,_-r-._ s she would be an excellent pianist. 7. Henry IV. of France was a
S popular king. 8. The house was flaming on all sides. 9. "Your
fine fowls have all gone to roost, Richard." io. Oh, Fernando, do
,' not frighten my birds! I,.'Place the red over the gray, to form a
pleasing contrast 12. "Fill the pipe with bark of w ll
"Faint the hollow murmur rings, o'er meadow, lake, ..., .,,:..'.
r 14. "'Tis the break of day and we must away." L. T. S.


Mv first is in call, but not in hear;
My second in doe, but not in deer;
My third is in fowl, but not in bird;
My fourth is in sheep, but not in herd;
My fifth is in earl, but not in king;
My sixth is in whirl, but not in swing.
And my whole-you surely ought to know it-
Is the name of a famous English poet.


For older Puzzlers.
ALL the characters referred to are to be found in Charles Dickens's
PRIMALs: A retired army officer who boasts ofbeing "Tough, sir!"
FINALS: A school-boy, addicted to drawing skeletons.
CROSS-WORDS: I. The surname of woman who apparently spends
all her time washing greens. 2. A name sometimes used in deris-
ion of Mrs. Cruncher by her husband. 3. The Christian name of a
shy young girl, whom Mr. Lammle tries to induce Fascination
Fledgeby" to marry. 4. The surname of a friend of Mr. -i.' ".
who, contrary to the proverb, does not grow apace." 5. 1 i-. ..
name of an eccentric old lady with a great dislike for J r.l. 6.
The nickname given to the father of Herbert Pocket's -. The
surname of a genial old fellow, who, having lost his right hand,
used a hook in its place. 8. The name of an interesting family who
lodged in the house with Newman Noggs. w.


MY whole is composed of eleven letters and is a garden cress.
Omit 1-2-3-4-5-6 and leave herbage. Omit 7-8-9-io-ii and leave
a spice. w. H.
I. I. ALWAYS in doubt. 2. Part of a wheel. 3. A city of northern
Italy. 4. Large. 5. In tone.
II. In panther. 2. An intelligent animal. 3. A kind of quad-
ruped, noted for its keen sense ofsmell. 4. An animal that is seldom
called "old," no matter how great its age may be. 5. In badger.
III. In lawsuits. 2. A useful animal. 3. A name borne by
many kings of France. 4. Sense. 5. In stall. P+x.



The proverb should be borne in mind when filling Christmas bags.

I. "Is THERE a glen on your estate, Reginald?" 2. He travels
both day and night; in gale and in sunshine. 3. "If the baby is asleep,



THE answer consists of eight words, and is suggested by the two
larger pictures in the accompanying illustration. It is a salutation
much heard during the present season. The key-words are not
d efi ned in ;),i .. 1 . 1I ..r .i.. . 1 1.. r. '.. .. -1-
w which refer t, ... ..-n r ,, .- ..i' .. .;, .. ..... -.!
given in tl .. .r r.,.-.., I i. i., !I..- ii ..-i -
indicates th ,.r I.. r ....t. :...:t1 i ,-r-T '. :.-.. r 'i ... I .
ters of the ,- 1. i. .. ..
I. ii-27-,- ii :-,:-_. ii, i
28-14-13. -- .
30-7-9-12. 0 :-;Orr
-4. VIII. (-:- I .

71-DIAB -. -

thisnuzzles .I '

corrode. 5. In knight. RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND, (across). i. In write.
2. A fixed regulation. 3. The luster of a diamond. 4. Moist. 5. In
roads. G.
\ I T 1, ,.-l F .. -Ih-hmy
i-, ,- A .. .. ,
-. -. . .- -
.. -. . . I ...p I -. ,I -

', il II : J- .

t;i ,I ', "

i* ' -

/'; = .t

*. *-'-_ ;_ -*

r;c y [ Ir _,... '1.;. r II :, ,..

.' .IT ;. i.-. . ,r. I i ri lll,, t -. e

word ofa or
ten letters r-. t.. I". i d
tWO words a .l f .. ,- I. ,,,-,," . ,. r- l -. 1. ,1 j... ,-.
two words 1 _
letterseach i.i I ...
the first hallf... .. ......,- f .: : .-..:' ;- '"";.
long world, .. i . .
mond is based; and upon the other half is based the Right-hand EA UB Al I.
Diamond. THE PRIMALS and finals spell a name which is dear to all children.
CENTRALS ACROSS: A protection to a harbor. LEFT-HAND DIA- CROSS-WORDS: i. Pertaining to schools, 2. Happening by chance.
MOND, (across). x. In doubt 2. Metal. 3. An interruption. 4. To 3. One of the United States. 4. A living picture. 5. Nameless.


HIDDEN ANIMALS. x. Elephant. 2. Camel. 3. Horse. 4. Kan-
garoo. 5.Giraffe. 6. Ape.
words: i. NantuckeT. 2. AdelaidE. 3. SwedeN. 4. HebroN. 5.
VenicE. 6. IndianapoliS. 7. LyonS. 8, LucernE. 9. EriE.
EASY F : F I .T Ti-.. re none so deaf as those who will
not hear. I .-. '- .. Harvest time.
INVERTED PYRAMID. ACROSS: i. Sheared. 2. Ended. 3. Dad,
4. M.-- QUOTATION PUZZLE. Thanksgiving.

CONCEALED SQUARE-WORDS. I. x. Sand. 2. Aver. 3. Nero. 4.
Drop. II. 1. Phase. 2. Hovel. 3. Avoid. 4. Seine. 5. Elder.
HOUR-GLASS PUZZLE. I. MerMaid. 2. StEm. 3. URn. 4. C.
5. FUn. 6. KoRan. 7. PapYrus.
CHARADE. Blue-stocking.
METAMORPHOSES. I. Black. I. Clack. 2. Crack. 3. Track. 4.
Trick. 5. Trice. 6. Trite. 7. Write. 8. White. II. Lead. i.
Load. 2. Goad. 3. Gold. III. Happy. i. Harpy. a. Harps. 3.
Warps. 4. Wards. .5 Words. 6. Wordy~.7. Worry. 8. Sorry.
IV. Hill. i. Hall. 2. Hale. 3. Vale. V. Bush. i. Bust. 2.
Best. 3. Beet. 4. Feet. 5. Fret. 6. Free. 7. Tree. VI. Summer.
i. Bummer. 2. Bumper. 3. Bumped. 4. Dumped. 5. Damped.
6. Damper. 7. Hamper. 8. Harper. 9. Harder. 1o. Harden. ir.
Garden. VII. Seed. x. Seen. 2. Sewn. 3, Sown. 4. Soon. 5.
Coon. 6. Corn.-- CRoss-woRD ENIGMA. Boot-black.

THE names of solvers are printed in the second number after that in which the puzzles appear.
SOLUTIONS TO SEPTEMBER PUZZLES were received too late for acknowledgment in the November number, from Beatrice C. B. Sturgis,
Hanover, 4-Barclay A. Scovil, 2. The numerals denote number of puzzles solved.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE OCTOBER NUMBER were received, before October 20, from "Dycie," ii--Robert B. Salter, Jr., 6-F. W.
PEl. :r.r 2-Henry and Charles, 12-Shack, x-Grace E. Hopkins, 12-T. A. B. and Belle Baldwin, 4-Alice H. Paddock, 3-" Georgia
r..- i...: c--Henrietta Howard, 2-James Tredell, --" Bluebells," 6-Lizzie H. D. St. Vrain, 9-Alice F. Brooks, o--M. A. B., ix-
O. C. Turner, 12-Lizzie C. Fowler, 8-" Suzette," 4-M. W. Carson, --John Pyne, i2-R. T. L., p-Joseph A. Kellogg, 2--" Stowe
Family," x--" Saffer," 8-Bessie Taylor, 7-G. A. Lyon, Jr., 4-P. S. Clarkson, 12-"X. Y. Z., 6-Tulpohochen, zx-Katy Flem-
ming, 9-" The Blanke Family," i--Maria C., o--Ella L. Bryan, 4-F. H. Roper, z-Evelyn F. Shattuck, xi-Alice Maud Kyte, 12
-Carrie F. Doane, 3-Sadie A. Beers and Mary J. Hull, 9-" Margaretta," 2-Bella Wehl, 2-G. H. and T. Richmond, i--G. L. C.,
r2-Eddie B. Coburm, 5-Philip Sidney Carlton, 6-" Carol and her sisters," 9-" Trailing Arbutus," 3-William F. Mandeville, 4- Mamie
and Mac Gordon, 4-Thomas Mullaney, 2-Ellie and Corrie, 7--Edward Vultee, zo-Richard Stockton, 7-" Sid and I," 9.