• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 A brown-study
 From sandy hook to the light-s...
 Milkweed playthings
 Under a fly-wheel
 Camps
 Slumber song
 The true adventures of an angora...
 How Miss Jenkins "got out...
 The elf and the spider
 Phaeton Rogers
 Mark, the dwarf
 Cham
 Cathie's story
 Flat-boating for boys
 "A boy on the place"
 Builder's by the sea
 A strange foundling
 Little Maid Margery
 In nature's wonderland; or, Adventures...
 Ye owl and ye spider
 How we belled the rat, and what...
 The St. Nicholas treasure-box of...
 Saltillo boys
 Dame toad
 Stephen and the wild bird
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover
 Spine






Group Title: St. Nicholas.
Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 8, no. 10. August 1881.
ALL VOLUMES CITATION PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00104
 Material Information
Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 8, no. 10. August 1881.
Series Title: St. Nicholas.
Uniform Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 8, no. 10
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: August 1881
 Subjects
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals.
Literature for Children
 Notes
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00104
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: notis - ocm0176
oclc - 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
oclc - (DLC) 2006255186; 55136171

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Frontispiece
        Plate
    A brown-study
        Page 737
    From sandy hook to the light-ship
        Page 738
        Page 739
        Page 740
        Page 741
        Page 742
    Milkweed playthings
        Page 743
    Under a fly-wheel
        Page 744
        Page 745
        Page 746
    Camps
        Page 747
        Page 748
    Slumber song
        Page 749
    The true adventures of an angora cat
        Page 749
        Page 750
    How Miss Jenkins "got out of it"
        Page 751
        Page 752
    The elf and the spider
        Page 753
    Phaeton Rogers
        Page 754
        Page 755
        Page 756
        Page 757
        Page 758
        Page 759
        Page 760
        Page 761
        Page 762
        Page 763
    Mark, the dwarf
        Page 764
        Page 765
    Cham
        Page 766
        Page 767
        Page 768
        Page 769
    Cathie's story
        Page 770
        Page 771
        Page 772
    Flat-boating for boys
        Page 773
        Page 774
        Page 775
        Page 776
        Page 777
        Page 778
    "A boy on the place"
        Page 780
        Page 781
        Page 782
        Page 783
    Builder's by the sea
        Page 779
    A strange foundling
        Page 784
    Little Maid Margery
        Page 785
    In nature's wonderland; or, Adventures in the American tropics
        Page 786
        Page 787
        Page 788
        Page 789
        Page 790
        Page 791
    Ye owl and ye spider
        Page 792
    How we belled the rat, and what came of it
        Page 793
        Page 794
        Page 795
    The St. Nicholas treasure-box of literature
        Page 796
        Page 797
    Saltillo boys
        Page 798
        Page 799
        Page 800
        Page 801
        Page 802
        Page 803
        Page 804
        Page 805
        Page 806
    Dame toad
        Page 807
    Stephen and the wild bird
        Page 808
        Page 809
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 810
        Page 811
    The letter-box
        Page 812
        Page 813
        Page 814
    The riddle-box
        Page 815
        Page 816
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text



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A BROWN-STUDY.


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ST. NICHOLAS.



VOL. VIII. AUGUST, 1881. No. 1o.

[Copyright, i881, by THE CENTURY CO.]


A BROWN-STUDY.

MOTHER said: "That's all, dear. Now run outdoors and play."
Father said the same;
And so I came.
But, somehow, they forget that I 'm growing every day.

A girl can't always frolic. Why, lambs are sometimes still,
Though whenever they feel like it, they caper with a will.
And birds may stop their singing while their hearts are full of song.
I 've seen them look so solemn! And when the day is long
They often hide among the boughs and think,-I 'm sure they do;
I 've peered between the twitching leaves, and seen them at it, too!

But if a girl stands still and thinks, the people always say:
"As you 've nothing else to do, dear, why don't you go and play?"

Well, all I know is this: It 's nice
To jump the rope, and skip and swing, or skate on winter ice;
It 's nice to romp with other girls and laugh as loud as they,-
But not to-day.

Dear me! How sweet and bright it is, this lovely, lovely Earth!
And not a thing upon it dreams how much it 's really worth.
Except the folks. They calculate and set themselves quite high;
Oh, my!

You dear, good sky, to bend so soft and kind above us all!
(It 's queer to think this great wide world is nothing but a ball
Rolling, they say, through space;-
How does it keep its place?
None of my business, I suppose.)-I wonder if the brook
Is full to-day. It 's early yet;-I think I '11 go and look.
VOL. VIII.-47.







FROM SANDY HOOK TO THE LIGHT-SHIP.


-FROM SANDY HOOK TO THE LIGHT-SHIP.

B3 JOHN V. SEARS.


"SEE here, Mother; here's a dandelion, as
bright as gold! Spring is here at last, and I '11
have to be making garden in a day or two."
"Yes, David; spring has come, and I suppose
we must get about our work pretty soon."
Mrs. Throckmorton had opened the sitting-room
window to talk with David, and, as the warm sun
streamed in, and a soft air stirred the sweet-brier
which he was fastening against the side of the cot-
tage, it, seemed as though spring was not coming,
but going, and that summer must be near at
hand. But there was little summer in her eyes.


SMALLEY, WITH A LITTLE BOAT, MEETS THE GUEST F-_
.... -_-Y WITH I T
.. .-



SMALLEYV, WITH A LITTLE BOAT, MEETS THE GUEST FR(


"You don't seem to feel very glad, Mother; I
thought you 'd be real pleased to see the first dan-
delion."
"Oh, I am, of course. It is always nice to see
things growing, and the flowers coming out again;
but it just reminds me that I must be writing to
Mr. Wilson."
"What about? They '11 not want to come down
these two months yet." -
They want Remsen to come down as soon as
the weather 's mild enough."
"Remsen alone?"
"Yes, I suppose so. You know he 's delicate,
and they want him to live longshoree awhile."


"He eats too much, and makes himself sick;
that 's all the 'delicate he is."
"Hush, my son; the doctor says he needs a
change."
"Yes, he does need a change; any change
would be for the better; but I wish he would n't
come here for it."
"David David! you must n't talk so! I dare
say he 's a good boy enough, only he 's been too
much petted at home."
"Rem Wilson is not a good boy; he 's mean,
selfish, conceited, and overbearing; that's what he
is; and I know he does n't tell the
truth, either."
"My dear son, don't say such
things, even if you think them."
"Well, Mother, I never do, only to
you; but it 's a fact, and I don't like
him."
"I know it, and I 'm very sorry;
but it can't be helped now. I 've
promised to take him, and besides,
they pay well, and we need the
money."
The Throckmortons lived near the
mouth of the Shrewsbury River, and
at that time-many years ago-the
old Shrewsbury inlet was open, mak-
ing a navigable water-way between
the river and the sea. A steam-boat
plied every day between the river and
:-- New York, running through the inlet
at high tide, as at low water the sand
was nearly bare. In about a week
after the finding of the dandelion, the
Ssteam-boat brought down Rem Wilson
M TOWN.
and his trunk, and Smalley was sent
to the Ocean House landing with a little boat to
bring the guest home. Smalley was a young col-
ored retainer of the Throckmortons, about the same
age as David,-thirteen or fourteen years. His
real name was Charles Peck, but he was so little
that the boys called him "Small Measure," and
this title degenerated in time to "Smalley," or
"Smalls."
David did not go to meet Remsen, as he was
busy in the garden, and this work pressed so hard
that for some time the boys saw very little of each
other. Remsen tried his hand at digging and
planting for a day or two, but he soon tired of it
and wandered off longshoree. He wearied of the


738


[AUGUST,






FROM SANDY HOOK TO THE LIGHT-SHIP.


shore, too, presently, and began to tease David to
go out sailing or fishing. David refused, on ac-
count of his work; but his mother intervened and
asked him to go.
It is dull here for Remsen," she said, and we
must try to entertain him; besides, his mother has
written especially to request that we shall not cross
him in anything more than we can help. The
doctor says it is bad for his nerves."
David owned a seine-skiff, eighteen feet long and
pulling four sweeps. She had a center-board, was
rigged with mainsail and jib, and was a good sailer
with any wind. This boat, called the "Alice,"
was overhauled, and put in good trim, and, on a
pleasant afternoon, Remsen was taken for a sail.
He was satisfied for a while, tacking about the
river, but ...i.:.-il., he wanted to run out through
the inlet and take a good long stretch on the ocean,
where they would n't have to jibe every five minutes.
David said no; it was too late in the day, and, fur-
ther, he never went outside without letting his
mother know. Remsen jeered at him for being a
baby, tied to his mother's apron-string, and sharp
words followed, of course, so the excursion was not
a pleasant one, after all.
Remsen appealed to Mrs. Throckmorton for per-
mission to go out on the sea, but she, too, decidedly
said no. He persisted in teasing for two or three
days, and she finally resolved to refer the matter to
his father. On the following Monday, Remsen
walked over to Port Washington, and returned


marked, however, there could be no gainsaying
black and white, so the boy carried his point.
There was no peace in the house thereafter until
the arrangements for the expedition were all made,
and the tide served right for an early start, and the



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MAKING READY FOR THE CRUISE,


with an open letter in his hand, declaring his weather promised to be fair all day. The settle-
father consented to an occasional trip out through ment of these various conditions occupied several
the inlet -when the -t ,-fir --- fhir. days, and, during the time, Remsen continued to
pro.:. .,-,l l..: I.:. I ;i..' l 1i ii fret and worry until the family were glad enough
Da..l i-...l .d il ii T'- hiii. : when a morning came that David thought would
wt- ...- i .i .t ia..'- suit their purpose. A very early breakfast was
torn .. .' hurried through; a pair of plump roasted chickens,
pa.. some beef sandwiches, and a basket of goodies were
shT packed away in the stern locker of the boat; the
fishing-lines and a "blickie of soft clams
Sfor bait stowed in the forward locker, a com-
'- fortable armful of oil-skins and wraps was
bundled under the thwarts,
and before sunrise, the three
-~-~- _-- .. boys, Remsen, David, and
--__Smalley, started to spend
.- the day on the sea.
-- .-.- They had some crooked
work to get out of the river, with light airs
.. baffling about the Navesink Highlands, but, after
clearing Sandy Hook, they found a steady breeze
Mrs. Throckmorton. She read the paragraph with from the south-west, balmy and pleasant as a
a good deal of surprise, as, from the explanations breath of midsummer. Remsen thought he would
she had made in her letter to Mr. Wilson, she like to see how Long Branch looked from the
expected Remsen's request would not be granted sea, so they made their jib, hauled the sheets
at all, or, at least, not so readily. As she re- close, and stood down the shore about six miles,


739







FROM SANDY HOOK TO THE LIGHT-SHIP.


until they ran past the town. Then they put Smalley got a bite, and, in the course of an hour
about, lifted the center-board, and squared away or so, they caught several fine cod. When Remsen
for a race before the wind. There were a good had pulled up his second fish, David decided it was
___ time to start for home. The sun was yet high, and
-Remsen wanted very much to "catch just one
--:._--- more," so they waited another half-hour and then
_- sail was made again. As they got under way,
---_ S Smalley discovered a school of porpoises, the
.---- first of the season, just off their starboard
_- .- bow. David started the sheet a little, and
-_ _--= -.S -_/- t the "Alice" glided quietly in among them,
---2-- without disturbing them in the least. They
rolled lazily over in the sea, and grunted
...-.-... and snorted like a drove of pigs, playing
_-___::_. y around the bows of the boat, so close that
.....: .------- s the boys could almost reach out and touch
..... --_-them. Even David had never before en-
joyed an opportunity to become so inti-
Smately acquainted with porpoises, and the
boat was allowed to drift along with the
.--_ school, while the boys leaned over the side
and watched the motions of the clumsy
to,/ creatures with intense interest. Finally,
Smalls straightened himself up, and, taking
a look about, exclaimed in surprise:
I"Hi, Marse Dave, if dere aint de big
light "
Dave sprang to his feet and there, sure
enough, was the great light-house on Sandy
Hook, square on their weather beam. The
"Alice" had drifted into the ship-channel, and
the wind and tide together had carried her along
-. .-.- much more rapidly than her crew realized, busy
as they were in studying natural history.


"SWOOPING ALONG, OVER THE LOW, BROAD BILLOWS."
many coasters and small craft going up to 'J.
York with all the canvas spread they could carr bI:t
the "Alice ".passed them all, swooping along o .:,
the low,'broad billows like an osprey in its fliglhr.
The boys enjoyed this fun heartily, and shouted
in high glee whenever they shot ahead of a
sloop or schooner on their course. The _
whole morning was spent in giving chase
to one vessel after another, and at noon
they found themselves well up toward -
Romer's Shoals. Then they dropped the -
jib, slacked the peak, and laid the "Alice to
for dinner. The center-board was laid athwar, -
ships for a table, the provisions were unpack. I
and spread out in tempting array, jack-knives :i!d
jaws were plied with industry, and the chicik.:r.
and crullers disappeared with amazing speed.
After dinner, they put off shore about eight miles
to the fishing grounds, and tried their luck for cod-
fish. They did not catch anything for a long time,
and Remsen got tired of waiting for fish that did
not come. Just as they were about to give it up,


_--- -- .-

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-------

i 1 !i' ,, '1 "- a


-- n-
-









t vuulin u uL -
that jib!" -
cried Dave, THE PORPOISES PLAYED AROUND THE BOAT.
as he jumped aft, cast off the sheet, and put the
-=

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that jib! "
cried. Dave, THE PORPOISES PLAYED AROUND THE BOAT.
as he jumped aft, cast off the sheet, and put the
Alice" before the wind.
Why, what are you going to do ?" asked Rem-


740


[AUGUST.






FROM SANDY HOOK TO THE LIGHT-SHIP.


sen, surprised by the sudden activity
panions. Are n't we going home ?
"If we can get there ansx
I -


y of his com- dirty-white foam came dancing by, on the surface
" of the sea. At the same instant, the wind died out
vered Dave. with a long sigh, and a flat calm fell upon the
water. The boat lost way, and her head swung
slowly round and pointed toward the open ocean.
The tide had turned.
Out sweeps!" cried David, dropping the jib
and letting the mainsail run down at the same
time. ".Take an oar, Rem. I'11 pull against you
--- and Smalley. Give way for your lives, fellows !
---- Bend to it now, smartly! "
The boys pulled with a will, and once more the
__ boat began to crawl up toward the black buoy.
The tide was beginning to run strong, however,
and it required their utmost exertions to force the
heavy boat against it. She moved slower and
'--- slower as she neared the goal, and David had to
urge the others by voice and example at every
stroke. Just as he was thinking, We shall make
it, after all," Remsen threw up his oar, exclaiming:
S "I can't pull this thing; it hurts my hands."
David's eighteen-foot sweep gave the boat a
sheer, the rushing current caught her under the
counter, and in an instant she was whirling out to
T ... sea ten miles an hour.
Smalley r '..ke out


" We've missed the inlet, fooling around with those
plaguy porpoises; can't make it with wind dead
against us, and now we must push for inside the. -
Hook, and then work our way home as best
we can."
They ran on at a lively gait for a mile
or two, but then the wind began to fall as -. -
the sun sank behind the Highlands, and an -- -_ -_
anxious shade came into David's frank face. i- --
"Here, Rem," he said, "you take the -_
tiller, while I go forward and look for the _-_- -_
black buoy."
As he stepped upon the forward locker, F -
he could see the buoy which marks the -----
point of Sandy Hook, about half a mile _
ahead, and, noting that it stood straight in
the water, he knew that the flood was full,
and in a few minutes the ebb- tide would set
in. The boat still rippled along fairly well, ..
but the boom swung ominously to and fro no
as the wind came in light puffs, each fainter -
than the last. If the breeze would only hold :- .
a few minutes to carry them inside the buoy. E: t
they would be all right. It might take them r
some hours after that to reach home, but the --
get there safe and sound before midnight. Davtd
watched the sail and the buoy with the closest THE LIGHT-SHIP, OFF SANDY HOOK.
attention. The black cylinder drew near and
nearer, and his hopes rose every moment. He in loud reproach and lamentation, but "Marse
was actually counting the rivets on the side of the Dave 'I -ad nothing to say. He could not trust
buoy next the sun, when a long, crooked line of himself .o speak, and so, wisely, kept silent, vig-


i88i.]


741






FROM SANDY HOOK TO THE LIGHT-SHIP.


orously setting about stowing the sails and making
everything snug aboard.
"What are we going to do now?" asked
Remsen.
"Nothing."
"Where are we going?"
"Nowhere."
Come, you 're not going to stay here all night !
Let 's be going home."
"All night it is No home for us till to-morrow
morning! "
When Remsen fairly understood that they must
stay out all night on the ocean in an open boat, he
was frightened out of his wits. He wanted to get
out the sweeps again, and try once more to pass
the black buoy, promising to pull twice as hard as
before; but David said:
Too late the tide rips through there now like
a mill-race Twenty men could n't stem it! "
As the "Alice drifted out with the ebb, the twi-
light deepened into darkness, the land disappeared,
the stars shone in the sky wonderfully near and
bright, and the awful solemnity of solitude on the
sea encompassed the benighted young voyagers.
David was very anxious about his mother, and he
also had some fears of the storm signs noticed at
sunset; but otherwise he and Smalls were com-
fortable enough, making a hearty supper of sand-
wiches and crullers, and stowing themselves on the
thwarts, afterward, wrapped up for a nap. But
Remsen was too miserable to either eat or sleep.
He fretted and moaned incessantly,-was so un-
reasonable, pettish, and absurd that the others lost
all patience, and finally paid no more attention to
his complaints.
During the evening, the wind rose again, and,
backing round to the south-east, began to blow
quite heavily. This wind against tide made an ugly,
chopping sea, which pitched the "Alice" about
with a sharp, jerking motion, exceedingly trying to
any one unaccustomed to the water. The two
longshoree boys did not mind it, but the city-bred
youth was made deathly sick. He had made so
much ado before, that no notice was taken of him
.for a long time, and he lay neglected on the stern-
sheets, tumbled about from side to side, as the
boat tossed and twisted in the sea; sick, bruised,
frightened, thinking he surely should die-the most
forlorn aid wretched object imaginable. After a
time, David discovered that the limp heap on the
locker, wet, draggled, and half unconscious, was
really Rem Wilson in distress, and he accordingly
bestirred himself to extend help. But it was very
difficult to do anything for the patient. He slid
off the locker and rolled around in the bottom of
the boat, too dolefully sick to know or to care what
was going on about him. David was troubled,


and knew not what to do, until, after a while,
Smalley had a bright idea, as, indeed, he often had.
"Dere 's de light-ship off to windward," said
that diminutive person; "let 's get 'em to take
him aboard and put him to bed."
Accordingly, they made sail on the "Alice,"
trimmed her flat, and ran down to the two great
globes of fire that showed where the beacon-boat
lay.
Light-ship, ahoy hailed David, as they drew
alongside.
"Ay, ay answered a gruff voice.
If Ned Osborne is there, tell him Dave Throck-
morton wants to come on board."
Ned Osborne, the light-keeper, answered in
person, and, on David's explaining matters, he
rigged a whip used for taking in stores, and pres-
ently had the sick boy safely slung from the boat
to the deck of the ship. Rem was then carried
below and put in a berth, where he was taken care
of as best he could be under the circumstances.
The boat was made fast, and the two other boys
were also given berths aboard the ship.
Next morning, Dave was astir before daylight,
and, finding the invalid unfit to be moved, he
decided to put off without him, as the wind was
rising and the storm threatened to grow more vio-
lent. The cod-fish were brought aboard from the
"Alice," a breakfast of fish, potatoes, and hard-tack
was shared with the watch on deck, and then the
seine-skiff was headed for home, under double-
reefed mainsail. The breeze was very stiff, and
the boat fairly flew through the water, making the
seven miles between the light-ship and Sandy
Hook in half an hour.
It was still early when the two boys reached the
house, and they found that Mrs. Throckmorton
had been waiting for them all night, walking the
floor most of the time in restless anxiety.
"I should n't have felt so bad about it," she said,
"but you were hardly out of sight when neighbor
Simmons came in with this letter he had brought
over from Port Washington the night before. It
is from Mr. Wilson, and he very decidedly forbids
Remsen's going outside the Hook before settled
summer weather. I can't understand why his
letter to Remsen and this one to me should be so
different."
"I can," said Dave; "Rem wrote that post-
script himself."
"Dear dear do you really think so?"
I thought so from the first, and now I feel sure
of it."
"Well, I look for his father this afternoon or
to-morrow, and then we 'll know. I wrote him
again by the first mail yesterday."
Mr. Wilson arrived toward evening, as expected,


[AUGUST,


742





MILKWEED .PLAYTHINGS.


and was very much alarmed and distressed to find
his boy was off on the light-ship. By that time
the storm had set in furiously, and there was noth-
ing to be done but wait for better weather. When
asked as to the postscript, he merely shook his
head and walked quickly away; so there was very
little said about it. A terrific tempest raged on
land and sea for three days and nights, flinging
many a wreck upon the coast, and causing sad
destruction of property on shore, beside. Mr.
Wilson chartered a sloop at Port Washington to
go off to the light-ship; but it was late on the
fourth day before they could venture to go out.
Just as they were getting under way, Smalley dis-


covered a sail coming up the river, which he de-
clared was Ned Osborne's cutter.
As the craft drew near, it proved to be Ned
Osborne, indeed, bringing the sick boy home.
The agonies he suffered on the light-ship, his
terrible experience during the storm, and the
shame and contrition he felt on coming back,
worked a wonderful change in Rem Wilson. He
looked like the ghost of his former self as they
carried him into the house.
"This will be a lesson for him that he '11 never
forget," said David.
And he never did, being a different and a better
boy from that day forth.


MILKWEED PLAYTHINGS.


----, By EMMA M. DAVIS.

F LMrosT ev- as a spide
erybody, miles away
,- at some many a tin
time or from the
other, has sphere, wi
Made the cluster abc
S acquaint- wind picks
i n.', oIl It,.- milkweed, but if you

S,-.,.i itl .:-ied. disturbed,
SA I:. i.:r. for each of oyster-shell
Sh i.: 1i i n- :. is very ap- packed so
'. riiL'i.. i.t you break get out, in
he r.:,-i,. sticky sub- will be cov
~ ::,- !!:- milk runs beautiful,
l.. 1. I, ch will stain way of sud
r .', .:. .... Why the so all wint
.' '"l.i i, called silk- weed.
I...",..I. i : :ll explain to My sister
( 1,,, c i-.- ly. silkweeds
i 1:i.!- .. ti!"is weed very where w 1k
.L,.II II n ".'w England formed the
i.:i f a little girl. pod would
i4 iJul t hangs out a only feathe
L--"u. i.-il .it _mall purple the stem tc
L. I.:II. ''.I later, after sharpened
i-... i_. ,.' I- .. ,:.,,- have gone, served for
verylarge seed-pods are on the poi
formed, which grow to be several inches long, and Thanksgiv:
are pointed at the end opposite the stem. If these ens for dii
pods were left on the plant until the seeds were feathers of
fully ripened, they would split open themselves, off their le
and gradually the seeds would fly out, carrying table, inste
with them enough of these silken threads, as fine as you do


r's web, to float them on the wind for
,perhaps. You must have seen them
ie. The silk radiates in every direction
central seed, making a gauzy, filmy
th a small, dark center. The seeds
ut the opening of the pod, until the
them out and carries them abroad,
pick some of the pods when green,
hem in a vase where they are not
the pod will open part way, like an
, and the fine silken threads, folded and
closely in the center, will fly apart and
some way, so that after a while the pod
ered with a cloud of white. This is very
and, if it stands in a corner out of the
den breezes, it will be likely to remain
er. You now see why it is called silk-

r and I yearly collected several of these
for our play-house by the stone-wall,
:ept our bits of broken china, and trans-
pods into domestic animals. Often, a
be well shaped for a chicken, requiring
rs to be stuck into the pointed tail, and
be broken off short at the other end and
to represent the bill. Two sticks put in
legs, so that it would rest on these and
nt of the tail. When we played that
ing Day had come, and wanted chick-
nner, we had only to pull out the tail-
a pair of" fowls," and, of course, take
gs; and, when they were ready for the
ad of carving, we split open the pods,
those of the pea or bean, and behold!


188x.]


743







UNDER A FLY-WHEEL. [AUGUST,


there was the most tempting-looking white" and
" dark meat within. The white meat was fibrous,
like silk, and lay in the center; over it were flat
brown seeds, overlapping one another like the
shingles on a house-roof, and making our dark
meat."
We not only transformed these pods into poultry,
but also into quadrupeds of all sorts. Put in four


legs, a pair of horns, and a tail, and you have
your cow, and one, too, which really gives milk!
Leave off the horns, take a bit of your own hair to
use for a tail, and you have a horse.
But these are only a few hints, and I will let you
experiment-for yourself this season, and find out
what you can do beyond this, in making animals
and other figures.


UNDER A FLY-WHEEL.

BY HENRY CLEMENS PEARSON.


IT was ten o'clock in the morning.. Every one
in the factory was at work. The clicking and
rattling of the lighter machinery, the groaning of
heavily laden shafts, the oily thud of hundreds of
cogs, mingled in busy din. The huge engine
sighed as, with its brawny arm of polished steel, it
impelled the main shaft to turn the wheels of the
factory.
Tom worked, by the door, near the engine-room.
He could, therefore, easily see the engine and all
its-surroundings. The interest of its rapid, cease-
less motion partly reconciled him to the fact that,
while most boys of thirteen were enjoying full lib-
erty outside, he was shut up within doors.
This morning, more than usually, he 'had been
watching the forbidden splendors of the engine-
room, for the engineer allowed no one in his sanc-
tum. The great machine fascinated Tom with its
easy grace of movement. His eyes dwelt long on
the neat finish of the hexagonal bolt-heads that
gleamed about the cylinder. He tried to tell, from
his position, how full the glass oil-cups were, as
they flashed to and fro on the polished arm; and
then his eyes rested on the fly-wheel that revolved
so gracefully in its narrow prison. Only one-half
of the wheel could he see at once, the other half
being below the floor, almost filling a narrow, rock-
lined cavity called the "pit."
As Tom watched the whirling spokes, it seemed
as if the mass of iron stood still, so swift was its
motion. He remembered that once the engineer,
seeing his interest in the machinery, had invited
him in, and that he had stood leaning over the
frail wooden guard, his face so close to the fly-
wheel that the wind from its surface blew back his
hair, while he looked down into the pit with wonder
and dread. He remembered asking the engineer
if he supposed any one could climb down there
while the engine was in motion. The answer had


come: There is n't a man in the factory that has
nerve enough,, even if there were room,"-the
space between the wheel and the wall being hardly
a foot and a half in width.
The boy's eyes next wandered from the object
of his thoughts, and rested on the bright brass
domes of the force-pumps that occupied a brick
" settle on one side of the room; and then up to
the maze of pipes that crossed and recrossed above
the toiling machinery.
Suddenly, glancing down, he saw a little child
standing beneath the guard, close to the great fly-
wheel.
The. engineer was nowhere in sight, and little
May was his only child. Tom's heart gave a great
leap. In an instant, he had scrambled down from
his perch, and was in the engine-room.
As he passed the door-way he was just in time to
see the child toddle forward and fall into the pit!
With an awful shudder, he waited to see the mon-
ster wheel spurn the baby-girl from its cruel sides;
but no such sight came.
He dashed forward and looked into the pit.
She sat on the hard, rocky bottom, sobbing softly
to herself. .The fall had not harmed her, yet
she was still in great danger. Any attempt to
move from. her position would give the relentless
wheel another chance.
Tom slipped out of his brown "jumper," tore
off his light shoes, and stood inside the guard.
One eager look in the direction of the iron door
through which the engineer would come, and then
he began the descent. The great mass of iron
whirled dizzily close to his eyes; the inclined plane
down which he was slowly sliding was covered deep
with dust mingled with oil; the thick, oily, damp
air, fanned by the heavy breeze from the wheel,
almost took his breath away. Where the curve of
the wheel was nearest, it almost brushed his clothes.


744


UNDER A FLY-WHEEL.


[AUGUST,






UNDER A FLY-WHEEL.


With his back pressed tight against the rocks, he
slid down until his feet struck the bottom. And now
came the worst part of the ordeal-the ponderous
wheel, sweeping in giddy curves above him, so
affected his nerves that his strength began to fail.
There was one space where the wheel curved away
from a corner, so he dropped on his knees there
and for an instant shut his aching eyes.
The child was in the other corner of the pit,
sitting in an open space similar to that in which
Tom knelt. As he looked past the terrible barrier,
she made a movement as if to stand up. That
brought back Tom's fleeing senses. If she should


her face again with her little hands and sobbed
harder than ever. Tom crept on until he came so
near to the child that he could lay hold of her
dress; then he stopped. A strange, dizzy blur
kept throwing a veil over his eyes, and he tried in
vain to overcome a longing for sleep. He could
feel the ceaseless whirl of the great wheel, and it
made him almost wild. Curious vagaries and half-
delirious fancies danced through his head. With
an effort he threw them off, and, raising his face
from the rocky couch, called for help.
Instantly, a dozen mocking voices from the sides
of the pit flung back the cry into his very ears.


"THE CEASELESS WHIRL OF THE GREAT WHEEL ABOVE HIM MADE HIM ALMOST WILD."


stand up, the wheel would strike her. Lying care-
fully flat upon the bottom of the pit, he began
slowly and cautiously to work his way beneath the
mass of flying iron. He could feel the awful wind
raising his hair as he crept along. Nearer and
nearer he came to the child and nearer to the curve
of the wheel. As he passed beneath it, an incau-
tious movement and a sudden "burn" on his shoul-
der showed that he had touched it.
The little one had not seen him at all yet, as she
had been sitting and rubbing her eyes, but she
looked up now, and seeing the pale face streaked
with oil and dust coming toward her, she covered


But the wheel caught the cry, and whirled it away,
up into the engine-room, in distorted echoes. He
called again, and the sounds seemed less terrible.
The little girl tried to get up, but he held to her
white dress and soothed her the best he could.
A moment later, he distinctly heard footsteps in
the engine-room, then he felt that some one was
looking into the pit, and then the' clattering of the
piston in the empty cylinder showed that the en-
gine was soon to stop.
Less swiftly, and at last slowly and more slowly,
whirled Tom's massive jailer; fainter and fainter
came the clatter of the piston, until both ceased,


745


x883.]







UNDER A FLY WHEEL. [AUGUST,


and the engineer, with great beads of perspiration
on his white forehead, swung himself between the
harmless spokes of the fly-wheel and got down
close to the two prisoners.
"Is she hurt, Tom ?" he gasped.
"No, sir," said Tom, faintly. If you 'd only
stop the fly-wheel, I 'd lift her out."
"It is stopped, my lad-it 's your dizzy head
that deceives you. Let me take my little May."
The engineer reached down and lifted his darling
up from the dust, and, holding her fast on one arm,
climbed out.
Tom lay still. He did not seem to care, since the
little one was safe and the fly-wheel had stopped.
He felt a fearful weariness stealing over him. He.
would like to sleep a year.
The engineer was by his side a moment later,
asking if he was hurt.
: No, sir, I think not;-only a little tired," said
Tom, and slowly and wearily his eyes closed.












---.74




-~p"-





*:} ,( .,
,, '' >-


Without another word, the strong man lifted him
up from the rocky floor and its foul air, and, climb-
ing again by the spokes of the fly-wheel, bore the
boy out of his dungeon. The air from the open
window soon cleared the sleepiness away, and
he was able to tell the whole story. The engineer
grasped his hand, but he could not speak, and
there were tears in his eyes.
Many were the words of praise from the sturdy
workmen that crowded in from the steel works "
to see why the engine had stopped. Tom was the
hero of the day.
When the superintendent heard of it, he sent for
a hack and had Tom taken home in style, with a
comfortable little present in his pocket, and the
permission to be out until he should feel all right
again. It took about a week to clear the dizzy
feeling entirely away, and at the end of that time
he was working at his machine just as if he had
never been under a fly-wheel.


THERE was an old woman who lived by the sea,
And she was as merry as merry could be.
She did nothing but carol from morning till night,
And sometimes she caroled by candle-light.
She caroled in time and she caroled in tune,
But none cared to hear save the man in the moon.


746


UNDER A


FLY-WHEEL.


[AUGUST,






CAMPS.


CAMPS.
(A Summer Game for Parlor, Picnic, or Lawn.)

ADAPTED BY G. B. BARTLETT.


.. -.. HIS fascinating game, which
can be played by little
children with great pleas-
S ure and profit, has capa-
bilities well worthy of close
attention from the wisest
and keenest wits. It is a
descendant of the old-
fashioned Twenty-Oues-
tion amusement, and was
designed to do away with
the objectionable points
of it, and to introduce,
at the same time, the in-
terest of movement,which
it lacked. All players of
Twenty Questions will
admit that it often be-
comes dull through long
delay in asking and an-
swering questions, the sub-
tleties of which seldom fail to provoke tedious argu-
ment, sometimes ending in disagreeable disputes.
The rules of this game wholly prevent delay or
argument, and every player is kept busy all the time,
instead of impatiently waiting for his turn to play.
Six players are required for the game, but the
more the better, as the number of camps is only
limited by the size of the play-ground, and the
number of contestants in each camp can vary from
two to twenty.
The best arrangement of rooms for this game,
when played in-doors, is to find two rooms con-
nected by a small hall, as it is better to have the
camps out of ear-shot of each other.
In mild weather, "Camps" makes an excellent
outdoor game for country or sea-side, and
picnic parties may be specially arranged for the
purpose. These may be made picturesque by
providing the different camps with bright flags,
bearing some appropriate number or device, to
designate each camp, and these the victors proudly
wave in token of triumph. The embassadors
also must be provided with white flags of truce,
and the generals, or commanders, may wear bright
scarfs, or rosettes, 'as badges of office. Lawn-
tents may also be utilized as head-quarters, and
these, with gay streamers and banners, will add
liveliness to the effect.


To begin the game, all meet and choose one
general for each side. These two are to serve as
umpires, for the immediate settlement of all dis-
puted questions; and they, also, are to send out
such embassadors as they think best, and to
assume the whole management of their respective
sides. They draw lots for the first choice of camps
and followers, and each chooses, in turn, one person,
until all the players are divided. The companies
then march, with uplifted flags, to take possession
of their respective camps, when all sit in compact
groups around the generals.
Each side, or rival camp, then sends out an
ambassador with a flag of truce; these two persons
meet midway between the two camps, which should
be as far apart as possible, as it is important that
the conversation should not be heard by the groups.
These embassadors choose some object which can
be definitely described, no matter how remote or
obscure, from fact, history, or legend. As soon as
the object is agreed upon, each embassador repairs
to the camp opposed to the one from which he was
sent, and announces, in a loud voice, the kingdom
to which the object belongs, either animal, mineral,
or vegetable; or, if composed of parts of these, he
mentions that fact. He must then answer, with
perfect clearness, all questions, as nearly as he can
in their order, and as rapidly as possible, making
no puns, equivocations, or unnecessary delays,
which is pretty hard to do satisfactorily, as a deluge
of questions is poured upon him from the excited
players in wild confusion. The camp which first
guesses the correct word claims as a prisoner the
embassador from whom it was guessed, and also
recalls the one sent out from it.
The word chosen must have a definite designa-
tion; as, for instance, the first bean planted by
Jack for his bean-stalk, the left ear of the Trojan
horse, or the last or middle word in the Magna
Charta, etc.
New embassadors are sent forth with varying
success, and as soon as one camp captures a pris-
oner, its triumph is announced by loud clapping of
hands and by waving of flags. Sometimes these
sounds of victory arise almost simultaneously from
both camps, in which case the question of prece-
dence becomes a difficult one for the leaders to
settle; and, to avoid dispute, when the matter is in
doubt, the decision may be made by drawing lots.


X88r.]


747







748


CAMPS.


In a very large company, it is better to have an
even number of camps, to arrange them in line
opposite each other, and to have major-generals in
command of the lines of camps, one on each side,
the lines playing against each other. The heads
of each line of camps work under the major-gen-
eral of their own side, who may send reinforce-
ments from one camp to another that is weakened
by loss of embassadors. In these great games, it
is best to play against time, and to consider as vic-
torious the side that has the most men at the expi-
ration of an hour, or whatever time may be fixed by
the major-generals for the duration of the contest.
In a small game of only two camps, the victory
rests with the camp which has taken all the players,
excepting the leader, from the opposing camp. It
often happens that a camp is reduced to but two


[AUGUST,


players, and, since one must go as an embassador,
only one remains to guess the word; but, if he is
skillful, his camp slowly grows, until, one by one,
he succeeds in winning at the last by capturing all
his adversaries.
Now and then, among older and more practiced
players, it may be found an interesting variation
to prohibit the asking of any question that can not
be answered by saying only "yes" or "no."
The most out-of-the-way and curious objects are
often guessed by experienced players in a few mo-
ments, and, as both sides are always kept actively
at work, the fun never flags, for the prisoners are
welcomed with the wildest enthusiasm by the con-
querors. Captured embassadors must give their
best efforts to their conquerors, so that party strife
may be prevented and harmony may prevail.


A RUSSIAN HARVEST SCENE.






ADVENTURES OF AN ANGORA CAT.


SLUMBER SONG.

BY CELIA THAXTER.


IN the winged cradle of sleep I lay
My darling gently down;
Kissed and closed are his eyes of gray,
Under his curls' bright crown.

Where, oh where, will he fly and float,
In the winged cradle of sleep?
Whom will he meet in the worlds remote,
While he slumbers soft and deep?

Warm and sweet as a white blush rose,
His small hand lies in mine,


But I can not follow him where he goes,
And he gives no word nor sign.

Keep him safe, ye heavenly powers,
In dream-land vast and dim!
Let no ill, through the night's long hours,
Come nigh to trouble him.

Give him back, when the dawn shall break,
With his matchless baby charms.
With his love and his beauty all awake,
Into my happy arms!


THE TRUE ADVENTURES OF AN ANGORA CAT.

BY ANNA T. RANDALL-DIEHL.


I AM over on the next page.
Do you know what I am? Cover up my head
and I know you will say I am a dog, with long,
shaggy hair, just because I hate dogs Cover up
all but my head, and you will say I am a cat.
Would you like to hear my story?
When I was a wee white kitten, away off in the
interior of Asia, a gentleman came and told my
mother that he wanted two of her little ones to
carry to America, a country quite on the other
side of the world. My mother was at first very
unwilling to part with us, but the gentleman soon
won her over by telling how pretty we were, how
long was our soft, white fur, and how we should be
admired by everybody in that far-off land.
I wanted my mother to say yes, for I longed to
see the world, and to go to a place where I should
have so much attention paid me. I was only a
kitten then, and I trust all rhy vanity has disap-
peared with my youth.
At last my mother consented, and after giving us
much good advice about keeping our eyes and ears
open, and making us promise to be kind and
loving to each other, and never, never to forget
her, she mewed an affectionate farewell.
In honor of our dear native home, Angora, the
kind gentleman gave me the name of Angie, and
called my companion Gora.
How do you think we traveled? We were


placed in a basket, which was slung upon the side
of a camel. The camel is a queer creature. He
goes jolting forward and backward, and whoever
rides upon his back goes up and down, up and
down, until he is shaken almost into jelly. Some-
body has called the camel "the ship of the desert,"
because he carries the treasures over the sandy
waste; but Gora and I thought he was rightly
named from another cause, for we were as sea-sick
as afterward we became upon the ocean. Having
crossed the desert and arrived at the coast, we were
placed in a box on shipboard, where we had a little
more room, but still we were not very comfortable.
Our companions on the voyage were several
hundred cashmere goats, only interesting to us
because they, too, were brought from .our old
home, Angora. They were always hooking and
kicking each other, and when they organized a
concert, their music was hideous.
Week after week passed, and many and many a
time I wished myself safely back within reach of
my mother's paw. Gora would often look at me
pitifully, and then burst into a prolonged mew.
That went to my heart like a dagger; for when I
had begged our mother to let us go, poor Gora had
set up her voice against it. At last.we landed in
California, and our life in the new world began.
For several months we lived in the city of San
Francisco. It all seemed new and strange, yet


749






ADVENTURES OF AN ANGORA CAT.


SLUMBER SONG.

BY CELIA THAXTER.


IN the winged cradle of sleep I lay
My darling gently down;
Kissed and closed are his eyes of gray,
Under his curls' bright crown.

Where, oh where, will he fly and float,
In the winged cradle of sleep?
Whom will he meet in the worlds remote,
While he slumbers soft and deep?

Warm and sweet as a white blush rose,
His small hand lies in mine,


But I can not follow him where he goes,
And he gives no word nor sign.

Keep him safe, ye heavenly powers,
In dream-land vast and dim!
Let no ill, through the night's long hours,
Come nigh to trouble him.

Give him back, when the dawn shall break,
With his matchless baby charms.
With his love and his beauty all awake,
Into my happy arms!


THE TRUE ADVENTURES OF AN ANGORA CAT.

BY ANNA T. RANDALL-DIEHL.


I AM over on the next page.
Do you know what I am? Cover up my head
and I know you will say I am a dog, with long,
shaggy hair, just because I hate dogs Cover up
all but my head, and you will say I am a cat.
Would you like to hear my story?
When I was a wee white kitten, away off in the
interior of Asia, a gentleman came and told my
mother that he wanted two of her little ones to
carry to America, a country quite on the other
side of the world. My mother was at first very
unwilling to part with us, but the gentleman soon
won her over by telling how pretty we were, how
long was our soft, white fur, and how we should be
admired by everybody in that far-off land.
I wanted my mother to say yes, for I longed to
see the world, and to go to a place where I should
have so much attention paid me. I was only a
kitten then, and I trust all rhy vanity has disap-
peared with my youth.
At last my mother consented, and after giving us
much good advice about keeping our eyes and ears
open, and making us promise to be kind and
loving to each other, and never, never to forget
her, she mewed an affectionate farewell.
In honor of our dear native home, Angora, the
kind gentleman gave me the name of Angie, and
called my companion Gora.
How do you think we traveled? We were


placed in a basket, which was slung upon the side
of a camel. The camel is a queer creature. He
goes jolting forward and backward, and whoever
rides upon his back goes up and down, up and
down, until he is shaken almost into jelly. Some-
body has called the camel "the ship of the desert,"
because he carries the treasures over the sandy
waste; but Gora and I thought he was rightly
named from another cause, for we were as sea-sick
as afterward we became upon the ocean. Having
crossed the desert and arrived at the coast, we were
placed in a box on shipboard, where we had a little
more room, but still we were not very comfortable.
Our companions on the voyage were several
hundred cashmere goats, only interesting to us
because they, too, were brought from .our old
home, Angora. They were always hooking and
kicking each other, and when they organized a
concert, their music was hideous.
Week after week passed, and many and many a
time I wished myself safely back within reach of
my mother's paw. Gora would often look at me
pitifully, and then burst into a prolonged mew.
That went to my heart like a dagger; for when I
had begged our mother to let us go, poor Gora had
set up her voice against it. At last.we landed in
California, and our life in the new world began.
For several months we lived in the city of San
Francisco. It all seemed new and strange, yet


749






[AUGUST,


ADVENTURES OF AN ANGORA CAT.


we were glad of at least one thing: while the
people talked so queerly that we could not under-
stand a word, the cats, dogs, horses, and mules of
America used the very same language that those
of Asia use. It is strange that cats should have
an advantage over men, but they seem to, in
speech. My master studied a great many lan-
guages,-he had to have a different one for nearly
every land he visited,-but we cats have a universal
tongue the wide world over.
After a while, we were again put in a box and
carried upon shipboard; but this time the journey
was short, and in a few weeks we landed in the
great city of New York. What a noise what a
confusion of noises! Here we were soon taken to
a very pretty house, and Gora was decked with a
pink ribbon, tied around her neck, while I wore a
blue one. We frolicked and played to our hearts'
content, only Master never would let us go out-of-
doors-not even into the back yard-without hav-
ing somebody to lead us, for he said we were each
worth more than a hundred dollars in gold, and
somebody might be prowling about to steal us
away.
Then came the sad day when Gora went to
Washington, and I was left alone.
I had not long to be lonely, though, for in a
little while Mr. Barnum came, and invited me to
spend a little time at his great museum. I became
a member of his "Happy Family"; but I shall
not tell the professional secret of how I-who
always had a keen tooth for a bit of fresh meat-
learned to let a canary perch upon my head, white
mice run over my paws, and a rabbit sit by my
side, without an attempt to eat any of them.
We were a queer cage-full, and for many months
crowds of people came to see us. But, one day,
some good angel must have whispered to my
master to take me away. That very night, when
I was safely sleeping upon a cushion at the foot of
his bed, the museum caught fire. Oh, how the
lions and tigers roared and how the poor mon-
keys chattered But there was no escape for any
of them. Nearly all the animals, including every
one of my companions of the "Happy Family,"
were burned to cinders.
I heard Master read it all in the newspapers the
next morning, and I purred about him, and rubbed
my head against his hand, by way of thanking him
for saving my life.
Soon after this escape, I started for Washington
to make Gora a visit, and upon this journey a sad
thing befell me. As the distance was not very great,
my master did not put me in a box, but carried me
in his arms. While our cars were stopping at a
station, another train, with its fiery engine at its
head, went thundering by; I was frightened quite


out of my wits at its sudden appearance, and as
the window was open, I sprang out and started for
the nearest woods. My poor master, who had
brought me so many miles by land and sea, felt so
bad that he stopped at the next town and offered
twenty dollars reward for my recovery.
Twenty dollars !
Whew! Was n't every boy in town upon the
search? while many people said:
What a silly man No cat in all the world is
worth so much !"
You should have seen the lucky fellow who


PORTRAIT OF "ANGIE.


caught me. Did n't his eyes sparkle when the
crisp bank-note was put into his hand!
So I reached Washington safely, after all, but
not in time to see my darling Gora. A few days
before, she had been suddenly taken ill, and
although she was dosed with cat-mint and care-
fully nursed, the disease proved fatal.
I can not tell you how I mourned over my lost
sister. For a long time I mewed all day and
howled at night with uncontrollable grief.
But my, story is already too long fo6? your
patience. I am now an old cat, and have jour-
neyed over a great part of the world. Such an
aversion have I to any more traveling that, when-
ever a wooden box is brought into the room, I
fancy that I am again to be sent upon a journey,
and I retreat under the sofa, thrust my claws into
the carpet, and cling there for dear life.


750







HOW MISS JENKINS "GOT OUT OF IT."


HOW MISS JENKINS "GOT OUT OF IT."

BY MARY C. BARTLETT.


ITwas 'writing afternoon,"-said Miss Jenkins,-
and my scholars were new. If you had ever been a
teacher, my dear, you would realize what the com-
bination of those two simple facts implies-the
weariness of body and the utter vexation of spirit.
First, there 's the holding of the pen. If there 's
one thing more than another in which scholars
exhibit their own originality, it is in managing a
pen-holder. I 've counted one-and-forty different
ways, among as many boys, more than once-
each separate way quite different from what I had
taught them five minutes before.
Then, the ink: To some it was simply ink,
nothing more. To others it seemed an irresistible
tempter, whispering of unique designs, grotesque
or otherwise, to be worked out upon desk or
jacket, or perhaps upon the back of one small
hand.
Well, upon the afternoon of which I am going
to tell you, I had had more correcting to do than
usual, for some of the scholars were stupid, and
could n't do as I wished; and others were careless,
and did n't try. What with the looking, and stoop-
ing, and continual showing, I felt my patience
giving way, and when I saw that three of the
largest boys had left the page upon which they
should have been practicing, and were making
"unknown characters in different parts of their
books, I lost it utterly.
"That I will not have," said I, sharply. "I
will punish any boy who makes a mark upon any
but the lesson-page."
They were very still for a while. Nothing was
.heard but the scratch, scratching of the pens, and
the sound of my footsteps as I walked up and
down the aisles. Involuntarily, I found myself
studying the hands before me as if they had been
faces. There was Harry Sanford's, large and
plump, but flabby withal, and not over clean.
His "n's" stood weakly upon their legs, seeming
to feel the need of other letters to prop them up.
iai alr.Lane's, red and chapped, with short,
Stubbd fingers, nails bitten off to the quick, had
yet a certain air of sturdy dignity; and his "n's,"
if not handsome, were certainly plain, and looked
as if they knew their place, and meant to keep it,
too.
Tommy Silver's, long and limp, besmeared
with ink from palm to nail, vainly strove to keep
time with a tongue which wagged, uncertainly,


this way and that, and which should have been
red, but was black, like the fingers. His "n's"
had neither form nor comeliness, and might have
stood for "v's," or even x's," quite as well.
Then there was Hugh Bright's hand, hard and
rough with work, holding the pen as if it never
meant to let it go; but his "n's were "n's," and
could by no possible chance be mistaken for any-
thing else.
At length I came to Frank Dunbar's desk-dear
little Frank, who had been a real help and comfort
to me since the day when he bashfully knocked at
my door, with books and slate in hand. His hand
was white and shapely; fingers spotless, nails im-
maculate, and his "n's"-but what was it that
sent, a cold chill over me as I looked at them?
Ah, my dear, if I should live a thousand years, I
could never tell you how I felt when I found that
Frank Dunbar had written half a dozen letters
upon the opposite page of his copy-book !
Why, Frank," said I, "how did that happen ?"
"I did it."
You did it before I spoke ?" said I, clinging to
a forlorn hope.
No, 'm; I did it afterward. I forgot."
Oh, Frank my good, good boy How could
you? Don't you see that I shall have to punish
you ?"
Yes, 'm,"-the brave blue eyes looking calmly
up into my face.
"Very well; you may go to the desk."
He went, and I walked the aisles again,-up and
down, up and down, giving a caution here or a
word of advice there, but not knowing, in the least,
what I was about. My thoughts were all with the
flaxen-haired culprit, who stood bravely awaiting
his penalty.
Vainly I strove to listen to my inward monitor.
It seemed suddenly to have become two-voiced,-
the one tantalizing, the other soothing,-and, of
course, the tones were conflicting.
You must punish him," said one.
You must n't," said another.
"He deserves it."
"He does n't."
"He disobeyed you flatly."
"But he forgot-and he has always been so
good."
"But you promised. You have given your
word. Here are thirty boys to whom you should


751






HOW MISS JENKINS "GOT OUT OF IT."


be an example. Do you think they are not watch-
ing you? Look at them "
I did look at them. Walter Lane's sharp black
eyes and Harry Sanford's sleepy orbs were fixed
curiously upon me. Nor were these all. Gray
eyes, blue eyes, hazel and brown eyes,-all were
regarding me intently; I almost fancied that they
looked at me pityingly. I could not bear it.
"Attend to your writing, boys." Then I walked
slowly up to the desk.
You see how it is," said the troublesome voice.
" You will certainly have to punish him."
But I had thought of a possible plan of escape.
"Frank," said I, you have been disobedient,
and-you know what I said, but-you are such a
good boy that I can not bear to punish you-not in
that way, I mean. You may go to the foot of your
class instead."
"I'd rather take the whipping." The honest,
upturned face was very sober, but betrayed not the
least sign of fear, nor was there the slightest sus-
picion of a tremble in the clear, childish voice.
"Bless your brave little heart," thought I. Of
course you would! I might have known it," and
again I walked the aisles, up and down, thinking,
thinking.
"You will have to do it," repeated the voice.
"There is no other way."
I can not,-oh, I can't," I groaned, half aloud.
"The good of the school requires it. You must
sacrifice your own feeling and his."
"Sacrifice his feelings Loyal little soul!-good
as gold, and true as steel."
No matter, you must do it."
I wont!"
I walked quickly to the desk, and struck the bell.
The children looked wonderingly. Listen to me,
boys," said I. "You all know that Frank Dunbar
is one of our best scholars."
Yes 'in, yes'm !" came from all parts of the
room, but two or three of the larger boys sat silent
and unsympathetic.
You know how ambitious he is in school, and
what a little gentleman, always."
"Yes'mi. That's so. We know." Only two
unsympathetic faces now; but one of them, that of
a sulky boy in the corner, looked as if its owner
were mentally saying: Can't think what you 're
driving at, but I'11 never give in-never."
"You all know how brave he was when Joe
Willis dropped his new knife between the boards
of that unfinished building on Corliss street. How
he did what no other boy in school would do-let


himself down into the cellar, and groped about in
the dark until he found it for him."
"We know that-yes 'm. Hurrah for "
"Stop a minute. One thing more."
Sulky-boy's companion was shouting with the
rest, and Sulky-boy's own face had relaxed.
You all know," said I, how he took care of
Willie Randall when Willie hurt himself upon the
ice. How he drew him home upon his own sled,
going very slowly and carefully that poor Willie
might not be jolted, and making himself late to
school in consequence."
"Yes 'm. Yes, ma'am. Hoo-ray for little Dun-
bar!" Sulky-boy was smiling now, and I knew
that my cause was won.
"Very well," said I. "Now let us talk about
to-day. He has disobeyed me, and-of course I
ought to punish him."
"No'm, you ought n't. Don't punish him! We
don't want him whipped "
"But I have given my word. It will be treating
you all unfairly if I break it. He has been such
a good, true,, faithful boy that I should like very
much to forgive him, but I can not do it unless
you are all willing."
"We're willing. We '11 give you leave. We '11
forgivehim. We 'll "
Stop I want you to think of it carefully for
a minute. I am going to leave the matter alto-
gether with you. I shall do just as you say. If,
at the end of one minute by the clock, you are sure
you forgive him, raise your hands."
My dear, you should have seen them! If ever,
there was expression in human hands, I saw it
in theirs that day. Such a shaking and snapping
of fingers, and an eager waving of small palms,-
breaking out at last into a hearty, simultaneous
clapping, and Sulky-boy's the most demonstrative
of all!
"Disorderly," do you say? Well, perhaps it
was. We were too much in earnest to think of
that. I looked at Frank. His blue eyes were
swimming in tears, which he would not let fall.
As for me, I turned to the blackboard, and put
down some examples in long division. If I had
made all the divisors larger than the dividends, or
written the numerals upside down, it would not
have been at all strange, in the circumstances.

And the moral of this-concluded Miss Jenkins
(she had just been reading "Alice in Wonder-
land ")-is that a teacher is human, and a human
being does n't always know just what to do.


752


[AUGUST,






THE ELF AND THE SPIDER. 753


THE ELF


PERCHED on a stool of the fairy style,
An elf-boy worked with a mischievous smile.
"That careless spider!" said he, "to leave
His web unfinished! But I can sew:
I '11 spin, or sew, or darn, or weave-
Whatever they call it-so none will know
That his spidership did n't complete it himself,
Or I 'im a very mistaken young elf!"

Well, the wee sprite sewed, or wove, or spun,
Plying his brier and gossamer thread;
And, quick as a ripple, the web, all done,
VOL. VIII.-48.


AND THE SPIDER.

BY M. M. D.


Was softly swaying against his head
As he laughed and nodded in joyful pride.
Ho! ho! it's done!
Ha! ha! what fun!
And then he felt himself slowly slide-
Slide and tumble-stool and all-
In the prettiest sort of a fairy fall!
Up he jumped, as light as air;
But oh, what a sight,
What a sorry plight-
The web was caught in his sunny hair!
When, fresto on sudden invisible track,


X88.]


- -






PHAETON ROGERS.


That horrible spider came lumbering back:
"WHO'S BEEN AT MY WEB? WHAT HO!
COME ON!"
And he knotted for fight,
The horrid fright!
But the elf was gone-
Poor, frightened fay!
Nothing was seen but a tattered sheen,
Trailing and shining upon the green.


But all that night, with dainty care,
An elf sat tugging away at his hair.
And 't is whispered in Elf-land to this day
That any spider under the sun
May go and leave his web undone,
With its filmy thread-end swinging free
Or tied to the tip of a distant tree,
With never a fear that elfin-men
Will meddle with spider-work again.


PHAETON ROGERS.*

BY ROSSITER JOHNSON.


CHAPTER XVII.

HOW A CHURCH FLEW A KITE.

As SOON as possible, Phaeton went down town
with his drawing in his pocket, and hunted up the
office of the chief-engineer. This, he found, was
in the engine-house of Deluge.One,-a carpeted
room, nearly filled with arm-chairs, having at one
end a platform, on which were a sofa and an
octagonal desk. The walls were draped with
flags, and bore several mottoes, among which were
"Ever Ready," "Fearless and Free," and "The
Path of Duty is the Path of Glory." Under the
last was a huge silver trumpet, hung by a red cord,
with large tassels.
This was the room where the business meetings
of Deluge One were held, and where the chief-
engineer had his office. But the young men who
were now playing cards and smoking here told
Phaeton the chief-engineer was not in, but might
be found at Shumway's.
This was a large establishment for the manu-
facture of clothing, and when Phaeton had finally
hunted down his man, he found him to be a
cutter,-one of several who sfood at high tables
and cut out garments for the other tailors to make.
"I 've come to consult you about a machine,"
said Phaeton.
"How did you happen to do that?" said the
chief-engineer.
"A friend of mine-a railroad man-advised me
to," said Phaeton.
"Clever fellers, them railroad men," said the
chief-engineer; "but what 's your machine for?"
"For putting out fires," said Phaeton.
"One of them gas arrangements, I suppose,"
said the chief-engineer,-" dangerous to the lives
of the men, and no good unless it 's applied in a
close room before the fire begins."


"I don't know what you mean by that," said
Phaeton; "but there 's no gas about mine."
The chief-engineer, who all this time had gone
on cutting, laid down his shears on the pattern.
"Let 's see it," said he.
Phaeton produced his drawing, spread it out
before him, and explained it.
"Why, boy," said the chief-engineer, "you
could n't-and yet, perhaps, you could-it never
would-and still it might-there would be no-but
I 'm not so sure about that. Let me study this
thing."
He planted his elbows on the table, each side of
the drawing, brought his head down between his
hands, buried his fingers in the mass of his hair,
and looked intently at the picture for some min-
utes.
Where did you get this ?" said he, at last.
I drew it," said Phaeton; "it 's my invention."
"And what do you want me to do about it? "
"I thought, perhaps, you could help me in get-
ting it into use."
"Just so! Well, leave it with me, and I '11
think it over, and you can call again in a few days."
Phaeton did call again, and was told that the
chief-engineer was holding a meeting in the engine-
house. Going over to the engine-house, he found
it full of men, and was unable to get in. The
next time he called, the chief-engineer told him he
"had n't had time to look it over yet." Next
time, he was "not in." And so it seemed likely
to go on forever.
But meanwhile something else took place, which
called out Phaeton's inventive powers in another
direction.
It happened that the pastor of the Baptist church,
in talking to the Sunday-school, dwelt especially
on Sabbath-breaking, and mentioned kite-flying as
one form of it.
"This very day," said he, "as I was coming to


Copyright, 188o, by Rossiter Johnson. All rights reserved.


754


(AUGUST,






l88sx.


PHAETON


church, I saw three wicked boys flying kites in the
public street, and one of them sits in this room
now. "
A boy who knew whom the pastor referred to,
pointed out Monkey Roe.
As many of the school as could, turned and
stared at Monkey. The truth was, he had not
been flying a kite; but on his way to church he
passed two boys who were. It was the universal
practice-at that time and in that country, at least
-when a boy was flying a kite, for every other
boy who passed to ask "how she pulled?" and
then he generally would take the string in his
hand a moment to see.
If she pulled hard, the flyer was rather proud to
have his friends ask the question and make the test.
In fact, I suppose it would hardly have been polite
not to ask.
Monkey had just asked this interesting question,
and had the string in his hand, when the pastor
happened to pass by and see the group. Of course
it would have been well if he could have.stood up
in the Sunday-school, and simply told the fact.
"But he was not the sort of boy who could do such
a thing, at any time, and he was especially unable
to now, when he was taken by surprise and felt that
an outrage had been committed against his charac-
ter and reputation.
But perhaps the pastor was not much at fault.
He had probably been born and brought up in a
breezeless country where kite-flying was unknown,
and therefore was ignorant of its amenities.
Just before the school closed, Monkey was struck
with a mischievous idea.
"I prophesy," said he to the pastor's son, who
sat next to him, that this church will fly a kite all
day next Sunday."
"I should be delighted to see it," said the pas-
tor's son.
Early Monday morning, Monkey went over to
Dublin, and found Owney Geoghegan, who had
chased and found one of the kites that drew Phae-
ton's machine. Monkey obtained the kite, by
trading a jack-knife for it, and carried it home.
Every day that week, as soon as school was out, he
took it to a large common on the outskirts of the
town, and flew it. He thoroughly studied the dis-
position of that kite. He experimented continually,
and found just what arrangement of the bands
would make it pull most evenly, just what length
of tail would make it stand most steadily, and just
what weight of string it would carry best.
It occurred to him that an appropriate motto
from Scripture would look well, and he applied to
Jack-in-the-Box for one, taking care not to let him
know what he wanted it for. Jack suggested one,
and Monkey borrowed a marking-pot and brush,


ROGERS.


755


and inscribed it in bold letters across the face of the
kite.
Finally he procured a good ball of string, a long
and strong fish-line, and a small, flat, light wooden
hoop, which he covered with tin-foil, obtained at
the tobacco-shop.
Saturday night, Monkey's mother knew he was
out, but not what he was about, and wondered why
he staid so late. If she had gone in search of
him, she might have found him in Independence
Square, moving about in a very mysterious man-
ner. The Baptist church, which had a tall, slender
spire, ending in a lightning-rod with a single point,
faced this square.
It was a bright, moonlight night, and it must
have been after eleven o'clock when Monkey
walked into the square with his kite, accompanied
by Owney Geoghegan.
Monkey laid the kite flat on the ground near one
corner of the square, stationed Owney by it, and
then walked slowly to the opposite corner, unwind-
ing the string as he went.
After looking around cautiously and making sure
that nobody was crossing the square, he raised his
hand and gave a silent signal. Owney hoisted the
kite, Monkey ran a few rods, and up she went. He
rapidly let out the entire ball of string, and she
sailed away into space till she hovered like a night-
hawk over the farthest corner of the sleeping city.
The Sunday-school room was hung round with
mottoes, printed on shield-shaped tablets, and
Monkey had made copies of some of them on
similarly shaped pieces of paper, which he fastened
upon the string at intervals as he let the kite up.
Among them I remember Look aloft! Time
flies and "Aspire! "
Then Monkey took up the hoop, and tied the
string through a hole that was bored near one edge.
Through a similar hole on the opposite side of the
hoop, and near the same edge, he tied about a yard
of comparatively weak string. To the end of this
he tied his long fish-line, which he carefully paid
out. The kite sailed still higher and farther away,
of course carrying the hoop up into mid-air, where
it was plainly visible as the tin-foil glittered in the
moonlight.
So far, Monkey's task had all been plain mechan-
ical work, sure of success if only performed with
care. But now he had arrived at the difficult part
of it, where a great amount of patience and no lit-
tle sleight-of-hand were necessary. The thing to
be done was, to let out just enough string for the
kite to carry the hoop exactly as high as the top of
the steeple.
It took a vast deal of letting out, and winding in,
walking forward, and walking backward, to accom-
plish this, but at last it seemed to be done. Then







PHAETON ROGERS.


he must walk back and forth ti
the hoop not only on a level w
spire, but directly over it, which]
As the strings were fastened a
hoop, of course it remained con
When, at last, Monkey had
over the point
rod, he slowly,
and very stead


ill he had brought
ith the top of the
h took more time.


below the top of the spire, and once there, he could
only poke his head out at a little trap-door. The
annearance of his head at this


It one edge of the door was the signal for a derisive I.-
stantly horizontal, shout from a group of
brought it exactly
Sof the lightning-


carefully,
lily

_--- -i


.1-o0y lowered the
A handinwhich
he held the
string down to the ground. The
hoop encircled and slid down
the rod, and, after two hours'
hard work, his task was virtu-
ally done. He had now only
to walk up to the church, and
give a steady, hard, downward
pull at the fish-line, when the
weak piece of string that
fastened it to the hoop
snapped in two. Winding
up the fish-line, he slipped
it into his pocket, said
good-night to Owney,
walked silently home,
and went to bed.
Sunday morning had
S dawned beautifully, and
/' l everybody in town, who
ever went to church at
:.1- all, prepared for church.
SAs the time for services
approached, the bells
rang out melodiously;
down every street, door
after door opened, as
individuals and families stepped forth, attired in
their best, and soon the sidewalks were full of peo-
ple passing in every direction.
Somebody discovered the kite, and pointed it
out to somebody else, who stopped to look at it,
and attracted the attention of others; and thus the
news spread.
A few groups paused to gaze and wonder, but
most of the people passed on to their respective
churches.
Somebody told the Baptist pastor of it as he was
ascending the pulpit stairs.
I'll have it attended to," said he; and, calling
the sexton, he ordered him to go at once and take
it down.
Easy to say, but impossible to, do. The highest
point the sexton could reach was a good distance


756


[AUGUST,


boys on the
sidewalk.
By the time the services
in the various churches were over,
and the people on their way home,
nearly everybody in town had heard of
the phenomenon. They gathered in
small groups, and gazed at it, and talked
about it. These groups continually grew
larger, and frequently two or three of them coa-
lesced. They soon found that the best point to
view it from-considering the position of the sun,
and other circumstances-was the south-west cor-
ner of the square; and here they gradually gath-
ered, till there was a vast throng, with upturned
faces, gazing at the kite and its appendages, and
wondering how it got there.
It was amusing to hear the wild conjectures and
grave theories that were put forth.
One man thought it must have been an accident.
"Probably some boy in a neighboring town," he
said, "was flying the kite, when it broke away,
and, as the string dragged along, it happened to
catch on that steeple."
Another said he had read that in China grown-up
people flew kites, and were very expert at it.
"Depend upon it," said he, "you '11 find there 's
a Chinaman in town."
Another presumed it was some new and ingen-
ious method of advertising. Probably at a cer-
tain hour," said he, "that thing will burst, and
scatter over the town a shower of advertisements
of a new baking-powder, warranted to raise your
bread as high as a kite, or some other humbug."
Still another sagacious observer maintained that
it might be merely an optical illusion,-a thing
having no real existence. It may be a mirage,"
said he; "or perhaps some practical joker has
made a sort of magic-lantern that projects such an
image in mid-air."
Patsy Rafferty happened to see a lady sitting at
her window, and looking at the kite through an
opera-glass. Immediately he was struck with an
idea, and ran off home at his best speed. His
mother was out visiting a neighbor; but he did n't
need to call her home; he knew where she kept
his money.
Going straight to the pantry, he climbed on a
chair and took down what in its day had been an
elegant china tea-pot, but was now useless, because


--






PHAETON ROGERS.


the spout was broken off. Thrusting in his hand,
he drew out the money which the clown had col-
lected for him from the crowd on the tow-path,-
every cent of it, excepting the crossed shilling, the
bogus quarter, the brass buttons, and the temper-
ance medal. Then he ran to a pawnbroker's shop,
before which he had often stood and studied the
"unredeemed pledges" there displayed.
The pawnbroker, whose Sabbath was the sev-
enth day, sat in the open door, smoking a pipe.
"How much for a spy-glass ?" said Patsy, as
soon as he could get his breath.
"Come inside," said the pawnbroker. "This
one I shall sell you for five dollars-very cheap."
And he handed Patsy an old binocular, which
really had very powerful glasses, though the tubes
were much battered. Patsy pointed the instru-
ment outdoors, and looked through it.
Oh, Moses said he, as a dog larger than an
elephant ran across the field of vision.
Sir? said the pawnbroker.
"I can't buy it," said Patsy, with a sigh, laying
it upon the counter.
Why not ?" said the pawnbroker.
"I have n't enough money," said Patsy.
"How much you have got?" said the pawn-
broker.
"Three dollars and eighty-four cents."
"And you don't get some more next Saturday
night ?" said the pawnbroker.
"No," said Patsy.
"Well, you are a good boy," said the pawn-
broker; "I can see that already; so I shall sell
you this fine glass for three dollars and eighty-four
cents,-the very lowest price. I could not do it,
but I hope that I trade with you again some day."
Patsy put down the money in a hurry, took the
glass, and left the shop.
He went to where the crowd was gazing at the
kite, took a long look at it himself, and then
began renting out the glass at ten cents a look, at
which price he found plenty of eager customers.
When they looked through the glass, they read
this legend on the face of the kite :

Yt e s\akak \Oka&e vn aboOiKVn-
tdon th\e \v'te after \his \in\nL.
LEVIT. XI., 13, 14.
When Teddy Dwyer saw the success of Patsy's
speculation, he thought he also had an idea, and
running home, he soon re-appeared on the square
with a large piece of newly smoked glass. But
nobody seemed to care to view the wonder through
smoked glass, though he offered it at the low price
of "wan cent a look," and Teddy's investment was
hardly remunerative.


Patsy, before the day was over, amassed nearly
thirteen dollars. He carried it all home, and, with-
out saying anything to his mother, slipped it into
the disabled tea-pot, where the money collected for
him by the clown had been kept.
The next day he quietly asked his mother if he
might have ten cents of his money to spend.
"No, Patsy," she answered, "I 'm keeping that
ag'in the day you go into business."
But Mrs. Rourke was present, and she pleaded
so eloquently Patsy's right to have a little enjoy-
ment of what he had earned," that his mother
relented, and went to get it.
"Either my hands are getting weak," said she,
as she lifted it down, "or this tea-pot has grown
heavy."
She thrust her hand into it, uttered an exclama-
tion of surprise, and then turned it upside down
upon the table, whereupon there was a tableau in
the Rafferty family.
"I often heard," said Mrs. Rafferty, "that
money breeds money, but I never knew it bred so
fast as that."
She more than half believed in fairies, and was
proceeding to account for it as their work, when
Patsy burst out laughing, and then, of course, had
to tell the story of how the money came there.
"And so you got it be going' after pawnbrokers,
and be working' on Sunday? said his mother.
Patsy confessed that he did.
Then I '11 have none of it," said she, and open-
ing the stove, was about to cast in a handful of the
coins, when she hesitated.
"After all," said she, "'t is n't the money that's
done wrong; why should I punish it?"
So she put it back into the tea-pot, and adopted
a less expensive though more painful method of
teaching her son to respect the Sabbath.
In the bitterness of the moment, Patsy firmly
resolved that when he was a millionaire-as he
expected to be some day-he would n't give his
mother a single dime. He afterward so far re-
lented, however, as to admit to himself that he
might let her have twenty thousand dollars, rather
than see her suffer, but not a cent more.


CHAPTER XVIII.

AN EXTRA FOURTH OF JULY.

DEACON GRAHAM had predicted that "the wind
would go down with the sun," and then the kite
would fall. But the prediction was not fulfilled;
at least there seemed to be a steady breeze up
where the kite was, and in the moonlighted even-
ing it swayed gently to and fro, tugging at its


757


X88.]1







758


PHAETON


string, and gracefully waving its pendulous tail.
All the young people in town appeared to be walk-
ing out to see it, and the evening services were very
slimly attended.
Monday morning, the trustees of the church
began to take vigorous measures for the suppression
of the mysterious kite.
The cart of Hook and Ladder No. I was wheeled
up in front of the church, and the longest two
ladders taken off, spliced together, and raised with
great labor. But they fell far short of reaching any
point from which the hoop that held the kite could
be touched.
"I hope you are satisfied," said the foreman
of the Hook-and-Ladder company to the trustees.
"I told you them ladders would n't reach it, nor
no others that you can get."
"Yes, I see," said Deacon Graham. "I sup-
posed the ladders were longer. But we 're very
much obliged to yon and your men."
"You're welcome," said the foreman, as the
men replaced the ladders on the cart. "And by
the way, Deacon, if you was thinking of sending a
dish of oysters and a cup of coffee around to the
engine-house, I may say that my men prefer Sad-
dle-rocks and Java."
Just so!" said the Deacon. "I'll send
Saddle-rocks and Java, if I send any."
One of the trustees suggested that the most
muscular of the firemen might go up in the steeple,
open the little trap-door, and from there throw
clubs at the string.
One of the firemen procured some sticks, about
such as boys like for throwing into chestnut-trees,
and went up and tried it. But the door was so far
below the top of the steeple, and the position so
awkward to throw from, that he did not even hit'
the string, and after one of the clubs in descending
had crashed through the stained-glass sky-light of
a neighboring mansion, this experiment was aban-
doned.
The next plan brought forward consisted in
firing with rifles at the kite, the hoop, and the.
string. The trustees looked up two amateur
huntsmen for this purpose.
As there was a city ordinance against discharg-
ing fire-arms "in any street, lane, or alley, park,
or square of the said city," the trustees were obliged
to go first to the mayor and get a suspension of
the ordinance for this special purpose, which was
readily granted.
As soon as the two huntsmen saw this in black
and white, they fired half a dozen shots. But they
did not succeed in severing the string or smashing
the hoop. Like all failures, however, they gave
excellent reasons for their want of success, explain-
ing to the trustees that there was a difference


ROGERS.


[AUGUST,


between a covey of partridges and a small hoop
on the top of a steeple. Their explanation was
so lucid that I feel confident the trustees under-
stood it.
"In rifle-shooting," added one of the huntsmen,
"you always have to make allowance for the wind,
and we can't tell how it may be blowing at the top
of that spire till we learn by experimental shots.
But we shall get the range after a while; it 's only
a question of time."
What little ammunition they had with them was
soon exhausted, and Deacon Graham, who was
very excitable and oversensitive as to anything
connected with the church, rushed down town to
buy some more.
"How much powder will you have?" said the
clerk.
"Enough to shoot a kite off from a steeple," said
the Deacon.
The clerk could n't tell how much that would
take-had not been in the habit of selling powder
for that purpose.
Give me enough, then, at any rate," said the
Deacon.
The clerk suggested that the best way would be
to send up a small keg and let them use as much
as was necessary, the remainder to be returned.
To this the Deacon assented, and accordingly a
small keg of powder, with a liberal quantity of
bullets and caps, was sent up at once,-all to be
charged to the account of the church.
At the first shot, the boys had begun to gather.
When they found what was going on, that the
ordinance was suspended, and that ammunition
was as free as the gospel, they disappeared one
after another, and soon re-appeared, carrying all
sorts of shot-guns, muskets, and even horse-pistols
and revolvers. No boy who could get a fire-arm
failed to bring it out. Most of us had to hunt for
them; for, as far as I know, not one of our boys
was guilty of the folly of habitually carrying a pis-
tol in his pocket.
The powder and bullets were on the church
steps, where all who wished to aid in the good
work could help themselves; and within half an
hour from the time the ball opened, at least thirty
happy and animated boys were loading and firing.
The noise had attracted the townspeople, and
several hundred of them stood looking on at the
strange spectacle.
Patsy Rafferty ran home to draw some money
from his tea-pot bank, but found the cashier pres-
ent, and hesitated. However, he soon plucked up
courage, and said, with a roguish twinkle:
"Mother, will you please lend me two dollars of
my money ? "
Ordinarily, Mrs. Rafferty would have said no.






PHAETON ROGERS.


But she was a very bright woman, and was so
pleased with this evidence that Patsy had inherited
some of her own wit, that she could not find it in
her heart to refuse him.
There 's two dollars, and I suppose when you
bring it back it '11 be four," said she, remembering
how money breeds money.
"Yes-four o'clock," said Patsy, as he ran out of


POINTING THE ARROW UPWARD AT AN ANGLE, PHAETON DREW
IT TO THE HEAD." [SEE PAGE 760.]

the door and made for his friend the pawnbroker's,
who sold him an old musket, with which, in a few
minutes, Patsy joined the volunteers.
Ned Rogers had not been able to find any fire-
arm; but when he learned where Patsy got his
musket, and that the pawnbroker had a mate to
it, he ran off to his aunt's house at his best speed,
and, entering unceremoniously, exclaimed:


"Aunty, I want two dollars quicker than light-
ning! "
"Edmund Burton how you frighten me," said
his aunt Mercy. "Jane, get my pocket-book from
the right-hand corner of my top btreau-drawer,
and throw it down-stairs,"
The instant the pocket-book struck the floor,
Ned snatched two dollars out of it and was off like
a shot.
Sweet, benevolent boy! said Aunt Mercy.
"I 've no doubt he 's hastening to relieve some
peculiar and urgent case of distress among the poor
and sorrowful."
As it was rather late when Ned arrived at the
church with his weapon, he thought he 'd make up
for lost time. So he slipped in three bullets, instead
of one, with his first load, and in his excitement
rammed them so hard as almost to weld them
together.
The consequence was that, when he discharged
it, a large sliver was torn from the spire, and at the
same time he found himself rolling over into the
gutter,-a very "peculiar and urgent case of dis-
tress," indeed.
When Deacon Graham saw how fast the ammu-
nition was disappearing, while the desultory firing
produced no effect upon the kite, he thought some
better plan should be devised, and conceived of a
way in which, as he believed, concerted action
might accomplish the desired result. But when he
tried to explain it to the crowd, everybody was ex-
cited, and nobody paid the slightest attention to
him.
The spectators partook of the general excitement,
and applauded the boys.
"Epigrus via, generosissimi tormentarii! Peg
away, most noble gunners shouted Holman.
The Deacon, who had been growing more and
more excited, was now beside himself. In his
desperation, he sat down upon the keg of powder,
and declared that no more should be used till he
was listened to.
"I '11 tell you, Deacon," said one of the hunts-
men, "a chain-shot would be the thing to break
that string with."
"You shall have it," said the Deacon, and off
he posted down town again, to order chain-shot.
But the article was not to be had, and when he
returned, the kite still rode triumphant.
The trustees held a meeting on the steps of the
church. Now don't get excited," said Mr. Sim-
mons, the calmest of them; "the first shower will
bring down the kite. We 've only to go off about
our business, and leave it to nature."
I don't know about that," said Monkey Roe,
in a low tone, to one of the boys who had crowded
around to learn what the trustees would do. "The


888r.]


759






PHAETON ROGERS.


back of that kite is pretty thoroughly greased.
It '11 shed water like a duck, and nothing less than
a hail-storm can bring it down."
"How do you know that, young man?" said
Mr. Simmons, who overheard him.
"Why," said Monkey, seeing that he had
betrayed himself, "you see-the fact is-I--I-
saw a little bird try to 'light on the kite, but he
slipped off so quick I knew it must be greased."
"Humph!" said Mr. Simmons. "That 's a
likely story."
Brother Simmons," said Deacon Graham, we
can't wait for a storm,-there is no prospect of any.
If we don't dispose of this thing pretty soon, I 'm
afraid it 'll make us ridiculous."
Nobody was able to suggest any means of relief.
Perhaps a sailor could have climbed the lightning-
rod; but there was no sailor in town, and half-way
up the spire the rod was broken and a section was
missing. There seemed to be no way short of
building a scaffolding to the top of the steeple,
which would cost a good deal of money.
The pastor's son took Monkey Roe aside. "Your
prophecy has been nobly fulfilled," said he, and
you 've given us a tremendous piece of fun. Get
us up another as good as this."
The result of the deliberations of the trustees
was, that they resolved to offer a reward of twenty
dollars to any one who would get the kite off from
the steeple; and this was formally proclaimed to
the crowd by Deacon Graham.
Hardly had the proclamation been made, when
Phaeton Rogers, who had conceived a plan for get-
ting down the kite, and had been preparing the
necessary implements, appeared on the scene with
his equipment.
This consisted of a powerful hickory bow, about
as tall as himself, two heavy arrows, and a ball of
the best kite-string.
After measuring with his eye the height of the
steeple and the direction of the kite, Phaeton said
he must mount to the roof of the church.
Certainly, young man," said Deacon Graham;
"anything you want, and twenty dollars reward,
if you '11 get that thing down. Here, sexton, show
this young gentleman the way to the roof."
Phaeton passed in at the -door with the sexton,
and soon re-appeared on the roof. The crowd
seemed to watch him with considerable interest.
Standing on the ridge-pole, he strung his bow.
Then he unwound a large part of the ball of
string, and laid it out loosely on the roof; after
which he tied the end of it to one of the arrows.
A murmur of approbation ran through the crowd,
as they thought they saw his plan.
Pointing the arrow upward at a slight angle
from the perpendicular, and drawing it to the head,


he discharged it. The shaft ascended gracefully
on one side of the string of the kite, and descended
on the other side.
At sight of this, the crowd burst into applause,
supposing that the task was virtually accomplished.
It would have been easy enough now to take hold
of the two ends of the string that had been carried
by the arrow, and, by simply pulling, bring down
the kite. But this would not have taken off the
hoop from the top of the spire, and it would have
been necessary to break off the kite-string, leaving
more or less of it attached to the hoop, to float on
the breeze like a streamer till it rotted away. Pha-
eton intended to make a cleaner job than that.
When the arrow fell upon the ground, Ned, by
his brother's direction, picked it up and held it just
as it was. Phaeton threw down the ball of string
still unwound, and then descended to the ground.
He very quickly made a slip-knot on the end of the
string, passed the ball through it, and then, by
pulling carefully and steadily on the ball-end, made
the slip-knot slide up till it reached the string of
the kite. Before it was pulled up tight, he walked
out on the square in a direction to pull the slip-
knot as close as possible to the hoop.
This done, he placed himself, with the string in
his hand, on the spot where he supposed the one
who got up the kite must have stood while putting
the hoop over the point of the lightning-rod. That
is to say, he walked from the church in such a
direction, and to such a distance, that the string he
held in his hand formed a continuous and (but for
the sag) straight line with the string that held the
kite to the hoop.
He expected, on arriving at this point, to raise
his hand, give a jerk or two at the string, and see
the hoop slide up and off the rod, from the
tendency-caused by the kite's pulling at one end
of the string, and himself at the other-to take up
the sag.
His theory was perfect, but the plan did not
work; probably because the wind had died down a
little, and the kite was flying lower than when it
was first put up.
When he saw that the hoop was not to be lifted
by this means, he cast about for a further expedi-
ent, the crowd meanwhile expressing disappoint-
ment and impatience.
Carrying the string entirely across the square, he
stopped in front of the house that was in line with it,
and asked permission to ascend to the roof, which
was granted. Breaking off the string, and telling
Ned to stand there and hold the end, he put the ball
into his pocket, took a pebble in his hand, and
went up through the house and came out at the
scuttle.
Tying the pebble to the end of the string, he


760


[AUGUST,






PHAETON ROGERS.


threw it down to his brother, who tied the end of
the string to the end he had been holding. Phaeton
then drew it up, and once more pulled at the hoop.
It stuck a little at first; but as he alternately
pulled and slackened, it was started at last, and
began to slide up the lightning-rod; whereupon
the crowd set up a shout, and a great many people
remarked that they knew all the while the boy
would succeed.
But the hoop only rose to a point about half-way
between its former resting-place and the tip of the


*.., .


held close against it either by the tugging of the
kite one way, or your pulling the other."
I understand," said Ned. "I '11 do my best."
Phaeton then went back to the church, and
ascended'to the roof again with his bow and arrow
and the ball of string. Laying out the string as
before, and tying the end to the arrow, he shot it
over the kite-string so that the arrow fell upon the
roof.
Making a slip-knot as before, he pulled upon the
end of his string till the knot slid up to the kite-



.<- I


If I


PHAETON AND NED BECOME THE HEROES OF THE TOWN.


rod, and there it remained. No sleight-of-hand
that Phaeton could exercise would make it rise
another inch. If the wind had freshened, so as to
make the kite sail higher, the hoop would have slid
to the top of the rod at once. But the wind did
not freshen, and there was no taller building any-
where in line with the string than the one Phaeton
was standing on.
The crowd groaned, and remarked that they had
been confident all the while the boy could n't do it.
"Ned," said Phaeton, "come up here."
Ned went up.
"Now," said Phaeton, "stand right in this spot;
hold the string just as you see me holding it now;
and try to pull on it just hard enough to make the
hoop hang loosely around the rod instead of being


string at a point pretty near the hoop. He now
broke off the string, leaving it just long enough to
reach from the point where it was attached to the
kite-string straight to where he stood on the roof.
He tied the end to his arrow, and, drawing the
shaft to the head, shot it straight upward. As the
arrow left the bow, the crowd cheered again, for it
was evident that when the arrow, in its course,
should reach a point as far above the kite-string as
Phaeton was below it, it would begin to pull the
kite-string upward, and if it had force enough to
go a yard or two higher, it must, of course, pull
the hoop off from the rod.
But it lacked force enough. It rose till it had
almost straightened the string it was carrying, then
turned its head and dropped to the roof again.


761


l881.]


.<'_ __.






PHAETON ROGERS.


The crowd groaned, and some of them left for
their homes or their business, saying they knew all
the while that such foolery would n't work.
Phaeton sat down on the ridge-pole of the
church, put his head between his hands, and
thought. While he sat there, the crowd shouted
all sorts of advice to him, most of which was
intended to be sarcastic, though some spoke
seriously enough, as those who suggested that he
use a larger bow and a lighter string.
After some moments he got up, went to the
arrow, and detached it from the string; then,
taking the end of the string between his palms, he
rolled it and rolled it, until he had very greatly
hardened the twist.
If you have ever twisted a piece of common
string up tight, and then, taking the two ends
between your thumb and finger, let go of the
middle, you know what it does. It doubles and
twists itself together, in the effort to untwist.
When Phaeton had tightened the twist of his
string as much as he could, he tied the arrow on
again, laid it across his bow, pointed it at the
zenith, drew it to the head, and once more dis-
charged it.
While the arrow was climbing, the string-
wherever the slack folds of it hung near enough to
one another-was doubling and twisting together,
thus greatly shortening itself. The arrow had not
gone much more than half its former distance
above the kite-string when it arrived at the end of
its own now shortened string, and gave such a jerk
as pulled the hoop clear up from the end of the
lightning-rod.
When the crowd saw this, they burst into a tre-
mendous cheer, threw their caps into the air, and
bestowed all sorts of compliments upon Phaeton.
Phaeton took off his hat and made a low bow to
the people, and then disappeared through the little
door in the tower, by which he had gained access
to the roof. He soon re-appeared, emerging from
the front door, and ran across the square, to the
house where Ned still stood on the roof, like a
statue, or Casabianca waiting for his next orders.
Haul her in," said Phaeton, and Ned immedi-
ately began winding in the kite, using his left fore-
arm as a reel, and passing the string around his
elbow and through the notch between his thumb
and forefinger. He wound on everything as he
came to it-hoop, mottoes, even Phaeton's arrow.
Phaeton stood in the street before the house,
caught the kite by the tail as it approached the
ground, and soon had it secure. He broke off the
string, and Ned came down through the house.
An immense crowd surrounded them, and
impeded their progress as they started for home.
"Jump into my carriage; I'll take you home,"


said the driver of an open barouche, who had
stopped to see the performance, and like everybody
else was intensely interested in it.
Phaeton was instantly seized in the arms of three
or four men and lifted into the carriage. Then
Ned was lifted in the same way and seated beside
him. Then the kite was stood up on the front seat,
leaning against the driver's back, with its astonish-
ing motto staring the boys in the face. Lukey
Finnerty, who had been proudly holding Ned's
musket for him, handed it up, and it was placed
aslant of the seat between the two boys. The
bow, brought by the sexton, was placed beside it,
and the carriage then moved off, while a large
number of boys followed in its wake, three of them
being suspended from the hind axle by their hands,
while their feet were drawn up to swing clear of
the ground.
Why is he carrying away that kite ?" said Dea-
con Graham, asking the question in a general way,
as if he expected the crowd to answer it in con-
cert. "That belongs to the church."
"Sic nodus-not so," said Isaac Holman. "It
belongs to him; he made it."
"Ah, ha!" said the Deacon, looking as if he
had found a clew.
As the driver had recently procured his new and
handsome barouche, and was anxious to exhibit it,
he drove rather slowly and took a somewhat cir-
cuitous route. All the way along, people were
attracted to their windows. As the carriage was
passing through West street, Phaeton colored a
little when he saw three ladies standing on an upper
balcony, and lifted his hat with some trepidation
when the youngest of them bowed. The next
moment she threw a bouquet, which landed in the
carriage and was picked up and appropriated by
Ned.
"I am inclined to think," said Phaeton, "that
the bouquet was intended for me."
Was it ?" said Ned. "Then take it, of course.
I could buy me one just like it for a quarter, if I
cared for flowers. But, by the way, Fay, what are
you going to do with the twenty dollars -you've
won? That's considerable money."
I am going to put it to the best possible use
for money," said Phaeton.
I did n't know there was any one use better
than all others," said Ned. What is it ? "
"To pay a debt," said Phaeton.
"I never should have guessed that," said Ned;
"and I don't believe many people think so."
As they rode by Jack's Box, Jack, who stood in
the door, learned for the first time what Monkey
Roe had wanted the Scripture motto for.
They also passed Aunt Mercy's house, and their
aunt and Miss Pinkham were on the piazza. Ned


~


762


[AUGUST,






PHAETON


stood up in the carriage and swung his hat. Phae-
ton saluted his aunt more quietly.
What in the world are those boys doing in that
barouche ? said Aunt Mercy.
I don't know, but I '11 go and find out," said
Miss Pinkham, and she ran to the gate and got the
story from one of the Dublin boys.
Miss Pinkham returned and told the story.
Edmund Burton always was a smart boy," said
Aunt Mercy. "I could have predicted he would
be the one to get that kite off. He'd find a way
to scrape the spots off the sun, if they wanted him
to. But I don't see why that stupid brother of his
should be stuck up there to share his glory."
When it came to the question of paying the
reward, Deacon Graham stoutly opposed the pay-
ment on the ground that Phaeton himself had been
.concerned in putting the kite on the steeple-or, at
least, had furnished the kite. He said "no boy
could fool him,-it was too long since he was a boy
himself,"-which seemed to me a strange reason.
It looked for a while as if Phaeton would not get
the money; but the other trustees investigated the
matter, rejected the Deacon's theory, and paid the
reward.
On their complaint, Monkey Roe was brought
before 'Squire Moore, the Police Justice, to answer
for his roguery. The court-room was full, about
half the spectators being boys.
"What is your name ?" said the Justice.
I 'm not sure that I know," said Monkey.
"Not know your own name? How's that ?"
Because, my mother calls me Monty, my father
.calls me James, and the boys call me Monkey
Roe."
"I suppose the boys are more numerous than
your parents?" said the Justice.
"Much more," said Monkey.
And you probably answer more readily when
they call ?"
"I 'm afraid I do."
"Then," said the Justice, "we '11 consider the
weight of evidence to be in favor of the name
Monkey Roe, and I'1l enter it thus on the record."
As he wrote it down, he murmured: "We 've
.often had Richard Roe arraigned in this court, but
never Monkey."
"Now, Monkey, I 'm going to ask a question,
which you need not answer unless you choose to.
Did you, on Saturday night last, between the
hours of sunset and sunrise, raise, fly, and elevate
one six-cornered paper kite, bearing a motto or
sentiment from the sacred book called Leviticus,


-88.l1


(To be continued.)


ROGERS. 763


and tie, fix, anchor, attach, or fasten the same to
the lightning-rod that surmounts the spire, or
steeple, of the First Church,. of the sect or denomi-
nation known as Baptist, fronting and abutting on
Independence Square, in this city? "
"To the best of my knowledge and belief, I
did," said Monkey.
"Please state to the court, Monkey, your mo-
tives, if you had any, for this wicked act."
In answer to this, Monkey told briefly and
clearly the whole story, beginning where he "just
stopped half a second Sunday morning to see how
that boy's kite pulled." When he came to the
scene in the Sunday-school room, he gave it with
a dramatic effect that was calculated to excite sym-
pathy for himself.
'Squire Moore hac been as much interested as
anybody in the kite on the steeple, and had
laughed his enormous sides sore when he scanned
it and its appendages through Patsy's glass.
When Monkey had finished his story, the 'Squire
delivered the decision of the court.
"I have searched the Revised Statutes," said he,
"and have consulted the best authorities; but I
look in vain to find any statute which makes it a
penal offense to attach a kite to a steeple. The
common law is silent on the subject, and none of
the authorities mention any precedent. You have
succeeded, young man, in committing a misde-
meanor for which there is no penalty, and the
court is, therefore, obliged to discharge you, with
the admonition never to do so any more."
As Monkey left the bar, there was a rush for the
door, the boys getting out first. They collected in
a body in front of the building, and, when he
appeared, gave him three tremendous cheers, with
three others for 'Squire Moore.
But when Monkey came to face the domestic
tribunal over which his father presided, he found
that a lack of precedent was no bar to the adminis-
tration of justice in that court.
About a week later, a package, addressed to me,
and bearing the business-card of a well-known
tailor, was left at our door. When I opened it, I
found a new Sunday suit, to replace the one which
had been ruined when Phaeton wore it to the fire.
It must have taken about all of his reward-money
to pay for it.
For years afterward, the boys used to allude to
that season as "the summer we had two Fourth-
of-Julys." The scars on the steeple were never
healed, and you can see them now, if you chance
to pass that way.






MARK, THE DWARF.


MARK, THE DWARF.
(A Trte Story.)

BY M. D. BIRNEY.


HATTIE HELPED HERSELF TO

"AWAY down south, in Dixie," many years ago,
there lived a pretty golden-haired child, named
Hattie Sinclair. Her parents owned a large plan-
tation in Alabama, on which they lived, excepting
during the summer months, when, like many
Southerners, they sought northern climes, for health
and pleasure. Hattie was a merry, active little
girl, too fond of straying to be kept trace of by
her very stout and aged maumer "-as Southern
children called their old black nurses, whom they
loved almost as well as their own mammas. So
Mark, the son of "Maum Yetta," was detailed
for special service to his young mistress, and
accompanied her in all her rambles.
You would have smiled could you have seen


ONE OF THE FINEST APPLES."


them together, especially if you had been told that
Mark was taking care of Hattie, for his woolly
head reached only a few inches above her golden
curls, and at the table, when he waited on his
little mistress, her food seemed brought by magic.
But Mark, though so small, was nineteen years
old, and, aside from the defect in his height, was
not in any way deformed. He always accom-
panied the family in their summer trips, and, on
one occasion, when they were in a strange city,
and Hattie, under the protection of the dwarf, was
taking a promenade, they passed a large store, with
tempting arrays of choice fruits displayed outside.
Hattie was a dear lover of apples, and, too young
to comprehend that things in stores must be paid


764


[AUGUST,






MARK, THE DWARF.


for, she walked deliberately up to the stand, and,
helping herself to one of the finest, had already
bitten it, before the astonished Mark could say her
nay. The shopman smiled good-naturedly; but
Mark, with his best bow, explained: Oh, sir, it's
my little missus; she don't know no better, an' if
you please, sir, I '11 take her home, and come back
and pay you; we is a-stayin' to the Hotel."
"Never mind, my little fellow," said the man.
"Here, take a few of them as a present for your
pretty little lady. But it seems to me," he added,
looking curiously at Mark, "that you are rather
small to have the care of that child."
"Yes, sir," replied Mark, with dignity; "I is a
small person, but I 's nineteen years old," and,
thanking the shopman for his apples, he took
Hattie's hand and led her home.
Mark had another adventure, not quite so
pleasant, during his stay in that city. Tom Thumb
and his miniature coach and pair were daily on
exhibition, and one day, when Hattie and Mark
were walking through one of the gayest streets, the
little equipage, followed by a crowd, came by.
Mark drew the child up a flight of steps, to avoid
the crush, and they were thus made very con-
spicuous. As the little carriage passed, a man
who was walking at its side looked up, saw Hattie
and her companion, paused, hesitated, and finally
passed up the steps.
"How old are you, my little fellow?" said he,
addressing Mark.
"Nineteen, sir," replied Mark shortly, for he did
not like the stranger's appearance.
"Oh! Ah! Ahem! Where do you live?"
I 's stayin' at the Hotel, with my master,
sir."1
And what is his name ? continued the man,
at the same time offering the dwarf a silver quarter.
Mr. Sinclair. Thank you, sir, I don't want no
money; my master gives me enough, and, taking
Hattie by the hand, he waited for no more questions,
but walked quickly away.
That night, after Hattie was in bed, there came
a knock at Mr. Sinclair's parlor. Mark opened the
door, and beheld his acquaintance of the morning.
"Ah, my little man," said he, patronizingly, is
your master in ? "
Yes, sir," said Mark, as Mr. Sinclair laid down
his- newspaper and gazed wonderingly at the
stranger.
"Good evening, Mr. Sinclair. This is a smart
boy of yours, and my business this evening is about
him," said the stranger, with a grand flourish and
many obsequious bows.
Yes ?" said Mr. Sinclair, inquiringly.


"I should like to-that is-how much would you
take for him? said the man, with another bow.
You mean to ask me to sell him to you? said
Mr. Sinclair.
"Yes-ah! We are looking for a coachman for
General Tom Thumb, and this little fellow is such
a shapely dwarf that the agent has sent me to offer
you five hundred dollars -- "
Oh, master, is you gwine to sell me ?" cried
Mark, and he gazed beseechingly at Mr. Sinclair.
"Do not fear, Mark," said that gentleman, and
he patted his shoulder kindly; then, turning to the
showman's embassador, he said: "Tell your agent
that not for five times five hundred dollars would I
part with this little fellow." Soon after, the visitor
said "Good-evening," and Mr. Sinclair resumed
his reading, while Mark, with a greatly rejoiced
heart, opened the door for the agent.
Poor little Mark! This was his last trip, for,
on returning to the plantation, a contagious fever
broke out among the negroes. Hattie was sent to
her uncle's, and every means was tried to prevent
its spreading; but Mrs. Sinclair, a lovely and noble
woman, could not resist the appeal for Miss' to
come and see ef she can't cure me "-the faith of
those simple blacks being much stronger in their
Mistress' attentions than in those of any doctor.
So she staid, and every day carried some delicacy,
with her own hands, to the sick. Mark insisted
on following her, although she bade him not; and
one day the dread disease seized him, too, in its
fatal grasp. And what an unselfish spirit he
showed For, although longing unspeakably for
the tender ministrations of his beloved mistress, his
only cry was: Tell Miss' not to come nigh me,
'less she get sick, too."
The struggle was a short one, and when Mark
knew he was dying, the longing to have one more
look at his beloved mistress overcame him, and he
said, feebly:
Mammy, ask Miss' to come and stan' in de
door, and say good-bye; but don't let her come in."
I need hardly tell you that his call was quickly
responded to, and Mrs. Sinclair, placing herself by
the open door, the rays of the setting sun lighting
up her face, bade the brave and faithful little
dwarf a last farewell, he blessing her for all her
care and kindness.
He was the last victim, and with his death the
fever disappeared; but, although these events hap-
pened more than a score of years ago, the memory
of Mark is still green in the hearts of his master
and mistress, and children who never knew the little
dwarf have wept sympathetic tears over his brief
but unselfish life.


x88i.]


765





PROUD PRINCE CHAM.


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[AUGUST,


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VOL. VIII.-49.


X88.]


'C-'---


;-s
ii






CATHIE'S STORY.


CATHIE'S STORY.

BY ANNA BOYNTON AVERILL.


3- ATHIE BROWN'S Aunt Cathie, for
whom she was named, used often
to tell her that once, at least, in
Everybody's life, something hap-
s opened "just like a story."
i Cathie liked to believe this,
but one day she said, quite
cheerily: "Why, Auntie, I don't
J know; everything has been com-
monplace so long that it seems
good to me, like the old faces
and places."
"Ah, my dear," said Aunt Cathie, "that con-
tented heart of yours is a blessing; but something
will happen to you one of these days."

Cathie lived on a lonely country road. Her
father was a farmer, whom hard fortune had
followed for many a year. Three sons, older than
Cathie, were buried in the country burying-ground
beyond the hill. Farmer Brown and his wife were
getting on in years; and, although they had begun
at last to make head slowly against the current
of adversity that had set so long against them, the
habits of hard labor and the strictest economy
clung to them still. They owned their farm, and
Cathie was their only child; but beyond sending
her to school in summer and winter, and allowing
her the open space from the front door to the road
for a flower garden, they felt that they could afford
her no "privileges."
Her dresses were of the cheapest material, her
hair was always braided down her back in the
same simple fashion, her shoes were coarse and
thick, and she had no ribbons, no jewelry, no
trinkets of any kind. But Cathie did not care
much for such things. The desire of her heart
was to give. Oh, the dreams she used to dream
of the blessedness of giving A mine of money
would not have satisfied her longings to give and
give. She might not have been in every instance a
wise giver, if her dreams had come true; but she.
used to lie awake o' nights, and plan by the hour,
how, and where, and to whom she would give, if a
fortune should fall to her. And nobody should
ever know where the good gifts would come from.
That would be half the joy of it: to have her
bounty descend, shower-like, upon the poor and
needy, as if it came direct from heavenly places.
Her father and mother gave to the minister, they
visited the sick in the neighborhood, and fed the


tramps; but Cathie had never had a cent of
money to give away,-never in her whole life,-
nothing but flowers and berries, and willing little
services, and these seemed pitifully small in her
eyes. Oh, to give freely, royally, unreservedly
how happy she would be, if she could do that !
Aunt Catharine was a great comfort to her little
namesake. She was poor, like all of Cathie's
people, but she loved flowers and birds, and all
beautiful things, as warmly as did little Cathie her-
self; and she brought rare bulbs, and roots, and
seeds, and slips, and much homely cheer, to the
child.
Cathie's flower garden was sweet the summer
through. Indeed, from March to December, from
crocuses to frost-flowers, something bright and
beautiful beamed up at Cathie from the ground.
There was nothing like her flowers for miles around.
They were the pride and wonder of the neighbor-
hood. And among them Cathie toiled, when she
was not at school or helping her mother; for, all
this beauty was the result of much patient work
and faithful care.
Now, if I were only a boy," she said to Aunt
Cathie in one of their talks, I should coax Father
to let me raise a piece of wheat, or potatoes, and
sell them; and then I should have some money of
my own."
"What do you want with money, Cathie?"
asked her mother, who happened to hear her.
Cathie blushed, but did not answer immediately.
"Don't you have all you want to eat and to
wear, my daughter?"
"Yes, Mother, I don't want a thing for myself."
"Nor I, neither, dear. Let us not be getting
ambitious and discontented, because we are poor."
Aunt Cathie thought of some ambitious, discon-
tented daughters that she knew, and contrasted
them with little Cathie.
About this time, Cathie was cherishing one of
her dreams-too sweet ever to be realized, she
felt, but which did her good to keep it in hei
heart.
Oscar Gray, a lame boy who lived near, her
faithful friend, and a scholar of real promise, was
hungering for books and struggling manfully to
earn them. He was so proud that nobody dared
offer him aid, and so poor, that, at times, his
utmost efforts seemed hopeless to those who did not
realize the unconquerable energy that was in him.
He had fallen into a way of confiding his pet hopes


[AUGusT,


770








i85'.] CATHIE'S STORY.


and dreams to his little neighbor, partly because
he knew that she was as poor as himself, and by no
possibility could help him, and partly because he
knew that a secret with her was safe. Then, too,
she was such an intelligent, warm-hearted little
soul, that it comforted him much to talk with her.
He was now pursuing a certain line of study in
natural history, and had come to "a dead-lock,"
as he expressed it to Cathie, for want of ten dol-
lars' worth of books. Now, if she could only bestow
those books upon Oscar, in such a way that he
would never guess who gave them, how happy she
would be! She could not help planning, and
brooding over it, although in her sober common-
sense moments," as she called them, she had no
hope of ever bringing it about.
If I were only a boy she would think to her-
self, as she weeded and spaded and fluttered about
among her lovely flowers. Now, I have worked
as hard for you, dear flowers, as a boy works in
his wheat-patch, but you are only sweet and beau-
tiful; you do not 'pay.'" And then she would
smile at her mercenary thoughts. As the summer
deepened, the garden grew in beauty hour by
hour, until it seemed as if every twig and stalk
bore all the bloom and sweetness it could hold, and
the bees and humming-birds held high carnival
there every day.
One day, just after the noon meal, Cathie was
washing dishes in the back kitchen, farthest from
the road, when, all at once, a great commotion
seemed to fill the air about her. She felt a heavy
rumbling jar that shook the house; hoarse bellow-
ings, wild shouts, and the barking of dogs mingled
in the thundering din that was rolling nearer as she
listened. She ran through to the front door with her
towel in her hand, and saw, in a great dust-cloud,
a drove of at least a hundred cattle tearing along
down the road. She ran for her father, but he had
gone to the field. Her flower-plot sloped from the
door to the road, unfenced. Nearly every week,
large droves of cattle went past from up-country
down to the distant market, and the drovers always
stationed boys and dogs ahead at the unprotected
places, while the herds marched by. But a panic
had seized upon this drove, and, before help could
arrive, the frantic animals had surrounded the
house, trampled every green thing into the dust,
and rushed on and away like an avalanche.
Cathie stood among the ruins with a face of de-
spair; and her mother was standing behind her
speechless with dismay, when the owner of the
drove came rattling up in his wagon. The cattle
were at that moment careering over a distant hill,
the drovers still far behind them; but he leaped
from his cart and came up to Cathie.
"Why, little girl, if this is n't a pity !" he ex-


claimed, in a voice of such compassion and sympa-
thy that Cathie hid her face in the dish-towel and
sobbed aloud.
Now, don't cry, dear !" he begged. "I saw,
when I went up the other day, what a pretty sight
your posies were; and here I've been the means of
spoilin' em. Money can't replace 'em this year,
but there 's ten dollars, and I 'm mighty sorry,
besides." And he placed a bill in her hand.
"Oh, no, no sobbed Cathie. "You couldn't
help it; nobody was to blame." And she held out
the money. But he was mounting his wagon and
wiping the moisture from his tired face, with his
eyes on the distant cloud of dust.
You keep that money, little girl. It's small
recompense," he said, shaking his head emphat-
ically; and he was off and away before she could
speak again.
Cathie dried her eyes, and looked at the bill in
astonishment.
Oh, Mother she cried suddenly. May I do
just what I want to with this ? "
"Why, yes, dear," said her mother: "why
should n't you? And don't feel badly about the
flowers; they '11 grow again."
But, Mother, are you sure that you are willing
for me to-to-give this away ? "
"Give it away? Well, it's your own money,
Cathie. I am sure your father will be willing for
you to do what you choose with the first money
you ever had. And you have worked hard for your
flowers, Cathie; we all know that."
And, Mother,"-Cathie kept on eagerly,-" I
shall want you and Father to promise that you will
never tell anybody that I got this money." Her
cheeks were bright, her eyes glowing. She had
forgotten her flowers.
"We will do whatever you wish, my daughter,
about this money. It is right that we should.
But, sometime, you '11 tell Mother about it? "
I will tell you this very minute, Mother!"
And she did.
So much toward the realization of her dream!
And now new difficulties arose. She dared not
buy the books, for Oscar knew that she alone was
aware of his need. She could think of no way of
sending the money to him that would not cause him
to think she had begged for him, or made his
wants known. He might burn it in pride and
shame if he could not find the giver. She thought
of catching one of his tame doves and tying the
money under its wing; but he would know then
that it was sent as a gift to him. Cathie was
puzzled, but she kept on planning, and at last she
decided that there was but one way. She must
manage so that he would seem to find the money.
There were difficulties connected with this


771


CATHIE'S STORY.


i88i.]






CATHIE'S STORY.


method, also, which she did not foresee; but she
laid her plans carefully and carried them out.
One day, when she saw him coming up the road,
and knew that he was going to the library in the
village beyond, she ran swiftly out at the opposite
side of the house, through the orchard, and down
into the hollow, a quarter of a mile beyond. Here
was a little evergreen thicket, with a brush fence
on the edge of the road. She placed the bill in
the hard, beaten track in full view, scrambled back
over the fence, took up a good position in the thick
cedars where she could see through the fence, and
awaited his coming with an anxious heart. What
if somebody else should come along and discover
the money before him ?
When, at last, he came limping into the hollow
on his crutch, her heart was beating so hard that
she felt as if it could be heard.
He saw the money,-few things escaped his
sight,-stopped and picked it up, and stood looking
at it for some time, with his back to Cathie. Then
he put it in his pocket and started back toward
home. This was a surprise to her, and she knew
that he would call at the house to tell her what he
had found. What could she do? She could not
follow immediately without being seen. The only
way was to wait until he had gone into the house,
and then run back the way she had come as fast as
she could.
She entered as demurely as was possible under
the circumstances.
Her hair was roughened, her dress torn, and her
eyes were shining with suppressed excitement, to be
sure; but she bore herself with remarkable calm-
ness, as her mother afterward assured her.
Oscar came forward eagerly from talking with
her mother.
See, Cathie," he said, I have found ten dol-
lars "
"Oh, I am so glad! she cried, clasping her
hands.
But I must find the owner, Cathie," he
answered gravely, looking at her almost reproach-
fully, she thought.
Oh, you never will, I know, Oscar. It is
yours-yours to keep and-and buy books with, or
whatever you wish."
Mrs. Brown was trembling at Cathie's eagerness,
but she dared not say an encouraging word to
Oscar, for conscience' sake. She saw more clearly
than charity-blind Cathie how Oscar was looking
at the matter.
The boy grew graver and graver as he looked
at his little friend. He could not understand the
change in her.
I shall find the owner, Cathie," was all he said,
as he went away.


"Oh, Mother, he will keep it perhaps until he
dies, if he does n't find the owner. What shall we
do ?" cried Cathie. And the mother could not
think of anything to do that seemed likely to set
matters straight.

A whole long month had passed away-it had
seemed a year to Cathie-and still Oscar was push-
ing his efforts to find the owner of the lost money.
He hlad become convinced that no one in the vil-
lage, nor in the neighborhood where he lived, had
lost it.
At last, he said one day to Cathie:
"It might have been that cattle-buyer, Cathie;
who knows? He handles a pile of money in a
year. I shall ask him, when he goes up again."
Cathie's cheek blanched, and she caught her
breath to keep from speaking wrong; for she saw
by this time how it would have seemed to her to
find ten dollars, and use it without searching for
the loser. The tears came into her eyes, and her
courage sank.
If he did not lose it, shall you keep it until
you die, and never use it?" she asked, her voice
trembling.
"Oh, Cathie!" said Oscar, almost breaking
down. Don't care so much about it. You are
so anxious for me to have the books, you -you
can't see it quite right, Cathie."
Cathie went home with a breaking heart.
On his next trip, the drover was accosted by the
boy,:
Did you lose any money, sir, the last time you
went down ?"
"No, my boy," said the kindly, talkative drover,
"none excepting what I paid for damages. I paid
the little girl up yonder ten dollars for spoilin' her
pretty flower garden. That was a hard one for
the poor child. I wonder how she feels about it ?"
She has tried to mend it up some," said Oscar
in a'daze. "I-I found bill. I thought perhaps
you dropped it."
No, I 've lost none," said the man, driving
away.
Oscar's mind was swift and keen. The first
thought that had flashed through it was, How
strange that Cathie did not tell me about the
money!" For he knew the sum would have
seemed a little fortune to her. The next instant, he
saw it all. Her eagerness to have him use this
money, her flushed appearance the day he found
it, the look on her face when he mentioned the
drover as the one who might have lost it, and her
grief when he had reproved her for her generous
earnestness. He bowed his head, and the hot
tears fell from his eyes as it all came over him.
He put himself in her place, and saw that he must


772


[AUGUST,






FLAT-BOATING FOR BOYS.


not spoil the delicate sacrifice she had striven so
hard to offer unblemished.
It was not the drover who lost it, Cathie," he
said, quite calmly, the next day. "I have given up
trying any further. I shall get my books, and
when I am a man" -his voice shook a little-
" who knows but I may find the loser and let him
know how much good the money did me ? "
Cathie's eyes shone like stars. She clasped her
hands as she had done when he found the money.


Oh, Oscar how glad I am was all she said.
He bought the precious books and reverenced
them tenfold, for Cathie's sake.
The lame scholar had become an eminent natu-
ralist, and Cathie had been his wife a year, be-
fore he told her the secret he had kept sacred
so long.
And Cathie tells her own little daughter to-day
that once, at least, in everybody's life something
happens "just like a story."


FLAT-BOATING FOR BOYS.

BY DANIEL C. BEARD.


S -





; e -"
- :-- :?; .


I-
J


A LAST SUMMER'S HOUSE.


FLAT-BOATS are essentially inland craft, having
their origin with the birth of trade in the West
before the puffing and panting steam-boats plowed
their way through the turbid waters of Western
rivers. They are craft that can be used on any
stream large enough to float a yawl, but the St.
John's River, Florida, is,. perhaps, the most tempt-
ing stream for the amateur flat-boatman. The
numerous inlets and lakes connected with the
river, the luxuriant semi-tropical foliage on the
banks, the strange-looking fish and great, stupid


alligators, the beautiful white herons, and hundreds
of water-fowl of many descriptions,-all form feat-
ures that add interest to its navigation, and in-
ducements to hunters, fishermen, naturalists, and
pleasure-seekers scarcely equaled by any other
accessible river of the United States.
To build the hull of the flat-boat, use good pine
lumber. For the sides, select two good, straight
two-inch planks, fourteen feet long and about six-
teen inches wide. Take one of the planks (Figure
No. i), measure six inches from the top upon each


773


r88i.]






FLAT-BOATING FOR BOYS.


end, and mark the points (A a, Figure No. i); then
upon the bottom measure from each end toward
the center two feet, and mark the points (B b,


f4 f


At




DIAGRAMS OF THE HULL.
Figure No. i). With your carpenters' lead-pencil,
connect the points A B and a b by a slight but
regular curve; saw off the corners along the line
regular curve; saw off the comters along the line


there will be a space inside the boat of five feet
eight inches. Take three pieces of scantling,
about three inches square and five feet eight inches
long; place one near each end, flush with the bot-
tom of the boat, just where the sheer of bow and
stern begins. (See Figure No. 2, A and B.) After
fitting them carefully, nail them firmly. Take the
other piece of -. :i:,rin. and nail it in place at the
point C (Figure No. 2), so that it will measure six
feet from the outside of the brace at A to the out-
side of the brace at C.
For the bottom-boards, pick out good, straight
half-inch lumber, a little over fourteen feet long, to
allow for the curve. Take one of the bottom-
boards and nail an end to the stern-board (see
Figure No. 3 ); its side edge must be flush with
the outer face of the side-piece. Bend the board


\n/


FIGURE NO. 4.-SIDE VIEW OF i-. E WITH CABIN.


FIGURE NO. 5.-FRONT END VIEW
OF FLAT-BOAT, WITH CABIN.


carefully along the curve
to the first cross-piece A,
and nail it firmly; nail it
again at C, and at the bow.
Follow the same plan with
S ] the next board, being care-
ful to keep it close up
---- against the first board, so
as to leave no crack when
the bottom is finished.
FIGURE NO. 6.-TOP VIEW OF FLAT-BOAT, WITH CABIN. Caulk up any accidental
crack with oakum; give
thus made. Make the other side of your hull an the whole a coating of coal-tar, and let it dry.
exact duplicate of this. The remainder of the work is comparatively
Then take two two-inch planks, six inches wide easy. After the coal-tar has dried, turn the boat
and six feet long, for the stem and stern; set the over, and erect four posts, one at each end of the
side-pieces on edge, upside down, and nail on the cross-piece A, and one at each end of the cross-
two end-pieces. (See Figure No. 2.) Then, allow- piece C (Figures Nos. 2 and 3). The tops of the
ing four inches, the thickness of the two sides, posts should be about five feet above the bottom of


774


[AUGUST,






i88i.] FLAT-BOATING FOR BOYS. 775


-a book-shelf, a few
clothes-hooks, etc.
Put in oar-locks, each
made of a board with a
deep notch cut in it;
there should be three
oar-locks-one for the
steering oar and two in
front for rowing (see Fig-
ure No. 4). Set a seat
in front of the oar-locks,
S-with a hole for a jack-
4 staff to pass through.
The jack-staff must be
made so that it can be
taken out or put in at
pleasure, by having a
simple socket underneath
the seat, for the foot of
the staff to fit in. When
this is done, your boat
Z is ready for use. Figure
No. 4 shows a side view
Sof a fourteen-feet flat-
boat, with a cabin five

FIGURE NO. 7.-INTERIOR
OF CABIN.

the hull. Put a cross-
piece on top of the post ---
A, and another at C,
and the frame-work of '
your cabin is done. i
Make the roof of thin iti' J' i
plank, bending it in i
an arch, so that the illL '
middle will rise about
one foot higher than I I
the sides. The eaves 1i
should overhang about .
six inches beyond the i '
cabin, upon each side.
Board up the sides ,
with material like that
used for the roof, leav- ,
ing openings for win- 0
dows and doors. Pieces
of leather make very '
good hinges for the
door, if there is no I, )
hardware store handy, I
where iron hinges can
be procured. The cab- ~ [ -.
in can then be floored,
a bunk or two may WHO KNOCKS
be built, and as many other conveniences as your feet high at the sides and six feet at the middle.
taste or necessities may indicate may be provided, Figure No. 5 shows a front view of the same.






FLAT-BOATING FOR BOYS.


Figure No. 6 shows a top view of the flat-boat
as it would appear looking down upon the roof
of the cabin.
The large diagram, Figure No. 7, drawn in
perspective, shows the interior of a plain cabin,
with a floor six feet square, walls five feet high,
and six feet between the floor and the ridge-pole,
at the middle of the roof. The walls need not be
more than four feet high, giving five feet between
floor and ridge-pole.
A cabin six feet high may be fitted up with four
folding berths, which are boards two feet wide,
fastened to the wall by strong iron or leather


occupy the cabin, and whether it is to be used
by a party of young naturalists upon a collecting
tour, or for fishing and shooting excursions, or simply
as a sort of picnic boat for a few days' enjoyment,
such as most boys in the country are quite well
able to plan and carry out unaided.
The picture entitled "Who Knocks ? shows the
interior of the cabin of a boat in which the only
occupant is the dog left to guard the premises
while the flat-boatmen are ashore.
Although this rude home-made flat-boat does not
possess speed, yet, with a square sail rigged oh the
jack-staff, and with a good wind over the stern, it


FLAT-BOATING IN FLORIDA. [SEE PAGE 778.]


hinges, so that they can be let down. The top
flap is supported by straps, and the bottom one
by folding legs. The diagram shows two berths
down upon the left-hand side, and two folded up
at the right-hand side. The lockers set under the
bottom berths can be used for stowing away bed-
clothing.
I shall not describe the construction of the inte-
rior of the cabin, my aim being only to suggest how
it may be done, as every boy who is smart enough
to build a flat-boat will have his own peculiar ideas
about the manner in which it should be fitted up
inside. The interior construction depends, in a
measure, upon the number of persons who are to


can get through the water pretty well; and as this
sort of craft draws only a few inches of water, it can
float in creeks and inlets where a well-loaded row-
boat would drag bottom.
The cost of time and expense in building the
flat-boat, under favorable conditions, amounts to
little; but should you, upon calculation, find the
expense too great, or your time limited, you can,
with little work and no expense, build a substitute,
which we shall christen the Crusoe raft."
SAll that is necessary for the construction of this
craft is an ax, an auger, and a hatchet, with some
good stout boys to wield them.
For a large raft, collect six or seven logs, not


776


[AUGUST,






FLAT-BOATING FOR BOYS.


777


more than ten inches in diameter; they must be fire-place, and if the cabin is floored with cross-
tolerably straight and of nearly the same size. sticks, and all the cracks are stopped up to prevent
Pick out the longest and biggest for the center; the water splashing through, and if a lot of hay is


THE "MAAN-FRIDAY" CATAMARAN.


sharpen one end; roll the log into the water, and
there secure it. Pick out two logs as nearly alike
as possible, to lie one at each side of the center-
log. Measure the center-log, and make the point
of each side-log, not at its own center, but at that
side of it which will lie against the :i"J..1"1.--1...;. so
that this side-point shall reach to where the point-
ing of the middle-log begins. (See Figure No. 8.)
After all the logs needed have been trimmed and
made ready to be fitted, roll them into the water
and arrange them in order. Fasten them together
by cross-strips, boring holes through the strips to
correspond with holes bored into the logs lying
beneath, and through these holes driving wooden
pegs. The water will cause the pegs to swell, and
they will hold much more firmly than iron nails.
The skeleton of the cabin is made of saplings;
such as are used for hoop-poles are the best.
These are bent in an arch, and the ends are thrust
into holes bored for the purpose. (See Figure No.
9.) Over this hooping a piece of canvas is
stretched, after the manner of the tops of old-fash-
ioned country wagons.
Erect a jack-staff, to be used for a square sail or
a flag, and with the addition of some sticks, whit-
tled off at the ends, for oar-locks, your "Crusoe
raft" is complete. (See Figure No. to.)
For oars, use sweeps-long poles, each with a
piece of board for a blade fastened to one end.
A hole must be bored through the pole, about
three feet from the handle, to slip over the peg
used as oar-lock; this peg should be high enough
to allow you to stand while using the sweeps.
A flat stone placed at the bow will serve for a


piled in, you will have a most comfortable bed at
night.
The "Crusoe raft" has one great advantage
over all boats. You can take a long trip down a
river on it, allowing the current to bear you along;
then, after your trip is finished, you can abandon
the raft and return by steam-boat or cars.
I remember visiting a lake at the head-water of
the Miami. High and precipitous cliffs surrounded
the little body of water. So steep were the great,
weather-beaten rocks that it was only where the
stream came tumbling down, past an old mill, that
an accessible path could be found. Down that
path I climbed, accompanied by my cousin; for we
knew that bass lurked in the deep, black holes
among the rocks. We had no jointed rods nor












FIGURE NO. 8.-FLOAT OF "CRUSOE RAFT."

fancy tackle; but the fish there are not particular,
and seldom hesitate to bite at a bait suspended by
a coarse line from a freshly cut hickory sapling.
Even now, I feel the thrill of excitement and
expectancy as, in imagination, my pole is bent


s881.]


- / ,- ...






FLAT-BOATING FOR BOYS.


nearly double by the frantic struggles of those
" gamy" black bass. After spending the morning
fishing, we built a fire upon a short stretch ot
sandy beach, and, cleaning our fish, washing them


To hold them securely, we bored holes down through
the sapling cross-pieces into the logs; then, with the
hatchet, we hammered wooden pegs into these holes.
For the seat, we used the half of a section of log,


FIGURE NO. 9.-"CRUSOE RAFT," WITH SKELETON CABIN. FIGURE NO. IO.-- CRUSOE RAFT," COMPLETE.


in the spring close at hand, we put them among
the embers to cook.
While the fire was getting our dinner ready for
us, we threw off our clothes and plunged into the
cool waters of the lake. Inexpert swimmers as
we were at that time, the opposite shore, though
apparently only a stone's-throw distant, was too far
off for us to reach by swimming. Many a longing
and curious glance we cast toward it, however, and
strong was the temptation that beset us to try the
unknown depths intervening. A pair of brown ears
appeared above the ferns near the water's edge, and
a fox peeped at us; squirrels ran about the fallen
trunks of trees or scampered up the rocks, as
saucily as though they understood that we could
not swim well enough to reach their side of the
lake; and high up the face of the cliff was a
dark spot, which we almost knew was the entrance
to some mysterious cavern.
How we longed for a boat! But not even a raft
nor a dug-out could be seen anywhere upon the
glassy surface of the water, or along its reedy bor-
der. We nevertheless determined to explore the
lake next day, even if we should have to paddle
astride of a log.
The first rays of the morning sun had not
reached the dark waters before my companion and
I were hard at work, with ax and hatchet, chopping
in two a long log we had discovered near the mill.
We had at first intended to build a raft; but grad-
ually we evolved a sort of catamaran. The two
pieces of log we sharpened at the ends for the bow;
then we rolled the logs down upon the beach, and,
while I went into the thicket to chop down some
saplings, my companion borrowed an auger. We
next placed the logs about three feet apart, and,
marking the points where we intended to put the
cross-pieces, we cut notches there; then we placed
the saplings across, fitting them into these notches.


the flat side fitting into places cut for that purpose.
All that remained to be dbne now was to make a
seat in the stern, and a pair of oar-locks. At a
proper distance from the oarsman's seat we bored
two holes, for a couple of forked sticks, which
answered admirably for oar-locks; across the stern
we fastened another piece of log, similar to that
used for the oarsman's seat. With the help of a
man from the mill, our craft was launched; and
then, with a pair of oars made of old pine board,
we rowed off, leaving the miller waving his hat.
Our catamaran was not so light as a row-boat,
but it floated, and we could propel it with the
oars, and, best of all, it was our own invention and
made with our own hands. We called it a "Man-
friday," and by means of it we explored every
nook in the length and breadth of the lake; and,
ever afterward, when we wanted a boat, we knew a
simple and inexpensive way to make one,-and a
safe one, too.
The picture on page 776 shows how, some years
ago, a certain flat-boating party enjoyed a "tie-up"
one day, on the St. John's River, Florida. The boat
was named The Ark," and among its comforts
were a tiny cook-stove and four glass windows.
In those days, no band of flatters was much
thought of that failed to slay an alligator in the
first day or two, and it was in deference to this pub-
lic opinion that The Ark bore at each side of
its cabin one of these reptiles as a trophy.
During the cruise, the members of the party had
frequent occasion to put into practice all manner of
devices for saving labor, and making the hunter as
far as practicable independent of a mate when, as
often happened, two men could not be spared to
go foraging together. One of these "wrinkles,"
as they were termed, was a floating fish-car, which,
being attached to the fisher's waist, floated behind
him as he waded, netting. This arrangement not


778


[AUGUST,






"A BOY ON THE PLACE."


"A BOY ON THE PLACE."

BY HELENE J. HICKS.


S,. -ir HAT does ail Debby and
''.-. Towzer?"
"Did you speak, Jane?"
S "Yes; I said, 'What ails
I' Debby and Towzer?' Deb-
by's been goin' on for some
-" ri ine down there in the garden,
i .nd Towzer is barkin' in the
d ,itractedest way around the
r,' y-stack down yonder in the
adow. I can't make out either
Debby or Towzer; can you, Susan?"
Susan, the youngest of the three Bently sisters,-
who owned to her fifty years,-thus appealed to,
came out from the roomy pantry, with her cap-
borders flying, and her floury hands dripping tiny
white flakes over Jane's clean kitchen, and upon
the shining floor of the porch which overlooked
both hill-side garden and meadow.
A merry, contagious laugh from Susan's lips,
quickly echoed by Jane, caused Debby to halt a
monument in her frantic chase after some intruder,
not visible to the two upon the porch.
"It does-beat-all!" gasped Debby, as she
paused; and then came an indistinct sentence,
which the others failed to catch, and the dumpy
figure hastened on again, at the same time throw-
ing stones, sticks, clam-shells, and tufts of grass, at
the object of her pursuit.
"I do think, Susan, we ought to go down and
help Debby; there 's no tellin' what it may be."
If only Debby would consent to having a boy
on the place He 'd be so handy with her in the
garden."
Susan, the little woman, with tender voice, must
certainly have had great loveliness in early youth,
for traces of a sunny beauty lay still upon the
good, fair face-in fact, gleams of a fair and beau-
tiful youth were seen also upon the other two
faces, but more clearly upon Susan's.
'Deed yes, Suse; that is what I tell Debby every
summer. But you know what she says, it would
make too much extra sewing for my old fingers,
and more work for you in the baking and cooking,
and, like 's not, only hinder her in the garden after
all; and then she says, too, 'Where on earth is
the boy to come from?' Debby always winds up
with that, you know. There 's some sense in that
last, Susan, and that's all the sense I see."
"There is n't a mite in it, Jane, not a grain.
Why, there 's plenty of boys, and good ones, too,


only Debby 's so sure of bein' taken in by them.
Now, I don't know much about boys in general,
but I believe they're human, and like most other
creatures; if you 're good and tender with them,
Jane, the bad will come out. I calc'late it is n't
in the Bentlys to abuse anything; and so I think
'most any boy would do."
Tender-hearted little Susan had reached the
garden gate at the conclusion of this speech, and
she was about to open it, when a cry from Debby
caused her to start back, and falling against Jane,
knock that worthy woman quite off her feet.
"Don't come in yet, Susan, for goodness' sake !
These three hens have tuckered the life almost out
of me.-There goes one over the fence! Stand
back, Jane. Thank goodness There goes another.
Shoo Bend down, Susan; your head 's in the
way, and this is the meanest hen of the three.
Shoo! She sees your head bobbin' up, Susan.
Mind There now,-shoo! There she goes;
that 's the last. Thank goodness! I 'm 'most
tuckered out." Debby sat right down upon one
of the beds without ceremony, fanning with her
bonnet the round, red face, and moist brow.
Susan and Jane, both convulsed' with laughter,
entered the garden, closing the gate carefully.
"It does beat all, now," said Jane with pity for
Debby, who was sitting there forlorn and exhaust-
ed. The hens bother you uncommon, Debby; if
you would only consent to let me and Susan help
here a bit."
Help? As though you and Susan did n't have
your hands full."
"I say, Debby, do let us have a boy on the
place."
"Susan, Susan, you child! You don't know
what you 're talking' about; I don't want a boy in
my garden; and a better reason, where 's the boy
to come from, I 'd like to know? Yes, I 'd like to
know, Susan! If Providence should send one right
down here under my nose,-so to speak,-why,
I 'd take him; but Providence don't trouble about
such small matters, I reckon. It would seem silly."
"Oh, Debby! don't say that; but you don't
mean it, that 's one consolation," said gentle,
motherly Susan, seeing the broad smile upon
Debby's face.
"Now then," said brisk, energetic Debby, ris-
ing, "since the hens are out of the garden, and I
can breathe again, I want to know what ails Tow-
zer ? I did n't have time to think before."


780


[AUGUST,






"A BOY ON THE PLACE."


Sure enough! What did ail Towzer? The lazy
old dog was barking, howling, and chasing around
the hay-stack down in the meadow in a frantic
and unbecoming manner, very unlike his usually
quiet and dignified conduct.
"It 's a rat, as likely as not," said Jane, turning
homeward.
"Wait, Jane; listen! It was Susan who spoke,
hurriedly and low.
That is n't a rat, nor a hen cacklin' neither; it
sounds like a cry," said Debby, looking sternly at
the hay-stack.
It is a cry, girls Come, Towzer is tormentin'
something there, as sure as you live."
Susan ran as nimbly as a young girl down the
side-hill and across the road, and had reached the
bars and entered the meadow before the two elder
ones had come to the road.
Towzer, stop Here, Towzer called Susan,
and Towzer yelped and barked louder than ever,
while the cry of a human voice came more distinctly
at every step.
"What can it be?" cried Susan, breaking into a
run as she neared the stack. Towzer, barking
excitedly, met her, leading her quite around to
the other side, where the object of
S- his annoyance was
I,-- l.,,d, crouched
r- -Nr. f' ^ r- -


7 1i. l stack, al-
.t' -. L -P. most hid-
-, .. den from
S' sight.
DEBBY STARTED BACK, FALLING AGAINST JANE", Lordpity
us all!" cried Susan,-who never said that, except-
ing under extraordinary circumstances,-and then
the tears quite ran over from her loving brown eyes,
and dropped down, one by one, upon Towzer's head.


A child, under the hay-stack How on earth
did it come here, and when ?"
Susan, in her pity and bewilderment, never
thought of questioning the child, therefore she only
stared, while Towzer, seemingly quite content with
having accomplished his object,-that of bringing
the family down to the meadow,-sat down and
panted, overcome with his exertions, as Debby had
been after chasing the hens.
"A child!" cried Jane, looking over Susan's
shoulder, in a helpless, befogged way.
"A boy ejaculated Debby, aghast.
Susan, mopping away the tears from her face,
recovered tone and spirits in a flash. For a bright
idea, such a brilliant idea, had come to Susan.
"There's something queer about this, Debby;
there 's a Providence in this, mind it. Come, boy,
come right out now, we 're friends."
Debby stared, and Jane laughed nervously,
while Susan assisted the big-eyed, famished-looking
boy to his feet.
"Your dog!" he gasped, crouching close to
Susan's side.
"Bless you Towzer would n't hurt a fly," said
Susan, to assure the frightened child.
He took my breakfast." The great, hungry
eyes looked, up to Susan, who said beneath her
breath, "Lord pity us all!"
'Towzer, you thief! said Jane, harshly, and
with a desire to conciliate the boy. "What did
..ii i. ..:,cfast consist of, poor boy?"
T I.. finished lad made no reply to this
..ti.: :l.. ..f Jane's, but the brown, hungry eyes
raised appealingly to Susan, and
i.,..:d a moment upon Towzer, before
-i !ir.-, closed, and the long black lashes
S -. 1:, thick and dark upon the white,
sunken cheeks.
*- i "Lord pity us all! He 's
../- fainted dead away!" cried Su-
'- 'san, as she gathered the frail
S,, boy in her strong, motherly
-ij-F a arms; and, without a word to
astonished Debby and Jane, she
strode like a determined gen-
.:i! .'-,h- tie meadow, with Towzer quietly at
I.!-r I-ch. .ip t.he hill, over the cool porch, through
if ,.:': ..,-i, lo.chen, dropping bits of hay at in-
tervals, on through the darkened sitting-room, to
the quiet little bedroom beyond, and deposited
her burden upon the white bed. Then she ran-
yes, really ran-to the kitchen closet, and returned
-as Debby laughingly told the story years after-
with not only the camphor and brandy bottles, but
also the salt and pepper, together with the salera-
tus and mustard cups, just as Debby and Jane
entered in amazed silence.


188r.]


781






"A BOY ON THE PLACE."


She has taken him to the sitting-room bed-
room! said Jane, surprised beyond measure, at
the same time conceiving a great admiration for
this little Su-
,/,v' san, who could
.i a, t1!,,hk
... ..... ", .." '-, : .._ i-".: il -.r i,,,


TOWZER INVESTIGATES THE HAY-STACK.


Jane, and such a comfortable spot; when I had
fever 'n' ager, why, I quite enjoyed lyin' here,"
apologized Susan, as she was about to deluge the
wan-faced boy with camphor and brandy, which
Debby, with a strong hand, prevented just in time.
Debby, you see, had reached a conclusion or two,
and she was now ready to act with the foremost,
as she always was after once deciding.
He's coming' to, Susan; never mind all that
stuff you 've brought in here from the closet. This
boy is starved out, that 's all; he does n't want
your camphire, and mustard, nor salt, neither, but
you just weaken a bit of the brandy, and Jane, you
be quick and see if that broth I smell is n't most
done, or boiled itself to death, and bring a bowlful
in here; take one of the blue bowls, Jane, they've


got i comfortable, healthy sort of look, owin' to
their amazin' size. There now, Sonny,' swallow
this weak brandy."
Susan was bending down over the white face,
smoothing the brown hair, and smiling a succession
i'r :ul:..-:. -, i .li-. right into the face and heart
.:.! tiii- ... A .-:r. .-\ n smile answered her; and the
..:,i : !.:::.k..-l up a moment at Debby, grate-
Il.. a- hi.: : i.. the weakened brandy, butthey
!.tnr.r:d i. S': ii.n'- fice again, and rested there.
i d.l.i-' :,Ipp....... Debby, we know how to deal
rih .-II 1i .:1 '. .:... .. never havin' had any around,"
:i.i A l'. .ni. !...iir iinlly and apologetically; at the
ain. thli':. :*-.: It.lu .p hand was tenderly smoothing
t!-h: I.-:,' r ... .r I.le the other clasped one of his
h i-. hndst. ,. h,-.l w.as not very clean, either.
SN .r iind:1. -.usan, we know how to feed 'em,
:i',. 1 y; and I reckon that '11 reach
i' 'r hearts as soon as anything.
[:_' ,i.1h, Jane; you 've brought one of
l,' tbloe bowls, have n't you? That
broth smells amazin' good!
.-- Now, then, Sonny!"
Debby took the spoon
,' : '- from Jane's hand-Jane
still holding the bowl-and
S .-- prepared to feed the fam-
S ished boy.
*--':- ." I'll raise him up, Deb-
b" so that he can eat better."
A. .d accordingly, Susan raised
. i* i.i"- boy's head to her shoulder,
hen he looked up with the fee-
r...7 bil: smile again, while his lips
i.-,ved painfully; and Susan,
r.ln! her ear, alone caught the low-
w *!,i:!- w'vords.
SL.-.r..l, pity us all!" cried she to
i:. -;-rtrs. "He says he is only a
beggar-boy,-not to trouble about
him,-as though we cared, for that! "
Tears sprang to three pairs of eyes, and Debby
quickly carried a big spoonful of the broth to the
white lips. He ate slowly and seemingly in pain a
moment or two, and then turned from it with a
shiver and sigh, muttering:
"I was so hungry yesterday! I could have
swallowed it all, sure, yesterday This morning, I
had a piece of bread. The dog took it; but I
don't care; I did n't want it. I 'm so tired and so
sleepy! "
Susan put him gently down, and, as he tossed
his arms restlessly, and a wild, frightened look
came to his eyes, the three tender-hearted little
women looked eagerly at one another for an
answer to the question each face was mutely ask-
ing: "What shall we do?"


782


[AUGUST,






"A BOY ON THE PLACE."


As usual, Susan was first to recover.
I '11 have old Doctor Jones here in a wink."
"No, Susan, let me go," said Jane, quickly.
" He seems to know you better,-this child does;
sort of smiles now and then, as if he knew you.
I '11 go."
Ten minutes later, old Doll stood at the gate
below, and Jane was clambering into the covered
wagon, while Debby, on the porch, shouted num-
berless messages.
Susan, at the bedside, sat quite still, clasping
one of the burning hands, and smoothing the hair
from the hot forehead. She sat there patiently
through the long hour of Jane's absence, listening
to the low muttering of the sick boy, from which
they could glean nothing of his past; while Debby
stole in and out on tiptoe, halting at the bedside a
moment or two, then away again to the kitchen to
look after matters there; and so, patient, faithful,
Susan sat on, not only that one hour, but many,
many hours, through long days and weary nights,
while the feeble life ebbed lower and lower, as the
fever brought on by hunger And exhaustion seemed
to burn and shrivel up the little body to a skeleton.
Through the long weary nights and days, the
three watchers, themselves growing white and anx-
ious, listened wonderingly to one sentence, repeated
again and again,-sometimes gayly, then so sadly
and wearily that the tears would rush to the eyes
of the patient women:
"The tide 's out, Father; I'm coming to shore."
"What shore was he nearing?" Susan won-
dered; one day, after so many had passed away
anxiously and slowly,-wondered with a pain at her
heart, the motherly soul; for this lonely child who
had come to them in such a Providential way-
Susan held to that-was growing strangely dear to
her, and not only to her, but to Debby and Jane,
who, perhaps, could not have told what was stir-
ring their hearts, and bringing out caresses
and tender words that the unconscious boy
neither felt nor heard.
"Which shore was he approaching?" again -
and again Susan asked herself and the doc-
tor; and then prayed it might be this, if only
that they might be tender and kind to him a bit,
before his feet should touch upon that other shore.
All this and more good Susan thought and
prayed on; and then there really came a day-a
most wonderful- day, for they never left off going
back to it with joy and triumph-when the brown
eyes opened and smiled right up into good Susan's
face, causing her to beam down upon him so
cheerily he really thought at first he had gone to
heaven, and that was the face of an angel who
was to lead him straight to father and mother.
To tell of the slow return to health would be


wearisome; therefore, we shall skip it. But there
came a day, after weeks of nourishing and care,
when Willie-that was his name-Willie Brent-
told these good friends, including Doctor Jones, of
his dead mother-so long dead-and his father, a
fisherman, at Ellerton, on the coast, ten miles
away, who had been drowned within sight of his
home,-a poor old tumble-down shanty; and,
after that, Willie, having started out to seek his
fortune, and to get out of sight of the cruel sea,
strayed across the country here, there, and all
over, begging his way, but without seeming to
find a fortune, and sank at last, under the hay-
stack, where Towzer found him out at once.
"And now, when must he be moving off? "
This was asked one day after health and strength
had come back to the sick boy,- filling out the
cheeks and tinging them with a rich color. The
bright eyes shone, also, so honest and clear that
Susan, clasping him in her strong, motherly arms,
cried out: "Do you suppose we shall ever, ever let
you go away? No, not while I live and breathe !
Lord pity us all! No, never! "
And then two young arms wound themselves
closely around Susan's neck, and the brown head,
rosy cheeks, and all, lay upon Susan's shoulder.
Willing hands and nimble feet Willie Brent
brought to the quiet old homestead, and the ten-
derness that succored him in that hour of need was



\ \ ..


/


the brightest spot in all Willie's life to turn to in
after years, and was always remembered by him,
but most tenderly after Susan-Mother Susan, as
he had very early learned to call her-was carried
out from the old home to rest, on the hill-side.


x88r.]


783






BUILDERS BY THE SEA.


only saved much weariness in carrying finny spoils
to camp after, perhaps, a long and trying day, but
it helped to keep the fish fresh; and, when not in
active use, it was towed behind The Ark."
Many hints of this same kind might be given,
but this one will suffice to show that a boy with his
wits about him can lighten very materially the


fatigues inseparable from camping-out and flat-
boating. Endurance of hardship is noble in itself,
and there is call enough for it in this rough-and-
tumble world; but the fellow who most enjoys
"roughing it" in a trip outdoors is he who is
quick to save himself unnecessary exertion by using
the simple means at hand.


BUILDERS BY THE SEA.

BY W. T. PETERS.


THERE 'S a certain quartette,
Who, I now understand,
Are very much given
To shoveling sand;
And along by the beach
Their great castles are planned,
With the walls and the battlements
Builded of sand.
But I wonder if ever they dream while they play,
That the billows will wash all their castles away.

Never mind, my quartette,
Work away in the sand!
There are hundreds just like you
All over the land,-
Whose wonderful castles,
So tall and so grand,
Are builded of nothing
But glittering sand,-
Who forget that ere close of the short summer day,
The billows will wash their fine castles away.


779


x88x.]






A STRANGE FOUNDLING.


A STRANGE FOUNDLING.

BY FRANK BELLEW.


J __


MANY years ago, I was living in that curious
topsy-turvy island-continent called Australia, where
the pears have the stalk at the big end, where the
pits grow outside the cherries, where the swans are
black, where strawberries ripen at Christmas, and
where they have four-footed beasts with the bills of
birds,-well, when I was living in this country, I
one day came into possession of a young kangaroo-
rat, which is a little animal almost exactly resem-
bling a kangaroo, only much smaller.
I was at first somewhat puzzled how I should
feed my foundling, as it was too young to take
care of itself, when I suddenly remembered that
my old cat, Vic," had just become possessed of a
large family of little kittens, and I resolved to see
whether she would not adopt my kangarooling as
one of her own family. I had some doubt whether
she might not decline the charge, and make a meal


of my pet; so I watched her secretly when she
returned to her wooden box full of children, after I
had slyly slipped the rat in among them during her
temporary absence in search of food. When she
came back, she sniffed the little fellow curiously
once or twice, but sdon came to the conclusion that
he could, at least, do no harm, and left him in
quiet slumber with the rest. So I turned away
satisfied, and pleased with her hospitality.
After a few days, I noticed that puss was particu-
larly affectionate to the little stranger, showing it
more attention than any other member of the
family circle. The rat grew apace, and soon was
strong enough to use those wonderful jumping in-
struments, its hind legs, with great effect.
Well, one day, I went into the shed to see how
the orphan was getting along. The old cat was
licking it fondly, when, all of a sudden, it made a


784


[AUGUST,


~








,88t.] LITTLE MAID MARGERY. 785


big jump from under pussy's nose, clear out of
the box. The look of surprise and anxiety which
at once came over the cat's face was comical
to see. She watched this strange foundling of
hers for a few seconds with an expression of
troubled wonder, and then, slowly and deliberately
moving one paw after another, crawled out of the
box, and, coming stealthily behind the rat, took it
gently by the neck and carried it back to her nest.
When she had got it safely home, she settled
down, and began licking it and purring over it,
apparently perfectly. contented. But in a few
minutes, in the midst of her happiness,- Flick!
out jumped the rat again. Puss .looked terribly
distressed, but, as before, she crawled out of her
box and brought the truant home.


This little game was repeated more or less dur-
ing the whole day, puss sometimes allowing the rat
to make two or three bounds around the building
before she brought it back, she following close
behind with eager and anxious looks. The poor
foster-mother evidently thought she had brought
into the world a prodigy-something mysteriously
wonderful. She seriously neglected her own kit-
tens, who, poor little things, might have suffered
had they not been just old enough to lap milk.
The old cat never deserted her wonderful child,
arid it was a funny sight, when the rat grew up, to
see pussy following it on its jumping excursions.
I do not know what was the end of this attach-
ment, for, soon after, I sailed away from that
country, and left the cat and the rat behind me.


LITTLE MAID MARGERY.

BY MARGARET JOHNSON.


DAFFODILS, daffodils, daisies, and buttercups, .
Dance now your prettiest, blossom and blow. .
Little Maid Margery lies in your waving bloom;- ,
Whisper her all the sweet secrets you know.


Hush Leaning lovingly, softly bend over her.
Let not the sun in her rosy face peep.
Down 'mid the daffodils, daisies, and buttercups,
Little Maid Margery's fallen asleep !


VOL. VIII.-50.


785


i88t.]


LITTLE MAID MARGERY.







IN NATURE S WONDERLAND.


IN NATURE'S WONDERLAND; OR, ADVENTURES IN THE

AMERICAN TROPICS.

BY FELIX L. OSWALD.


CHAPTER X.

THE city of Bogota was the largest town with
the fewest inhabitants we had ever seen in America.
Three hundred years ago, when the Spaniards
conquered the empire of the Incas, they found in
the Andes a lovely valley, of such beauty and fer-
tility that it seemed strange it should be uninhab-
ited. It was traversed by the Rio Francisco,-a
rapid stream that furnished plenty of water-power
for the mining works of the Spanish gold-hunters,-
and before long, the banks of the river were lined
with workshops, warehouses, and country-seats.
But sixty years after, when Bogota was almost the
largest city in South America, one of the neighbor-
ing mountains proved to be an active volcano, and
the Spaniards now found out what had kept the
Indians from settling the Val de Francisco. When-
ever the volcano was in a state of eruption, the
city was shaken by an earthquake, and, in the
course of the next century, some twenty or thirty
such catastrophes destroyed the churches and prin-
cipal dwelling-houses, until all the wealthier resi-
dents removed to the plain along the coast.
We entered the town by a gate that was almost
blockaded with the debris of broken walls, and the
buildings of the next four or five streets looked as
forlorn as school-houses in the summer vacation;
but there was no lack of stable-room, and we soon
found a family who agreed to b6ard our animals
for the mere cost of feeding them, besides a
couple of dollars for their trouble. We also pro-
cured an extra guide,-a Pantanero, or "Moor-
man," as the Spaniards call the Indians of the
Peruvian lowlands. He pretended to be well ac-
quainted with the road to the next boat-station on
the Amazon River; so we engaged him, although
our landlord warned us that he was a hombre heret-
ico,- an unbeliever,- besides having a terrific
appetite. This second indictment was corrobo-
rated the next day, ten miles below Bogota, where
I shot a large gruya, or black heron. Our moor-
man was delighted to find that I wanted only the
skin of the bird, and he ate every bit of the rest,
leaving nothing but the head and some of the
larger bones.
But water-fowl are very abundant in the Amazon
valley, and if our new guide was going to content
himself with such fare, we thought there would be


no danger of his ruining us by the exercise of his
peculiar gift.
When we approached the southern frontier of
New Granada, the hill-country expanded into broad
pampas, grassy plateaus, with strips of woodland
here and there, and a great variety of game. We
shot some pheasants and sand-rabbits, and, in a
copse of mesquite-bushes, our dog scared up a
troop of strange-looking birds, with the short
wings and long legs of young turkeys, but about
ten times as big. We caught one of them, and,
by cross-examining the Indian, I at last identified
our prisoner. It was a young casuar, or American
ostrich; and, half an hour after, we came across a
flock of old ones, rushing through the bush with
flopping wings, and making straight for the open
pampa. Rough started in pursuit, with Menito
and me following at the top of our speed; but the
casuars ran like deer, and soon vanished in the
distance,-much to the regret of our moor-man,
who had promised himself a magnificent barbecue.
"Where is Tommy? I asked, when I returned
to the place where we had left our mule.
"He 's in that bush over yonder," said Daddy
Simon. He has found a nest of-what-d'-ye-call-
'ems? I never saw such creatures in Mexico."
"Yes, look here; I have captured two of them,"
said Tommy, emerging from the bush with a bun-
dle of something in his hand. It took me about
twenty minutes to find the little dodgers; but it
will be still harder to find a name for them. Just
look at this! Have you ever seen such prickly
hobgoblins ?"
They are what we call 'huatzarAcachiconitos,' "
observed the moor-man, when Tommy opened his
bundle.
"Yes, I suppose so," said Daddy Simon; "but
you are a heretic, you know. This boy wants to
know the Christian name."
"Does anybody know what they are?" asked
Tommy.
I had to own myself puzzled. The "hobgobl
lins looked almost like hedgehogs, but had long
ring-tails, and hands like little monkeys. "Prickly
opossums is the best term I can think of in de-
scribing them to North American readers. Their
sharp spines would have made them a nuisance to
our smooth-skinned pets; so we put them in a
basket by themselves, and, some six days after, the


786


[AUGUST,







ADVENTURES IN THE AMERICAN TROPICS.


lid of that basket was accidentally left open, and
our two nondescripts made their escape; but one
of them was recaptured, and when I showed it to a
friend in La Guayra, we found out that it was the
South American tree-porcupine (Hystrix cau-
data),-a creature found only in Southern New
Granada and in Peru.
On the third evening after our departure from
Bogota, we encamped on the banks of the Rio
Patamayo (a tributary of the Amazon), in a grove
of majestic adansonias, or monkey fig-trees.
High over our heads we heard an incessant grunt-
ing and chattering, but the evening was too fat
advanced for us to distinguish the little creatures
that moved in the top-branches of the tall trees.
The next morning, however, the noise recom-
menced, and we saw that the grunters were a sort
of small raccoons, and the chatterers a troop of
monos, or capuchin monkeys, that seemed to have
their head-quarters in the top of the highest tree.
They have not seen us yet," said Tommy, who
was watching their gambols through the foliage of
the underbrush. Oh, Uncle," he whispered, "do
you remember what you told me about catching
monkeys with a decoy ? Please, let us try it here;
they are nearly of the same kind as our Billy."
After a consultation with the Indians, we fastened
Master Bobtail to a long string, and made him go
up the tree as high as we could drive him without
betraying our presence to his relatives. We had
no traps for catching them, but our plan was to let
them come near enough for us to shoot one of the
mothers without hurting her babies. Billy's rope,
as we had expected, got entangled before long, and,
finding himself at the end of his tether, he began
to squeal, and his cries soon attracted the attention
of his friends in the tree-top. We heard a rustling
in the branches, and presently an old ring-tail made
his appearance, and, seeing a stranger, his chatter-
ing at once brought down a troop of his companions,
mostly old males, though. Mother-monkeys with
babies are very shy, and those in the tree-top
seemed to have some idea that all was not right;
they clambered to the very end of the branches to
ascertain the cause of the hubbub, but not one
came near enough, and to shoot them from such a
distance and perhaps only cripple them or their
poor youngsters, would have been useless cruelty.
Their husbands, though, came nearer and
nearer, and had almost reached Billy's perch, when
all at once their leader slipped behind the tree like
a dodging squirrel, and at the same moment we
heard from above a fierce, long-drawn scream: a
*harpy-eagle was circling around the tree-top; and
coming down with a sudden swoop, he seized one
luckless mother-monkey, that had not found time
to reach a hiding-place. The poor thing held on


to her branch with all her might, knowing that her
life and her baby's were at stake, but the eagle
caught her by the throat and his throttling clutch
at last made her relax her grip, and with a single
flop of his mighty wings, the harpy raised himself
some twenty feet, mother, baby, and all. Then we
witnessed a most curious instance of maternal devo-
tion and animal instinct-unless I should call it
presence of mind: when branch after branch
slipped from her grip and all hope was over, the
mother with her own hands tore her baby from her
neck and flung it down into the tree, rather than
have it share the fate she knew to be in store
for herself. I stood up and fired both barrels of
my gun after the robber, but without effect; the
rascal already had ascended to a height of at least
two hundred feet, and he flew off, with the switch-
ing tail of his victim dangling from between his
claws.
When the smoke cleared away, the monkey-
assembly had broken up with screams of horror,
while from the distance the report of my shots was
answered by a multitude of croaking voices, and
beyond the hills the sky was literally blackened

with swarming crows, that seemed to have risen
from the depths of the virgin woods, some five or
six miles ahead. Menito, our champion climber,
recovered Billy and the rope, and also brought us
a splendid night-butterfly, which he had caught at
the expense of several scratches to his naked arms,
for the lower branches of the monkey-tree were
almost completely overgrown with the coils of the
prickly cordero, or thorn-vine-a climbing plant of
amazing toughness, and bristling with long, sharp
spines.
Our chances for dinner were excellent that morn-
ing; besides the birds and rabbits I had shot the
day before, we had a lot of Bogota ginger-cakes,
and the Indians gathered about a peck of wild
potatoes that grew in abundance along the slope of
the river-bank. We agreed to camp at the next
spring, and the moor-man took us to a place called
the Fuente del Tigre, or Tiger's Fountain, a clear
little rivulet in a deep ravine. At the foot of the
glen there was a natural meadow, so green and
shady that our old mule broke forth in an exultant
bray; and again the echo was answered by the
voices of countless crows, quite near us this time,
for ten or twelve of them-a scouting party, prob-
ably-flew over our camping ground, and presently
flew back again, to report what they had seen.
"They are Iris-crows," said the moor-man;
"they have their roost in that copse of tanka-oaks
behind the ravine. I saw them in that same place
about five years ago. My brother fired a shot at
them, and I never in my life heard such a noise as
.they then made."


i88~.]


787






7-88


IN NATURE S WONDERLAND.


[AUGUST,


""Please, let us try that," said Tommy; "I landed him on the other side of the creek, and
believe I can find the place; it seems to be a regu- with the second jump he was away and out of
lar rookery.". sight among the bowlders of a branch ravine.
"All right," said I; "but hurry back; dinner "That was Tommy's shot-gun," said I; "he
will soon be ready." fired at the rookery, I suppose," for once more the
Menito, meanwhile, had watered our mule, and hills were ringing with the croaks and caws of the
reported that, farther up, the rill was as cold as Iris-crows.
ice, so I picked up the drinking-cup and accom- Menito made no reply, but still clutched my
panied him to the spring.*' We had followed the arm, and looking into his face, I saw the tears roll-
windings of the glen for some five or six hundred ing down his cheeks-the first and last time I ever
yards, when suddenly the boy seized my arm, and caught him crying. I never saw a braver lad of
by a sort of instinct at the same moment my eyes his age, but the excitement for once had over-
met those of an animal crouching behind a fallen strained his nerves.
tree, not more than fifteen paces from where we Oh, please, Sefor, let me get your rifle," said
stood. "Don't stir," I whispered; that's a pan- he, as soon as he had shaken off his shudder.
their! The least movement, and he will make a "We must get even with that fellow, and may be
spring." he has his young ones in this very ravine."
Menito stood as still as a statue, but I felt his The second suggestion made me agree to the
finger-nails piercing my skin; he began to realize proposition; but our search was in vain; the pan-
our situation, for even through the gloom of the their either had no young ones or its den was very
ravine and the intervening branches of the fallen well hidden.
tree we could see that the animal was getting ready "Never mind," said Tommy, who had joined
for action; inch by inch it advanced its fore paws us on our return from the ravine; "that chase has
and lowered its head. At that moment, as I given us an appetite for dinner, if nothing else."
gripped my hunting-knife, the report of a gun But this was to be a day of surprises: when we
got back to our camping ground, Dad-
--dy Simon met us with news .that our
S dinner had disappeared, vanished ut-

S' besides the contents of an eight-pound
jar of fresh lard-all in the short time
"-.i --' it had taken him to go to the creek and
I Wi wash our tin plates. "The rascal who
..-- l did it must have the appetite of a wild
., beast," said he, with a suspicious
r ~- glance at the moor-man.
.- But the moor-man protested his in-
S". nocence. "It 's quite a mystery to
S me, caballeros," said he. But, on
second thoughts, it may have been
S "- that very panther you met in the
S ravine. A panther is awfully fond of
fried rabbits; and as for lard, he could
eat a tubful and look out for more."
S"Yes, he had better look out, if I
~ catch him," growled Daddy. "I don't
see how we are going to get out of this
scrape."
-" Well, it's no use crying for lost
t milk, spilt or stolen," said I; "let 's
hunt up some more potatoes, and eat
what ginger-cakes are left."
It grew late before we had cooked
O A our second dinner, and when we had
PRCKLY OPOSS, A PLAYfinished it, the sun was far down
boomed through the glen. Not two instants after- to the west of the tall trees on the rookery-hill;
ward, the panther had vanished-a single leap had but the air was still very warm, and, as we pur-






r88.1 ADVENTURES IN THE AMERICAN TROPICS.


sued our way along the river-
bank, I was astonished to see a
large number of spider-monkeys
crossing the water v oi rI, :qI,
wherever tthe strdem was bridged
by an overhanging tree, for in the
lower tropics monkeys are rarely
to be seen, excepting in the fore-
noon and during the cool half-hour
between sunset and twilight.
"I believe they are traveling,
Seiior," said Daddy Simon,-"mi-
grating to some part of the coun-
try where there is more to eat. I
have seen the same thing in Guate-
mala; and spider-monkeys are said
to send out scouts to spy out the
land for hundreds of miles."
In the Brazilian virgin woods
there is plenty to eat, the year round, but on t
border of the western pampas the summer he
often becomes so intense that all vegetation wit
ers, and even animals pass the dryest weeks in
sort of summer-sleep; lizards hide in rock-clef
and aihg I. crawl into the fissures of the su
dried mud, until they are awakened by the fij
showers of the rainy season.
Toward evening we reached a castillo," as t
moor-man called it,-a clearing at the mouth of
tributary stream, where the Spaniards had built
military post and a few log shanties. The fort w
now in ruins, and had long been abandoned; b
the main building was still weather-tight enough
afford us a comfortable night's lodging. I sent o
the boys to get a few armfuls of fire-wood, and so(
Menito returned with a lot of sti.-i:; and dry pair
leaves.
"Would you like to get another boa, Senori
said he. "I have chased one into a thorn-tre
and she can not get away. It 's not more th;
three or four hundred yards from here."
I got my shot-gun and followed him to a cldu
of tamarind-trees, so entirely covered with corde:
thorns that the whole looked like a huge vegetab
porcupine. A volley of stones disclosed the where
about of the snake, and, after my first shot,
crawled up into the higher branches, evident
with the intention of escaping into another tri
that overtopped the porcupine copse. But tl
creature's head now came plainly in view, and tl
second shot did its work so visibly and complete
that I did not think it necessary to reload my gu
just then. How to get -the snake, however, was
different and more difficult question; the thorr
tangle seemed almost impenetrable.
That tall tree behind there is not near as bad
said Menito. "I believe I can get that boa wit


THE HARPY-EAGLE BEARS OFF THE MOTHER-MONKEY.

he a noose and a long stick, if you will give me
!at a lift."
h- With a long sapling and a piece of string, we
a made what the Mexicans call a lariat-pole, and
ts, Menito ascended the tree as fast as possible, to
n- finish his job before night-fall.
rst "I've got it!" he called out, after fishing and
hooking around for a few minutes; but he had
he hardly pronounced the last word when he slipped,
a and, dropping his pole, just caught the tree in the
a nick of time to save himself from falling headlong
as into the thorny maze below.
ut "She's alive yet!" cried he; "I caught her
to round the neck, but she braced herself and
ut wrenched the stick out of my hand. What shall I
on do now ? "
n- "Give it up," said I; "it's getting dark. You
might lose your hold, and that would be the last
of you."
e, "Yes, make him come down," said Tommy;
in we 'd better lose a boa than a boy, and this one
is not niuch of a loss, anyhow. It's only half-
ip grown, and one of the common steel-blue kind, or
ro I am much mistaken."
le The old fort seemed to have been abandoned
e- a good many years. A hollow walnut-tree had
it grown all around and even into one corner of the
ly building, and the tree itself Was inhabited. by a
ee colony of bats that became very noisy after dark,
ie and fluttered around our camp-fire like moths
he about an unshielded light. Some of my compan-
ly ions were already asleep, when I saw a troop of
in wild dogs prowling around the building and
a exploring our camp with cautious steps. After
ly midnight, we were all awakened by a curious
grunting noise, as.if a drove of barn-yard hogs
," were quarreling over their shucks. Toward morn-
:h' ing, the quarrel seemed to have resulted in a fight.


789






IN NATURE'S WONDERLAND.


The grunts now sounded loud and fierce, and were
mingled at intervals with the unmistakable yells of
a wounded hog.
Let us steal out and see what it is," whispered
Tommy; and, walking softly through the rear
yard, we followed the shore of the river, in the pale
morning light, until we reached the mouth of the
tributary stream at a sort of peninsula, where we
became witnesses of a curious scene: two peccary-
boars fighting fiercely on the open sand-bank,


fusely from a wound in his shoulder; but his
adversary seemed to have received a more serious,
though invisible, injury. He staggered now and
then, and often had to yield to the onset of his
heavy antagonist. He appeared to see that he
could not maintain himself much longer, and,
during the next pause, he evidently made up his
mind to change his tactics, for he suddenly rushed
upon his rival with an impetus that sent the old
fellow rolling over the level sand. But before the


-

- .- -_ ----


"A TROOP OF WILD DOGS PROWLING AROUND THE RUINED BUILDING."


while their female relatives peeped from behind the
willow-bushes, and seemed to encourage the com-
batants by their emphatic grunts. Now and then,
in the inter-acts of the conflict, the personal
acquaintances of the warriors appeared on the
battle-ground to inquire after the condition of their
champions; but as soon as the duel recommended,
all non-combatants beat a hasty retreat. We were.
screened by a low mesquite-bush, and could see the
prize-fighters quite plainly. One of them-a pow-
erful, gray-headed old boar-was bleeding pro-


fallen athlete had recovered his legs, his assailant
took to his heels and raced away with a speed that
soon put him beyond the reach of pursuit. The
old boar rose and made a blind rush in the direc-
tion of his rival's former standing-ground, but,
finding it untenanted, he seemed to comprehend
the turn matters had taken, and, with his head
proudly erect, he marched to the willow-thicket,
where the herd received him as their sole monarch
by rubbing their snouts against his neck, and hail-
ing him with loud grunts of homage.


790


[AUGUST,





ADVENTURES IN THE AMERICAN TROPICS.


When we returned to the castillo, our companions
were still fast asleep,-Daddy Simon on his mantle-
sack and Menito in his little hammock. But where
was the moor-man? His blankets were lying in a
heap in the corner,-where could he be?
Oh, Uncle, just step this way!" whispered
Tommy. "There is a fire in the yard! I believe
that man is cooking a luncheon for himself! "
"Very well," said I; "call Daddy Simon, and
tell him to find out what the fellow is doing. I '11
take another nap, if I can.'"
But before I could fall asleep, old Daddy shook
me by the arm. "Please get up, Senor, and get
your shot-gun," said he. "We must stampede
that heretic as fast as his legs will carry him."
"What is he doing?" I asked.
"Doing? Why, he has swallowed about six
pounds of wheat-flour, besides all our sugar. I
believe he has been baking cakes all night. Now
I know who gobbled our lard If I had n't caught
him in time, he would have swallowed our lantern-
oil, too. He had actually opened the bottle. No,
no, Sefior, I can't stand this any longer! "
"All right," I replied; "fetch him in here."
I understand you have been eating your week's
rations in advance, amigo ?" said I, when the cul-
prit made his appearance.
"Oh, no, Sefior, nothing but a little comida-a
small refreshment," said he, just for my stomach's
sake; I felt sort of queer this morning."
"I suppose so," said I; "it's pretty hard to
digest eight pounds of lard without any seasoning.
Here, my friend," said I, handing him a couple
of copper coins; "you had better go back to Bogota
and get a bottle of allspice, or you might have a
very sudden fit of something or other."
,"Oh, Menito, get me that horse-whip," said
Daddy Simon. But Don Moor-man already had
decamped, with his jacket and blanket.
"Talk about ghouls and ogres said old Daddy;
"why, that fellow must be possessed by a were-
wolf, or he could never have eaten as much as all
that at a sitting. You ought to give Tommy five


dollars reward for catching him in time; why, he
would have ruined us in another meal or two "
"Well, I am glad he is gone," I laughed; "but
what about our road to San Pedro ?"
"Oh,. I will pilot you through all right," said
Daddy; from this fort there is a good trail to the
Mission of Dolores, and, below that, we shall find
plenty of white settlers and boat-stations."
The tributary river was a little too deep to wade,
we found; but we managed to get across, with
the help of our mule and big bundles of dry bul-
rushes, which proved of great assistance in swim-
ming. Palmetto-cane, too, is as buoyant as cork,
and the Indians of the Lower Amazon often cross
that vast river on a sheaf of long reeds, straddling
the bundle as if riding horseback.
Old Daddy was right: on the other side of the
stream there was a plain trail, and knowing that
our destination was due east, we had no difficulty
in finding our way. For one reason only did we
miss our moor-man : the glutton was so well
acquainted with the whereabouts of all eatable
plants that he had been as useful to us as those
accomplished pigs the French employ to hunt up
wild mushrooms and truffles. But by experiment-
ing with the roots and berries we found on the
road-side, we ascertained that our little Bobtail,
too, possessed a talent for distinguishing edible
vegetables from noxious ones; he never made
a mistake, and whenever we were in doubt about
the wholesomeness of any unknown fruit, we had
only to offer Billy a sample, and his approval or
disapprobation would safely decide the question.
But it is a curious fact that monkeys are wholly
unable to di',.'.g*:, mineral poisons, and the
domesticated apes, in the houses of the East
Indian planters, often come to grief by eating rats-
bane and lucifer matches. The explanation seems
to be that animals in a state of nature are not
likely to come across such stuff as arsenic and phos-
phorus, so their instinct warns them only against
such poisons as in their wild haunts they might
mistake for harmless food.
(To be continued.)


HEAD OF PECCARY.


791





THE OWL AND THE- SPIDER.


A


4. .5


'I


B, FR.- .i: Hi. Si ..iirrrr.


[,.'+ "u *I,1 b, Itr', r.,,.:.
I .'. n -it, t. I, r...' :, ,
L .,:,t tr. r, ,.., 1 ,. !...u .


And soon waked the napper.

" Mr. "Owl, don't you mind him;
With cobwebs I 'll bind hinm,
And round and round wind him."

Thus. spoke up a spider,
Strip'd like an outrider;
The owl sharply eyed her,

And said: If he cheat you,
I '11 not scold nor beat you,
I '11 just merely eat you."


'l '- ,''I h. .rur
H-l ...,, .I ,nd thiri.
R .,,I 1. 'h ,: b,, 11 :ri. ,H ,. II .


The l -'ii f .. itrmin I
The bell went a-storming'
The bell went a-storming!


With a cling and a clang,
With a boom and a bang,
The old clapper rang!

The owl did n't chide her,
Rebuke nor deride her,
But he ate up that spider!


Here is a moral, dear children, for you,
Never promise a thing you 're not able to do.


[AUGusT.


792


y" .


~--li--_






HOW WE BELLED THE RAT.


793


HOW WE BELLED THE RAT, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

BY LIZZIE W. CHAMPNEY.


MOTHER had gone to Cranberry Center to
attend the quarterly meeting of W. B. F. M.
(Wesleyan Board of Foreign Missions).
She had left each of us a "stent," which, if we
had been faithful, would have' kept us busy until
sundown, for it was a part of her creed that
Satan finds some mischief still,
For idle hands to do."
Byron Shelley Moore was the eldest. He had
been named so by three college boys, who boarded
at- our house when he was a baby; each gave the
name of his favorite poet, and they promised that,
if Mother would call him so, they would each give
him a year at college when he grew up, and if he
was any sort of a fellow, he could pay for his last
year himself, by school-teaching or some other
work. One of the three students died young, the
other went out West and lost all his money, and
the third was our minister, with six boys of his
own, and not enough salary to send one of them
to the select"school, let alone college. So, all that
Byron Shelley Moore ever received from the three
students was his name. The rest of us Mother had
called after missionaries and philanthropists.
Byron Shelley Moore was sitting on the saw-horse
in the wood-house, trying to calculate how long it
would take him to finish the pile, when he saw the
rat cautiously peering from under the corn-house.
He dropped the saw as if it had been red-hot,
rushed up the attic stairs, four steps at a time,
after the trap, and burst with it into the dairy,-
where Hetty, the hired help', was molding butter,
-to ask for a piece of cheese for bait.
Meehet-able," he called, there 's a rat in the
wood-house as big as'all outdoors! Give me a
piece of cheese, as quick as a wink!"
He shouted to me, as he tore through the but-
tery, "Come up here, if you want to see fun "
I had gone down cellar after a pumpkin, which
Mother had told me to slice and pare for Hetty,
who was to stew it down and make a batch of pies
before night, for there was no telling but she might
bring home a missionary with her to stay over
Sunday. When I heard my brother, I dropped
the pumpkin and came up directly. We set the
trap and kept as still as we could until the rat
came out again, walked straight into it, and was
caught; and then we raised a noise loud enough
to have been heard at Cranberry Center.


Sarah Boardman, who had been sweeping the
spare bedroom for the missionary, came down-
stairs with a pillow-case on her head, and little
Elizabeth Fry scrambled down from her high chair,
into which she had climbed to see what was on the
top shelf of the china-closet.
"What are you going to do with him? asked
Sarah Boardman.
"I've a :..';-i1-i-cent idea," exclaimed Byron
Shelley Moore. Let's tie a bell around his neck,
and then; let him go,-it '11 frighten all the other
rats, so that they '11 leave the country in a proces-
sion, the rat with the bell bringing up the rear.
Wont it be fun to see it, though ? "
"Me wants you to dead him," insisted little
Elizabeth Fry; "me wants you to dead him, so
me can see him all buried in the seminary."
She meant cemetery, of course; but we did not
pay any attention to her, for Byron Shelley Moore's
proposal had taken our fancy, although there was
some trouble when it came to be carried out. My
brother thought the best mode would be for Adon-
iram Judson to hold the rat while he affixed the
bell,-a -,iiiii S.-i.-L...i. which had been fastened
to Elizabeth Fry's sled, and which she was very
i iI n!.; t.:. giveup. I thought that Byron Shelley
Moore had better hold the rat, and we did not
seem likely to come to any conclusion; but we
finally constructed a slip-noose, by means of which
the bell was fastened about the rat's neck with-
out taking him from the wire trap. On being
released, he disappeared down the hole from which
he had come, and we saw him no more. We
wanted the fun of keeping a secret, and so we
made Hetty promise not to tell. Little Elizabeth
Fry tried her best to report the whole affair; but
her account of "a funny bird, wizzout any fezzers,
that runned away wiz her jingle-bell," did not give
any one a clue to the facts.
As day after day went by, we heard from our rat
in nearly all the houses on our street.
There was a young lady boarding for the sum-
mer at our next door neighbor's. She was a
believer in signs and dreams, and a few days after
our adventure with the rat, she told at the sewing-
society, which was held at our house, of a most
remarkable spiritual manifestation that had oc-
curred in her house the night before, and which,
-she felt, foretold her own death. "I had been told
by a medium," she said, "that a short time before






HOW WE BELLED THE RAT,


my death I should be warned by a passing bell.
Last night I could not sleep, the moonlight
streamed into my room, and I lay looking at the
tall, old-fashioned clock that stood in the corner,
when suddenly it struck! Now you will say at first
that there is nothing astonishing in that, but when
I tell you that the works of the clock had been
removed, that it was only a clock-case, which I had
had fitted up with shelves for a little closet, in which
to keep medicines and sweetmeats, I think you
will say that it was at least very queer. I counted
the strokes, though it was rather hard to do so, for
it was not like the chiming of an ordinary time-
piece, but more like the tinkling of a little bell."
At this, we chil-
l,./'I, dren pricked up our
ears. We had come
in with the "re-
freshments."
The young lady
went on to say that
the clock had struck
twenty-five, and she
was just twenty-four
Years old, and she
S\f11 / g believed that she


SQUIRE TWEEZER IS FRIGHTENED.
a very rich man, and he


had but one more
year to live. She
said that she had
considerable prop-
erty, which she did
not know what to
do with, and she
wished to ask the
ladies' advice about
leaving it to some
charity. Mother
thought she had
better send it to a
foreign mission, and
the young lady
asked Mother to
write to one of them,
saying that if they
would name the
mission after her,
she would leave
them a thousand
dollars in her will.
The next place
where we heard from
our rat was Squire
Tweezer's. He was
lived all alone with


his housekeeper and servant, in a great brick
house on lonely Pine Hill. He had a son who
should have lived there with him, but the young


man had displeased his father in some way, and
the old gentleman had turned him out-of-doors.
When Father asked him if he was not afraid
to live in that desolate house, so far away from any


"AUNT POLLY SPRANG UPON A CHAIR."

neighbors, when it was generally supposed that he
had money in the house, he replied that no bur-
glar could enter the house without awakening the
family, for he had burglar-alarms fastened to every
window and the lock of every door, which would
ring so loudly that thieves would be scared away.
"And what," said my father, "if the burglars
should come in sufficient force not to be fright-
ened, but should break right in, bells or no bells;
what then ? "
Squire Tweezer turned quite pale. I had not
thought of that," he replied.
The very next day after this conversation, he


794


[AUGUST,






AND WHAT CAME OF IT.


called on Father to say that he had written to his
son, forgiving him for all the past and begging him
to come home to live with him.
"What has influenced you to this decision?"
asked my father. "Are you afraid that the burglars
will come ? "
Squire Tweezer lowered his voice to a mysterious
whisper :
They have come !"
"What ? exclaimed our father.
"My house was entered last night," replied
Squire Tweezer. It was quite late, but I had
not retired. I was quietly reading my newspaper,
when-jingle, jingle, jingle, I heard a bell in some
remote part of the house. It could not be the
housekeeper ringing for the maid, for every one in
the house had gone to bed long before, and there
was even less probability that there were callers.
Instantly the idea flashed through my mind that it
was the burglar-alarm, and I felt my hair rise on
my head. I rose to my feet, letting my paper fall,
and listened. Presently I heard the bell in another
part of the house; evidently the burglars had left
that window and were trying another, and so it
went on. I really believe, my dear sir, they tam-
pered with every window on the premises; at any
rate, that little bell sent its warning jingle from
every part of the house. Finally, they seemed to
have got in, for I heard the ringing in the parlors
beneath me. I had just enough presence of mind
left to lock and barricade my door, and then I
believe that for a few hours I actually lost my
senses, for I seemed to hear that bell all about me
-overhead, underfoot, in the walls, accompanied
by scuffling feet running up and down the staircase.
Silence came at length, shortly after morning
dawned, and the strangest part of my story is that
we could not find that a single article had been
taken, or that the doors. or windows had been
opened. However, my nerves have received such
a shock that I have decided that it will be a very
desirable thing to have a stout fellow like my son
in the house to grapple with a robber, in case one
should come."
Squire Tweezer's story was discussed by our
parents in our presence, and certainly no culprits
ever looked guiltier than we when the bell was
mentioned again. We should have confessed then
and there, had not Father remarked:
"Whatever may have caused the ringing which
the Squire heard, or thought he heard, it has done
good, and I am glad that he has sent for his son."
After that, we heard of our rat in a number of


other houses; but the mystery was explained,
at last, by Miss Mary Parrot, a little old maid,
who lived, in very great poverty, in a small red
house at the extreme end of the lane. "Aunt
Polly," as we all called her, heard the ringing in
the wall of her dining-room, and was not at all
frightened, although it was accompanied by a great
rapping and thumping just behind the side-board.
As it happened in the day-time, she went for the
village carpenter, who moved the slender-legged
side-board and widened a rat-hole which he found
in the wall, until out rolled a black ball, with a
metallic something attached. Even the self-
possessed Aunt Polly gathered her petticoats
about her, and sprang upon a chair. It was our
rat; but in the wall he had found an object which
had probably been dragged there from the side-
board by other rats, on account of some dainty
which it had formerly held. The object was a tiny
solid-silver sugar-bowl, and our rat, having intro-
duced his head, had been held fast by the bell
catching within the rim of'the bowl.
This bowl was a quaint little affair, and it bore the
name of the engraver who had decorated it-Paul
Revere. There were plenty of antiquarians who
would give Aunt Polly a handsome sum for the
little Revolutionary relic.
Little 'Elizabeth Fry recognized the bell, and
claimed it. Sarah Boardman, who had been suf-
fering during all this time with the consciousness
of a guilty secret, confessed all; and Squire
Tweezer, the young lady next door, and Aunt
Polly, were constituted a committee to decide
what punishment should be inflicted upon us.
They never came to any decision, and all seemed
perfectly satisfied with the result. Even the young
lady next door, who no longer believed that she
was to die within the year (since the bell was not a
warning from the spirit-land), made an immediate
donation of her contribution to
the missionaries,





instead
of making
them wait for
her will, and she
was heard to say that, since she could be deceived
in one "sign," she might be in others; hereafter
she would not believe in "signs" at all.


a881.1


795






THE ST. NICHOLAS TREASURE-BOX.


THE ST. NICHOLAS TREASURE-BOX

OF LITERATURE.


FOR lack of space, the Treasure-box lays before you
this month, dear readers, only four short poems,-songs
we might better call them, and two of them very famous
songs. These, "The Three Fishers," and "The Sea," are
especially appropriate to the midsummer, when from our
large cities thousands of boys and girls, with their fathers
and mothers, flock to the sea-side on a joyous holiday. All
such fortunate young folk know that the ocean is both
a grand giver of delight and a terrible destroyer; and so
they will appreciate the beauty and truth of these two
songs of the sea. They were written by two noted


THE THREE FISHERS.

BY CHARLES KINGSLEY.*

THREE fishers went sailing out into the west,-
Out into the west, as the sun went down;
Each thought on the woman who loved him
the best,
And the children stood watching them out
of the town;
For men must work and women must weep,
And there 's little to earn and many to keep,
Though the harbor bar be moaning.


Three wives sat up in the light-house tower,
And they trimmed the lamps as the sun
went down;
They looked at the squall and they looked at
the shower,
And the night-rack came rolling up ragged
and brown;
But men must work and women must weep,
Though storms be sudden and waters deep,
And the harbor bar be moaning.

Three corpses lay out on the shining sands
In the morning gleam as the tide went
down,
And the women are weeping and wringing
their hands
For those who will never come home to the
town;
For men must work and women must weep,-
And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep,-
And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.

Born, June 12, 18x9; died, 1875.


Englishmen, Charles Kingsley and Bryan Waller Procter
(better known by his 'nor de plume of Barry Corn-
wall"). Both of these authors, as some of you know
already, gave to the world many more important writ-
ings than their short and simple songs. Yet even these
have gained them a high reputation, for'Charles Kingsley
and Barry Cornwall are ranked by lovers of true poetry
as among the foremost of English song-writers.
The dainty poem, Golden-tressed Adelaide," was
written by Procter for his daughter, Adelaide Procter,
who herself afterward became well-known as a poet.


THE SEA.

BY BARRY CORNWALL.f

THE sea the sea! the open sea,
The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
Without a mark, without a bound,
It runneth the earth's wide.regions round,
It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies;
Or like a cradled creature lies.


.*' \ ': : .- .
4.




.

-. :,... -


fs'.'.- -
-.,,.s --'


I'm on the sea! I'm on the sea!
I am where I would ever be;
With the blue above, and the blue below,
And silence wheresoe'er I go;
If a storm should come and awake the deep,
What matter? I shall ride and sleep.

t Born, about 1790; died, October 5, 1874.


The two poems by Charles Kingsley are inserted by permission of Messrs. Macmillan & Co., the owners of the copyright.


796


[AUGusr,






THE ST. NICHOLAS TREASURE-BOX.


797


I love (oh, how I love!) to ride
On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide,
When every mad wave drowns the moon,
Or whistles aloft his tempest-tune,
And tells how goeth the world below,
And why the south-west blasts do blow.


I never was on the dull, tame shore
But I loved the great sea more and more,
And backward flew to her billowy breast,
Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest;
And a mother she was, and is to me;
For I was born on the open sea!






















GOLDEN-TRESSED ADELAIDE.
--











A Songfar a Child.

BY BARRY CORNWALL.

SING, I pray, a little song,
Mother dear!
Neither sad nor very long:
It is for a little maid,
Golden-tress-d Adelaide!
Therefore let it suit a merry, merry ear,
Mother dear!


Let it be a merry strain,
Mother dear!
Shunning e'en the thought of pain:
For our gentle child will weep
If the theme be dark and deep;
And wo will not draw a single, single tear,
Mother dear!


The waves were white, and red the morn,
In the noisy hour when I was born;
And the whale it whistled, the porpoise roll'd,
And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
And never was heard such an outcry wild
As welcomed to life the ocean child!

I've lived since then, in calm and strife,
Full fifty summers a sailor's life,
With wealth to spend and a power to range,
But never have sought nor sigh'd for change;
And Death, whenever he come to me,
Shall come on the wild, unbounded sea!


4-
- ,-


Childhood should be all divine,
Mother dear !
And like an endless summer shine;
Gay as Edward's shouts and cries,
Bright as Agnes's azure eyes:
Therefore bid thy song be merry:-dost thou
hear,
Mother dear?

A FAREWELL.

BY CHARLES KINGSLEY.

MY fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
For every day.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long;
And so make life, death, and that vast forever
One grand, sweet song.


s88sr.






SALTILLO BOYS.


SALTILLO BOYS.

BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD.


CHAPTER IX.

GYMNASTICS.

HE week following the first
excursion of the Ram-
blers' Club was cold and
stormy, such as often
comes in April after a
spell of fine weather.
Will Torrance declared
that the roads would be
too muddy and the fields
too soft on Saturday for any fun in rambling; and
all the Park boys agreed with him.
"It's sandy along the lake," he said, "but we
don't want to try that over again, right away." ,
"It 's a bad sort of a place, too," remarked
Otis Burr. "The people alongshore own their
ducks."
"And you have to pay for them if you shoot
them," laughed Jack Roberts. "They caught
you at it, did they ?"
Jack, ducks are a sore subject with me. I
had mine cooked, and we tried to eat him. If he
wasn't tough, there was something the matter with
our carving-knife. It wouldn't rhake a scratch on
him, after he came to the table."
Charley Ferris had almost as bad an account to
give; but Will could say a very good word for his
sandpipers.
"We served them broiled, on toast," he said,
"and there was only one real difficulty."
"What was that?"
"We had to eat them two at a time to make
sure we were eating anything,-they were so
small! "

The wind and rain made it a quiet week for the
boys, and there was all the more time for those
who had newspapers to get .up or declamations to
prepare. John Derry had made up his mind on
the whole subject.
"I 'll stick to oratory. I and Daniel Webster
are the greatest orators alive. He is a kind man,
too; saves me the trouble of making up any-
thing."
There was no danger that John would again
take so much trouble as on the first Friday; but
Mr. Hayne shook his head a little when the young
"orator" came upon the platform, and began pre-


cisely where he left off before, on being interrupted
by Mr. Hayne.
"You see, boys," said John, "Mr. Webster put
a good deal into that speech. I think it '11 last me
till vacation."
John's labor-saving plan did not work; Mr.
Hayne called upon him for a written exercise for
the next week, and gave him as a theme, "The
Discovery of America by Columbus."
The other declamations were pretty good, and
the newspapers brought in by what Jeff Carroll
called the second set" of editors were nearly as
well prepared as the first had been, so that the
interest was kept up.
That was all very well, but it did not suggest to
the boys what they could do with Saturday, in the
kind of weather they were likely to have.
"I '11 tell you one thing we can do," said Andy
Wright, as he listened to the murmurs around
him in the entry-way, after school.
What 's that?"
"I 'm going to try it, myself. Professor Sling,
the gymnasium man, has been refitting his concern.
New fixings, of all sorts. He wants some new
classes, and he has put his prices down."
"He 's a good man," said Otis Burr, solemnly.
"Classes in what ?" asked Joe Martin.
Just what you need: boxing, fencing, all that
sort of thing. He gives the first lesson free."
"I '11 go and take that one, anyhow," exclaimed
John Derry.
"I move we all show ourselves at Professor
Sling's, to-morrow morning, at ten o'clock," said
Charley Ferris.
"Don't scare him to death! said Jeff Carroll.
He 's a small man."
The motion did not require to be put, but the
word went around among the boys, and, in conse-
quence, there was about as faithful an attendance
at Professor Sling's, at the appointed hour, as if
he had been Mr. Hayne himself.
The "gymnasium was a fairly good one, and
had been creeping slowly into popularity for about
a year, but nearly all its patrons had been full.
grown men.
Professor Sling was now showing wisdom in try-
ing to call in the boys, but he had publicly declared
that his "boy classes" would be carefully com-
pelled to obey his instructions. Medical men had
warned him that boys in their teens must not be
allowed to strain themselves.


798


[AUGusr.






SALTILLO BOYS.


Some of the Park boys had been there, "for a
look," already, but most of them had not, and it
was interesting enough to them all, even before
the "professor," as he called himself, invited them
to make a trial of what they saw.
There were parallel bars, both upright and
horizontal; spring bars; jumping, bars; leaping
bars; swings and rings; climbing posts; ladders;
dynamometers; dumb-bells; clubs; boxing-gloves;
masks, gloves, and foils for fencing. The professor
kindly explained the use of them all, one after the
other. He even gave a brief example of the
management of them as he went along, keeping
the gloves and foils till the last. Now, Mr. Tor-
rance," he said, I 'm a small man. You're
almost as tall as I am: Put on those boxing-gloves
with me."
Will did so, with a somewhat serious look, for he
heard Charley Ferris whisper to Jack Roberts:
Sling will knock him into the middle of next
week."
"Now, sir, take your first lesson. Don't hold
your hands that way. Strike at me. Bah !-strike
straight out from your shoulder, as if you meant to
hit me in the face. All your might, now !"
But wont it hurt you, if I hit you ? "
"Of course it will. It'll knock me down.
Bang me terribly. Hit away. Hit hard!"
The boys understood, very well, that the pro-
-fessor was poking fun at Will, but neither they nor
their friend had as much faith in Sling as he had
in himself.
Will felt even a little nettled, and he suddenly
began to strike quick and hard, right and left.
Good! that 's it! You 'll do. I can make a
boxer out of you. I know I can." *
But the rapid blows seemed to glance from
Sling's windmill arms like hailstones from a duck's
back. His face was as safe and untouched when
Will had pounded himself out of breath as when
he began.
That '11 do, my young friend; you '11 have
lame arms to-morrow. Does anybody else want
to try?"
Of course they did; but it was, as usual, "next
turn" for Charley Ferris, who felt absolutely sure
he could put one of his gloves against the professor,
somewhere.
He did his best, but it was of no manner of use,
and there would have been no glory for the Park
at all, if it had not been for Otis Burr.
The red-haired boy went at it very quietly, and
seemed, for a wonder, disposed to ask questions.
The professor was politely ready to answer him,
even while boxing; and it was right in the middle
of one of his answers that Otis got a clean hit at
his right cheek.


How the boys did cheer !
"I can make a boxer of you, too exclaimed
the professor, gleefully. "You 're as cool a hand
as I ever saw. We wont use any more time this
way. Let us try the foils. Some of the others
put on the masks and gloves with me."
John Derry was as ready as a boy could be, and
it was not half a minute before the professor said:
"You've had a foil in your hand before, my
boy."
"Only while my cousin was home from West
Point. We used to practice."
"A little more practice, and a good deal more
strength in your wrist, and you will almost know
how to fence. Pick up your foil."
It had suddenly flashed away out of his hand,-
he could hardly guess how,-and Jeff Carroll
exclaimed:
"Now, John, can't you hold on to a little thing
like that ?"
Butter-fingers said Andy Wright.
"It's easy enough to disarm a man, if he 's at
all off his guard," remarked Sling. "I 'll teach
you better things than that."
He was awakening a good deal of interest in the
subject of exercise and self-defense, at all events,
and was sure of new scholars from among his audi-
ence.
Some of you go to Mr. Hayne's school, don't
you ? "
"All of us."
"He comes here to practice three times a week."
"Can he box and fence ? "
"Pretty well; but it 's exercise he comes for,
mainly."
The respect of Mr. Hayne's pupils for their
teacher went up several inches after that informa-
tion, and one of the first questions asked him on
the next Monday morning, before school, was from
Charley Ferris:
"Do you think it's wrong to box, Mr. Hayne ?"
"Wrong? No. Why?"
"Or to fence? "
"Of course not. If a man should try to hurt
you, would it be wrong for you to run away ?"
I' should guess not."
Then, would it be wrong to know how to run?
or, if he were so near he tried to strike you, would
it be wrong to ward off the blow? "
"Why, no; it would n't."
"Then it would not be wrong to know how to
ward it off, any more than it would to know how to
run away."
"But if I knewv how to box, I never would run
away."
"I would, then, rather than have a fisticuff,
unless it were necessary; but I 'd like to have


i88,.]


799






SALTILLO BOYS.


every scholar of mine able to protect himself, o
anybody else."
That was enough, for half the school had gath
ered around by that time; and even Joe Martin
whose father was a clergyman, said: "There
boys, I told .you so. Father 's a member of th
Peace Society, and he thinks exactly as Mr. Hayn
does."
Professor Sling had ten out of the sixteen o:
his muster-roll before the week was out, and Wi]
Torrance and several others began their boxin,
lessons at once.
It was not at all a bad thing for any of them
moreover, that Jim Swayne began the very nex
day, and that he and Will were frequently
"matched" by the professor. Before the middle
of the next week, it was necessary for Sling to say
"No, Mr. Torrance; not you and Mr. Swayne
You 're too much for him. It spoils his practice
and yours, too. You may wrestle with him, noN
and then, if you care to."
That was a sorry word for Jim to hear; but their
was less likelihood of anything more being said o]
the subject of the May festival election. Th
boxing-class came in as a peace-maker.


CHAPTER X.

TWO DISAGREEABLES.

THE sun had his turn at the weather, now, an
there broke out under it what Andy Wright calle,
"the marble plague." He was too old for it, bu
all the rest caught it. Even the gymnasium, fo
a time, seemed to have less charms than a cup-hol
in the ground, with a ring around it..
It's a disease that comes every spring," saii
Andy. You can save your best agates, though
for specimens. I got some of the best in m
collection that way."
That was a lost suggestion on most of them
Nearly every agate was lost, too, before the season:
was over, but when, on Wednesday morning o
that week, Mr. Hayne opened school with the re
mark that he had something special to say, Joh:
Derry whispered Marbles to Otis Burr.
'Not exactly. It was only a plain statement o
the fact that a gentleman of wealth had applied fo
admission to the school for his two boys, and ha,
been told there was no room for them;
"Now, young gentlemen, have we no room her
for two more desks ? "
The boys looked soberly around the partly filled
room and then at one another.
"I will tell you. I am well satisfied with yo
all, thus far, and I do not wish to run any risks.


r would not let in anybody else unless I could be
made sure it would be pleasant for all of us."
- They knew exactly what he meant, and the les-
,son was a good one. Only two or three of-them
,were the sons of really "rich men." Money had
e had nothing to do with his decision, and they were
e sure of Mr. Hayne's sincerity when he said that he
had room for boys of "character" only.
n Can you guess who it is ?" said Charley, Ferris
11 to Andy, after school. "I can't."
g "If I could, I would n't."
"Guess the meanest pair of chaps you know,"
,said Jeff Carroll. "You wont need to have any-
t body.tell you."
y Oh, it's Brad and Tom Lang, is it ? I might
e have known "
: "Of course it 's they !" said Jack Roberts.
"I 'm just glad he did n't let 'em in! They 'd
Shave made all sorts of trouble."
v There were remarks all around upon the un-
doubted wisdom and justice of shutting out the
e Laig boys, if they indeed were the rejected appli-
n cants, The voting was all one way, and it was all
e against Brad and Tom Lang."
They.were not by any means unknown boys,
therefore. On his way home after school, that
night, Joe Martin was met by.a couple of well-
dressed young fellows, to whom. he did not speak,
but who did not seem disposed to let him have
his half of the sidewalk.
One of them was .about his size, but heavier, and
I the other one half a head taller. They were not
I bad-looking boys, excepting for a sort of '. a.r,
.t and.something "flashy" in: their getting up.
r Joe was quite willing to give them all the room
e they needed, but, as he turned out for them, the
shorter boy gave him a sharp and sudden shove,
d and the taller one gruffly exclaimed:
"Hit him, Tom! He goes to Hayne's. Hit
y him "
The hit was given, though in a half-hearted way,
that seemed to call for reproof.
n "Call that a hit?"
f "Why, Brad, his father 's a minister."
"I'll hit him, then."
n Joe had not struck- back yet, but he had not
"run," and his pale cheeks, his clenched fists, and
f tightening lips did not express any fear whatever,
r badly overmatched though he was.
d Brad Lang was stepping forward, with an evi-
dent intention of keeping his word, when tl.- ,;'re
e of the nearest house-yard swung suddenly open,
and light footsteps came tripping down to the side-
d walk.
"Brad! Brad! exclaimed Torn. "Here are a
u lot of the girls!"
I Brad glanced quickly behind him, but he saw


800


[AucGUT,






SALTILLO BOYS.


quite enough in that swift look, and he did not
strike Joe Martin. Come on, Tom! said he.
They walked rapidly away, while Joe stood his
ground unflinchingly, until his rescuers had come
near.
They were an angry party of young ladies,-
Belle Roberts, Milly, Dora Keys, and Sarah Dyke-
man,-who had seen the whole affair. Their flash-
ing eyes and flushed cheeks told exactly how they
felt about it.
"The cowards! exclaimed Belle.
"Did they hurt you, Joe? asked Sarah.
"Hurt me? No, indeed replied Joe.
"They meant to, then," said Dora. "Milly,


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the young ladies by their unprovoked assault. Joe
Martin hardly knew what to say. It was a trying
place for a boy to be put in, to have four young
ladies see him receive a blow from another boy.
He had acted rightly and bravely, but it was hard,
after all, and all four of the girls understood it, for
they at once began to try to find something else
to talk about. He talked, too, and did not say a
word about the Lang boys, but he was glad to get
away, in a minute or so, and go toward home. As
he went, he thought deeply, and at last he said to
himself, resolutely: "I wont say a word to the other
boys about it. If those fellows try it on again,
though Yes, I '11 join the boxing class to-morrow."


f 1
.' ;.' ---' "- ^i.

I.I


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S ." r "


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THE CORONATION OF THE MAY-QUEEN. [SEE PAGE 804.]


did Mr. Ayring put one of them on your list for
something on the platform? "
I think he did, but it wont be there long."
"Not even if Mr. Ayring insists upon it! said
Belle, emphatically.
"If he insists," said Milly, "he will have to find
another queen. I wont have anything to do with
it, if the Langs have."
"Nor I." It sounded as if the other three girls
must have practiced that "nor I," they all said it
so nearly together.
Brad and Tom had not gained popularity with
VOL. VIII.-5I.


He was already a member of the gymnasium,
but he had been waiting for his muscles to come
up" before going further.
"It would look as if I wanted some kind of
revenge, if I stirred up the rest against them. No,
I '11 keep it a secret." That was a good intention,
but Joe was an unthinking young gentleman.
Four young ladies had seen it happen, and talked
about it all their way home, and yet it was to be
a secret" from the other boys !
Jack Roberts heard of it at supper, and so did
Pug Merriweather; and Dora Keys told Andy


8oi


!* .- 0i ,








802 SALTILLO BOYS. [AUGUST.


Wright, when she met him near her own gate, and
Sarah Dykeman almost forgot her dignity in call-
ing Otis Burr across the street to tell him. Mr.
Hayne's whole school knew all about it before nine
o'clock next morning.
"It wont do, boys," said Charley Ferris,
solemnly, at the noon recess. "We must see
that the peace is preserved."
"Had n't you better elect me constable?" said
John Derry. "Andy will do for police-justice, but
I 'm the man for constable."
"I 'm another," exclaimed Charley. "Elect
me, too. You can help me if I need it, John."
There was a good deal of indignant talk about
it, all that day, among the Park boys, but nothing
in particular could be done.
The next day was Friday, and nobody took any
note of the fact that John Derry had somehow lost
his interest in marbles. It was not until he mounted
the platform, and began to read his essay on The
shape of Hendrik Hudson's Boat," that his friends
noted' the strips of black court-plaster over the
knuckles of his right hand. The essay began with
an assertion that it was the first thing of the kind
he ever did, and it ended with an expression of
regret that the world had forgotten how to build
ships which would sail sidewise, or any other way,
just as well as "bows on."
That was paper day for the four members of
the Ramblers' Club, but none of them had said a
word to the others as to the subject of his "leader."
That was where the fun came in, for each of them
had written an account of their doings along the
shore of Lake Oneoga. Each in turn read his view
of it to the end, and it was curious enough that
the same set of facts could be made to sound so
differently when told by four different persons.
The number of the "wild-fowl" killed, however,
and their weight, and the size and value of the
"new kind of short-eared, long-tailed rabbit,"
came out most strikingly in the Sfy, for Jeff Car-
roll had done his best. He had actually gone to the
dictionary for the Latin names of every animal,
and even the sandpipers sounded large.
Will Torrance had a good deal to say about his
dog, and the terror of Otis Burr when the Irish-
woman called him to account for her ducks, but he
cut the narrative short to make room for a double
allowance of poetry.
Otis and Charley each recalled sundry items
which the others had left out, particularly their
meeting with the small boys and Mr. Hayne.
On the whole, the other editors of that day's
"papers" had to give it up in favor of the
Ramblers' Club, who described real adventures.
On the close of school, as they reached the side-
walk, Otis Burr soberly remarked to John Derry:


My young friend, will you tell me what ails
your hand ? "
Court-plaster."
"Why so much of it?"
"I 've been keeping the peace. It was last even-
ing I kept the peace with Brad, and I told him to
tell Tom I should be looking for him. I said the
whole school would be looking for both of them,
for a week or so. They wont be around this end
of the Park ALL the while. Brad wont, and I don't
think Tom will."
John Derry was not the "model boy" of the
school, but he was by no means the unpopular one
that night. All the smaller fellows felt safer,
somehow. Not a boy of them would have walked
around a square to avoid meeting Brad or Tom.
The peace had been well kept, in a peculiar way,
and was not likely to be broken again.
If any information concerning what had hap-
pened reached the ears of Mr. Hayne, he made no,
remarks whatever about it to the school.

CHAPTER XI.

THE MAY FESTIVAL.

THE great event of the May Festival was now
drawing so near that the young people of Saltillo,
even those of them who did not expect to take
part in it, were able to talk of -little else.
"It will come off next Monday evening, Will,"
said Charley Ferris, after school, on that last Fri-
day of April. "It's of no use for us to think of
doing any rambling, to-morrow."
Come around and look at my chickens, then.
Bring Jack with you, if he'd like to come."
"I will. Have you any new ones?"
"Yes, and a dozen broods of young chickens.
I don't feel like much rambling, myself. .I was
stiff and sore for two weeks after I went into the
gymnasium, and it 's just beginning to work off so
that I 'm limber again."
Professor Sling says you 're getting along first-
rate; but I can beat you climbing."

The Queen and her court met, that evening, for
a grand rehearsal, and Fanny Swayne won a good
deal of commendation by coming to help, with
Belle Roberts and some older young ladies.
As for Jim, his ill-nature over his defeat seemed
to have disappeared; but the other Wedgwood
boys did not mix much with Mr. Hayne's scholars.
Charley Ferris was as good as his word, on Sat-
urday, and Jack Roberts came with him.
"Will," said Jack, smiling at the home-made
hennery, if I 'd known what a hen-coop you had,
I'd have been around to see it before."


802


SALTILLO BOYS.


[AUGUST,






SALTILLO BOYS.


"You can laugh, Jack; but is n't that game
rooster a beauty ?"
"Splendid Where 'd you get him ?"
I raised him. He 's a pet. Come here,
Dandy! "
He stooped and whistled a low, coaxing whistle,
and the proud, handsome game-cock they were
admiring stepped daintily forward to pick some
bits of cracker from his master's hand.
Look at his comb and wattles, and his long
tail-feathers. Did you ever see a prettier black
and red? See those spurs-slender and sharp as
thorns from a thorny locust."
"Do you ever let him fight ? "
"What, him? Do you suppose I want a pet of
mine all cut up and pulled to pieces? No, sir!
I keep him apart from the rest."
Dandy must have known they were talking about
him, for he stepped back and flapped his elegant
wings, and gave them a shrill, ringing crow.
Just then a man's head and shoulders appeared
over the fence of the next yard. The man said:
I say, Will, have. you seen my Dominica
rooster? He got out of his coop this morning."
"No. We've just got here. I'll take a look
for him. Hello What 's that? I declare, Mr.
Englefield, it 's your rooster."
"Dead as a herring cried Jack Roberts.
That was the sad fact.
The poor, misguided bird had heard the game-
cock crow, and had flown over the fence to see
about it, and it had taken but a minute to settle
the matter.
"I 'm sorry, Mr. Englefield," said Will. "We
must make the fence higher."
He was a next-door neighbor, and he was, like
Will, an earnest fowl-fancier, but his flushed face
showed that his patience was tried, just then.
"That's a dangerous fellow of yours, Will. I
can't have my best fowls killed in this way."
"It was your Dominica's own fault."
"But he had no chance."
"Yes, he had," said Charley; "he had a tip-
top chance to stay on his own side of the fence."
That 's so," said Jack, with a merry laugh.
"He was fairly killed, Mr Englefield. I 'd eat him,
if I were you."
Mr. Englefield's temper had not risen high,
and he saw that the argument was a little in favor
of the boys.
Will handed him his dead favorite, and again
said: I 'm real sorry.i"
Why don't you cut the spurs off that fellow? "
So that when your roosters fly over they can
kill him? No, sir They shall stay on him."
Mr. Englefield made no reply, and turned away.
Will Torrance had several other breeds of chick-


ens, and he was very proud to show them, too:
The Poland top-knots, with their feathery crowns;
the tall Cochin-Chinas and Shanghaes; the pert
little Bantams, with more strut and sauciness than
the game-fowls themselves; the domestic-looking
Dominicas, and some fine-looking "mixed breeds,"
that Will declared were such good layers." All
were exhibited in turn, including the broods of
young chicks, and it was noteworthy with what
pains the young fancier had provided that each
family should have its own "house and grounds."
It was a capital amusement for any boy, but Jack
r.-.g..ii remarked: "I can't afford it. What
a pile of money it must cost you "
"Money? Why, Jack, these coops give me
about all the pocket-money I need. Cost? They
pay their own way. Do you suppose I don't make
any use of the eggs and chickens ?"
I never thought of that."
"I 've kept a strict account ever since I began,
three years ago. All that Father gives me is this
part of the yard."
Before that discussion of the chicken question
was finished, it looked as if Jack and Charley were
going straight home to build coops of their own,
especially for game-fowls of the hard-fighting kind.
It was a help to them all day, but by Monday
morning every minor question was swallowed up in
the interest of the great and only one.
It 's all the fault of two men, Andy," remarked
John Derry.
What two men, John ? "
I can't say which is most to blame for this.
Alfred Tennyson wrote the 'May Queen,' and put
old Ayring up to it. He 's the worse of the two.
The rest of the blame is Ayring's."
However that might be, Mr. Ayring felt that he
had a heavy load on his shoulders that evening,-
a whole festival." He had managed such affairs
before, but it was his wish that this should surpass
them all. Everybody who entered the hall felt
compelled to say that it did.
The hall itself was no bigger than formerly, and
there was not room for the thinnest man in Saltillo
to crowd in, by the time the band began to play
the opening music of the celebration.
No, the hall was no bigger, but there was more
in it-more flags, more flowers, more evergreens,
more brass band, and, what was most important of
all, more enthusiasm.
The Park boys and girls had won the queen, to
be sure, but there had been "court officers"
enough invented and appointed to secure the good-
will of all the Wedgwood influence, besides the
good-will of the young ladies of Madame Skin-
ner's Seminary, and of other social circles.
"It is huge," remarked Jeff Carroll, "but


803







804_ SATIL BOS AUUT


Milly's father would be a bankrupt in a week if all
her attendants were on day's wages. Somebody
ought to count them, when they come out. Jim
Swayne can't blow a trumpet, though, and one of
the band-men will have to blow it for him."
The trumpet was tremendously blown, as Jim
marched upon the platform, with a flag in his
hand, to announce, as first herald," the approach
of Her Majesty, the Queen of May. He was fol-
lowed by other heralds and marshals, spreading
themselves to the right and left, and these by a
lot of paper-winged fairies," of tender years,
whose business it was to strew flowers in the path
of the Queen.
Then the band struck up a great rush of music,
and the curtain behind the platform was pulled
aside, and there stood Milly Merriweather, not yet
crowned, but ready for it, and scared almost out
of her wits by the brilliant scene before her, and
the feeling that everybody was looking at her.
Courage, Milly," whispered kind-hearted Sarah
Dykeman. "Walk right on. We '11 carry the
train."
She stepped forward, and as she did so, the Park
boys set the applause going in a fashion that
drowned the music entirely. Very modest and
pretty looked Milly, and her pretty maids of honor
carried her train very gracefully.
Then came young "ladies in waiting," and
"pages," and more fairies," and Milly began her
opening speech. It was very short, and the
moment she finished it, Mr. Ayring waved his
hand, and everybody on the platform began to sing.
This, also, was done in a way that did credit to
the music teacher.
When it ended, everybody tried to hold still
and listen, for it was understood that the Queen
of the Fairies was coming to do the crowning.
She did not fly in, but walked very gracefully
from behind a curtain at one side of the platform.
Jim Swayne was the only boy who had known
the secret of that performance, and it was now the
turn of the Wedgwoods to start the applause.
Fanny Swayne did look admirably well as a
fairy queen, and she spoke her address to her
" mortal sister so distinctly that it could be heard
all over the hall.
Then Milly Merriweather bowed her head, and
her dark tresses were crowned with a tastefully
woven chaplet of roses, to find which had given
Mr. Ayring some trouble.
There were more music, and another song by
the older boys and girls, with a rousing chorus
for the little people to join in, and then the
Queen of the Fairies presented the Queen of May
with a beautiful scepter, and gracefully vanished,
after a bow to the audience, in another grand


burst of music by the band and of applause from
the Wedgwoods.
She vanished across the platform in a way that
compelled Belle Roberts to say, when she met her
behind the scenes: Fanny, I 'm proud of you !
It was splendidly done."
"Thank you for it, then."
Thank me?" said Belle, inquiringly.
"Why, Belle, I was determined to do my part
as well as you did yours last year, if I could."
That was frank and honest, but they both turned
at once to listen, through the curtain, to Milly's
"coronation speech."
She had so far recovered her courage and her
voice that she made herself distinctly heard, and
when she waved her flowery scepter and sat down
upon her very flowery throne, Mr. Ayring was in
ecstasies. For once he was sure he had managed
to please everybody, by taking great pains to have
everybody please themselves.
There were more music and more speeches, and
more singing, and any quantity of applause, and
then the Queen arose and made her "farewell
address," and waved her scepter, and the grand
May Festival came to a triumphant conclusion.


CHAPTER XII.

DISPUTED GROUND.

THE week after such an event as the May Festi-
val was likely to be a somewhat quiet one. Even
the Park boys failed to see the need of any more
excitement right away. Marbles, too, were losing
a little of their interest, and Andy Wright re-
marked: You '11 all get well, boys. I think it '11
have to be something else, next." *
"I know what," replied Charley Ferris. It 's
about time for kites and base-ball. Phil Bruce
says nobody will object to our having the ground
in front of the City Hall, now and then."
Phil Bruce was one of the best ball-players in
the school, and his father was a lawyer, so that it
was supposed he knew what he was talking about.
Still, it seemed something like a venture, and the
actual trial of it was postponed until Saturday.
"That spoils the Ramblers' Club again,"
growled Will Torrance. "I '11 have a ramble a
week from Saturday, if I have to go alone." He
could not bring himself to miss that game of ball,
however, seeing where it xwas to be played; and
he and the rest practiced every day, after school.
'" There may be some of the Wedgwoods look-
ing on," said Charley Ferris, "and it wont do to
give them a chance to say we 're a lot of muffs."
"We '11 give them a match game, some day,"


804


SALTILLO BOYS.


[AUGUST,








SALTILLO BOYS. 805


said Jack Roberts, but we're not up to the mark,
just now."
There was, to tell the truth, nothing scientific
about the manner of playing base-ball in Saltillo
in those days; nor anywhere else, for that matter.
The game was still a useful and healthy amuse-
ment, with no "professional nines to spoil it and
bring it into disgrace.
Andy. Wright, also, advised practice, before he
left for home on Friday afternoon, and he was
hardly gone before Charley Ferris remarked:
I 've found out about Derry and Brad Lang."
"Have you? How was it?"
"All Brad's fault, of course. He's bigger than
John, and mistook him for a member of the Peace
Society. I saw Brad yesterday."
How did he look? "
Peaceful as a sheep, but there 's a little blue
around his eyes yet. He and Tom staid away
from the Festival."
There was a strong and manly sentiment among
the Park boys against fighting, and every one of
them was glad to know that John Derry had not
" picked a fuss" with even Brad Lang, much as
they were pleased with the result of John's "peace-
making."
By ten o'clock on Saturday morning, nearly the
whole school was hard at play in front of the old-
fashioned brick building which still served Saltillo
for a city hall.
The boys had no interest in the building itself,
only in the wide, gravelly open square in front of
it, which they had taken possession of for their
game of ball. It was a little cramped, to be sure,
if any "heavy batting" should be done, but it was
the best place they could get without going out of
town. They had not been permitted to get at
work without a foreboding of trouble, to come.
Nobody could tell how Pug Merriweather had
picked up his news, but he had told Jack Roberts,
in a sharp whisper: "The canal-boys say they 're
coming around. One of them is the chap that
stole my cocoa-nut. Buffalo Jack's coming."
That was bad tidings, if true; but Pug's news
did not always come out correctly, and the game
went right along.
Hardly any of the Park boys had. ever seen
"Buffalo Jack," but they had all heard of him.
He was all the more to be dreaded because there
was a mystery about him. It was well understood
that he was a bad, rough fellow, who would prob-
ably grow worse instead of better every day, and
who was already a member of a fire-company and
went to a political club. Nobody could say if he
ever went to school.
He was a fighting character, too, and there was
a vague impression that he and his comrades were


out all night every night in the year, and must,
therefore, be fellows of terrible muscle.
Some of the Wedgwood boys had been on the
ground watching the play, and Jim Swayne had
been asked to join, but he refused quite positively.
"He 's their best catcher," said Phil Bruce;
"but he can't pitch a ball like Andy Wright."
It was a great comfort to have got on to within
half an hour of noon without any sort of interrup-
tion, and Pug's news would have been a good
thing to laugh at if he had not suddenly scurried
around a corner with a fresh lot of it.
"Jack, they 're coming! They 're just back
yonder!"
"Who are coming? "
"Buffalo Jack and all of them! You '11 get
pounded now !"
"Play away, boys!" shouted Jack, manfully.
"We '11 mind our own business."
He was catching, and it was Will Torrance's
turn at the bat, when the roughs came, Buffalo
Jack heading them.
To be sure, there were only eight ragged, ill-
looking, vagabondish youngsters, of from fourteen
to sixteen or seventeen years of age; but they
swaggered enough for the crew of a privateer.
There was almost a superstitious feeling among
the Park boys that all of those who looked rough
must be rough, and that fellows with dirty hands
and faces, who used bad language, must be un-
usually strong, for some unknown reason.
Will Torrance saw Buffalo Jack making straight
for him, and he felt that he was no match for such
a desperado.
Any "trainer" of men or horses, however,
would have shaken his head over it. He would
have considered Will's good habits, constant exer-
cise, gymnastics, boxing, fencing, and the various
little matters about wrestling, and the like, which
he had been learning from Professor Sling.- He
would also have considered the bad habits of such
a fellow as Buffalo Jack. That worthy called out:
"We 're goin' to want this 'ere ground. Give
me that club; Jake, you get the ball."
Charley Ferris knew, at that moment, in which
of his own pockets he had put the ball.
It was a trying moment for Will Torrance, as he
stood face to face with the vicious-looking leader
of the canal-bank roughs. He felt sure of a beat-
ing, unless he should give up his club. Even then
he would probably have to "run for it" afterward.
There was no time for thought or parley, for
Buffalo Jack was raising his fist, ominously.
"Jack Roberts, take care of that club "
It went quickly to the ground behind Will as he
spoke, and in an instant he and Buffalo Jack were
" clinched," before a blow had been struck.


805


SALTILLO BOYS.







SALTILLO BOYS.


Will had done a wise thing in his sudden deter-
mination; for the other boys on the ground-
roughs and all-at once resolved to look on and
await the results of that wrestle.
Buffalo Jack was strong, but Will was almost
astonished not to find himself thrown at once; so
was his antagonist at not being able to throw him.
Tug,- tug,- strain,- pull,- change hands,-
twist about. It was a pretty equal match for about
two minutes, but training began to tell, then.
Will was getting stronger all the while, and the
blood in his veins was beginning to boil angrily,
for Buffalo Jack hardly ceased the utterance of
threatening, coarse, profane abuse of him. He
would have been glad, too, of a chance to strike a
blow, but it was hard to find one.


the ground in that way, but Buffalo Jack came
right up, off his feet and over, losing his hold as
he came, and down he went on the hard, gravelly
soil like a log of wood. It must have been a
very heavy fall, for the thrown rough lay almost
still for a moment, and when he got up it was slowly
and with a perceptible limp.
"Try it again? asked Will, with an effort at
politeness. Does any other boy of your crowd
want to try it ?"
That was enough for fellows of their sort.
Their best man had been overthrown in three
minutes, by the watch, and that by a lighter,
shorter fellow than himself.
Buffalo Jack slowly got up and swaggered off,
rubbing himself here and there.


THE DEFENCE OF THE PLAY-GROUNU.


There was a peculiar lift over the hip which
Will had labored hard to pick up from Professor
Sling, and he how thought he saw a chance to
try it. I '11 give him all there is in me," he said
to himself, "if he pounds me for it afterward."
A twist, a sudden turn of his body, and Sling's
lift" worked to a charm.
Will had no idea how much he could raise from


"That's where the ground hit him," remarked
Otis Burr, and Phil Bruce shouted, triumphantly:
Hurrah for Will Torrance! I did n't know it
was in him."
Will had not known it either, and had hardly yet
recovered from his surprise over his unexpected
victory.
No fight, no violence, no submission to tyranny;


8o6


[AUGUST,









all because the fellows who were minding their own lesson for the Park boys, and every bit as good a
business had not flinched from defending their one for the "canal-bank roughs."
rights. They had not said a word in reply to It was now very near noon, but it seemed a point
threats or abuse, but their man at the bat" had of honor that that game should be played out.
instantly closed with his enemy. It was a good And it was.
(To be continued.)


DAME TOAD.

BY FLETA FORRESTER.


DEEP, deep down, in a dizzy old well,
Once on a time did some little toads dwell,
Though just how they came there, I'm sure I
can't tell.

Perhaps, in a hurry, the old mother toad
Jumped carelessly, somehow mistaking the road,
And fell, with a plump / to this dismal abode.

And, finding herself with a whole set of bones,
Had made, of the crannies and chinks of the
stones,
The best home she could for her four little ones.

As well as their space and discomforts allowed,
They grew up to be quite a chirk little crowd;
Of which old Dame Toad was exceedingly proud.

For Poppet, and Skip, and Kercreak, and Delight,
Had their skins just as brown and their eyes just
as bright
As though they had always lived up in the light.

At last, in a frolic, Skip daringly tried
To hang on the bucket and get a free ride
Up, up, to that unexplored region outside.


The others looked on, and they saw how 't was
done,
And all were determined to mount, one by one,
To that glimpse of blue sky, with its beautiful sun.

The farmer, he scolded as toad after toad
Came up in the bucket, instead of the load
Of splashing, cool drink that the deep old well
owed.

Though dizzy and faint, as it came to the top,
Each toad hurried off with a skip and a hop,
Until, under a wall, they all came to a stop.

And there they took breath, and then, all in a
row,
They sat joining hands, and they croaked a great
"Oh!
How different this is from our quarters below! "

Next day, Mother Toad, feeling lonely and sad,
Traveled up in the bucket, and made them all
glad
By hopping in, too. What a welcome she had!

Now, under the steps does this family dwell,
And just how it happened, I 'm sure I can't tell;
But they never went back down that dizzy old well.


807


s88x.1


DAME TOAD.









STEPHEN AND THE WILD BIRD.

STE-PHEN was a small boy, who had al-ways lived in a cit-y where there
were no spar-rows, as there are in ma-ny towns and cit-ies; and Ste-phen
had on-ly seen birds that were shut up in ca-ges. Some of the ca-na-ry
birds in his moth-er's house, when their cage door was o-pen, would hop out
and sit up-on his fin-ger. Ste-phen was kind to them, and nev-er fright-
ened them; so they were not a-fraid of him.
When he was five years old, his moth-er took him into the coun-try to
stay dur-ing the hot weath-er. One morn-ing he was walk-ing by a grove
of trees, and, on a low branch, he saw a beau-ti-ful lit-tle bird. Ste-phen
whis-tled to it, and held out his fin-ger for the bird to come and hop up-on
it; but the bird flew high-er up the tree, and, al-though Ste-phen whis-tled
a-gain and a-gain,. it would not come. Then Ste-phen thought that per-
haps the bird would rath-er sit on a branch than on a boy's fin-ger; so he
broke off a long twig, and held out the leaf-y end to the bird.
"Come, come, lit-tle bird," he said; and he of-fered it a crumb of
cake. But the bird would not come, and, when Ste-phen held the branch
high, it flew to a tree be-yond a brook. Ste-phen went to the edge of the
wa-ter and looked at th"e bird. "What a strange bird!" he said; "it does
not like cake, and it will not come to me."
Then he went to the house, and told his moth-er all a-bout it; and she said:
"The bird was a-fraid you might hurt him if he should come near you."
I nev-er hurt birds. Why should this one think I would hurt him? "
"He thought you were like those men and boys who catch birds or kill
them when-ev-er they can," said his moth-er. If peo-ple did not in-jure
these lit-tle creat-ures, or try to catch them, they would not be a-fraid of us.
In some coun-tries, which men have sel-dom vis-it-ed, the birds are tame,
and will not fly a-way when a man comes near. Even in towns where
there are ma-ny birds, and where peo-ple are not al-lowed to dis-turb
them, the lit-tle creat-ures be-come ver-y tame. At first, birds were not
a-fraid of boys and men; but, af-ter peo-ple be-gan to kill and catch them,
they be-came ver-y wild, and they have been so ev-er since."
"Then the birds think that all men and boys are a-like?" said Ste-phen.
Yes," said his moth-er, ex-cept-ing those birds that have been tamed,
and taught that there are some lit-tle boys who are al-ways kind to them,
and will not do them in-ju-ry."
"Would it not be a good thing," said Ste-phen, "if we could be-gin all


808


FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.


[AUGUST,






FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.


o-ver a-gain, and if ev-e-ry man and boy would be kind to the birds, so
that they all would be tame ?"
"Yes," said his moth-er, "it would be well in ma-ny ways, if we could
be-gin all o-ver a-gain; but, as we can not do that, you and I must try to



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"l ,,
-----" ", -- -' ;' 3 ,,' i .



,' ,' ,1' ,, i : '. '' I






.- I..
-r"






t'.-,
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be as kind as pos-si-ble to the dumb creat-ures a-bout us, so that they may
find out, if they can, that all the peo-ple in the world have not grown
cru-el. This is all we can do to-ward be-gin-ning o-ver a-gain."


809


i88X.]







JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


Y. .. IA
No"


J _J JACK-IN-T-HE-PULPIT.


TREAD lightly this summer, my friends, or,
rather,,look before you step. If I were the Deacon,
I 'd carry the idea into a deal of useful talk for
your benefit, and tell you of all sorts of moral and
mental ways where it 's best to tread lightly. But
I do not mean that; I am thinking of my friends,
the Ants. They are a hard-working, industrious
class of society, never intending the least harm;
and yet I cannot tell you how often their wonderful
under-ground houses are trampled upon and broken
in by thoughtless feet.
There is no harm in kneeling on paths and by-
walks, and watching them at work; but if you '11
please be careful where you step, your Jack will be
much obliged.
I 've a host of other tiny friends which I 'd like
to recommend to mercy, but to speak for one is to
speak for many. All my youngsters need is a hint,
and the same feeling that spares the Ants will guard
the others.
Now for a few words about

THE CRIPPLING BROOK.
DEACON GREEN told some bare-legged little
boys one day, in my hearing, that he had noticed
a singular circumstance while they were wading in
the big brook by the school-house. The Little
School-ma'am, he said, had called it a "rippling
brook," but for his part he was inclined to call it a
"crippling brook," since it seemed to break the
boys' legs as soon as they fairly stood in it.
Now, the Deacon is a truthful, straightforward
man. What did he mean by this, boys?

DO YOU BELIEVE IT?
HERE is a startling question from a Canadian
friend. But it may be that, on looking into the


matter, you will discover some facts that have es-
caped little Snow Bunting. If so, don't forget to
send me word about them.
DEAR JACK: I heard a girl read from a book, some days ago,
that the Niagara Falls were once seven miles farther down the
river than they are at present. Now, dear Jack, do you believe that?
I have my own opinion of that book, but as you know a great
deal, I thought I would consult you about it. Why, I am just from
Canada myself, and I heard nothing about the matter.
SNOW BUNTING.
A SINGING MOUSE. *
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: We live near Newark, New Jersey.
One day Mother sent for an old table, which was "up-garret," as
our cook says. When the table was dusted off and placed in Moth-
er's room, we heard a faint little song like that of a timid canary. As
the song seemed to come from the table, we opened its drawer, but
found nothing. Then the son- sounded forth sweet and clear, but
still faint. We listened and listened, and finally Mother pulled
the drawer entirely out, when, there in its far corner, cuddled up in a
little ball, we found a live mouse,-a real singing mouse! It was
quiet enough for a while, poor frightened little thing! but it grew
tame in a few days, and began to sing again at odd moments. It
was not just "pe-ep pe-ep!" but a real, real song, like a bird's,
only not so long or so loud. He did not live many weeks, though we
cared fbr him as kindly as we could; and when he died we buried
-..,. ;.. r'..: .-,' ]j, ,nd my brother wrote "A SWEET SINGER" on a
st...-.:.. ... ... u for a head-stone. You can print this letter, if
you choose, for it is true. Did ever you hear of such a thing, dear
Mr. Jack? I am your friend, EDITH C. M.
WAVERLEY, June 14, 188I.

Yes, Edith, your Jack is well acquainted with a
charming little singing-mouse, and he has heard
of others. The dear Little School-ma'am says she
once read an account of a singing mouse, named
Nicodemus, that made friends with a caged canary.
The bird and mouse even sang duets together.
She says the mouse's song was as sweet, clear, and
varied as the warbling of any bird, but that it had
a tinge of sadness. Bless her! Likely enough
the tinge of sadness was in her own'heart, for who
could help pitying a poor little wingless mouse with
the soul of a bird !

DOLLY'S OMELET.
HERE is something from our friend S. W. K.:
Lucy had heard her brother read that in some part of Africa, the
natives make a fine omelet in an "untroublesome" way, as she
expressed it. They break a hole in the shell of the ostrich-eggat the
small end, put in salt and other seasoning, stir all into the egg with a
stick, then set it in hot ashes-the embers heaped to the opening in
the shell-until the egg is cooked.
Some one had given little Lady Lucy aweewhiteegg, smaller than
Mrs. Bob White lays. Lucy decided to make it into an omelet for
Dolly Cornelia. She measured the salt for it on Dolly's thumb; put
in three specks of pepper, and a piece of butter the size of the blue
in Cornelia's eye. She stirred with a broom-straw, bidding Dolly
watch how it all was done. "You might be a housekeeper yourself,
some day," said the little mother.
With an inch-wide shovel, a mound of warm ashes was made on
the stove-hearth, and there the wee egg was put to roast. It was
served on a plate the size of a ginger-snap, and set before the staring
Cornelia. After a while, Lucy ate the omelet, and reported that
Dolly liked it very much indeed.

WEATHER WISDOM.
I AM told that a certain wise man, who is called
"the clerk of the weather," can tell pretty surely
if it will be warmer or colder, wet or fair, for a few
days ahead; perhaps he can. But I know many
a bird and insect that knows quite surely what the
weather will be, and that provides beforehand
against storm and heat and cold.
I have. heard, indeed, that a wonderful man
named Henry Thoreau said, if he should wake from


8io


[AuGcusT,







JACK-IN -THE-PULPIT


a trance in the midst of a New England swamp, he
could tell by the appearance of the plants what
time of the year it must be, and not be wrong by
more than ten days. Well, Thoreau perhaps could
have made good the gentle boast, for he knew
almost all that one man could know about Nature
in New England, and he kept a book in which he
wrote, for every day in the year, the names of the
flowers that, according to what he had observed,
ought then to be in bloom.
But I wonder what Thoreau would have said
if he had waked from a trance in the middle of this
last spring? I think he would have been puzzled;
and so, too, he might have been had he lived in
the year 1816, in every month of
which there was a frost, and which is
called "the year without a summer."
Yet Jack does n't believe that in
either of these periods the birds and -
insects were puzzled at all about the --
times and seasons.

CHINESE SKILL IN METAL-WORK.
DEAR MR. JACK : The letter you showed to -
us in your July budget, about wonderful glass- -
mending," reminds me of a fact recorded in a
book as true. If true, it certainly proves that -
the Chinese have great skill in metal-working.
Those dishonest men in China, who are most
successful in making false money, produce pieces
which look, feel, and weigh so nearly like the
good money that the people find it almost im-
possible to tell the difference. And so the
Chinese Emperor actually gives pensions to these
wonderful counterfeiters; that is, he pays them
handsome yearly incomes, as bribes to induce
them not to make false money !
Truly yours, F. M. LEE.

SPIDERS AS SERVANTS.
YOUR Jack used to think that
every tidy housekeeper had a strong
objection to spiders, and made it a dil, i.- L.,:h
down their webs when found in-doors. E' r ..1.: ..I
my birds has been telling me that, on -..i ..4 it..:
West India Islands, the tidiest housek.-.:l .:..,l.II
n't be without spiders on any account i in1 ,
a human dwelling there, the faithful (! .,I II': i.-
hard at work trying to free the house iuiii clsa-
greeable insects. They know just what they have
to do, and they do it without being told, so they
are respected, and valued as good servants. In
fact, their usefulness is so well known that in almost
every market these many-legged "household-
helps may be seen for sale.

LIVING PITCHERS.
DOWN beside a shady pool that glimmers in the
marsh sits a curious family. You can see in the
illustration what they look like. They are living
pitchers, each formed of a purple-tinged leaf, with
strong ribs and purple veins; and from the center
of the group rises here and there a long stem, car-
rying on its top a nodding purple blossom.
The pitcher has a flaring mouth, or lid, which
never closes, but on which is spread some sweet
gummy stuff that attracts flies and insects; and
down the middle at the outside is a sort.of frill, or
wing. The leaf keeps always about half-full of a


liquid resembling water, and, inside, it is covered
with short hairs that point downward. When an
insect falls into the pitcher, it soon is drowned, for
the liquid stupefies it, and the bristles prevent it
from climbing up and out. After a while, the
body of the insect disappears, for the leaf digests it.
The Sundew, also, digests or eats animal food;
and so, too, do several other plants, including that
queer one called "Venus's Fly-trap," which has
leaves that close like a rat-trap on any flies that
brush against the hairs lining their inner surfaces.
By the way, there was a lady in New Jersey who
kept one of these fly-traps as a curiosity. She got
it from North Carolina, its native country; and she


i-,l,- .il l. .r ,t" |.,,: ..... *, ''
ucc.c, LUcrcl, adrl
uncooked beef. One
day she put her finger on the bristles, just to find
out what would happen. Snap went the trap, and
gripped her closely. Then came a prickly feeling,
then a sharp pain, and, at last, a racking ache that
made her take away her finger. But she said she
did n't believe the poor insects who get caught feel
much pain, for, no doubt, they die at once.


A MOTHERLY ROOSTER.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: After reading Lizzie H.'s letter, which
you showed to us in the March number, I thought I would write
to tell you and her about a rooster belonging to a neighbor of ours.
He is a very large, black, and handsome bird; the man who owns
him bought some little chickens, that had been hatched by machinery,
and, just for a whim, he gave them to this rooster. To his great sur-
prise, the stately bird at once adopted them, taking them under his
wings at night, and clucking and scratching for them with all the
motherly care of an old hen that was used to the business.
If any one goes into the yard, he will run with the chicks to his
coop. He never leaves them nor injures them by stepping upon them.
He has raised a good many families of little chickens which have
become nice large fowls, some of them as large as himself. Now,
let some of your readers see if they can muster such a rooster.-Your
constant reader, J. E. W.


x881.]


811








THE LETTER-BOX.


THE LETTER-BOX.


CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that, between the ist of
July and the i5th of September, manuscripts can not conveniently be
examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who
desire to favor the magazine with contributions will please postpone
sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I was very much interested in your direc-
tions, in the May number, for making bubbles; but I want to tell
you how I make them sometimes. I take an empty spool, and rub
it on the soap; then dip it in the water-but only a very little-and
blow through the other end, and you will find you have as nice a
bubble as though you used a pipe.-Your constant reader,
MAIE STEVENSON.

OUR thanks are due to Messrs. George Bell & Sons, for their
courtesy in allowing us to reprint, in our Treasure-box of English
Literature," two poems by Bryan Waller Procter.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought you would like to have a letter
from a little girl in South Australia, so I send you one. By the
pictures in ST. NICHOLAS I see you have much snow in America;
the ground is sometimes covered with snow and ice. Perhaps some
of your readers will be surprised when I say that I never saw snow
in my life, and it is not many times that I have seen ice. We have
it very hot here at Christmas time, but Santa Claus comes to Aus-
tralia in spite of the heat, and brings us little children nice presents.
I am told that when the people here are up, you are in bed; this
seems very curious to me.
We have lots of stars in our sky; more. than you have, I think.
You can't see the Southern Cross. Adelaide is a lovely city, with
gardens everywhere, and nearly every day we can play in the open
air. I do like South Australia so, but I should like to see snow, and
to see the boys snow-balling.-Yours truly,
ELSIE BONYTHON, of Adelaide, South Australia.


No DOUBT, hundreds of our young friends have read with great
interest the accounts of Lord Nelson's victories on the Baltic and the
Nile, and many another thrilling description of fierce conflicts on the
sea. And all who like such narratives would do well to read
the article printed in Scribner's Mont/ly for June, entitled "An
August Morning with Farragut."
Apart from the exciting incidents which it narrates in fine style,
the article has great value to all young students of their country's
annals, as a bit ofhistory, since it is written by Lieutenant Kinney,
who himself was upon the same vessel with Admiral Farragut, and
an eye-witness of the scenes which he describes.
We can heartily commend this paper, moreover, as a just tribute
to a noble-hearted and patriotic American admiral whose wonderful
victories have made him known to the world as one of the greatest
naval commanders that ever lived.


DEAR EDITOR: I thank you for the ST. NICHOLAs. I should n't
think Kitty Brown's mother would try her so many times, when she
forgot to shut down the piano-lid. She told her she would try her
only just once. Kitty's mamma told her a wrong story; I think
she did. She gave her some dough and some mince-meat,-enough
to make two pies; and Kitty never shut the piano-lid at all, and left
it open five times,-to see the monkey, to see her friends, to see her
papa- No; that is three times. How will Kitty know, after this,
what her mamma will do? HELEN TIBBUT, six years old.
You are quite right, Helen, in thinking that Kitty's mother tried a
wrong plan for curing her. And this is one of the lessons that
the story was meant to teach.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought that I should like to tell the girls
of a party which took place here, in Florida. The children who
attended it were between the ages of six and thirteen. They came early
in the afternoon, dressed plainly in lawns, percales, or piqu6s, played
heartily, and went home before dark. It was arranged and carried
out entirely by little girls. They selected and learned the speeches
and songs, dressed the dolls, arranged the throne, and went to the
woods to get two May-poles, which they brought home, planted


firmly in the ground, twined with gray moss, and decorated with
strips of gay-colored cambric.
About sixteen girls and boys were invited, and I think I have
never been at a happier party, nor witnessed a prettier scene.
The throne was placed under an arch formed by the meeting
branches of two large pink oleanders in full bloom, and on and
around it were grouped more than thirty dolls, dressed to represent
the Queen of May, the Four Seasons, Ceres, Iris, Cupid, Morning,
Evening, several Maids of Honor, Flora with her flower-girls, and
Titania with her fairies. The throne was covered with gray moss,
and decorated with palms and flowers.
The children stood around the throne and recited the speeches for
their respective dolls, and sang two or three May songs. Then fol-
lowed the dance around the May-pole, and refreshments of cake,
lemonade, and strawberries, served out-of-doors.
Hoping that this true account of the way some children in the
Land of Flowers enjoyed themselves may interest other children, I
remain truly your friend, FLORIDA."

LITTLE CooKs."-Ella G.'s letter interested us very much. In
our opinion, Miss Parloa's "New Cook-Book," published by Estes
& Lauriat of Boston, is the one you need. It is simple, exact, and
tells just the things that girls and young housekeepers must learn, if
they wish to avoid expensive mistakes.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My Aunt Lulu had a cat once that liked
music. Whenever Lulu played on the piano the cat would come and
sit on the steps and I-s en. Once Lulu left the piano open, and by
and by she heard a funny sound on it, and when she came down-
stairs and found the cat, she was surprised. The cat would jump
upon the keys from one side and run across and then jump upon
the other and go back again. HARRY MACCORD (10 years).


THE following item, copied from the New York Tribune, may
interest those of our readers who remember the beautiful engraving
of Mr. Millais's painting of The Princes in the Tower," which was
published in ST. NICHOLAS for February, 1880:
Mr. Millais's well-known picture of the "Princes in the Tower"
has just been sold in London for nineteen thousand dollars. The
artist has lately had an unpleasant accident. As he was leaving the
Levee, a footman, in hastily shutting the carriage-door, jammed
two of the fingers of Mr. Millais's right hand, crushing them
severely.

EDNA McDowELL.-The little German girl's words to Cora, in
the poem "Babel," printed in the May number, mean, Oh oh! I
can not understand you! To the French girl, she says: "What
does she [Cora] mean? When you know it, I should be glad to
hear." The French girl says: "Really! really!" and then: "I
know that it is not polite; will they think ill of me for laughing? "


THOSE of our readers who are interested in the article upon
"Flat-boating," in the present number, as well as those who have
read the many admirable stories which Mr. Frank R. Stockton has
contributed to this magazine, willbe glad, we feel sure, to read the
following extracts from a private letter recently received from him:
DEAR : I want to tell you of the very pleasant trip we had
down the Indian river. I will not insult you by telling you in what
part of Florida the Indian river is, but I have been obliged to inform
nearly every other person of my acquaintance, to whom I spoke on
the subject, that it is a long arm of the sea running down the east
coast of Florida, and separated from the ocean by a narrow strip of
land, sometimes not over a hundred yards wide. The river varies in
width from six miles to thirty yards. Great portions of its shores are
entirely unsettled, and much of its scenery is wild and novel.
When I determined to take my holiday last March, Mrs. Stockton
and I, with three young friends,-a lady and two gentlemen,-went
up the St. John's River nearly its entire length,-a very picturesque
and interesting trip,-and then proceeded overland to Titusville, on
the Indian River. Here we chartered a sail-boat for our journey to
Jupiter Inlet, the southern limit of the river. The boat was the
largest we could get, but was not large enough to accommodate the
whole party at night; so we took with us a tent. Our entire trip
occupied three weeks. We were six days going down the river,
stopping every night to camp. At Jupiter Inlet we made a perma-


812


[AUGUST,







THE LETTER-BOX.


nent camp, where we staid ten days,-putting up the tent-a rude
palmetto hut-and permanently mooring the boat. We were within
half a mile of the ocean, and the river at that place is one of the
finest fishing-grounds on the coninent. We fished two or three
hours every day, and had splendid sport. We caught, altogether,
over seven hundred pounds of fish, many of the fish being very
large. The finest-principally blue-fish and bass-we picked out
for our own eating, and gave the rest to a man at the light-house,
who was salting fish for market. The light-house was about a mile
from our camp, across the river, and was the only habitation within
twenty or thirty miles of us. Our style of living was very primitive,
but we laid in a good stock of provisions at Titusville, and enjoyed
our life exceedingly. Our boatman was a good cook, and his little
boy was general assistant, and handed around the cups and dishes.
For the whole of the three weeks, we lived almost entirely in the
open air (the cabin of the boat being open at one end), and yet
none of us took cold, and all thrived exceedingly.
The water of the river was salt, making its influence perfectly
healthful, and we had fine weather during the whole trip, being
visited by two short gales only.
There were more interesting incidents than I want to bore you
with now; but you can imagine what a delightful time we had.
Some of the scenery on the river, especially in "the Narrows," was
wonderfully tropical and beautiful. On our return-trip, we stopped
at a little solitary store, to replenish part of our stock of provisions,
and our boatman told us we had better get here all that we wanted,
for it was sixty-five miles to the next store. This will give you an
idea of how the country is "opened up."
When we finished our charming journey, we regretfully gave up
our open-air life, and returned to the habits of civilization.


FOR the benefit of little readers who may be troubled by the text
of Proud Prince Cham," as given on pages 766, 767, 768, and 769,
of the present number, we here reprint the verses in plain Roman
letters:
PROUD PRINCE CHAM.
BY EVA L. OGDEN.
There was sobbing loud and weeping in the palace
Of the great Prince Cham;
The tail feathers of the royal stork were drooping,
Like a withered palm.
The poor Prince would n't eat his birds'-nest jelly,
Though it was so nice,
And he could n't bear to touch his hot-roast chicken,
Or his fresh-boiled rice;
For the heir of all his kingdom, who had come that morning,
Was a oh, dear me!
When it should have been a prince, was nothing but a princess,
Brown as she could be.

Prince Cham had wept till a pile of soaked handkerchiefs
Lay at his side,
And had even lost his self-control, which was
So much his pride;
When he stopped, and called for his fan and umbrella,
And rose up to go
To the cave of the conjurer down in the.hollow
Of Mount Lo Ko Fo.

That conjurer was a cunning man:
When he walked he carried a ten-fcot fan,
And over his head flew a frying-pan
(Instead of a handsome paper umbrella)-
A frying-pan that was black and yellow;
And when he wanted to ride anywhere,
He rode on a butterfly right through the air,
While 'round him and over him floated a pair
Of butterflies, too,-
One red and one blue.

Mighty man!" thus spoke Prince Cham,
While he bowed quite lowly,
Man of might, who can do things
Both holy and unholy,
In my palace is a princess, b... i-r I.-,. 1 .it to-day.
Conjurer! I do beseech thee, .. I .: i.: 'Il ... away,
And in the place of it bestow on me,
The lord of Much Chum Fee,
A healthy, handsome little prince, who shall always look like
me!"
The conjurer rose,
And, uncurling his toes,
Called for his flying steed;
And away through the air,
Followed close by the pair
Of butterflies bright, did lie speed.


When he reached the palace and saw the princess brown,
He took his fan in one hand and on the floor sat down.
He set six tops a-spinning and he drank a cup of tea,
And then he drew a polygon that was just as big as he;

Then he lit a fire in the frying-pan,-
The pan all black and yellow,
And he rose and took the princess,
And borrowed Cham's umbrella;
And while the smoke grew denser,
And the tops began to whir,
Right up and out and through the roof
Flew off the conjurer!

All up and down his kingdom, the land of Much Chum Fee,
The great Prince Chain goes wandering as sad as he can be;
For he 's lost his mighty conjurer, and the heir he had is gone,
And he can not find them anywhere, though he looks from sun
to sun;
And still he mourns his discontent, the source of all his woe
(For "half a cup is better than no tea at all," you know);
But he 'll never get his Princess back, for very far away
The conjurer has hidden her in the city of Bombay,
Where she spins the tops of magic and she rides the butterfly,-
The wonder still and envy of all the passers-by.


MRS. R. C.-In response to your wish to know of a good book
of Kindergarten movement songs for your little ones, we would name
Mrs. Clara Beeson Hubbard's compilation, lately published by
Balmer & Weber, of St. Louis, You will find replies to nearly all
of your queries in the preface to this work by Miss Susan E. Blow.
The compiler claims that the book is the result of years of careful
trial and selection. The songs having been tested practically,
besides being very simple and effective, they are of just the sort that
must interest children.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In the May number, I read the story of
"Little Totote," and I send this as a kind of sequel, hoping you
will like it.
LITTLE TOTOTE AGAIN.
One day, when Totote was eating her bread-and-milk, she said:
"Nurse, I don't like to stand on my head any more. I think it
makes me feel too dizzy. But I like to look in my gold spoon,-
only I do not want to be on my head."
"Oh, is that it?" said Nurse. "I am afraid little Totote will
have to give up looking into her spoon, if she does not like to stand
with her head downward."
But Totote shook her pretty curls, and said she would talk to her
kitty about it. So she took Kitty in her arms and showed her the
spoon, and said:
Kitty, Kitty, tell me how I can look in my gold spoon and not
have to stand on my head."
Kitty looked very wise, and was very still. She did n't even mew.
But pretty soon she put up her soft little paw on the table, and
played with th 11 i, ..,..til she turned it over.
And-what .. 1 '.i There was Totote, with laughing
eyes and dancing curls, in the back of the spoon, and right side up,
too!
"Oh, Nurse! she cried; "now, I can look in my spoon and
not have to be on my head, after all, unless I choose! I can do
both ways whenever I like. I thought Kitty would know about it."
And Nurse was very much surprised, indeed, to see that this was
really true. W. P. B.

THE many boys and girls who have read that interesting story,
"Elizabeth; or, the Exiles of Siberia," and also the accounts of the
Empress Catherine's ice-palace, certainly must think of Russia as a
cold country. And almost all of us associate it more with wintry
landscapes of ice and snow, than with such scenes as the one
depicted on page 748 of the present number. But you who have
studied geography do -not need to be told that Russia is one
of the largest countries on the globe; and, excepting the strange-
looking harness on the horse, and the queer costumes of the workers,
this harvest-scene is almost exactly like haying-time in our own
fields. Probably this sketch was made in some part of Southern
Russia, which, as many of you know, contains, perhaps the richest
wheat-fields in Europe.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have a kitten, and her name is "Fun."
She is very fond of my baby-doll. She will lie on her long dress all
day, and she will lick her face and put her paw around her.-Your
friend, BERTHA.


188x.J


813







THE LETTER-BOX.


[AUGUST,


told that, by careful management, you can get a red, white, and blue
cocoon."


AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION.-FIFTH REPORT.
WE invite your attention this month to something brighter than
butterflies, sunnier than flowers, and busier than bees. Let us con-
sider the girls and boys who have thus far joined the army of the
"A. A." More than a thousand strong, they are scouring the
prairies of Kansas, climbing the foot-hills of the Sierras; discovering
beautiful caves in the Rocky Mountains; analyzing magnolia-
blossoms in Mississippi; killing rattlesnakes on their own door-steps
in Colorado; studying geology in England; gathering "edelweiss"
from the slopes of the Alps: wandering, by permit, through New
York's Central Park; spying out specimens from the mica mines of
Vermont: picking up tarantulas and scorpions in Texas; searching
ior the flowers and insects of the Argentine Republic; gathering
algea and sea-shells on the coast of Florida; growing wise in the
paleontology of Iowa; arranging the variously colored sands of the
Mississippi river in curious bottles; in Massachusetts, anxious to
know whether "the limnantiemum of our waters has roots "; send-
ing from Chicago to learn about the "center of buoyancy"; hold-
ing field-meetings in Illinois; celebrating the birthday of Professor
Agassiz (May 28) in New Hampshire with a picnic and appropri-
ate exercises; giving entertainments, and realizing "enough to buy
a cabinet and have thirty dollars over to start a library" in Oregon;
making wonderful collections in Virginia; enjoying the assistance
and listening to the lectures of eminent scientists in Philadelphia;
enrolling scholars and teachers in Connecticut and Rhode Island;
determining to become professors in the District of Columbia; writing
fraternal messages from Canada; selecting quartz crystals from the
hot-springs of Arkansas; discovering geastrums on Long Island,
and everywhere learning to use their eyes in detecting the beautiful
in the common, and the wonderful in the before despised.
Does solitude check-enthusiasm? -Listen to a voice from the wild
shore of Lake Worth, in southern Florida:
"We have no church, school, or stores within seventy miles of us.
We have a mail only once a week, and the last twelve miles the
mail-carrier carries the mail on his back; walking along the sea-beach.
We have no good books of reference on natural history, but shall be
able to collect numbers of interesting specimens, both from sea and
land. I have found a great many algae on our coast."

Mr. Edward Moran, one of our most diligent members, has the
excellent habit of making daily notes of what he finds of interest.
Some of them read as freshly as a page from White's Selborne," a
book which all boys and girls should read. He says:
"I came across a common reddish-brown hairy caterpillar, curled up
under the bark on a stump. I warmed him for a moment on my
hand, and he woke up. I took him home, and soon he commenced
building his cocoon out of his own hairs. After he had finished, I
cut off the end of the cocoon and put a little cotton-wool in the box.
He took to it very readily, and patched up his cocoon with it. I am


Nothing has been more gratifying than the perseverance which the
members of our different chapters manifest. Their interest grows
continually. Here is the way the secretary of the Auburn, Ala.
chapter writes:

"Our chapter began in February with five members, and now
contains fourteen. More than half of our members are girls-good,
honest, hard-working girls in the society. They do not wait for help
from their parents, but do the work themselves. The boys are on
the alert from one meeting to the next, and come laden with curiosi-
ties of all kinds. The attendance is always good, and the reports
are full of interest. We are very anxious to have a badge. We are
always going to collect two specimens of each kind, so as to send
you one. We shall strive to make this the banner chapter of the
Association."
Such letters as these stir up in us very warm feelings toward our
friends in the "sunny South," and when we add to them hundreds
of a similar tenor from the far West, East, and North, we feel that the
young people of our country are full of noble and affectionate feeling,
and we are sure that a united study of the wonders of Nature,
created for us by our Heavenly Father, is drawing us all more
closely together in the bonds of a common brotherhood.

"Kansas is of much interest," we are told by a member of the
wide-awake Atchison chapter, as it is full of fossils and petrifactions.
Here ancient and extinct animals have roamed at large, and their
remains have been discovered."
We are now starting on our second thousand. We hope to mature
a more systematic plan of work before many months. Meanwhile,
press on. We intend personally to answer every letter; but occa-
sionally one writes and forgets to give his address, or fails to inclose a
stamp.
If you fail to receive a reply, write again. There are hundreds of
interesting things aching to be told. Just think of that chapter in
Lockport, N. Y., with a hundred members-and the badge discus-
sion-and --
Address, after September 15, x88i,
H. H. BALLARD, Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.
List of Additional Chapters.
No. of No. of
chapter. Name. Members. Secretary's Address.
67. New York (A)........... 6..R. W. Tailer, 12 E. loth st.
68. Grand Junction, Iowa (A). 5-.S. J. Smith.
69. Middlebury, Vt. (A) ...... 4. Miss Carrie S. Steele.
70. Phila. (E) ............... 50..A. A., 141 N. 2othst.
7. Grand Rapids, Mich. (A).. 4. Willie G. Allyn.
72. Needham, Mass. (A) ..... 7..Gilbert Mann.
73. Baltimore, Md. (B)....... ao..Miss Susie H. Keith, 76 M'd
ave.
74. Moorestown, N. J. (A).... 7. Miss Anna F. Thomas (Box
x15).
75. Fayetteville, Ark. (A) .... 5..F. M. Polhamius (Box og9).
76. East Orange, N. J. (B)... 12..Miss Florence Whitman.
77. Wilkesbarre, Pa. (A) ..... 9..Miss Helen Reynolds, care
Col. Murray Reynolds.
78. Washington, D. C. (B).... 6..Broc. Shears, 1236 6th st,
N. W.
79. Lockport, N. Y. (A) ...... oo..Miss Agnes McKae, care Col.
McKae.
o8. _.:ri,,- Ohio (A) ........ 4..D. F. Sarber.
81. '* .:1. I.1.:, N. Y. (A)..... 7..Miss E. Guernsey Bingham.
82. Brooklyn, N. Y. (B)...... ..Crowell Hadden, 69 Remsen
street.
83. St. Johnsbury, Vt. (A).... 7..C. D. Hazen.
84. Lowell, Mass. (A)........ o..W. C. Chase, It Nesmith st.
85. Leroy, N. Y. (A)......... 18..Miss Mary N. Lathrop, Gen-
esee Co.
86. Gloucester, Mass. (A)..... 7..Ralph S. Tarr.
87. Manhattan, N. Y. (B).... 7..Wm. T. Frohwein, 218 Stan-
ton street.
88. New York (C)........... 6..John R. Blake, 26 West i9th
street.
89. Hull's Mills, N. Y. (A).... 7..Miss Alice Brower, Dutchess
County.
90. Nashua, N. H. (B)....... 5..F. A. Wheat, P. O. Box 612.
91. Buffalo, N. Y. (A)........ 12..Miss F. F. Haberstro, ix
High st.
92. N. Cambridge, Mass. (A). 7..Fred. E. Keay.
93. Staunton, Mass. (A)..... 6..Miss Harrie G. White.
94. Atchison, Kan. (A). ..... 7..James R. Covert, P. O. Box
685.
95. Joliet, Ill. (A)............ 16., Miss Addie W. Smith.


814







THE RIDDLE-BOX.


THE RIDDLE-BOX.


ANAGRAIMMATICAL SPELLING-LESSON.
IN each of these examples, the problem is to arrange the grouped
letters so that they will form a word agreeing with the accompanying
definition.
x. Chhatteoo.-A pain.
2. Orreddnnoohd.-A beautiful flowering shrub.
3. Baannyssii. -An inhabitant of a certain African country.
4. Teellvaai.-To mitigate.
5. Oddcaanenn.-Attacked with heavy artillery.
6. Maggeennte.-Obligation.
7. linnottali.-Mode of entrance into a society.
8. Pooiinn.-Estimation.
9. Reepnnitt.-Related to the matter in hand.
to. Rooppuhhss. -A familiar chemical substance. M. c. D.


CROSS-WORD JINGLE.
IN mast, in fast, in last,
In under, but never in over;
In fling, in bring, in swing,
In mullein, but never in clover;
In boast, in roast, in toast,
In tourist, but never in rover.
Who can this jingle scan,
Will a holiday-time discover.


M. WELLS.


DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
THE primals and finals name a patriot who was executed in Great
Britain, in the early part of the fourteenth century.
CROSS-WORDS. I. An ornamental tree. 2. One of the United
States. The 3d should adorn the brow of the poet named in the
4th. The 5th is a State adjoining my second. The 6th washes the
shores of the 7th, which also is a State. ARCHIE AND HUGH.

CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.
My first is in lose, but not in find;
My second in melon, but not in rind;
My third is in thyme, but not in sage;
My fourth is in passion, but not in rage;
My fifth is in knife, but not in dish;
My sixth is in want, but not in wish;
My seventh in dog, but not in cat;
My eighth is in mouse, but not in rat.
When fresh and cool, my whole always
Is welcome on a summer day.
BESSIE VINCENT.

THREE WORD-SQUARES.
I. i. A POINT of the compass. 2. A great division of land. 3.
A country of that division. 4. To domesticate. II. 1. A title of
an emperor. 2. Nothing. 3. Artifices. 4. A fragrant flower.
III. i. Part of a foot. 2. An African river. 3. A tribe. 4.
Domestic fowls. ALLIE B.

HALF SQUARE.





i. In pumpkin. 2. An exclamation. p. Is used for illumination.
4. To mince and mix. 5. A Turkish official.

DROP-LETTER PUZZLE.
I. A-a-a-a. One of the United States.
2. -a-a-a-, A city of South America.
3. -a-a-a. A group of islands.
4. -a-a-a. A city of Cuba.
5. -a-a-. A city of Spain. LIZZIE D. FYFEE.

EASY DOUBLE DECAPITATIONS.
I. BEHEAD a weapon used in hunting, and leave a fruit; again,
and leave what Polonius bade Laertes "give every man" (Handlet,
Actr, Scene3). II. Behead to wink drowsily, and leave a division
of a chain; again, and leave a liquid in universal use. III. Behead to


upbraid, and leave frigid; again, and leave ancient IV. Behead circu-
lar frames turning on axes, and leave what it is bad to be "out at";
again, and leave certain wriggling animals. V. Behead a danger-
ous sea-monster, and leave to listen; again, and leave what Noah
left on Mount Ararat. VI. Behead a sluggish animal, and leave
two inches and a quarter; again, and leave to be indisposed.
VII. Behead calm, and leave to cultivate; again, and leave harm.
VIII. Behead that which, rolling, "gathers no moss," and leave
melody; again, and leave a whole. PERLY ADAMS.

CHARADE.
SPECIAL mention will be made of the names of those who send
their own original drawings embodying the answer to this charade.
Along my first I wandered far,
I heard the sea-waves lap the shore,
And wished my second were but near,
To blend his notes with Neptune's roar.
Eager to see my whole, I peered,
Through gathering dusk, on every side,-
When, suddenly, across my path,
Its fltting form I just described! Mt. c.D.

MYTHOLOGICAL DIAGONAL PUZZLE.


To SOLVE this puzzle: write down, in the order of the accom-
panying numerals, the names of the mythological personages repre-
sented in the upper and lower pictures. Each of the names has six
letters, and the letters of the diagonal, reading downward from the
upper left-hand corner, form the name of the Hindu ."God of
Waters," represented in the central picture.
AcROss.--. The lame artist-god. 2. The goddess of wisdom.
3. A marine divinity, son of Ocean and Earth. 4. The son of
Heaven and Earth. 5. A monster. 6. One of the Muses. DIAGO-
NAL: The Hindu god of waters. LAURA.


i881.]


815







THE RIDDLE-BOX.


WORDS WITHIN WORDS.
THE first word defined is found by beheading and curtailing the
word defined next. Example: Human beings, in auguries. A n-
swer.' Men-omens.
I. To give, in votes. 2. To expire, in a farewell. 3. To leave, in
a high court of justice. 4. To mislay, in a wardrobe. 5. To wander,
among tropical fruits. 6. To suspend, in small pieces of money. 7.
An insect, in a poem. 8. A girl, in a flag. 9. A garret, in open-work.
to. An island, in soft woolen goods. B.

CHANGED HEADS.
FIRST take a certain animal,
That 's very good to cook,
In fact, you 'll find the recipe
In many a cookery-book.
Now change my head, and if you 're brave,
You '11 see what you should do,
If well assured that in the fight,
Your cause were just and true.
Change me again, and then be sure
To take me ere you go
Where danger lurks, on land or sea,
From accident or foe.
Again (when changed), I 'm often seen
Upon your supper-table;-
Aye, in your bedroom, kitchen, hall,
Your parlor, or your stable.
Again, and you are dining
On viands nicely done,
Or in the omnibus you may
Be paying just for one.


Again, and me you now may drive;
Although I 'm not a span,
But you might call for this, perhaps,
To aid you in your plan.
And now a quite uncommon thing
You 'll have, if once again
You change my head, for you will see
I 'm difficult to gain.


AUNT SUE.


RHOMBOID.





ACROSS: x. A conspiracy. 2. Having a tone. 3. The mount-
ain daisy. 4. Neater. 5. An under-ground canal.
DOWNWARD: I. In acorns. 2. A preposition. 3. A morass.
4. In a short time. 5. The surname of an American Revolu-
tionary general. 6. A small river fish. 7. Novel. 8. The begin-
ning of repentance. 9. In preparation. F. s. F.

TRANSPOSITIONS.
I. TRANSPOSE natives of a certain European country, and form a
range of mountains; again, and form ecclesiastical dignitaries;
again, and form a fortified town of France. 2. Transpose a strip of
ox-hide, and form hoar-frost; again, and form deep mud; again, and
form an Arabian prince. 3. Transpose certain animals, and form
weapons; again, and form a planet. 4. Transpose the people, and
form a country of Europe;-5. Transpose tools used by joiners, and
form : .7,. that country. 6. Transpose a military chief, and
form: J. i... again, and form a laborer in the harvest-field. D.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JULY NUMBER.

SOLUTION OF FOURTH OF JULY MAZE. PATRIOTIC DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals: Fourth of July.
Finals: Independence. Cross-words: i. Fungi. 2. OrioN. 3.
UpbraiD. 4. RenegadE. 5. TurniP. 6. HugE. 7. OmeN. 8.
FeuD. 9. JokE. To. UrchiN. so I.:.t 12. YankeE.
MONUMENT PUZZLE. I. G. 2. .- ROd. 4. ARm. 5.
C AGo. 6. KEg. 7. OWn. 8. TAg. 9. ASI. o1. AHa. Ii.
0 9SIn. 12. ANd. 13. SuGar. 14. ExTol. 15. SchOlar. x6.
l ChaNcel.
EASY CENTRAL ACROSTIC. i. Bin. 2. ANt. 3. ADd. 4.
PEt. 5. APt. 6. VEx. 7. ANd. 8. ADo. 9. JEt. 10. ENd.
xx. ACt. 12. FEe. &3. ODe. 14. BAr. 15. AYe.
J Two CROSS-WORD ENIGMAS. I. Fire-crackers. 2. Holiday.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. "We have met the enemy and they are
ours-two ships, two brigs, one schooner, and one sloop." Commo-
dore Perry to General Harrison.
t EEASY CONCEALED CITIES. i. Belfast. 2. Carlisle. 3. New-
port. 4. Oxford. 5. Bath. 6. Pisa. 7. Dover.
S MYTHOLOGICAL DIAMOND. I. D. 2. PAn. 3. DaNae. 4.
NAg. 5. E.- RIDDLE. Pennyroyal.
CHARADE. Mandate.
PICTORIAL CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. Answer, Powder.
Take an ordinary pea, the first in the Pod;
< Then the next in the pod may be second;
The first of the worst may now be used;
Then the last in the poD be reckoned.
S I The extremes of an EaR will finish a word
That in my initials you often have heard.
TRANSPOSITIONS. i. Garner-ranger. 2. Dirge-ridge. 3.
Stage-gates. 4. Shrub-brush. 5. Sauce-cause. 6. Lumber-
%. [ rumble. 7. Islam-mails. 8. Dusty-study. 9. Scale-laces.
o1. Rouge-rogue.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA FOR WEE PUZZLERS. Israel Putnam.

THE names of solvers are printed in the second number after that in which the puzzles appear.
ANswERS TO MAY PUZZLES were received, too late for acknowledgment in the July number, from L. Gibson, Jr., 8-Margaret B.,
and Beatrice C. B. Sturgis, Montpellier, France, or.
SOLUTIONS TO PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER were received before June 20, from Jessamine, 2--Louise Butler and Elizabeth
Starr, --F. L. Long, i-Bella A., i-Geo. A. Gillespie, --E. R. Conklin, 2-Rosa L. Witte, r-Lillian V. Leach, --Lizzie H. D.
St. Vrain, 4- "Punch and Judy," 3- Eugene M., --Chester Whitmore, x-Willie O. Brownfield, 4-L. and M. Williams, T-Sarah,
Peter, and Jake, -- Mabel Thompson, 2- Grace Van Vranken, 2- Geo. Brown, 3- E. L. Gould, i- Otter River," 3- M. S. Reamer,
-Irving Jackson, 4-Henry C. Brown, all-Bessie Taylor, 3-Edith McKeever and Carrie Speiden, 5-Mamie Mensch, 3-Lizzie D.
Fyfer, 3-Lillie and Etta, 3-Marion Wing and Daisy Vail, 2-C. Hutchinson, i-John Blanchard, --Sallie Wiles, ii-"Castor and
Pollux," 6-J. Ollie Gayley, 2-Bertha, Herman, and Charles Elsberg, 4-Jack R. Wrenshall, 2-C. F. and H. L. B. Jr., 5-H. P.
Whitlock, i- Henry D. Penfield, Jr., 2- Freddie Thwaits, o--Edward Vultee, all- Cornie and May, 4- Mignon," 3-J. Douglas
Brown, x-Rose Raritan, X-Alma Spear, 2-Harriet L. Pruyn, 2-Florence G. Lane, 2-Lulu G. Crabbe, 5-Lewis P. Robinson, 2-
Fred. C. McDonald & Co., i--Robert A. Gaily, 6- Letitia Preston, 4-Bumpsy Gardner, 3-Lulu Clarke and Nellie Caldwell, 3-Alice
Maud Kyte, 5-Herbert Barry, all-"Buttercup and Daisy," 7-Lalla E. Croft, --Bertha S. Giddings, i-Emma A. Bryant, i-
"Queen Bess," all-Sarah G. Ward, 2-"Alass," 2-J. S. Tennant, 9-Tom Spear, 5-Florence Leslie Kyte, so-Verna and Uncle
Fred, 3-Hester Powell, 4-Dycie Warden, 8-Archie and Charlotte, 5. The numerals denote the number of puzzles solved


816


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