Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Little Miss Muffet and her...
 How Tom Wallen went aboard
 Aramantha Mehitabel Brown
 The song of the fairies
 How to make dolls of corn-husks...
 The story of the three sons
 The sad little lass
 Phaeton Rogers
 The dragon-fly's benefit
 The Boomeo Boy
 Dorothy's ride
 St. Francis of Assisi
 In nature's wonderland; or, Adventures...
 Mary Jane
 A curious trap
 Ducky daddles
 Little Dora's soliloquy
 Perpetual-motion James
 The St. Nicholas treasure-box of...
 Tessa, the little orange-girl
 A song of the corn
 The race and the rescue
 Master Hyrax
 Alice in wonderland
 Saltillo boys
 Carlo, Jane, and me
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: St. Nicholas.
Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 8, no. 11. September 1881.
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00105
 Material Information
Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 8, no. 11. September 1881.
Series Title: St. Nicholas.
Uniform Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 8, no. 11
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: September 1881
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals.
Literature for Children
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00105
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
    Little Miss Muffet and her spider
        Page 817
        Page 818
        Page 819
        Page 820
        Page 821
    How Tom Wallen went aboard
        Page 823
        Page 824
        Page 825
        Page 826
    Aramantha Mehitabel Brown
        Page 822
    The song of the fairies
        Page 827
    How to make dolls of corn-husks and flowers
        Page 828
        Page 829
        Page 830
    The story of the three sons
        Page 831
        Page 832
    The sad little lass
        Page 833
    Phaeton Rogers
        Page 834
        Page 835
        Page 836
        Page 837
        Page 838
        Page 839
        Page 840
        Page 841
        Page 842
        Page 843
    The dragon-fly's benefit
        Page 844
        Page 845
    The Boomeo Boy
        Page 846
        Page 847
    Dorothy's ride
        Page 848
        Page 849
        Page 850
    St. Francis of Assisi
        Page 851
    In nature's wonderland; or, Adventures in the American tropics
        Page 853
        Page 854
        Page 855
        Page 856
    Mary Jane
        Page 852
    A curious trap
        Page 857
    Ducky daddles
        Page 858
        Page 859
    Little Dora's soliloquy
        Page 860
    Perpetual-motion James
        Page 861
        Page 862
        Page 863
    The St. Nicholas treasure-box of literature
        Page 864
        Page 865
        Page 866
        Page 867
        Page 868
    Tessa, the little orange-girl
        Page 869
        Page 870
    A song of the corn
        Page 871
    The race and the rescue
        Page 872
    Master Hyrax
        Page 873
        Page 874
    Alice in wonderland
        Page 875
    Saltillo boys
        Page 876
        Page 877
        Page 878
        Page 879
        Page 880
        Page 881
        Page 882
        Page 883
        Page 884
        Page 885
        Page 886
        Page 887
    Carlo, Jane, and me
        Page 888
        Page 889
        Page 890
        Page 891
    The letter-box
        Page 892
        Page 893
        Page 894
    The riddle-box
        Page 895
        Page 896
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text





[Copyright, 1881, by THE CENTURY CO.]



" Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,
Eating of curds and whey:
There came a great spider, who sat down beside her,
And frightened Miss Muffet away."

SHE was not Mother Goose's Miss Muffet; she
was not even a relative.
I may as well tell you that, in the beginning, and
then you wont be disappointed. For I know that
we all are very much interested in that Miss Muffet.
Mother Goose was such a shrewd old lady! She
knew how to tell just enough, and not too much.
Some story-tellers would have informed us whether
curds and whey were little Miss Muffet's customary
diet, or an unusual treat, and whether they agreed
with her; just what kind of a bowl and spoon she
used, and who gave them to her; whether she had
her hair banged, and whether her little brother
wore copper-toed shoes; to say nothing of the
spider's whole family history, and whether he was
only prowling about in a general -way, or had
special designs on Miss Muffet.
And .when we knew all that, we should have no
further interest in little Miss Muffet, nor in the
spider. I am afraid we might even forget that they
had ever existed.
But now we all have an opportunity to set our
imaginations at work, and, if we are Yankees, we
"guess" who Miss Muffet was, and-where she
lived, and, especially, where she went when the
spider frightened her away, and whether she ever
came back to her curds and whey.
I do not profess to know any more than anybody
else about that Miss Muffet. As I said before, the
little Miss Muffet whose story I am going to tell
was no relation to her, whatever; and, as for the
spider, he certainly was not even a descendant of
Mother Goose's spider.
VOL. VIII.-52.

To tell you the truth, my little Miss Muffet's real
name was not Miss Muffet at all. It was Daffy
Crawford. No,-now I think of it, that: was not
her real name, neither! She was called Daffy,
because she had the yellowest hair that ever was
seen; and, as her mother had a fancy for dressing
her in green, she did look like a daffodil. The
first person who noticed this called her Daffodil,
and Daffy-down-dilly, and by and by it was short-
ened to Daffy, and everybody, even her own father
and mother, adopted it. They almost forgot that
she possessed such a dignified name as Frances
How she came to be called "little Miss Muffet"
will take me longer to tell; but I assure you I
know all the facts of the case, for I was well
acquainted with her, and I was, as you might say,
on intimate terms with the spider.
It was one summer, down at Dashaway Beach,
that Daffy met the spider.
She had been making mud-pies all the morning
with Tuny Trimmer and Jimmy Short-legs,-that
was not his real name, but they called him so
because he still wore knickerbockers, although he
was.a very old boy,-and with her own brother,
Sandy. Sandy and Jimmy Short-legs both felt
above mud-pies, as a general thing, but they were
down on the beach, and the tide was out so far that
they could not wade nor fish, and they had built
an oven of stones to bake the pies in, and made a
fire of drift-wood, so it was a more exciting amuse-
ment than the making of mud-pies usually is.
Daffy and Tuny were very proud of the com-
pany they were in. Sandy and Jimmy, besides
being boys, were almost eleven, and they did n't
very often condescend to play with girls. Tuny
Trimmer did everything they told her to, even to
taking off her stockings and shoes and wading into


No. II.


the mud up to her knees. She did not even rebel,
when, after the mud-pie making began to grow
monotonous, Jimmy Short-legs proposed to play
that her new Paris doll was a clam, and buried it
deep down in the mud.
Daffy took off her shoes and stockings, and got
down on all fours, and pretended that she was a frog,
so that Sandy could swallow her when he was being
a crocodile-though she did not at all enjoy having
him a crocodile, he made up such horrid faces, and
squirmed so. But when they wanted to play
Indian, and tie Lady Florabella, her wax-doll, to a
stake, and burn her up, while they danced the
Ojibbewa war-dance around her, that was too much
even for Daffy's accommodating disposition. She
held out against it stoutly, although they called her
a baby, and said girls never wanted to have any
fun. And Jimmy Short-legs, who read story-
papers, said Florabella would be like the Golden-
haired Captive of the wild Apaches." And when
Sandy attempted to seize Lady Florabella, and
make a martyr of her against her mamma's will,
Daffy snatched her away and ran.
She 's a homely old thing, anyhow Sandy
called after her. She is n't pretty enough to be
the Golden-haired Captive! And I '11 burn her
up in the kitchen stove when I catch her-old pink
silk dress, and yellow wig, and all! "
This very disrespectful way of speaking of Lady
Florabella excited Daffy even more than the fearful
You are a veryworse boy! she screamed, with
tears, "and I shall tell Susan of you, right off! "
But as Susan, their nurse, had accepted an invi-
tation to take a sail with an old sailor admirer, who
had appeared at Dashaway Beach in the character
of a fisherman, it was not easy to "tell her, right
off." The stones cut her bare feet, but Daffy ran
until she felt sure that Lady Florabella was out of
danger. Then she looked back to see if Tuny were
not coming, too. But alas, no! Tuny showed no
sympathy for her friend's griefs. And she evidently
preferred the society of those wicked boys. She
was even allowing them to dig up her doll, who
had been a clam, and tie her to a stake: Tuny's
doll was going to be the Golden-haired Captive !
I don't know how she can bear it! said
Daffy, giving Lady Florabella an extra hug at the
It was clear that Tuny Trimmer had not the
feelings of a mother. And such a beautiful doll,
too, with "truly" hair, and turquoise ear-rings !
I wonder what her Aunt Kate, who sent it to
her from Paris, would say! thought Daffy. I
don't believe she'll get another very soon."
What life would be without a doll, Daffy could
not imagine. She did not believe that she could

possibly endure it, so she determined to go on a
little farther, lest Sandy's desire for burning Gold-
en-haired Captives should be increased by that
one experiment.
She walked along until she came to the lobster-
boiling establishment -of old Uncle Jollifer. He
had been a fisherman all his life, and was rough,
and jolly, and kind. He called Daffy up to his door,
and gave her a very small boiled lobster, warm
from the pot. And with this under one arm, and
Lady Florabella under the other, Daffy wandered
on. It was not .,ir:-_.--,r..i to get out of Sandy's
reach that she went on now. It seemed like an
adventure to have gone so far by herself, and she
wanted to see how it would seem to go still farther.
She thought that, having come so far, she might
as well see how the world looked around the Point,
where she had never been. So she traveled on, out
of sight of the Ojibbewa war-dance-out of sight,
even, of Uncle Jollifer's lobster-factory.
At last she grew so tired and warm that she had
to sit down on a big stone to rest. She discovered
that she was hungry, too; so she cracked the shell
of her lobster with a stone, and began to eat it.
She was just remarking to Florabella that she
had never in her life eaten anything that tasted so
good, when, stretched out from somewhere behind
her, came a long, lean, black hand and arm, and
snatched a claw of her lobster.
Daffy screamed and ran, as was no wonder; but
she had gone only a few steps when she realized
that she had left Lady Florabella behind.
Poor Lady Florabella! had she escaped from
the Ojibbewa Indians only to fall into other dangers?
Daffy ventured to look back, although expecting
that long, lean, black hand to clutch her as she
did so.
No; there he sat, quietly devouring her lob-
ster,-the very longest, thinnest, raggedest, black-
est, and woolliest negro boy that ever was seen.
Now, Daffy was not at all familiar with colored
people, as her home was in a New England town,
where they were very rarely seen. But she was
very familiar with goblins, and gnomes, and imps,
and demons, because Susan, her nurse, knew an
inexhaustible stock of stories in which they figured;
indeed, if you might trust Susan's account, she
herself had enjoyed an intimate acquaintance with
them. And these interesting people were, accord-
ing to Susan, invariably black.
This apparition, who was calmly eating her
lobster,-with Lady Florabella lying across his
knees !-might be a negro. Daffy knew, of course,
that there were such people. She had heard all
about Topsy and little Eva; she had once seen an
old Dinah, who was a cook in a family where she
visited. He might be a negro, but it struck Daffy




as much more probable that he was an imp or a
It was horrible to run away and leave Lady
Florabella in his clutches; but, if she staid, he
would probably turn her into a white cat. Any-
body who had anything to do with imps and gob-
lins was always turned into a white cat in Susan's
So Daffy turned again and ran as fast as one
might be expected to run from the possibility of
becoming a white cat.
The negro boy ran after her, holding Lady
Florabella above his head, and shouting:
Hyar, Missy, aint yer gwine to fotch dis yere ?"
Daffy could not understand a word that he said,
but she had no doubt that he was casting a.spell
over her. The witches in Susan's stories always
repeated a mysterious jargon of words when they
transformed their victims into animals. She was
very much surprised, and drew a long breath of
relief, to find that, after he had repeated that gib-
berish three times, she was still Daffy Crawford.
There was not the least sign of white fur, nor
claws, nor whiskers, about her. Perhaps the
charm would not work. There might be a good
fairy who prevented it.
But he was following her, as fast as his long legs
would carry him, still shouting, and waving Flora-
bella wildly over his head. Perhaps he wanted to
"grind her bones to make his bread," like the
giant who was always saying, "Fee-fi-fo-fum" !
Daffy had come to a long pier, reaching down to
the water, and a little row-boat lay at the end of it.
Wild with fright, she ran down the pier and jumped
into the boat. It was only loosely fastened by a
rope, and Daffy untied it. Just one push she gave,
with all her little might, and away floated the boat
on the receding tide. By the time her pursuer
reached the end of the dock, a wide expanse of
water lay between it and Daffy's boat. He danced
about and gesticulated frantically. Daffy thought
he had gone crazy with rage and disappointment
that she had escaped from his clutches; and it
really did look like it. He had no boat, so he
could not follow her, and Daffy felt quite secure;
and, if she had only had Lady Florabella, she
would have been happy. She had not an oar, nor
a scrap of sail, and would not have been able to
use either if she had had it; so she was as com-
pletely at the mercy of the winds and waves as
were the Three Wise Men of Gotham, who went
to sea in bowl. But she was accustomed to going
on the water, and was not at all afraid of it. It
was a new sensation to be all alone in a boat, drift-
ing she did not know where; but I am afraid the
truth of the matter was that Daffy did not know
enough to be afraid. Susan's stories had filled her

mind with fears of imaginary dangers, but they
had had very little to say about real ones.
Suddenly her pursuer turned back, as if a new
idea had struck him. Daffy watched him out of
sight, feeling greatly relieved that he had gone,
but with her heart aching at the loss of Florabella.
He had gone off, with the doll thrown carelessly
over his shoulder, and, as long as he was in sight,
Daffy watched Florabella's beautiful golden curls
dancing in the sunlight. It was truly a pitiful
sight-Florabella carried off by a dreadful goblin,
and her mamma powerless to help her!
But, very soon, Daffy began to think that she
was not much better off than Florabella. The sea
was very rough, and the little boat pitched and
tossed so that it made her giddy; and now and
then a great wave that looked like a mountain-
would come rolling along, threatening to swallow
her up. She was very frightened, although the
great wave would only take the tiny boat up on its
broad back, in the most careful and friendly man-
ner, and, after giving it two or three little shakes,
set it down uninjured. When a wickeder wave
might come along, there was no telling; and
home was farther and farther away every moment.
At length, Daffy saw a little sail-boat bearing
down upon her. It was such a very tiny sail-boat
that, at first, she thought it was only a white-
winged gull.
A young man was lying at full length in the
bottom of the boat. He had on a velvet jacket,
and a red smoking-cap, with a gilt tassel, and he
was playing on a violin and singing as uncon-
cernedly as if boats could be trusted to sail them-
His song broke off when he caught sight of
Daffy, and he exclaimed, in a tone of great sur-
"Hello, little girl! How in the vorld did you
get here ?"
"Hbw do you do, sir? I came in the boat,"
replied Daffy, calmly, and looking at him with an
expression of great dignity.
She was very particular about politeness, and
she thought Hello, little girl! was a too familiar
greeting for a strange gentleman.
"I don't suppose you swam, although I did take
you for a mermaid, at first; but how do you hap-
pen to be all alone ?"
"Because there is n't an;, I:...I, itii me," replied
Daffy, coldly. She did n't mean to be rude, but
she did n't like to be asked so Mrany questions.
"Where is your another? Where is your nurse?
Where do you live ? HoW came you in the boat ? "
Daffy heaved a great sigh. He was such a man
to ask questions that she began to think she might
as well tell I.- I all about it.




I ran away from Ojibbewa Indians and a jet-
black goblin," she said.
"Wh-e-w! he whistled. That's about enough
to make anybody run away, I should think! "
He stared at her, in a perplexed way, for a
moment, and then he began to laugh.
Daffy thought it very rude of him to make light
of the dangers she had passed, in that way.
"Where are the Indians and the goblin?" he
The Indians-well, I think they've gone to get
their bathing-dresses on, by this time; and the
goblin-he was a truly goblin, as black as anything,
and his lips stuck out, and he winked his eyes
dreadfully-he ran away when I got into the boat.
But, oh dear! he took Florabella with him, and
I don't suppose I shall ever see her again."
"Is Florabella your sister?" asked the young
man, looking more serious.
"No; she is my dearest doll, and he will be sure
to shut her up in an enchanted castle, for a thousand
years, if he does n't cut off her head, like Blue-
beard's wives. Don't you think you could find
his castle and rescue Florabella, and cut off his
head? If you would, I would marry you, just
like the stories, and we should live happy ever
"Thank you; that is very kind of you!" said
the young man, but he threw back his head, and
laughed, as if it were something very funny, in-
stead of a very serious matter, as Daffy thought.
While they had been talking, he had fastened
Daffy's boat with a rope to the stern of his own.
It seemed to Daffy that he was taking a great
liberty; she thought he had better have asked her
"What did you do that for?" she asked him,
I am going to take you home, if I can find out
where you live. What do you suppose would
become of you, if I should leave you drifting about
here ?"
"I have been thinking that I should come
across our nurse Susan. A fisherman took her out
Your nurse Susan gone sailing with a fisher-
man? Well, they will never pick you up. He is
drowned. I know a song about it. I was sing-
ing it when I caught sight of you."
And this very funny young man began to play
on his violin, and sing this song:
There was a bold fisherman set sail from off Billingsgate,
To catch the mild bloater and the gay mackereel;
But when he got off Pimlico,
The raging winds began to blow,
Which caused his boat to wobble so that overboard he went.
Twinky doodle dum, twanky doodle dum," was the highly
interesting song he sung,
Twinky doodle dum, twanky doodle dum," sang the bold fisher-

He wibbled and he wobbled in the water so briny,
He yellowed, and he bellowed, for help, but in vain;
So presently he down did glide,
To the bottom of the silvery tide,
But previously to this he cried, "Farewell, Susan Jane!"
" Twinky doodle dum," etc.

"You see there is no chance of their picking
you up," he said, when he had finished. He is
"It does n't mean our Susan, nor her fisherman,
at all," said Daffy.
"Her name is Susan Jane, though! she added,
feeling a little perplexed.
But the young man laughed so that she knew he
was teasing her, and her pride was deeply wounded.
"It is impolite to laugh at people. I think you
behave very worse indeed," she said, with great
dignity. I should n't wonder if the goblin should
get you."
Even as Daffy spoke, an Indian canoe came into
sight, swiftly propelled by the long arms of the
goblin Daffy screamed with terror, and begged
the young man to take her into his boat.
But this very unsatisfactory young man only
"Is that your goblin?-that innocent-looking
little darkey? I should have thought you were too
brave a girl to be afraid of him!"
Daffy thought she was very brave, and she dis-
liked strongly to have her courage questioned.
Nothing disturbed her so much as to have Sandy
and Jimmy Short-legs call her a "'fraid-cat." (That
is a mysterious epithet, and not to be found in any
dictionary, but Daffy knew only too well what it
meant.) So, now, although she set her teeth
tightly together, and breathed very hard, she kept
perfectly quiet while the goblin drew his boat up
beside hers.
He was smiling so very broadly that he looked
all teeth; but it was certainly a very good-natured
smile. Daffy thought he looked like an amiable
goblin, but no such being was mentioned in Susan's
stories, so it was necessary to account for him in
some other way; and, after long scrutiny, Daffy
decided that he was probably only a colored boy.
And Florabella was sitting in state in his boat,
quite unharmed.
"Missy skeered ob me," he explained to the
young man. "She done cl'ar'd out, like a streak
ob lightning But I 's peaceable as a lamb, I is,
Missy. I would n't hurt a ha'r ob your head. I
could n't luff yer lobster alone, I was so dreffle
hungry. 'Pears like my insides was all holler.
But I 's gwine to get yer anoder lobster, and I 's
gwine ter car' yer home. And I done fetched yer
babby. Don't yer be skeered ob me, Missy."
Daffy could not understand all that he said, his
language was so very peculiar, but she understood




i85i.] AND HER SPIDER. 821

that he wanted to row her home, and although she
was not so much afraid of him as she had been at
first, she shook her head, decidedly, at that. Gob-
lins were sometimes very polite for the sake of
getting people into their power !
What is your name, and where do you live?"
said the young man in the boat, to the colored boy.
"Name, George Washin'ton 'Poleon Bonaparte
Pompey's Pillar, but dey calls me Spider, for short,
bekaze my appearance is kind ob stragglin', I aspects .
Whar does I lib? As you mought say, I resides
most eberywhar, and I does n't reside much ob
anywhar! Dat is to say, I trabbels. I worked in
a sto' in New York, but I was tuk wif misery in my
side, and de gemmen at de hospital dey said I 'd
die sure 'nuff, if somebody did n't fotch me inter
de country. So I done cl'ar'd out, in de night,
and fetched myself. As you mought say, I 's
residin' at de sea-sho' for my healf. I 's been
libin' out ob do's, sleeping' under boats and sich,
but jest at present I 's visiting' de Ingines, ober to
de P'int. Dey has pressedd de opinion dat dere
never was a tent big 'nuff for a Ingine and a nigger,
and I 'spect dey 'll be a-hintin' for me to cl'ar out
soon. Dey said niggers ought to stay in deir own
country, whar dey belonged, but I never belonged
nowhar, and nobody never wanted me, since I left
my ole mammy. Dey don't want to hire no skele-
tons ober ter de hotel, dey says, but no nigger
can't fat hisself up on raw clams, pertickerly when
he's got misery in his side. And dem low-down
Ingines will be hintin' befo' long, sure 'nuff. But
now, Missy, you come 'long ob me, and I '11 take
de bery best ob car' ob yer "
I think you had better go with him," said the
young man. "You see he is not a goblin, but a
very agreeable colored boy, and I am sure he will
carry you safely home."
"I like you better," said Daffy to the young
man-a statement which made Spider look sad.
"That is very flattering," said the young man;
"but my boat would have to go against the wind
to reach the beach that you came from, and it
might take until night, and your mother would be
dreadfully worried about you."
Even that argument failed to convince Daffy.
She was satisfied that Spider was not a goblin, but
she had a great objection to his complexion.
"To tell you the truth," said the young man,
impressively, "although I may seem very pleas-
ant, I really am an ogre. I have n't felt moved to
eat you, because I had several little girls for my
breakfast, but if I should once get you into my
boat, I should carry you home to my wife, who is a
very lean and hungry ogress, with a terrible appe-
tite for red-cheeked little girls! "
Daffy scrutinized him gravely. She did not be-

lieve that he was an ogre. She thought it probable
that he was teasing her. He was so unlike the
ogres that Susan knew about But there was the
awful possibility that he might be. There might
be a variety of ogre which Susan had never met.
Daffy got into the canoe. She clutched Flora-
bella tightly in her arms. It was a great comfort
to have her again, when she thought she had lost
her forever.
The young man in the boat took off his smoking-
cap to her very politely as the Spider paddled
away. Daffy responded only by a very distant and
dignified nod. Whether he was an ogre or not, she
did not at all approve of him. As he sailed away,
she could hear him playing on his violin, and sing-
ing about the fisherman and Susan Jane, and she
resolved to ask Susan, if she should ever see her
again, whether ogres were musical.
Spider paddled with a will; but Dashaway Beach
was a long way off. He entertained Daffy by stories
of de Souf," where he had lived when he was "a
pickaninny," before he strayed away from his "ole
mammy"; and Daffy-after she became accus-
tomed to his dialect found his stories almost as
delightful as Susan's. It was almost sunset when
Spider drew the canoe up the beach, at the very
spot where the Ojibbewa war-dance had been
And there was Susan, running frantically up and
down the beach, wringing her hands and shedding
floods of tears, because Daffy was lost! And San-
dy came running, and crying, breathlessly:
"You need n't tell on me, because I did n't mean
to burn up your old doll, anyhow! If you wont,
I '11 give you my Chinese lantern; and if you do,
I '11 drown your kitten as soon as we get home "
Daffy agreed to silence, on the proposed terms.
Sandy was not quite so bad a boy as he pretended
to be, and probably would not have drowned the
kitten; but Daffy felt that the risk was too awful a
one to run.
Then came Jimmy Short-legs, also panting and
breathless; and he said, with great emotion:
I thought you had gone and got drowned, with
my bean-slinger in your pocket! "
His face brightened very much when Daffy took
the "bean-slinger" out of her pocket and returned
it to him uninjured. Daffy heard that there had
been a panic about her, and that her father had sent
men in every direction to search for her. He, too,
came hurrying down to the beach when he heard
that she had come; and he hugged and kissed her,
as if he realized the danger she had been in; and
when she told him all about it,-excepting the
Ojibbewa Indian episode,-he seemed to think that
Spider was a good boy, and he took him up to the
hotel to supper; and on the hotel steps whom







THE "Amelia" was a coasting schooner, which,
in the early part of this century, plied between
several of our Atlantic ports. It was in the summer
of 1813 that she lay in the harbor of a little sea-
port town, to which her captain and most of her
crew belonged. Late in the afternoon of an
August day, she dropped down with the tide from
the pier, at which she had been taking in ballast in
preparation for a voyage northward, and anchored
some distance below the town, where she would be
obliged to wait until the tide rose sufficiently high
for her to cross the bar At the mouth of the harbor,
which was not passable for a vessel of the size of
the "Amelia," excepting at high tide.
While she was lying here, a boat with a man
and his wife and a load of fruit put off from the
shore; and, rowing up to the ship, the boatman
tried to open a trade with the sailors, who were
idly waiting for the time to set sail.
Among the crew was a young fellow named Tom
Wallen, who was about to set off on his second
voyage in the "Amelia." While the man with the
melons was offering his fruit for sale, an idea struck
I don't want any of that stuff," he said to him-
self; "but I should like very much to go on shore
with Jacob Hopkins and his wife. We sha' n't weigh
anchor for six hours at least, for the tide has n't
run out yet, and I should like to bid my old father
and mother a better good-bye than the one I gave
them a little while ago."
Tom had been in the town that afternoon, when
he heard that his captain did not intend to wait for
flood-tide before leaving the wharf, but would drop
down with the ebb to the end of the island opposite
the town, and, therefore, the crew must be on board
sooner than they expected. Tom had only time
to run down to the little cottage, some distance
below the town, in which his father and mother
lived, to bid them a hasty farewell, and to hurry
back to the schooner, to which his chest had been
carried that morning.
Those were war times, and Tom did not know
when he might see his old father and mother again,
and he had left them very much shocked and dis-
turbed at his sudden departure, for they had ex-
pected to have him with them all the evening.
Accordingly, he went to the captain, and stated his
case. He said that, as the vessel lay not far from
the cottage, Jacob Hopkins could take him ashore
in a short time, and that he would bring him back

long before midnight. This was the time they
expected to set sail, as the tide would then be at its
height, and the moon would have risen. The
captain was a kind-hearted man, and was well
acquainted with Tom's parents. After a little con-
sideration, he gave the young fellow the permission
he desired, and Tom, having speedily struck a
bargain with Jacob Hopkins, was rowed ashore.
Old Mr. and Mrs. Wallen were delighted when
their son popped in on them, and told them he was
going to take supper, and spend a couple of hours
with them. They had seen the ship at anchor
before the house, and knew that she would not go
over the bar before midnight; but they had not
expected that their son would get leave to come on
The evening passed pleasantly, and when Tom
took leave of his parents, about ten o'clock, he left
them in a much more contented state of mind than
when he had hurriedly torn himself away in the
afternoon. Tom's father went down with him to
the skiff, which Jacob Hopkins had left tied to a
stake near the house, and to which he had prom-
ised to return about this time, to row Tom back to
the vessel. But when they reached the skiff, no
Jacob was there; and, although Tom and his
father walked some distance toward the town, and
called loudly, they could find no sign of the missing
"It's too bad! said Tom. It's now half-
past ten, and I ought to have been on board by
this time. I don't see why Jacob should have dis-
appointed me in this way."
"I '11 tell you what we 'll do, Tom," said his
father. We '11 both get into the boat, and you
can row her over to the 'Amelia,' and I '11 bring
her back."
"No, indeed, Father cried Tom. I 'm not
going to let you row a mile over the harbor this
night. The wind is rising, and it is getting cloudy,
and I should n't want to be on board the 'Amelia,'
and think that you were pulling back home by
yourself through the dark. No, sir; I 'll take the
boat and row myself to the schooner, and then I '11
anchor the skiff there, and go on board. You see,
she has a long coil of rope and a grapnel, and old
Jacob can get another boat, and row over after her
in the morning. He ought to be put to that much
extra trouble for disappointing me in this way."
Old Mr. Wallen was obliged to confess that this
was the better plan, and he knew that his son could



row more quickly to the vessel if he had no one in
the skiff but himself.
So Tom bade his father good-bye once more,
and pulled away into the darkness. It is always

of the rising of the wind, and had gone to sea?
It would be a rash act, Tom rightly imagined, to
sail through that narrow passage, with the breakers
scarcely a hundred yards on each side of the vessel,



lighter on water than it is on land, and Tom knew
the harbor so well that he had no difficulty in row-
ing straight to the point where the "Amelia" had
But, when he had rowed some distance, he was
surprised on turning around to find that he could not
perceive the Amelia's lights.
"Why, where is the schooner? said Tom to
himself. And then he rowed with redoubled vigor.
But, before long, he was quite certain that the
"Amelia" was not on her anchorage ground.
She must have dropped down farther, around
the end of the island, before the tide turned," he
said to himself. That may have helped a little,
but it was a mean trick for the captain to do, after
letting me go on shore."
But Tom did not hesitate. He laid to his oars
again, and pulled around the island. He could
see no signs of the ship, but supposed she was
lying directly inside the bar, which spot was con-
cealed from him by a projecting point of woodland.
Tom rowed on and on, until, at last, he actually
reached the entrance to the harbor, but still he
saw no signs of the "Amelia." Could it be possible,
he thought, that the captain had taken advantage

on a night as dark as this-cloudy, and without a
moon. And yet, what else could the "Amelia have
done ? He could not have passed her in the har-
bor as he rowed along. She could not have quietly
sunk out of sight. She must have gone to sea.
As Tom, without thinking what he was doing,
kept rowing on, he looked out over the long waves
that came swelling in between the two lines of
breakers, which guarded the entrance to the har-
bor. And there, not a quarter of a mile from the
shore, he saw the lights of a ship, evidently lying
to, with her head to the wind.
Tom was very angry at this sight. "If it were
not for my chest," he thought, which holds every-
thing I own, I 'd row back, and have nothing more
to do with her."
Tom was not the man to go back when he had
started out to do anything. And so he rowed on
and on toward the inlet, where the long waves,
which became breakers on either side of the narrow
passage, were rolling in from the sea. It was not
an easy matter to row a boat over these waves, but
Tom had been used to such work from a boy, hav-
ing often rowed out to sea on fishing expeditions,
and he knew exactly how to pull his boat against




the incoming surf. It was not long before he was
out on the gently swelling waters of the ocean, and
pulling vigorously for the vessel. He forgot,
entirely, that it would be necessary for him to
return Jacob Hopkins's boat, but he determined to
give a piece of his mind to his shipmates, who,
whatever might have been the cause of their sudden
departure, could certainly have found some means
of giving him notice of it.
He pulled up to the bow of the vessel, and loudly
called for a line. A rope was soon thrown to him,
and, fastening this to his skiff, he sprang into the
rigging, under the bowsprit, and nimbly clambered
on board.
"This is a pretty piece of business he cried,
as soon as his feet touched the deck. "Why did
you fellows sail off and leave me in this way ? "
"What do you mean ? said a man, stepping
up toward him and holding up a lantern. Who
sailed off and left you ? "
Tom looked at the man, and then hastily glanced
about him. It was a pretty piece of business! By
the uniform of the officer before him, and by the
appointments and armament of the ship, he saw

never would have mistaken this vessel for the
" Amelia."
"I made a mistake," he said, his voice trem-
bling a little. "I thought this was my ship, the
'Amelia.' "
And then he made a movement backward, as if
he would scramble overboard and get again into
his little boat. But the officer laid his hand on his
Stop, my good fellow," he said. You must
go and report to the captain. I have been watch-
ing you for some time, and wondered what was
bringing you here. Your ship must be a good
one if you -mistook His Majesty's sloop-of-war
'Saracen' for it."
I should not have made such a blunder," said
Tom, "if I had looked out better." And he
dejectedly followed the officer to the quarter-deck.
The captain heard his story, and asked him a
good many questions.
What is the cargo of your ship, the Amelia' ?"
he asked.
"Nothing but stones and old iron," answered
Tom. "She 's going north for a cargo, and sails


in an instant that he was on board a British vessel
of war. What a fool he had been to get so angry
that he would not look behind him as he rowed !
If it had not been for his unfortunate temper, he

in ballast. There is nothing in our little village
with which she could load. She came here to
The captain looked at the first officer, and said:





'"If this boy's story is true, the 'Amelia' would
be no great prize."
"But how can you tell that it is true? said the
"You 'd find it out very soon if you could look
into her hold," said :Tom. :He was. about to say
more, but .hi captainY interrupted .him. .
How much water-fis- there-o'n yotir bar at high
tide?" he said.
I- Fourteen feet," ariwered Tom;, -- -.
It "That would be a-:iight scraipie fr 11:' -! -
Ccen,-" remarked the captain to his <.tl-'.' "** 1i.,
-she could di6 it."
S"Oh yes, sir," said the other, "and a couple of
feet to spare."
The captain then addressed Tom again: "The
channel of the harbor runs around the end of the
island opposite the town, does it not? said he.
Yes, sir," answered Tom.
"Are you familiar with the inlet and the chan-
nel? asked the captain.
"Oh yes, sir," said Tom. "I have piloted
vessels in, three or four times."
"Well, sir," said the captain, "if I make you a
handsome present, will you pilot the 'Saracen'
into the harbor ? "
"Bring.a British vessel into our harbor? cried
Tom. "I will never do that! Our bar, and our
crooked channel, as Father has often said, are
better for us than a fort; and I am not the man to
show an enemy's vessel the way through."
Suppose I were to order you to be tied up and
flogged until you should agree to do what I ask,"
said the captain.
You may tie up and flog," said Tom, "but I
will never pilot you."
The captain looked at Tom attentively. "I
don't think I will trust you," he said. Even with
a pistol at your head, I believe you would run me
aground. I may not be able to take any prizes in
your harbor; and I doubt if there is anything there
worth taking. But an able-bodied young fellow
like you is no slight prize, and so I will take you.
You may go forward, and Mr. Burns will assign
you to a watch."
Tom went forward with the officer, thinking
sadly enough of the dreadful scrape he had got
into; but determining in his heart that he would
never assist the crew in fighting one of his country's
ships. They might kill him first. He would do
his duty as a seaman in working the ship, but he
would never fight. On that point he was deter-
As soon as he had an opportunity, Tom went to
one of the sailors and said: "That little boat that
I came in belongs to Jacob Hopkins, and I 'd like
to get it back to him if I could."

"You need n't trouble yourself about the little
boat," said the sailor, laughing. "Mr.-Burns
,ordered that cut adrift. It was n't worth hoisting
-Tom was .very sorry that he- had caused Jacob
Hopkins the loss of his boat, but ie was still more
:sorry for the'- fate that- had-befallen himself..- He
'w~w t: about -his wotk quietly. and sadly, biwhe did
what he was told to do,-and the officers'fouind no
fIilu. --.. rii- h;-n. Itf-suited hin much better to work,
'.1 :i .:r, r. l-.. -,p of his enemies, than to be shut up
as a prisoner of war; and, before long, he became
moderately contented with his lot.
He was never called upon to help fight his
countrymen. In a few months the "Saracen"
sailed into a neutral port, where there was an
American war vessel, having on board a couple of
British sailors, who had been taken prisoners. For
one of these Tom was exchanged, and he regularly
enlisted on board the United States ship, on which
he remained until the close of the war. The vessel
had no engagements with British men-of-war, but
she captured several of the enemy's merchant
ships, and, when Tom was discharged, there was
quite a large sum of prize-money due to him.
Tom lost no time in making his way down to his
native town. He found his parents alive and well,
although they had been in great grief ever since
their son rowed away in the night to go on board
the Amelia." They had never known for certain
what had become of him, although many persons
supposed that he might have been captured by an
English war vessel which had been seen in the
offing, and which sailed away before daylight on
the night of Tom's disappearance. His parents
earnestly hoped that this was the case, for it would
be much better to have had their son taken pris-
oner than to have had him drowned.
Tom soon heard the reason why he could not
find the "Amelia." A man living on the island
opposite the town had discovered the British vessel,
and, while Tom was spending the evening with his
parents, had rowed over to the "Amelia" to tell
the captain of the danger which awaited him out-
side the harbor. The "Amelia" immediately
weighed anchor, and, there being a favorable
breeze, she sailed past the town to a point where
she would be tolerably safe from an attack by the
enemy's boats. The town was greatly excited by
the news, and Jacob Hopkins, supposing that Tom
knew all about the matter, had never thought of
rowing him over to the "Amelia," which would
certainly now be in no hurry to sail.
Tom's prize-money amounted to much :more
than he could possibly have made by a dozen voy-
ages in the Amelia," and he was not only able to
make his parents very comfortable, but seriously




should he meet but a colored woman, who had
come from New York to serve as cook; and she
threw her arms around Spider's neck and hugged
him, and called him "her own honey," her "dear
pickaninny," and her "sweet George Washin'ton
'Poleon Bonaparte Pompey's Pillar "!
It really was Spider's "ole mammy," whom he
had not seen for seven years !
Spider and his "mammy" were both happy
then, you may be sure, and Daffy danced for joy.
Daffy told her adventures to the people in the
hotel, and one of the ladies drew a picture of
Daffy sitting on the rock eating lobster, with
Spider coming along beside her; and underneath
she wrote: "Little Miss Muffet and the Spider."
And people began to call her "little Miss Muffet."
The day after her adventure, a queer thing hap-
pened. A beautiful toy canoe, made of birch-
bark, like the real ones, and a big box of candy,
were sent to the hotel for Daffy. With them came
a card inscribed, "With the ogre's compliments."
How he had found her out, Daffy never knew.

Mr. Crawford hired Spider to take the children
to row every day, because he was so careful and
trustworthy; and Daffy grew so fond of him that,
when the time came for her to go home, she
begged that he might go, too; so her father hired
him to work about his grounds,-for, with sea air
and plenty of wholesome food (which latter item
his "ole mammy" attended to), Spider had
entirely recovered from the "misery in his side."
His "ole mammy" could not be separated from
him, and Daffy's mother discovered that her
kitchen was in need of a cook; so Spider's "ole
mammy" was engaged, also.
And Spider has almost forgotten what it was to
"belong nowhar" and have "nobody want him."
He does all his work faithfully, but he is especially
devoted to Daffy. He hoards the ripest straw-
berries and the biggest peaches for her, and brings
her the very first nuts that are to be found.
Now, if you should ever meet Daffy Crawford,
and hear her called "little Miss Muffet," you
would know how she happened to get the name.



OH, Miss Aramantha Mehitabel Brown
Was known as the prettiest girl in the town,
In the days of King George, number Three.
Her hat was a wonder
Of feathers and bows;
The pretty face under
Was sweet as a rose:
And her sleeves were so full they could tickle her nose!
Her dimity gown was a marvel to see;
So short in the waist!
And not a bit laced-
" Oh, mercy! I never would do it! said she.
No cumbering train hid her dear little feet,
Yet the skirt that revealed them was ample and neat,-
Indeed, all the modistes declared it was "sweet";
And the bag that she swung from her plump little arm
Would have held half a dozen young kittens from harm.
Ah, the maiden was fair,
And dainty and rare!
And the neighbors would sigh,
As she tripped lightly by:
Sure, the pride of our town
And its fittest renown
Is sweet Aramantha Mehitabel Brown "




thought of becoming part owner of a small coast-
ing vessel. This plan he, in time, accomplished,
and he commanded his own schooner for many
But, before starting on his new career, Tom
took a holiday, and spent many an hour among
the boats along shore, telling his father and the
old men of the town the stories of his adventures.
One of the first persons he went to see was Jacob
Hopkins. Of course they had met before, since
Tom's return, but now he came on business.
Jacob," said he, I want to pay you for your
skiff, which I lost when I went away from here."
"You did n't lose it. Three days after you
left, I found it on the beach as good as new."
"I 'm glad of that," said Tom; "but didn't
the empty boat's return scare the old people ? "


They never heard of it. I knew they'd be
dreadfully scared to know that the boat in which
their son went away had been cast up empty on
the beach, so I rowed her here at night, and put
her in a shed in my yard, where she has been evei
since, and I 've never said a word about it."
"You are a good, kind fellow," said Tom,
pressing Jacob's hand; "but your skiff must be
in a sorry condition by this time."
So saying, Tom walked over to the shed where
the boat had been stowed away. He found it dry,
cracked, and practically useless. Again thanking
Jacob for sacrificing his boat to spare the feelings
of two old people, Tom walked away.
But, in a few days, Jacob Hopkins was the
owner of the best row-boat that could be bought
in that old sea-port town.



WHEN all the light hath left the West,
And the wearied world hath gone to rest;
When the moon rides high in the purple sky,
S.'-.. From our forest home we fairies hie-
Out of the warm, green heart of the earth,
S To waken the woods with song and mirth.

F ..., waters, flow! Blow, soft winds, blow!
II: aiiries are kings of the woods to-night!

i.: xre the children of light and air;
'. know not sorrow, we feel no care;
-. Through the long, sweet hours of the summer night,
ro revel and dance is our delight;
-' And wherever our flying footsteps pass,
There are brighter rings on the dewy grass.

Flow, waters, flow! Blow, soft winds, blow!
The fairies are kings of the woods to-night!

'In every blossom and bud we hide,
On wings of the wind we mount and ride;
We haunt the brooks and the rushing streams,
S And we climb to the stars up the white moonbeams;
And the woodman sees by the dawn's pale light
The circling track of our footsteps bright.

Flow, waters, flow! Blow, soft winds, blow!
The fairies are kings of the woods to-night





Would you like to know how to make corn-husk
dolls ?
Select the soft, white husks growing next to the
ear-the softer and more moist the better. Then
dampen them a little in water, to make them more
pliable. Next, pick out from your entire stock the
most perfect piece you can find,-the softest, as
well as widest,-double it across the center, and
place a piece of strong, coarse thread through it, as
in Figure No. I. Lay this aside; next place the
stiff ends of two or three husks together, and, fold-
ing other husks in lengthwise strips, wind them

r~.T "



Now that the season for corn-husking is at hand,
we are reminded of a very ingenious as well as
novel use to which corn-husks can be put. There
are many little girls living in the country, where
corn grows plentifully, who would perhaps like to
hear of this new way of using the husks for their
special enjoyment.
You doubtless know how ingenious little Indian
girls are, and what pretty bead-work they accom-
plish, and what wonderful baskets they make. Well,
these black-eyed, dark-skinned little girls are, after
all, much like their pale-faced sisters in tastes, and,
like them, must have their dolls. Unlike them,
however, they do not often buy them ready-made,
but, instead, they invent all sorts of devices for
making them with their own deft fingers. Their
favorite method is to use corn-husks, from which
they will fashion dolls that are almost as pretty as
those made of costlier material, and sometimes
more shapely, besides.





around the ends thus placed, until they make what
you consider the proper size for a head, according
to Figure No. 3. Then, taking the husk you laid
aside, as in Figure No. I, draw it, as in Figure
No. 2, until it is bunched tightly, then tie it





securely, placing it entirely over the husks you
have been winding. Tie thread around the head
underneath, for the neck, and then you have the
head as in Figure No. 4.




layers extend down both front and back, and cross
each other on the chest and back. If you wish
to make the chest fuller than the back, add a
few husks, placing the ends just over the tips of the


Next, divide the husks below the neck in two shoulders, and letting them extend only down the
equal parts, and, folding together two or three front. Then, when you think the form is properly
husks, place them lengthwise through the division shaped, cover the whole neatly with carefully


for the arms, as in Figure No. 5. Holding them
in place with the thumb and fingers, proceed to
fold alternately layer upon layer of husks over the
shoulders, first one- and then the other, letting the


selected husks, and tie securely about the waist
with strong thread, as in Figure No. 6.
Finally, divide the husks in two below the waist,
wind each part neatly with thread, trimming them





off at the feet; this forms the legs. Then, giving To make the girl-doll, you must first find a
the arms a twist or two, tie and trim them at the young ear of corn, one on which the silk has
wrist, and bind them to the body for an hour or not turned brown; then, with a crab-apple for a



two, to give them a downward tendency. You
will then have your doll complete, as in Figure
No. 7.
These dolls can be of all sizes, from a foot long
to a finger's length, the small dolls serving as
babies for the larger ones. They can be dressed
in any style, to suit the taste of the doll-makers.
But, to our thinking, they look best unadorned,
provided their anatomy is all right.
You must be careful not to have them ill-shaped.
Perhaps your first attempt will be a sad failure.
The head may be askew, the arms and legs may be
all awry; there may be odds and ends that you can
neither tie up nor hide away, and, altogether, her
ladyship may present a decidedly disreputable
appearance. But never mind. It will only give
you something to laugh at. Try again, and keep
on trying until you are rewarded with success.
You may, in time, come to wonder at your own
skill. At all events, it will serve as a pleasant pas-
time for some rainy day, when you are longing for
new diversion.

head and a leaf of the corn, you have your ma-
Roll part of the leaf, as indicated in Figure No.
8, for the arms; then, with a small twig, fasten the

Almost every child who has been in the coun- .- .
try has made, or has tried to make, a corn-cob
baby. Those who have not succeeded in their FLOWER-DOLL.
efforts will, perhaps, be glad to try again, in this head to the arms; stick the other end of the twig
way, which is very easy and simple: into the corn-cob, and the doll is ready for dressing.



`a~~ ~;


: -J


The bonnet is made of a leaf, just where it
grows from the stalk, and is fastened with a thorn.
Before putting the bonnet on, however, the silk
must be pulled up over the head, to form hair.
Make the skirt and scarf of part of the leaf, and the
doll's toilet is complete.
Thorns are used to form the features, as well as
to fasten on the clothes.
The boy-doll will require very little explanation.
A corn-cob forms the body and head, while the
legs are a portion of the leaf rolled up and fast-
ened to the body with a strong piece of grass.
Wild beans are used for the arms and feet. The
cap is made from the same part of the leaf which
forms the girl's bonnet, only it is placed on the
head differently. Rose-bush -thorns, as in the

other doll, are used for the features, and the coat
is cut from the corn-leaf.
The flower-lady is made of the common garden
flowers. The under-skirt is a petunia; a Canter-
bury-bell forms the over-skirt and waist; small
twigs, or broom straws, stuck through buds of the
phlox, are the arms; the head is made of a green
pea, with a phlox blossom for a bonnet. A
reversed daisy makes a very nice parasol.
If these flowers cannot be procured, those of a
similar shape will answer just as well.
Flower-dolls are very easily made, and, from the
hints here given, the readers of ST. NICHOLAS can
make any number of these summer dollies. The
pictures are not from imagination, but sketches of
actual dolls.



A CERTAIN celebrated story-teller relates that
"There was an old woman who had three sons,
Benjamin, William, andJohn.
One was hanged, and one was drowned,
One was lost, and never was found,
And that was the end of the three sons,
Benjamin, William, and John."

Not long ago, I found a more full and ex-
plicit account of the same persons in the Blue
Book of Wire Brier Tobit, which explains the
lines I have quoted above, and gives the history of
this wonderful family up to the time when the
parents died.
Many years ago, John Doe, with his wife Mary
Jane, lived in the town of Doeville, which is situ-
ated, as every one knows, exactly in the center of
the empire of Brasstossig.
John was a farmer, and had wide fields of
barley, and wheat, and rye, and two score of fat
cattle;, and Mary Jane was what every woman was
born to be, a housewife.
They might have been happy together, but they
were not. John had a furious temper, and gave
way to terrible fits of rage; and Mary Jane was so
stingy, she grudged even the air of heaven to any
one but herself. The wood and 'field fairies were
scared from the place by John's angry screams;
and as Mary Jane never left any milk and bread by
the hearth for the house-fairies, they left also; and
no family can be happy after it has been forsaken
by the little people.
One summer, a little son was born to John and

Mary Jane. The blessing of a child ought to have
brought generosity into the heart of the mother,
and self-control to the father, but it did not. Mary
Jane grew more stingy than ever; for," said she,
"my son must have a start in life." And John,
when his anxieties increased, spent a portion of
every day jumping up and down with all his might,
and screaming:
"Needles, bills, and pins,
When a man marries
His trouble begins."

After the baby was born, the field-fairies flut-
tered about the house a little while, for they love
children; but they were soon frightened away.
They pitied Benjamin,-for so the baby was called,
-and thought it too bad that he must grow up
under such wicked influences; so, one moonlight
night, while his parents were sound asleep, they
stole him, and left a little straw-baby, that looked
the very image of him, in his place.
The straw-baby thrived and grew, and, when it
was two years old, and could scream and kick quite
like its foster-father, another child was born, whom
they named William. When the house-fairies saw
his blue eyes and yellow hair, they loved him,
and, unwilling to leave him in such an unhappy
home, they stole him, and left a dough-baby in his
In time, a third son was born, and they called
him John, after his father. It had seemed as
though the wicked Mr. and Mrs. Doe were as bad
as they could be, but after John was born they




grew worse. The gentle wood-fairies determined
to save him; so they took a nice white basswood
block, and carved a baby out of it that looked
exactly like John, and, when they had a chance, they
stole John, and left the wooden baby in his cradle.
The parents never guessed that their children
had been stolen, and that changelings were grow-
ing up in their household. Their evil tempers
made their eye-sight poor, and the fairies had
done their work well.
The years went by, and the babies grew into
manhood. Benjamin, the straw changeling, re-
sembled his father in character and features, and
was his favorite. William, the dough changeling,
was his mother's pet, and was very like her in
mind and body. John, who was made of the bass-
wood stick, resembled no one but himself, and was
so stupid the neighbors called him "Blockhead
When Benjamin was twenty-one years old, his
father gave him a bag of beans and a new clasp-
knife, and sent him out into the world to seek his
He traveled across deserts and plains until he
reached the city of Amsterdam, where the first
person he met was a custom-house official, who
commanded him to open his bean-bag, that he
might inspect it.
I will not screamed Benjamin.
In the name of the Emperor, I command you! "
said the officer.
I sha' n't for him, nor anybody roared Ben-
jamin, in a furious passion.
"You shall cried the officer.
At that, Benjamin snatched out his new clasp-
knife, and slew the officer.
Benjamin was put in prison, and after a trial
which lasted two years, two months, and two days,
was executed.
After his death, it was found that, instead of
the proper interior parts of the human body, there
was only shining rye-straw inside of him.
An official dispatch was duly sent to Mr. and
Mrs. Doe, announcing the execution of their son,
and his crime.
"Alas! alas! cried the unhappy father. "If
I had only trained him right. If I only had "
And, after that, his family and neighbors noticed
a curious change in him; he grew better-tempered,
and sometimes a whole month passed without wit-
nessing one of his anger-fits.
When William was twenty-one, his mother gave
him a bag of golden ducats, and bade him seek
his fortune in the great world. He traveled about,
always clasping his bag of ducats to his bosom, and,
if possible, adding to his store, but finding neither
friends nor pleasure.

One day he heard that in a distant country there
was a gold mine of untold richness, and off he
started to find it. Soon he came to a wide, deep
river. The ferryman would not carry him over it
without a fee, so he resolved to swim across. He
swam well for a little way, but he soon became
water-soaked, and the heavy bag of gold to which
he clung carried him to the bottom, and he rose no
When the news of his death reached Doeville,
his mother wept bitterly. It was I who taught
him such saving ways," she sobbed.
As the death of Benjamin had softened the dis-
position of the father, William's death made gener-
osity spring up in the soul of the mother, and now
she asked herself, To whom can I give? Whom
can I make happy?" not "How can I save?" as
in former times.
John was twenty-five before he left home. The
sorrow his parents felt at the death of their older
sons, and a suspicion that John was not well pre-
pared to deal with the cunning world, made them
hold him back; but at last he demanded that in
his turn he might try his luck,,so, with his rp:i; it'
blessing, and a well-filled purse, he set out.
Round the world he went, like the Wandering
Jew, but somehow he could never remember where
he came from, nor where he was going, so he could
only go on, and on, like the wooden-head he was,
and after the day on which they bade him good-
bye, his parents never saw his face.
Mr. and Mrs. Doe grew bent and gray and
old, but so much were they changed in disposition
and conduct, that all the country loved them.
The house-fairies came back, and the wood and
field fairies flitted about the cottage without fear.
When the little people saw that sorrow had
become a purifying fire to these two hearts, and
that their souls were growing beautiful as their
bodies withered, they resolved to give them the
unspeakable joy of seeing their real children.
They had bestowed the tenderest and wisest care
upon the babies they had stolen, and the three had
become great and noble men. Benjamin was a
statesman, high in the confidence of the emperor;
William was a general, whose gallant deeds and
brilliant victories were the pride of all Brasstossig;
and John was a learned clergyman, whose good
deeds were known all the country round.
The fairies bade them appear together before
the door of John Doe of Doeville on midsum-
mer day, and they came promptly. Benjamin
wore his finest court-dress, glittering with jeweled
orders; William wore his uniform, his sword at his
side, and the iron cross upon his breast; and
John had on a plain gown of black silk, as became
a pastor; and Mr. and Mrs. Doe were the most




surprised people in the world when they opened
the door and beheld these handsome gentlemen.
-A very small fairy stood upon the table and
related the story of the changed children, and then
the Three Sons called the old people "Father"

and "Mother," and if you and I had been there,
we should have rejoiced to see the happiness, and
crying, and embracing that followed.
And here ends the story of the Three Sons, as
told in the Blue Book of Wire Brier Tobit.



"WHY sit you here, my lass?" said he.
" I came to see the king," said she,-
"To see the king come riding by,
While all the eager people cry,
'God bless the king, and long live he I'
And therefore sit I here," said she.
" Why do you weep, my lass? said he.
" Because that I am sad," said she.
" For when the king came riding by,
And all the people raised a cry,
I was so small, I could not see.
And therefore do I weep," said she.
" Then weep no more, my lass !" said he.
" And pray, good sir, why not?" said she.
" Lift up your eyes of bonny blue,
And look and look me through and
Nor say the king you could not see.
I am the king, my lass!" said he.

VOL. VIII.-53.





WHEN, at length, Phaeton got an answer from
the chief-engineer concerning his invention, it
seemed rather surly.
"This thing wont do at all, boy," said he. "It
can't be made to work on a large scale." And he
handed the drawing to Phaeton, and then turned
his back to him and resumed his work.
Phaeton thrust it into his pocket, and walked out
of the shop quite crestfallen. When he told us
about it, Ned became indignant.
"I don't believe a word of it," said he; "I see
through the whole plot. The chief-engineer has
entered into a conspiracy with himself to crush out
your invention, because he knows it would do away
with all the fire-engines and hook-and-ladders, and
the city would n't need a chief-engineer any more,
and he could n't draw that nice little salary of a
thousand dollars just for running to fires and boss-
ing things."
"I did n't know that the firemen got any pay,"
said I. "I thought it was a patriotic duty,-be-
sides the fun."
"That's just it," said Ned. "The men who do
the hard work don't get a cent; but the chief-
engineer, who has more fun.than any of us,-for
he can choose the best place to see the fire from,
and can order the engines to play any way he
likes,-gets a thousand dollars a year."
I thought almost everybody had had a better
place than Ned's to see the last fire, but I kept my
thoughts to myself.
"I '11 spoil that job for him," continued Ned.
How can you do it ?" said I.
"By getting Fay's invention patented, and then
having it brought before the Common Council at
their very next meeting. We might let this city
use it free; that would give us a great reputation
for patriotism, and bring our fire extinguisher into
notice, and then we could make all the other cities
pay a big price for it."
Would n't some people oppose it ? said I.
Yes, the boys would, because it spoils all the
fun of fires; and the chief-engineers would, be-
cause it spoils their salaries; but all the other
people would go for it, because it saves millions of
dollars' worth of property. The women, especially,
would be friendly to it, because it saves the scare."

What's that?" said I, not quite understanding
"Why, you must know," said Ned, "that when
a woman wakes up in the middle of the night and
finds the four walls of her room on fire, and the
floor hotter, than an oven, and the ceiling cracking
open, and the bed-clothes blazing, she 's awfully
scared, as a general thing."
"I don't doubt it," said I.
"But Fay's invention puts out the fires so
quickly, besides keeping them from spreading, that
it saves all that anguish of mind, as well as the
"It seems to me it's a good plan," said I, refer-
ring to Ned's proposal for taking out a patent at
"Then we '11 go to Aunt Mercy and get the
money right away," said he. "What do you say,
This conversation took place in the printing-
office. Phaeton, after telling us the result of his
interviews with the chief-engineer, had taken no
further part in it, but busied himself setting type.
"I 've no objection," said he, in answer to Ned's
Then let's have your drawing," said Ned, and
with that in hand, he and I set off for Aunt
"I don't feel quite right," said Ned, as we went
along, "about the way Aunt Mercy has always
misunderstood these things. This time, I am
determined to make her understand it right."
"You mean, you '11 let her know that it 's
Phaeton's invention, and not yours ?" said I.
That 's the main thing," said he. "I 've got
a good deal of credit that belonged to him; but I
never meant to take it. She has always managed
to misunderstand, somehow, and I could never see
any way to correct it without spoiling the whole
"But if you tell her that, will she let you have
the money?" said I.
"Not so easily, of course," said Ned; "but still
Aunt Mercy 's a good-hearted woman, after all,
and I think I can talk her into doing the generous
thing by Fay."
We found Aunt Mercy apparently in an un-
pleasant mood, from some mysterious cause. But
Ned talked away in a lively manner, and when she
began to brighten up, he gradually approached the
subject which he really had in mind.

* Copyright, x880, by Rossiter Johnson. All rights reserved.






Aunty," said he, don't you ever feel afraid
of fire ?"
"Yes, indeed, Edmund Burton," said she.
" I 'm afraid of it all the time, especially since I've
had this new girl in the kitchen. It seems to me
she 's very careless."
If your house should take fire in the night, and
burn up the stairs the first thing, how would you
get out? said Ned.
I really don't know," said she. "I ought, by
good rights, to be taken out of the window and down
a ladder by some gallant fireman. But it seems
to me they don't have any such gentlemen now
for firemen as they used to. They're more of a
rowdy set."
They 're certainly not very gentle," said Ned.
" Did you hear how they knocked Mr. Glidden's
house and furniture to pieces at the last fire ?"
Yes; but why were they allowed to do so?"
said she.
That 's it," said Ned. Somebody, out of all
the people there, ought to have had sense enough to
stop them. As for myself, I was n't there. I was
going, but was detained on the way."
"If you had been, you 'd have stopped them,
I 've no doubt," said his aunt.
"I should have tried to, I hope," said Ned.
" And now, Aunty, I 'd like to show you a little
invention for doing away with all those horrors."
Something you .want me to furnish money to
make a muddle of, I suppose? said she.
"Well, yes, if it pleases you," and here Ned
produced the drawing of the fire extinguisher.
" And now I want to tell you, Aunty, that this is
not my own invention, but my brother's; and I
think it's about the best he 's ever made."
U-m-m-m," said Aunt Mercy.
Ned then proceeded to explain the drawing.
"I see it all quite plainly," said Aunt Mercy,
when he had finished. My house takes fire --"
I hope not," said Ned.
"The alarm is given, and this thing is brought
out -"
"Just so," said Ned.
"In about a minute it is clapped right down over
the house --"
Precisely," said Ned.
"And smothers the fire instantly--"
That's it exactly," said Ned.
And smothers me in it, as well."
Ned was dumfounded for a minute, but soon
came to his senses.
As to that," said he, it's to be supposed that
you 'd run out of the house just before we put on
the extinguisher. But the fact is, Aunt, you 've
suggested an improvement already. Of course,
we shall have to build the extinguisher with several

flaps, like tent-doors, so that if there are any people
in the house, they can easily escape."
"And you think I ought to furnish that brother
of yours the money to make a proper muddle of
this thing? "
I should be glad if you would," said Ned.
"Well," said Aunt Mercy, there 's a piece of
his work in the kitchen now. I wish you'd step
out and look at it, and then tell me what you
Ned and I walked out to the kitchen. There
stood the skeletons of half a dozen chairs-those
from which we had taken the rounds to make our
"Those look well, don't they?" said Aunt
Mercy, who had followed us. They belonged to
my great-grandfather, and were probably not new
in his time. I had them stored at your house, and
yesterday I sent a furniture man to get them and
polish them up for me. He brings them home in
this plight, and tells me the mischief has been
done recently, for the saw-cuts are all fresh. They
were priceless relics; I would n't have taken ten
dollars apiece for them; and your brother has
ruined every one of them."
Ned was staggered, and I wondered what he
would find to say. But he was equal to the
Aunty," said he, Fay did n't do that -"
Don't tell me, child; nobody but a boy would
ever have thought of such mischief."
"Very true," said Ned; "it was a boy-two
boys-and we two are the ones."
Aunt Mercy turned pale with astonishment.
Apparently, it had never occurred to her that
Ned could do any mischief.
"We sawed out the rounds," he continued, to
make a rope-ladder. But we did n't know the
chairs were good for anything, or we would n't
have touched them. If there's any way we can
put them in again, we 'll do it. I suppose we can
get them all-excepting a few that the policeman
carried off."
Aunt Mercy was still more confounded. Rope-
ladder "-" policeman "-that sounded like robbery
and State-prison.
Go home, Edmund Burton," said she, as soon
as she could get her breath. Go home at once,
and take away out of my house this bad boy who
has led you into evil ways."
Ned wanted to explain my innocence; but I took
myself out of the house with all possible haste, and
he soon followed.
It 's of no use," said he. "Aunt Mercy's
heavily prejudiced against me."
When all this was told at the Rogers's breakfast-
table next morning, Mr. Rogers could not help

l88i.] *



laughing heartily. He said his sister valued the
chairs far above their real worth, though of course
that did not excuse us for sawing out the rounds.
"But as for patenting your invention, boys,"
said he, "you need not trouble yourselves. It has
been tried."
How can it have been tried? said Phaeton.
"As a great many others are," said his father.
"By being stolen first. .The reason why our
worthy chief-engineer kept putting you off was,
because he thought it was a good invention, and
wanted to appropriate it. He had a model built,
and applied for a patent through lawyer Stevens,
from whom I have the information. The applica-
tion was rejected by the Patent Office, and he had
just received notice of it when you called on him
yesterday, and found him so surly. His model
cost him forty dollars, the Patent Office fee on a
rejected application is fifteen dollars, and he had to
pay his lawyer something besides. You can guess
at the lawyer's fee, and the express company's
charge for taking the model and drawings to Wash-
ington, and reckon up how much his dishonesty
cost him."
But what puzzles me," said Ned, "is the rejec-
tion. That's such a splendid invention, I should
think they would have given it a patent right
It does seem so," said Mr. Rogers, who never
liked to discourage the boys by pointing out the
fatal defects in their contrivances; "but the Com-
.missioner probably had some good reason for it.
A great many applications are rejected, for one
cause or another."
Phaeton had suddenly ceased to take any part or
interest in the conversation, and Ned observed that
he was cutting his bread and butter into very queer
shapes. One was the profile of a chair; another
was a small cylinder, notched on the end.
As soon as breakfast was over, Phaeton took his
hat and disappeared. He went up to his aunt's
house, and asked to see the mutilated chairs.
I think they can be mended," said he, half-
aloud, as if talking to himself.
"Of course they can," said his aunt. "The
cabinet-maker can put in new rounds, but those
would n't be the old rounds, and he'd be
obliged to take the chairs apart, more or less, to
get them in. I don't want anything new about
them, and I don't want them weakened by being
pulled apart. I 'd like to have them as they were
at first. Unless they are the same old chairs,
every splinter of them, that stood in Grandfather's
dining-room, they can have no value for me."
"I think I could put in the old rounds, without
taking the chairs apart," said Phaeton; "and if
you '11 let me, I '11 take one home and try it."

"Try what you like," said Aunt Mercy. "You
can't make them look any worse than they do
So Phaeton took up one of the ancient chairs,
inverted it, and placed it on his head as the easiest
way of carrying it, and marched home.
His next care was to secure the missing rounds.



He came over to our house and got the rope-ladder,
and then went to the police-station and had the
good fortune to recover the piece which the over-
shrewd policeman had carried off as evidence.
This gave him the whole twenty-four rounds, and
it did not take him long to select from them the
four that had been sawed from that particular
chair which he had in hand. Ned and I had
done our work hurriedly, and somewhat roughly,
and no two were sawed precisely alike. We had
sawed them so that stubs, perhaps an inch long,
were left sticking out from the legs.
Phaeton procured a fine saw, and sawed one of
the rounds in two, lengthwise, thus splitting it in
halves, each of which, of course, had one flat side
and one curved side.
Then he sawed in each of the two stubs, which
had originally been parts of that same round, a
notch, or "shoulder," which cut away about half
of the stub,-the upper side of one and the lower
side of the other,-carefully saving the pieces that
came out of the notches.
Then he put the two halves of the round
together, as they were before being sawed apart,-
excepting that he slid them upon each other,
lengthwise, a distance equal to the length of the
notches in the stubs.
Now, as he held the reconstructed round in its
place in the chair, it just fitted, and there was
sufficient overlap on the stubs to make a secure
fastening possible. Near each end there was a
small vacant space, into which the pieces cut out
to make the notches in the stubs exactly fitted.
Phaeton procured a pot of glue, and fastened the
pieces together and in place. To give the work
greater strength, he carefully bored a hole through
the stub and the overlapping end of the round, put
in a piece of large copper wire, a trifle longer than




X 4


the hole, and, holding a large hammer against one
end, gently pounded on the other with a tack-ham-
mer, until he had flattened it out into a rivet-head;
then reversed the hammers and made a head on
the other end.
Finally, as he had no vise or hand-screws, he
placed a strip of wood on each side of the mended
round, tied a piece of strong cord in a loose hang-
ing-loop around each end, put a stick through, and
twisted them up tight,-the sticks resting against
the legs of the chair, which prevented the cords
from untwisting. He thus made what a surgeon


-,* \\ \ w ^ ^" '

*^ it^ :';.

i '

L / '* .
, /.^


would call a couple of tourniquets, to hold his work
firmly together while the glue was hardening.
Ned and I had watched all these operations with
intense interest.
I tell you what it is," said Ned, "Fay some-
times makes mistakes when he goes sailing off in
the realms of imagination with his inventive

genius, like that fire extinguisher;- but when you
come down to a real thing that 's got to be fixed,
and nobody else can fix it, he 's right there every
Phaeton treated the other three rounds of the
chair in the same way, and then set it by for the
glue to harden. When that had taken place, he
took off the tourniquets, scraped and sand-papered
the rounds, so as to leave no unevenness at the
edges of the pieces, and then varnished them.
Waiting for that varnish to dry was one of the
severest trials of patience we ever endured. But it
was dry at last, and of course Ned and I were
proud to go with Phaeton when Hie carried home
his work.
He left the chair in the hall, where Ned and I
also remained, and went in first to speak to his
Seems to me things are mightily changed,"
said Ned, in a humiliated tone, when Fay walks
in to see Aunt Mercy, and I stay outside. But I
suppose it's all right."
We heard his aunt say to Phaeton:
I 'd given up looking for you. I knew you 'd
find you could n't do it; but I know you tried
hard, poor boy, and I 'm just as much obliged to
Presently Phaeton came out and got the chair,
and this time we went in with him.
He set it down before his astonished aunt, and
carefully explained to her the whole process, show-
ing her that not a splinter of any but the original
wood had been used.
That .cobbled-up old chair went straight to Aunt
Mercy's heart, and seated Phaeton in her affections
She made us all stay and take tea with her, and
after tea we took home the other five chairs to be
similarly treated; Phaeton marching first with two
on his head, then Ned with two more, and I bring-
ing up the rear with the odd one on my head.



PHAETON'S fame as an inventor and general
engineer was growing rapidly among the boys.
They had great faith in his powers, and in some of
them a similar inventive spirit was awakened,
though none of them accomplished much. They
very commonly came to consult him when they
thought they had an idea.
One day Holman came to the printing-office
when we were all there,--including Jimmy, who,
with the help of Wilson's treatise on punctuation,





was learning to read proof,-and said he thought
he knew how to make a fortune.
"That 's a good thing to know," said Phaeton.
"But I can't be quite sure that I do know it,"
said Holman, "till I talk with you about some
parts of the scheme."
I shall be glad to help you all I can," said
I don't care to make -any secret of it," con-
tinued Holman, "because, if it can be carried out,
we shall have to make a sort of joint-stock com-
pany, and take in several of the boys."
Will it make us a fortune apiece ?" said Ned,
" or only one fortune, to be divided up among the
company ?"
"That depends on how much you consider a
fortune," answered Holman. The main thing
I want to know, Fay, is this: whether it is possible
to invent some way of going under water, and
working there without a big, heavy diving-bell."
"I think," said Phaeton, "that other and
lighter apparatus has. been invented already; but
if not, I should think it could be."
"Then we are all right," said Holman. I
know where the fortune is,-there 's no uncertainty
about that,-but it 's under water a few feet, and it
wont do to go for it with any large and noticeable
"Fay can easily invent a pocket diving-bell,"
said Ned.
"Do you know the history of Venice ? said
Phaeton said he knew the outlines of her his-
tory, Jimmy said he knew about the Bucentaur "
and the bronze horses, but Ned and I confessed
total ignorance.
I 've just been reading it," said Holman, and
that's where I got my idea. You must know that
when Venice was a rich republic, the Doge-who
was the same as a president or mayor-used to go
out once a year in a big row-boat called the "Bucen-
taur," with banners and streamers, and a brass
band, and a lot of jolly fellows, and marry the
Adriatic Sea, as they called it. That is, he threw
a splendid wedding-ring into the water, and then I
suppose they all gave three cheers, and fired a
salute, and had some lemonade, and perhaps made
speeches that were a little tedious, like those we
have to listen to at school on examination day. At
any rate, he threw in the ring, and that 's the
important thing. "
"What was all that for? said Ned.
"Jack-in-the-Box-told me," said Holman, "it
was because the Venetians were a sea-going peo-
ple, and all their wealth came from commerce, and
so this ceremony signified their devotion to the sea.
But, as I was saying, this was done regularly every

year for six hundred and twenty years; and what
makes it lucky for us is, that it was always done at
the same spot-the Porto di Lido, a little channel
through that long narrow island that lies a little off
"I don't see where the luck for us comes in,"
said I. If the Doges had been our grandfathers,
and bequeathed us the rings instead of throwing
them away, there might be some luck in that."
"Wait till you see what I 'm coming to," said
Holman. "The Adriatic is a shallow sea,-I 've
looked up all the facts,-and my idea is, that we
might as well have those rings as for them to lie
there doing nobody any good."
How much are they worth ? said Ned.
"You can calculate it for yourself," said Hol-
man. "As I said before, the ceremony was
repeated every year, for six hundred and twenty
years. Of course, we might not get quite all of
them-throw off the twenty; there are six hundred
rings. They must have been splendid ones, worth
at least a hundred dollars apiece. There's sixty
thousand dollars, all in a huddle in that one spot."
But don't you suppose," said Ned, that after
awhile those cunning old Doges would stop throw-
ing in solid gold rings with real diamonds on them,
and use brass ones washed with gold, and paste
diamonds ? "
I think not," said Holman. For they did n't
have to pay for them-the bill was footed by the
Common Council. And they could n't try that
without getting caught. For of course the ring
would be on exhibition a week or so in the window
of some fashionable jewelry-store, and the news-
papers would tell that it was furnished by the
celebrated establishment of So-and-So."
But don't you suppose," said Phaeton, "that,
as soon as it was dark, some fellow went out
quietly in a little skiff, and dived for the ring?
Some of those Italians are wonderful divers."
"I think not," said Holman, "for the ring
would be of no use to a Venetian: he would n't
dare offer it for sale."
"How do you propose to get them?"
"My plan is, first to invent some kind of diving
apparatus that is small, and can be packed in a
valise; then, for us all to save up all the money
we can get, till we have enough to pay the travel-
ing expenses of two of us from here to Venice.
We could go cheap in a sailing-vessel. Suppose
you and I went, Fay; we 'd ask the Venetians
about the fishing, and buy or hire some tackle, and
put a lunch in our valise, with the diving apparatus,
and get a skiff and start off. I 've planned the
very course. When you leave the city, you steer a
little east of north-east; row about four miles, and
there you are."




"That 's easy enough," said I,-" only a little
over half the distance from here to Charlotte, which
we 've all rowed scores of times."
"When we get there," Holman continued,
"we '11 fish awhile, to lull suspicion, and then I '11
quietly get into the diving apparatus and drop into
the water, with the valise in my hand. It wouldn't
take me long to scoop up those rings, once I got
amongst them; then, of course, Fay would haul
me up, and we 'd hurry home and divide. We
could easily turn the rings into money."
I should think we might get more for them as
curiosities than as old gold," said I.
"That 's a good idea," said Holman.
"But we must n't be in a hurry to sell them all,"
said Jimmy the Rhymer. "When a fellow grows
up and gets engaged, one of those would be an
awful romantic thing to give to the lady."
"I know a better way than that to get them,
though," said Ned.
"Let 's hear."
"Just invent some kind of magnet that '11 stick
to gold, as a common magnet sticks to iron, and
put a good strong one in the butt end of your fish-
pole'; then, when the Venetians were looking, you
could be fishing; and when they were not looking,
you could drop the big end of the pole into the
water, poke around a little on the bottom, and
haul up a ring. Maybe sometimes you 'd haul up
a dozen at once, all sticking together like a cluster
of grapes."
Whether Holman was in earnest, or was only
testing the credulity of us younger boys, I never
knew; but we took it all in good faith, and went
home that night to dream of loading our fingers
with rings, and spending sixty thousand dollars
divided into five shares. However Holman may
have been jesting in this scheme for acquiring a
fortune for himself, in a few days after he actually
entered upon a rather ludicrous performance to
get a little money for somebody else.
There were two Red Rovers in our town-in
fact, there were three. The reader has already
made the acquaintance of the fire-company and
engine known as Red Rover Three. A man who
had once belonged to that company, but was now
past the prime of life, and honorably retired from
the service, made his living by grinding knives and
But he was too much of a Yankee to go about
with a wheel in a little frame strapped upon his
back, and a bell in his hand, to be rung monoto-
nously from street to street. He built a peculiar
carriage,--a square framework, about four feet
high and six feet long,-running on four large
wheels, wherein was a bewildering mass of ma-
chinery. Standing behind it, and laying his

hands upon two great brass knobs, he walked
slowly through the streets, pushing it before him
in a dignified manner, to the awe of the boys and
the wonderment of the whole town. It went with
an easy motion, the wheels making only a sub-
dued and genteel noise. Surmounting it in front
was a large bell, which was struck at solemn and
impressive intervals. This apparatus both in-
creased his patronage and elevated the dignity of
the profession. He had no vulgar and noisy cry,
soliciting custom in a half-intelligible jargon.
People who wanted their scissors ground came to
the doors with them when they heard his bell.
Then the wheels of the chariot stopped, the
charioteer lifted his hat in salutation, and the nego-
tiation seemed like a matter of friendly 'favor,
rather than bargain and pay.
In order to grind, he opened a little gate in the
rear of the machine, stepped inside, closed the
gate behind him, and seated himself upon a small
shelf which was fastened to the gate. His feet
were then placed upon two pedals, and the ma-
chinery began to move.
Five small grindstones, of different sizes and
fineness, revolved before lIim. At his right hand
was a little anvil; at his left, a vise, and under it a
box of small tools.
About the middle of the machine, on the top,
was a small figure of a Scottish Highlander, with
bag-pipes under his arm. The bag-which was
of painted tin-was filled with water; and a plug,
withdrawn from the longest of the pipes, allowed
the water to trickle down upon the knife-wheel.
Scissors were generally ground on a dry wheel.
When the machinery was in motion, the pipes
played something, intended for music, between a
squeak and a whistle; so that when he was travel-
ing, the bell rang, and when he was grinding, the
pipes played.
On one of the front corners was a little bronze
bust of Washington, and on the other was one of
Franklin; between them was a clock, with a
marine movement.
The whole frame and running gear were painted
a bright red, and garnished with shining brass
ornaments. The man called his machine Red
Rover, after the beloved engine with which he used
to run, and the name appeared on the side in
brass letters. It seemed as if he must spend the
greater part of his earnings on its improvement
and embellishment. The man himself, whose hair
was broadly streaked with gray, was called the
Old Red Rover," and we never knew him by any
other name.
He lived in a little bit of a house by the canal;
and the machine, which was always kept in shin-
ing order, had to be taken in-doors every night.




How he managed to find room in the house for
himself, his wife, and his four children, besides the
machine, we could never imagine-and it was none
of our business. That little house by the canal
was as much the Old Red Rover's castle as the
palaces that you and I live in, dear reader, are ours.
I think it was a week after our conversation con-
cerning the Doge's rings, when, one Saturday, Ned
and I heard the bell ring, and saw the Red Rover
coming up the street, with Isaac Holman propelling
it, instead of its owner.
This was rather astonishing, and of course an
immediate explanation was demanded.
Why, you see," said Holman, "Mother had
been for a long time wishing the Old Red Rover
would come around, for every pair of scissors in
the house was as dull as a Dutch grammar. At
last she got tired waiting, and so I went to his
house with them. I found that he was laid up
with rheumatism, and had n't been out for five
weeks. It looked to me as if the family were on
short rations, and I began to think what I could do
for them. I thought the best thing would be, to
take the machine and spend the day in going
around grinding scissors', and at night take home
the money to the Old Red Rover."
"Yes," said Ned, "that 's the very best thing;
it's more fun than anything else you could have
thought of."
He was rather afraid to let me try it," con-
tinued Holman, "but Mrs. The-Old-Red-Rover was
greatly pleased with the idea, and soon persuaded
him. 'Be very tender with her-she 's the pride
of my life,' said he, as we rolled it out through
the door-way; and he did n't mean his wife-he
meant the machine."
We had often kept this machine companyas it
passed through the streets in charge of its owner,
and it was doubly interesting now when one of our
own number was allowed to run it. So of course
we went along with Holman on his benevolent tour.
Other boys also joined us, the unusually large
crowd attracted attention, we were all ready to
explain the situation to people who stood in the
doors or looked out through the windows, and the
result was that Holman had plenty of work. -
Soon after turning into West street, he began to
go much more slowly. At the house where Miss
Glidden had been living since the fire, nobody
appeared at door or window. It happened that
right here something got out of order in the
machine-at least, Holman said it did, and he had
to stop stock-still and tinker at it a long time; but
I was not able to see what was out of order.
At last Miss Glidden appeared at the door, and
inquired what was going on. Monkey Roe ran up
the steps and informed her.

It's entirely a work of mercy," said he, and
you 'd be doing a benevolent thing to give him as
many scissors as possible to sharpen."
Miss Glidden invited him in, and soon collected
three pairs of scissors and a pair of shears, which
she requested him to take out and have ground for
"Is this all you have?" said Monkey Roe, in
a tone signifying that he considered it a very
small crop.
"There may be more," said she. "Biddy,"-
to the servant,-"bring any scissors you have that
need grinding."
Biddy brought from the kitchen a pair that were
used to trim lamps.
"Is this all, Biddy ?" said Monkey.
"I don't know-I '11 see, sir," said Biddy; and
Monkey followed her to the kitchen.
Next to it he found a sort of combined work-
room and store-room, the door of which stood open,
and looking over its contents, he soon discovered
a pair of tinsmiths' shears, a pair of sheep-shears,
a drawing-knife, a coopers' adze, and a rusty broad-
ax, all of which, with the family carving-knife
brought by Biddy, he added to the collection of
scissors and shears brought to him by Miss Glid-
den, and then he came carefully down the steps
with the cutlery in his'arms.
Here, Holman," said he, Miss Glidden wants
you to sharpen these few things for the good
"Boni cani calcei/-Good gracious!" exclaimed
Holman, does she think I 'm Hercules? "
"No," said Monkey, in a low tone, "but I be-
lieve she thinks you 're Her-admirer."
"But I suppose it must be done," Isaac added,
not hearing Monkey's remark. And he took off
his jacket and went to work manfully.
The scissors were soon disposed of, as were also
the carving-knife and the drawing-knife; but the
other articles were somewhat troublesome. About
all he could do with the broad-ax was to grind off
the rust that completely coated it. The tinsmiths'
shears were a heavy job, and the sheep-shears
utterly baffled him, till at last he gave up trying to
sharpen them on the grindstone, and, finding a file
in the tool-box, applied that to their edges, against
the solemn protest of Monkey Roe, who declared it
would take the temper out of the steel.
"And when Miss Glidden sees them, it may
bring her temper out, too," he added.
"Can't help it," said Holman; "and now the
lot's finished, and you may take it in and collect
the pay."
He had just begun to study book-keeping, and
opening a little drawer in the machine, he'found
a scrap of paper and made out this bill:




To sharpening 3 prs. scissors, @ 6c.................. $0.18
2 shears, c 8c.................. 16
x tinsmiths' shears................ ..5
i sheep-shears ..................... io
i drawing-knife .................. ... 8
I adze. ......................... ... 6
broad-ax........................... 20
I carving-knife........................ 8
Received payment,
pr. Holman.

Monkey took this and the armful of cutlery, and
carried them in to Miss Glidden, who was some-
what surprised, as she had not known exactly what

you 've touched," said Phaeton. "Don't you
know that scissors must be ground on the edge of
the blade, not on the side, like a knife? If you
grind away the sides, the blades can't touch each
other, and so can't cut at all."
I declare, I believe that 's so," said Holman.
"I thought it was kind of queer that none of the
scissors would really cut anything; but I was sure
I had.made them sharp, and so supposed they
were all old, worn-out things that would n't cut, any
way. I guess you 'd better take my place, Fay."
Phaeton declined to do this, but went along as
confidential adviser.
We wound about through a great number of
streets, the accompanying crowd of boys being


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he was about. However, she laughingly paid the
bill, and he carefully piled the articles on the par-
lor table, and came away.
I observed that Holman put the dollar into the
drawer where he had put all the other money, but
the cent he put into his pocket. Then he took
another cent from another pocket, and threw it
into the drawer.
We had traveled perhaps half a mile farther,
and Holman had ground something like forty pairs
of scissors in all, when we were joined by Phaeton,
who watched him as he ground the next pair.
Is that the way you 've ground them all? said
he, when it was finished.
Yes, of course-why ? said Holman.
"Because if you have, you 've ruined every pair

sometimes larger and sometimes smaller, and
ground a great many knives and scissors.
On turning a corner into a by-street that bore
the proud name of Fairfax, we came suddenly upon
Jimmy the Rhymer. He was sitting on a bowlder,
with a quantity of printed bills over his left arm, a
paste-brush in his right hand, and a small bucket
of paste on the ground beside him. He looked
tired and melancholy.
The outward situation was soon explained. A
man who had kept a cobbler's shop for many
years, but had recently enlarged it into something
like a shoe-store, had employed us to print some
bills to be posted up on the fences and dead-walls,
announcing the event. They began with the
startling legend, printed in our largest type,






GO IT BOOTS which was followed by an ac-
count of the new store and new goods, written in
very elaborate and impressive style, the favorite
rhetorical figure being hyperbole.
Looking about for some one to post them who
would do it more cheaply than the regular bill-
poster of the town, the cobbler had thought 'of
Jimmy, who accepted the job because he wanted
to earn a little money.
"Are you sick, Jimmy? said Phaeton, observ-
ing his dejection.
Not in body," said Jimmy, but I am sick in
mind-sick at heart."
"Why, what 's the matter ?"
"Look at that," said Jimmy, slowly raising his
hand and pointing at one of the bills which he had
just posted on a barn-door. Go it Boots '"-
he quoted it very slowly. "What do I care about
going it boots ? I could n't go it boots if I wanted
to. There is no more going it boots for me in this
I don't quite understand you," said Phaeton.
I mean," said Jimmy, "that my soul yearns for
poetry-for the beautiful in nature and art. And
it disgusts me to think of spending my time in
spreading such literature through the world."
"That is n't complimentary to us," said Ned.
"We spent considerable time in printing it."
I suppose you get paid for it," said Phaeton.
Yes," said Jimmy, or I should n't do it."
"Then it seems to me," said Phaeton, "you
might look upon it as only so much drudge-work
done to purchase leisure and opportunity for the
work you delight in. Many famous men have
been obliged to get along in that way."
"Yes, cheer up," said Monkey Roe. Look at
us: we 're having lots of fun over drudgier work
than yours. Come along with us, and we '11 make
one circus of the whole thing-two entertainments
under one canvas, as the bills say. Holman has
plenty of help, so I '11 be your assistant."
And he took the brush and paste-bucket, while
Jimmy still carried the bills, and we all moved on.
As Jimmy walked beside the machine, he and
Holman resumed some former conversation.
Can't you make up your mind to do it, if I
double the price? said Holman.
"On the contrary," said Jimmy, "I 've made
up my mind that I wont do it, at any price."
"Why not? asked Holman.
"For two reasons," answered Jimmy. "One
is, that I don't think it 's honest to write such
things for anybody else to pass off as his own."
And the other ? said Holman.
"The other is," said Jimmy, speaking much
lower, but still so that I who was next to him could
hear, and I may as well tell you plainly, Isaac,-

the other is, that I have some hopes in that direc-
tion myself, and if I write anything more for her,
I '11 send it as my own."
You? said Holman, in astonishment.
Certainly," said Jimmy, with great coolness,
as if he felt himself master of the situation, and I
think my claim is better than yours. Whatever
there is between you and her-if there is anything
-is entirely of your seeking. But in my case it's
all of her seeking; she sent me flowers every day
when I was laid up."
"That's nothing-that does n't mean anything,"
said Holman.
"If it does n't, then I 've read the poets all
wrong," said Jimmy.
"Poetce afis suspensi!-poets be hanged!"
exclaimed Isaac, and then gave a prolonged whis-
tle, which closed the conversation.
Phaeton, who also had overheard, opened his
mouth as if to say something to Jimmy, but checked.
himself. Yet he was obliged to utter it somehow,
and so whispered in my ear: "If it comes to that,
my claim is even better than his, for she gave
flowers to me when I was not an object of pity."
The way Monkey Roe did that job created an
epoch in bill-posting. We passed the office of a
veterinary stirgeon, who had the skeleton of a
horse, mounted on a board, for a sign; and Monkey
whipped off one of the bills from Jimmy's arm,
and pasted it right across the skeleton's ribs.-
We came to a loaded coal-cart, broken down in
the street by the crushing of a wheel, and he pasted
one on that. We passed a tobacco-shop, in front
of which stood a life-size wooden statue of a bare-
legged and plaided Highlander; and Monkey
pasted a Go it Boots! on his naked shin.
We met a beggar who went about on two
crutches, but who was known to be an impostor;
and after he had passed us, a bill was on his coat-
tail, like the cheapest kind of April-fool.
We passed a windmill that had been put up as
an experiment, and had failed; and he pasted one
of the bills on each of the sails-revolving it enough
to bring each of them near the ground in turn-
and one on the door.
On whatever he saw that could n't go it at all, he
was sure to fasten this advice to go it boots. I
think Monkey was a very ironical boy.
There, Jimmy," said he, as he disposed of the
last bill, "you see it's only necessary to approach
your work in the right spirit to make it a pleasure,
as the school-master says."
About five o'clock in the afternoon, when we
were all pretty tired, we returned the Red Rover
safely to its home, and Holman gladdened Mrs.
The-Old-Red-Rover with more money than she
had seen in a long time, for which she was




very grateful. As we turned away, we met their
eldest boy, Johnny The-Old-Red-Rover, bringing
a basketful of bark which he had cut from the
oaken logs in the saw-mill yard. Before we were
out of sight of the house, the smoke curled out of
the little chimney, and I 've no doubt they cele-
brated the day with a joyful supper.
As we passed the Box, we stopped to speak with
Jack. He was flagging an express train that was
creeping slowly into the city, retarded by a hot
box. When it had reached the crossing, it stopped
entirely, and most of the passengers thrust their
heads out at the windows. One of these heads
came out in such a way as to be exactly face-to-face
with Jack, the interval between them being less
than a yard. Jack gave a piercing shriek, and fell
to the ground.
Phaeton and I ran to him, and picked him up.
He 's in a fit," said I.

"No," said Phaeton, "I think he has only
fainted. Bring water."
I found a pitcher-full in the Box, and we poured
it upon his face. This brought him to.
He looked about in a dazed way for a moment,
then seemed to recollect himself, and turned to-
ward the track. But the train had passed on.
Phaeton," said he, "will you please stand here
and flag a freight train that will come along in
about ten minutes? "
"Certainly, with pleasure," said Phaeton, re-
ceiving the flag.
"And after that has passed, haul down the red
ball, and run up the white one; then turn that
second switch and lock it."
"All right !" said Phaeton. I understand."
Jack then picked up his cap, and started on
a run, crossing the public square diagonally, tak-
ing the shortest route to the passenger station.

(To be conlim'ted.)

WHAT do they bring me at morn and noon,
And what do they bring me at night?
A bonny blue bowl, and a silver spoon,
All polished so smooth and so bright, so bright.
This do they bring me at morn and noon,
And this do they bring me at night.

What do I see in my bonny blue bowl,
To eat with my silver spoon ?
Crusty crumbs of a baker's roll,
And milk as white as the moon, the moon.
This do I find in my bonny blue bowl,
To eat with my silver spoon.




* -"



OH, the Dragon-fly opened a nice dancing-
On a broad lily-pad, in a deep, quiet pool.
" Professor Neuropter," his business cards read
When to teach fancy dancing he adver-tis-ed.

The school, though not large, was, as one
might expect
From the tone of the master, extremely select;
And all the first families gave their consent,
So gayly the young to the dancing-school went.




The tadpoles and lizards and pollywogs came,
And other fair reptiles too many to name;
The chelonians to send their small turtles
were glad,
And a few midgets danced on the green lily-pad.

Batrachians and saurians with insect-tribes met
Here, friendly and courteous, were joined in
a set.
And well the school flourished through bright
summer days,
And the progress it made was well worthy of

So esteemed was Professor Neuropter by all,
That they voted to give him a benefit ball
At the end of the term, which was coming
quite soon;
And the night they selected was that of full

Ere long came the evening; the great moon
shone bright
O'er the shimmering pool on this gay festal
More lily-pads widened the floor to good size,
And for lighting they hir-ed a hundred fire-

Spectators assembled to view the fair scene
Of that gor-ge-ous ball on the lily-pads green;

The orchestra tun-&d the instruments all,
As the gay little people marched in for the hall.

Mr. Frog played the fiddle with infinite grace,
And Beetle chimed in with his big double bass;
Professor Mosquito the orchestra led,
And a wasp on a wind-harp ac-com-pan-i-ed.

Then swift flew the dancers to music so sweet,
And as swift flew the hours, for the joy was
But ah comes too soon the sad part of my tale,
When the red rising sun makes the fire-flies
grow pale.

For alas! while the morning hours dancing
they spend,
The revelers little suspect their sad end;
Still reeling they go in the midst of a dance,
While death o'er the water doth swiftly advance.

For, weary with searching and finding no food,
A duck glides along with her large hungry
The hum of the orchestra falls on her ear-
Behold what a banquet is waiting her here!

They quietly gather around that hall gay,
Each bill poised above its un-con-sci-ous prey;
One snap, and the ducklings have breakfasted
And here ends my tale,-and the benefit ball.






"WHO was the Boomeo Boy?" asked Ethel, as
she sat in her father's lap, before the fire, while
Willie was balancing himself on the embroidered
foot-rest, after the manner of a circus-rider on the
back of a horse.
Why, my child," said her father, "have n't I
often told you the verses beginning:

There 's a sound on the highway, a sound on the by-way,
A note as of musical joy;
Oh, run you, Maria, and light up the fire,
For here comes the Boomeo Boy 1 "

"Oh, yes," said Ethel, "but you never go on
any further. I don't know who Maria was, nor who
the Boomeo Boy was, nor what they wanted to
light a fire for."
Yes," added Willie, "and I don't believe there
ever was any Boomeo Boy."

Oh, wont you believe it? oh, wont you receive it?
Oh, say, do you think it's a toy?
Oh, run get the water, my son and my daughter,
For here comes the Boomeo Boy!"

"Is that the second verse?" asked Ethel. "I
never heard it before."
"Nor I, neither," said Willie. "But what did
they want the water for? Was it a toy, or was it a
real live boy? and why did they call him Boomeo?
Was that his first name or his father's name ? I
wish you would tell me all about him, Father."

Oh, say, would you rather I 'd be a good father,
And never my children annoy?
Or tell of the fairy, so very unwary,
Who was caught by the Boomeo Boy?"

"I don't understand you one bit," said Ethel to
her father. "Are you making it all up, or is that
the third verse? Now, begin at the beginning,
and go right straight on to the end. Begin in the
regular way, you know: 'Once upon a time there
was a boy named Boomeo, and he lived-in a cave
or something-and '--"

He caught her. He caught her-the witch's fair daughter-
And taught her a different employ:
He first tried to throttle her-then tried to bottle her-
Terrible Boomeo Boy! "

"Please, Father, do tell us all about it; in the
right way !" cried little Ethel. Don't tease us any
more. You have so often said you would tell us
all about the Boomeo Boy, and yet you have never
gone any further than the first verse, about
'Run you, Maria, and light up the fire.'"

Oh, yes, please do!" chimed in Willie. I do
so want to hear about it all."

He lighted a taper, and searched through the vapor,
Determined to save or destroy;
From above, and from under, with a shout as of wonder,
They sat on the Boomeo Boy."

"Well, Father," said Willie, "I think you
might tell us I don't care to hear any more
of this story. It troubles me so. I can not make
it out. Who sat down on the Boomeo Boy? And
what did they do it for? "
"A terrible rattle, which seemed like a battle,
With shootings of Vive le Roi,'
Was heard on the highway, was heard on the by-way
And he vanished-the Boomeo Boy."

"Is that the end of it?" asked little Ethel.
" Dear me, I do wish I knew what it all meant."
"Well, now, my dear children," replied their
father, I will tell you all about it, honor bright,
from the very beginning, and with no poetry in it."
So they nestled in their father's arms, and he
told them the story of the Boomeo Boy.
You remember reading, a few months ago, a
story in ST. NICHOLAS" about 'Mumbo Jumbo,'
who roams among the native tribes in Africa, and
what a curious fellow he is, and what queer things
he does. Well, when I was a little boy, I went
away alone by myself to Brazil. It was a very
long voyage, and we had a great many adventures
on the way. At last, after forty days at sea, we
arrived at Pernambuco, a- city in the empire of
Brazil. Here I spent the winter on a large planta-
tion, traveling about the country, and visiting
the different towns and villages, and seeing the
many strange sights of that foreign land. One city
which I used to visit was named Olinda. It was
directly on the ocean, and was made up of, a great
number of churches and convents. Another place,
where I very frequently staid with some friends,
was named Cashingar, after a city in Persia. It
was here that I saw the real live Boomeo Boy.
One day, as I was playing with the little children
and the poor little black slaves, in the court-yard of
the plantation, I heard the lady of the house call
out: 'Run, Maria! Light the fire-the Boomeo
Boy is coming '
As she said this, we could hear the noise of a
great company of people, with drums and trump-
ets, coming down the road. They all were black
slaves, but they were dressed in white and pink

* ST. NICHOLAS for April, 1881.




and yellow ribbons, and they had feathers and fans,
and flags and banners, and they were dancing and
jumping from side to side on the dusty road. They
had one old slave in a chair; he was their king.
He had a paper crown on his head, and a gilt stick
or scepter in his hand. This king of theirs was the
descendant of their real king when they lived in
Africa, before they were captured and brought as
slaves to Brazil. They carried him along on a sort
of sedan chair on their shoulders, and paid him
the greatest honor, kneel-
ing down'to him every lit- ---
tle while, and prostrating -- --:;:..-
themselves before him.
This day was one of the
great festival days, and
all the slaves belonging
to this tribe were allowed
to go out on a picnic into
the country, and keep up
their tribe honors.
"But back of all these
slaves there was a man
with a big false head,
which he carried on a
pole. He made it go up
and down, and turned it
sidewise and every way.
The face was a dreadful '
thing, and looked like the
face of an ogre, or of a gi-
ant. This man was called
the 'Boomeo Boy,' be-
cause he would cry out
'Boom! boom!' which
was the same as saying,
'Look out-here I come!'
The slaves would make
fun of him, and laugh at
him, and sing bits of song
at him-something like
the verses I have been
repeating to you, and
then the Boomeo Boy
would run after them, -
and try to catch them.
"As he passed by the
gardens and plantations,- -
he would leap over the Ti
hedges and walls, steal
fruit, and frighten the chickens; but wherever the
people lighted a bonfire, there he could not enter.
"There was one woman in the procession who
was dressed as a witch, and she had her little
daughter dressed like a fairy. The witch and the
fairy would teaze the big ogre, and then he would
chase them; but if any person threw a bucket of

water between the witch and the Boomeo Boy, it
broke the spell, and the Boomeo Boy would have
to give up the chase.
Some people have thought that, in these plays,
those poor slaves were keeping up the old customs
which they had in Africa, and that the Boomeo Boy
meant the Evil One, or an evil spirit. Other
people say that the Boomeo Boy stands in these
games for the slave-hunters who captured the poor
blacks, and burned their villages, and took men,



women, and children away in the slave-ships, and
that the fire and the water stand for the burning
villages and the ocean. But I only remember, as
a little boy, standing by the window of the planta-
tion-house in Cashingar, and seeing the crowd of
slaves go by, their old king at their head, crying
out: 'Boomeo Boy Boomeo Boy "






_-- --

I WANT to tell you about something that hap-
pened many years ago in the town of Nantucket.
Quite on the brow of the highest hill stood a
curious old-fashioned mill, the sails of which were
so long that they nearly touched the ground, and
of course they rose almost as high above the top of
the mill when they were whirled up by theivind.
Near this old windmill the miller lived, with
his wife and two children.

_-- -- "
- .

John was a sturdy, sun-browned boy, two years
older than Dorothy, but he was very good and
gentle to her, for he loved his sister dearly, and
spent much of his time playing with her. They
were always happy together, and in summer,
when the weather was fine, they used to tail a tiny
boat on one of the many ponds. Their little craft
was not a French toy with painted hull and gay
streamers, but a plain affair which their father
had made for them in the long evenings, and it
had a coarse bit of cotton for a sail. But that did





not matter. No, indeed! They tied a string at
either end, and as the ponds were very shallow, they
waded about, pulling it merrily from side to side,
using all kinds of real ship names and words,
which they had learned from the sailors.
So the summers flew away until, alas John was
thought old enough to be sent to school, and poor
little Dorothy was left to play all alone. She was

I', -



At last, she began going with her father to the
mill; and all day she flitted about, as busy as a
bee, and humming as cheerily.
Sometimes she would lie on the grass and watch
the mill-sails as they swept slowly down, and rose
again on the other side,-thinking all sorts of odd
thoughts about them. One day, while she was
lazily watching them, she had a bright idea. What
fun! Springing up, she waited for a sail to come
within her reach, and caught it, holding on until it
lifted her off her feet. and then she let go, and

N' '

I~, 4




_1-- -- --- :7

-- --


44P ~p''5

a helpful little girl, and saved the mother many seized another, and another, until she was tired.
steps. Still, she found her play-time very dull, Day after day she amused herself thus; and when
because she did n't care any longer for the boat. Saturday came, she brought John to see the sport.
VOL. VIII.-54.




She had become too well acquainted with her
great friend, the mill, to have any fear of it, and
each time she trusted herself to its arms, she let
them carry her a little higher, so that she began to
see a long way off, over the land and the ocean.
What a heroine she must seem to her brother,-
she thought,-for he had never tried it, not once.
Elated by her success, she sprang upon the sail for
a last ride, as it was dinner-time. Looking back
over her shoulder to see the effect of her daring
upon John, she clung a little longer than she
meant to, and in a twinkling she found that she
could see farther away than she had ever dreamed.
There was the harbor, with its white sails set to
dry. She could look away down into the town,
and see the people in the streets.
There, too, was the Sankety Head light, so far
away; now she must be as high as the tall light-
house. Thoroughly frightened, yet not daring to
let go at this dizzy height, she began to cry.
She saw her mother coming to call them to
dinner, and she thought, poor little girl, "I shall
never see my dear mother again "
Higher and still higher she flew, her dress float-
ing out on the wind, and her poor little heart nearly
bursting with terror and grief.

She did not see John, so pale with fear, nor did
she hear her father cry: "Oh, my child will be
killed! My poor little girl!"
She had now only eyes and ears and thought for
that terrible journey, and once she wondered if she
were going to heaven, for she was sure it could not
be much higher than she had risen. Still she
clung tightly, and at last she shut her eyes.
The top once reached, slowly the sail, with its
precious burden, began to descend. How they all
watched it! Nobody spoke, and they hardly
dared breathe. L6wer and lower it came, until
within a few feet of the ground, when Dorothy
opened her eyes, and, overcome with a sense of
safety, her little fingers unclasped, and down she
She fell pretty hard, but, luckily, there are no
stones in Nantucket, so no bones were broken;
but her head had such a bump that she saw bright
lights flashing, and heard a hum of strange sounds;
and soon her poor back began to ache, and her
head felt sore, and she opened her eyes once more
to find herself safe in her dear father's arms; and
then they all wept together for thankfulness.
And this was the last ride that Dorothy ever
took on the sails of the old windmill.

THERE was a little girl,
And she had a little curl
Right down in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good
She was very, very good,
But when she was bad she was horrid.

There was. a little boy,
And he had a fur cap
Which came to the middle of his forehead.
And when he was cold
He was very, very cold,
But when he was warm he was torrid.






ST. FRANCIS lived in Italy in the thirteenth
century, and founded the order of friars called
the Franciscans. He was noted for his piety, his
hatred of all quarrels, and the great kindness of
his heart. He loved animals, and was gentle to
them, even in an age when human life and suffer-
ing were of small account. He loved to wander
alone over the beautiful Umbrian mountains, sing-
ing hymns that told of his joy in the light of the
sun and moon, and of his love for the birds and
animals, whom he called his "brothers and sisters."
It is said that once he saw a number of birds
together, and, coming up, talked to them in such
gentle tones about God's care for them that they
did not fly away, but, waving their wings, looked
up at St. Francis with their bright eyes, as if they
could understand what he said; and I have no
doubt that they did understand that he loved
them. When he walked in the fields, the sheep
and their young lambs would follow him; and
even hares and rabbits would yield to his gentle
power, winning tones and looks, and, drawing
near, would nestle in his bosom.
One day, he was passing through a meadow,
when he saw one little lamb feeding in the midst
of a flock of goats; and he was filled with pity,
fearing that they might hurt it in some way. He
longed to get the lamb out of danger, and wanted
to buy it and take care of it himself; but he had
no money. While he was grieving about it, a rich
man came by, and him he persuaded to buy the
lamb. The man then gave the timid little creature
to St. Francis, and it fed gladly from his hand, and
laid its head in his bosom.
Whenever St. Francis found helpless insects in
his path, he gently lifted them out of the way, so
that they might not be trodden on, nor injured.
The grasshoppers would alight on his friendly
hand and play their fiddles to him; and at one
time a lark, whose nest was near his cell, and
who had become used to his loving voice and
quiet movements, brought her little nestlings to
be fed from his hand.
Perhaps we all might live on such kindly terms
with the wild creatures of the wood and field, if
only we should love them as he loved them. I
remember that the sparrows would alight upon my
father's head and hand while he was resting in the
porch, and the bees would walk about over his
hands without stinging him, although they would

quickly and fiercely drive away an intruder whom
they did not trust.
Nathaniel Hawthorne tells us, in his story The
Marble Faun," of a young man who had taught
the dumb creatures in his native woods to love him
and come at his call. But afterward he had the
misfortune to slay a human being, and then the
shy animals fled from him, as if they had been
told of the crime of their formerly guiltless friend.
No doubt they felt the changed tone of his voice
and the restlessness of his movements.
St. Francis of Assisi loved especially the birds,
and of all birds he loved best the dove; but many
beautiful stories are told about him and the swal-
lows that chirped and nested under the eaves of
his dwelling, of the multitudes of birds upon the
lagoons of Venice, and of the nightingale that sang
near him at night. He once saw a young man
going to town, carrying some doves for sale; and
he begged so tenderly for them that they were
given to him. He put them in his bosom, and
carried them home, where he made a nest for
them and tended them until they learned to eat
from his hands in perfect trust.
He had a friend, Antony of Padua, who was full
of the same spirit of peacefulness and loving good-
will. This man was an eloquent preacher, and in
his sermons he told the people, who crowded to
hear him, about the gentleness and whiteness of
the swans, the mutual love of the storks, and the
purity and fragrance of the blossoms; and he tried
to show how beautiful is a life of love and peace.
The country was full of wars, and quarrels, and
oppressions, but Antony bravely went among the
roughest men in the wildest places, to help the poor
and ill-treated, and to tell the truth to all. St.
Francis and he were wonderfully patient and lov-
ing toward dumb creatures, and believed strongly
in the good that the animals do and might be
brought to do. And soit was not so very strange
that people who knew them should believe the
pretty tale that these kind men preached to the
birds and fishes who crowded to listen to their lov-
ing words. Perhaps the story was not true; but it
is true that all men should be gentle to the creat-
ures of earth, air, and water, as were the good St.
Francis of Assisi and Antony, his friend.
It is pleasant to hear of men like these, who, even
hundreds of years ago, were such stanch lovers
and defenders of our lowly fellow-creatures.








THE Amazon is not quite the longest American
river, for the distance from the head-waters of the
Missouri to New Orleans is a little farther than
from Para to the sources of the Patamayo; but in
breadth and depth the Amazon surpasses all other
streams in the world. The reason is this: while
the largest tributaries of the Mississippi flow
through arid highlands, the valley of the Amazon
is covered with continuous and evergreen forests,
that yield more water for every acre of ground
than our western sand-hills yield from a square
mile of surface.
When we first came in sight of the monster
stream, it would have been easy to persuade us that
we were standing at the brink of a large lake : the
opposite shores looked like a hazy, blue ridge, ris-
ing here and there above a belt of wooded islands,
many of them with hills and valleys of their own.
Sea-gulls flew up and down the shore, and in the

deep water, amid-stream, splashed fish that would
not have found much play-room in the so-called
"big rivers" of western Europe.
The Amazon abounds with sharks and sweet-
water dolphins, besides alligators, and those curious
creatures called manatees,-half fish, half sea-cow,
-fat, club-tailed monsters, with whale-heads and
hand-like flippers. These strange creatures already
have been described and pictured for you in an
early number of ST. NICHOLAS.*
We stood upon a rocky bluff that would have
made a fine camping-ground, but our empty mess-
bag reminded us that we wanted to reach the Mis-
sion of San Tomas that day, and, if possible, in
time to hire a sail-boat before night. Strange
birds fluttered about the trees, and seemed to
deliver the greeting of the Brazilian virgin-woods;
among them were piping toucans and drumming
king-woodpeckers, with black wings and yellow
heads; but we restrained our hunting propensities
until we approached a reedy thicket, where Rough

* See ST. NICHOLAS for February, 1874.



summoned us with a bay that he never wasted on
small game. We had seen tapir-tracks near the
shore, and the boys entered the cane-brake at a


double-quick: a young tapir was one of the things
we were most anxious to get.
"Come here, quick! cried Tommy, from the
thicket. "It's worth while-two young pumas or
panthers, I don't know which."
"What is it, Menito?" I called out.
"I can't tell," he replied. "They do not look
like pumas; they must be jaguars; but it 's worth
while. They are pretty big fellows, and this gives
us a chance to try our catch-net. Rough has treed
them where they can't get away!"
The cubs or kittens had taken refuge on a little
plum-tree, and they received us with hissing growls;
but our catch-net was just the thing for customers
of that sort; it was shaped like a butterfly-catcher,
but with a larger hoop, and instead of gauze, the
net-work was made of strong and elastic cords.
While we watched the tree, Menito fastened the
net to a pole, and, seeing, him come, the kittens
seemed to take a sudden dislike to their perch;
but they were too late. One we caught in the act
of jumping off, and the other was kept at bay until
we had time to attend to him. All their tricks
were in vain; when they had satisfied themselves
that the net could not be broken, we pinned them
to the ground with forked sticks, and, putting on a
pair of buckskin mittens, Menito secured them
without endangering his skin, although they
worked their claws with desperate energy.

Hurry up !" cried an Indian boy, who had fol-
lowed us from the road. Here comes the old one
-look out! and almost at the same moment we
heard our dog rushing through the thicket,
with a howl of terror, straight toward the
river, as it seemed, for, in the next min-
ute, a double splash told us that pursued
and pursuer had taken to the water.
Before gunpowder was invented, hunters
were sometimes obliged to "run down"
their game, and I have often wondered
how they could manage it, for imminent
danger seems almost to double the swift-
ness of a fugitive animal.
Rough was by no means a good swim-
mer, but, when we reached the shore, we
saw him dash .through the water like a
fish-otter,-not the least bit too quick,
though, for the jaguar was close at his
heels, and, to our consternation, the only
gun we had brought along missed fire, and
HBw there was no time to run back to the road.
We gave up the dog for lost, as we saw
him make an ineffectual attempt to land
on a swampy reed-bank, while the pursuer
prepared to intercept his retreat. All at
once, however, the jaguar turned swiftly,
and, with a scream of rage, struck out to
get away from a place where a visible reddening of
the water suggested the explanation of his maneu-
ver. Some monster of the river-deep-a shark
or a gavial-had seized him from below, little
knowing that its sharp teeth would save the life of
another fellow-creature. The jaguar struck out for
the lower end of the island, and had just strength
enough left to drag himself into the reeds, while
Rough paddled back to the shore, and, without
waiting to shake himself, raced around us in a
very frenzy of joy that he had reached the land
"Will you let me carry that gun of yours,
please ?" asked the little Indian lad, when we got
back to the road.
"Never mind, sonny," said I. "What do you
want to carry it for?"
"I want to earn a quarter of a dollar," said he,
"to buy a picture of my patron-saint, so that I can
go to heaven, where they make butter-tortillas [a
sort of pancakes]. Butter makes them much mel-
lower, you know; my mother always fries them
with fish-oil."
All right," I laughed. I will give you half a
dollar if you will show us the way to San Tomas,
and hunt up a good river-pilot. Do you think you
could find one ?"
"Por mii f sagrada [on my sacred word], sir,
I '11 do that," said the little fellow. Just come




along,"-and he rushed ahead, almost beside
himself with excitement, and, when we finally
sighted our destination on the ridge of a treeless
bluff, he pointed out the missionary's house, and
then ran down to the river to fulfill the second part
of his contract.
The kind friar took us to a store where we could
buy all the provisions we wanted, and then sent a
special messenger to the river, as our little guide
had not yet returned. After an hour or so, they
both came back, the boy crying as if his heart
would break, and the messenger very sorry, as he
said, to inform us that all the falucas, or sail-boats,
excepting one, had been hired by a merchant to
go up the river with a cargo of flour, and the one
going down had started the evening before with a
load of dye-wood.
"Whose is it? Who shipped the dye-wood?"
asked the friar.
"Moro, the Mil Negocios [Jack-at-all-trades],
as they call him," said the messenger.
"Oh, you are all right, then, after all," said the
friar. "I know him; he always stops a day or

in your place, I should try to get something better
than fish-cakes. Yes, run and tell the old man to
wait for us."
That seemed really the best plan, and as
Cafiamo was only twelve English miles from the
Mission, we decided to go down that same evening
and sleep on board of the faluca, in the open
river, where the mosquitoes would not bother us
so much.
Master Moro, the Jack-at-all-trades, proved to
be a quadroon from the West Indian Islands, and
the appearance of his faluca seemed to justify
his by-name. His cabin was a "variety store of
dry-goods and hardware; on the forecastle he had
a shoe-maker's shop of his own, and in the caboose
an assortment of all kinds of fishing-tackle and
Of his skill in the use of the harpoon, he gave
us a proof the next morning, when a school of
manatees came puffing up the river. Before they
reached us, he slackened his tiller-ropes to muffle
the rushing of the keel water, and when they
passed us, though still at a distance of thirty yards,

S, ia (



two at Cafiamo to take in a load of tortoise-eggs, his harpoon went whizzing into the midst ot them
You can overtake him yet." -and not at random, either, for the spear-point
Oh, yes! let me go cried the boy. I will struck the very biggest in the lot, through the cen-
tell him to wait for you; I can run down there and ter of the fin into the body, thus getting a double
back in less than four hours." hold in the scaly skin. A dozen school-boys, kick-
Yes, you ought to," said Menito. "If I were ing and splashing in a pond, could not have made




more noise than that one manatee. It struck out
left and right with its clumsy tail, and spattered us
with such showers of water that it would soon have
turned the joke against us, if the skipper had not
hauled it alongside and finished it with a few blows
of a heavy oar.
It weighed at least three hundred pounds, and
we could have bought it for as many cents, but
we had no room for pets of that sort, so the Moro
lugged it to the next landing and sold it to the
natives for a car-load of bananas.
River-dolphins, too, were following us in shoals,
though with all the discretion of their salt-water
relatives, to whom the ancient Greeks ascribed a
more than human sagacity.- They followed in our
wake, and played all, around us in wanton mirth,
but always just out of reach of the. skipper's har-
poon, and their merry gambols were so entertain-
ing that we should have thought it a shame to
shoot them.
"You were talking about tapirs, last night,"
said the skipper, when our boat skirted the swamp-
belt of the southern shore. There is one, now, in
that bog ahead there; not a large one, though; it 's
a 'squealer,' as we call them, about half-grown."
"Why, that 's just what we want!" cried
Tommy. "Oh, don't!" he added, when the
Moro reached for his harpoon. "Could n't we
manage to get it alive ? "
I believe we could," said the skipper. "Just
keep quiet a moment. It will take its time about
wading that bog, if we don't scare it. We might
contrive to catch it in the water, or with my lariat
if it gets ashore."
The bog was on a little island near the shore,
and was surrounded by a brake of matted bulrushes
that concealed us until we almost intercepted the
retreat of our game; for, just when the squealer
took to the water, the Moro ran his boat alongside,
and, swinging up his oar, dealt it a stunning whack
over the head-a death-blow it would have been to
any less thick-skulled animal. Even the tapir
staggered, as it attempted to land, and we hoped
the skipper would catch it in the water. Rowing
through tangled reeds is hard work, though, and
when we finally gained the strand at the foot of a
ravine, the tapir had already landed and struggled
up the steep bank. "It 's stunned; it can not get
away cried the Moro, as he leaped ashore, lariat
in hand. Quick, now-let's head it off, before it
gets up to the top of that bluff! "
While we ran up the ravine, Menito scaled the
rock like a cat, and reached the top in time to
drive the tapir to the left, where the Moro soon

overtook it with his lariat. The second throw hit
it over the head, but a tapir has hardly any neck
at all, and, making a sudden rush, the squealer
had already slipped the rope over its breast and
shoulders, when the Moro pulled back, and the
rope tightened around the tapir's body. The ani-
mal was far too strong for one man to hold, and it
soon would have broken away, if we had not caught
the rope in time-Tommy and I first, and Menito
at the slippery end, where he had to twist in his
handkerchief to get a good grip, for the tapir was
now running down-hill toward a swampy creek on
the other side of the bluff.
Hold him! Hold him, boys! yelled the Moro,
and we all tried, our best, but so did the squealer,
and it soon proved to be the best boy in the
crowd. Having now recovered from the effects of
the blow, -it fairly ran away with us all, although
I dug my heels into the ground and braced myself
with all my might.
Tengala-hitch it-hitch the rope cried the
skipper; but that was easier said than done. Not
a tree nor a bush was in sight, and the loose rocks
rolled down-hill as soon as we touched them, and,
to make matters worse, Menito suddenly let go,
being quite out of breath with laughing. The
Moro slipped, and, stumbling backward, knocked
the rope out of my hand, and poor Tommy alone
was unable to stem the tide of defeat. In spite of
Rough's barking, and the dreadful imprecations of
the skipper, the squealer now redoubled its speed
until it rushed headlong into- the swamps below.
A splash-and Tommy lay prostrate on his back,
while away went our tapir at top speed, Menito's
handkerchief fluttering in the rear like a pilot-flag.
Menito was almost choked with laughing, and the
affair was really too ludicrous to scold about it,
although the skipper insisted that we must pay
him for his lost lariat.
It was all Menito's fault," said he; his laugh-
,ing and hooting would have scared a saint, not to
mention a squealer."
On our return to the boat, we found that the
little jaguars had broken jail and taken refuge on
the back of our old mule, whose efforts to break
the halter had almost dislocated her neck. Daddy
Simon was at his wit's end; he had no right to let
our pets escape, but whenever he approached
them with the catch-net, their antics threw the
mule into a new fit of terror. The skipper, how-
ever, cut matters short by slipping his hawser, and
driving the cubs overboard when our boat was in
deep water, where we soon caught them with nets
and poles.

(To be continued.)






I HAVE said it a great many times,
But I think I will say it again;
There is no one, except my mamma and papa,
That I love as I love Mary Jane.

Antoinette has most lovely real hair,
And is dressed in the very last style,
But I somehow could shake her (and sometimes
I do!)
For her one everlasting old smile.

If I squeeze Baby Belle, she will cry-
Or she thinks so; I call it a squeak-
And Dolores' mantilla is- made of black lace,
And my pretty French Lulu can speak.

But who, of them all, do you think,
Staid in bed with me when I was ill?
Oh, you need n't deny it! She did make a
Whenever they gave me a pill!

And I know that, whatever they say,
It was hearing me gasp with that cough,
And trying, the darling, to help hold my
That made her poor arms both come off.

And she did n't so much as once squirm,
When Mamma sewed them on, though I know
It must have hurt dreadfully-that 's how she
is !
She always considers me so!

She knew I was ready to cry,
So she just held as still as a mouse.
If a needle 'd gone into me so, only once,
You 'd have heard me all over the house!

I think I will put her to sleep;
It is time little girls were in bed.
There, hushaby, darling, lie still in my arms-
You are sleepy, you're nodding your head!

Hush, hushaby baby, hush, hush!
Your mother is holding you tight;
She will hear you, my darling, and hug you
right off,
If you wake up afraid in the night.

I think-she is nearly-asleep !
Yes, precious, your-mother is-here.
You can-go to sleep-safely-for she '11-stay-
And-will-not-let-go-of-you- dear!






AMONG the discoveries made recently in the
great dead sea of the West, were some gigantic
oyster-shells, more than six feet long, each pair of
which once contained an animal that the average
boy-reader of ST. NICHOLAS could not lift. In
other localities, shells of but one valve were found
fifteen feet long, and each of these was inhabited
by a cuttle-fish, that forced itself through the water
by a method like that used to shoot a rocket up

into the air; and some authorities say that these
cuttle-fish attained a length of even thirty feet.
These long fellows had a long name, Orthocerotite,
and they had a cousin, the Ammonite, which grew
as large as a cart-wheel.
Such were some of the shells of a thousand years
ago; to-day the only really large shell is of the
clam family. It is named Tridacna gigas, and is
found in the Pacific Ocean; the length of its life




being sixty or seventy years. It grows imbedded the picture. Swimming along in search of food,
in the coral, and is fastened to the rocks by a cord he unwarily passed into the door-way of the great
called the byssus, which is so tough that it can only clam's house, his tail rudely striking the animal.
be cut with an ax. The shells themselves are six Like a flash the tremendous jaws.snapped together,
feet long, each valve weighing more than two hun- squeezing the man-eater as if he were in a vise, and
dred and fifty pounds; while the animal part often rendering him utterly powerless. As the tide went
weighs thirty or forty pounds. When alive, the down, the shark's head appeared above water,
tridacna lies with its great valves ajar, capturing thrashing about and churning up the sea. The
any food that may pass within the scalloped edges. hubbub attracted the attention of some natives,
A shark was once caught in this way, as shown in who soon captured both shark and clam.



NELLY stood in a pensive attitude, with her fore-
head pressed against the window.
"What is the matter, Nelly ? asked Aunt
"Nothing," said Nelly, with a little sigh.
"Only, Aunt Fanny," she continued, after a
pause, "you 're all very good and kind to me
here, but, you see, I 've got nothing to pet. Now,
at home, there's the baby and Gip,-that's my
dog,-and two cats, and, 'most always, there are
four or five kittens. But here the old cat lives in
the barn, and the kittens wont let me come near
them. And Gnash, he just growls if I go past his
kennel; and Noble 's no good-he 's so old and
lazy he does n't do anything but wag his tail, if I
pet him ever so much. I 've tried to make friends
with the calf, but it just tosses up its head and
frisks off. Even the pigs think themselves so
much above me they only turn up their noses and
grunt at me. So I don't know what I shall do for
something to pet and cuddle."
Aunt Fanny smiled at the story of Nelly's woes,
but she was sorry for the little girl, although she
could see no way to help her.
Nelly's home was in a town, and she was now
making a visit to Grandpapa and Aunt Fanny, on
the old farm where her mammna was born. She
had had a fine time, on the whole. She had
tossed hay in the meadow and ridden home upon
the load, behind the two great, meek, patient oxen.
She had hunted for eggs in the barn, and watched
the hens strutting about and clucking so proudly
with their bits of soft, downy chicks behind them.
She had explored every foot of the woods, and
found all sorts of treasures in the shape of flowers
and moss, acorn-cups and curious stones. She had
even learned to milk a little; but all this was getting

to be an old story, now, and she began to feel
homesick and forlorn, longing for the sight of her
mamma's face, and for the sound of the baby's
merry voice. If she could only have something to
pet, she would not feel quite so badly, she thought,
but, so far, she had wished for it in vain.
"Nelly, come out here," called Aunt Fanny from
the poultry-yard one morning, a day or two later.
Nelly ran out, and found Aunt Fanny looking at
something which lay at her feet. What a melan-
choly sight! There lay the prettiest hen in the
poultry-yard, Downy Blueskin, on her back, stiff
and stark. How had it happened? Nobody knew,
but one thing was certain, she was dead, and she
had left a miserable little brood of helpless chick-
ens behind her. Nelly looked at the little things
trotting about so busily, quite unconcerned at the
sad fate of their mother. Suddenly, she burst
into a shout of surprise and delight.
"Why, Aunt Fanny one of the chickens is a
duck! she cried. "Just look at its funny little
flat bill and the cunning little webs on its feet.
Oh, Aunt Fanny! If I could only have this dar-
ling little thing for my own! "
Aunt Fanny laughed.
"It will need a great deal of care, Nelly," she
said, "but you can have it, if you want it. After
all, it will not be much loss if it does die under
your hands. I dare say it would n't have lived to
grow up, anyhow."
Oh, Aunt Fanny, it sha' n't die! cried Nelly,
eagerly. "I 'll take the very bestest care of it, and
it'll grow up the pride of the yard-you '11 see."
Nelly caught up her "dear Ducky Daddies," as
she called it, and ran into the house. She made
for it a bed in a basket lined with soft flannel, and
fed it on Indian-meal and water. Rather to Aunt



Fanny's surprise, her care of it never relaxed, and
her interest never flagged.
"I do believe Ducky Daddies is beginning to
know me," Nelly said, one day. He flopped out
of his basket, and waddled up to me on his funny
little feet as soon as I came into the room."
"Most likely he was hungry," said Aunt Fanny,
who could not all at once bring herself to believe
in the affection of a duck.
Nelly was sure he knew her, though, and, after
a while, the rest began to believe it, too. When
he was old enough to waddle about at his own will,
no dog was ever more devoted to his master than
Ducky Daddies was to Nelly. He had a soul
above his kind, and he scorned the companionship
of the common barn-yard fowl. It was the funni-
est thing in the world to see Nelly's queer pet
waddling after her wherever she went, and quack-
ing out his affection, or lying patiently by her side,
with his soft eyes fixed upon her face.
Even the water could not tempt him away from
his little mistress; but Nelly was considerate of a
duck's feelings. Twice a day, regularly, she
would take her books or her work down to the
duck-pond, and sit there while Ducky Daddies

came when Nelly must leave the farm to go back
to her town home. "What will be the best way
to carry Ducky, Aunt Fanny?" she asked, inno-
cently, the last evening.
Aunt Fanny's eyes twinkled, and she looked at
Nelly's papa, who had come for her.
"What is it you want to take home, Nelly?" he
asked,-"not that great drake? Oh, nonsense,
child! You will have to leave it behind, of course.
You could n't take it, in the first place, and, if you
could, you would have nowhere to keep it after
reaching home."
Nelly turned quite pale with consternation.
Leave her dear Ducky Daddles behind! The
idea had never entered her mind.
"Why, Papa, he would break his heart!" she
exclaimed. "You don't know how he loves me!
It would be too cruel! Papa only laughed.
".I don't believe he will pine very much," he
said. "Turn him loose in the poultry-yard, and
I '11 engage you 'll find him fat enough for the
Thanksgiving dinner."
I suppose Papa did not mean to be cruel, but if
he had suggested eating the baby, it could hardly
have shocked or hurt Nelly more. Eat her


was taking his bath. How he enjoyed those
frolics in the cool water, so dear to a duck's
heart! Nelly loved to watch him as he plunged
his head deep down and left his funny little tail
sticking straight up, or flirted the water over him-
self in 4 glittering shower. He always kept one
eye on Nelly, though, and, as soon as she stood
up and began to gather her things together, he
was on the bank without waiting for her to say,
"Come, Ducky!"
So the summer went by; but, at last, the time

Ducky! her darling Daddies! Nelly burst into
a flood of tears, and rushed out of the room. But
Papa was inexorable, and the next morning Nelly
had to say good-bye to her pet, and then she walked
silently to the depot, and was whirled off in the
train toward home.
Nelly felt sore about Ducky for some time; but
she was going home to see all the dear home faces
and the dear old pets, and, after a while, Ducky
Daddies was almost forgotten.
But poor Ducky had no home faces to console




him. Nelly had filled his whole heart, and, now
that she was gone, the world was a blank to him.
Poor little duck! He wandered about forlornly,
unable to understand the change that had come
over everything,-no little mistress to be found,
with kind hand and tender words to pet and com-
fort him! When he went up to the door-step in
search of her, he was driven away, and ordered to
keep in his own place. In his loneliness and de-
spair, he went back to the poultry-yard, where he
was hatched; but there it was still worse. In his
happy days he had neglected his kindred, and
now, when his heart was sad and sore, they would
have nothing to do with him, but gave him only
unfriendly quacks and sharp nips from their broad
I declare," said Aunt Fanny, as she watched
him waddling about, solitary and dejected, I am
dreadfully sorry for that poor drake. I have a
great mind to send him into town to Nelly. He
will certainly die if he stays here, and he can't do
any worse than die there."
So, one day, Nelly, standing at the window, saw
a man-with a covered -basket in his hard coming
up the steps. She ran out into the hall to see
what it meant, for she recognized him as one of
Grandpapa's farm-hands. Such a queer noise as
there was in that basket, rustling and fluttering,
and-and-surely that was a quack !
"Oh, it's Ducky Daddles! my own dear
Ducky cried Nelly, kneeling down and tearing

at the string with fingers that trembled so that
she scarcely could untie it.
They were a happy pair, that night, Nelly and
her dear old pet. Not so very old, neither, for
Daddies was not yet full grown. When Papa came
home and heard the story, he smiled a little.
Nelly had been trembling, every time she thought
of Papa, since Ducky came, and now she burst
out with what had been troubling her
Oh, Papa you wont eat him, will you? "
Papa laughed loud and long at the question, but
assured Nelly that her pet was safe from him. He
went further, when he saw how Nelly's heart was
set upon keeping -Ducky; for he had the lower
part of the yard fenced off, and a large box sunk
and filled with water, to serve as a bath for Dad-
As we are going into the business, we might
as well do it thoroughly," he said; so he bought
another duck to be a friend and companion for
Ducky had learned one lesson, at least, during
his separation-from Nelly, which was, that it would
be well to make friends with his own kind, in case
he should need them in future. Sohe received the
new duck amiably, and extended to her the hos-
pitalities of the yard.
And there lived Daddles, loving and affection-
ate to the last, but too deeply engrossed in fam-
ily and household cares to continue quite so
exclusively devoted to Nelly as at first.


I TAN'T see what our baby boy is dood for, any- An', 'stead of kyin' dood an' hard, as course he

He don' know how to walk or talk, he don'
know how to play;
He tears up ev'ry single zing he posser-bil-ly tan,
An' even tried to break, one day, my mamma's
bestest fan.
He 's always tumblin' 'boit ze floor, an' gives us
awful scares,
An' when he goes to bed at night, he never says
his prayers.
On Sunday, too, he musses up my go-to-meetin'
An' once I foun' him hard at work a-pinc'in'
Dolly's nose;
An' ze uzzer day zat naughty boy (now what you
s'pose you zink?)
Upset a dreat big bottle of my papa's writing' ink;

ought to done,
He laughed, and kicked his head 'most off, as
zough he zought 't was fun.
He even tries to reach up high, an' pull zings
off ze shelf,
An' he 's always wantin' you, of course, jus' when
you wants yourself.
I rather dess, I really do, from how he pulls my turls,
Zey all was made a-purpose for to 'noy us little dirls;
An' I wish zere was n't no such zing as naughty
baby boys -
Why-why, zat 's him a-kyin' now; he makes a
drefful noise.
I dess I better run and see, for if he has-
Felled down ze stairs and killed his-self, whatever
s-s-s'all I do!





PEGGY and Johnny are not going to cry; they are only taking part in a tableau-vivant, in illustration
of a verse which is being read behind the curtain:
Two merry children we.-Ha ha !
From the happy Fatherland;
Our hearts are light, tra la, tra la,
As blithely here we stand.
For who so gay as we etc., etc.



THE boys at the boarding-school at Riverside
asked Robert Temple, when he first joined them,
whether he had heard of Perpetual-Motion James.
Robert replied that he had not, for he knew no
one yet.
"Never mind," said little Philip Brown; "I will
take you to his room sometime."
In a few days, Robert Temple reminded Philip
Brown of his promise, and they went together to
visit Perpetual-Motion James.
"James is a singular boy," said Philip, as they
mounted the steep stairs of an old barn, which was
in an open lot not far from the boarding-school.
" He has a workshop up here, and he does n't like

to do what the rest of the fellows do. He is
always making something in his little shop. He is
an awfully smart chap,"-Philip Brown's voice
subsided to a whisper,-" he almost made a flying-
machine once; and he says it will go sometime.
He is now at work on a machine that will go
always, like a horse that never tires and never
needs hay. The fellows and the teachers laugh at
him; but I don't like it in them. I don't see why
it is n't possible. James explains it to me clearer
than Mr. Bascom, our mathematical teacher, ex-
plains many things. But, somehow, when I leave
James, I can't tell it to any one else. There, hear
that bell! James knows that we are coming, for



the fellows have plagued him so that he has con-
cealed inventions all around us that give the alarm."
Robert, in the
N/ gloom of the stair-
fz-1 way, heard a distant
bell and the rattling
Sof bolts.
"We must let
him know who we
are," whispered his
companion, or we
shall have some-
DIAGRAM OF THE "MAGNETIC MOTION." thing on our heads.
He fixes a pail of water, which upsets by elec-
tricity when we tread on a certain stair. James,
it is Philip! 'The cat is dead !'-That is our
watchword," whispered Philip to Robert.
In a moment they heard the bolts withdrawn,
and Perpetual-Motion James stood in a door-way,
through which the rays of sunlight illumined the
dark stairs where the young visitors stood.
Robert Temple saw a boy of about seventeen,
very thin and lank, with long arms. He was in
his shirt-sleeves,-his arms bare, and his face and
yellow hair covered with dust and cobwebs. There
was a look of annoyance and impatience on his
face as he peered into the darkness.
"What do you want?" he asked, gruffly.
"This is Robert Temple, the new boy," said
Philip. "He is interested in physics, and I want
to introduce you to him and show him some of
your wonderful inventions."
The manner of Perpetual-Motion James soft-
ened; he even shook hands with Robert, and this
seemed to surprise Philip very much. The work-


shop which they then entered was a low room
under the eaves. It had been fitted up by James

with a work-bench, and supplied with various tools.
Parts of curious machines were lying in every
corner: in one, great wings of whalebone and
steel springs; in another, complicated arrange-
ments of wheels connected together. There was
a clock on the wall, which ran by electricity, and
there were various bells connected with wires and
magnets; indeed, the whole roof was a net-work
of wires. The only other inhabitant of the room,
besides James, was a little Skye terrier, which came
out from under a bench, sleepily stretching him-
self, and dragging a disjointed apparatus that by
some accident had become connected with-his tail.
"Do you believe in perpetual motion?" asked
Robert, after he had been shown several pieces of
apparatus which seemed to him to be intended to


work always. His father had carefully taught him
the principles of physics, and had shown him why
perpetual motion is impossible.
"Why should n't I?" replied James, with an
argumentative look. "I can prove it possible."
Thus saying, he pointed to a little apparatus
on the wall of the shop. This consisted of a large
wheel, delicately poised, and provided with a large
magnet near its edge outside the wheel; and fixed
to the wall was another magnet, near the first. A
little screen was fixed on the wheel, and was inter-
posed between the two magnets.
"Now," said Perpetual-Motion James, "when
the wheel revolves, the two magnets will attract
each other; but, just as they get opposite each
other, the screen will cut off the magnetic effect,
and the weight of the magnet will cause the wheel
to turn until its magnet is again attracted by the out-
side magnet. And so the motion will always go on."
The boys stared in wonder at the machine
"I wonder that such a simple machine was never
thought of before! exclaimed Philip Brown.
Does it really go ?" asked Robert, timidly.
"I have not found the proper screen to cut off





the magnetism," replied James. But I have no
doubt that I shall find one. The teacher of phys-
ics says there is no substance that will cut off mag-
netic attraction; but I think there must be."
James then showed them his new perpetual-
motion velocipede. He had had a little model
made, but it was not quite completed. Robert
wrote this description of it to his father:

"I think he is going to make a machine which will always go on
the roads without horses, or steam-engines, or men's feet. It is
made in this way: There is a long, hollow ignet, with a half-
circle at each end; a large ball of something funny can roll from one
end to the other of the hollow magnet. When the magnet stands
upright, the magnetic pole of the earth pulls down the upper end.
The ball runs quickly to that end, and changes the magnetism of
the magnet, so that what was before a north end now becomes a
south end. Then the magnet stands upright again; and thus it
turns over and over continually. A seat is arranged between two
of these hollow magnets, and is hung just as they hang steam-ship
lights, so that they never overturn, no matter how much the vessel
tosses. Wont it be jolly to ride on such a thing? You see, you
will go up and down, as if you were on a galloping horse-only I
don't see how you are going to stop the thing. That is what
troubles James, and he is now working over how to stop it."

These were the thoughts that ran through Rob-
ert's mind as he heard James explain his perpetual-
motion velocipede. The boys could not see why
the thing would not work.
Perpetual-Motion James made a great impression
upon Robert Temple, who thought that James was
a much-abused fellow, both by the boys and by
the teachers; for the masters smiled at his notions,
and often even punished him for wasting his time.
As they came away, both Robert and Philip voted
that teachers did not know everything, for James
had undoubtedly made a great invention.
In a few days, Robert received a letter from his
father, who was a civil-engineer, and constructed

railroads, and also built manufactories. A part of
the letter was as follows:
"I am surprised that you have so readily forgotten the principles
I taught you. Perpetual motion is not possible in this world. If
we should put a water-wheel under Niagara Falls, it would run
until it would wear out; but it is not perpetual motion to use the
force of water or the winds. We might put a steam-engine in a
deep mine, and use the heat of the earth to run it, and turn some-
thing at the surface of the earth continually; but that is not perpet-
ual motion, for we use the force stored up in the earth. A true
perpetual-motion machine must run itself without the aid of any-
thing but what is contained in itself. Perpetual-Motion James's
first idea with the magnet and the wheel would be perpetual
motion, if it would run; but it will not run, for there is no substance
that will cut off the attraction between magnets. I have written to
Perpetual-Motion James's father, whom I know well, and told him
that his son is wasting his time trying to do impossibilities. He
should be learning the first principles of physics."
There! exclaimed Robert Temple, as he read
his father's letter to Philip. I'm afraid I 've got
Perpetual-Motion James into trouble. He says,
himself, that the world is down on inventors."
Well, if the world really is down on inventors,"
said Philip Brown, the only way is not to invent.
But look at all the useful things that have been
invented, and that the world is glad to get, and pays
well for. I think, though, that on the whole, I
would rather have my lessons, and go on with the
rest of the fellows, instead of cooping myself up in
a barn, and trying to make something that every-
body says wont go, and that never can go "
Perpetual-Motion James is still at school at
Riverside, and Robert Temple and the more intel-
ligent boys have lost faith in his machines; but
Perpetual-Motion James continues to work secretly
over his velocipede. He can see how to make it go,
but how to stop it when it is once in motion still
puzzles him. When it goes and stops at the
rider's will, we will send word to ST. NICHOLAS.





THERE is a stirring poem in every school collection,
called How they brought the good news from Ghent
to Aix "; and not one of you who is fourteen years old
but has read it many times over. For it has the ring
and the fire of the true inspired ballad, and a good
ballad is like martial music to young ears. And many
as are the noted writers of England, no man or woman
of them all is better able to give us poems of this sort
than the strong-hearted poet of "How they brought
the good news from Ghent to Aix." Robert Browning's
soul is quick to recognize the true and the brave in
human action, and whenever he describes them, his
words are seeds of fire. "Herv6 Riel," the poem we
give you this month, shows this quality of its author as
plainly as any of his other ballads, and, in reading it, you
will admire not only the simple Breton sailor who does
his self-imposed duty so manfully, but also the manful

poet who honors the grandeur of the poor sailor's act,
and-that it may not go unrewarded-pays it the trib-
ute of his noble song. Some of you may need to con-
sult your atlases to understand all the allusions-and
so will read the poem twice to enjoy it fully. But the
story and the poet's way of telling it will alike interest
you, we are sure*
Much of Mr. Browning's other poetry, however, has
puzzled older heads than yours to catch its full meaning.
But you hardly will find in all literature a more simple,
rollicking, and entertaining story in verse than his "Pied
Piper of Hamelin," a more touching and tender poem of
young life than Evelyn Hope," or a more ringing and
spirited ballad than Herv6 Riel." So, write as he may of
deep subjects andin unfamiliar styles, he cannot be solely
the poet of grown-up students and thinkers; but-whether
he knows it or not-is often a true poet of boys and girls.


ON the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hun-
dred ninety-two,
Did the English fight the French,-woe to
And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter
through the blue,
Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal
of sharks pursue,
Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on
the Rance,
With the English fleet in view.

'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the
victor in full chase;
First and foremost of the drove, in his great
ship, Damfreville;
Close on him fled, great and small,
Twenty-two good ships in all;
And they signaled to the place:
"Help the winners of a race !
Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us
quick-or, quicker still,
Here's the English can and will !"

Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and
leapt on board;
"Why,,what hope or chance have ships like
these to pass?" laughed they:
"Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the pas-
sage scarred and scored.
Shall the 'Formidable' here, with her twelve
and eighty guns,
Think to make the river-mouth by the single,
narrow way,

Trust to enter where 't is ticklish for a craft
of twenty tons,
And with flow at full, beside?
Now, 't is slackest ebb of tide.
Reach the mooring? Rather say,
While rock stands or water runs,
Not a ship will leave the bay!"

Then was called a council straight.
Brief and bitter the debate:
" Here 's the English at our heels; would you
have them take in tow
All that 's left us of the fleet, linked together
stern and bow,
For a prize to Plymouth Sound?
Better run the ships aground! "
(Ended Damfreville his speech).
" Not a minute more to wait!
Let the captains, all and each,
Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels
on the beach !
France must undergo her fate.

" Give the word But no such word
Was ever spoke or heard;
For up stood, .for out stepped, for in struck
amid all these-
A Captain? A Lieutenant? A Mate,-first,
second, third?
No such man of mark, and meet
With his betters to compete!
But a simple Breton sailor, pressed by Tour-
ville for the fleet,

A poor coasting-pilot he, Herv6 Riel, the

* Born, near London, in 1812.




And "What mockery or malice have we
here? cries Herv6 Riel:
"Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you
cowards, fools, or rogues ?
Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took
the soundings, tell
On my fingers every bank, every shallow,
every swell
'Twixt the offing here and Greve, where the
river disembogues ?
Are you bought by English gold? Is it love
the lying 's for?

" Only let me lead the line,
Have the biggest ship to steer,
Get this 'Formidable' clear.
Make the others follow mine.
And I lead them, most and least, by a pass-
age I know well,
Right to Solidor, past Greve,
And there lay them safe and sound;
Arid if one ship misbehave,-
Keel so much as grate the ground,
Why, I 've nothing but my life,-here's my
head t" cries Herv6 Riel.

-.. I.


Morn and eve, night and day,
Have I piloted your bay, Not a minute more to wait.
Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Steer us in, then, small and great!
Solidor. Take the helm, lead the line, save the squad-
Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were ron I cried its chief.
worse than fifty Hogues Captains, give the sailor place!
Sirs, they know I speak the truth Sirs, believe He is Admiral, in brief.
me there 's a way Still the north-wind, by God's grace! "
VOL. VIII.-55.







See the noble fellow's face,
As the big ship, with a bound,
Clears the entry like a hound,
Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the
wide sea's profound!
See, safe through shoal and rock,
How they follow in a flock;
Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that
grates the ground,
Not a spar that comes to grief!
The peril, see! is past,
All are harbored to the last;
And just as Herv6 Riel hollos "Anchor!"-
sure as fate,
Up the English come, too late!

* S .s S


Out burst all, with one accord:
This is Paradise for hell!
Let France, let France's King
Thank the man that did the thing!"
What a shout, and all one word,
"Herv6 Riel!"
As he stepped in front once more,
Not a symptom of surprise
In the frank blue Breton eyes,
Just the same man as before.

Then said Damfreville: "My friend,
I must speak out at the end,
Though I find the speaking hard.
Praise is deeper than the lips:
You have saved the King his ships,
You must name your own reward.
'Faith, our sun was near eclipse !
Demand whatever you will,
France remains your debtor still.

IT was fitting that a poet of Mr. Browning's manly
fire and vigor should be mated with a wife who, besides
the advantage of a clear, thoroughly trained intellect,
possessed the delicate poetic traits and gifts of song pe-
culiar to womanly genius.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning was, perhaps, the greatest
woman-poet in all English literature. Dainty and
exquisitely wrought as are many of her poems, we
have selected from them all the one which shows how
her strong soul went out to the wretched and oppressed.
In The Cry of the Children," she puts her indignant
eloquence into the mouths of little ones whose suffer-
ings left them too wretched for words, and who yet,
through her, could reach the hearts of those who op-
pressed them. It seems almost too terrible to be true
that men ever could be willing to profit by the labor of

Ask to heart's content and have, or my
name 's not Damfreville !"

Then a beam of fun outbroke
On the bearded mouth that spoke,
As the honest heart laughed through
Those frank eyes of Breton blue:
" Since I needs must say my say,
Since on board the duty 's done,
And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what
is it but a run ?-
Since 't is ask and have, I may-
Since the others go ashore-
Come! a good whole holiday!
Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call
the Belle Aurore !"
That he asked and that he got-nothing more i

Name and deed alike are lost:
Not a pillar nor a post
In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it
Not a head in white and black
On a single fishing-smack,
In memory of the man but for whom had
gone to wrack
All that France saved from the fight whence
England bore the bell.
Go to Paris: rank on rank,
Search the heroes flung pell-mell
On the Louvre, face and flank!
You shall look long enough ere you come
to Herv6 Riel.
So, for better and for worse,
Herv6 Riel, accept my verse!
In my verse, Hervd Riel, do thou once more
Save the squadron, honor France, love thy
wife, the Belle Aurore !

children, forced, for their very bread, to work from dawn
till dark, day after day, in mines and noisy factories.
Yet Mrs. Browning's Cry of the Children is no flight
of fancy, but the simple, cruel truth of not many years
Mrs. Browning's poems and shorter songs treat of
many subjects; and throughout your life you will be able
to find somewhere among them thoughts that will help
you to be stronger and better. But the selections will
be best made by yourselves, according to the need or
fancy of the hour. If you do not care for them to-day,
you may to-morrow. Surely it is a pleasant thing to
know that in the realms of literature good friends
patiently wait our coming-and among them all, none
will give you better greeting than this most true, gentle,
womanly soul.





Do YE hear the children weeping, 0 my
Ere the sorrow comes with years?
They are leaning their young heads against
their mothers,
And that can not stop their tears.
The young lambs are bleating in the meadows,
The young birds are chirping in the nest,
The young fawns are playing with the shadows,
The young flowers are blowing toward the
But the young, young children, 0 my brothers,
They are weeping bitterly !
They are weeping in the play-time of the
In the country of the free.

Do you question the young children in the
Why their tears are falling so?
The old man may weep for his to-morrow,
Which is lost in Long Ago.
The old tree is leafless in the forest,
The old year is ending in the frost,-
The old wound, if stricken, is the sorest,
The old hope is hardest to be lost.,
But the young, young children, O my brothers,
Do you ask them why they stand
Weeping sore before the bosoms of their
In our happy Fatherland?

They look up with their pale and sunken
And their looks are sad to see,
For the man's hoary anguish draws and presses
Down the cheeks of infancy.
"Your old earth," they say, "'is very dreary;
Our young feet," they say, are very weak !
Few paces have we taken, yet are weary-
Our grave-rest is very far to seek.
Ask the aged why they weep, and not the
For the outside earth is cold;
And we young ones stand without, in our
And the graves are for the old.

" True," say the children, "it may happen
That we die before our time.
Little Alice died last year-her grave is shapen
Like a snowball, in the rime.
We looked into the pit prepared to take her.
Was no room for any work in the close clay!

From the sleep wherein she lieth none will
wake her,
Crying, Get up, little Alice it is day.'
If you listen by that grave, in sun and shower,
With your ear down, little Alice never cries.
Could we see her face, be sure we would not
know her,
For the smile has time for growing in her eyes.
And merry go her moments, lulled and stilled in
The shroud by the kirk-chime!
It is good when it happens," say the children,
"That we die before our time."

Alas, alas, the children! they are seeking
Death in life, as best to have.
They are binding up their hearts away from
With a cerement from the grave.
Go out, children, from the mine and from
the city;
Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do.
Pluck your handfuls of the meadow-cowslips
Laugh aloud, to feel your fingers let them
through !
But they answer, Are your cowslips of the
Like our weeds anear the mine?
Leave us quiet in the dark of the coal-shadows,
From your pleasures fair and fine!

"For oh," say the children, "we are weary
And we can not run or leap.
If we cared for any meadows, it were merely
To drop down in them and sleep.
Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping,
We fall upon our faces, trying to go;
And, underneath our heavy eyelids drooping,
The reddest flower would look as pale as
For, all day, we drag our burden tiring
Through the coal-dark, under-ground-
Or, all day, we drive the wheels of iron
In the factories, round and round.

" For, all day, the wheels are droning, turning,-
Their wind comes in our faces,-
Till our hearts turn,-our heads, with pulses
And the walls turn in their places.
Turns the sky in the high window blank and
Turns the long light that drops down the

* Born, in London, 1809; died, in Florence, July 29, x86z.



Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling,
All are turning, all the day, and we with all.
And all day, the iron wheels are droning,
And sometimes we could pray,
'0, ye wheels' (breaking out in a mad moan-
'Stop be silent for to-day!'"

Ay! be silent! Let them hear each other
For a moment, mouth to mouth!
Let them touch each other's hands in a fresh
Of their tender human youth !
Let them feel that this cold, metallic motion
Is not all the life God fashions or reveals.
Let them prove their living souls against the
That they live in you, or under you, O
Still, all day, the irofi wheels go onward,
Grinding life down from its mark;
And the children's souls, which God is call-
ing sun-ward,
Spin on blindly in the dark.

Now tell the poor young children, O my
To look up to Him and pray;
So the blessed One who blesseth all the others,
Will bless them another day.
They answer: "Who is God that He should
hear us,
While the rushing of the iron wheel is stirred ?
When we sob aloud, the human creatures near
Pass by, hearing not, or answer not a word.
And we hear not (for the wheels in their
Strangers speaking at the door.
Is it likely God, with angels singing round
Hears our weeping any more?

"Two words, indeed, of praying we remember,
And at midnight's hour of harm,
'Our Father,' looking upward in the chamber,
We say softly for a charm.
We know no other words, except 'Our
And we think that, in some pause of angels'
God may pluck them with the silence sweet
to gather,
And hold both within His right hand which
is strong.
'Our Father! If He heard us He would surely

(For they call Him good and mild)
Answer, smiling down the steep world very
'Come and rest with me, my child.'

" But no !" say the children, weeping faster,
"He is speechless as a stone;
And they tell us of His image is the master
Who commands us to work on.
Go to!" say the children,-" up in Heaven,
Dark, wheel-like, turning clouds are all we
Do not mock us; grief has made us unbe-
We look up for God, but tears have made
us blind."
Do you hear the children weeping, and dis-
0 my brothers, what ye preach ?
For God's possible is taught by his world's
And the children doubt of each.

And well may the children weep before you!
They are weary ere they run;
They have never seen the sunshine, nor the
Which is brighter than the sun.
They know the grief of man, without his
They sink in man's despair, without its
Are slaves without the liberty in Christdom,
Are martyrs by the pang without the palm;
Are worn, as if with age, yet unretrievingly
The harvest of its memories cannot reap;
Are orphans of the earthly love and heavenly.
Let them weep! let them weep!

They look up with their pale and sunken
And their look is dread to see,
For they mind you of their angels in high
With eyes turned on Deity!
"How long," they say, "how long, O cruel
,Will you stand, to move the world, on a
child's heart?
Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation,
And tread onward to your throne amid the
Our blood splashes upward, O gold-heaper,
And your purple shows your path!
But the child's sob in the silence curses
Than the strong man in his wrath."






ALL that sunny afternoon, little Tessa sat on the
steps of the great church in the beautiful city of
Naples, selling oranges. Her sweet Italian words
of entreaty dropped like a little song from her lips,
which sometimes trembled with tearful earnestness,


You poor little thing! said the lady, in Italian,
which she spoke perfectly; "here is money for
your oranges-give them all to me. And now
tell me, why are you in such haste to go home?
See, the sun is still shining on the great dome of

'] '

--- -~ ~ ~ ~


for her mother was very ill at home, and the money
received from the sale of the fruit, perhaps, would
be enough to bring the doctor and help.
Only a few oranges were left in Tessa's basket,
when a lovely looking American lady came out of
the church. In her hand was a great bunch of
the violets of Parma. Their delicious odor filled
the atmosphere around her; but not sweeter were
they than the lady's beautiful face, and violet eyes,
which rested, full of compassion, upon the child,
the moment her ear caught the pleading Italian
words, which, in English, would be: Sweet lady !
dear lady buy my oranges of Sicily! and let me
go home to my mother, and the good God will
bless you forever! "

the church. It is yet early. But, come; I will go
with you."
The child's large eyes were lifted up in astonish-
ment to the lady's face. A smile of gratitude,
that seemed almost breaking into a sob, parted her
lips. The joy of thus suddenly finding a friend,
and the grief for her mother, struggled for mastery
in her little bosom. She started up, crying, Gra-
cias signora carissima / and quickly followed the
lady down the steps of the church, her little, bare
feet making a soft pit-a-pat, like far-away echoes to
the other's steps, as they soon turned into a very
narrow and silent street. Then Tessa told her pitiful
story; how her father was lost in the cruel sea, when
out in his fishing-boat, during a wild storm; how


j i


her mother made and mended nets for their sup-
port, and the little girl never wanted bread-and
sometimes, on festa days, had a bunch of grapes-
until a week ago, when her mother was stricken
down by a cruel fever, and could work no more.
Then her Uncle Cola, who himself was very poor,
had bought some oranges, and given them to her
to sell. With the money they brought, Tessa got
more oranges; "and sometimes, Signora mia,"
she said, pitifully, I sell enough to give us bread.
But yesterday I was hungry oh, so hungry and
my poor mother grew so white,-so white -- "
Great tears started to Tessa's eyes. With tender
compassion the lady stooped down, and kissed her,
saying, Don't cry, little one; you shall never be
hungry again, if I can help it."
It was now sunset-the glorious Italian sunset.
Tessa and her new friend hurried on, and were
soon in a very narrow, mean street, which ran down
to the Bay of Naples. One of the miserable homes
stood a little back, and into this one Tessa and her
new friend entered. The next moment they stood
at the bed-side of the dying mother.
Yes, dying! Her fading eyes, which were fixed
with pathetic yearning upon the door, brightened
for a moment as Tessa flew into the feeble arms
stretched out to her. A prayer of thanksgiving
fell from the mother's lips, as the child, in a few

rapid words, explained why the Signora was there.
Then some tearful, broken sentences passed be-
tween the mother and Tessa's friend,-piteous
words of farewell on one side, earnest, loving prom-
ises on the other. But what peace and comfort
those earnest, loving assurances brought to the
mother's heart! for her little one was to be taken
by the Signora to that far-off, glorious, free Amer-
ica, where plenty ever reigned! She was to be
loved and cared for as if she were the Signora's
own child. In the mother's dying moments was
this promise given and received. And not a moment
too soon, for a little while after, with a grateful
look, and a feeble pressure of the lady's hand, the
Italian mother went into everlasting rest.
Little broken-hearted Tessa! She had to be
taken by force from her dead mother's side; and
for many days she refused to be comforted. Oh!
madre mia! madre mia / was her incessant wail.
But God is very merciful. He softens grief as time
goes on; and by and by little Tessa began to smile,
and put her soft arms around the neck of her new
mamma,-and soon she could say mother," and
" I love you," and many other English words.
And this is the story, so far, of little Tessa, whose
picture you have here. Who knows but some day
you may meet the pretty little Italian girl with her
adopted American mother?





S V/WHEN morns are freshest with early dew,
And birds pipe -gayly from bush and tree,
When the crocus smiles neathh skies of blue,
-And the violet lists for the hum of the bee;
When thaw-winds blow from the sunny south,
And streams swell higher from day to day,
When maple and elm and birch are budded,
And the butterfly hangs o'er the fragrant
SOh, then is the time when we plant the corn,
And the golden kernels are hidden from sight,-
Hidden within the cool, damp earth,
SHidden away from the searching light.

When the Spring has gone, and the buttercups
And daisies are dotting the meadows green,
When the blue-bells are fringing the mountain-
And the red rose blossoms, a royal queen;
When fields are greenest and skies are bluest,
And frolicsome breezes come and go,
.' -7 - When Berenice shines in the southern heav'n
And.Spica kisses the hill-top low,-
S Then is the time when the corn springs up,
S^ And stands with its tassels waving high,-
A splendid army in green and gold,
'Midst the bearded barley and emerald rye.

When the mountains are crowned with purple
S'". And the apples glow 'mid the orchard's green,
; When the grapes droop low on the clambering
S And the morning air is frosty and keen;
.,j jWhen the maples are blazing with scarlet flame,
C',.'y The gorgeous flame of the quivering leaves,
.. iOh, then do we gather the golden corn
And bind it close in its ample sheaves.
We gather it in, our priceless hoard,
Ripened and crisped by the Summer's glow,
And up to heaven we lift our thanks
For this gift of grain ere the Winter snow.

%c "







_-. .- :; : *, ,_ *, .;. ,,,. .

$ -' : .. .. i-

NOW---- ,
. -

-1'.' -, -i *L~ '
~jlK :-

and the two owners
made the park-policeman judge. Quite a number
of young people had met to see the race. There
was also a crowd of little fellows out with their
sloops and schooners.
The start was magnificent. Both yachts got
away under full sail, with every man on board
holding on hard, and the water pouring into the
lee scuppers.
Hello There 's quite a fleet of boats coming
down before the wind, right across the course!
And here comes a squall! The owner of the
"Sadie wished he had not set his flying-jib.
Ah! ah oh! The squall has struck a fore-and-
aft schooner, and over she goes on her beam-ends!

F[ il .,. -ihT tc ll< i_ [! ,-! rt rl, J,. 1. i-[ .: c 'In,lit
!'d .lI r.:, [1..: r ,*i l L,, d.,n'.,.,.,rid> l:, .: t'> : ,:,-
P I |r .:.u. t i ,,,u l-.u il: .: r, [I ,,: 1:,.,,' 5.
"* i-m-., ..-,.-h ,;i th'.:- ,. i :. i i' ,- ili. ,..,-t i,, i _p '--

-t I -, r I! i i -1 I .
.A- T I-- -.:d .. [, :, .:h." .-. 1.-,I l-,,:! ,-, ,u> ,,:,

it was the smartest nautical feat ever seen m Clen-
tral Park. The Sadie had a low bowsprit, and
she rushed at the schooner and actually put her
bowsprit under the back-stay, and lifted the masts
out of water. The schooner righted at once, amid
the cheers of all the crews, while the "Sadie fell
off before the wind and started once more. The
" Flirt meantime dashed ahead and won the race.
Here you see her coming in, all hands cheering.
But the judge looked very sober.
When the Sadie" came in, he gave her the
prize for the noble manner in which she had
gone to the rescue of the ship-wrecked schooner.
"Humanity," said he, with a wise nod'of the
head, "is better than winning a boat-race."





UNCLE JOE was taking a nap in the big easy-
chair. Of course, he was taking a nap; for, first,
he had shut his eyes, and then he had put a news-
paper before his face, and then he had begun to
snore. He had stopped snoring now, but the
newspaper was there still, and he did not stir.
Harold and Violet were playing in the corner.
What were they playing? What do children play?
It is so long since-I was a child that I am quite
puzzled.. All I know is that Violet had her doll, a
fine French lady, dressed in her best walking suit,
with gloves, and hat, and parasol, and veil all com-
plete, and a tiny basket on her arm, besides.
Violet had a basket on her arm, too; and Harold
-- Ah, yes, I see now. That must have been it.
Harold had laid a board across two chairs, and on
it he was arranging all kinds of things-a doll's
shoe, a heap of little pebbles, another of grains of
corn, a few shells, a ball. Now you know, don't
you? They were playing store, and very nice it is.
Presently, Harold had an idea.
"Violet," he said, "we have n't got half
enough money here. People in business need lots
of money, you know. Just you go upstairs and
bring down the box of make-believe money, that's
a good girl. And, while you are about it, just run
into the kitchen and bring in some coffee, and some
currants, and some rice, and a few tin boxes that
spices come in. Then you might bring a ball of
string, and a lot of paper-oh! and Mamma's
letter-scales, and a few books, and-and- Well,
that 's all I think of, just now."
Violet was a good little sister, and she went off
obediently. The newspaper rustled a little, and,
if Harold had looked, he might have seen an eye
peeping from over the edge of it; but he did n't
look, not he. He was much too busy arranging
his store to the best advantage.
Just then, the door-bell rang, and Harold jumped
It 's Mamma," he said, as he peeped out of
the window. I wonder-Mamma," as the parlor
door opened, "did you bring the book I wanted to
borrow from Cousin Clara? "
"Oh, Harold! I forgot all about it," said
Mamma. "I 'm sorry, but I had so many errands
to do that I could not remember it."
"Oh, dear! and I wanted it so much," grumbled
Harold, dolefully. "Everybody always forgets
what I ask them."
Here are your things, Harold-all I could

bring, at least," said Violet, coming back with her
arms full, just as Mamma went out. There 's the
coffee in one paper, and the rice in another, and-
oh dear! I must have dropped the currants.
And there 's your string, and your box of money,
and a roll of paper, and three tin boxes, but I
could n't bring the books, nor the letter-scales.
Indeed, I could n't carry any more, Harold."
"Just the way," grumbled Harold again. "I
never saw anything like it. Nobody ever can do
what I want. They 'forget,' or 'can't bring 'em,'
or something. Just you trot upstairs again, now,
and bring down those books. Any old ones will
do. I want them for shelves. And, while you 're
about it, bring my little express wagon, and "
It was Uncle Joe who spoke. The newspaper
was off .his head, now, and he was sitting up and
looking at the children. "Harold, do you know
why the hyrax is without a tail? "
Harold thought it was a very queer question, but
he did n't say so. Uncle Joe usually meant some-
thing by his questions, and probably this one had
a meaning.
"What 's a hyrax? asked Violet.
A little animal something like a rabbit," said
Uncle Joe. "Come here, and I '11 tell you
about it."
"But Harold wants his things," said Violet,
Never mind about Harold's things, just yet,"
said Uncle Joe. "They can wait; but I 'm in a
story-telling humor, and that can't wait. Jump
up on my knee. So! Harold, too. Now, then!
"Once upon a time, there was a commotion in
the Animal Kingdom. The world was not very
old then, not even old enough to be quite finished
off. Nobody knew that, though, until, on a certain
day, the King of the Beasts issued a proclamation.
What 's a proclamation? Well, a notice, then.
He sent word to all his faithful subjects that if,
upon a certain day, they would repair to his court,
they would be handsomely finished off.
'Finished off'? said the beasts. 'Why, we
are finished off. What more do we want? We
have teeth and eyes and ears and paws. A tail?
What do we want with a tail? You can't eat with
a tail, nor see, nor hear, with a tail, can you?
Then, what 's the good of a tail ?'
Just then a fly stung Goodman Ox on the side.
He leaped about a foot into the air, but the fly still



stuck and stung. He tried to brush it off with his
foot, but his leg was too stiff.
"'Oho!' said Goodman Ox. 'Now I see the
good of a tail-a nice, long, slender tail, with a
brush at the end. Ah, yes! The king may make
his mind easy. I shall be sure to be there.'
"And so said all the beasts; but nobody was as
anxious as Master Hyrax. Day and night he
thought about this wonderful tail. What kind
would it be ? Would it be fitted to him without a
question, or would he be allowed to choose? And,
if so, what should he choose? Should it be long
or short, stumpy or tapering, straight or curly,
feathery or compact? At last he made up his
mind. He would have a long, feathery tail, with
a graceful curve in it. Yes, that would suit him

"' Well, I don't mind,' said Lord Lion; 'your
tail wont be much of a load.'
So Master Hyrax gnawed a bit of fur from his
breast, and Lord Lion took it and went his way.
"Just as he was out of sight, Squire Wolf came
"' It 's as well to be on the safe side,' thought
Master Hyrax; 'perhaps Lord Lion may forget.'
"So he asked Squire Wolf, and Squire Wolf
promised, and took a bit of fur to match, and
went off. Then came Mistress Cat and Sir Fox,
and Mr. Rat and Sir Dog, and Gaffer Bear and
Gammer Beaver, and ever so many others. Every
one of them Master Hyrax stopped, and to each
he gave a bit of his fur, and each promised to
bring back a tail to match it.



best, he was sure. Then, having made up his
mind, he was quite contented.
"Now, if there was one thing Master Hyrax
hated more than another, it was bad weather. He
never went out in the cold, nor in the rain, but
behold! when the great day came, it was cold and
rainy both. What was Master Hyrax to do? He
thought and thought, and at last he had a bright
idea. He lay down at the door of his house, and
waited for the animals to pass by on their way to
court. First came Lord Lion.
"'Oh, Lord Lion! good Lord Lion!' cried
Master Hyrax; 'when you go to get your tail,
will you ask for mine, too ?-a fine, feathery one,
not too curly, but just with a graceful curve in it,
if you please. I will give you a bit of my fur to
match, and it wont be much trouble for you.'

"'I only hope I shall not have so many tails
that I shall not know what to do with them all,'
said Master Hyrax.
"On the whole, he felt quite comfortable, al-
though he had given away so many bits of fur that
his breast was bare.
"'But that does n't matter,' he thought; 'it
will grow again; and what a fine, useful thing a
tail will be. Better have six than none.'
So, then, Master Hyrax went into his house,
and curled himself up to sleep until his messengers
should come back.
"Lord Lion was the first to come, as he had
been the first to go; and Master Hyrax crawled
out to meet him.
"'Dear Lord Lion,' said Master Hyrax, 'did
you bring my tail?'




----;---i~- --I. I--



"Lord Lion stopped, and looked down at him.
'Your tail?' he said; 'how could I remember
anything about your miserable little tail?' And he
sauntered off, lashing his own fine, new tail.
"Then came Mistress Cat.
"' Good Mistress Cat, did you bring my tail?'
'No, indeed,' said Mistress Cat. It is all I
,can do to carry back the tails for my six kittens,
who were not big enough to go for their own.'
"Hyrax sighed, but he was not discouraged.
'Did you bring my tail, Sir Fox?' he asked of
the next, but Sir Fox sniffed and said:
I had work enough to get my own, without
thinking of yours. They wanted to palm off a
miserable, skinny thing on me, instead of the fine
brush that I had set my heart upon. I got it at
last, though, in spite of them; and Mr. Rat has
the one they meant for me.'
Mr. Rat, who came next, was in such a bad
humor that he would not even answer Master
Hyrax's question; but it was evident that he had
no tail about him, excepting his own. Master Hyrax
:staid at his post until midnight, but not an animal

had remembered him. Sir Dog had lost the bit of
fur and had felt afraid that if he should bring a
tail it would not match. Gammer Beaver had had
all she could do to carry the broad article which
had fallen to her share, and Gaffer Bear was so
indignant when he found that Master Hyrax had
asked all the rest of the animals, instead of trusting
to him alone, that he would not even look at him.
"'Selfish, lazy creatures !' said Master Hyrax,
as he crept to his bed. 'That is the way they always
serve me. I shall have to go myself, after all.'
"But, the next day, the court was closed. The
tails had all been given out. And that is why the
hyrax has no tail to this very day."
Violet laughed at the story, and pitied the woes
of the poor hyrax, but Harold sat still for a while.
Then he slipped down from Uncle Joe's lap.
"Come upstairs, Violet," he said, and I '11
help you bring down the rest of the things. Or,
if you don't want to go, I '11 bring them myself.
When we 're through playing, I '11 go over to
Cousin Clara's and get the book I want. I 'm not
going to be Master Hyrax any longer."


-.- NT- M. ? T). D-a

SWEET Alice, while'in Wonderland,
Found a fine baby-brother;
She took him by his little hand,
And said: "We 'll look for Mother."

And soon they met a dolphinet,
Twice in a single day;
Said she: "How queer! 'you're waiting
Why don't you go away?"
SBecause," said he, "my ways are set,
And who are you, I pray? "

"I think I'm Alice, sir," said she,
But Alice had no brother;
I can't quite make it out, you see
Until I find my mother."

Then, low, the dolphinet replied,
'T is passing strange," said he,-
" That mother, on my cousin's side,
Is next of kin to me! "

And so they journeyed far and wide,
A family of three;-
And never on a single point
Did one of them agree!



f P Ii ."






THE second week in May, as to wind and sun,
seemed especially prepared with reference to the
"kite fever." Andy Wright was the only member
of Mr. Hayne's school who, before the end of the
fever, had not been seen with a string in his hand,
looking up at something in the air, or running like
mad to give her a good start."
On Friday afternoon, however, Charley Ferris
remarked to Will Torrance: "What do you say,
now, about to-morrow ?-kites, or the Ramblers?
I shall ramble, anyhow! "
Well," said Charley, "I 've left my kite half-
way up the Presbyterian church steeple, so I '11 go
with you."
Joe Martin had not yet caught the kite fever, and
Otis Burr had been reading an article on geology,
so they two agreed to join, but Jeff Carroll refused,"
point blank.
I don't mind a gun," he said, "if I can have
another fellow along to carry it and do the loading,
but I 've a prejudice against breaking stone. It's
State-prison work."
All others were equally beyond persuading, and
within an hour after their Saturday breakfast, the
self-selected four stone-breakers were pushing along
the old South road, up the beautiful valley at the
foot of which lay Saltillo.
There were four hammers among them, of
course, but no two were alike, and Charley Ferris
was especially proud of his own. It was a regular
long-handled "stone-hammer," just the thing for
breaking curious rocks, but it could not be carried
in his pocket.
Will Torrance had intended to take a bag, to
hold his prizes, but Otis Burr had persuaded him
to leave it at home.
If you want to know how it will be," said Otis,
"tumble a few hatfuls of gravel into it, now; and
carry it around the square. That 'll teach you.
Stones weigh something, nowadays."
Joe Martin was the first man to win a prize, right
in the middle of the road.
Rock! said Qtis; that is n't a rock-that 's
an oyster-shell."
"I can't help that," said Joe; "we must take
Mr. Hayne a specimen of everything we find."
"Look here, then," retorted Otis, "there's a

big stone house, over yonder. We must all go and
take a clip at it."
How do you know it 's a stone house ? "
"Can't I see?"
"No, you can't tell at this distance. Besides, it
is n't in our way -"
"Here's another, then," shouted Charley. If
a brick is n't as good as an oyster-shell, I 'd like to
know why."
"Every one of us must have a piece. If Mr.
Hayne can tell us what kind of rock it is, let him
doit. That'sall."
There were no rocks to speak of until, about
three miles south of the city, Will Torrance said
to his companions:
"Now, boys, for the hills! Over there 's the
Glen !"
"What 's that? asked Otis.
"A big crack in the hill. I 've been there.
There is no end of rocks, and it is a great place
for a picnic."
Over the fence they went; but Joe Martin
stopped them, saying: "It 's a stone-fence, boys;
we must hammer into it."
And, according to the rule, the stone-fence had
to suffer a little.
Otis Burr was the only one to secure any sort of
a prize from it; but he actually knocked out a
beautiful little "fossil" from a piece of gray lime-
"Hayne will call that by some big name or
other. I believe it's a trilobite."
"Bite what?" asked Charley.
At that moment something like an answer came
from the field behind them,-a deep, low-pitched
voice, with a little something in it to remind a man
of very distant thunder.
Hello !" said Otis, what 's that?"
"Nothing but a bull," replied Joe Martin. "I
don't care to try for a specimen of him."
They had walked on across the field while they
were examining that fossil, and were at quite a
distance from the fence they had pounded when
the bull undertook to speak to them.
"Boys," said Charley, turning about, "he 's
shaking his head."
It sounds as if he were trying to scold us, too,"
said Otis. That next fence is our best chance
for rocks just now."
"Had n't we better go back?"
"No, Charley," said Will; but we 'd better do




the fastest kind of rambling. Run!--before he
comes for us i "
It was time to start, if they meant to do that,
for the bull was beginning to trot, and the Club
unanimously declared that he was growing larger.
Angrier he certainly was, for Otis Burr had, un-
thinkingly, taken a red silk handkerchief from his
pocket to wipe the perspiration from his face, and
any bull alive would have taken offense at that.
On he came, and on ahead of him went the
Ramblers' Club !
At first they stuck together pretty well, but the
taller boys were the better runners, and poor
Charley Ferris shortly began to fall behind.
Bellow after bellow, deep and thunderous,
reached his ears from the throat of his offended
pursuer, and the situation looked more than a
little serious. What could a boy of thirteen, with
nothing but a long-handled stone-hammer, do
against a bull like that? Not a great deal, cer-
tainly, and the other three would need all the legs
they had, with none to spare for him. They were
good fellows, however, and the thought seemed to
come to all of them at once that they must not
abandon Charley.
Come on," shouted Will. It 's only a little
way, now."
I say, boys," suddenly exclaimed Otis Burr.
"We're done for."
What's the matter? "
"Look! We can't jump that. It's deep, too,
and there 's no end of mud."
Between them and the friendly fence ahead,
there stretched the shining water of a deep brook,
which had been dug out for draining purposes and
was at least twelve feet wide. Charley saw it as
plainly as the rest did, but the bull seemed to have
centered his wrath on the nearest invader, so the
other three turned and ran for a point farther
along the bank of the brook.
All at once, Will Torrance shouted, "Bridge!
There's a bridge "
But it was impossible for Charley to reach it.
Dodge him, Charley !-Boys, hold up. We
must fight that bull."
"I'm in, Will," said Otis Burr, promptly, and
Joe Martin turned in his tracks at the word, and
the three faced the enemy.
But it would have gone badly with Charley if it
had not been for his short legs and the hurry the
bull was in. Right on the bank of the brook, with
the bellowing brute hardly ten feet behind him,
and galloping hard, Charley suddenly stopped. He
was not a good swimmer, the brook was deep, the
water was cold, he could not jump it, but he knew
he was a good dodger."
So he stood still, faced right about, and

"dodged." That was one thing the bull could
not do; at least, not just then. He was too heavy,
too clumsy, and he was going too fast. He could
neither halt nor turn, and on he went into the
water, horns, anger, body and all.
Quick, Charley, give me your stone-hammer! "
shouted Otis Burr. I understand cattle. The
rest of you make for the bridge."
But they refused to leave Otis until they should
have seen the result of his daring experiment.
The bull was cooled off by his sudden bath, and
when he turned around and tried to get out again,
he found himself sinking and floundering in a way
which could hardly have been comfortable. And
that was not the worst of it, for his head no sooner
came within reach than a sharp rap with a hammer
came down upon his nose, a tender place with ani-
mals of his kind. It was of no use to bellow now.
He was in the mud, and the red-haired boy on the
bank had the long-handled hammer. Another
rap, and another, in quick, severe succession, and
then Otis watched him for a moment.
Boys," he said, "don't you hear? There was
sorrow and repentance in that last bellow. He
wont chase any more Ramblers' Clubs to-day.
He 's had all he wants. We need n't run an inch.
Walk right along toward the bridge."
Even abull can understand some things. If there
had been any fun for him in chasing a parcel of
frightened Park boys, there was none at all in
standing there in cold mud and water to have his
nose pounded. Otis was right. There was no
more "follow" in that bull. Still, it had taken
some pluck to use the hammer, and the Club was
very proud of itself.
The little bridge was reached without delay,
although the boys did not run, and the next fence
was not worked for "specimens."
"It will be time enough when we get to the
Glen," remarked Otis. "I stuck to my fossil. If
we 'd had many more rocks in our pockets, the
bull would have caught us."
"You ran splendidly, Charley," said Joe; "but
it was nothing to the way you dodged."
I had to be quick; but it was the best kind of
a trap, and I 'm glad I brought that stone-ham-
A good share of the victory over the bull did,
indeed, belong to Charley, and nobody cared to
dispute his title to it.
A careful look was given to the contents of that
next field, and it was not unpleasant to discover
that the only dangerous wild beasts in sight were a
flock of sheep, who were turning what tails they
had, with one accord, and running their best away
from the Ramblers' Club.
SIt was uphill then, and into a patch of dense




woods; and Will proved a good guide, for he
shortly exclaimed, Here we are, boys!"
"I know that," replied Otis. "We 're here,
but where 's your wonderful glen ?"
I don't see it," added Joe.
"That 's the beauty of it. Nobody would be-
lieve it could be here. Come right along. Slow,
now; just beyond those trees. Look over."
Can't see much."
"Hold on by the bushes, and slip along down
with me. There 's an easier place farther up, but
this will do,"
They followed him, clambering, and clinging,
and picking their way, nearly forty feet down an
almost perpendicular, or, as Otis Burr said,
"awfully slantindicular," side of a chasm, the
nearness of which nobody would have suspected.
It was just the place for a man to tumble into, if
he tried to cross those woods in the dark; but not
a great many people were likely to do that..
The boys were at the bottom now.
This is the Glen," said Will. "It makes a
bend yonder, and it gets deeper and deeper."
Where does it lead to ?"
"Out into the valley below; but it's rougher
than this down there."
And so they found it. Here and there it
widened, as well as deepened, and its rocky sides
were shelving, or, "more than perpendicular,"
while great masses of rock arose in the center of
it, to be climbed over and wondered at by the
members of the Ramblers' Club. Not one of
them could think of any other possible use for all
those ragged piles of pudding-stone, or the out-
cropping ledges of limestone below. Now was
the time for hammers and specimens, and every
pocket in the Club was filled.



THE other boys were mistaken about Andy
Wright and his lack of interest in the kite busi-
ness. He had caught the fever more severely
than any of them, but he had said nothing about
it. He had owned a good many kites in his time,
of the sizes and patterns the rest of the boys were
flying, and he had determined on something
"The Chinese do wonderful things with kites,"
he said to himself. "I 'm as good as a Chinese, I
think; let's see what I can do."
He was hardly likely to rival the best kite-
makers in the world, but it was worth while to try.
His Greek and his other work could not be

allowed to suffer; but Andy was an industrious
fellow, and he was wise enough to employ a little
professional help; that is, he hired a carpenter to
plane out some of his sticks for him, so that they
would be exactly even.
By the middle of the following week, he was
ready to say to Otis Burr :
"I am going to have Jack Roberts and Will
Torrance, and some of our boys, come and help
me send up a new kite, this evening. Will you
come? There 's likely to be a good wind."
Of course he would come, but it seemed a queer
idea to be sending up a kite after dark, when
nobody could see it.
It was riot quite dark when they all assembled,
and Andy seemed in a little of a hurry. "I must
get it up now, boys," said he. "I 'm afraid the
wind will go down.' Help me into the Park with
." Into the Park? thought the boys. There's
no chance there for a run with a kite." They
hardly guessed what he could mean to do.
Jack went into the back yard with him, and in a
minute more they came back with Andy's kite.
"Is n't that a whopper!"
"Why, it 's six feet high "
Six feet and six inches," said Andy. "It will
take more than one of us to hold it."
You '11 have to put on half a mile of tail."
"No; I 've calculated the balance. It will stand
straight. All that a kite-tail does is to balance."
Andy's kite was a big one, and every corner of
it spoke of the care and patience with which he
had put it together.
"It 's worth a pile of kites like mine," said
Charley Ferris.
"But, Charley," said Otis Burr, "wont it take
your pet bull to hold it?"
"It will take strong twine, anyhow."
Andy had several balls of that ready, and Jack
Roberts brought along a big covered basket, the
contents of which were not mentioned to anybody.
The park was free ground to those who lived in
the neighborhood, only that it was generally for-
bidden to the boys for play purposes. They would
soon have done away with its grass and shrubbery
if they had had the free range of it.
The wind was from the south, so the kite was
carried to the southern end of the open space.
They had not long to wait, for Andy had
planned every part of his experiment. There
was no "running" to be done; only Jack Roberts
had to keep hold of the somewhat heavy tail, and
steady the kite as it rose from the ground.
Just before it started, Andy fastened something
at the head of it, and another something at the
middle, right on the cross-pieces, telling the rest.




of the boys to stand back. Then he scratched a
lucifer match, as if he were lighting something;
and then he did some more hitching on at "the
corners of the kite. Up it went now, slowly at
first, and then faster and faster; and the whole
crowd broke into a round of cheers. The big kite
had one paper lantern at its head, another at the
end of each arm, and another in the middle, each
with a lighted half-candle in it. That was some-
thing to cheer for, and other boys, and men, too,
came springing over the fence to see; and the
people came to the doors and windows of the
neighboring houses, and the big kite went up
higher and higher, as steadily as if it had been a
ship at sea. But it could not help rocking a little.
It began to pull hard, and Will Torrance and
Otis Burr both kept hold of the strong hempen
twine as they let it out hand over hand.
"Not so fast, boys!" said Andy. "Does n't
she sail? We shall be able to see her, no matter
how high she goes "
Andy had a right to be proud of his success;
but he was not at the end of it yet. When the
first ball of twine was nearly out, he spliced on the
end of the second, very carefully.
"What 's that for ? Wont it hold if you just tie
it?" asked Charley.
"There must be no knots to stop my travelers."
"Travelers! You could n't see them twenty
feet off! "
You wait."
The basket lay near to Andy, and he now took
out several large, round pieces of stiff pasteboard,
with round, inch-wide holes in their centers. There
were slits cut in them, so that they could be slipped
over the twine, and the slits were tied up again
after that was done.
Those are your travelers? "
"Don't be in a hurry. I'll send up one at a
"Stand back, boys," said Jack. "Something
more 's coming."
When that "traveler" went off, along the string
of the kite, it carried a brilliant paper "Chinese
lantern" dangling below it. There was another
cheer then, for not one of the boys had ever seen
that thing done before.
Will and Otis were quite willing, now, to twist
that twine around the nearest post of the fence,
and rest their fingers.
"Does n't it tug, though ?"
It can't break that twine."
"It would carry another ball of it."
"That's high enough for to-night," said Andy,
as he put on a second traveler. "This is only an
experiment. We '11 do something better with it,
next time."

"If we ever get it down again," quietly remarked
Otis Burr.
The kite was at a great height, now, and the
wind was getting pretty fresh.
It 's about time to pull in," Andy said, at last,
but Jack almost instantly exclaimed: "I say,
Andy, what has happened ?"
The kite lanterns had been giving only a feeble
and star-like glimmer, up to that moment, but now
there suddenly flashed out a great flare of light,
all over it.
"She's afire shouted Charley.
The middle lantern candle had flared against its
wall of oiled paper, and the whole concern was in
a blaze.
"Pull in, boys, pull in! We shall be setting
somebody's house on fire. Pull as fast as you can! "
It was no time for careful winding up of twine,
and the "pulling in" grew only too easy as the
boys hauled on, arm over arm. Down she came,
fast and faster, and the traveler lanterns danced
about wildly in all directions.
The cord's afire cried Jack.
That was the end of it! The frame of the big
kite fell, nobody knew where, and in a minute or
so more, the burned and blackened end of its use-
less string was pulled in among the disappointed
Park boys.
"I '11 build a bigger one," said Andy. I shall
know better how to rig my lanterns next time."
That was the biggest kite ever sent up in Sal-
tillo," said Charley. "And we've saved nearly
all the twine." That was something, as the twine
was the most expensive part of the experiment.
There was little fear now that the kite fever"
would not last out the season, but the day of small
kites had gone by.
For some reason or other, the Ramblers' Club
had postponed making their intended report" to
Mr. Hayne, and it was not until the day after the
burning of the great kite that he even knew they
had been on an expedition. It came out acci-
dentally, while he was telling them something of
the wonderful kites of the Chinese. It was just
after school, and there was enough excitement in
the occasion to stir up the boys to make remarks.
"I have heard," he said, "that some of their
kites are in the form of birds, animals, monsters of
every kind. How would you like to see a herd of
cattle floating in the air ? "
Charley Ferris would," said Joe Martin. He
set a bull afloat, last Saturday."
Not in the air ? "
"No, sir." And Joe felt bound to explain him-
self. Will Torrance added:
That bull's nose was the only thing Otis Burr
hammered without getting a good specimen of it."



You brought home some specimens, then?
Where are they ? "
"Mine are in my desk. I think the other boys
have theirs safe, too."
They were a little reluctant to bring them out.
It seemed as if those bits and chips of stone could
have very small interest in them, but the boys
found out their mistake before the end of Mr.
Hayne's explanation.
Joe Martin had forgotten all about his oyster-
shell, and his face turned as red as fire when he
saw it picked up and examined.
Interesting, certainly. This is from your lot,
Mr. Martin? "
Yes, sir. "
Well, this time, all it means is that there are
oyster dealers in Saltillo, but just such shells as
that have told a great deal to men of science, when
they were found a long distance from where the
sea now is. They said, very plainly, that the sea
had been there at some former time. Oysters can
talk, to some men."
That put Charley Ferris in mind of his piece of
brick. Mr. Hayne came to it just after he had
finished admiring and explaining the fossil.
Rock!" he said, with a smile. Now, Mr.
Ferris, the oyster-shell could tell about the sea.
What is the story told by this specimen of yours?"
"Brick-kiln, sir."
That's it. Men at work on the earth. Old
bricks have had whole histories to tell. We must
have an hour for that some day. What's better,
you may write an essay on old bricks, and Joseph
Martin another on oyster-shells."
"Caught, both of you," whispered Otis.
"And Mr. Burr," continued the smiling teacher,
may give us an essay on cattle."
You 're hit, too, Ote," said Will. I want to
hear that essay."
"And Mr. Torrance may give us an essay on
his Glen, explaining how it came to be where it is.
You may make them leading articles in the next
numbers of your newspapers. I think your long
ramble has been quite a success."
"We did n't get one little joke upon him," said
Charley, when they were once more by themselves.
It's a little on us," said Joe, but if he does
n't know how to deal with boys, I'd like to know
who does."
He knew a piece of brick and an oyster-shell,
when he saw them, at all events, and he knew
what was good for the boys who brought him
"geological specimens of that kind. The whole
school had the story of the bull and the rocks on
their tongues' ends for a week, and it would be a
good while before the Ramblers' Club would hear
the last of it.

Next time," said Will, "we shall have to make
a ramble of ten miles and back. That '11 be tall
walking, you know, and nobody will have anything
to laugh at."
"Ten miles," groaned Charley Ferris, and
nothing at either end of it? Well, I '11 go, but
let's wait a week or so. I want to get that bull
out of my mind."
The rest declared their readiness also, but, like
Charley Ferris, they were all willing to wait.



MAY was passing rapidly.
Andy Wright's second kite was a success, and so
were his tissue-paper balloons, only that while the
former came home again, the latter refused to be
whistled back.
There was a sore spot in the feelings of Will
Torrance. Those four "essays by the members
of the Ramblers' Club did not add exceedingly to
the glory of that institution, and his associates were
a little inclined to charge their ill-fortune to him.
They were good-natured about it, but bulls, bricks,
oysters, and even hammers, were made unpleasant
to him. It set him upon a course of thinking.
If there was one thing the Park boys always went
into with zeal, it was follow my leader." It was
apt to be an after-supper affair, and this was just
the season for it; almost as good as October.
Jack Roberts made a good "leader," and that
position came to him oftener than to anybody else,
but each of the more active boys was sure of his
Once a fellow was leader, it was a point of honor
for every other boy who went into the game to fol-
low him, no matter where he might go. Jack had
led them over the roof of a house and down the
other side, by a single piece of timber, and Otis
Burr had led a dozen of them into a big horse-
chestnut-tree, like so many monkeys, before he
scrambled out on a lower limb and dropped to the
ground. The only wonder was that none of them
had ever broken their bones or their necks, for it
was the ambition of every leader to find out some-
thing nobody had led them into before, and they
generally made out to do it.
Will waited and waited, and it might have been
remarked of him that he was getting more and
more fond of saying how mean it was for a boy to
"back out." Of course the rest agreed with him,
and the law" of the matter grew very rigid.
His turn came, one day, just after supper, when
more boys than usual were gathered at the Park
end, and there was a unanimous vote for him.




"It's Will's turn," said Jack. "He has always
followed first rate. Now let's see how he will lead
"Don't worry about me. All I 'm afraid of is
that some of you will back out," remarked Will.
There was a perfect chorus of declarations that
on no account would one of them falter.
Come on, then !" cried he.
Right across the Park he led the way, but that
was almost a matter of course. Up the next street,
over a fence, across yard after yard, amid a con-
stant succession of barking dogs and shouting

be, and over this they followed. They had done
more perilous things than that before, for they all
could swim, and there was nothing dreadful in a
mere ducking on a warm evening. Still, they
could not help thinking it was time for Will to
turn, only no one boy cared to be the first to say so.
"He's heading for the Tamarack Swamp,"
exclaimed Charley Ferris. "Joe, do you know
where he's going?"
"Follow my leader shouted Will, as he went
over a fence into a piece of plowed ground.
They were fairly out of the city now, and it


householders; but they had been through that
before, and all they wondered at was when he
would make a turn and "circle around" toward
their own neighborhood. That was just what he
did not mean to do, but he said nothing about it.
Straight on he went, over the railway track, through
a thinly settled neighborhood, and then came the
"Are you going to swim it?" asked Jack
Roberts, as he took a look ahead.
Follow my leader was all the reply he got,
and, in another minute, Jack saw all there was of
a new bridge' which had been begun a few days
before. A single "string-piece" lay upon the
breezy-looking skeleton of the bridge-that-was-to-
VOL. VIII.-56.

was growing dusk. In fact, it would have been
lonely work for any boy of them to set out for
home alone.
I say, Will," at last inquired Otis Burr, as he
pushed alongside. "Do you know where you 're
taking us ?"
"Follow my leader," sternly responded the
temporary captain; "this crowd is the Ramblers'
Club, to-night. I 'm bound for Jinksville, and back
home by way of the old stone-quarry. It 's only
twenty miles. We '11 get through in time for
breakfast. Follow my leader."
"Well, no, not to-night," said Otis. "You've
taken the laugh out of them, Will, but I shall want
to go to bed, by and by. I say, boys,,does any of




you want to say anything more about bulls, and
ducks, and stone-hammers, and that sort of thing?"
There was no answer.
Because, if you do, you can just trot on after
Will Torrance. I 've rambled enough, for one
So have I," said Jack Roberts. "Head about,
Will. You can go through anything you want to
on your way home. Always excepting Jinksville
and the stone-quarry."
"All right, then. Follow my leader! How
about the brick and the oyster-shell, boys ? "
They were a panting and speechless company,
and their leAder took pity on them; but not a
great deal, for they had to follow him to the canal
locks, and make their way to the other shore by
way of a boat that was "stuck" against the banks,
just below, after a fashion that made them vow
it would be Will's last chance to drag them into
that kind of scrape.
It was a rough way home, and it was so late
when they again touched the Park fence that every
boy of them had to give an account of himself at
home for staying out until that time of night.
I don't mind," said Will to Otis; the whole
school, pretty nearly, belongs to the Club, now.
They 've all had a ramble, too."
I don't complain," said Otis. But I '11 tell
you what, Will, I 'm warm. That puts me in
mind; Oneoga Creek is getting the chill off. Let's
all go out to the Big Hole on Saturday evening, for
a swim. Some of the boys have been in. Brad
and Tom Lang have tried it twice."
If they 're around the Big Hole to-morrow,
we must look out for tricks," said Will. "They 'd
like to play something on us."

The two Langs were nowhere to be seen, the
next Saturday afternoon, when about half of Mr.
Hayne's school set out together for the "Big
SOneoga Creek was no great stream, as far as the
quantity of water in it was concerned, nor for its
fish, nor even for its beauty, but a little more than
half a mile out of town it had scooped for itself a
deep basin. It was a retired and shaded spot, with
bushes as well as trees on the banks; just the place
for bathing; and the owner of the land had given
the boys free passage to it through a path that was
now well beaten by use. It would have been quite
a calamity to the boys of Saltillo to have had the
Big Hole taken from them.
The party from the Park, that Saturday, were on
the watch, as they walked along.
"There are the Langs," said Jack Roberts.
"Away there behind us. Don't let them know
we see them. Perhaps they '11 keep away!"

Not if they can get hold of our clothes," said
Can't Tige attend to that, Will? asked Phil
That 's what I brought him for. There wont
be any knots tied in our shirts, to-day."
Most boys who have ever done much swimming
have learned how long it takes to undo a hard, wet
knot in a shirt-sleeve, and how very disagreeable
damp sand feels in a pair of socks. There are
other discomforts which can easily be arranged, by
an ill-disposed person, while one is in the water,
and can not see what is going on behind a high
bank. The Park boys were well aware of all this,
and when they reached the Big Hole, the first thing
they did was to pick out a nice place in the bushes
for their clothing.
Make it up in bundles, boys," said Will; and
arrange them in a row, there, at the foot of the
It was neatly done, and then Will called Tiger:
Lie down, sir. Watch "
The moment Tiger had posted himself in front
of those bundles, their owners felt safe to take
" headers from the bank into the cool, clear water
of the Big Hole. All that time, however, there
had been mischief brewing.
Up the road, at a safe distance behind the
bathers, had followed the boys who had interfered
with Joe Martin in so cowardly a way.
This is how their talk ran:
"We '11 fix them this time, Tom."
The tar's melting in the paper."
"We can get sand and gravel enough when we
reach the bank. Wont I give them some knots "
The nearer they came to their destination, the
more carefully they advanced.
"We'd best not let them see us at all. Then
they wont guess who did it."
I hope John Derry is there. I should like to
tar everything belonging to him," said Brad.
John, with the rest, was in the creek, having a
good time, and the two mischief-makers felt sure
of their work. It was only a practical joke, of
course ; still there are not many meaner things than
most practical jokes succeed in being. But there
was something in the way of the jokers, this time.
"There are the clothes, Brad, at the foot of
that tree."
"Keep down, Tom. Don't try to look over.
Not one of them has seen us come."
That was true enough, for not one of the Park
boys cared whether they should come or not. They
were all more or less acquainted with Tiger, and
had unbounded confidence in his teeth and
"I say, Brad, there 's Will Torrance's dog."





"Don't say a word to him. All he '11 care for
will be his master's own clothes. Don't touch
But Tiger had clearly understood that all those
bundles were in his care, and that he was to
"watch," which meant, to his doggish mind, that
there was peril of some kind. It was his duty,
therefore, as the two new-comers approached, to
rise upon all four of his feet. He had seen both
Brad and Tom before, but every dog knows who
are his master's friends and who are not.
"Tiger, poor Tiger! Good dog! Poor fel-
low! coaxed Brad Lang, in a sort of whisper, as
he came near, and as Tom reached out a hand
toward the nearest bundle.
Tiger may have been a good dog and a poor
fellow, but the range of teeth he suddenly showed
was not at all "poor," and the deep, cavernous,
warning growl was "good" only in the way of
saying, "Don't touch that bundle "
Tom drew back his hand, and his brother
stepped away a pace or two.
"Woof,-augh,-woof "
That second growl meant that Tiger's temper
was rising. There were flashes of green light in
his eyes. Other ears than those of the Lang boys
had heard those remarks of Tiger's, and the wet,
red head of Otis Burr suddenly appeared above
the bank.
"All right, boys; Tiger's on hand. Go right
in, Brad; don't mind the dog."
"No, Brad," mockingly added the voice of
John Derry, as his head also came up; "walk
right in! Was it mine you were after? Take
them; I don't care."
Brad and his brother hardly knew what to say,
for Tiger showed strong symptoms of getting
ready for a "charge."
"Will! Will!" shouted Otis; "this way,
quick! Your dog's going for them! Come and
call him off!"
Brad and Tom turned and took to their heels.
"Woof,-woof! barked the dog.
It was hard for Tiger to have to sit down and
"watch," while those two boys were running away.



JUNE had come, with its long, warm days,
when books were a burden, and "Examination"
was but a few weeks ahead. Mr. Hayne had
warned the boys that he should make an affair of
it. He had told them: "Your friends and mine
will be here, and I shall trust you to give a good
account of the use we have made of our time."

There was much discussion of the matter from
that day forward, and every boy of'them began to
have grave doubts as to the stability of his own
nerves and memory under sudden pressure.
"The harrowing will go on all day," remarked
John Derry. Oh dear!"
There was one more cloud in the sky; that was
in a rumor of a party the evening afterward at
Sarah Dykeman's, and nearly all of them would be
"Every girl," remarked Charley Ferris, "will
know how we came out. I don't care, though.
Their examination comes off the week after; so
does Madame Skinner's."
"We '11 get even with them," said Jeff Carroll.
"Why, Charley, would you believe it? Some of
those girls don't know much more than we do."
There was consolation in that, perhaps; but
soon all worldly things, excepting books, went by
the board,-unless, indeed, we except also a silent
preparation for the coming Fourth of July, which
was sure to be a great day in Saltillo. Even
examination could not put it altogether out of
"Are you getting ready, Will?" asked Otis
Burr, one day.
"Ready? No. I can't work out some of the
things in algebra that I thought I knew best; but
I 've a long new piece of poetry to read, when it 's
my turn."
Poetry What has that to do with Fourth of
"Oh, that 's what you 're talking about! .1 've
sold a lot of chickens; I 've had my gun cleaned
and a new hammer put on it; I 'm laying in a pile
of powder and things. What are you doing? "
"Well, I can't say just yet. Jack Roberts has
a big anvil, twice as big as the one we had last
year. Why, it 's as good as a young cannon.
The hole in it is two inches square."
"Is that so? I was wondering what I 'd do
with all my powder. It would use up my gun to
blaze it all away in one day."
"Keep it for the anvil, then. Don't tell any-
body. Jack has it all fixed. He and I are
making plugs and fuses."
Saltillo was behind the age in one thing. It had
a military company, but it did not own a cannon,
and the only resource for a loud noise on the
Fourth of July was to the anvils of its black-
smiths,-that is, to such of them as were made
with deep holes in them to receive the iron foot of
some tool. That hole could be poured full of
powder, to within three inches of the top; a
wooden plug could be driven in, with one corner
of it shaved off to pass a fuse down; then the
fuse could be lighted, and all hands could stand



aside until the "bang" should come, and the
wooden plug should go up, nobody knew nor
cared: how far. There was no such thing as
bursting an anvil, and in that there was consola-
tion for the fathers and mothers of the boys who
ached to make a racket.
It was good news, therefore, that Jack had
secured the right thing for the occasion, and if it
had not been for examination, some of the Park
boys would have been almost happy.
Word went around among them, nevertheless,
that boxes and stray wood for bonfires would be
scarce, and that the price of empty tar-barrels
had gone up to twenty cents apiece. However, a
good deal could be done in the way of fuel by
beginning early, and it was decided to make a
start at once.
Time never did travel quite so fast as during
those weeks in June, and one morning the whole
sixteen awoke with a doleful feeling that their day
of trial had come.
"It 's of no use to look at any books," remarked
Jeff Carroll. "I 've gone back a little lately every
time I 've opened one."
He was not the only boy who had that precise
feeling; and when the church clock struck nine,
there were sixteen blue-looking youngsters behind
the desks of Mr. Hayne's school.
He himself was as smiling as ever, and when
the fathers and mothers of his pupils began to
come in, it was worth while to see how nicely he
received them.
"The room will be jammed full," whispered
John Derry. "We shall have to give up our
chairs and sit on the desks."
But there was an astonishment to come right
away, worse a good deal than that would have
been. Mr. Hayne had planned it, in consultation
with Mrs. Ferris and Mrs. Roberts. He had
nearly completed some very nice "opening re-
marks" when there came a great rustling at the
outer door and in the passage-way, and Mr.
Hayne stopped talking.
-Then the boys felt as if they had about stopped
breathing, for in walked Belle Roberts, Sarah
Dykeman, Dora Keys, Milly Merriweather, Jenny
Sewell, and, in all, about a dozen of the Park
young ladies.
In some mysterious way, Mr. Hayne found seats
for all of them, and there they sat, riil,'I m and
whispering to one another, and bowing to their
older friends, and making themselves at home,"
as Otis Burr said.
'< Speak before them ?" growled John Derry to
himself. "Why, I 'd break down on the Multipli-
cation Table."
Alas for John !-He was the first boy called

upon, and the selection he had made for that day's
declamation vanished from his mind entirely.
He walked bravely forward to the platform, in a
desperate effort to think of the first word, but it
was of no use, whatever. It had gone,-gone,-
gone !
Suddenly, just as he raised his head from a very
long and respectful bow, there flashed into his
memory the beginning of his old "stand-by" from
Webster. There was no help for it. It was that
or nothing, and a broad grin went around the
school as John struck a patriotic attitude, and
"sailed in," as Charley Ferris said.
Mr. Hayne understood the matter, but he made
no remark, and the visitors did not know but that
John was doing the very thing he had meant to do.
Then came another surprise.
Just as Charley Ferris was wondering which
class would be called up first, he was summoned, all
alone, to answer several rapidly put questions in the
Latin Grammar.' He had not even time to forget
anything, and he got through in good style,-only
a little scared.
This is the' queerest examination ever I heard
of," muttered Jeff Carroll, and the words were
hardly out of his mouth before he was requested to
read that day's edition of the Spy."
So the affair went on: a regular mix of exer-
cises, and the visitors seemed to enjoy it greatly,
but at the end of an hour and' a half Mr. Hayne
rose to his feet.
"Our examination," he said, "has now been
going on steadily, every day for two weeks and more.
I think I know just about how much each pupil
has really gained during the quarter. Some have
done better than others, but I am more than satis-
fied with them all. We shall make to-day as inter-
esting as possible, but it will have nothing to do
with the marks or standing of scholars. The
records of these will be shown to parents and
friends only. I think the boys themselves know
about what it ought to be. Where all have done
so well, it would be wrong to single out one from
the rest, but I propose a prize to the whole school,
if they will accept it."
What could it be?
They had no time given them to guess, for he
went right on:
As many as would like to go sailing and fish-
ing with me, on Winnegay Lake, the Tuesday
after the Fourth, will please hold up their hands."
They would have stood up on their desks, every
boy of them, and Mr. Hayne's prize was unani-
mously accepted.
Bashfulness was gone now, and sharp and quick
were the responses to the running fire of questions
which followed.




Mr. Hayne did not spare them on anything,
and Phil Bruce asked, after school:
I say, boys, did n't some of you remember a
good many things you never knew before? I
It was actual fun, and, in dismissing them at
noon, Mr. Hayne remarked, among other things:
"You will be examined in this sort of way every
day of your lives. You will all the while be
telling the people who live around you, whether
you are conscious of it or not, just what use you
have made of your opportunities, and it wont
make so much difference how well you recite on
any one day that you cram and get ready for."
"He is n't exactly right," said John Derry, as
soon as he got out where he could speak his
opinion. He missed a thing or two. He forgot
about Fourth of July. If we did n't cram things,
and get ready beforehand, there would n't be any
racket to speak of."
"It is n't that I 'm thinking of," said Jeff Car-
roll. "Boys, we must get even with the girls!
To think of their coming in the way they did!
Don't I look a little pale yet? "
"Even with them?" said Andy, his eyes bright-
ening suddenly; "that's easy enough. We can
all attend Miss Offerman's examination next week.
Don't let 's stand on ceremony, but go as friends
of the school."
The motion took like wild-fire, but it was voted
a secret; and it was one of the few secrets that
have a chance for being kept.
When the noon recess was over, and the school
came together again, there were no more visitors
to make room for, but there was another surprise.
Mr. Hayne's table, and another at the side of it,
were covered with odd-looking machinery, glass
retorts, bulbs, and the other appliances of a chem
ical laboratory.
"We are to have a class in chemistry next

quarter," said Mr. Hayne, "and I 'm intending to
have an examination of that class now."
That was queer. The idea of examining a class
on things they had never studied! Even Andy
looked puzzled for a moment.
"You do not see what I mean. I '11 tell you:
Before the afternoon is over, I shall know just how
much you know of chemistry, and where I had
better begin to teach you. I have my doubts if
you yourselves could form much of an opinion
before being examined."
It was good sense and good fun, for Mr. Hayne
knew exactly what to do with his machinery, and
the experiments followed one another "thick and
fast." There was noise enough in some of them
for the Fourth of July itself, and the boys were
again astonished to find out how many chemical
questions they could answer, and. yet how little
they knew about it, after all.
Mr. Hayne was in high spirits, because, as he
said, "My experiment in teaching has been a
success, thus far. Now I shall depend on you to
make it a greater one. With your help, we shall
do great things in the fall. Can I trust you?"
There was a moment of perfect silence at the
end of that little speech, and then it- was Charley
Ferris who "boiled over," as John Derry called it,
"Three cheers for Mr. Hayne and the school!"
Three cheers shouted Andy; and the school-
room was hardly large enough to hold the noise
they made with those cheers.
"That will do, young gentlemen. I shall send
around word as soon as I have completed my
arrangements for the sailing trip. Winnegay is a
beautiful lake, and I have already secured a craft
large enough to carry us all nicely. The school is
They did not leave the room, however, without
three cheers more.

(To be continued.)




IN our Treasure-Box of English Literature for June we gave you the immortal Gettysburg speech
of Abraham Lincoln as it fell from the orator's lips.* We now give you a fac-simile of the speech as
copied, a short time afterward, by President Lincoln himself, for the Soldiers' and Sailors' fair at Balti-
more in 1864. You will see by comparing the two that he revised the spoken text. The changes are
very slight, but as this is the form in which Abraham Lincoln evidently desired that it should be handed
down to posterity, we are glad to be able to give you the speech, not only as he revised it, but in his
own handwriting:

*dSil4 Se. NicXou Aor Jnet Pe 3

ST. NicHOLA for June, Page 635.

S2/.ZCOL for JumM, ^-55 Page Se/


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BY M. M. D.

WHEN-EV-ER Pa-pa takes a walk,
He al-ways calls us three;
He says he could n't go with-out
Old Car-lo, Jane, and me.

We laugh and talk, and bark and play,
And Pa-pa swings his cane;-
Once he for-got and. killed some flow-ers,
That stood up in our lane.

And some-times Car-lo runs and jumps,
And Jane stands by a tree,-
Oh dear! what fun my Pa-pa has,
With Car-lo,. Jane, and me!

And, just for mis-chief, Car-lo barks
At ev-er-y one we pass;
And makes the shad-ow of his tail
Keep wag-gin' on the grass.

When Jane can't' walk, I car-ry her,
And Car-lo car-ries me;
Then Pa-pa al-ways walks be-side,
And shouts out Haw!" and Gee !"

I wish he 'd come; poor Jane is tired,
With wait-ing here so long;
Car-lo don't mind-no more do I,
But Jane was nev-er strong.

Car-lo is made of curl-y hair,
And I am made of me;
But Jane is made of wood and things,
As doll-ies have to be.






Oh, here he is! Now for our walk;
He 's sure to take us three;
For Pa-pa could n't go with-out
Old Car-lo, Jane, and me!


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JAC .. N .**T.HEi I UL P

I WISH you all could see the dear Little School-
ma'am as September comes on. Why, she just
shines with joy and expectation! For why? The
children are coming back-coming back to noon
recesses and school luncheons, and as many reci-
tations and all that sort of thing as will go con-
veniently into a six-hours' day and a spirit of fra-
ternity. The children are coming back That's
her song. Only think, dear Jack," she says,
" the cars and steam-boats i fuil! .-. the darlings at
this very moment, and those who staid at home
all through 'vacation '-they 're coming back, too,"
she says,-" coming back into happy school life
and ardent study and improvement."
Up to this point I'm with her. I do bd.lic the
youngsters-every boy and girl of them-are glad
to get back, but when she talks about "ardent
studies," I fancy the very dogs-ears in the grammar
and arithmetic books hang down dolefully. Study
is hard work, say what they will. But if my
youngsters like it and go at it ardently, why so
much the better. I 'm not the Jack to oppose
Now for

I HEAR a good deal of talk nowadays about
Movement-Songs being something very fine and
rather new, just as if my birds had n't been sing-
ing movement-songs from the days of the ark
down! Ah, if you only were little Jacks-in-the-
Pulpit, you 'd understand these movement-songs
perfectly; you 'd know the meaning of every bob
of the quick little heads, and every twitch and
twirk of the bright little bodies; and you 'd see
how they keep time and tell the story, too. But I
suppose children-bless 'em !-suit ordinary folk
better than the birds do,-at least, in the matter
of movement-songs. Only a little while ago, a bit

of writing came to. my pulpit, designed to talk
about this pretty kind of human song-plays, and
as it gave me quite an idea of them, may be some
among you may like to read it. It's meant mainly
for the big folks; but I 'm told that every now and
then a grown-up breaks loose from high-cultured
fields and runs over into the ST. NICHOLAS pasture
for a browse; so here it is, and welcome. You '11
find it fresh and crisp as a bunch of daisies, with a
bit of stubble here and there by way of precept:
"Let any one visit a kindergarten, and watch the heartiness with
which a group of little singerswill turn themselves into carpentersplan-
ing a table or building abridge; into shoe-makers drawing out waxed-
ends and driving in pegs; into farmers, into bakers, wheelwrights,
or scissors-grinders, and they will see that the system is helping
children to a true sense of human relations; of how farmers, arti-
sans, tradesmen, discoverers, and poets all need each other,-in fact,
that through the laws of demand and supply this lifeis a very inter-
.: ..-I.j_ rI l';.
1 I ..;.. rl.,: ?,, Jr ... 11 .:. -.:r into the joys of outdoor life, and
'. .. I. -: ir.I ..r I.-t i tl i i I... l.. with a real feeling of oneness
with the life they represent. Or they will 'talk about the weather,'
-.. ,1 .:-.ii. : .: ......, ,i.- :t., .r .. about in imaginary boats, keep-
:. vi.- : I,, .....: .r ih.:r i, i:.t.i. oars. And the music of these
:... .., .....:-.i .... : ..... r *r.r.ple and very descriptive. The
carpenter's plane and the shoe-maker's hammer must be heard in
them, as well as the i;.. :-. r il.,: birds, the rhythmic flowing of
the brook, and the .air L'.- *' .; Imagination will add what
the notes fail to supply, for the little singers wilt be thoroughly in
earnest, as children always are when they play."

SINCE Deacon Green read to the boys, in my
hearing, the story of the two knights who fought
each other to the death, in a dispute as to what
metal a certain shield was made of, your Jack has
kept an ear for every word that can be said on the
other side of any question. One of those knights,
all clad in.armor, came toward the.shield from.one
direction, and declared that it was made of gold;
the second knight, also cased in iron mail, came
toward the shield from the other side, and asserted
that it was made of silver. When the combat was
ended, and they lay dying, a passing traveler asked
the cause of their disagreement, and, on learning
it. e, -,'',,rl,: thie =.h! id Then he stooped over the
dyr., lirn ht -, -ri.: c plained that on one side the
shield was gold, but on the other it was silver.
So, now for the other side of the Ant question:
My DEAR KIND JACK: The gentle warning which you gave in
August to the children, that they should tread lightly, so as to avoid
destroying the homes of your busy friends, the Ants, no doubt is
good and proper for some place I .r. ri-. -.. ..: where I live, in
Arizona, your words might be .... -J.r.. -- .i" i 'II say superflu-
ous. Why, the country is neither more nor less than one vast ant-
colony! And the swarming hosts of the destructive little creatures
are the worst enemy of every man whose farm contains plowed land;
the tiny pests find that their building work is easy in the broken
But I think I see a ray of hope. Your well-intended protest would
not have been made had there been no persons who could profit by
the warning if they would. Now, I propose, therefore, that every
such person who has heard your advice and paid no heed to it, be
sent here. He may tread as heavily and carelessly as he pleases in
But, really, dear Jack, the ants here are no joke, and presently, if
war is not made upon them, there will be nothing left for the poor
things to eat, unless, indeed, the intelligent creatures at last invent
the desperate idea of eating one another.
I like to look at the problem as if it were merely a family broil in
Dame Nature's household; farmers insisting that their rights ought
to be sustained, at whatever cost to the ants; and ants saying
nothing, but keeping right along at their appointed work, as if they
felt sure that Nature herself would find at length the right road out
of any difficulty that there might be. I hope she will; but I am
much afraid that she will let man act for her; and then, woe to the
ants!-Yours truly, J. J.





DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: May I say a word to the girls about
their children's eyes? Yes ? Thank you, dear Jack!
Who do you suppose makes all the dolls' eyes, girls? They look
so natural nowadays that, unless we stop to think, we are apt to for-
get that they have to be manufactured and put in. The fact is, the
making of these bright little objects is quite an important branch of
manufacture, and one requiring a good deal of skill. Only a few
understand the secret of making the best kind, and they conse-
quently receive large orders. One doll's-eye manufacturer in Bir-
mingham, England, sometimes fills single orders to the extent of
,6soo, or $2500. Think how many bright little doll-faces look out
upon the world after an order like this is filled, and how many glad-
eyed little girls meet their rather staring glances, sure that nothing
could be lovelier!

together, and the little fish is taken quickly and
irresistibly into the stomach at the top of the dome,
and never is seen more !
The small fishes in the picture, one of which is
about to enter the basket, are sea-robins, such as
your Jack gave you a glimpse of in March, 1880,
you may remember. But, as some one says,
" almost everything is fish that comes to this net" ;
and when Mr. Basket, during his lively wander-
ings through the water, finds that he has been so
fortunate as to place himself just over a fine oyster,


All dolls don't stare, though. Do they? Some have really a
beautiful expression. The shape of the lid has a great deal to do
with that. Drooping lids give a sad look, and lids slightly turned
up at the corners will make any doll look lively. I know a little girl
who has a doll with eyes so like her own that any one can see at a
glance that the two are mother and daughter.
Did ou ever hear of the little blind girl who, because she wore a
green fillet over her poor sightless eyes, always bound a fillet over
her dolly's eyes also? Both were blind then, and so could under-
stand each other better. M. E. D.

I 'M told that in the water along the Atlantic
coast of the United States, in places where the
currents have swept clean the rocky floor, is found
a curious-looking animal called the basket-fish."
It looks like an overturned basket, but it also may
be called an arbor or bower, forming, as it does, a
dome of trellis-work standing on its slender tips.
But when a fish swims into this inviting arbor, per-
haps hoping it will prove to be a defense from
some pursuing foe, the poor fellow is pretty sure
to find it a fatal bower. For the arms draw close

that unlucky stay-at-home is soon sucked out of
his comfortable house and eaten up.

DEAR JACK: Did you ever hear of horses wearing spectacles?
There was once a dealer in horses who made them wear spectacles
containing powerful magnifying glasses. Then the small stones in
the road seemed great ones, and the great ones very large, and so
the poor horses were deceived into lifting their feet much higher
than was really necessary. This plan gave the poor creatures
plenty of exercise, and by the same means they acquired, almost
without knowing it, a fashionable high-stepping gait, which was
much admired, and the dealer was enabled to sell them to better
advantage. Yours truly, M. W.
And did M. W. ever hear of the man who put
green spectacles on his cows, and then fed them on
hay? They were so sure it was grass that they
would n't eat it, but waited patiently till some one
should give them the right kind. Finally, they
showed signs of starvation, and then their master
became a quick-stepper, which, of course, was just
what they wished.





IN our July "Letter-Box," dear readers, we said something of
a plan for taking you all into a sort of editorial partnership, whereby
all of you who desired to do so might, in effect, have a voice in the
general management of this magazine, with a view to making it
better and better.
And now, as the first step toward securing these good results, we
extend to each and all of you, who may care to write, a hearty
invitation to send us word concerning the following points:
Ist. Which story or stories in the present volume, so far (or in
back volumes), have pleased you most ?
ad. Who are your favorites among the many writers whose con-
tributions to ST. NICHOLAS you have read ?
3d. What series of papers or instructive articles in ST. NICHOLAS
do you think have been most interesting or useful to you?
4th. Which are your leading favorites among its poems, ballads,
and the lively verses ?
5th. Which pictures do you specially like or object to? Can you
name your six favorites ?
6th. What would you like ST. NICHOLAS to give you? Shall it
be more stories in proportion to other reading matter, and of what
kind-or more papers of instruction or information, and of what
kind-or more fun, or what?
In reporting upon any or all of the above points, young friends,
you will of course bear in mind thatwe do not propose to be directed
by the preferences of any one reader, desirous as we are of giving
each one pleasure. What we ask for is a frank, honest expression
of your tastes and wishes (not of what you think they omght to be,
but just what they really are), and through all the various expres-
sions that come to us, we hope to gain a happy wisdom in meeting
your requirements. We are all the more desirous of this, dear
young friends, because of the steady increase in the circulation of the
magazine. What is it really doing among these thousands upon
thousands of readers, we ask ourselves? Does it reach the sorts of
young folks we have in our mind's eye? Does it meet their best
interests and needs? Does it thoroughly entertain them? And,

DEAR ST. NICHOLA : I was very much interested in that story
called "My Aunt's Squirrels," and I thought the boys and girls
would like to hear about my little squirrel Bessie." She is very
tame, and will let me pat her. When I let her out of her cage, she
will run up my arm to my shoulder and then will run down the other
arm. The other day the window was open, and she got out of
her cage and ran out through the window. I was very much
frightened, and thought I had lost her, but on looking through the
window I saw her running in the next yard, and I went in after her.
I got her back in the cage, but she was so exhausted that she lay
panting for quite a while after.-I am your constant reader,

WE are indebted to Messrs. Cushings & Bailey, of Baltimore, for
permission to reproduce, from a work published by them, the fac-
simile of Abraham Lincoln's autograph of his Gettysburg speech,
printed in the present number.

DEAR EDITOR: I have taken ST. NICHOLAS for several years,
and shall have all of the volumes bound. In my opinion, it is the
best children's periodical ever published. Now and then my parents
say: "Are not you getting too old to read that children's magazine ?"
I am eighteen to-day. I suspect that they are joking, for I have
noticed that they never fail to read every number. I don't think I
shall ever be too old to read the ST. NICHOLAS.-Your constant
reader, JOHN A. LORING.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Have any of your readers ever tried draw-
ing on linen? I am sure they would like it, so I think I will tell

above all, what special short-comings, if any, are first to be noted
and attended to ?
These are the questions which we ask ourselves, you see, and
which you can help us to answer satisfactorily. Therefore will you
please write to us heartily and freely-not labored letters and not
words for publication, but honest, confidential notes to the editor,
replying to any or all of the six special points given, and perhaps
mentioning the most welcome things in current numbers of ST.
In writing, give your name, age, and residence; and put an R
(for Reader) on the lower left-hand corner of your envelope; write
only on one side of the sheet, so that yourletters may be easily read;
and never send contributions to ST. NICHOLAS with these R "
letters. Also bear in mind, please, that where there are so many
correspondents the editor can not possibly reply, excepting in the
way already indicated-that is, by trying to adapt the magazine to
the true needs and requirements of the largest number of its readers
-and even here private judgment must be the umpire. So success
to us, one and all, in our efforts to make ST. NICHOLAu not only
as good as ever, but as much brighter, better, and handsomer as
If any of you would prefer writing to the Little School-ma'am, or
to Deacon Green, do so. "In multitude of counselors" there is
wisdom. The editor could never get on at all without the aid of her
fellow-editors, and the Deacon, and the Dear Little School-ma'am.
A few persons, who read this, may say, "What nonsense! Do
not the editors know that by this invitation they are encouraging
children to be over-forward and fault-finding, and that they are
bringing down upon their devoted heads impudent letters and
impossible demands? Above all, do they not see that they are step-
ping from their high estate, and positively cringing to the bold spirit
of Young America ?"
Our reply to all this would be: We do not see anything of the
kind. We have a high faith in the courtesy and in the affectionate
interest of ST. NICHOLAS readers, and we believe that boys and
girls who will read this page have the honor of ST. NICHOLAS at
heart, and that they will stand by it with loyalty and pride.

them how to do it: You must write for an enlarged package of
decorative indelible ink, with preparations, pens, etc., and inclose
one dollar. When you get the linen, wash it and iron it; then put
the preparation in with a paint-brush; then iron again. Draw what
you want on the linen with the ink; then iron well, and wash it.
You can make things that are pretty, as well as useful.-Your
constant reader, J. H. I.

OUR thanks are due to Messrs. Smith, Elder & Co., of London,
for their courtesy in permitting us to reprint the ballad by Robert
Browning, and the poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, given in
the Treasure-box of Literature" in the present number.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: As I have read in the May number of
ST. NICHOLAS a question from "Zella," asking why, when paper is
rubbed between the knees, it will stick to a piece of wood, I think I
will tell her what I suppose is the cause. It is electricity, produced
by the friction of the paper on the knees, which also causes it to
adhere to the wood.-Your devoted reader, M. 0. L.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a grown-up girl now, but was quite
young when you began. What I want specially to tell you is this:
A friend and I have been making scrap-books for sailors. We have
made eleven, but, as it is slow work, we should like the assist-
ance of others. Now, I thought you could mention it to your young
friends who live on the coast, as they, probably, are acquainted with
more sailors than those living inland. Sailors are great readers, and
they appreciate papers and magazines; but I think they would
prefer scrap-books. The way we do is this: Take old picture-



books and sew them together, and make covers of pasteboard;
or take large old account-books, cut out every other page, or so,
amd paste in cuttings from newspapers and magazines. When
they are finished, we give them to the captain of some vessel, and
tell him to pass them around among the crew. My friend makes
scrap-books containing only pictures, which she sends to hospitals.-
Yours respectfully, A SAILOR'S DAUGHTER.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I received a letter yesterday from a cousin,
who is traveling in India, and I thought I would tell the children
who take ST. NICHOLAS some of the funny things she wrote me:
Her cook is a man, and he wears toe-rings, and, when he is not
busy, he sits on his heels and smokes a long pipe, and would sit that
way all day if she did not make him do something. She says it is
so hot out there that, in summer, the people who own dogs with long
hair have to hire a servant to fan the dogs, to keep them cool.
In Hindustani language, the name for baby is "budja," and
we think it makes a nice nickname for our little fat baby. "Kootta"
means dog, and the next dog we get we are going to give it that
She saw one of the Holy Men, so called because they make a vow
to do something uncomfortable to themselves all their life, or until
they are freed. This one had walked on the ends of his toes so
long, with the aid of a stick, that his heels had grown back into the
muscles of his legs, and you could not see that he ever had had any
heels. His hair was long and matted; lie was covered with some
kind of yellow powder, and was horrible to look at.
She had seen a great many Cashmere goats and fat-tailed sheep,
and last night we found pictures of both of them in our Natural
History.-Yours truly, M. L. BELIN.

Now that the schools are beginning again all over the land, we
think there probably are many mothers who will appreciate the
following little poem:
To-day the house is stiller than it's ever been before,
There's i. :. -:, in disorder from the ceiling to the floor;
L: :i, the chairs around the room
Seem to share the general gloom,
As they stand in sad precision just so far apart,-no more.
The cushions look forbidding as they're placed la-inst the wall,
The very chair-backs seem alone, they stand so I.- ... I tall;
And I feel inclined to cry,
And to set them all awry.
What can it be about the house that seems to chill us all?

I 'd like to scatter every toy now ranged before my sight,
From merry "Punch and Judy," in their gauze and tinsel bright,
To the little dog asleep
In a mournful, woolly heap,
On the half-torn, fingered picture-books, once visions of delight.

That worn old doll, dejected, brings a picture fair and sweet
Of bloom, and warmth, and songs of birds the merry world to
And a little child at play
On a happy Summer's day,
With these toys in gay confusion scattered round about her feet.
And the sunlight, sifting down, shone upon a little head,
And kissed the curls of golden brown an'd turned them bronze
and red;
And the doll was held at rest
On the little lassie's breast,
For both were soundly sleeping as the sunshine lightly sped.
And as I look I do not think the wealth of many lands
Could make me harm the poor old doll once clasped by baby
This armless, limp concern
I've often longed to burn,
Is sacred to those baby days where love forever stands.
Al, well, we all must live and learn; year follows year by rule,
And as one may not stay a child, one dare not be a fool;
And so the world goes on
From rise till set of sun:
To-day our baby takes her turn in starting off to school.

FRED. W, MACALLUM.-The author of "A Talk about the Bicycle"
(ST. NICHOLAS for September, i880), says: "A great many people
seem to be mistaken about the amount of roughness that will make
a road impassable for a bicycle. Bicycles will go on any reason-
ably well-kept way that is not too stony for horses, and there nearly

always is a narrow foot-track beside a country road. Even a
western dirt-road,' or a stretch of grass, will not be too much for
a wheel with a determined rider, forhe will take his trusty steed upon
almost any surface into which it is not likely to sink deep."

JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT has received a great many letters in reply to
his questions concerning the picture of his Prize-Bird in the June
number. Nearly all of the letters gave correct answers, and said,
-that the bird is an Emu, found in Australia, that its Latin name is
Dromaius Nove Hollandise, and that it can run very fast, but can
not fly. The little ones down foot" are the young of the Emu,
and in regard to them Jack wishes us to quote what one of his cor-
respondents says:
The conspicuous stripes on the young birds are retained for only
a short time, or until the feathers of the adult dress replace or con-
ceal the downy covering."
Another correspondent writes: The Emu is not uncommon in
menageries. I think there are two at Central Park now."
A few of the young writers think that the house in the background
of the picture is a hut built in some ZoBlogical garden for the bird to
live in, but most of them suppose it to be the hut of a native.of
Maud M. L. writes that the bird must be an Emu, for her papa
has been to Australia, and has seen the bird, and tells her that
" Emu" is its name.
Alfred R. Wiley, eleven years, says: "I can not tell why the
young ones are striped and the old ones speckled; but, if you would
tell me the reason why a young chicken is often striped, whose
mother wears solid colors, and why the young fawn of the, dun deer
is red with white spots, and why most of us tow-headed boys will
change in a few years to black-haired or brown-haired men, per-
haps this information would give me a clew."
Here is a list of the names of those who wrote to Jack-in-the-Pul-
pit about this ostrichy no-ostrich," as he calls it:
Lizette A. Fisher-Howard T. Kingsbury-Theodore G. White-
Clinton W. Clowe-Albert Tuska-C. S. Fleming-Fanny Hart-
man-Florence E. Pratt-Nathalie and Marshall McLean-Lunette
E. Lampfrey-Maie G. H.-James D. Hailman-Newton Mowton
-C. W. Dawson-Satie A. Townsend-Nellie M. Brown-A. K.
Amacker--"Reader," Orange-Charlie Lamprey--R. F. Rand-
George Cortelyou-T. M. Royal-Jenny H. Morris-Emil G.
Sorg-Fred. C. McDonald-Mary H. Tatnall-H. V. Z. B.-Harry
A. Patton-Maud M. Love-Miffn Brady-George B. Spalding,
Jr.-B. C. Weld-Robert M. Dutton-Alex. G. Barret-Geo. D.
Casgrain-Alfred R. Wiley-Florence G. Lane-"Buttercup and
Daisy "-Lemuel Carey-William Hepburn Buckler-Johnnie A.
Scott-Elizabeth Alling-Letitia Preston-Grace E. Smith--Henri
C. R.-Nannie Duff-S. W. Peck-Elsie A. Patchen-Willie A.
Phelon-Amos G. Robinson.

M. E. C.-In the "Letter-Box" for March, x88r, you will find,
under the name "Trailing Arbutus," an answer to your question:
" How did the girl push the baby-carriage through her bracelet? "

OUR readers will be interested in the following newspaper item
concerning Miss Nellie Rossiter, a girl of fourteen, who has received
the Pennsylvania Agricultural Society's Diploma for her success in
the culture of silk. She says, among other things:
When I first started I had about three hundred worms, which I
procured through a friend of my father's. In a few days I shall
probably possess one hundred thousand. I have made three hun-
dred dollars this year, and I hope to treble that sum in the next
twelve months. It requires careful watching to keep the worms in
good health. They require constant feeding, and somehow they
always need attention at four in the morning. They will only eat
mulberry or Osage-orange leaves. I have a permit to pick those
leaves in the park. When I cannot procure a sufficient amount of
foliage to feed all the worms I expect to be hatched, I freeze as
:..-.. -.-.,i .. .-:. as I cannot provide for at the time. Eggs
I .-. '.:.- r r-over two months, and, on being restored to a
heated room, readily hatch. On the other hand, the worms die,
unless always in a temperature of seventy to seventy-five degrees.
This morning I sold ten thousand eight hundred eggs, fixed on a
card,-each card is covered with little globules the size of pin-heads,
-for one dollar and seventy-five cents. Had I kept them for another
fortnight, I could have sold the little worms for seventy-five cents
a hundred; but then I have thousands and thousands of eggs."




NOT much that is valuable in the study of nature can be learned
from books alone. I should think that from a month's study of an
aquarium made by himself, after the most admirable suggestions of
Mr. Beard in ST. NICHOLAS for July, a boy would learn as much
about small marine animals and plants as he would get from books
alone in a year. I am sure his knowledge would be of a more use-
ful sort.


That the members of the A. A. are at work in the right manner,
is shown by the thousands of interesting specimens which they are
collecting. A few of these have found their way to our Academy
cabinet, either by exchange or gift. As I can not usher you all into
our museum, and point out the many curious things which have
been sent us, I have taken down a few and will let you look at pict-
ures of them. No. 306 is the saw of a saw-fish. This was sent to
us by a little girl who lives in Florida. Part of her letter was printed
last month. This specimen is about a foot long. The saw-fish has
the general form of a shark, but it would be well to ask those of the
A. A. who have not been assigned to other duties, to "study up "

c -.. .
.\ A'


this curious fish and write an account of his habits. A specimen saw
shall go to the one who sends the best report to Lenox by October x.
No. 313 is also from the sea. Do you know what it is? It is
white and nearly flat. Who has seen one alive? Will not some
dweller by the ocean write a description of the "sand-dollar" for
us? We should like to print in this place the best short report on
this curious creature received before October.

The nest is a humming-bird's nest, and is exactly life-size.
It was built quite near the house of one of our members, but,
to his credit be it said, was not molested until the two tiny white
eggs cracked and let
out the little mira-
cles from within. Af-
ter the happy family
had hummed away, / -
the nest was secured.
It is made of the
delicate lichens which
grow on old fenc- ( -' i
es and tree-trunks, L- ''
and is lined with the
soft pappus of dan- -
delions. It scarcely -
could be distin- -
guished from a small ... t .
By the way, speak-
ingofbirds'-nests, the No. 313. THE SAND-DOLLAR.
question has been sev-
eral times sent to me-" How can I avoid the law that forbids all
persons taking the nests or eggs of birds ? I advise you not to try
to avoid it. It is a very wise law, and necessary to protect our sing-
ing birds from extermination. Most of you are so much interested
in other subjects that you can be quite happy without disturbing the
homes of the birds. Still, in many places such laws are local, and
in that case a "permit" may often be obtained from the proper
authorities, granting the privilege of collecting eggs on certain
conditions. If you can not be happy, therefore, without eggs, and
if the law forbids, you must either get a special permit or remain
inconsolable. However, many good collections of eggs have been
made by exchange. You can collect specimens of wood, for example,
and exchange these with some distant oblogist ; or if he prefers
insects or plants, there is no law against your getting them for him.
We have received some finely prepared specimens of wood from
Miss L. L. Lewis, of Copenhagen, New York-and she was so gen-
erous in her supply that we have enough
to exchange for other sorts of specimens.
No. 21 is given to show how a boy may
make a collection of drawings for himself,
which will be of great value. Perhaps you '
can not draw a bird with sufficient accuracy; .' -
you can at least sketch the beak and claws,
as Harry Chamberlin has done, and a great i, .
deal may be learned by a study of these two
extremities of a bird. Harry accompanies
his drawing with the following account of
the bird itself: '
"The Kingfisher-Belted-is a North
American bird of the family Alcedinidm. It
lives upon fish and aquatic insects. K. hovers
over the water until its prey is sighted, then,
dropping from mid-air, it seizes the unfortu- i- p
nate fish or insect in its strong beak. It -,.'
builds its nest out of fish-bones, lined with i
down, in a hole in the bank of a stream. K.
generally lays two pearly white eggs about
the size of a robin's. The color of its bill and
legs, slate and black; eyes black, wings blue
and black on the upper side, white under.
The throat and breast are white, a dark blue (t'
and chestnut-colored band dividing them; 'l
the back is blue. K. has a silky blue crest,
which it raises at will." '
Notwithstanding our repeated cautions, let- ,.! 1
ters concerning the "Ag ssiz Association" ,'r^.-'..:.>
are sometimes sent to the ST. NICHOLAS office .-
in New York. This causes a delay in reply- No. 306. PART OF THE
ing, for all such letters are forwarded whither SAW OF A SAW-FISH.
they should have been first sent. Once in a
while, also, letters come with no address given inside. Itis difficult
to reply to them. After Sept. r5th, address, with stamped envelope
for reply,
HARLAN H. BALLARD, Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.








ANAGRAMMATICAL SPELLING-LESSON.-I. Toothache. 2. Rho- DOUBLE DECAPITATIONS.-I. S-p-ear. 2. B-l-ink. 3. S-c-old.
dodendron. 3. Abyssinian. 4. Alleviate. 5. Cannonaded. 6. 4. W-h-eel. 5. S-h-ark. 6. S-n-ail. 7. S-t-ill. 8. S-t-one.
Engagement. 7. Initiation. 8. Opinion. 9. Pertinent. ro. MYTHOLOGICAL DIAGONAL PUZZLE.-Diagonals: Varuna. 7.
Phosphorus. Vulcan. 2. PAllas. 3. NeReus. 4. SatUrn. 5. SphiNx. 6.
CROSS-WORD JINGLE.-August. UraniA.- CHARADE.-Sand-piper.
DOUBLE AcROSTIC.-Primals: William. Finals: Wallace. Cross- WORDS WITHIN WORDS.--. B-allot-s. 2. A-die-u. 3. E-qui-ty.
words: i. WilloW. v. IndianA. 3. LaureL. 4. LowelL. 5. 4. C-lose-t. 5. O-range-s. 6. C-hang-e. 7. C-ant-o. 8. B-Anne-r.
IowA. 6. AtlantiC. 7. MainE. 9. L-attic-e. to. M-Erin-o.
CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.-Lemonade. -CHANGED HEADS.--. H-are. 2. D-are. 3. C-are. 4. W-are.
THREE WORD-SQUARES.-I. I. East. 2. Asia. 3. Siam. 4. F r-,: M-are. 7. R-are.
Tame. II. x. Czar. 2. Zero. 3. Arts. 4. Rose. III. I. 1 Across: I. Cabal. 2. Toned. 3. Gowan. 4.
Inch. n. Nile. 3. Clan. 4. Hens. Nicer. 5. Sewer.
DROP-LETTER PUZZLE.-I. Alabama. 2. Caracas. 3. Bahama. TRANSPOSITIONS. I. Danes; Andes; deans; Sedan. 3.
4. Havana. 5. Malaga. Reim; rime; mire; emir. 3. Rams; arms; Mars. 4. Laity;
HALF-SQUARE.-I. P. 2. Ha. 3. Gas. 4. Hash. 5. Pasha. Italy. 5. Planes; Naples. 6. General; enlarge; gleaner.

THIS differs from the ordinary cross-word enigma by requiring
two answers instead of one. The first letter of each answer is "in
dandy, but not in fop," the second "in yard-stick, but not in shop,"
and so on, until the two words of five letters each have been spelled.

Our firsts are in dandy, but not in fop;
Our seconds in yard-stick, but not in shop;
Our thirds are in many, but not in herds;
Our fourths are in parrots, but not in birds;
Our fifths are in hand, hut not in knee:
Two mythical beings perhaps you 'll see. M. v. w.

THE removed letters, when arranged in the order here given,
spell the name of a celebrated English author.
i. Syncopate an intimate associate, and leave a demon. 2. Synco-
pate heavy vapor, and leave a lump of earth. 3. Behead a bench,
and leave to corrode. 4. Behead a champion, and leave a time of
darkness. 5. Syncopate honest, and leave distant. 6. Syncopate
humane, and leave the young of a horned animal. VERNA B.


CENTRALS: The season for gathering crops. AcRosS: i. The
prevailing style. e. Fragile. 3. A sphere. 4. In sportive. 5. A
large body of water. 6. Nice perception. 7. A division.

My whole i3 composed of twelve letters, and is an important
island of Europe.
My 4- -xo-7-io-9 is a mountain in Asia. My 5-8-6-3-2 is a
river in Italy. My 9-4-r12-1-1-3-7 is a fortified sea-port in Africa.

THE central letters of this puzzle, reading across, form a word of
ten letters, made of two words of five letters each. Upon the first
half of -.. I ,... word the left-hand diamond is based; and upon
the other I-, i" I- based the right-hand diamond.
In wrong. 2. A boy. 3. A necessity of life. 4. A cave. 5. In
right. RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND (across): i. In cumbrance. a. A
boy's nickname. 3. A fruit. 4. To put on. 5. In vulnerable.
I AM composed of fifty-seven letters, and am an old proverb, con-
sisting of two lines, used by mariners. The first line describes two
peculiar appearances of the clouds before or during a high wind.
My 54-17-45-39-34-6 is an iron instrument for holding a ship at
rest in water. My 31-14-22-56 is the principal timber in a ship.
My 3-2o-41-28-36-x2-i7 is an upright machine of timber which is

used in ships for heaving in cables. My 29-2-55-17-57-25-40-5o is
the principal sail in a ship. My 9-41-30-17-4-32-47 ii the after-sail
of a ship. My 39-7-27-19 is the instrument by which a ship is
steered. My 23-41-30-48 is a long beam. My 2x-44-49-46-50 is a
small sail spread immediately above the top-gallant sail. My 53-31-
37-o1-16-26-8 is the sail set next above the royal. My 24-51-52 is
to draw through the water by means of a rope. My 18-5-z1-4-r5
are the floor-like divisions of a ship. My 35-51-48-32-1-46-42-43
is the mast of a vessel which is nearest the bow. My 38-36-32-1 is
to make progress against a current, My 39-44-33-18 is that part of
a vessel in which the cargo is stowed. My 47-20-55-13 is a narrow
plank nailed for ornament or security on a ship's upper works.

AcRoss: x. A tune. 2. A heavy club. 3. Bustle. 4. A venom-
ous serpent. 5. The Greek name for Mars.
DIAGONALS, from left to right, downward, beginning at the lower
left-hand letter: i. In Autumn. 2. Remote. 3. To revile. 4.
Grates harshly upon. 5. A possessive pronoun. 6. In Autumn.
ALL the words are of equal length. The second line, read down-
ward, names a certain dish, which is eaten in England on the day
named by the letters of the third line when read upward.
ACROSS: i. A poetic word, meaning "formerly." e. To cover
with a layer of any substance. 3. To domesticate. 4. An island.
5. A little branch connecting a flower with a main branch. 6. A
general name of the kings of the Amalekites. 7. A noted square
n London. 8. Stone. 9. A grand division of the earth. to. A
plant whose fibers are used in making cordage. F. s. F.

My first is in food, but not in meat;
My second in cold, but not in heat;
My third s in model, but not in cast;
My fourth is in slow, but not in fast;
My fifth is in power, but not in might;
My sixth is in dark, but not in light;
My seventh in cost, but not in worth;
My whole are called the stars of earth. CHARLOTTE.

THESE anagrams are formed of the names of cities, each being
preceded by a characteristic description of that city.
s. A philanthropic city:-SoB NOT. 2. An enterprising city:-
ON! WE KRY. 3. A rver-spanning city :-CROST HERE. 4. A
magnificent city:-IN SHAG TOWN. 5. A sea-port city:--LET 'S
ANCHOR. 6. A hot city:-BOIL ME. 7 A new city :-U LAST.
O. S. Ws Y.
ADD what is gathered in fall to what is gathered in winter, and
you will have what often decorates windows the year round. G. F.





THE answer to the above numerical enigma contains fifty-one letters, and is a well-known saying from the Bible. The key-words are
not defined in the usual way, but are represented by pictures, each of which refers by a Roman numeral to its own set of Arabic numerals,
given in the following statement of the puzzle: I. 1-2-10-8. II. 44-23-41-43. III. 3-11-8. IV. 4-0o-48-12. V. 5-28-22-44-7.
VI. 6-24-9-38-49. VII. 7-31-46. VIII. 15-41-37-4-X3. IX. 40-50-45-27. 25-21-22-14-30-35-51. XI. 20-31-23-33-47. XII.
36-11-43. XIII. x9-6-45. XIV. 4-39-31-29-48. XV. 32-34-42-48-ar. XVI. 26-4-45. JOHN TAYLOR.

THE names of solvers are printed in the second number after that in which the puzzles appear.
THE SOLUTION of our June puzzle was received, too late for acknowledgment in the August number, from Lillie Lane, Bonham, Texas.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JULY NUMBER were received, before July 20, from Mary R. Tyng, 2-Bessie McJ. Tyng, 4-" King
Wompster," all-"Jessamine," i-Lizzie M. Boardman, x-"Phil. I. Pene," 2-B. L. Early, 2-The B. S. and F. families, lo-Hattie E.
Rockwell, 12-" Chickie," 5-George W. Barnes, 5- Camille Giraud, 5-Algie Tassin, 3-Mabel Thompson, 2-Augusta, 2-Tad, 6-
Bessie and her Cousin, r--Lulu Clarke and Nell;.i C': ..1 ,l .- 7T Ti Ward and L. B. Johnson, 12-Lizzie D. Fyfer, 6-H. A. Vedder,
6-" Professor and Co.," io-Minnie Thiebaud, x- i ..., i: ..-: ,.. ., Lalla E. Croft, Bella A., 5-Fannie B. Wyatt, i-Mrs. J. L.
Cilley and Mabel, 2-Raymond Cilley, x-Grace Taylor Lyman, x-G. A. Lyon, ro-Bessie C. Barney, 7-0. C. Turner, all-Effie K.
Talboys, x-Lizzle H. D. St. Vrain, 9-Warren G. Waterman, i-" Fairview Nursery," io- Rosalie, Arthur, and Mary, xo-Marion and
Harry, --Mary and John, 8-Josie H. Wickett and May H. Carman, 3-Lyde McKinney, nI-D. W. Robert, and Flavel and Nannie
Mines, 5-" Marna and Ba," all-Joseph G. Deane, 3- Otis and Elliott Brownfield, 6- Blanche R. Percey, 5- Frank B. Howard, no-
John Wroth, lo-" Dorothy Dump and Barbara Bright," 7-Rose I. Raritan, 5--Wallace K. Gaylord, 4-Johnny Putnam, i-Mollie
Weiss, 7-Charlie W. Power, i--Dollie Francis, io-"Deacon," 4-J. D. Hayden, i-Graham F. Putnam, 3-M. M. Libby, 6-Geo.
F. Weld and Geo. J. and Esther L. Fiske, 6-Florence G. Lane, 8-Kate T. Wendell, 7--H. C. Warren and F. C. Torrey, o-- Comie
and May, 9-Nellie J. Gould, 8-Bessie Taylor, 3-Charlie and Josie Treat, all-Henry C. Brown, 12-Florence E. Pratt, 8-"Queen
Bess," i--Trask, all-P. S. Clarkson, xn-George R. Shenk, 2-Fred Wilford, 7- "Comet," Cincinnati, 8-"Pearl and Ruby," 4-
Philip S. Carlton, 7-Jenny and Tinie, 8-Anne and Maria Mcllvaine, 8-H. R. Labouisse, 4-H. L. P., 5-Valerie Frankel, 7-Fred
C. McDonald, i2-Willie Maddren, i-"Olivette," 7-Annie H. Mills, io-J. B. Bourne, 4- "Partners," 8-"Day and Night," Ir-
Lizzie C. Carnahan, ro- Edward Vultee, 9- Katie Smith, 6- B. B. Potrero, 8- J. S. Tennant, r2- Edward M. Traber, 4- Greenwood
Lake," 7-"Carol and her Sisters," 9-Louise and Nicoll Ludlow, 7-Florence Leslie Kyte, all-"Verna," 4-Fred Thwaits, In-Sallie
Viles, 9- "Guesser," all-Archie and Charlotte Warden, 6-Dycie, 9. The numerals denote the number of puzzles solved.

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