Front Cover
 A winter song
 The Christmas fairies
 A family drive
 The story of Viteau
 The discovery of the mammoth
 Christmas day
 "Soul, soul, for a soul-cake!"
 Changing a face - An open...
 Mary and her garden
 Coasting on Lake Winnipeg
 An alphabet of children
 The banished king
 Little Beppo
 An accident in high life
 The Tinkham brothers' tide-mil...
 The story of the field of the cloth...
 A Christmas carol (words and...
 Grandmamma's pearls
 A sad disappointment
 The snow-birds' Christmas-tree
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00123
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
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: VID00123
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: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    A winter song
        Page 81
    The Christmas fairies
        Page 82
    A family drive
        Page 83
    The story of Viteau
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
    The discovery of the mammoth
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
    Christmas day
        Page 92
    "Soul, soul, for a soul-cake!"
        Page 93
    Changing a face - An open letter
        Page 94
        Page 95
    Mary and her garden
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
    Coasting on Lake Winnipeg
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 110
        Page 111
    An alphabet of children
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
    The banished king
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
    Little Beppo
        Page 127
    An accident in high life
        Page 128
    The Tinkham brothers' tide-mill
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
    The story of the field of the cloth of gold
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
    A Christmas carol (words and music)
        Page 142
        Page 143
    Grandmamma's pearls
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
    A sad disappointment
        Page 151
    The snow-birds' Christmas-tree
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
    The letter-box
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
    The riddle-box
        Page 159
        Page 160
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
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VOL. X. DECEMBER, 1882. No. 2.

[Copyright, 1882, by THE CENTURY CO.]



OH, Summer has the roses
And the laughing light south wind,
And the merry meadows lined
With dewy, dancing posies;
But Winter has the sprites
And the witching frosty nights.

Oh, Summer has the splendor
Of the corn-fields wide and deep,
Where scarlet poppies sleep
And wary shadows wander;
But Winter fields are rare
With diamonds everywhere.

Oh, Summer has the wild bees,
And the ringing, singing note
In the robin's tuneful throat,
And the leaf-talk in the trees;
But Winter has the chime
Of the merry Christmas time.

Oh, Summer has the luster
Of the sunbeams warm and bright,
And rains that fall at night
Where reeds and lilies cluster;
But deep in Winter's snow
The fires of Christmas glow.

VOL. X.-6.



BY M. E. K.

AUNT RUTH sat thinking. It was only a week
before Christmas, and, as yet, no gift had been
decided upon for her pet niece, who lived in a
distant city.
It was hard to know what to give Bessie-she
seemed so well supplied with everything a little
girl could want for comfort or pleasure. She was
such a good child, and so unselfish, that she was a
general favorite, and her friends, young and old,
were always sending her some pretty trinket, until
her own room was a kind of museum of love-
tokens; every corner was full, her bureau loaded,
the table covered, and the walls adorned; in fact,
it had almost become a proverb in the family that
"Whatever Bessie wished for always came."
Now she was ten years old, had declared her-
self tired of Christmas trees, and announced that
to hang up a stocking for Santa Claus to fill was
too childish-she should like to keep Christmas
some new way. This was what Aunt Ruth was
puzzling over. At last, with a look of relief, she
exclaimed: I have an idea! I know it will please
She immediately went to her writing-desk,
wrote a long letter to Bessie's mamma, and folded
into it a crisp bank-note.
On Christmas morning Bessie opened her eyes
upon a bright silver quarter which lay on her
pillow. Beside it was a tiny note. She opened it
and read:
"DEAR BESSIE: I am one of fifteen silver fairies which are to
appear to-day, with a Christmas greeting from your Aunt Ruth.
Take us all together down to some big store to-morrow, and
we will turn into whatever small thing you may wish for."
Oh, how nice !" said Bessie. What a funny
auntie! always doing something different from
other people. I don't quite understand what it all
means, but I am glad enough of this bit of spend-
ing-money, for I had n't one cent left."
And, wide awake, she jumped out of bed and
began pulling on her stockings, when, to her sur-
prise and delight, she found a shining piece of silver
in the foot of each. Two of Aunt Ruth's fairies had
taken possession of her shoes, another faced her
in the wash-bowl, and a wee one was in the box
beside her brush and' comb.
These will almost fill my poor, little empty
purse," she thought, as she took it from a drawer
and touched the spring -but there, right between
the red linings, was the biggest fairy that had yet
appeared !

Such a merry time as she had dressing that
morning! Mamma was called in continually.
And how they laughed over every new discovery !
At breakfast, she was served first to a small
piece of silver coin; another, just the same size,
shone in the bottom of the glass of water Bridget
brought her. It was really enchanting--quite
like the story of Midas she had just been reading,
only whatever he touched turned into gold. She
wondered if the chicken, potatoes, and rolls would
turn into silver when she tasted them; but, no !
Although she looked very suspiciously at every-
thing on the table, not another fairy showed
How many times that morning she counted her
ten silver fairies, I can not tell. But what fun she
had hunting after the other five, upstairs and down-
stairs, from attic to cellar, under rugs, in work-
baskets, and in every conceivable place! Search-
ing was all in vain, however; fairy number eleven
did not appear until dinner-time, when it flew out,
most unexpectedly, as Bessie was unrolling her
napkin, and its silver mate lay temptingly among
the nuts when dessert was brought in.
Bessie spent a happy afternoon sitting in the
midst of her many presents, and planning how to
spend her little fortune. Some of her fairy pieces
should turn into a pair of warm mittens for poor
Johnnie Davis; many times it had made her heart
ache as she had watched him trying to shovel
snow with such red hands. She would carry a
basket full of fairy cakes, frosted with pink and
white sugar, to old colored Susan (she had over-
heard her telling the cook that it was many a long
day since she had tasted anything nice); she
would change her biggest fairy into a pretty doll
for that distressed-looking crippled girl who lived
around in the alley, and would carry out many
other plans of the same sort.
But Mamma was calling her to get ready for a
walk, and, rather reluctantly, she turned away
from her new treasures to put on her wrappings,
and felt in the pocket of her cloak for her gloves.
They were missing, but there she found a fairy,
and another came sticking out from the bow on
her hat, in a most comical fashion.
That night, at supper, a little cake was placed
before Bessie's plate, and fairy fourteen came near
being eaten, but peeped into sight just in time to
be saved from such a fate. How pleasantly and
quickly the evening passed All the new things



had to be looked at and admired over again. There
was one more hunt after the fairy that had not
made its appearance; it was unsuccessful, how-
ever, and bed-time, that dread of children, came
at last. It was strange (for Bessie had ransacked
her room five minutes before), but there, quietly
resting on the snowy pillow, lay the last of Aunt
Ruth's fairies !
While she was undressing, Mamma explained
all the mysteries of the day by reading her Aunt
Ruth's letter, in which full directions had been
given. Then she told how Papa had changed the
paper money into the newest and brightest coins
he could find; how busy she had been hiding
them, as Auntie had suggested, and how success-
fully she had escaped being caught.
"Well, Mamma, it 's the merriest Christmas
Day I ever knew! I like all my presents very
much, but I think I have enjoyed my fairies the
most. I know what I shall do to-morrow. I have

got it all planned. Some other people shall see
fairies too."
And thanking her Heavenly Father for all his
good gifts, Bessie tucked the crowded purse under
her pillow, lay down, and was soon fast asleep.
Early next morning, with Mamma to help and
advise, Bessie started out on her pleasant errands
of love; and the silver fairies disappeared rapidly
into all kinds of the oddest-shaped parcels, until
Bessie's big basket was full, and her arms too.
Such fun she had distributing her fairy bundles,
and such looks and words of gratitude as she re-
ceived in return "Why, it's nicer than my
Christmas, Mamma," she whispered, as she turned
to leave the poor little cripple, whom she had
made so happy by giving her the first doll she
had ever owned.
So, many sad hearts were made glad that day,
and the whole long year, by Aunt Ruth's Christ-
mas fairies.






LOUIs did not submit readily to his captors. At
first he was angry; then he cried, and when some
of the men laughed at him for being a baby he
got angry again, and told them they were a band
of cowards to set upon him in this way,-a dozen
men on one boy,- and that if they wanted to rob
him they might do it and go about their business.
He did not care; he could walk home.
"No, no, my valiant page," said the leader of
the robbers; "we don't want you to walk and we
don't want you to go home. We shall take you
with us now, and we will see about the robbing
afterward. "
And with this he turned the little horse around,
Copyright, 1882, by F. R. Stockton.

and led him, by a path which Louis had passed
without noticing it, into the depths of the forest.
On the way, the robber asked his young prisoner
a great many questions regarding his family, his
connections, and his present business in riding
thus alone through the forest roads. To these
questions Louis was ready enough to give answer,
for it was not his nature to conceal anything, unless
he thought it absolutely necessary. Indeed, he
was quite proud of the opportunity thus afforded
him of talking about the rank and importance of
his mother, and of dwelling upon the great power
and warlike renown of the nobleman under whom
he served.
They will not let me stay here long, you may
be sure of that," said Louis. "As soon as they
t This story was begun in the November number. -



hear that you have carried me off, they will take
me away from you."
"I hope so, indeed," said the robber, laughing;
"and if I had not thought that they would take
you from me, I should not have taken the trouble
to capture you."
"Oh, I know what you mean," said the boy.
"You expect them to ransom me."
I most certainly do," replied the other.
But they will not do it," cried Louis. "They
will come with soldiers and take me from you !"
"We shall see," returned the robber.
It was almost dark wheri, by many winding and
sometimes almost invisible paths through the
forest, the party reached a collection of rude huts,
which were evidently the present dwelling-places
of these robbers, or cotereaux, as they were called.
There were several classes of highwaymen, or
brigands, in France at this time, and of these the
cotereaux were, probably, the most numerous.
There were fires built in various places about
the open space in which the huts had been erected,
and there were a good many men around the fires.
A smell of cooking meat made Louis feel sure that
supper would soon be ready, and this was a com-
forting thing to him, for he was very hungry.
The supper which was served to him was of plain
food, but he had enough, and the bed he slept on,
at the back part of the Captain's hut, was nothing
but a lot of dry leaves and twigs, with a coarse
cloth thrown over it; but Louis was very tired, and
it was not long before he was sound asleep.
He was much troubled, of course, at the thought
of going to bed in this way, in the midst of a band
of robbers, but he was not afraid that they would
do him any injury, for he had heard enough about
these cotereaux to know that they took prisoners
almost always for the purpose of making money
out of them, and not to do them useless harm. If
he had been an older and a deeper thinker, he
would, probably, have thought of the harm which
might be done to him in case no money could be
made by his capture; but this matter did not
enter his mind. He went to sleep with the feel-
ing that what he wanted now was a good night's
rest, and that, in some way or other, all would be
right on the morrow.
Michol, the captain of the band, was very plain-
spoken, the next morning, in telling Louis his
plans in regard to him. I know well," he said,
" that your mother is able to pay a handsome ran-
som for you, and, if she is so hard-hearted that she
will not do it, I can depend on Barran. He will
not let a page from his castle pine away in these
woods, for the sake of a handful of gold."
My mother is not hard-hearted," said Louis,
"and I am not going to pine away, no matter how

long you keep me. Do you intend to send to my
mother to-day ? "
Not so soon as that," replied Michol. "I
shall let her have time to feel what a grievous thing
it is to have a son carried away to the heart of
the forest, where she can never find him, and
where he must stay, month after month and year
after year, until she pays his worthy captors what
she thinks the boy is worth."
"I '11 tell you what I'll do," said Louis. "If
you will give me my horse and my falcon, which
your men have taken from me, and will let me
have again my dagger, I will go to Viteau, myself,
and tell my mother about the ransom; and I prom-
ise you that she will send you all the money she can
afford to spend for me in that way. And, if there
is no one else to bring it,-for our men might be
afraid to venture among so many robbers,-I shall
bring it myself, on my way back to Barran's castle.
I am not afraid to come."
I am much pleased to hear that, my boy,"
said Michol, "but I do not like your plan. When
I am ready, I shall send a messenger, and no one
will be afraid to bring me the money, when every-
thing is settled. But one thing you can do. If
you have ever learned to write,-and I have heard
that the Countess of Viteau has taught her sons
to be scholars,-you may write a letter to your
mother, and tell her in what a doleful plight you
find yourself, and how necessary it is that she
should send all the money that I ask for. Thus
she will see that you are really my prisoner, and
will not delay to come to your assistance. One of
my men, Jasto, will give you a pen and ink, and
something to write your letter on. You may go,
now, and look for Jasto. You will know him by
his torn clothes and his thirst for knowledge."
Torn clothes! said Louis, as he walked away.
"They all have clothes of that kind. And, as for
his thirst for knowledge, I can not see how I am to
find out that. I suppose the Captain wanted to
give me something to do, so as to keep me from
troubling him. I am not going to look for any
Jasto. If I could find my horse, and could get a
chance, I should jump on him and gallop away from
these fellows."
Louis wandered about among the huts, peering
here and there for a sight of Agnes's little jennet.
But he saw nothing of him, for the animal had
been taken away to another part of the forest, to
keep company with other stolen horses. And even
if he had been able to mount and ride away unob-
served, it would have been impossible for Louis to
find his way along the devious paths of the forest
to the highway. More than this, although he
seemed to be wandering about in perfect liberty,
some of the men had orders to keep their eyes



upon the boy, and to stop him if he endeavored
to penetrate into the forest.
Ho, there!" said a man, whom Louis suddenly
met, as he was walking between two of the huts,
" are you looking for anything? What have you
I have lost nothing," said Louis, deeming it
necessary to reply only to the last question.
I thought you lost yoir liberty yesterday," said
the other, "and, before that, you must have lost
your senses, to be riding alone on a road, walled
in for miles and miles by trees, bushes, and brave
cotereaux. But, of course, I did not suppose that
you came here to look for either your liberty or
your senses. What is it you want ? "
Louis had. no intention of telling the man that
he was looking for his horse, and so, as he felt
obliged to give some answer, he said:
"I was sent to look for Jasto, so that I could
write a letter to my mother."
"Jasto! exclaimed the man. "Well, my
young page, if you find everything in the world
as easily as you found Jasto, you will do well. I
am Jasto. And do you know how you came to
find me? "
I chanced to meet you," said Louis.
Not so," said the other. If I had not been
looking for you, you never would have found me.
Things often happen in that manner. If what we
are looking for does not look for us, we never find
it. But what is this about your mother and a let-
ter? Sit down here, in this bit of shade, and make
these things plain to me."
Louis accepted this invitation, for the sun was
beginning to be warm, and he sat down by the
man, at the foot of a tree.
I do not believe you are Jasto," he said, look-
ing at his companion. "Your clothes are not
torn. I was told to look for a man with torn
"Torn clothes I exclaimed the other. "What
are you talking of? Not torn? Why, boy, my
clothes are more torn and are worse torn and
have staid torn longer than the clothes of any
man in all our goodly company. But they have
been mended, you see, and that is what makes
them observable among so many sadly tattered
Louis looked at the coarse jerkin, breeches, and
stockings of the man beside him. They were,
certainly, torn and ripped in many places, and the
torn places were of many curious shapes, as if the
wearer had been making a hurried journey through
miles of bramble bushes; but all the torn places
were carefully mended with bright-red silk thread,
which made them more conspicuous than if they
had not been mended at all.

I see that they have been torn," said Louis,
"but they are not torn now."
"A great mistake, my good sir page-a great
mistake," said the other; "once torn, always torn.
If my clothes are mended, that but gives them
another quality. Then they have two qualities.
They are torn and they are mended. If one's
clothes are torn, the only way to have clothes that
are not torn is to have new ones. Think of that,
boy, and make no rents in yourself nor in your
clothes. Although mending can be done very
well," he added, looking complacently at his
breeches, "the evil of it is, though, that it always
"I could mend better than that," said Louis.
That is to be hoped; it is truly to be hoped,"
said the other, "for you have had better chances
than I. This red silk, left in our hands by a fair
lady, who was taking it to waste it in embroidery
in some friend's castle, was all the thread I had for
my mending. Now, you could have all things
suitable for your mending, whether of clothes or
of mind or of body, if it should so happen that
you should have rents in any of these. But tell
me, now, about your letter."
There is nothing to tell," said Louis, except-
ing that your Captain wishes me to write a letter
to my mother, urging her to send good ransom for
me, and that he said you could give me pen and
ink and something to write upon."
"Pen and ink are well enough," said the man,
who, as Louis now believed, was really Jasto, "for
I can make them. But something to write on is a
more difficult matter to find. Paper is too scarce,
and parchment costs too much; and so there is
none of either in this company. But I shall see to
it that you have something to write on when you
are ready to write. It strikes me that the chief
trouble will be to put together the three things-
the pen and the ink and the something to write
on-in such a manner as to make a letter of them.
Did you ever write a letter ?"
Not yet. But I know how to do it," said Louis;
and, as he spoke, he remembered how he had
promised his brother to write a letter to him. He
was now going to send a letter to Viteau, but
under what strange circumstances it would be
written! If he were at the castle, Agnes would
help him. He wished he had thought of asking
her, weeks ago, to help him.
"I have written a letter myself," said Jasto,
"but before I had written it I trembled to say I
could do it. And I was a grown man, and had
fought in three battles. But pages are bolder
than soldiers. Would you like to hear about my
letter ?"
Indeed I should," said Louis, anxious to lis-



ten to anything which might give him a helping
hint regarding the duty he had taken upon himself.
"Well, then," said Jasto, stretching out his
legs, "I shall tell you about my letter. It was
just before --"
"Jasto !" rang out a voice from the opposite
side of the inclosure formed by the huts.
"There! cried Jasto, jumping to his feet,
"that is the Captain. I must go. But you sit still,
just where you are, and when I come back, which
will be shortly, I shall tell you about my letter."

a good appearance at the house of his cousin, with
whom he was to live, Bernard insisted on his em-
ploying nearly all his leisure time in out-door
exercises and knightly accomplishments. Hawk-
ing was postponed for the present, for, after the
loss of Raymond's falcon was discovered, Bernard
declared that he had not the heart to train another
one immediately, even if a good bird could be
easily obtained, which was not the case.
Very little was said about the disappearance of
the falcon. Raymond, his mother, and the squire



WE must now go back to the Chateau de Viteau,
and see what has happened there since the depart-
ure of Louis for his new home. Of course, the
boy was greatly missed by his mother and brother,
but Raymond soon found himself so busy that he
had not time enough to grieve very much over the
absence of his old playmate. In order to prepare
himself for the school at Paris he was obliged to
study diligently, and in order that he might make

each had a suspicion that Louis had had something
to do with it; but no one of them mentioned it to
either of the others. Each hoped the suspicion
was unfounded, and therefore said nothing about it.
While Raymond was busy with his studies and
his manly exercises, the mind of Bernard, even
while giving the boy the benefit of his knowledge
of the management of horses and the use of arms,
was occupied with a very serious matter.
As has been said before, the Countess of Viteau
was one of the very few ladies in France who was


fairly educated, and who took an interest in acquir-
ing knowledge from books. This disposition, so
unusual at that time, together with her well-known
efforts to have her sons educated, even giving a
helping hand herself whenever she found that she
was qualified to do so, had attracted attention to
her, and many people began to talk about her, as
a woman who gave a great deal of time to useless
pursuits. Why should a lady of her rank-these
people said-wish to read books and study out the
meaning of old manuscripts, as if she were of no
Higher station than a poor monk ? If there were
anything in the books and parchments which
she ought to know, the priests would tell her all
about it.
But the Countess thought differently, and she
kept on with her reading, which was almost en-
tirely confined to religious works, and in this way
she gradually formed some ideas about religious
matters which were somewhat different from those
taught at that time by the Church of Rome, or, at
least, from those taught by the priests about her.
She saw no harm in her opinions, and did not hes-
itate to speak of them to the priests who came to
the chateau from a neighboring monastery, and
even to argue in favor of them.
The priests, however, did see harm in the ideas
of the Countess, simply because, in those days,
people had very narrow and bigoted ways of think-
ing in regard to religious affairs, and it was gen-
erally thought that any person having an opinion
differing, even very little, from what was taught by
the monks and priests, was doing a wicked thing
to persist in such an opinion after he had been
told it was wrong.
For this reason, when the priests who had charge
of the religious services at Viteau found that their
arguments made no impression on the Countess,
who was able to answer them back in such a way
that they could find nothing more to say on their
side of the question, they reported the' state of
affairs to some of the higher officers of the Church,
and, in due time,. a man was sent to Viteau to find
out exactly what its mistress did think, and why
she was so wicked as to think it.
The person who was sent was the Dominican
monk, Brother Anselmo, who was met by the two
boys and Bernard, on the occasion when we first
made their acquaintance. Brother Anselmo was
a quiet-spoken man, making no pretensions to au-
thority or to superior knowledge; and the Count-
ess talked with him and answered his questions
freely and unsuspectingly. She knew he was a
Dominican, and she knew he had come to the
neighborhood of Viteau on purpose to talk with
her on certain religious subjects; but this did not
surprise her, as she supposed all good people were

just as much interested in these subjects as she
was; but she had no idea that he was connected
with the Inquisition at Toulouse.
Bernard, the squire, however, knew well who
he was, and it troubled him greatly to know it.
Some weeks after the Dominican had begun to
make his almost daily visits to Viteau, he came,
one day, accompanied by another monk, who did
not enter the grounds, but who remained outside
the little gate, waiting for his companion to return.
Bernard noticed the monk waiting outside, and
thinking that this unusual occurrence had some-
thing suspicious about it, he followed Brother
Anselmo when he left the chateau, and, as he
rejoined his fellow monk, the squire slipped
quietly up to the wall and listened to what they
said to each other. In this case, Bernard did not
consider that he was doing a very improper thing.
He feared that danger threatened the household
of Viteau, and that these two monks were the
persons through whom the evil would come.
Therefore, he believed that it was his duty to em-
ploy every possible means of averting this danger;
and he listened with all his ears.
What he heard was very little. The two monks
stood silent a few moments, and then the one who
had been waiting said something in a low voice,
which Bernard could not hear. To this Brother
Anselmo answered: We have done all we can.
I think it is a case for the Holy Inquisition."
And then the two walked off together.
Bernard now knew that his fears were correct.
His beloved mistress, on account of some of her
religious opinions, was in danger of being carried
a prisoner to Toulouse, there to be tried before
the officers of the Inquisition. He had no doubt
that her opinions, whatever they were, were en-
tirely correct, for he had a great respect for her
religious knowledge, and he felt sure she knew
more than the monks who came to the chateau,
but he well understood that, if she should be put
on trial, and if the doctrines she believed to be true
were found to differ, in the least point, from those
taught by the priests, she would be considered
guilty of heresy, and perhaps be put to death.
The squire went away from the wall a very sad
man. He was certain that no one at the chateau
but himself knew of the danger of its mistress, and
he felt that it rested on him to take some im-
mediatd steps to save her, if that were possible.
As he approached the house, Bernard met Ray-
mond, who was coming to take some lessons from
him in the use of the long sword. The good squire
never threw so much energy and good-will into his
lessons as he did that day.
If he has to fight for his mother," he said to
himself, I want him to fight well."

(To be continued.)






T"H -- A MM' : OF ST. P E-TR_;BR.


AT the close of the last century, a poor fisherman
named Shumarhoff lived near the mouth of the
Lena River, which flows through the cold Siberian
country and is lost in the icy waters of the Arctic
Sea. In the summer, he plied his vocation on the
sea-coast, and during the long winter lived far up
the river, where it was, perhaps, a little warmer.
It is safe to say that Shumarhoff would never have
made a great noise in the world -in fact, would

never have been heard of- had it not been for a
wonderful discovery he made while coming down
the river one spring. The river-banks of this cold
country are quite peculiar. Those on the western
side are generally low and marshy, while those on
the eastern are often from sixty to one hundred
feet in height. In the extreme north, this high
elevation is cut into numerous pyramidal-shaped
mounds, which, viewed from the sea or river, look


::.' .....':

( i~j;


exactly as if they had been built by man. In the
summer, these strange formations are free from
snow, and to a depth of ten feet are soft; but
below this they are continually frozen, and have
been for untold ages. They are formed of layers
of earth and ice-sometimes a clear stratum of
the latter many feet in thickness.
It was before such a mound that our fisherman
stopped, dumb with astonishment, one spring
morning, so many years ago. About thirty feet
above him, half-way up the face of the mound,
appeared the section of a great ice-layer, from
which the water was flowing in numberless
streams; while protruding from it, and partly
hanging over, was an animal of such huge pro-
portions that the simple fisherman could hardly
believe his eyes. Two gigantic horns or tusks
were visible, and a great woolly body was faintly
outlined in the blue, icy mass. In the fall, he
related the story to his comrades up the river,
and in the ensuing spring, with a party of his
fellow fishermen, he again visited the spot. A
year had worked wonders. The great mass had
thawed out sufficiently to show its nature, and on
closer inspection proved to be a well-preserved
specimen of one of those gigantic extinct hairy
elephants that roamed over the northern parts of
Europe and America in the earlier ages of the
world. The body was still too firmly attached and
frozen to permit of removal. For four successive
years the fishermen visited it, until finally, in
March, 1804, five years after its original discovery,
it broke away from its icy bed and came thunder-
ing down upon the sands below. The discoverers
first detached the tusks, that were nine feet six
inches in length, and together weighed three hun-
dred and sixty pounds. The hide, covered with
wool and hair, was more than twenty men could
lift. Part of this, with the tusks, were taken to
Jakutsk and sold for fifty rubles, while the rest of
the animal was left where it fell, and cut up at vari-
ous times by the Jakoutes, who fed their dogs with
its flesh. A strange feast this, truly-meat that
had been frozen solid in the ice-house of Nature
perhaps fifty thousand years,* more or less; but so
well was it preserved that, when the brain was
afterward compared with that of a recently killed
animal, no difference in the tissues could be
Two years after the animal had fallen from the
cliff, the pews reached St. Petersburg, and the
Museum of Natural History sent a scientist to
secure the specimen and purchase it for the Em-
peror. He found the mammoth where it originally
fell, but much torn by animals, especially by the
white bears and foxes. The massive skeleton,
however, was entire, with the exception of one

fore leg, while all the other bones were still held
together by the ligaments and flesh, as if the
animal had been dead only a few weeks. The
neck was still covered by a long mane of reddish
wool, and over thirty pounds more of the same
colored wool or hair were collected by the scientist
from the adjacent sand, into which it had been
trodden by bears and other animals of prey. In
this condition the mammoth, with the tusks, which
were repurchased in Jakutsk, was taken to St.
Petersburg and there mounted.
Our illustration depicts this very specimen,
representing it as it appeared when alive and
moving along with ponderous tread through the
scanty woodland of the northern countries. Its
length is twenty-six feet, including the curve of the
tusks; it stands sixteen feet high, and when alive
it probably weighed more than twice as much as the
largest living elephant. And, as some tusks have
been found over fifteen feet in length, we may
reasonably conclude that Shumarhoff's mammoth
is only an average specimen, and that many of its
companions were considerably larger.
Imagine the spectacle of a large herd of these
mighty creatures rushing along over the frozen
ground, the reverberation of their tread sounding
like thunder. When enraged, their wild, headlong
course must have been one of terrible devastation.
Large trees were but twigs to these giants of the
north, and everything must have given way before
Tusks of this animal had been discovered pre-
vious to Shumarhoffs find, and have been found
since in such great quantities that vessels go out
for the sole purpose of collecting them. Esch-
scholtz Bay, near Behring Strait, is a famous
place for them, and numbers have also been found
in England. It is stated that the fishermen of
Happisburgh have dredged up over two thousand
mammoth teeth during the past twelve years- a
fact showing that a once favorite resort, or perhaps
burying-ground, of these great creatures, is now
covered by the ocean. In the cliffs of Northern
Alaska remains of the mammoth are often seen,
and the New Siberian Islands recently visited by
the Arctic explorer, Baron Nordenskjold, are lib-
erally supplied with these, as well as remains of
other and equally interesting extinct and fossil
animals. The mammoth was so called from a
curious belief among the Siberians that this enor-
mous animal lived in caverns under the ground,
much after the fashion of the mole. Many of the
tusks and- bones were found buried in the frozen
earth, and it was the natural conclusion that the
animal lived there when alive. They believed it
could not bear the light of day; and so dug out
with its tusks great tunnels in the earth.

*According to Sir William Logan, from five hundred thousand to one million years ago.



To us the mammoth is known as the Eleihas
frimigenus, an extinct and northern cousin of
the Indian elephant of to-day. It lived above the
parallel of forty degrees in Europe, Northern Asia,
and North-western North America, during what
is known in geology as the Quaternary age. In
those days, North America presented an entirely
different appearance from the present. What are
now the coast States, from Maine to Central
America, were then nearly, if not entirely, under
water, while Florida existed, if at all, merely as a
deep coral-reef. A great arm of the sea or ocean
extended up the St. Lawrence nearly to Lake On-
tario, covering Lake Champlain and many other
Canadian lakes. The site of the present city of
Montreal was then five hundred feet under water,
and whales swam at will over what is now Lake
Champlain--a fact sufficiently proved by the dis-
covery of one sixty feet above the borders of the
present lake, and one hundred and fifty feet above
the level of the Atlantic Ocean.
The animals that lived with the mammoth in
that far-off, wonderful age were equally interesting.
In 1772, a hairy rhinoceros was found in the ice
at Wilni, Siberia, preserved in the same manner as
the Shumarhoff mammoth. England, the northern
part of Europe and Asia, and probably North

America also, were the roaming-grounds of a huge
two-horned rhinoceros, that probably waged war
with the mammoth. The streams, rivers, and
swamps were then populated with gigantic hippo-
potamuses, armed with terrible tusks, while on the
higher plains were oxen and deer, compared to
which our modern cattle are dwarfs and pigmies.
Among the tiger tribe was one now called the Mar-
chaerodus, with sharp, saber-like teeth eight or nine
inches long--one of the most formidable creatures
of this age of wonders. It waged deadly warfare
against the vast herds of wild horses that roamed
the eastern plains in those days. Besides these
were savage hyenas of great size, that traversed the
country in troops, leaving devastation in their
Other great elephants are known to the geolo-
gist: as the mastodon, specimens of which have
been unearthed at Ncwburg and Cohoes, N. Y.,
in Salem County, N. J., and in many other parts
of this country. There is also record of a great
fossil elephant, with tusks fifteen feet long, that
was excavated from the Sewalik Hills of India; but
none of these approached the hairy mammoth in
size. It is surely a fitting monument of this ancient
time, when man-if he existed at all-was but
a savage, and the earth seemingly incomplete.

--*y I. : 'I-- tL l l': i:,

L i I

,' I
-;- -, .I, I-- --

. -.,,,,,. -r. L:tle QL. as ketL- s ome :I-ens ^- le,
T*, To aee s'te ,a lls from France,
-'f;l/'.'' '| "'."i "" I i ltkeaj4ovie cameratoo to eitjoya view,
V Ar/ al-rwaTas p-ay far the d(aoe.

--- _, ,-, nIirea e fihe lls -wi\j l jeers
S- WhicL causeL their Mother an. acl Izg heari
SJ-r&a. sevea or eigtt large tears.






.-'HAT 'S this hurry, what 's this flurry,
* All throughout the house to-day?
SEverywhere a merry scurry,
S Everywhere a sound of play.
Something, too, 's the matter, matter,
Out-of-doors as well as in,
For the bell goes clatter, clatter,
Every minute-such a din!

Everybody winking, blinking,
In a queer, mysterious way;
What on earth can they be thinking,
What on earth can be to pay?
Bobby peeping o'er the stair-way,
Bursts into a little shout;
Kitty, too, is in a fair way,
Where she hides, to giggle out.

As the bell goes cling-a-ling-ing
Every minute more and more,
And swift feet go springing, springing,
Through the hall-way to the door,
Where a glimpse of box and packet,
And a little rustle, rustle,
Makes such sight and sound and racket,-
Such a jolly bustle, bustle,-
That the youngsters in their places,
Hiding slyly out of sight,
All at once show shining faces,
All at once scream with delight.

Go and ask them what 's the matter,
What the fun outside and in-
What the meaning of the clatter,
What the bustle and the din.
Hear them, hear them laugh and shout then,
All together hear them say,
Why, what have you been about, then,
Not to know it 's Christmas day?"





BY J. L. W.

THE scene here represented was a familiar spec- mirth, which was shared by those of every rank
tacle in the streets of English towns some centuries and age. The last recorded appointment of a
ago. Theyhad manyquaint
observances in those days,
as we all know, and the
one here shown resembled
much the pretty custom of
singing Christmas carols
under the windows of the X.-" .
rich, during holiday-week. -
The Soul-cake," however, r
was rather a Halloween
celebration than a Christ-
mas-tide usage. The offer-
ings of the first fruits of the J
year's harvest were called
"Soul-cakes," which the
rich gave to the poor at the
Halloween season, in return
for which the recipients ,
prayed for the souls of the
givers and their friends.
And this custom became so I' '
favored in popular esteem ~ '
that, for a long time, it was '!
a regular observance in the
country towns of England
for small companies to go
about from parish to parish
at Halloween, begging soul-
cakes by singing under the
windows some such verse as -
this: "

"Soul, soul, for a soul-cake; -
Pray you, good mistress, a soul-
cake! "
It was not unusual, too, -
in those days, for the cele-
bration of Christmas to be
kept up for weeks before
and after the actual date;
and in the great houses of
the country,-the homes of dukes and. earls,-a
"lord of misrule," or "abbot of unreason," was
appointed before the advent of Halloween, to
devise and superintend the pastimes and merry-
making of the Christmas festival. His authority
lasted from All-Hallow Eve (or Halloween) to
Candlemas Day (the 2d of February), and during
all that time the castle or manor over which he
reigned was given up to feasting, music, and

I 1. '' c-

"lord of misrule" was in 1627, and at that time
his title had changed into The Grand Captaine
of Mischieffe." No doubt he must have been the
merriest of all the revelers at Halloween, when
beginning his frolicsome reign; but perhaps he
found it harder to maintain his joy as Candlemas
Day drew near, when he would have to lay aside
his authority and resume his work-a-day duties and



Lr d :, :. go, my dear
i K .. 1 i. a little girl
ki iik n, A ew face for
h ric .. !though she
c' d r,'t know what
0 h.: was doing.
_' indeed, I oft-
S/. en see boys
re '-'- mnd girls
tracing up-
on them-
S selves lines
S' that, after
; a time, be-
'"-"'-.-- .* ~ ', .-.-,, =. come as dis-
Stinct, though
n 'ot colored,
..;. the tattoo-
.. rkings of
1 .!l, a Islanders.
In fact, you were the little
girl who was changing her face; and I have thought
that, if I wrote you what the politicians call an open
letter about it, both you and other little friends
of ST. NICHOLAS might thank me in your hearts.
You have often heard the saying that Beauty is
only skin deep "; and there is another that may be
new to you, that God makes our faces, but we
make our mouths." Now, like most proverbs, these
are truths, but they are not complete truths. But
I think I can show you how in great measure we
do make our own mouths and our own faces.
You know very well that a blacksmith's arm is
not only strong, but large, because hard work has
developed its muscles. And it is a general truth
that all muscles increase by exercise. But you do
not see how a blacksmith's arm illustrates anything
in a little girl's face ? Let us "make haste slowly,"
as the wise old Romans used to say, and then my
meaning may be clearer.
What does our skin, so soft and smooth in child-
hood, and often so harsh and wrinkled in old age,
cover? You say, flesh? Yes. And some other
little girl adds, fat? Very well. And the boy who
is studying physiology adds, nerves and tendons?
True. And then you all know that bones support
the human structure--are. the frame--just as the
beams and timbers of a wooden house, or of a ship,
are its frame. But what is flesh ? Is it merely so
much softer fabric thrown over and fastened to the
bones in a thick sheet, like the soft seat on the
hard frame of your parlor sofa? Not at all. The

flesh is separated into several hundred divisions, or
little bundles, called muscles.
Muscles and flesh are different names for the
same thing, just as the bricks and the wall of a
house, or the stones and the pavement of a street,
are the same. Only the muscles, unlike the bricks
and stones, are all changeable as to size within cer-
tain limits; for each muscle is attached to the
bone beneath it by the tough, inelastic tendon.
Now, you know the bones can neither bend nor
change their length. But how, for example, does
your hand reach your mouth when you eat?
Because your arm is jointed, and some large mus-
cles are fastened by one end to its upper part, near
the shoulder, and by the other end below the elbow.
The muscles contract, which, as your Latin reminds
you, means "draw together," and thus grow shorter,
and by means of the elbow-joint the lower part of
the arm (for the bone can not shorten) is carried
around and toward the shoulder or the face, as the
case may be. But, becoming shorter, the muscles
must become thicker, just as, when a stretched
piece of India-rubber contracts, you see it grow
thicker and stouter as it grows shorter. By putting
your hand upon it, you can feel the muscle of your
arm swell as it does its work. But you already
know that continuous and forcible exercise causes
the arm-that is, its muscles-to grow much more
marked and bulky. Let us stop a moment to see
exactly what muscle means. Your Latin dictionary
will tell you, if you don't already know, that mus
means mouse, and musculus a little mouse. The
old anatomists who began to pry into Nature's
secrets were impressed with the mouse-like outline
of these tissues when contracted, and so called them
little mice-muscles. So all our flesh is muscle, and
it is these little mice running under the skin that
are the tell-tales of what is going on or has been
Now your dear, soft face has its many muscles,
too, much finer and more delicate than those of
the body, by the exercise of which you express the
emotions you feel. It would take too long to ex-
plain how or why certain of them respond to and
illustrate certain feelings, and for the present you
must accept it as a fact. Now, the secret of our
first proverb lies in the further fact that around
the mouth is one of the few muscles in the body
that is not attached to bone. It is a muscular
ring, to which other muscles are fastened, and
moves in whatever direction it may be influenced,
retaining the set and fashion into which it may be




drawn. And as the bony parts of the face, the
nose, the forehead, the cheek-bones, the jaws, the
whole fixed contour, are what we have inherited,
we can not of ourselves make much alteration in
them. So, also, we inherit our mouth; but this, as
well as a part of the surface of the countenance,
we can, and often do, materially alter; and it is to
these alterations,-this making of faces,-that we
all, old and young, should give heed.
I will not tire you, my darling, by going into
those details which belong to a study that is be-
yond your years, but I want you to remember that
those who are peevish and knit their eyebrows
and wrinkle their foreheads -cloud their brows, it
is called-do so only by the operation of little
muscles, that work more easily and grow a very
little every time they are so employed. There
are a set of snarling muscles that draw up the cor-

ners of the mouth and expose the canine teeth,
which, in the savage flesh-eaters of the forest and
jungle, are coarse and strong, and always at work,
and which, I am sorry to say, are sometimes too
well marked in boys and men. There is a little, but
mischievous muscle, called superbus (which does
not mean "superb," but "proud"), that, with a
human helper, draws down and pouts out the proud
and sullen lower lip. But, regardless of names,
what I want you to particularly bear in mind is,
that as every expression the features can assume
becomes easier the oftener it is repeated, so the lit-
tle mice run away with beauty and goodness of face
when these expressions are unkind; and, in like
manner, they are fairy messengers, bringing pleas-
ant gifts for both present and future use, when the
face becomes the mask of a good and willing heart.
Your affectionate UNCLE ALFRED.


,) JO-VWER- I ?- LEAS T-


]F-'T A5- O L/y-T-RIFLE

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THE boys and girls of ST. NICHOLAS will per-
haps be a little surprised to hear that there are
civilized and enlightened people in the far north of
our American continent who, during the winter
season, make constant use of the dog as a beast
of burden.
The officers of the powerful Hudson's Bay Com-
pany, whose trading-posts are scattered through
the Dominion of Canada, from the Atlantic to the
Pacific, and away north to the banks of the noble
Yukon, find it necessary to utilize the dog for
purposes of traveling and transportation through
sections of country where proper food can not be
found for horses and cattle.
The dog is capable, also, of enduring a very low
temperature and of thriving under harsh treat-
ment. It is the habit of these hardy creatures,
during a respite from drawing their heavily loaded
sledges, to lie huddled together in their harness
and allow the falling and drifting snow to hide
them from sight, save where their black noses pro-
trude for the purpose of obtaining air. With the
Canadian Indian the dog takes the place of the
horse, drawing the wood in winter, and bringing
to the wigwam the spoils of the hunt. And, where
farming has been attempted in a rude way by the
red man, he uses his train of dogs for plowing the
land for his little patch of potatoes.

As you boys have your toy steam-boats and cars,
and while playing with them think that, when you
are men, you will own real cars and boats, so the
little Indian boy has his toy flat-sled, and no doubt
thinks with longing of the days when he, a full-
grown brave, will come striding back from the
moose-hunt on his snow-shoes, followed by the
panting train, drawing the carcass of the antlered
king of the forest.
The manner of harnessing and driving dogs is
interesting. The harness is usually made of
moose-skin or buffalo leather, and is often lavishly
decorated. The collar, which is not unlike our
common horse-collar, is perfectly round, and is
slipped over the dog's head, fitting snugly at the
shoulders; the traces are attached to this collar,
and, passing through loops in the bead-worked sad-
dle-cloth, are fastened to the sledge. Four dogs
usually comprise a train, and are driven tan-
dem." Great care is taken in selecting and train-
ing a leader; he must be quick, intelligent, strong,
and ready to answer and obey the "chaw" and
"yed" (" right" and "left") of his driver.
The sledges for winter travel are of three kinds:
the plain, flat sled (which is for freight), and the
carriole and Berlin, for passengers. The flat sled is
constructed of two or three long, thin boards, turned
up at the front exactly as were the old-fashioned
skates of our fathers, and bound together with raw-
hide thongs. The carriole, which might be termed
the palace-car of the dog-train, is framed over and
covered with dressed skins. The Berlin is a pleas-
ure-sleigh, with rawhide sides.
Having given you an outline of the make-up
and appearance of a dog-train, let me now ask
that one of the boys (a brave boy he must be)
accompany me on a journey of a few hundred
miles through the wilderness, our only conveyance
being flat sleighs and carrioles drawn by bushy-
tailed and sharp-eared dogs. We will imagine
ourselves, in the dead of winter, at Norway House,
an important post or fort of the Hudson's Bay
Trading Company, which is situated north of the
head of that inland sea, Lake Winnipeg, and
nearly four hundred miles from civilization; also
that we are (as we most likely should be, in such
a situation) very homesick, and wishing ourselves
again by the shores of the grand old Atlantic. You
say, my dear boy, you do not care to be dragged
four hundred miles by dogs over a frozen lake,
with no shelter at night, and the companionship



only of the bears and wolves near the coast. But,
never fear- it is our only way of exit from this land
of ice and snow. So come with me to the dog-yard,
while Mouiseau, our French half-breed guide, se-
lects the animals which are to form our trains. We
find a large inclosure with high, wooden walls,
which are, at the base and for some distance up-
ward, plated with sheet-iron to prevent the restless
animals from gnawing their way out of prison.
This yard, or prison-house, is filled with a great
variety of dogs, from the stately fellow who plainly
shows the blood of the Scotch greyhound, to the
miserable little Indian dog, who has been allowed
lodgings inside the stockade, while his red master
is bartering furs inside the fort.
Mouiseau at last selects his dogs-not the largest
in the yard, but from the medium-sized animals,
on account of their greater powers of endur-
ance. We are to have twelve dogs, making
three trains of four dogs each. The selection is
again carefully examined, collars are fitted, and the

to the food-supply, and places on the baggage-
sledge a bag of pemmican (pounded buffalo-meat),
a bag of"bannocks (wheat-cakes made by Hector,
the Scotch cook, who hails from the island of
Lewis), several large pieces of fat pork, and a little
box containing compressed potatoes.
Mouiseau calls us to look at our sleighs, packed
as only an old traveler can pack, with snow-
shoes, rifles, and cooking utensils lashed on the
outside. All is now ready, and at break of day
w? shall be off amid the cheers and shouts of the
employs, to whom the arrival and departure of
guests is a matter of no small moment. Were it
an arrival, the ensign of the corporation, with its
"elk rampant" and curious motto "Pro pelle
cutem" (" skin for skin "), would be at the top of
the tall staff outside the walls of the fort.
Morning comes, and after numerous hand-shak-
ings we sit in our carrioles, and are carefully
wrapped by our attentive drivers, while the dogs
are whining and barking in impatience to be off.
The word is given: Marsh anne mush (" Go
ilnn', don! "I the f.lhips crqrc, nnd "'e clide rdn'"n
h, .. I.. tL. ,,a [ ,A,!" 0[,.: i : .-.1 .- -i1,, : !'.r ,

xl ," k~~m,, _: _i:u -. h all: .-.Il 2 r t- !,

dogs are placed in another yard near by, ready for
to-morrow, the day of our departure. We must
look now to our personal outfit, bearing in mind
that our baggage must be light; two pairs of
wool blankets each, two buffalo robes, an oil- tops of which are dotted with clumps of small jack-
skin blanket, and two pillows complete our outfit. pine and spruce. We fly swiftly along, passing
Mouiseau, with his two Indian drivers, attends a few houses with mud chimneys and parchment

.II ~ ,~
I .1.;


ee r sc r.: .t.. d1-. I I I. tlt'. r le: i s r di- bi l.t-
vctrai- p .ra .* i:i i.' :. ir9ll r -i
tra, .:I. o\V : :iA i::r .::r[ hir i A I. u11l Inli .
d srtii: a. fir a n p. r p:li > i" s. i :rupr ofr tea nd t-hli r,: i
er].:1iA]ilt,- i plac':e i I .- :I': 1, 1 irir.-i lit. T lI.i: i-
P'-ia wr:,r Lr.k L .'*i, ., ,d-r.nI, ," l'.ha ,:,ir1 .:t
of Lik- \Virrj.. Altir ar .L.iii- tr I
m .i k, ar.:.tlI.-r p ,rt -.-:.1 l '.l. :.- t.:il.-. i for
the ptip.-,f. ;i' a. ,:.iK i'10 ih.i :.lpC, '. o ip, .ir rjlt !inI -
mediate outlet of the lake. We are now twenty-
five miles from Norway House; and have been four
hours on the road. Truly, our little dogs do bravely.
We stop for a few minutes, while one of our Indians
builds a fire and prepares a cup of tea; and then,
our lunch over, the drivers take their places at the
back of the sleighs, steadying and steering them
through the narrow wood track by the use of a
rope called a sail-line. We suddenly speed down
a steep bank, and there before us is Lake Winni-
peg, that immense receiving basin, which takes
to itself on the south the mighty, rushing Win-
nipeg: and the' steady-flowing and silent stream
which comes dashing through the rich prairie-
lands of Dakota, Minnesota, and Manitoba, in
its search for the sea, and known to us as the
Red River of the North; while in the north-
west the melting snows of the Rocky Mountains,
after a swift journey through the valley of the
Saskatchewan, find a few hours' rest and then go
tumbling down the Nelson to Hudson's Bay. On

the right is the site of an old fort, where many
years ago a bloody battle was fought between
two powerful trading companies. Before us is
Montreal Point, for which place we now take a
direct course, our guide running before, in a steady,
swinging trot peculiar to Indian runners, while
our dogs follow in good form. At intervals we
drop into a light slumber, to be suddenly awak-
ened by the loud crack of a loaded whip and the
responsive cry of a lazy dog. As the sun is setting
in the west, going down into the apparently bound-
less lake, we halt on the edge of a huge drift,
near the shore, which is at this point dotted with
thickets of spruce and balsam, and get out of our
carrioles stiffly enough after our long journey.
The sleds are drawn into the timber, and our
little party go at the work of clearing with snow-
shoes a place for the camp. This accomplished, the
fire is built, green boughs are laid for our beds,
blankets and robes are brought forth; and while

The term portage signifies a crossing or carrying place between two bodies of water. For instance: On a certain route where canoes
are used, there are a series of lakes separated from one another by narrow strips of land. We pass through lake No. i, in the direction
of lake No. 2, searching for the narrowest strip separating them; a road is cut through the forest, over which the sturdy Indians carry
the canoes and baggage, and launching their craft push on for No. 3. On much-frequented canoe routes these carrying-places have
fine, wide roads, and bear suggestive titles, as Turtle Portage," Mossy Portage," etc. In winter these roads are used by travelers in
order to pass from one frozen lake to another.
fThis battle appears to have taken place near the close of a terrific strife for the control of the rich fur trade of the North-west, which
raged between the North-west Trading Company, with head-quarters at Montreal, and the Hudson's Bay Company, of London, England,
the termination being the joining of the rivals under the title of the latter company.



we stretch ourselves lazily before the bright fire preparatory to a continuation of our journey. A
of tamarack, our guide prepares supper, and his light breakfast dispatched, our dogs are placed in
assistants unharness the dogs and prepare their harness, we take seats in the carrioles, and are
meal of fresh white-fish. As we recline in perfect
comfort, a shrike or butcher-bird, the first life we
have seen in the woods to-day, hops from the
bough above us, and helps itself from the pemmi-
can-bag; then flies saucily over our heads toward
his cache, to return in a few moments for more.
The shrike is truly a camp-bird, and on discovering
the smoke from some newly built camp-fire, as it
curls upward through the trees, does not rest till
it has reached the camp and sampled the cookery.
The Indian seldom molests this arch thief, but
laughs quietly at its saucy chatter, having a belief
that, in days past, Wah-se-i-ka-chak, as he calls
it, has been in some way of service to his people.
After a hearty supper of pemmican, potato, and
bannock, we sit and listen to the monotonous tones
of the Indians, who are recounting journeys to
different parts of the far-north country, while they
smoke their tiny stone pipes, filled with a mixture
of willow bark and tobacco. Our twelve dogs are
grouped on the. solid drift, near the shore. The
largest dog occupies the most elevated part of the
bank, the place of honor, while the others sit
solidly on their haunches and gaze steadily at their
leader, who is now the picture of profundity, with
a far-off, dreamy look in his eyes which his fellows
are making a vain attempt to imitate. The moon
is coming up now, and as it softly rises, causing
the frost-covered trees to glisten in its light, the
leader utters a plaintive wail, which is taken up by
his companions, softly at first; then the leader gives
forth a louder cry, another, and soon the whole
pack there in the weird light are howling in fearful
discord. .Suddenly the leader ceases, and gradu-
ally the others become quiet, and curl themselves
about the fire. The Indians soon are snoring in
heavy sleep, the fire burns low, the trees crackle
with frost, we hear a commingling of sounds, and,
at last, sleep too.
We rest. comfortably, with nothing above our
heads save the beautiful dome of heaven, with its
twinkling stars, which are dimmed at times by the
magnificent and ever-changing aurora, which here
reaches its greatest brilliancy. The Indians call
this electric phenomenon Wah-wah-tao, and fancy
it to be the spirits of the departed dancing on
the borders of the Land of the Hereafter. While
it is yet dark our drivers arise, with sundry grunts
and remarks in Indian language relative to the
probable weather and winds of the coming day; THE GIANT OF LAKE WINNIPEG.
and soon a large fire, crackling and sending sparks
over our heads without regard to consequences, away with speed through the gray light of dawn.
is the alarm which brings us quickly from our snug After an hour's run, the sun comes up--a golden
beds. We now assist in packing our baggage ball seen through the stunted and storm-beaten


,[ IA



pines that find footing on the lichen-covered rocks
of the shore. We sit up in our sleighs to enjoy
the fresh, clear air, and, looking to the right, we
discover land where, a few moments before, there
was none to be seen. Our look of surprise is
answered by one of the Indians, who, running
alongside the sleigh, shouts: "Statim Minis!"
(The Horse Islands !) It is a grand mirage, for
the Statim Minis are islands at least seventy miles
We fly along, our guides shouting alternately at
the dogs and each other, apparently in the best of
humor, now and again favoring us with snatches
of Canadian boat-songs, no doubt caught up from
the hardy i ... ,:1.ii who go west in charge of
bateaux from the banks of the rushing tributaries
of the lower St. Lawrence.
At sunset we arrive at a large Indian village, the
entire population turning out to welcome us. This
is a village of the Poplar River band, the wildest
of the Lake Winnipeg Indians. During our halt
of a few minutes, the old chief with his council
appear, and have a few words with our men, while
we must show our good and friendly feeling by
presents of tobacco, clay pipes, etc. As we move
away, our good-byes are answered by shouts of
" Marchon, How marchon (" Good speed ")
At dusk of evening we camp a few miles south

of Poplar River, going through the same proced-
ure as on the evening of the first camp. At two
o'clock in the morning of the next day, while the
clear moon is slowly going down in the west, we are
slipping along a hard-beaten hunters' track which
runs across the bay. During the day we skirt a
rough, rocky shore which lies to the left, and get
glimpses of numerous islands on our right. In the
earlyeveningwe arrive at Behrin's River Fort, a post
of the trading company, where we are hospitably
received by the officer in charge. We find in use
at this place the St. Bernard dogs, very large and
strong. Old travelers, however, will tell you that
for long journeys, such as ours, the smaller dogs
are preferable. It is not late, so let us accept the
kind invitation of our host, and visit the trading-
rooms of the fort. We follow him through a
narrow passage, on one side of which is a short
counter and at the end a heavy door, so built as to
guard against surprise from hostile Indians, which,
being swung back, admits us to the stores of Indian '
supplies-blankets, shirts, belts, and much-beaded
moccasins; while hanging from smoke -stained
beams are flint-lock guns of the Queen Anne "
pattern, axes, knives, and copper kettles. There
is no money used in the trade of this far-away
country; the beaver skin is recognized as the
standard, and represents about five shillings ster-



i I.
I ~



ling. We are somewhat amused, on asking the
price of a pair of blankets, to get the reply, "Eight
skins." Our guide leads us up a narrow stair to the
fur-room, which has large beams and cross-tim-
bers, hanging closely on which are all the varieties
of northern furs-bear, wolf, beaver, fox, and mar-
ten, with lynx, fisher, and ermine. In the month
of June these furs are packed, and begin their
journey to London by the way of the Norway
House to York Factory on Hudson's Bay, where a
steamer calls, in August or September, and takes
the valuable bales on board for delivery in London.
But we can not always stay in this land of bear
and beaver, and when morning comes, after thank-
ing Mr. Flett, our kind host, for his care and atten-
tion, we again move out on the lake, and, jogging
along steadily, arrive at the narrows of Lake
Winnipeg, called by the Indians Anne Mustuk-
won," or "Dog's Head." The lake at this point is
but one and one-half miles in width, the shores of
the east side being of hard, dark granite, while
those of the westerly side are formed of high cliffs
of lime and sandstone.
A story is told of a party such as ours being lost
in a severe snow-storm near this point. The guides
not being able to decide on which shore of the
lake they had strayed, one of the gentlemen of the



SIA'N i'S-G -.TH -
'V j- -

4 R-


party bethought himself of this difference in the
formation of the rock, and, digging through the
drift, at once solved the question. Our camp is
made here, and in the morning we are off at full
speed, passing during the forenoon Indian people
fishing through holes in the ice, and bringing to
the surface in their heavy nets beautiful white-
* fish. We pass Bull's Head, run through the Loon
Straits, leave Grindstone Point on our right, and
at night camp at the southern end of Red Deer
Island. The camp to-night is in the enchanted
country, and lying to the south-east is an island in
. which during summer, at break of dawn (according
to our guide Mouiseau), the high wall of sandstone
rock opens, and a giant, dragging after him a huge
stone canoe, strides to the water's edge, launches
his stony craft and pushes out into the broad lake,
to return unseen for his voyage of the following
morning. In passing this island it is customary to
leave fragments of tobacco, and tea-leaves, as a
peace-offering to the Phantom Giant of the Cliff.
We are now but seventy miles from the track
of the iron horse, and with extra exertion may on
the morrow finish our journey. We are called

%ood e

cIood Jy e *[ '

very early, to find a bright fire and breakfast ready.
It is apparent that our men mean to distinguish
themselves as runners to-day. Great care is taken
in the lacing of moccasins and fixing belts and
leggings; the harness is carefully examined, and, all
being in readiness, we dash down the steep bank
and out upon the lake, over which we glide along,
unable at times to distinguish land on either side.
As the sun is low in the west, we run through a
narrow, ice-bound channel, bordered on either side
with tall, yellow reeds and rushes. Shortly after
getting into this channel our half-breed guide,
who is running swiftly before, turns and shouts,
"Riviere Rouge (Red River).
And here our journey is virtually at an end,
as in a few hours we arrive at a station of the
Canadian Pacific Railway, where we secure pas-
sage, and, after bidding farewell to our brave com-
panions, who, strange to say, have become dear to
us after a week's companionship, we roll away
eastward, and passing through the cities of Winni-
peg in Manitoba, St. Paul, Minnesota, and ever-
busy Chicago, in the short space of three days
we arrive at our homes on the Atlantic sea-board.

... '





BY M. M. D.

HEIGHO! I 've left my B O, bo,
And A B, ab-oh, long ago!
And gone to letters three.
(Dear me! What does that last word spell-
The last I learned,? I knew it well--
It's W and E and B.)

You see, I 've so much work to do-
Scrubbing and sweeping, dusting too-
I can't remember half I know.
And oh! the spiders drive me wild,
Till Mother says: "What ails the child?
What makes her fidget so?"/
(Now, sakes alive What can it be -
That W and E and B?)

Right after school is out, I run
To do my work. It 's never done,
But soon as any lesson's said
It goes and pops right ott my head-
All on account of dust and dirt.
No matter how my hands may hurt,
I sweep and toil the livelong day,
And try to brush the things away.
(It's all the spiders- don't you see?)
And yet I 'm glad I 've learned to spell.
(What is that word? I knew it well -
That W and E and B !)



WHO ever heard of catching whales with a net,
or of eating whale's meat? Yet both are done by
Japanese sailors.
The whale-fishery of Japan is carried on as a
regular business on both coasts of the country; but
more men are employed, and the catch of whales
is larger, off the eastern coast, especially off Kii
province. -A line drawn southward from Kioto,
Lake Biwa, or Ozaka, will cut the Kii whaling-
waters, and help one to find it on the map.

The great Gulf Stream of the Pacific, which the
Japanese call the Kuro Shiwo, or Dark Current, on
account of its deep blue color, rushes up from the
south, and scours the Kii promontory like a mill-
sluice. It is so sharply distinguishable from com-
mon sea-water that from the prow of a ship one
can discern the line that divides the two colors.
The starboard may be in the pale-green or sky-
blue, while the larboard lies in the indigo or inky
part. A bucket of water taken up from one side


will be twelve or fourteen degrees colder than one
dipped simultaneously from over the opposite gun-
wale. The Kuro Shiwo is really a river flowing
in the ocean. It lies upon, but does not mix with,
the sea. Rising in the tropics, below Formosa,

whalemen are divided into scullers, netters, and
harpooners, or grappling-iron men. Japanese
never row, but scull with curiously bent long
sweeps, which swing on a half-round knob set into
a pivot, the handle end being usually strapped at


and flowing up and across the Pacific, it bends
around Alaska to California, and then crosses to
the Sandwich Islands. A plank set floating off
Formosa will travel in a few weeks to Honolulu,
if not picked up.
The whales seem to enjoy the dark current as
a promenade or ocean avenue; but at certain
promontories, like that of Kii, they come quite
near the shore, or swim around into the eddies, for
recreation or for food.
The fishermen of the little town of Koza have a
lookout-tower perched upon the rocks, far up on
the hill-side. A sentinel is kept constantly watch-
ing for the spouting kuijiri ("number-one fish"), as
the natives,call the whale. Long boats, holding
from four to ten men, are kept ready launched.
These hardy fellows row with tremendous energy,
as if in a prize race. If the whales are numerous,
the men wait in their boats, with sculls on their
pins and straps ready to slip on at a moment's
notice, all in order to put out to sea. A gay flag
with a curious device floats at each stern. The

the proper height. The device on each flag is
different, and spears, nets, and grappling-irons are
marked, so that the most skillful get proper credit
for their courage, sure aim, and celerity.
The boatmen are lightly clad in short, sleeveless
cotton jackets, with leggings, like greaves, reaching
from knee to ankle. Around their waists are kilts
made of coarse rice-straw. The nets, which are
about twenty feet square, with meshes three feet
wide, are made of tough sea-grass rope, two inches
Twenty or thirty of these nets are provided, and
then lightly tied together, so as to make one huge
net, from four hundred. to six hundred feet long.
As soon as the signal from the tower is given, the
boats put out, two by two, each pair of the larger
boats having the net tackle, and all armed with
darts and spears. Rowing in front of the whale,
the net is dropped in his path. If skillfully done,
the huge fish runs his nose or jaw into a mesh. He
at once dives, and tries to shake off the net. This
he can not do, for the square in which he is en-




tangled immediately breaks off from the rest,
which is hauled on board, ready for another drop.
Should this also be successful, the game is soon
up with the whale. Usually, the more he flounders,
the more tightly his terrible collars hold him,
entangling his fins and quickly exhausting his
strength. No sooner does he rise for breath than
the rowers dash close to him, giving the harpoon-
ers an opportunity to hurl their darts at his big
body, until he looks like an exaggerated pin-
cushion. As his struggles become weaker, the
grappling-irons are thrown on and the boats tow
the carcass near shore.
The whalemen carefully avoid the enraged
animal's tail, and it is only occasionally that one
of them is killed. In a good season, fifty whales
will be taken. This method of whale-hunting was
first practiced about the year 168o. When nets
are not used, as in some places, the number of
boats must be increased, and they must be smaller,
so as to admit of rapid movements, and a good
supply of harpoons must be on hand.

is the jolliest part of the work, as the casting of
the net is the most exciting.
The whale is now cut up into chunks. Its tidbits
go on the fisherman's gridiron, or are pickled,
boiled, roasted, or fried. Japanese whales are
caught more for food than for oil, and are leaner
than their brethren of the Arctic seas. Some oil
is, however, tried out from the blubber. Even
the bones, when fresh and tender, are eaten. Of
the others they make ropes, springs, and steel-
yards for weighing gold and silver. Nothing
seems to be thrown away, except the shoulder-bone.
The ordinary dry-goods measure of Japan is
called a whale-foot," and is two inches longer
than the "metal-foot" with which wood and stone
are measured. The origin of this difference, ac-
cording to legend, is as follows: Long ago, a great
white whale, the king of the northern seas, having
heard of the fame and great size of the bronze image
of Buddha at Kamakura, went in high dudgeon and
compared his length with that of Dai Butsu, the
statue. Greatly to his relief, the image was found


To land their prize, the successful hunters lash
about it stout straw ropes, and attach to them a
cable, winding the other end around a windlass
set up on the beach. Then, with gay and lively
songs, they haul the enormous mass ashore. This

to be two inches shorter than his spouting majesty,
who thereupon whisked his tail in triumph and
returned home. Hence the whale-foot" is two
inches longer than the "metal-foot," as every
Japanese boy knows.




A IS for Apt little Annie,
Who lives down in Maine with her grannie.
Such pies she can make!
And such doughnuts and cake!
Oh, we like to make visits to Grannie!

,-^- ^ "
4. .-

Who lives on rice, oatmeal, and barley.
He once wrote a sonnet
On his mother's best bonnet;
And he lets his hair grow long and snarley.

B is for Bad little Bridget,
Who is morn, noon, and night in a fidget.
Her dresses she tears,
And she tumbles down-stairs,
And her mother's most worn to a midget.

j ,; -- "' ': ,1 "'."^/

D is for Dear little Dinah,
Whose manners' grow finer and finer.
She smiles and she bows
To the pigs and the cows,
And she calls the old cat Angelina.



I' !

E is for Erring young Edward,
Who never can bear to go bedward.
Every evening at eight
He bewails his hard fate,
And they 're all quite- discouraged with

G is for Glad little Gustave,
Who says that a monkey he must have;
But his mother thinks not,
And says that they 've got
All the monkey they care for in Gustave.
VOL. X.-8.

F is for Foolish Miss Florence,
Who of spiders has such an abhorrence
That she shivers with dread
When she looks overhead,
For she lives where they 're plenty-at

H is for Horrid young Hannah,
Who has the most shocking bad manner.
Once she went out to dine
With a party of nine,
And she ate every single banana.





I is for Ignorant Ida,
Who does n't know rhubarb from cider.
Once she drank up a quart,
Which was more than she ought,
And it gave her queer feelings inside her.

K is for Kind little: Katy,
Who weighs 'most a hundred and eIghty,
But she eats every day,
And the doctors all,say
That's the reason she's growing so weighty.

J is for Jovial young Jack,
Who goes to the balls in a hack.
He thinks he can dance,
And he '11 caper and prance
Till his joints are half ready to crack.

L is for Lazy young Leicester,
Who works for a grocer in Chester;
But he says he needs rest,
And he finds it is best,
To take every day a siesta.




M is for Mournful Miss Molly,
Who likes to be thought melancholy.
She 's as limp as a rag
When her sisters play tag,
For it's vulgar, she says, to be jolly.

0 's Operatic Olivia,
Who visits her aunt in Bolivia.
She can sing to high C -
But, between you and me,
They don't care for that in Bolivia.

N is for Naughty young Nat,
Who sat on his father's best hat.
When they asked if he thought
He had done as he ought,
He said he supposed 't was the cat!

P is for Poor little Paul,
Who does n't like study at all.
But he 's learning to speak
In Hebrew and Greek,
And is going to take Sanskrit next fall.


Q is for Queer little Queen,
Who 's grown so excessively lean
That she fell in a crack,
And hurt her poor back,
And they say she can hardly be seen.

~p --
-~ ~ I.- __

S is for Stylish young Sadie,
Whose hat is so big and so shady
That she thought it was night
When the sun was out bright,
And mistook an old cow for a lady.

R is for Rude Master Ruby,
Who once called his sister a booby!
But a boy who stood by
Heard her piteous cry,
And came and chastised Master Ruby.


T is for Turbulent Teddy,
Who never can learn to be steady.
He'll skip and he'll hop,
And turn 'round like a top,
And he 's broken his leg twice already.



C- =

U is Unhappy Ulrica,
Who takes her tea weaker and
She sits in the dust
And eats nothing but crust,
And Moses, they say, was n't

V is for Valiant young Vivian,
Who practiced- awhile in obli-
Till he saw, without doubt,
He could turn inside out,
And now they 're all boasting
of Vivian.

W is Wise little Willie,
Who lives where the weather
is chilly;
But he skates and he slides,
And takes lots of sleigh-rides,
And he coasts on his sled where
it 's hilly.

X, Y, Z-each is a baby
Who is going to be wonderful,

For their mothers all say
To themselves every day,
That there never was quite such a baby.




THERE was once a kingdom in which everything
seemed to go wrong. Everybody knew this, and
everybody talked about it, especially the King.
The bad state of affairs troubled him more than it
did any one else, but he could think of no way to
make them better.
"I can not bear to see things going on so
badly," he said to the Queen and his chief
councilors. I wish I knew how other kingdoms
were governed."
One of his councilors offered to go to some
other countries, and see how they were governed,
and come back and tell him all about it, but this
did not suit his majesty.
"You would simply come back," he said, "and
give me your ideas about things. I want my own
The Queen then suggested that he should take
a vacation, and visit other kingdoms, and see for
himself how things were managed in them.
This did not suit the King. "A vacation would
not answer," he said. "I should not be gone a
week before something would happen here which
would make it necessary to come back."
The Queen then suggested that he be banished
for a certain time, say a year. In that case he
could not come back, and would be at full liberty
to visit foreign kingdoms, and find out how they
were governed.
This idea pleased the King. "If it were made
impossible for me to come back," he said, of
course I could not do it. The plan is a good one.
Let me be banished." And he gave orders that
his council should pass a law banishing him for
one year.
Preparations were immediately begun to carry
out this plan, and in a day or two the King took
leave of the Queen, and left his kingdom, a ban-
ished man. He went away on foot, entirely unat-
tended. But, as he did not wish to cut off all
communication between himself and his kingdom,
he devised a plan which he thought a very good
one. At easy shouting distance behind him
walked one of the officers of the court, and at
shouting distance behind him walked another, and
so on at distances of about a hundred yards from
each other. In this way there would always be a
line of men extending from the King to his palace.
Whenever the King had walked a hundred yards
the line moved on after him, and another officer
was put in the gap between the last man and the

palace door. Thus, as the King walked on, his
line of followers lengthened, and was never broken.
Whenever he had any message to send to the
Queen, or any other person in the palace, he
shouted it to the officer next him, who shouted
it to the one next to him, and it was so passed
on until it reached the palace. If he needed
food, clothes, or any other necessary thing, the
order for it was shouted along the line, and the
article was passed to him from man to man, each
one carrying it forward to his neighbor, and then
retiring to his proper place.
In this way the King walked on day by day
until he had passed entirely out of his own king-
dom. At night he stopped at some convenient
house on the road, and if any of his followers did
not find himself near a house or cottage when the
King shouted back the order to halt, he just laid
himself down to sleep wherever he might be. By
this time the increasing line of followers had used
up all the officers of the court, and it became
necessary to draw upon some of the under-govern-
ment officers in order to keep the line perfect.
The King had not gone very far outside the
limits of his dominions when he met a Sphinx.
He had often heard of these creatures, although
he had never seen one before. But when he saw
the winged body of a lion with a woman's head, he
knew instantly what it was. He knew, also, that
the chief business of a Sphinx was supposed to be
that of asking people questions, and then getting
them into trouble if the right answers were not
given. He therefore determined that he would
not be caught by any such tricks as these, and that
he would be on his guard if the Sphinx spoke to
him. The creature was lying down when the King
first saw it, but when he approached nearer it rose
to its feet. There was n. lhinr savage about its
look, and the King was not at all afraid.
"Where are you going?" said the Sphinx to
him, in a pleasant voice.
Give it up," replied the King.
"What do you mean by that?" said the other,
looking surprised.
I give that up, too," said the King.
The Sphinx then looked at him quite aston-
"I don't mind telling you," said the King, "of
my own free-will, and not in answer to any
questions, that I do not know where I am going.
I am a king, as you may have noticed, and I



have been banished from my kingdom for a year.
I am now going to look into the government of
other countries in order that I may find out what
it is that is wrong in my own kingdom. Every-
thing goes badly, and there is something wrong at

S__%- ....


the bottom of it all. What this is I want to dis-
I am much interested in puzzles and matters
of that kind," said the Sphinx, "and if you like I
will go with you and help to find out what is wrong
in your kingdom."
All right," said the King. I shall be glad
of your company."
"What is the meaning of this long line of
people following you at regular distances ?" asked
the Sphinx.
"Give it up," said the King.
The Sphinx laughed.
I don't mind telling you," said the King, of
my own free-will, and not in answer to any ques-
tion, that these men form a line of communication
between me and my kingdom, where things, I fear,
must be going on worse than ever, in my absence."
The two now traveled on together until they
came to a high hill, from which they could see, not
very far away, a large city.
"That city," said the Sphinx, "is the capital of
an extensive country. It is governed by a king of
mingled sentiments. Suppose we go there. I think
you will find a government that is rather peculiar."

The King consented, and they walked down the
hill toward the city.
How did the King get his sentiments mingled ?"
asked the King.
"I really don't know how it began," said the
Sphinx, "but the King,
when a young man, had so
many sentiments of differ-
ent kinds, and he mingled
them up so much, that
no one could ever tell ex-
s actly what he thought on
any particular subject. Of
course, his people gradu-
ally got into the same frame
of mind, and you never
can know in this kingdom
.. exactly what people think
S- or what they are going to
: do. You will find all sorts
of people here: giants,
S dwarfs, fairies, gnomes,
and personages of that
S kind, who have been drawn
here by the mingled sen-
timents of the people. I,
myself, came into these
parts because the people
Every now and then take
a great fancy to puzzles
PLEASANT VOICE." and riddles."
On entering the city,
the King was cordially welcomed by his brother
sovereign, to whom he told his story; and he
was lodged in a room in the palace. Such of his
followers as came within the limits of the city were
entertained by the persons near to whose houses
they found themselves when the line halted.
Every day the Sphinx went with him to see the
sights of this strange city. They took long walks
through the streets, and sometimes into the sur-
rounding country--always going one way and
returning another, the Sphinx being very careful
never to bring the King back by the same road or
street by which they went. In this way the King's
line of followers, which, of course, lengthened out
every time he took a walk, came to be arranged in
long loops through many parts of the city and
Many of the things the King saw showed
plainly the mingled sentiments of the people. For
instance, he would one day visit a great smith's-
shop, where heavy masses of iron were being
forged, the whole place resounding with tremen-
dous blows from heavy hammers, and the clank
and din of iron on the anvils; while the next day
he would find the place transformed into a studio.




where the former blacksmith was painting dainty
little pictures on the delicate surface of egg-shells.
The King of the coufitry, in his treatment of his
visitor, showed his peculiar nature very plainly.
Sometimes he would receive him with enthusiastic
delight, while at others he would upbraid him
with having left his dominions to go wandering
around the earth this way.
One 'day, our King was sitting rather disconso-
lately in the garden of the palace. His host had
invited him to attend a royal dinner that day, but,
when he went -to the grand dining-hall; pleased
with anticipations of a splendid feast, he found
that the sentiments of his 'majesty had become
mingled, and that he had determined, instead of
having a dinner, to conduct the funeral services of
one of his servants who had died the day before.
All the guests had been obliged by politeness to
remain during the ceremonies, which our King,
not having been acquainted with the deceased serv-
ant, had not found at all interesting.. Another
thing troubled him; his long walks had nearly worn
out his shoes, and, although he 'had sent through
his line of communication an order for a fresh
pair, he had already waited for them a greater
time than he had ever waited for anything before.
It took a long time for an order to go through all
the immense loops in which his followers were now
arranged in the city, and then to the comparatively
straight line between this city and his kingdom.

While sitting thus, he perceived a Genie walking
meditatively down one of the paths. Perceiving
him, the Genie stopped and asked what was the
matter with him. 'The King did not say anything
about the lost dinner and the funeral, because
he 'thought the Genie might possibly belong to the
court, but he told him how troubled he was about
his boots.
You need not annoy yourself about a matter
of that kind," said the Genie, smiling. "What
size do you wear?"
"Eights," said the King.
The Genie clapped his mighty hands, and in a
moment an Attendant Sprite appeared.
"A pair of number eight boots," said the Genie
best leather and purple tops."
Instantly the Attendant Sprite disappeared, and
the Genie, without waiting for the thanks of the
King, pursued his: !i-i dai .r. walk. In a short
time, the Attendant Sprite returned, bearing on a
silver salver a beautiful pair of new boots. The
King tried them on, and they fitted admirably.
"I am very glad you brought me the. boots," he
said to the Attendant Sprite. "I was very much
afraid that on the way your sentiments would be-
come mingled, and that you might bring me a
'"No," said the little fellow, "I am not one of
the regular inhabitants of this city, and I don't
mingle my sentiments much, although if I were







- "~1 -. F





to do so a little, just now, it would not surprise me,
for I am greatly worried in my mind."
"What troubles you? asked the King.
Well," replied, the Attendant Sprite, putting
his silver salver upon the ground, and seating him-
self in it, "I am afraid I'm an orphan, and that is
enough to trouble me, I am sure."
"You are not certain of it, then?" asked the
"Yes," said the other, I really may be certain
of it. You see that we attendant sprites have no
parents when we make our appearance in this
world, and if we want to be taken care of, we are
obliged to adopt a pair of parents as soon as pos-
sible. For a long time I had very good parents.
They did not know each other, but sometimes one
cared for me, and sometimes the other. But now
they have become acquainted, and have actually
gone off to get married. Of course, they will care
no more for me. My parents are lost to me. It
is especially hard for me to be an orphan, for the

world who needs as much as I do some parents to
take care of him and make him comfortable on
the rare occasions when he gets a chance to take
a little rest."
"Poor fellow! "said the King. "What do you
intend to do ?"
"I must look for another pair," replied the
other, "as soon as I can get the time."
"How would I do?" asked the King. Should
you like me for one of your parents ? "
You would do splendidly," cried the Attendant
Sprite, springing up. "I will take you, if you say
"Very well," answered the King. "I will be one
of them."
I am very much obliged," said the Attendant
Sprite; "and now I will look up the other one."
And away he ran.
The next day the King was in the garden again,
talking with the Sphinx, when the Attendant
Sprite re-appeared.

-1. -- -- ; :---.--- ... I, ". ....a .


Genie, my master, gives me a great deal of work "I have got the other one," he said, "or, at
to do, and some of his errands are very long and least, I had her." And he began feeling in his
difficult. There is n't an attendant sprite in the pockets. "Oh, here she is "he cried directly.


And he pulled out a little Pigwidgeon Fairy, about
six inches high.
This small creature looked rather old for her
size, and was dressed in a short-gown and petti-
coat, and wore a speckled sun-bonnet.
"Now I am all right," he cried. "There's a
father!" he said, pointing to the King; "and here,"
holding up the Pigwidgeon, is a mother Now,
then, I shall have a chance to be happy and com-
Just then he stopped, and looked as if he had
been struck by a chill. Oh, dear !" he cried, "the
Genie has summoned me." And he was off in an
"Poor dear poor dear! "cried the Pigwidgeon,
wringing her little hands. This sort of thing will
kill him before long. He tells me he hardly ever
has a minute to rest. His constitution wont stand
"But what is to be done? said the King. I
suppose he has to go when the Genie summons
But he ought n't to have to go !" cried the Pig-
widgeon. "Is n't there some way to get rid of
going? "
"I have heard," said the Sphinx, "that there
is only one way of not doing what a Genie tells
you to do when he is your master. You must re-
verse his summons."
How do you do that ?" asked the King.
I really can not tell you," replied the Sphinx,
"because I have never heard. To find out that,
we shall have to consult a Sage."
For this purpose they set out immediately, the
King carrying the Pigwidgeon in his pocket. They
walked a long, long way before they came to the
home of the Sage. In fact, they made a great cir-
cuit in going to this place, and the officer of the
court who followed next to him remarked to him-
self that if the Sphinx did not take the King by
such roundabout ways there would not be half as
much walking for them all to do.
The Sage was at home, and their business was
soon explained. The learned man took down
some old books from a high shelf, and turned to a
chapter which treated of the summonses of Genii.
After considerable study and thought, he an-
nounced to his visitors that the way to reverse the
summons of a Genie was to mingle his sentiments.
"There is nothing particularly learned about
that," exclaimed the King. In this city that sort
of thing is done all the time."
"Nevertheless," said the Sage, closing the book,
"that is the way to do it. Five drachmas of silver,
if you please."
The King paid the fee, and left the house very
angry. "That is a regular imposition," he said

to the Sphinx. Anybody in this place would
have told us exactly the same thing."
"Perhaps so," said the Sphinx, with a mystic
smile, "but I think we had better try it."
Indeed we must! cried the little Pigwid-
geon, putting her head out of the King's pocket.
" We must do everything we can to save our poor
dear from killing himself with errand-running for
this Genie."
But how is it to be done ?" asked the King.
We must think that over," answered the
When they reached the palace garden they
found the Attendant Sprite waiting for them. He
was very tired, and was lying on his back on the
grass. By this time the Sphinx had thought
thoroughly over the matter, and he now proposed
a plan.
The next time the Attendant Sprite is sum-
moned," said the Sphinx, "he must go to the
Genie, of course, but let him refuse to obey his
commands. If that does not mingle his sentiments
I shall be very much surprised. Then we shall see
what.will happen."
"I don't believe anything will happen, except,
perhaps, that he will be punished," said the King;
"but, as there is nothing else to be done, we will
try it."
"Oh, yes," replied the Pigwidgeon, we will
try it. We '11 try anything to save our poor dear
from his dreadful life."
It will be pretty hard on me," said the Attend-
ant Sprite, stretching his arms and legs out on the
grass; "but I suppose I 'll have to try it."
It was not long before the little fellow sprang to
his feet. He felt a summons from the Genie, and
was off in an instant. Impelled by some invisible
power he found himself in a very short time in one
of the rooms belonging to the ladies of the palace.
On a divan, sat a beautiful and richly dressed
Princess, and beside her stood the Genie.
Go, minion," said the Genie, to the top of
yonder high mountain. There you will find a
lovely garden surrounded by a crystal wall. In
the center of that garden stands a rose-bush more
beautiful than any bush that grows. On the bush
is a single damask rose, with a great pearl lying
like a drop of dew on its crimson bosom. Go and
pluck that rose, and bring it instantly to this fair
"I can't do it," said the Attendant Sprite.
It 's dreadfully tiresome going up high mount-
ains, and I always cut my legs when I climb over
crystal walls."
What! cried the Genie, turning black with
rage. Do you refuse ?"
Yes," said the little fellow, looking up at the



Genie, with his legs outspread and his hands
behind lis back. "I refuse, point-blank."
The Genie was so moved by rage that he turned
and twisted like the smoke from the chimney of a
forge. Go back he cried, his form trembling
until the house shook, to whatever wretched spot
you came from, and nevermore be slave of mine "
The Attendant Sprite turned, and was gone' in
an instant. Reaching the palace garden he threw
himself upon the grass. It is all right," he said
to his parents and the Sphinx. "I mingled his senti-
ments, and the summons is reversed."
"A united family! exclaimed the Pigwidgeon,
taking off her sun-bonnet, and smoothing her hair.
"Now, then," said the King, "I am in favor of
moving on. I am tired of this place, where every
sentiment is so mingled with others that you can
never tell what anybody really thinks or feels. I
don't believe any one in this country was ever
truly glad or sorry. They mix one sentiment so
quickly with another that they never have, so far
as I can see, anything but a sort of mushy feeling
which amounts to nothing at all."
"When the King first began to mingle his
sentiments," said the Sphinx, "it was because he
always wished to think and feel exactly right. He
did not wish his feelings to run too much one way
or the other."
"And so he is never either right or wrong," said
the King. "I don't like that, at all. I want to
be either one thing or the other."
I want to be one thing," said the Attendant
Sprite, as he lay upon the grass, "and that is
comfortable. Anybody who likes can be the
"I have wasted a good deal of time at this
place," said the King, as they walked on, "and I
have seen and heard nothing which I wish to teach
my people. And yet I desire very much to do
something which will prevent everything from
going wrong as it does now. I have tried plan
after plan, and sometimes two or three together,
and have kept this up year after year, and yet
nothing seems to do my kingdom any good."
Have you heard how things are going on there
now?" asked the Sphinx.
"Give it up," said the King.
This very much surprised the Pigwidgeon, who
was always glad to get news of any kind, and had
put her head out of the King's pocket, the better to
hear how his kingdom was coming on. "What
do you mean by that?" she asked quickly.
"I never answer a question put to me by a
Sphinx," said the King. "There is no knowing
what trouble it might lead to. But I don't mind
saying of my own accord, and not as answer to any
question, that I have sent a good many communi-

cations to my Queen, but have never received any
from her. So I do not know how things are going
on in my kingdom."
I dare say she thinks you would meddle if she
tells you what she is doing. I think she must be
a very wise Queen," said the Pigwidgeon. "And
now I want to say that I believe that is all stuff
about answering the Sphinx's questions. I am not
to be frightened by anything of that sort. Wont
you ask me a question?" she said, turning to the
"How do you do?" gravely asked the Sphinx.
Very well, indeed," answered the Pigwidgeon.
There she said, looking around triumphantly
before she cuddled herself down for another nap in
the King's pocket.
The party now went on for an hour or more, the
King and the Sphinx walking side by side; the
Attendant Sprite skipping in front of them; the
little Pigwidgeon sleeping quietly in the King's
pocket; and the long line of followers coming
after, keeping their relative positions a hundred
yards apart, and passing over all the ground the
King had traversed in his circuitous walks about
the city. Thus the line crept along like an enor-
mous snake in straight lines, loops, and coils; and
every time the King walked a hundred yards a
fresh man from his capital city was obliged to take
his place at the tail of the procession.
There is one thing we have found out," said the
Attendant Sprite, after a while, as he came down
from a tree where he had been gathering plums,
" and that is that resistance to tyranny is the root
of joy."
"There is no tyranny in my dominions," said
the King, "so there is no need of learning any-
thing about that."
Oh, of course not! said the little Pigwidgeon,
popping out her head, and looking back at the
long line of followers who had been obliged to
leave their homes and families to trudge after the
King in his wanderings. Nothing was said in an-
swer to this, and after a time the Pigwidgeon made
another remark. If you want to see a kingdom
where there really is something to learn, you ought
to go to the country of the Pigwidgeons," she
"All right," said the King. Let's go there."
And so, under the direction of the little creature,
they started to walk to her country. She wanted
to go there herself, she said, and would be very
glad to show them the way. In the course of the
afternoon they reached the edge of a high bluff.
" On the level ground, beneath this precipice,"
she said, "is the country of the Pigwidgeons.
You can sit on the edge of the bluff and look down
upon it."



The King, the Sphinx, and the Attendant Sprite
then sat down, and looked out from the edge over
the country of the little people. The officer of the
court who had formed the head of the line wished
very much to see what they were looking at, but,
when the line halted, he was not near enough.
There now, you see," said the Pigwidgeon,
"is the land of my people. You will notice that
the little houses and huts are gathered together in
clusters, and each one of these clusters is under a
separate king."
"Why don't they all live under one ruler?"
asked the King. "That is the proper way."
"No, it is n't," said the Pigwidgeon quickly,
"not if you want everything to go on right. You

them and govern them well, they will gradually
drop off from him and go to other clusters, and he
will be left without any people or any kingdom."
That is a very queer way of ruling," said the
King. I think the people ought to try to please
their sovereign."
He is only one, and they are a great many,"
said the Pigwidgeon. "Consequently they are
much more important. We know how to .do
things here, and everything goes on all right. No
subject is ever allowed to look down upon a king,
just because he helps to feed and clothe him, and
send his children to school. If any one were to do
a thing of this kind, he would be banished until he
learned better. I was banished for this very thing.




might as well have one father for all the families in
your city, and I am sure nobody would like that.
In each of these clusters live the Pigwidgeons who
are best suited to each other; and, if any Pigwid-
geon finds he can not get along in one cluster, he
goes to another. The kings are chosen., from
among the very best of us, and each one is always
very anxious to please his subjects. He knows
that everything that he, and his queen, and his
children eat, or drink, or wear, or have must be
given to him by his subjects, and if it were not for
them he would not be anything at all. And so he
does everything that he can to make them happy
and contented, for he knows if he does not please

I went to see our queen one day, and I suppose I
was a little airy when I saw her wearing the
clothes and eating the food I had helped to give
her. And so I was banished."
For how long? asked the Attendant Sprite.
"I was ordered to stay away," she said, "as
long as my sun-bonnet was clean and my clothes
were not torn. Now, I want you all to look at
me," she continued, turning herself around as she
stood before them, and tell me if I am really fit
to be seen. My sun-bonnet is all crumpled up
from sleeping in it, and there are several holes in
my short-gown and petticoat."
Everybody agreed that her clothes were certainly





soiled and worn-out enough to entitle her to return
to her home.
All right," she said; "I am going down to rpy
people. There is a little winding path here, by
which I can walk down easily. If everything is all
right, I will call for the Attendant Sprite, and he
shall bring you something to eat. Are you not
hungry? "
The King was obliged to admit that he was.
Food had been regularly passed to him from his
palace, but the line of communication had now
become so long that it took a great while to reach
him, and was often very stale and cold before he
got it. Sometimes it was spoiled on the way, and
then it was not passed on any further. So the
King, who had now been waiting a long time for
his dinner, which probably had been started to him
two or three days before, was very glad to get
something to eat, although he did not think his
appetite would be satisfied by the little mites of
food the Pigwidgeons must live upon. But when,
in a short time, the Pigwidgeon parent, in a clean
speckled sun-bonnet, and new short-gown and
petticoat, appeared at the bottom of the cliff and
called the Attendant Sprite to come down, he did
not have to wait long for a very good dinner. When
the Attendant Sprite returned, clambering up the
face of the cliff almost as quickly as he had gone
down, he bore with him a barn-full of fresh loaves
of bread, and a quantity of fruit. The loaves, of.
bread were no larger than very little biscuits, and
the fruit was like currants or elder-berries, but
they were both sweet and delicious, and there was
enough to give the three companions a good meal.
The first man in the line of followers looked very
much as if he would have liked to have had
some of these good things, but he was too far
away to expect any to be offered him.
Before long the little Pigwidgeon came toiling
up the winding path, and rejoined her former com-
panions. "It's all right with me down there,"
she said,. "and my time of banishment is over. I
wish you could go down to see what a happy con-
dition our country is in. The people are so good,
and so kind to their kings, and the kings are so
grateful for all that their subjects are doing for
them, and so anxious to preserve their good opin-
ion, that everything is going on beautifully."
"That may be very well for Pigwidgeons," said
the King, "but I can learn nothing from a govern-
ment like that, where everything seems to be work-
ing in an opposite direction from what everybody
knows is right and proper. A king anxious to
deserve the good opinion of his subjects! What
nonsense! It ought to be just the other way."
"It ought n't to be the other way, at all! cried
the Pigwidgeon, sharply, "and you could learn a

great, deal from our .government,: if you ichse !4
But you don't seem, able to:learn anythlirng al al.4
here, and so you had better -go on, and try.to
find some other government that is better than
ours. You 'll have a long walk of it, I can tell
you I am going home to my people." And so
saying, she ran down the little path.
The King now again took up the line of march,
turning away from the country of the Pigwidgeons.
But he had not gone more than two or three hun-
dred yards before he received a message from the
Queen. It came to him very rapidly, every man
in the line seeming anxious to shout it to the man
ahead of him as quickly as possible. The message
was to the effect that he must either stop where
he was or come home: his constantly lengthening
line of communication had used up all the chief
officers of the government, all the clerks in the
departments, and all the officials of every grade,
excepting the few who were actually necessary to
carry on the government, and if any more men
went into the line it would be necessary to call
upon the laborers and other persons who could not
be spared.
"I think," said the Sphinx, "that you have
made your line long enough."
"And I think," said the King, "that you made
it a great deal longer than it need have been, by
taking me about in such twisty-ma-curl ways."
It may be so," said the Sphinx, with his mys-
tic smile.
"Well, I am not going to stop here," said the
King, "and so I might as well go back as soon as
I can." And he shouted to the head man of the
line to pass on the order that his edict of banish-
ment be revoked.
In a very short time the news came that the
edict was revoked. The King then commanded
That the procession return home, tail end foremost.
The march was immediately begun, each man, as
soon as he reached the city, going immediately to
his home and family.
The King and the greater part of the line had
a long and weary journey, as they followed each
other through the country and over the devious
ways in which the Sphinx had led them in the City
of Mingled Sentiments. The King was obliged
to pursue all these devious turns, or be separated
from his officers, and so break up his communica-
tion with his palace. The Sphinx and Attendant
Sprite accompanied him.
When, at last, he reached his palace, his line of
former followers having apparently melted entirely
away, he hurried upstairs to the Queen, leaving
the Attendant Sprite and the Sphinx in the court-
The King found, when he had time to look into


the affairs of his dominions, that everything was in
the most admirable condition. The Queen had
selected a few of those officials who were best
qualified to carry on the government, and had
ordered the rest to fall, one by one, into the line
of communication. The King set himself to work
to think about the matter. It was not long before
he came to the conclusion that the main thing
which had been wrong in his kingdom was him-
self. He was so greatly impressed with this idea
that he went down to the court-yard to speak to the
Sphinx about it.
I dare say you are right," said the Sphinx,
" and I don't wonder that what you learned when
you were away, and what you have seen since you
came back, have made you feel certain that you
were the cause of everything going wrong in this
kingdom. And now, what are you going to do
about your government?"
Give it up," promptly replied the King.
"That is exactly what I should do," said the
Sphinx; and the Attendant Sprite remarked that
he thought under the circumstances he would do it
The King did give up his kingdom. He was
convinced that being a king '.' - .\-.a,0 tbh thin;
he was not suited for, and rh.t lie i.ould -ct on
much better in some other business or fbresion.
,* ,. ( r

He determined to be a traveler and explorer, and
to go abroad into other countries to find out things
that might be useful to his own nation. His
Queen had shown that she could govern the
country in the very best manner, and it was not at
all necessary for him to stay at home. She had
ordered all the men who had made up his line to
follow the King's example and to go into some
good business; and, not being bothered with so
many officers, she would be able to get along quite
The King was very successful in his new pursuit,
and although he did not this time have a line of
followers connecting him with the palace, he fre-
quently sent home messages which were of use
and value to his nation.
"And now," said the Attendant Sprite to the
Sphinx, I 'd like to know what I am to do for
parents. Both the Pigwidgeon and the King have
deserted me, and again I am left an orphan. I
wish I could find a pair of permanent parents."
"I feel very sorry for you," said the Sphinx,
"and I would help you if I could. If you choose,
I will be one of your parents."
"Well," said the Attendant Sprite, "when I
come to think of it, I don't believe I will bother
myself to make any changes at present. Good-
bye." And he quickly skipped out of sight.






A DULL, leaden sky. All day the snow-flakes
have steadily fallen, and now, as night approaches,
not a vestige of the frozen earth remains. Beppo
walks wearily along, his beloved guitar held closely
under his arm. He sees the lights lit in happy
homes; he sees the children, with their faces
pressed against the panes, watching with delight
the fall of the flakes, for to-morrow will be Christ-
mas and the snow will aid Kriss Kringle in his
visit; and a sad smile lights up his dark face, for
the snow that brings happiness to them brings him
deepest sorrow.
As the little wanderer strolls on, he thinks of
that land of mellow sunshine far over the sea, and
of the happy home he had before his parents died;
and, in contrast to this, he thinks of the home he
has now, and of the wicked fadrone who took him
from his cherished country.
These last thoughts arouse him to a sense of
business, and, clinking the few pennies in his
pockets, he takes up his position at the entrance
of a theater which is ablaze with, light. Then,
blowing his breath upon his stiff, cold fingers, he
plays a few wild, sweet notes upon his instrument
-aprelude to "Home, Sweet Home." He watches
the gayly attired people pass into the warm build-
ing, but none seem to notice the little figure shrink-
ing in the shadow. None save the gruff, burly
policeman who roughly grasps his shoulder and
says: Come, young un, move along now "
And Beppo, utterly disheartened, moves on. It
has been a poor day for business; he does not
dare to go home with the few pennies he has
earned; and now the stern mandate of the officer
has cut off his last chance of getting more.
He pauses under a gas-lamp, and, by its flicker-
ing rays, he counts his pennies over. Just ten-
enough for coffee and rolls; and he crosses over
to a little restaurant, and is soon indulging in a bit
of extravagance. Supper over, he plans where he
shall sleep.
He remembers a box filled with straw which he
has seen in his wanderings. He wends his way
toward it, and, when ten strikes from the tall
church-tower near by, Beppo is calmly asleep, his
guitar pressed tenderly upon his breast.
Twelve o'clock. As the last stroke reels out upon
the frosty air, Beppo awakes from a troubled dream.

His sharp ear catches the sound of voices, and he
remains almost breathless.
How are you going to work the job?" says
some one in a hoarse whisper.
It 's as easy as rolling off a log," replies his
companion. The girl leaves the kitchen-window
unlatched, and we 're in the house as nice as you
please. Have you brought all the tools?"
All in this bag," rejoins the first, and Beppo,
wide awake now, hears something jingle.
Then, ho for old Howland's silver !" chuckles
the second, and the two move off.
Beppo hears their footsteps die away. He
comprehends it all,- that there is to be a robbery,
-and wonders how he can prevent it. The name
Howland he has heard before, and he knows that
he may be the means of saving much.
He arises from his cramped position, and, stretch-
ing himself, reaches for his guitar. Then, shivering
as the piercing winds strike through his tattered
clothing, he glides swiftly down the street-on
until the bright light of a police-station greets his
In broken sentences, he tells his story to the
sergeant in charge, and the latter at once sends
two officers out to investigate the matter.
Beppo knows that he has done his duty-he can
do no more. Unnoticed, he steals out into the
dark street. Two or three blocks passed, a strange
feeling comes over him. The snow falls so fast
that he can scarcely see before him. Sick and
dizzy, he gropes his way up the steps of a private
residence and falls fainting in the door-way.
The Herald, two days after, contained among
its advertisements the following:

tion that led to the frustration of designs upcn a Fifth Avenue
house, will send his address to A- H-, Herald office, he will
hear of something to his advantage.

And the following in its local department:


Yesterday morning, while Mr. John Smith, of Blank street, was
searching for his paper in the door-way, his attention was drawn to a
little figure half-covered by the snow. A guitar was tightly clasped
in his hands. A doctor was immediately summoned and stimulants
were given, but to no avail. The poor little fellow was quite dead.
He was subsequently identified as Beppo, who, with his instrument,
was quite well known among people of the lower district.



3t 3 -----

I r -I -r II -






THE Dushees moved into a smaller house on
the Dempford side of the river, and on the first of
April the Tinkhams took possession of their new
Rush drove his mother and Letty over from the
Tammoset station in Mr. Dushee's buggy, which
the boys had about decided to purchase, together
with the horse, harnesses, and a good business
wagon-these being among the many things the
owner would now have no use for, and which, he
said, ought to go with the mill.
"A pretty fair sort of a horse," Rush remarked,
as he drove out of the village. "Get up "-with
a flourish of the whip. Not a two-forty nag,
exactly--go 'long, will you !-not very stunning
in the way o' beauty, but he '11 do till we can
afford a better."
"He looks well enough, I 'm sure," replied his
mother. "And why should boys always wish to
travel so fast ? I never expected we should be able
to keep a horse at all; and such a one as this,
even, seems too much-too great.a blessing "
"Oh, he 's beautiful, if he is only ours said
Letty. To think of keeping our own horse and
carriage! It's like a dream."
I hope it wont all turn out to be a big April
fool," said the mother, with a smile in which
quivered a deep and tender emotion. That 's
what I am afraid of."
The weather was fine; nearly all the first birds
had come; there was a sweet scent of spring in the
air. Letty, full of girlish hopes and gay spirits,
was delighted with everything; and it was easy
to see that, under all her-doubts and misgivings as
to this important change in their lives, the widow
felt a tranquil joy.
Until that day, Rush had not seen the place
since his first visit, and the others had not seen it
at all. It now appeared to him even more attract-
ive than before, and he experienced the anxious
pleasure of watching their first impressions as they
saw the lake, the river, the mill-roof appearing
among the willows above the bank, and the old-
fashioned house which was to be their future home.
Letty was almost wild with enthusiasm, while
in the mother's eyes glistened that happiness which
is akin to tears.

"Did n't I tell you it was nice?" Rush said,
Oh, yes said Letty; but I could n't be-
lieve it was half so nice as it is."
It is very charming, indeed," said the mother.
"What a pretty little plateau the house stands on!
I did n't think I should live to enjoy a home sur-
rounded only by the air and sunshine, with no near
neighbors but the trees and birds."
"There's Lute coming out to meet us," said
The boys had arrived with the loads of goods
earlier in the day, and had been busy putting
things to rights and preparing for their mother,
whom they wished to spare the trials of moving.
Lute ran out, hatless, in his shirt-sleeves, his
honest face beaming behind the spectacles which
gave it an almost comically wise look, and stam-
mered his joyful greeting.
"Well, M-m-mother, this is j-j-jolly! We
did n't want you to come a minute before; but
now we 're about r-r-ready for you."
He reached to lift her from the wagon, as ten-
derly as if she had been a child, at the same time
ordering Rush to "t-t-tumble out." But Rush
I want to drive her around the place first, and
show her the mill and the river."
"All right," said Lute. "That will give us a
1-1-little more time."
He ran in to give some finishing touches to his
mother's room, which was the first part of the
house the boys had meant to have comfortable, in
order to make her arrival as pleasant a surprise as
Rush drove around by the little barn, along the
track toward the mill; while Letty, who had leaped
from the buggy, ran on before, light and happy as
one of the newly arrived birds.
Hens were squawking with lazy content in the
warm sun beside the barn. A pullet was cackling
excitedly within,-over a new-laid egg, Rush said,-
and a .fine red rooster, stepping aside from the
track as they passed, crowed a shrill welcome-
sounds full of pleasant rural suggestion to ears and
hearts long shut up in city walls.
Then came shouts of boyish laughter, as the
two youngest, Rupert and Rodman, ran out of
the upper story of the mill, along the level shed-
roof, to meet the buggy bringing their mother.
Rush turned out on the turf near the edge of the

Copyright, 1882, by J. T. Trowbridge. All rights reserved.

VOL. X.-9.


bank, and stopped where they could look down on
the mill and the river, while Letty skipped along
the foot-plank to the seats in the branches of the
great willow.
"Oh, Mother, you must come here! she cried.
"You never saw so lovely a spot "
"Yes, yes, I see; it is all too lovely!" Mrs.
Tinkham exclaimed, with a tremulous smile.
Here 's Mart," said Rush. He and I can take
you up and carry you right over there without the
least trouble."
"So you shall, some time," his mother replied.
"I foresee that I am to spend many happy hours
in that grand old tree over the stream. But not
now; I must go into the house, and see how things
are getting on."
"Yes, Mother," said Mart, coming to the side
of the buggy, and looking up at her with an ex-
Spression which beautified his rather lank face and
homely mouth. I want you to come and look at
your little nest. Drive around, Rocket!"
At the side door he took her in his arms, and,
in spite of her protestations,-for, with the help of
her crutches, or an arm to lean on, she could walk,
- carried her through the kitchen and sitting-room
(where things were still in a chaotic state) into a
room beyond, where he set her down gently in her
own easy-chair.
She looked wonderingly about her. It was her
own carpet on the floor, her own bed set up and
freshly made, with the pictures on the walls and
the vases on the mantel to which her eyes had long
been accustomed.
"There! "- said Mart. "We want you to stay
here, and try to make yourself contented, while
we straighten out things in the other parts of the
house. We are getting along finely with the
woman we have hired, and we don't mean that
you shall take a step."
"Oh, this is too much!" said Mrs. Tinkham,
seeing how hard the boys had tried to make her
new home home-like to her at the start. I think
there never were such children as mine."
She had to cry a little, but soon dried her eyes
in her quick, resolute way, and observed:
"The poor old carpet was n't quite large
enough, was it?"
"All the better," said Lute, who peered in
through his spectacles to enjoy her surprise. "For
if it was, the r-r-room would be smaller."
"I am so glad you are to have a good large
room now, Mother !" Letty exclaimed. "We used
to crowd you so in the other house !"
It was a happy thought 'to the widow that-her
daughter and five sons had always found her room
so attractive; and she now looked around with
pleasant anticipations of the comfort they would

all take together there on future evenings and
Sunday afternoons.
"I never had the sun in my windows so before,"
she said. "I am afraid, boys, you 've given me
the best room in the house."
"We mean to make it the best, as soon as
we can afford it," said Mart. "We knew you
would n't like this wall-paper very well; but I
hope we can have the whole house repapered and
painted in a year or two."
The figures are rather old-fashioned," said his
mother; "but old fashions are coming around
to be new fashions now."
"And it's awfully Tonyy,' said Rush, "to have
your carpet too small for your room, leaving a
space a foot or so wide around by the wall!"
"And see," Letty laughed, gayly, what small
window-panes! The Lummells, in their new
Queen Anne cottage, have some just such little
scrimped-up panes, and think they are elegant."
Children, we are in style, and it seems to me
this place is going to be a little paradise I I like
it-I like it extremely! Did you bring in my
crutches, Rocket?"
In spite of all opposition, she was presently on
her feet,- or rather on her one good foot and a
crutch,-stepping about the house, giving instruc-
tions, and setting things in order with her own


THE boys worked hard, delighted with the
change, and inspired by youthful hope and joy.
They had taken the contract to supply rocket-
sticks, pin-wheels, and other wooden fixtures, for
Cole & Company's fire-works, and orders for toys

and dolls' carriages had been secured.
The mill met their most sanguine expectations.
Much of the old machinery proved to be good,
and their ingenious heads and skillful hands found
little difficulty in adjusting to it their own special
improvements in tools and apparatus. The future
seemed bright with the promise of abundant,
happy, and prosperous employment.
The simple water-power was a joy to their
hearts. The tide set back twice a day, and ebbing
again gave, as Mr. Dushee had said, about eight
hours of good running power out of every twelve.
The occurrence of this period varied day after day;
but they could easily accommodate their work to
it, for there would always be plenty of mere hand
labor to do in the intervals of flood tide and still
Two or three days after taking possession, while
they were experimenting with the machinery, they




received a call from Mr. Dushee. He came to in-
quire whether they had concluded to buy the
horse and wagons; and the vast landscape of his
countenance brightened when Mart said they
would try to have the money ready for him the
next day.
"I see you are making improvements," he re-
marked encouragingly, as he was about to go.

"A few changes seem necessary," Mart replied.
"One thing I am bound to have d-d-done," said
Lute. "In place of these flash-boards, we are
going to have a p-p-permanent gate."
A cloud of slight embarrassment passed over the
desert of a face.
I would n't be in a hurry about that; I advise
ye to wait and see how the flash-boards work."
"It is n't much trouble, I know," said Mart,
"to go and put in the flash-boards when we want

to start up the wheel; but what's the use even of
that ? I think Lute is right."
I 've already got a plan of a gate that will take
c-c-care of itself," said Lute. "To be hung by
the top, so the tide running up will open it, and
shut it r-r-running back."
I had thought of something like that myself,"
said the former owner. "But," he added, with
the air of one giving
disinterested advice, I
think you 'll find it for
your advantage to stick
to the flash-boards. Any-
way, you 'd better wait
awhile and see."
The boys laughed at
what they called his old
fogy notions" after he
S was gone; and Lute de-
clared that, as soon as
he could get around to
i ', it, he would certainly
have his g-g-gate.
It was not long, how-
ever, before they learned
that Mr. Dushee's coun-
S i sel was good.
That afternoon, a
stranger in a narrow-
seated buggy drove up
to the mill. Rush came
out of the upper story
to meet him.
h. I hear this property
S has lately changed
i. 1:n hands," said the stran-
o";:'l,.' t;a e ger, with an air of offi-
,, i cial authority.
.. "Yes, sir," replied
S i', Rush.
l "Who are the pres-
ent owners ?
I' ''I' Well, it belongs to
s.. L. pour family--the Tink-
... ham family."
"Where is the Tink-
ham family? I mean,
the head. I suppose there is a head somewhere."
The man spoke rather insolently, Rush thought,
so that he was tempted to make a laughing reply.
"Yes, there are several heads; pretty good ones,
too, some of us think. The property stands in my
mother's name," he added, more soberly. But
my brothers have charge of the mill and the
I want to see your brothers," said the man in
the buggy. "Tell 'em I am a fish-officer. I


come with authority from the fish commissioners,
to give due notice of the law and its penalties re-
garding obstructions in the way of migratory fish."
Rush did not feel like making a merry reply to
that. His heart sank a little, as he said:
"That is something I don't think they know
anything about." He thought of the dam. "They
are in the shop. Will you come in and see about
the obstructions ? "
The man got out of his buggy, followed Rush
into the mill, and there delivered his errand to the
oldest son.
Mart received it quietly, but Rush could see
that he was taken by surprise.
Is this a new thing? he asked.
"Not at all; we have to attend to it every
year," replied the officer. The alewives will be
running up the river in great numbers soon after
the middle of the month, and they must have free
Mart was silent a moment, only a reddish suf-
fusion of his eyes betraying to Rush that the dep-
uty's words had struck deep.
Come out here and see my brother," he said.
It was high water, the ebb was just setting in,
and Lute was on the platform over the dam, study-
ing the probable working of his proposed tide-gate
in some preliminary experiments with the flash-
He was interrupted by the approach of his
brothers with the stranger.
I guess we 'll give up the idea of agate for the
present," said Mart, with his usual drawl. This
man has an argument against it. Fire it off for
my brother's benefit, will you, Mr. Fish-officer? "
The deputy complied with cheerful glibness.
Lute listened intently, having set the flash-boards
to keep back the water. Then, having glanced at
Mart's serious face, he turned his gleaming specta-
cles up at the officer.
If this had happened three days ago," he
remarked, "I should have said it was an April-
f-f-fool! "
Well, it is no April-fool," replied the deputy.
So now what do you say? "
"I say Mr. Dushee is a f-f-fraud "
"He never said a word to one of us about a
fish-way," Rush spoke up in great excitement
But he knows the need of it well enough, often
as he has been warned," said the deputy.
What has he done to keep within the law? "
Mart inquired.
"There was only one thing to do. He has
pulled out his flash-boards and let the fish run."
"But that destroys the water-power! "
How -1-long ? stammered Lute.

The law requires that streams shall be free for
fish to run from the middle of April to the middle
of June. The alewives go up into the pond to
spawn. After that they descend the river again,
and return to the sea."
Mart had by this time recovered from the con-
sternation into which he had at first been thrown,
and his ingenious mind was already seeing its way
out of the difficulty.
I should greatly enjoy cracking the Dushee
cocoa-nut," he drawled, alluding in that irreverent
way to the former owner's head-piece, for not
telling us about this fish business. But it is n't
such a terrible matter, Lute. The fish go up with
the tide, I believe ? "
The great mass of them," replied the deputy.
" But a good many stragglers get caught by the
ebb, and have to work their way against it."
"These flash-boards float with the flood-tide,"
said Mart, "and of course they'll let the alewives
run up with it. I guess they wont be seriously
hindered, any of 'em. And by the time they have
spawned, and are all ready to run down again,
we '11 --"
We '11 have a f-f-fish-way constructed! broke
in Lute, with a rapid stammer. "I 've got it
already p-p-planned."
"That will be the best way," remarked the
deputy. ."In case of an impassable dam, the law
requires the owner to build such a fish-way as the
commissioners approve; or it requires them to
build it, and charge the cost to him. Dushee
thought it unnecessary,' and preferred to keep his
flash-boards open."
He added that he did not wish to be unduly
strict with any man who was willing to comply
with the law; having thus performed his duty, he
parted on very civil terms with the Tinkham boys,
and rode away.
We can get over this well enough," said Mart.
" But, I tell ye, I was in a pouring sweat for about
a minute. I believe I lost about a pound of flesh."
"I wonder if there is anything else Dushee
has kept back," said Rush, still excited. I 'm
afraid we don't yet know all his reasons for being
so anxious to sell."
"I remember, Father used to say, 'A man
always has two motives for every action, his real
motive and his pretended motive,' drawled Mart.
"I 'm afraid Dushee is the kind of man he meant.
What I 'm still more afraid of is, that we shan't
be glad when we find all his reasons out."
"Anyhow," said Lute, "I 'm going to have my
tide-gate all the same, soon as we 've b-b-built the
As the dam was only. two feet high, the fish-
way-consisting of open water-boxes placed one




above the other, so connected that the alewives
could easily work their way up or down through
them-seemed to be a simple and inexpensive
So did the tide-gate; But there was a stronger
argument against that than any the boys dreamed
of yet.



RUSH had been too busy to go off the place
since the day of the moving. But, after supper
that evening, he and Letty and the two younger
boys took a walk.
They strolled up the river as far as the bridge,
where they chanced to meet the elder Dushee
returning home from Tammoset.
Rush was inwardly boiling with indignation at
the man's extraordinary economy of the truth
regarding the alewife business, in all his talks with
the purchasers of the mill. But he controlled
himself, and said quietly, in reply to Dushee's
observation that 't was a pooty evening' to be takin'
a ramble:
"You never mentioned to any of us that there
might be some trouble about the alewives passing
the dam."
"Trouble? trouble?" said Mr. Dushee, blandly.
"Why, no! for I never believed there 'd be any
You did n't know the fish commissioners
would be after us, I suppose?"
Rush spoke with biting sarcasm. But the large,
bland countenance remained undisturbed.
"Oh there 's been an officer around, has they ?
I knew 't was about time. Comes every year. It's
his business. But that 's all 't amounts to."
You have paid no attention to his warning?"
said Rush.
Skurcely," Dushee replied in a confidential
way. I'd set my youngsters to watch for a few
days when the fish was running' the thickest, and
if they see the fish-officer a-comin', I 'd jest pull
up my flash-boards, and mabby leave 'em up till
they see him go 'long back down the river. That
is, if I happened to be running' the wheel. But
gener'ly I could git along without it for a part of
the time; then I 'd let the fish run. The dam
never was no hendrance to the alewives, and the
officer knew it," the former owner added, seeing a
wrathful light in the boy's eyes. "There never
was no trouble, and there never need to be none."
It seems to me, you might at least have told
us of anything of the kind that might turn up,"
Rush replied, in a rather choked voice; for it was

all he could do to keep his anger from breaking
"I s'pose I might," Dushee replied, cheerfully.
"But I did n't think it necessary. There's a good
many little things about the mill you '11 have to
find out for yourselves. If I can be of service to
ye, le' me know."
Then, as Rush was walking silently away, the
large-featured man repeated, with friendly persist-
ence, It's a re'l pooty kind of an evening' to be
takin' a ramble," and went smiling home.
The snow had vanished from the hill-sides, and
the ice from the lake. It was a still evening, and
the glassy water reflected the shores, the distant
orchards and groves, and the rosy hues of the
western sky.
The boys ran on toward the outlet, while Letty
sauntered slowly, waiting for Rush.
Oh, can't we have a boat-ride?" she called to
him, looking across the river, and seeing a skiff
hauled up on the opposite bank.
"That's the first boat I've seen; I didn't know
there was one on the river," said Rush. "Wait
here, and I 'll try to get it."
He hurried back to the bridge, crossed over to
a farm-house on the other shore, and was soon seen
running down to the water's edge with a pair of
"Go on up farther," he shouted, "and I '11 come
over and take you all aboard."
The current was running out, and he had to
keep close by the bank and pull hard until he had
succeeded in rowing the skiff up into still water.
Then, making a broad circuit above the outlet,
leaving behind him lovely ripples which spread far
away over the pink-tinted pond, he crossed to a
pebbly beach, where Letty was waiting with the
Eager for adventure, they scrambled aboard,
and Rush pushed off again.
This is better than the boat-rides we used to
have around the edge of the dirty old harbor,"
said Rupert.
"Oh, it is heavenly!" said Letty, who some-
times indulged in an almost too enthusiastic way
of expressing herself. "Why is n't the water cov-
ered with boats? I should think it would be."
"I suppose it is too early in the season for them
yet," replied Rush. Mr. Rumney said he had
only just got his into the water. That accounts
for its leaking so. Look out for your feet, boys "
"Let us row awhile, Rush," said Rupert, as they
glided out toward the center of the lake, which
appeared like a vast gulf of infinite depth illu-
mined by soft and delicate hues, until broken by
prow and oars.
Rush indulged them; they took each an oar,


while he assumed the place .in the stern and
steered, with a shingle for a rudder. Letty leaned
over the bow, enjoying the lovely views.
We '1 take Mother out here, when the weather
gets a little warmer," said Rush. "'I promised
myself that, the first day I saw the lake. Wont
she enjoy it! "
I wish she was with us now!" exclaimed
Letty. It is too much for us alone "
We can row back and get her," said Rodman.
Can't we, Rupe ? "
Oh, yes-it will be fine! said Rupe.
It was not because the young Tinkhams were so
much better bred or kinder-hearted than many
children, nor yet because their. mother's crippled
condition had called out their gentlest feelings
toward her, but rather, I suppose, because she
made herself so sympathetic and delightful a com-
panion to them, that they constantly thought of
her in this way.
But now all at once Rush had something else to
attract his attention.
"Hello there's that odd-looking-summer-
house, Dick Dushee called it."
What! that building on the shore?" said
Letty. Nobody would ever think of making
such a summer-house as that! "
And only an idiot or a k41ave would call it
one! Rush exclaimed, flushing very red in the
evening light. "Hold your oar, Rod! We '1
run over and look at it."
Steering with his shingle, he headed the skiff
toward the Tammoset shore and Dick Dushee's
astonishing summer-house.
"It 's built on piles over the water," said
Rupert. "And what 's that before it? "
A float," said Rush. It 's easy enough to
see what the building, is, and the rogue must have
known! ".
He was not long in surmising a reason for Dick's
seemingly uncalled-for prevarication. What he
had learned that afternoon made him suspicious
of the Dushees.
That 's Dick Dushee there, with another boy,
on the float," said Rupe.
"Pull away I want to catch him before he gets
off," said Rush, lowering his voice.
"What is the building-if you.know? Letty
asked, with excited curiosity.
"Nothing anybody need to lie about," Rush
muttered, still with his angry flush on. I '11 tell
you by and by. Dick he called, "see here a
Dick was stepping up from the float into a large
open door-way in the barn-like end of the building,
when, hearing the summons, he reluctantly faced

".This is your summer-house, is it ? said Rush,
I knew 't was some sort of a house to.have fun
in--in summer," said Dick, with an ignoble grin,
visible in the twilight. "I've found out what it is,
So have I, without any help from you," said
Rush. And, I 'm sorry to say, we 're finding
out other things that don't reflect much credit on
those who left us to discover them for ourselves."
I don't know what you mean," said Dick.
Rush was flaming up for a fierce reply, when
Letty stopped him.
Don't have any words with him, Rocket!"
Well, then, I wont. Not now. Hold on here
a minute, boys!"
To satisfy himself with regard to the character
and use of the ugly structure, he leaped to the
float, mounted the steps, and entered the great
door-way. In a little while he came out again,
with a troubled but resolute look.
How long has this been building?" he asked
of Dick's companion on the float.
"Ever since last winter," was the reply. "They
drove the piles through holes in the ice."
Did you know then what it was for? "
"I guess so i Everybody knew. Anyhow, it had
been talked of enough."
Rush gave Dick Dushee an annihilating look,
but said nothing as he stepped back into the boat.
"Why, what is it troubles you so?" Letty
asked, as they pushed off. "That boy told us
what the house was for, when you were inside;
but Rupert had already guessed."
"Ishould think anybody could guess!" said
Rush declined to talk upon the subject, as they
returned along the shore to the river. After land-
ing on Mr. Rumney's bank, he told Letty and the
boys to walk along to the bridge, while he re-
turned the oars.
Having thanked the farmer for them, he said:
"Are there many boats owned here on the
The farmer, standing in his open shed, filling
his pipe, answered, good-naturedly:
"Wall, considerable many; more 'n the' use' to
be, 'nuff sight."
"And on the lake ?" queried Rush.
Wall, a considerable many on the lake. There's
been a kin' of a boom in the boatin' interest
How so?"
"Wall," replied Mr. Rumney, striking a match
on his trousers, "for years there was no boatin' here,
to speak on. But the notion on 't has broke out
in a crop o' boys growing' up-a perfect epidemic.




'Specially sense the Argue-not Club was started last
summer, though why they call it the Argue-not
beats me, for I never seen anything else there was
so much arguin' about."
The smile that broadened the good-natured face
betrayed some consciousness of a joke. Rush,
however, took the matter with intense seriousness.
This new building over here, on the shore of
the pond, is the Argonaut Club's boat-house ?"
Mr. Rumney nodded as he puffed at his pipe.
Rush then said, trying to suppress a tremor in
his voice:
Has there been much trouble-about-boats
passing-Mr. Dushee's dam?"
"Wall," said the farmer, smiling again, since
you ask me a candid question, I s'pose I must
make a candid reply. There's been some trouble.
I may say perty considerable trouble. They say
the dam has got to go. Your folks '11 have to
know it, and ye may as well know it fust as last."
Rush constrained himself to say calmly:
"Seems to me we ought to have known it a
little sooner."
"'T would have been for your interest, no
doubt," the farmer replied; adding, with a smile
of the broadest humor: "If a man 's going to put
on a stockin', and there 's a hornet's nest in it,

he 'd naturally ruther like to know it 'forehand-
leastways, 'fore he puts his foot in too fur "
"Naturally," said Rush. It was the hornet's
nest, as you call it, that made Dushee so anxious
to sell? "
"Should n't wonder!" Mr. Rumney gave a
chuckle, which had a disagreeable sound to the
boy's ears. Anyhow, he never said nothing' about
selling 'till the Argue-nots argued him into it."
My brothers came and talked with you before
buying," said Rush. "Why did n't you tell
them ?"
Wall, 't wan't my business. Dushee he come
with 'em. Neighbors so, I did n' like to interfere
and spile his trade."
In saying this, the worthy man appeared wholly
unconscious of having acted in any but a fair and
honorable way.
Something swelled alarmingly in Rush's throat,
but he swallowed hard at it, and finally managed
to say, Thank you, Mr. Rumney."
He turned to go, paused, turned back, and hesi-
tated a moment, as if struggling against a tumult-
uous inward pressure, an impulse to free his mind
of some volcanic stuff. But he merely added:
"Much obliged to you for the boat," and
walked stiffly away.

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Together with the Doings and Diver-
sions of Master Rauf Bulney and
Mistress Margery Carew.
IT was a breezy, sunshiny day in the early English spring-the 13th of
March, 1520. The hills and valleys of Buckinghamshire lay bleak and bare,
with but scant signs of the verdure imprisoned beneath. The ancestral oaks
that studded the lawn and bordered, the roadway before the Hall swayed and
shivered in the wind that swept the Chiltern Hills and rocked the oaks and
beeches of the Aylesbury woods. With jacket carelessly open and doublet
disarranged, rode young Rauf Bulney across the roadway. His face was all


aglow from the exercise that had followed his en-
deavors to teach his fractious hobby, Roland, to leap
the bars, while a reckless enjoyment of the March
breezes made him careless alike of a possible throat-
distemper and of his customary trim appearance.
Roland had shown so determined a disposition
to shirk his duty and refuse the leap, and had
arched his shapely neck so repeatedly in protest
before the bars, that Rauf had satisfied himself
with two or three successes, and now, holding on
his wrist the cleanly made little lanard," or fal-
con, that his uncle had recently given him, was on
his way to test its merits. Just as he dashed across
the roadway a rider, booted and spurred, passed
him at full speed, his black horse flecked with foam,
while on breast and back shone out in crimson and
gold the well-known badge of his Grace the Cardinal.
A courier from Hampton Court, though no
infrequent visitor at Verney Hall, was still ever
an object of interest; and Rauf, weighing in his
mind the opposing attractions of courier and
falcon, decided for the courier and turned his
steps toward the Hall. At the foot of the terrace
stood Dick Ricroft, thl" groom of the. stables, hold-
ing the courier's impatient steed.
Rauf wavered-the horse for the moment eclipsed
the courier.
You beauty he said, admiringly. "Let me
try a turn with him, Dick ?"
"The saints forbid !" interposed the horrified
Dick. "Ride one of the lord legate's horses,
Master Rauf! 'T would be as much as all our
heads are worth, and I 've no mind to lose mine
yet. Besides," he added, -- th. :.:..ur rr.,,nr riJJ
on to Sir John Hampden's. ir, t hil. :i-. .: :,! . s
he has delivered his
message to Sir Rauf."
"What! Hampden
Manor, too? Why _.

this must be some special mission. What 's afoot,
Dick?" questioned the boy.
Ah, you must needs find that out for yourself,"
replied the cautious Dick. "'T is something touch-
ing the King's Grace and a journey to France."
To France?. Oh, glory!" and the impetuous
youth, aflame with a new excitement, bounded up
the terrace and dashed into the great wainscoted
hall, where, at the middle table, sat the Cardinal's
courserman-a barley loaf and a dish of "war-
dens," or baked pears, before him, his face half-
buried in the great pot of ale with which he was
washing down his hasty lunch.
"Well, how now, how now, young hot-head?"
came the deep voice of the boy's uncle, and, check-
ing his impatience, Rauf walked slowly up to
where, near the dais, stood his uncle, Sir Rauf
Verney, papers in hand and a perplexed expression
on his face.
"What 's astir, sir?" asked young Rauf, with
the privilege of a favorite, as he leaned against the
dais and glanced into his uncle's face.
Bide a bit, Sir Malapert," said his uncle be-
neath his voice, adding, as the. courier rose from
the long table and wiped the ale from his heavy
mustache: Art refreshed, good Master Yeoman ?"
"Fully, thanks to your worship," was the reply.
"I must now hasten on to Hampden Manor."
Say to your master, the Lord Cardinal," said
Sir Rauf, "that
the commands of A
the King's High-
ness shall have
T ., pr..p.: r .:. -i -
nc :" .ind. *: ,urt- -
.. ..



.. *II ..:,. ...: .V :- L i 1 h1 ': ,,1 i t. 1,
he came back and looked to his wife for counsel.
"'T is the King's command and the Cardinal's
wish. I suppose it must be done," said Lady Anne
Verney, smoothing the folds of her satin kirtle.
"'T will cost a pretty peck of angels," said Sir
Rauf, somewhat ruefully, as he stroked his long
brown beard.
But the honor of England and the Verneys,
Sir Rauf interposed the Lady Anne.
"Yes, yes, I know," said her husband; needs
must when the K h;, l ii But as to my following,"
he added, musingly; 'ten persons well and con-
veniently appareled and horsed'"-then, sud-
denly, "Rauf, would'st like to go to France? "
Respectful silence in the presence of one's elders
was enforced by something more than words in
those early days, and Rauf, though inwardly chaf-
ing at being so long kept in the dark, dared not
ask for information. So, when his uncle's quick
question came, the boy as quickly answered: To
France? Oh, Uncle When?"
"That means yes, I suppose. Here, my boy,
make test of Master Bolton's teaching on this
paper," and he handed Rauf a billet on which ran
the address: To our trusty and well-beloved Sir
Rauf Verney, Knight."
Thanks to the careful tuition of Master Bolton,
the chaplain at the Hall and a well-furnished
scholar from the Oxford schools, Rauf could at
least spell out enough of the billet to understand
that it was a summons from the Cardinal Wolsey,
Lord Chancellor of England, through the hand of

F-. Ru-

tob at t c i t
and the Frenc Knhe
A'ing:s i'igtness witht
a following of ten able and seemly persons, well and
convenientel aigareled and horsed; the saml e Sir
ear f Verney to afnear, as to his degree and honor
belongeth, a g the camn in the marches of Capis,
between Guisnes and Arde, in the month of Mfay,
and at thle time of meeting between the King's Grace
and aye French Ki o ioi."
All the boyish curiosity, the love of excitement,
and the delights of anticipation that lived in the
heart of our young English Rauf of three and a
half centuries ago, even as in the equally impetu-
ous natures of our English and Americap boys of
to-day, were stirred to their depths as he took in
the meaning of the royal summons, and he turned
a joyously expectant face to his uncle.
"Yes, yes," responded Sir Rauf Verney, with a
smile, to his nephew's unasked question. "'T is
a royal command and admits of no refusal. And
you, Rauf Bulney, page, shall go 'well and con-
veniently appareled' as squire to the body in the
following of Sir Rauf Verney, Knight."
"But just where are Guisnes and Arde, Uncle ?"
queried the boy.
"Tut, tut, lad; shall we jog your truant mem-
ory or Master Bolton's lagging work?" said the
knight. "They lie, both, in the marches of
Calais, in the valleys between our English town of
Calais and the glorious field of Agincourt. This
Guisnes is a town and castle in English territory,
and Arde is a town and castle in French territory.
They stand scarce two leagues removed from each



other. Though how these castles will serve for
convenient and proper lodgings for the Kings'
Highnesses passes my fathoming. I mind me that
on my last return from Flanders, now nigh two
years since, I went with my Lord Fitzwater over
the castle of Guisnes, and found it wretched
enough-its moat dry and weedy, its battlements
dismantled, its keep ruinous and crumbling. And
as for the French castle, they made equal poor
report-the town long since in ruins, the castle
desolate and impaired, its fosse choked and useless,
its donjon untopped, its walls torn with breaches."
"A sorry place for a royal interview," said Lady
Anne; "but will not due care be taken to make
them presentable ? "
Trust the Lord Cardinal for that," replied Sir
Rauf. "Where so lavish a hand commands, small
doubt is there as to great results. His Grace's
courserman tells me that nigh twelve hundred
workmen have been dispatched to Sir John Petchie,
deputy of Calais, under orders to Lord Worcester,
the commissioners, and the chief artificer."
"But what is it all for, Uncle-this interview
between our King's Highness and the King of
France ? asked young Rauf, who with ready ears
had drunk in all his uncle's words. Ignoring Sir
Rauf Verney's long explanation, half-politics, half-
rumor, and all glorification of his liege and King
such as he, born courtier, gallant soldier, and true
Englishman, could not help giving, we may con-
dense Rauf's acquired information into a few words.
Three young men, Henry Tudor, of England,
aged twenty-eight, Francis d'Angoul8me, of
France, aged twenty-five, and Charles von Haps-
burg, of Spain, aged nineteen, at that day swayed
the destinies of the Christian world as monarchs
of their respective countries. The imperial throne
of Germany, then known as the holy Roman
Empire," becoming vacant in 1519, by the death
of the Emperor Maximilian, these three young
kings, each with distinct but varying claims, as-
serted their right of election_to the vacant throne.
On the i8th of June, 1519, the electors of Germany
rendered their final decision, and the younger
of the three competitors, himself scarcely more
than a boy in years, ascended the imperial throne
as the Emperor Charles the Fifth-the mightiest
monarch in Christendom. Henry of England,
aware of the hopelessness of his claim, had already
withdrawn from the contest; but his neighbor,
Francis of France, brilliant, chivalric, handsome,.
and brave, but royally self-willed and impetuous,
chafed under his defeat, and sought to weaken the
power of his successful rival by an alliance between
those two inveterate enemies, France and England.
Thomas Wolsey, the son of the honest butcher of
Ipswich, was now Cardinal Archbishop of York,

legate of the Pope and Lord Chancellor of Eng-
land, mighty in influence with his master the
King, feared and flattered by all the courts of Eu-
rope. He received with approval the propositions
of Francis looking to an interview between the
kings of France and England, and, gaining the
consent of Henry, sought to make this interview
such an occasion of splendor and ceremonial as
should delight their majesties and gratify his own
love of display. By it, too, he hoped to increase
his power over both courts and thus advance him-
self toward the prize he coveted-the throne of
the Pope, then the highest attainable dignity in
the Church and the world.
To make this royal interview, then, imposing in
its ceremonial and splendid in the magnificence of
its display, all England and all France labored and
lavished, struggled and spent, managed and mort-
gaged until, as one of the old chroniclers expresses
it, "many lords bore to the meeting their mills,
their forests, and their meadows on their backs."
So much for the political history. To young
Rauf Bulney, however, as he watched the prepara-
tions that for two months kept the household at
Verney Hall in continued bustle and action, the
desires of kings and the ambition of cardinals
went for but little. For him two realms were ex-
cited, two nations disturbed, in order that a fresh
and healthy young English boy of fifteen years,
Rauf Bulney by name, might go to France in
grand style and feast his eyes on glorious sights
and royal profusion.
At last the eventful time arrived, and in the
early morning hours of Wednesday, the I6th of
May, 1520, Sir Rauf Verney, with Master Rauf
Bulney, his squire, Master Bolton, his chaplain,
with color-man, archers, and bill-men, all picked
from the very flower of the Verney tenantry, re-
splendent in new liveries and displaying the Verney
arms, bade good-bye to Lady Anne and the Hall,
and, while roadways and forest were sweet with the
breath of an English spring, the Verney following
passed over the Chiltern Hills and through pleas-
ant English meadows, to London first, and thence
on to Dover. Not the least happy in that train
was our friend Rauf, with a pardonable pride in
'the possession of three rich suits, and a happy
consciousness that he looked quite as nicely as he
At Dover, the straggling, stuffy little town of
three hundred years ago, they found a great crowd
of nobles and gentlemen, with their attendant
trains; while the valley of the Dour and the
slopes of the chalk hills were white with tents and
gay with streamers. Here, by the orders of the
Lord Chief Marshal, the Earl of Essex, Sir Rauf
Verney's following was joined to that of the Earl


of Dorset. Sir Rauf himself was ordered to attend
the Cardinal at the immediate reception of "the
elect King of the Romans," otherwise the Emperor
Charles the Fifth. For that enterprising young
monarch, knowing full well the excessive courtesy
and winning manners, of the French King, sought
to gain an advantage over his rival by a prior
meeting with Henry of England. And so, hurry-
ing from Barcelona with only sixty ship and the
Queen of Arragon," he met the English King at
Dover before he had crossed to France.
Is our King's Grace, then, so wondrous great
that this mighty Emperor fain must sue to him? "
Rauf asked his uncle when he heard the summons;
even his boyish enthusiasm for his King being un-
able to grasp this wonder of the "Monarch of
Christendom" doffing his bonnet to an island
Ah, my lad," replied his thoughtful uncle,
"the King of the Romans sees far and shrewdly.
An alliance between our King's Highness and him
of France would threaten a mighty breach in King
Charles's great dominions. Besides, our noble King
of England, so my Lord Bishop of Worcester
writes from Rome, 'is in great reputation in Chris-
tendom,' and none know this better than the King
Catholic. See now,' my boy, what kingship does
for a man. This young King Charles is scarce
four years your elder; but, ah! it 's an old, old
head on green shoulders."
So reasoned the cautious courtier, and so young
Rauf accepted it; and, next morning, stood for
hours at the door of his lodging to see this boy
Emperor ride by with the English King on the
way to the shrine of Thomas k Becket at Canter-
bury- "the more to solempne the feast of Pente-
cost," says the old chronicle. What Rauf really
saw was a spare young man of medium height,
with pale face and heavy under-jaw, with hooked
nose and small, irregular teeth, plainly dressed, as
compared to the magnificence of England's kingly
King, by whose side he rode. But what Rauf
could not see in that quiet face was the deeper
purpose that, even then, told of great possibilities,
as fitted the man who, for forty years thereafter,
held an imperial scepter in an imperious grasp.
Four days passed, and then, the Emperor's visit
over, on the 31st of May the King of England,
with his Queen and court,-above five thousand
persons and nearly three thousand horses,--crossed
from Dover to Calais. Standing in the bow of the
stanch little Maglory," one of Miles Gerard's
stoutest hoys,- a small sloop-rigged vessel used
for coasting work,-Rauf watched with interest
the embarkation. The white chalk cliffs of Dover
shone in the morning sun, the foam-capped waters
of the Straits glistened and sparkled, while a host

of small craft, bright with pennons and colors,
scudded before the wind out from the shadow of
Dover Castle, dipping and bobbing over the
choppy waves toward the opposite port of Calais.
In the midst of the fleet, gay with the fluttering
decorations of St. George's cross, the Tudor
dragon, and the Tudor rose, sailed the royal trans-
port, the "Katherine Pleasance."
Just as the Maglory rounded in behind the
"Katherine," a sudden puff of wind and a choppy
sea drove her hard against the stern of the royal
vessel. There was a bump and a loud crash, and
Rauf saw a young girl, whom he had already
noticed as one of a merry group of ladies, topple
over with the shock, and fall from the deck of the
" Katherine" into the waters beneath. A shriek
from the ladies on the King's vessel, a sudden wear-
ing off on the part of the "Maglory," and then,
impetuous as ever, as heedless of the consequences
as of his satin doublet and his crimson cloak, his
gold-embroidered hose, and his boots of Spanish
leather, off from the bow of the "Maglory"
jumped Master Rauf in aid of the drowning girl.
A strong stroke and a ready eye, which much prac-
tice in his home streams had given him, stood him
well in need; stout ropes and sturdy arms trailed
over the lee of the Katherine," and the girl and
her rescuer were soon on deck, the one limp and
faint from her peril, the other well enough in body
but sorely damaged as to his gala dress.
"A trim young gallant and a brave! Whom
have we here as the savior of our fair but unsteady
maiden? asked a deep, rich voice, and looking
up, Rauf found himself in the midst of a gayly
dressed group of lords and ladies, the foremost of
whom was a man of tall and commanding appear-
ance, well built, and stout almost to heaviness, with
pleasant face, a fresh and ruddy countenance, and
a short, golden beard and kindly smile, the very
picture of health, imperiousness, and royal grace
-Henry the Eighth, King of England.
The courtier blood of the Verneys lent grace
and homage to the obeisance with which Rauf
accompanied his answer to the King's question.
"I am Rauf Bulney, may it please your Grace;
nephew and squire of the body to Sir Rauf Verney,
Knight, in my Lord of Dorset's train."
"Ha! of our old friend Verney's stock," said
.the King. "And do you thus incontinently dive
with equal speed to rescue the perishing, even be
they not so fair to see as is our sweet maiden, Mis-
tress Margery-eh, young sir? "
Again bending low, Rauf replied to the royal
"My sponsors have taught me, my liege, that.
the true knight showeth due courtesy to all alike."
A right knightly answer, is it not, my lords ?"



said Henry, highly pleased. "And who, pray,
after your good uncle and the Lady Anne, may
your guiders be, my boy ? "
Master Bolton, an Oxford scholar, is our
chaplain, your Grace."
Ha ? himself a pupil of our worthy Dean Colet
-rest his soul! One of the new learning, too.
We have high hopes of the youth of this present
England, whose sponsors and preceptors are
such as yours. But, body of me said the
King, hastily, as his eye caught the
little rills that coursed down
Rauf's shivering but respect-
ful legs, in crimson and
violet tides; "here
stand we chat-
tering, and there
stand you a-chat-
tering, as well.
Good Master
Cary, take this
young springald
to our yeoman I
of the robes and
see him suita-
bly appareled. j
Thereafter will
we request the
Lord Cardinal,
with due regard
to my Lord of
Dorset, and Sir
Rauf, his uncle,
to add him to
the file of our ".-
special pages.
mannered and MARGERY CAREW.
well-favored lad."
Rauf was shrewd courtier enough to make no
reply to this promise of advancement beyond the
customary low bow, and he therefore kept quiet
as to his extra suits of gay clothing. "He who
would rise must know when to hold his tongue,"
his uncle had taught him; and here seemed the
opportunity to put this precept to the test.
On deck once more, dressed in a rich suit of
crimson and violet blazoned with the Tudor rose,
Rauf received with boyish sheepishness, not unmixed
with his native courtesy, the well-spoken thanks
of Mistress Margery Carew-a trim and sprightly
little lass of near his own age, whose blue velvet
gown, with its lining of crimson tinsel, well set off
her fair Saxon face. She was the little daughter

of Sir Richard Carew, a knight of Surrey, placed
by her father among Queen Katherine's gentle-
women under the protection of Lady Gray.
And let me tell you, Master Page," said Lady

--- Q
------ 'F

-~c~- ---
------~ a


Gray, as she warmly thanked Rauf for his aid, a
sorry loss of a sprightly lass would have fallen upon
us had you not so quickly taken to the water."
So, in exchange of pleasant words and compli-
ments, of questions and explanations, the crossing
to the French shore was quickly made, and all too
soon, as it seemed to Rauf, the ramparts and
towers of Calais lay abeam.

(To be continued.)


.s.A "-- ;. c7--^--'-^ ^," i

A llegretto.


i. In the old time, runs the sto ry, There was once a won-drous night, When from out the un seen
2. Since that day the chil-dren's voi-ces Have caught up the glad re frain; And to- night the heart re -

watched their flocks and then In their waking, or their dreaming An gels sang," Goodwill to men I
glo ac-claim ry Burst cry song of glad de light; It was when.... the stars were to gleam-ing, Shepherds
joic es That the hour comes round a gain; And the chil dren are our an gels, With one

-o- '- --_---1 -S- -o- s ; -ti- I w I --- o- I

watched their flocks, and then In their wak-ing, or theirdreaming. An- gels sang,'' Good-willto men !"
loud.... ac-claim they cry, Answ'ring back the glad e van gel's"" Glo -ry be to God on high !".

"--,-J--.._> i. ) "' -" /" -S-Sf--:-]

-- _ __== __. -____ -=_ -.- _- __.



Mer ry Christ mas! Mer ry Christ-mas! Let us make the heav-ens ring! Ech-o

TENOR. f__

Mer- ry Christ mas! Mer- ry Christ-mas! Let us make the heav- ens ring! Ech o

back the an gels' mes- sage, With the songs the chil dren sing!....

back the an gels' mes -sage, With the songs the child dren sing !....

I z -zI-- I----
hack teti t dr e ng__ _.-


~0- ,I
wr ',


,, ... ....I,
,,,,l .A,




go to meet the little trials and temptations of the
coming week, I want to make a proposition. I am
old-fashioned, and I do not like to see young girls
in so public a place as the cafi of a great fair.
Your mothers differ with me, and I have no right
to dissuade you. But I have asked leave to try
and keep the young heads from being quite turned,
and the young hearts from forgetting the sweet
old virtues-modesty, obedience, and self-denial.

haves best during the week. Like the fairy god-
mother in the story, I shall know what happens,
and which of you deserves the reward. Laugh, if
you will, but keep our little secret, and try to

This was the letter read aloud by one of three
young girls, who sat together in the pretty, old-time
dresses they were to wear while serving as attend-
ants in the refreshment saloon at the fair. A very

So I write to say that I intend to give the set of select and fashionable fair, you may be sure, or
pearls you all so much admire to the one who be- Kitty, Kate, and Catherine St. John would not be



allowed to play waiter-girls in these dainty costumes
of muslin, silk, and lace.
"That is just one of Grandma's queer ideas. I
don't mind trying, but I know I shan't get the
pearls, because I 'm always doing something
dreadful," said Kitty, the merry member of the
Kit Kat Club, as the three cousins were called.
"I 'd do anything to get them, for they are per-
fectly lovely, and just what I want," cried Kate,
dropping the letter to give the kitten in her lap a
joyful squeeze.
"I suppose she will find out how we spend the
gold ten-dollar pieces she gave us, if she is going
to know everything we do; so we must mind what
we buy," added Catherine, with a frown, for she
dearly loved to buy nice little things and enjoy
them all by herself.
"Let us see-'modesty, obedience, and self-
denial.' I think it wont be very hard to behave
like angels for one week," said Kate, the oldest
and prettiest of the three, looking again at the
letter she had read aloud.
"Obedience is always hard to me, and I never
expect to be an angel," laughed Kitty, while her
black eyes twinkled with mirth and mischief,
as she threw down her knitting.
Self-denial sounds very nice, but I do hate
to give up things I want, and that is just what
it means," sighed Cathy, who seldom had a
chance to try this wholesome virtue in her luxur-
ious home.
"People call me vain sometimes, because I
don't pretend to think I 'm a fright, when I know
I 'm not; so perhaps Grandma meant the 'mod-
esty' for me," said Kate, glancing at the long
mirror before her, which reflected a charming
figure, all blue silk, lace ruffles, and coquettish
knots of ribbon here and there.
"Of course, you can't help knowing you are a
beauty, with your blue eyes, yellow hair, and sweet
complexion. I should be as vain as a peacock
if I were half as pretty," answered Cathy, who
mourned over her auburn locks and the five
freckles on her rosy cheeks. But she had never
looked better than now, in her pale green-and-
white costume, with fan and mitts, and the objec-
tionable hair hidden under a big cap, that added
several years to her age-a thing one does not
object to at sixteen.
"Now, I don't worry about looks, and, as long
as I have a good time, it does n't matter if I
am as brown as a berry and have a turned-up
nose," said brunette Kitty, settling the cherry
bows on her flounced apron, and surveying with
great satisfaction her red silk hose and buckled
"Wont it be delicious to own a set of real
VOL. X.--o.

pearls,-necklace, earrings, and cross,-all on
black velvet in a red case, with a great gold C on
the outside So glad our fathers were brothers
and named us all for Grandma; now the letter
suits each of us. Young girls can wear pearls,
you know. Wont the necklace look well on
me ? asked Kate, glancing again at the mirror,
as if she already saw the new ornament on her
white throat.
"Lovely! cried both the others, who heartily
admired bonny Kate, and let her rule over them
because she was a little older. "Don't tell any
one about this trial of ours, nor what we do at
the fair, and see if Grandma really does know,"
said Kitty, whose pranks always were found out
in some mysterious manner.
She will--I know she will! Grandma is a
very wise old lady, and I do feel sometimes as
if she really was a fairy godmother-she knows
so well what we want, and do, and think about,
without a word being said," added Cathy, in
such an awe-stricken tone that the others laughed,
and agreed that they must look well to their
ways if they wanted the promised reward.
The fair began next day, and a splendid open-
ing it was, for neither time, taste, nor money had
been spared to make the great hall an inviting
place. The flower-table in the middle was a lovely
bower of green, with singing-birds, little fountains,
and the attendant young ladies dressed as roses of
different sorts. At the art table, maidens in
medieval costumes made graceful pictures of
themselves, and in the cafe' old-fashioned Priscillas
and neat-handed Phyllises tripped to and fro, with
all the delicacies of the season on their silver sal-
vers. Round the walls were the usual booths, full
of gay trifles, and behind them sat the stately
matrons who managed the affair, with their corps
of smiling assistants, to beguile the money out of
the full pockets of the visitors. The admission fee
was so high that none but the well-to-do could
enter, so no common folk mingled with the elegant
crowd that soon filled the hall and went circling
around the gay stalls with a soft rustle of silks,
much nodding of plumed bonnets, and a lively
rattling of coin, as people bought their last Christ-
mas gifts at double the price asked for them in
any shop.
"Isn't it splendid?" whispered the Kit Kat
Club, as they stood with their trays waiting for the
first customers to appear.
I 'm sure I don't see what harm Grandma
could find in this," said Kate, shaking out her
skirts and smoothing the golden curls shining on
her temples.
"Nor I," cried Kitty, prancing a little to enjoy
the glitter of the buckles in her smart shoes.


"Nor I yet," echoed Cathy, as she looked from
her cousins to the nine other girls who made up
the twelve, and saw in the excited faces of all some-
thing which dimly suggested to her more thought-
ful mind what Grandma meant.
Just then a party came under the flag-festooned
arch, and all the young waiters flew to serve their
guests, for now the fun began.
Nothing remarkable happened that first day, and
our three were too busy learning their duties and
trying to do them well, for any thought of pearls
or promises. But at night they confided to one
another that they never were so tired in all their
lives, for their feet ached, their heads were a jumble
of orders, and sundry mistakes and breakages much
disturbed their peace of mind.
Kitty walked in her sleep that night, and waked
her mother by rattling the candlestick, evidently
under the impression that it was her tray.
Kate kept calling out: Two vanilla ices Cup
of coffee Chicken salad for three And Cathy
got up with a headache, which inclined her to think,
for a time at least, that Grandma might be right
about young girls at fairs.
But the pleasant bustle soon set spirits dancing
again, and praises from various quarters reconciled
them to the work, which was not half so much like
play as they had supposed; so the cousins strolled
about arm in arm, enjoying themselves very much,
till the hour for opening the cafe arrived.
They all three made a discovery this day, and
each in a different way learned the special tempta-
tion and trial which this scene of novelty and ex-
citement had for them.
Kate saw many eyes follow her as she came and
went, and soon forgot to blush when people turned
to look, or whispered, "Is n't that a pretty one?"
so audibly that she could not help hearing. She
was a little shy at first, but soon learned to like it,
to feel disappointed if no notice was taken of her,
and often made errands about the hall, when off
duty, that she might be seen.
Kitty found it very hard to be at the beck and
call of other people, for she loved her liberty and
hated to be "ordered round," even by those she
was bound to obey. Just now it was particularly
hard, for, though the presiding ladies tried to be
angelic, the unavoidable delays, disorders, and
mishaps at such times worried them, and some
were both dictatorial and impatient, forgetting that
the little maids were not common Biddies, but
young ladies, who resented the least disrespect.
Cathy's trial was a constant desire to eat. the
good things she carried, for in a dainty way she
was something of a glutton, and loved to feast on
sweets, though frequent headaches was the penalty
she paid. Such tempting bits of cake, half-eaten

jellies, and untouched ices as she had to yield up
to the colored women who washed the dishes and
ate "de leaving's" with aggravating relish before
her eyes! These lost tidbits haunted her even
when she took her own lunch, and to atone for the
disappointment she ate so much that her compan-
ions no longer wondered that she was as plump as
a partridge.
O4 the third day the novelty had worn off, and
they all felt that they would like to sit down and
rest. Kate was tired of tossing her curls and trying
to look unconscious; Kitty hated the sound of the
little bells, and scowled every time she had to an-
swer one; Cathy had a fit of dyspepsia, which
spoilt all her pleasure, and each secretly wished
the week was over.
"Three more days of it! Do you think we shall
hold out? asked Kate, as they were preparing to
go home after a very hard day, for the fair was a
great success, and had been thronged from opening
to close.
I wont give in as long as I have a foot to stand
on, and Mrs. Somerset may glare at me as much as
she likes when I smash the dishes," said Kitty, ex-
ulting in her naughty little soul over one grand
avalanche by which she had distinguished herself
that evening.
I shall if I can, but I don't wont to see ice-
cream nor smell coffee again for a year. How peo-
ple can stuff as they do is a wonder to me," sighed
Cathy, holding her hot head in her cold hands.
Do you suppose Grandma knows all we have
been doing?" said Kitty, thinking of an imperti-
nent reply she had made to the much-enduring
Mrs. Somerset that day.
I hope not ejaculated Cathy, remembering
the salad she had gobbled behind a screen, and
the macaroons now hidden in her pocket.
"She is n't here, but perhaps some one is
watching us for her. Would n't that be dread-
ful ?" suggested Kate, devoutly hoping no one in
the secret had seen her when she stood so long
at the art-table, where the sun shone on her pretty
hair, and Miss Wilde's ugly terra cotta costume set
off her own delicate dress so well.
We 'd better be careful and not do anything
very bad, for we don't seem to have a chance to do
anything particularly good," said Kitty, resolving
to smile when called, and to try and keep six orders
in her head at once.
I don't believe we shall any of us get the
pearls, and I dare say Grandma knew it. Fairs
are stupid, and I never mean to tease to help with
another," said Cathy, dismally, for dyspepsia
dimmed even the prospect of unlimited dainties
on the morrow, and did Grandmamma a good turn,
as I dare say she expected it would.




I shall keep on trying, for I do want them very
much, and I know what I can do to earn them, but
I wont tell," and Kate tucked away her curls as if
done with vanity forever, for the dread of losing
the pearls set her to thinking soberly.
Next morning she appeared with only a glimpse
of yellow ripples under the lace of her cap, kept in
the cafi, and attended to her work like a well-
trained waiter. The others observed it and laughed
together, but secretly followed her good example
in different ways Kitty by being very docile, and
Cathy by heroically lunching on bread and butter.

to rest here awhile, and let Alice take your place,
my dear?" asked Miss Dutton as she sipped her
tea, while Kate affably chatted with a bright little
girl, who looked decidedly out of place behind the
piles of knit shirts and Shaker socks.
"Yes, indeed, if she likes. Take my cap and
apron; your dress is blue, so they match nicely.
Our busy time is over, so you will get along without
any trouble. I shall be glad to rest."
As she spoke, Kate stepped behind the table, and,
when Alice was gone, sat contentedly down under a
row of piece-bags, dusters, and bibs, well pleased to


Kate felt better for the little effort, and when she
was sent to carry a cup of tea to Miss Dutton, after
the hurry was over, she skipped around the back
way, and never looked to see if any one's eyes fol-
lowed her admiringly.
Miss Dutton was a little old maid, whose booth
was near the cafe, in a quiet corner, because her
useful articles did not make much show, though
many were glad to buy them after wasting money
on fancy things.,
Here is a young friend of mine who is longing
to stir about. You look very tired ; don't you want

be obliging in such a convenient manner. Miss
Dutton chatted about the fair in her pleasant way,
till she was called off, when she left her money-box
and booth in the girl's care till her return.
An old lady came and bought many things, glad
to find useful articles, and praised the pretty shop-
woman for making change so well, saying to her
companion as she went away:
"A nice, well-bred girl, keeping modestly in her
place. I do dislike to see young girls flaunting
about in public."
Kate smiled to herself, and was glad to be where


she was just then. But a few minutes later she
longed to flaunt about," for there was a sudden
stir; some one said eagerly, "The English swells
have come," and everybody turned to look at a
party of ladies and gentlemen who were going the
rounds, escorted by the managers of the fair.
Kate stood up in a chair to watch the fine people,
but without thinking of deserting her post till she
saw them going into the cafe.
"There! I forgot that they were coming to-day,
and now I shall not have the fun of waiting on
them. It is too bad! Alice has my place, and
does n't know how to wait, and is n't half so --"
She did not finish the sentence aloud, for she was
going to say, pretty as I." "She ought to come
back and let me go; I can't leave till she does.
I depended on it. How provoking everything is!"
and in her vexation Kate pulled down a shower of
little flannel petticoats upon her head.
This had a soothing effect, for when she turned
to put them up she saw a square hole cut in the
cambric which parted this stall from the cafe, and,
peeping in, she could see the British lions feed,
while a well-dressed crowd looked on with the want
of manners for which America is famous.
"Well, this is some comfort," thought Kate,
staring with all her eyes at the jolly, red-faced
gentleman, who was ordering all sorts of odd
things, and the stout lady in the plain dress,
who ate with an appetite which did honor to the
English aristocracy.
"That is Lord and Lady Clanrobert, and the
fine folks only the people in waiting, I suppose.
Now, just see Kitty laugh! I wonder what he
said to her. And there is Alice, never doing a
thing at her table, when it ought to be cleared
at once. Cathy takes good care of my lady;
she knows where the nice things are, and how
to set them out. If only I were there, how I would
sail about, and show them one pretty girl, at
Kate was too much excited to be ashamed of
that last speech, though made only to herself, for
at that moment she saw Miss Dutton coming back,
and hastened to hang up the little petticoats and
resume her seat, trying to look as if nothing
had happened.
"Now, run if you like, my dear. I'm sorry
to have kept you so long, for I suppose you want
to see the grandees. Go, and tell Alice to come
back, if you are rested," said the old lady, bustling
in, with a sharp glance over her glasses.
Kate never knew what put the idea into her
head, but she followed a sudden impulse, and
turned a selfish disappointment into a little pen-
ance for her besetting sin.
No, thank you; I will stay till she comes, and

not spoil her fun. I've had my share, and it
wont hurt me to keep quiet a little longer," she
said, quickly, and began to sort red mittens, to
hide the color that suddenly came into her cheeks,
as if all the forgotten blushes were returning at
"Very well, dear; I am glad to keep such a
clever helper," and Miss Dutton began to scribble
in a little book, as if putting down her receipts.
Presently the crowd came streaming out again,
and, after making a few purchases, the English
party left and peace was restored. Then Alice
came flying up in great excitement.
"Oh, it was such fun! The fine folks came
to our tables and were so nice. My lady said,
' Me dear,' to us, and the lord said he had never
been so well served in his life, and he must fee
the waiters; and after they went out, one of the
young men came back and gave us each one
of these delicious bonbon boxes. Was n't it
sweet of them ? "
Kate bit her lips as she looked at the charming
little casket, all blue satin, lace, looking-glass, and
gold filigree on the outside, and full of the most
delicate French confectionery; for it was just one
of the things young girls delight in, and she
found it hard not to say, "I ought to have it,
for you took my place."
But Alice looked so proud and pleased, and
it was such a trifle, after all, she was ashamed
to complain; so she called up a smile, and said
Yes, it is lovely, and will be just the thing to
keep trinkets in when the candy is gone. These
elegant boxes are what grown-up young ladies get
at Christmas; so you will feel quite grand when
you show yours."
She tried to look as usual, but Alice saw that
something was amiss, and, suddenly thinking what
it might be, exclaimed eagerly: I truly did n't
know they were coming when I took your place,
and in the flurry I forgot to run to ask if you
wanted to go back. Please take the box; you
would have had it but for me. Do-I shall feel
so much better if you will, and forgive my
Kate was naturally generous, and this apology
made it all right, so her smile was genuine as she
put the pretty toy away, saying heartily this time:
"No, indeed; you did the work, and shall keep
the fee. I don't mind now, though I did want to
see the fun, and felt cross for a minute. I don't
wonder you forgot."
"If you wont take the box, you must the
candy. I don't care for it, and you shall go
halves. There, please do, you dear, good-natured
thing," cried Alice, emptying the bonbons into a



pretty basket she had lately bought, and giving it
to Kate with a kiss.
This peace-offering was accepted with a good
grace, and, when she had resumed her cap and
apron, Kate departed, carrying with her something
sweeter than the bonbons in her basket, for two
pair of eyes followed her with an expression far
more flattering than mere admiration, and she felt
happier than if she had waited on a dozen lords
and ladies. She said nothing to her cousins, and
when they condoled with her on the loss she had
sustained, she only smiled, and took a sugar-plum
from her store, as if determined that no foolish re-
gret should embitter her small sacrifice.
Next day Cathy, in a most unexpected manner,
found an opportunity for self-denial, and did not
let it slip. She had lightened many a weary mo-
ment by planning what she should buy with her
ten dollars. Among various desirable things at
the fair was a certain green-and-white afghan,
beautifully embroidered with rose-buds. It was
just ten dollars, and after much hesitation she had
decided to buy it, feeling sure Grandma would
consider it a useful purchase. Cathy loved cozy
warmth like a cat, and pleased herself by imagin-
ing the delightful naps she would take under the
pretty blanket, which so nicely matched the roses
on her carpet and the chintz on the couch in her
charming room at home.
"I '11 have it, for green suits my complexion, as
the milkmaid said, and I shall lie and read and
rest for a week after all this trotting, so it will be
nice to cover my tired feet. I '11 go and get it the
minute I am off duty," she thought, as she sat
waiting for customers during the dull part of the
afternoon. Her chair was near the door of the
temporary kitchen, and she could hear the colored
women talk as they washed dishes at the table
nearest her.
I told Jinny to come 'fore dark, and git a good
warmin' when she fetched the clean towels. Them.
pore childern is most perished these cold nights,
and I aint been able to git no blankets yet. Rent
had to be paid, or out we goes, and work is hard to
find these times; so I most give up when the chil-
dern fell sick," said an anxious-looking woman,
glancing from the bright scene before her to the
wintry night coming on without.
"'Pears to me things aint give round even-like.
Some of these ladies has heaps of blankets, I aint
a doubt, laying idle, and it don't occur to 'em we
might like a few. I would n't ask for red-and-blue
ones, with 'mazin' fine flowers and things worked
on 'em; I 'd be mighty thankful for a pair of
common ones for three or four dollars, or even a
cheap comfortable. My old mammy is with me
now, and suffers cruel with her bones, poor creeter,

and I can't bear to take my cloak off her bed, so
I 'm gittin' my death with this old dud of- a
The other woman coughed as she gave a pull to
the poor covering over her thin shoulders, and cast
an envious look at the fur cloaks hanging in the
ladies' room.
I hope she wont steal any of them," thought
Cathy, adding pitifully to herself, as she heard the
cough and saw the tired faces, I wonder they
don't, poor things It must be dreadful to be cold
all night. I'll ask Mamma to give them some
blankets, for I know I shall think about the sick
children and the old woman, in my own nice bed,
if I don't do something."
Here a Topsy-looking girl entered the kitchen,
and went straight to the fire, putting up a pair of
ragged boots to dry, and shivering till her teeth
chattered, as she warmed her hands and rolled her
big eyes about what must have seemed to her a
paradise of good things.
"Poor child! I don't suppose she ever saw so
much cake in her life. She shall have some. The
sick ones can eat oranges, I know, and I can buy
them all without leaving my work. I '11 surprise
her and make her laugh, if I can."
Up got Cathy, and, going to the great refresh-
ment-table, bought six fine oranges and a plateful
of good, solid cakes. Armed with these letters of
introduction, she appeared before the astonished
Jinny, who stared at her as if she were a new sort
of angel in cap and apron, instead of wings and
Will you have these, my dear? I heard your
mother say the babies were sick, and I think you
would like some of our goodies as well as they,"
she said, smiling, as she piled her gifts in Jinny's
outstretched arms.
Bless your kind heart, miss, she aint no words
to thank you," cried the mother, beaming with
gratitude, while Jinny could only show every white
tooth, as she laughed and bit into the first thing
that came handy. "It's like manny from the skies
to her, pore lamb; she don't git good vittles often,
and them babies will jest scream when they sees
them splendid oranges."
As Mrs. Johnson gave thanks, the other woman
smiled also, and looked so glad at her neighbor's
pleasure, that Cathy, having tasted the sweets of
charity, felt a desire to do more, and, turning to
Mrs. Smith, asked in a friendly tone:
"What can I send to your old mother? It is
Christmas time, and she ought not to be forgotten
when there is such a plenty here."
A little mess of tea would be mighty welcome,
honey. My old mammy lived in one of the fust
families down South, and is used to genteel ways;



so it comes hard on her now, for I can't give her
no luxuries, and she's ninety year old the twenty-
fust of next Jenniwary," promptly responded Mrs.
Smith, seeing that her hearer had a tender heart
and a generous hand.
She shall have some tea, and anything else
you think she would like. I '11 have a little basket
made up for her, and tell her I wish her a merry
Then, hearing several bells ring impatiently,
Cathy hurried away, leaving behind her three grate-
ful hearts, and Jinny speechless still with joy and
cake. As she went to and fro, Cathy saw the dark
faces always smiling at her, and every order she
gave was attended to instantly by the willing hands
of the two women, so that her work seemed light-
ened wonderfully, and the distasteful task grew
When the next pause came she found that
she wanted to do more, for a little food was not
much, and the cloak on old Mammy's bed haunted
her. The rosy afghan lost its charm, for it was an
unnecessary luxury, and four blankets might be
got for less than that one small one cost.
I wonder what they would do if I should give
them each five dollars. Grandma would like it,
and I feel as if I should sleep warmer if I covered
up those poor old bones and the sick babies,"
thought Cathy, whose love of creature comforts
taught her to sympathize with the want of them.
A sudden glow at her heart made her eyes fill, her
hand go straight to her pocket, and her feet to the
desk where the checks were handed in.
"Please change this for two fives. Gold, if you
have it-money looks more in pretty, bright pieces,"
she said, as the lady obeyed, wondering what the
extravagant little girl was going to buy now.
Shall I ? asked Cathy, as she walked away
with two shining coins in her hand. Her eye went
to the kitchen-door, out of which Jinny was just
going, with a great basket of soiled towels in one
hand and the precious bundle in the other, while
her mother was saying, as she pulled the old cape
Run along, chile, and don't forgit to lay the
pieces of carpet on the bed, when you tucks up the
babies. It's awful cold, and I can't be home till
twelve to see to 'em."
That settled the question in Cathy's mind at
once, and, wishing the fives were tens, she went to
the door, held out a hand to either woman, saying
sweetly: This is for blankets. It is my own;
please take it," and vanished before the astonished
creatures could do more than take the welcome
money and begin to pour out their thanks.
Half an hour afterward she saw the little afghan
going off on the arm of Miss Dutton, and smiled as

she thought how deliciously warm her old down
coverlet would feel when she remembered her in-
vestment in blankets that day.
Kitty's trial came on the last night of the fair,
and seemed a very hard one at the time, though
afterward she was ashamed to have felt it such an
affliction. About nine o'clock her mother came to
her, saying anxiously:
"The carriage is here, and I want you to go
right home. Freddy's cold is so bad I'm afraid
of croup. Nurse is away, and Mary Ann knows
nothing about it. You do, and I can trust you to
watch and send for me if he grows worse. I can
not leave yet, for all the valuable things on my
table must first be taken care of. Now go, like a
good girl, and then I shall feel easy."
"Oh, Mamma, how can I? We are to have
a supper at eleven, and I know something nice is
to happen-bouquets from the managers, because
we have held out so well. Mary Ann will take
care of Freddy, and we shall be home by twelve,"
cried Kitty, in dismay at losing all the fun.
"Now, Kitty, don't be disobedient. I've no
time to argue, and you know that dear little boy's
life is of more importance than hundreds of suppers.
Before midnight is the time to watch, and keep
him warm, and give him his pellets regularly,
so that he may not have another attack. I will
make it up to you, dear, but I shall not have
a moment's peace unless you go; Mary Ann is so
careless, and Freddy minds you so well. Here
are your things. Help me through to-night, and
I don't think I will ever undertake another fair,
for I am tired to death."
Kitty took off her little cap and put on her
hood without a word, let her mother wrap her
cloak around her and walk with her to the door
of the hall, giving last directions about draughts,
spongia, wet bandages, and hot bottles, till she
was shut out in the cold with thanks and a kiss
of maternal relief. She was so angry that she
had not dared to speak, and nothing but her love
for her little brother made it possible for her to
yield without open rebellion. All the way home
she fretted inwardly, and felt much ill-used; but
when Freddy held out his arms to her, begging
her to "tuddle me, cause my torp is so bad,"
she put away her anger, and sang the restless
child to sleep as patiently as if no disappoint-
ment made her choke a bit now and then.
When all was quiet and Mary Ann on guard,
Kitty had time to think of her own trials, and
kept herself awake imagining the pretty supper,
the vote of thanks, and the merry breaking up in
which she had no part. A clock striking ten
reminded her to see if Freddy had taken his
medicine, and, stealing into the nursery, she saw




why her mother sent her home. Careless Mary
Ann was sound asleep in the easy-chair, a door
had swung open, and a draught blew over the
bed where the child lay, with all the clothes
kicked off in his restless sleep, and the pellets
standing untaken on the table.
"I don't wonder Mamma felt anxious, and it's
lucky I know what to do. Mary Ann, go to bed;
you are of no use. I have had experience in nurs-
ing, and I will take care of Master Freddy."
Kitty vented her vexation in a good shake of the
girl's stout shoulders, and sent her off with an air
of importance funny to see. Then she threw her-
self into her task with all her heart, and made the
baby so comfortable that he slept quietly, in spite
of the cough, with his chubby hand in hers. Some-
thing in the touch of the clinging fingers quieted
all impatience, the sight of the peaceful face made
her love her labor, and the thought that any care-
lessness might bring pain or danger to the house-
hold darling filled her heart with tender fears and
a glad willingness to give up any pleasure for his
sake. Sitting so, Kitty remembered Grandma's
letter, and owned that she was right, for many
things in the past week proved it, and Mamma
herself felt that she should be at home.
"I shall not get the pearls, for I have n't done
anything good, unless I count this," said Kitty,
kissing the little hand she held. Grandma wont
know it, and I did n't keep account of the silly
things I have left undone. I wonder if Miss Dutton
could have been watching us. She was every-
where with her raffle-book, and smiled and nodded
at us like a dear old mandarin every time we met."

Kitty's mind would have been set at rest on that
point if she could have seen Miss Dutton at that
moment, for, after a chat with Mamma, the old lady
had trotted off to her own table, and was making
the following singular entry in her raffle-book:
"C. No. 3. Ordered home; went without com-
plaint; great disappointment; much improved in
docility; evidently tried hard all the week to obey.
Good record."
No one else saw thatbookbut Grandmamma, and
she read in it three neatly kept records of that
week's success, for Miss Dutton had quick eyes,
ears, feet, and wits, and did her work well, thanks
to her peep-hole, and the careless tongues and
artless faces of girls who tell secrets without know-
ing it.
On Christmas morning, each of the cousins
looked anxiously among her many gifts for the red
case with the golden C on it. None of them
found it, but Kate discovered the necklace in a
bonbon box far finer than the one she lost; Cathy
found the pretty afghan pinned together with the
cross; and on a fresher nosegay than any the man-
agers gave their little maids, Kitty saw the earrings
shining like drops of frozen dew. A note went
with each gift, all alike, and all read with much
contentment by the happy girls, as they owned the
justice of the divided reward:

MY DEAR: The trial has succeeded better
than I thought, for each has done well; each de-
serves a little prize, and each will, I think, take
both pride and pleasure in her share of Grand-
mamma's love and Grandmamma's pearls."



ACROSS the blue sky together
Raced three little clouds one day;
The Sun they had passed at noon-time,
The west was a league away.
" Oh, he is so slow," they whispered,
So slow, and so far behind,
We three can be first at sunset
If only we have a mind."

They laughed to themselves in triumph,
They took hold of hands and flew;
But oh, what a sad disappointment
They afterward found and knew!
For this they had quite forgotten,
As they hurried along through the air:
There never can be a sunset
Till the sun himself is there !



YES, the snow-birds had a Christ-mas-tree at our house last year-a
real tree, just big e-nough for the dear lit-tle things. I '11 tell you about it.
We were as hap-py as we could be a-round our own beau-ti-ful tree,
when all at once Roy. gave a shout, and point-ed to the win-dow. (Roy is
my lit-tlest broth-er. He has love-ly brown hair, and it's banged in front and
hangs way down be-hind. Mam-ma says he is the pet of the house, or that
Lulu and he are the pets of the house. For Lulu looks ver-y much like
Roy, and has the same kind of love-ly hair, and it's banged in front and
long be-hind, just like Roy's. Only Lulu is old-er than Roy.)
Well, when Roy point-ed to the win-dow that morn-ing, he called
out: ."'See! See! they want a Kis-mas-tee, too!" And we all looked
a-round, and what do you think? There on the win-dow-sill were four
love-ly lit-tle snow-birds, look-ing in at our tree And they would peck,
peck, at the pane, as if they want-ed us to open the win-dow.
"Let 'em in! Let 'em in!" shout-ed Lulu, and she ran to raise the
win-dow. But the lit-tle birds were a-fraid of her, and flew a-way.
But they did not fly ver-y far a-way on-ly to a tree out in the yard.
And we o-pened the win-dow andcalled, Bird-ie! Bird-ie !" a-gain and a-gain,
and tried ev-ery way we knew to get them to come in. But just then it
be-gan to snow real hard, and the lit-tle birds flew down to a lit-tle, low
ev-er-green, and a-way in-to the cen-ter of it, where the snow could n't fall
on them.
But the best thing is to come yet. Lulu thought of it. Just when
we said the poor lit-tle birds would have a real dull Christ-mas-day, Lulu
shout-ed out: Oh, I know! We '11 make them a Christ-mas-trep of their
own, and take it out and give it to them there in the ev-er-green."
And then Lulu got Mam-ma to cut off a lit-tle bough from our Christ-
mas-tree, and she stood it up in a paper box, and packed the box all
a-round with pret-ty blue pa-per, so that the bough would stand up straight
all by itself. And then she hung the lit-tle tree all o-ver with bread-crumbs,
and, the first thing we knew, there it was, a per-fect lit-tle Snow-birds'
Christ-mas-tree !
Then Lulu and Roy put on their pret-ty, new red caps, and their warm
coats, and they took that lit-tle Christ-mas-tree out in-to the yard, and up
to the ev-er-green where the birds were, and they pushed the limbs a-way,





and set the lit-tle box and the lit-tle tree in a cor-ner of the ev-er-
green, where it stood up straight. And-if you '11 be-lieve it-those
birds nev-er flew a-way at all, but looked just as if they ex-pect-ed it
all a-long! And Lulu and Roy went a few steps a-way, and turned a-
round. and stood per- fect-ly still. and in a
min-ute all our -"" of those lit-cle



birds flew \dow\\n. and h tr, ed
them-s ,l\ 'es lrom theLir "0MO lX,-t-L) !it-de Christ-
mas-tree, and were just as hap-py o-ver it as we were o-ver ours. Lulu
and Roy stood out there in the snow and watched them ev-er so long.
And we could see them from the win-dow, too.
We hope the same lit-tie birds will come back this year, and if they do,
we 're go-ing to give them an-oth-er Christ-mas-tree. Would n't you ?



indeed. Changed !- well, I 'd like to know Why,
I 'm told that a boy of this day, a real boy of the
period, would consider himself a much-abused
fellow if he did n't find on his Christmas-tree
a ball, a six-bladed knife, a scientific top, a box
of carpenter's tools, a printing-press, a jig-saw,
a sled, a bicycle, ice-skates, roller-skates, a Punch-
and-Judy show, a telephone, a steam-engine, a
microscope, a steam-boat, a working train of cars,
a box of parlor magic, a pistol, a performing
acrobat, a real watch, a gold scarf-pin, gold
cuff-buttons, a bound volume of ST. NICHOLAS,
and twenty or thirty other books, more or less,
besides a pocket-book with gold money in it,
and a pair of kid gloves.
I may have forgotten something," added the
Deacon, wiping his brow, "but, so far as I can
make out, that's the proper thing for an average
boy's Christmas, nowadays.
"As for the girls," the good man went on,
raising his voice, as for the girls-as for "
How she did it, I do not know; but that wonder-
ful Little School-ma'am actually stopped the pro-


OH, tell me, children who have seen
The Christmas-tree in bloom,
What is the very brightest thing
That sparkles in the room?
The candles? No. The tinsel? No.
The skates and shining toys?
Not so, indeed; nor yet the eyes
Of happy girls and boys.
It 's Christmas day itself, my dears!
It 's Christmas day alone-
The brightest gift, the gladdest gift
The world has ever known.

It's coming, my ruddy crowd--it 's coming!
It 's sparkling in the air already and stirring in
'every heart. The dear Little School-ma'am is knit-
ting the loveliest pair of striped mittens for the
Deacon, and all the children of the Red School-
house are playing and whispering and working
like things possessed. There '11 be crumbs scat-
tered on the snow for my birds soon, depend on
it-and.maybe Christmas plums and goodies.
Oh that reminds me of something.

CHANGED exclaimed Deacon Green to the
dear Little School-ma'am, a year ago come Christ-
mas, "I should think they had changed. Why,
many's the time I 've heard my dear old father
tell how, years ago, when he and Aunt Mary were
children living on their father's farm in old Eng-
land, the least little present used to delight them.
"They were well-to-do people, too, the Greens
were; but to find one book or a ball or a
shepherd's pipe in his Christmas stocking would
make Father perfectly happy when he was a boy;
and his sister thought a box of sugar-plums, or a
new doll, or any one pretty gimcrack, was a joy

ceedings then and there. So, to this day your
Jack does n't know what an average girl of the
present day does, might, could, would, or should
find on a Christmas-tree.

HERE are two of the most interesting letters that
have come in answer to your Jack's' question
about the durion. The returned Burmese mission-
ary and little Paul (who is only eleven years old)
differ just enough to show that their accounts are
drawn from actual knowledge-and they agree
more than enough to make us all long for a taste

*See ST. NICHOLAS for September, page 900.




of the queer thing that is so pleasant in itself, and
yet, as I 'm told, takes its name from thorn,"
which in Malayan is called dury.


DEAR JACK: I can tell you about the durion, or, as it is some-
times called, the dorean, for I have eaten many of them, and' oh,
how I wish I could get one now I was a missionary for six years
in Burmah, where two of your readers, Edith and Agnes, were
Well, about the durion. It is a fruit of oval shape, from ten to
twelve inches in length, and from six to eight inches in diameter. It
is of a light green color, and, when fully grown, the outer shell is
covered with spines or thorns half an inch in length. These thorns
are very tough and strong.
If any of your little readers will look at the seed-pod of the
"Jamestown weed," or, as the boys call it, the "jimson-weed," they
will have a good representation, in miniature, of the durion.
The interior is divided into five sections or compartments, in which
lie rows of seeds about an inch long, surrounded by the delicious
pulp, which is what we eat. Oh, the luxury of this pulp! Its
delicate yet pungent flavor is almost indescribable.
The nearest approach to an imitation which I can imagine would
be to take the sweetest bananas, the richest pine-apples, the most
juicy of oranges, some peaches and cream, flavor the mixture with
some rare spice, and you would have somethingwhich might resem-
ble a very poor durion. It is twelve years since I bought my last
durion in the bazar in Rangoon, Burmah, but its remembrance
makes my mouth water as I write. How I wish I could get
I asked the natives why the outer shell was so thorny. They
said that it was to keep the monkeys from eating the fruit. Poor
monkeys how I pity them. The only durions they can eat are the
overripe ones, which fall from the trees and burst open.
One strange thing about the durion is its odor. This, to many,
is offensive in the last degree; yet, strange to say, others can not de-
tect in it anything disagreeable. As for me, I could never smell any-
thing but a pine-apple flavor, very strong, but very appetizing; yet a
dear brother-missionary, declared that a durion smelled exactly like
"a very dead rat, and a musk-rat at that."
It is needless to say that this brother did not like durions. I
have often tried to detect the disagreeable odor, but in vain; yet I
once saw a party of new residents put to flight from the dinner-table
by the solemn entry of a native servant, bearing what the host
regarded as the chief feature of the dessert-a magnificent durion.
You say "the durion is a native of Borneo." This is true, but it
grows to perfection in Southern Burmah and the Malay peninsula.
The King of Burmah sends every year special steamers to Maul-
main, Burmah, to procure the most royal specimens of this right
royal fruit.
The tree is a hardy one, and I think the only difficulty in raising
it under glass would be to get a large enough house, as it grows
about sixty feet in height.
There is, as the children say, "ever so much more" about the
durion, which I will leave unsaid; but, hlow I wish 1 could get
one! R. M. LUTHER, Philadelphia, Pa.


BROOKLINE, MASS., Sept. 5, 1882.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I read in the September ST. NICHO-
LAS that you wanted to know about an East Indian fruit called
the durion. My father, who has lived out in the East Indies,
told me about it, and I am writing what he told me.
He says he has seen the durion in British Burmah, and he believes
it is found throughout the Malay peninsula. The Burmese are
wonderfully fond of it. As the season approaches, the natives in
Rangoon and Maulmain talk about the durion so much that foreign-
ers who hear of it for the first time think the natives have gone
crazy over the fruit. The love for the durion is not confined to the
natives alone, for Europeans living in Burmah become mastered by
the appetite, and are as eager as the natives for the first durion. The
durion, as seen in Burmah, is from nine to fifteen inches long, and
from seven to nine inches in diameter, and has an oval shape. It
is very heavy, and is covered outside with long, sharp thorns, about
as close together as those on a horse-chestnut. There are not very
many durions in Burmah, and they are wanted so much that two or
three rupees ($c.oo or $i.50) are often paid for one. Durions are
usually sold before they are ripe, and the buyer carries the fruit
home with a delight that one who has not seen it can not under-
stand. Then it is hung up to ripen, generally on the veranda, out
of reach of the children, who are wild for it. Now comes one of
the strangest things about the fruit: as it becomes nearly ripe, it
emits a horrible odor, which is so nauseating that, when my father
was there, passengers on steamers in those waters were absolutely
forbidden to bring a durion aboard. In afew days the fruit is ready
to eat, and the outer husk comes off in regular sections, lengthwise

of the fruit. When the hull, which is about half an inch thick, is
taken off, the eatable parts of the fruit are seen inclosed in a sort of
pocket, formed by thin, white partitions that run the length of the
fruit. The eatable part is a rich, golden yellow. It completely fills
the compartment, but is itself divided into sections about two inches
long, each section containing a smooth, hard stone. The fruit is
eaten by taking out a section with the fingers. The taste, as my
father describes it, is like the very richest custard, flavored with
coffee and garlic, and smelling with the traces of the smell that it
had when ripening. It is reported that some years ago the King
of Burmah sent a steamer from Ava to 1Maulmain for a load of
durions, and on her return so many had spoiled that those that
were left cost him about a thousand dollars apiece. But the King
and the court were satisfied to gratify their longing for durions, even
at that price. Your constant reader, PAUL C. WEST.


T- 7

CHICAGO, Oct. 2, 1882.
DEAR JACK: Please tell me if "Jabberwocky," mentioned in that
poem in the ST. NICHOLAS, is a book, and who wrote it, and what
it means, and if English-speaking children can understand it?
I will look in your pages for your answer. I know other children
all over the country will be glad to know, unless they are better
informed than ROSE BARROWS.

Well, well! Jack thought everybody knew
about the Jabberwocky! Now, my dear little
snarks-I mean chicks--who 'll tell Alice--I
mean Rose-about the Looking-Gl-I mean
Jabberwocky ?




IF, at first, we had any doubts that teachers and school-boys and
school-girls all over the land would welcome our plan of suggesting
to our readers four subjects for school compositions each month, we
certainly have none now. From all parts of the country the response
of the young folk and their instructors has been so hearty that we
feel ourselves fairly enlisted in a common cause. A great many
compositions have been received at the ST. NICHOLAS editorial
rooms, some of them admirable, and almost all showing painstaking
and a careful study of the picture offered as a theme.
Next month we shall print the composition that seems to us to be
the best, and, on the whole, the most likely to interest the majority of
our readers. Meantime, we thank the young writers heartily, and
congratulate them upon their zeal and voluntary industry. We do
not propose to criticise these scores of compositions. If our sug-
gestion has been carried out, nearly all of them, by this time, have
been presented in school to the respective teachers of the writers,
who are better able than we to note the excellences, point out the

defects, and give needed advice and instruction. In future, we do
not ask even to see the manuscripts, excepting when we offer a pict-
ure in connection with a subject. Then we shall be glad to see the
compositions, with the view of selecting one for publication. And
we should like very much if, in writing compositions, all who choose
the ST. NICHOLAS subjects will let us know of the fact. It will
be a pleasure to know that hundreds of boys and girls in this wide
country and elsewhere are taking new interest in what is often a
trying part of their school labors, from the fact that they are
writing in concert, and "wrestling" with similar points and diffi-
This month, the subjects offered to you, with the compliments of

THE report of the Agassiz Association is unavoidably crowded out of The Letter-box this month, but a partial report will be found
upon page 12 of the advertising department, just before the frontispiece. We are very sorry to have to omit some of the most interesting
letters, but they will be included in the report printed in the January number.


THE Longfellow Memorial Association has been organized in
Cambridge, Mass., to provide a suitable memorial to the poet near
his old home. There is a piece of land opposite the house in which
he lived, which was kept open during Mr. Longfellow's life-time, that
he might have a free view of the Charles River and the hills beyond.
It was in a room looking out upon this favorite scene that he wrote
"Excelsior," "The Children's Hour," "Maidenhood," and other
poems which have made his name dear to the young, and the
Association aims to buy the land, lay it out as a garden, build there
a memorial to the poet, and keep the place, so endeared by associa-
tion, forever open to the public.
The contribution of one dollar or more makes one an honorary
member of the Association; but, in order to give the children
throughout America a share in this memorial, the Association invites
contributions of ten cents. In order that it may be made easier to
collect and forward these gifts, teachers and superintendents are
requested to act as agents. For every ten such subscriptions a
package of ten memorial cards will be mailed to the address of the
sender, to be distributed to the several contributors. The card con-
tains an excellent portrait of Mr. Longfellow, a view of the house in
which he lived, and one of his poems in a fac-simile of his hand-
writing. It is also thought that a package of these cards may some-
times be found an acceptable and appropriate present from teachers
to scholars.
Contributions should be sent to John Bartlett, Treasurer, P. O.
Box 1590, Boston, Mass. Single cards will not be sent.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Will you please tell me if the picture of
Dorothy Reed in the October number was taken from photograph.
If it was, does she live in New York? All the boys that I know,
who have seen the engraving, have fallen dead in love with her,
including myself, and all the girls think she looks "just too awfully
sweet." I think that it is the loveliest portrait of a girl I have ever
seen anywhere.-Yours truly, E. F. P.
E. F. P.-Dorothy's picture came to us all the way from Eng-
land. It is an excellent likeness, however, and the original is liv-
ing in -- But no; eighty thousand boys would be too many
admirers, and if they all should try to call on New Year's Day, what
would poor Dorothy do! Besides, E. T. might object to our giving
the lady's address to so many boys.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Seeing an article in the September "Jack-
in-the-Pulpit about woven wind reminds me of an article I read
about a fabric of the same kind which was made in Greece. A lady
once had a wedding-veil of such length that it would trail upon the
ground for several yards. Yet a case representing an English wal-
nut would contain it; but it would not unless folded in the same
manner as the workman had folded it. A. H.

WE printed in The Letter-box" of last month a copy of a page
from the new edition of ST. NICHOLAS in Arabic, and a brief item
telling how the translation came to be made. But the Rev. H. H.
Jessup, in a letter written since the issue of the November number,
gives so many interesting facts in connection with the Arabic edition
that we must present to our readers the following extracts from his
S* Concerning the Arabic ST. NICHOLAS, we have published
several illustrated books in Arabic during the past ten years, but none
of exactly this style, and no illustrated book has ever been printedin
Arabic equal to this in the character of its cuts, its superior paper,
and execution. It was designed, as was the Baby Days' in
English, for the Arab babies. The learned among the Arabs look
with horror upon the attempt to bring, down the stately Arabic to
the comprehension of children, but we believe in Syria that it can be
done; and Moallim Hourani, one of the best Arabic scholars of our
time, thinks that the Arabic can be correctly written and yet be
made simple enough for the youngest readers,
"The printing of this, as well as the binding, was done at the
American Mission Press, in Beirut. The paper came fromithe estab-
lishment of Messrs. Smith & Meynier, at Fume, on the Adriatic. The
type is all cast at our Beirut American Type Foundry, by native
Arab workmen.
"I took the liberty to add to the original articles translated from
ST. NICHOLAS several of the Mother Goose rhymes, such as 'Old
Mother Hubbard,' 'The House that Jack Built,' and others, besides
introducing several of the ancient original .Arab nursery rhymes,
which are not inferior in beauty to anything in the English language.
The edition was printed just before I left Beirut, and the copy
sent to you was the first one bound. I showed a copy to the
American missionaries in Egypt on board the steamer in the harbor
ofAlexandria, June Igth, and they expressed their approbation of this
juvenile literary undertaking. There are now about 15,ooo boys
and girls in Christian schools in Syria and Palestine; and now that
the Egyptian war has ceased, and order is being restored, I doubt
not that there will be an increasing demand for a children's literature
in the Arabic language."




DEAR GIRLS AND BOYs: ST. NICHOLAS will be as happy as any
of you this Christmas. In fact, every day in the year is a small
Christmas to him, since every day brings a score or more of your
eager, affectionate letters. If you could see them all, you would own
that only a very solemn and preoccupied saint could help being
made happy by them. And we can not resist the temptation to
print a few of these letters here, though it is almost like trying to
show you the sea in a water-pail. However, the pail of water would
represent the sea, and so, if you '11 just remember that each of these
charming letters counts for a hundred more very like it, you '1
understand what a great big flock of little joys it is that comes fly-
ing in to ST. NICHOLAS from the post-boxes day after day.
We are only sorry that we- can not print all the letters, but that
would require a whole number of ST. NICHOLAS. And we must see
that the young friends who write from far away are not slighted in
the few here given. So, we 'll begin with two letters from the other
side of the world:
June 9, I882.
My DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Last Christmas Papa subscribed for
your magazine, and I think it is so interesting that I hope he will
get it for me next year. In December I crossed the ocean, and
came over here. I have been traveling, and have visited the Littoral
of France, Northern Italy, and Madrid. And when I was fatigued
I would read ST. NICHOLAS.
My sister Minnie will soon commence to read it, too, I hope. I
always wait with great impatience for the next number. I was so
happy this morning, when I received the June number! I have
already read half of it to-day.
From your constant reader, NETTIE M. T.

'DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I write to tell you that we got a copy of the
ST. NICHOLAS in London, and, although it has a different cover, in-
side it is the same old friend that we have known so many years in
America and hope soon to see again.
Your friend, NETTLE F. LITTLE.

And here is a letter which comes from a place almost as far away,
but in the opposite direction. It was written at Fort Apache,
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My father is an army officer. We see
lots of Indians every day. At first we were a little frightened to
have the squaws come in the houses, but we are used to it now.
There was an Indian battle here last year. I guess you read
about it in the papers. General Carr was in command. My papa
was wounded; he is well now. I take the ST. NICHOLAS, and
watch for it every month. We have no schools out here. I think
"Donald and Dorothy is an elegant story. This fort is up in the
mountains, with still higher ranges above it. It often rains down
here and snows up in the mountains. I must stop now.
Your constant reader, MAE G.


Next, from the pinyy woods" of Florida, comes this lovely
message of C. D. R's. :
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought I would write you a letter and
tell you that I think all the pieces in ST. NICHOLAS are just splendid.

ST. NICHOLAS could not be any better, I don't believe. It is the
best magazine for young people I have ever seen, I think.
ST. NICHOLAS is sent to me as a Christmas present from a very
kind auntie of mine. I don't know what I should do without it. I
live in the piny woods of Florida. The nearest little girl that I have
to play with lives nearly two miles away, but I don't get very lone-
some. I look forward with a great deal of pleasure to the day that
brings ST. NICHOLAS to me.-Yours truly, C, D. R.


; ; _,


And here is another letter from the sunny South, this time from a
DEAR ST. NICHOLAs: I have a little girl nine years old who is, as
are all the "brothers and sisters" (and her "cousins and her
aunts"), a devoted friend and admirer of ST. NICHOLAS. The
magazine has been a valued member of the household for eight
years. I wonder sometimes if he fills as important a position in any
other. Here he is physician as well as instructor and playfellow;
for, when Elsie's earache gets very bad she begs, Please, Mamma,
get ST. NICHOLAS and read a story, then I wont mind the pain";
and last summer, when Nannine, another daughter, had to lie for
weeks in a darkened room, with bandaged eyes, her chief comfort
to have me ask her the hard questions in the Riddle-box, or
...,1 over and over Miss Alcott's charming stories. Even black
i ;k, our boy-of-all-work, thinks he can polish the shoes better if I
I: Ihim bring his box and brush to the parlor door (you know the
.hern custom of sitting with open doors) while I read aloud
.I ... ST. NICHOLAS. And I, myself, am most grateful to this
F. I .ren's friend for its help in the nursery. P. V. B.

il i che B. knows some other grown people who like to read
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have been taking ST. NICHOLAS
for six years, and can hardly tell you how much we have
enjoyed it.
When Papa brings it home we all make a rush for it, to
see which can get it first, and its contents are enjoyed both
by the grown people and the little folks.
I think it only justice to say that the ST. NICHOLAS is
the most perfect magazine in existence.
With many kind wishes for the future prosperity of the
ST. NICHOLAS, I remain, yours sincerely, BLANCHE B.

From the host of letters from Illinois we can give only this one:

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken your dear magazine from
the very first number; and really now, it does n't seem as if we
could possibly get along without you.
There are fourof us--two boys and two girls. I am the oldestand
my little brother Allie is the youngest. We have enjoyed the stories


all the time, especially those by Miss Alcott, "Under the Lilacs,"
and "Eight Cousins." We have had all our numbers for each year
bound, and they make quite a library.
There are very many of the stories that we read again and again.
There was a picture published in the Letter-box, in one of the num-
bers a year or two ago, of a little negro boy with a brick lying at his
feet. This legend was at the foot of the picture:
This figure is a nigure
Made sick by a brick."

Little Allie used to get the book with that in it, and hunt till he found
that picture. Almost before he could talk plain, he would sit on
the floor and point first to the "nigure," and then to the "brick,"
until he actually soiled the picture, and you could see the print of a
finger on the brick, an on the little darkey boy's face.
Each number seems as good as can be, and yet, the next is sure
to be better. In the Letter-box for June, 1881, there were two
letters telling how two people succeeded in the magic dance, spoken
of in the March number of the same year. We tried it and made it
a success. It was quite amusing. We had to try two or three
times before we got the glass the right distance from the table; but
when we did the figures danced merrily.
About the time we expect the ST. NICHOLAS, the first thing that
Papa hears when he comes from up-town is, Has n't the ST. NICHO-
LAS come yet ?" And when it does come, we are all eager for the
first look at it.
Your constant and affectionate reader, JENNIE.

h d i


May K.'s letter comes from Pennsylvania, and is too good to
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like your magazine very much, and so
does my teacher-at least I think she does, because she lets us use
it to read in school instead of a Reader, which is ever so nice. I
attend a lovely little school which is held up in the tower of a house.
We four little girls in the tower call it Bellevue Tower," because
there is a beautiful view from it. But there are some things around
Scranton that spoil the scenery very much, I think: they are black
mountains. Perhaps some of the readers of the ST. NICHOLAS have
never seen them. They are made of immense piles of culm, that
look very impudent as if trying to make themselves seem as high as
We have taken the ST. NICHOLAS ever since it was started. My
sister, who is now a young lady, was the first one in the family who
took it; and now, it has been handed down to us younger members.
Did you ever hear of the little girl in England who, when her
mother told her that American children were whipped when they
were naughty, replied: "I am sorry for them if they have to be
whipped, but then I don't think they can have so bad a time, after
all, because they have the ST. NICHOLAS there."
Three cheers for the ST. NICHOLAS! Your little friend, MAY K.

An enterprising boy of Western New York has this to say:

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you ever since I was six
years old, and the longer I take you the better I like you. I take
several magazines and papers, but ST. NICHOLAS is the best of all.
Of all the continued stories that ever appeared in ST. NICHOLAS, I
like "Jack and Jill" the best. I can sympathize with Jack in his
passion for stamp collecting, but I like to collect coins and minerals
better than that. Minerals and fossils are very numerous about here,
and I have a good collection. We have a Chapter of the A. A., of
which I am the secretary.
Your faithful reader, WILLIE H. VAN A.

New York City sends us a multitude of letters, and we are very
sorry that room can not be made for more than one. But that one is
from a girl of nineteen years, who, we are glad to see, belongs to the
host of older readers who say they will never get too old to read
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been meaning to write you for along
time, to say how much I have always enjoyed you. The talks with
the dear Little School-ma'am and Jack-in-the-Pulpit are especially
interesting to me; please be sure and give them my love. Though
I am nineteen years old, still I don't feel a bit "grown-up," and
love the stories as much as ever. I wish Miss Alcott would write
another story. I like hers so much. All her characters are so
natural. A favorite amusement of mine is looking for people from
the "book world" when I am out, and often I meet Jo, Laurie, and
Amy from Little Women "(one of the loveliest books in the world),
and Rose, Mac, and Uncle Alec from Eight Cousins." I have
taken you, dear ST. NICHOLAS, since the commencement, and I
think if you could see all my bound copies in the book-case, you
would know, by the mutilated covers, they had been read and re-
read by us all. I have written a long letter now, so will say good-
bye, you dear old ST. NICHOLAS.
Your loving and constant reader, JULIE B.

And next-But no! We have hardly dipped into the mass of
welcome and cheering missives, and should like to follow with scores
in addition to those given above. But already our allotted space is
filled. "Jennie," "Julie B.," and all the hundreds of boys and girls
who have spoken of Miss Alcott's stories will be glad to see that a
short story from her pen appears in this number of ST. NICHOLAS,
and to know that she will contribute others during the year.
For your hearty and encouraging messages, dear young friends,
we can only thank you warmly, one and all, far and near, while we
rejoice in every fresh delight, inspiration, and aid that you find in the
pages of ST. NICHOLAS.

WE must make room, even in an overcrowded "Letter-box," for
these clever verses from a friendly correspondent in New York:


Once I loved little maiden,
Frolicsome and gay was she;
Said I, Prithee, pretty maiden,
Will you, will you marry me?"
All her laughter then she silenced,
And with looks and tones polite
Said, "My stock of' Patience,' kind sir,
You have now exhausted quite."

Then I tried her heart to soften.
Said I, sighing deep and long,
You'll responsible be ever,
For a noble man gone wrong."
But she answered, gayly laughing,
Giving me a wicked glance,
Much I fear your woes are due, sir,
To the 'Pirates of Penzance.'"

Then I tried the cool and lofty,
Said I'd leave her then and there,
Said I'd never so been treated
By a maiden, however fair.
But I heard in tones derisive,
As I turned me from the door,
S'Hardly ever' you should say, sir,
If you quote from Pinafore'! "

I. B. C.





'p_14 TXAGEfNY

Ago 6q~e6TIP@.

SOME COLORS FOR CHRISTMAS. In each of the twelve monograms
here given, find the letters necessary to spell a color.
A GREETING. These letters contain a greeting, and the puzzle
consists in combining the letters of the two lines in such a way as
to form the desired sentence. G. F.


I. I. THE name of a general in a very recent war. 2. Estimates.
3. A coral island. 4. A courted beauty. 5. A small island.
II. i. A Turkish governor. 2. A book of maps. 3. To come
in collision. 4. Hurry. 5. Pallid.
The first words of the two squares, when read in connection, name
a well-known military commander. FANCY.

EACH of the words described contains six letters; when these
words are placed one below another, in the order here given, the
fourth line of letters will name a personage who is very important at
the season named by the third line of letters.
CROSS-WORDS: I. An alarm-bell. 2. To draw into the lungs. 3-
To mock. 4. An old-fashioned musical instrument, resembling a
piano. 5. A heavy quality of broadcloth. 6. A plant somewhat
like mint. 7. Neglectful. 8. Marked out. 9. Vessels in which food
is served. i0. Staffs used by conductors of musical performances.
11. Wound in circles. 12. To call for in a peremptory manner. 13.
Decorations worn on helmets. G. F.


I. IN stirrup. 2. A tattered fragment. 3. A knave. 4. A
splendid exhibition. 5. To protect from danger. 6. Termination.
7. In stirrup. ISOLA.


CENTRALS (reading downward): A festival.
AcRoss: i. Wooden plates. 2. A mode of engraving. 3. A
fabulous monster. 4. A transgression. 5. In Santa Claus. 6.
Consumed. 7. A tropical fruit 8. To respire. 9. To metamor-
phose. PHIL. I. PINE.

I. UPPER SQUARE: I. An American general. 2. Severity of
climate. 3. Past. 4. Nine days after the ides in the Roman calen-
dar. 5. A lock of hair.
II. LEFT-HAND SQUARE: i. A river of England. 2. More
uncivilized. 3. To draw out. 4. Parts which connect heads with
bodies. 5. A lock of hair.
III. CENTRAL SQUARE: i. A lock of hair. 2. Proportion. 3.
A girl's name. 4. A continued attempt to gain possession. 5.
Five-eighths of a word meaning an impropriety of language or
IV. RIGHT-HAND SQUARE: I. Five-eighths of a word meaning
an impropriety of language or speech. 2. The rudimentary state
of a seed. 3. Part of the name of a famous opera by Donizetti. 4.
An eminent prophet of Israel. 5. To come to an end.
V. LOWER SQUARE: I. Five-eighths of a word meaning an
impropriety of language or speech. 2. A musical composition. 3.
A tropical fruit. 4. To eat into or away. 5. Walking-sticks.


I AM composed of thirty-three letters, and am a Spanish proverb.
My 3-23-11-17 is a river of Africa. My 27-8-25-9 1s conversation.
My 5-15-30-31-7 is a contrivance for heating. My 6-13-2-33 is indi-
gent. My 14-20-26-21-18 is an elf My 4-28-12-19 is a piece of
baked clay. My 24-32-22 is to permit. My 1x-o-29-i6 is a broad,
open vessel. PAUL OAKFORD.





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7- -



I lb. ledm

-- II. 1 sota
Irin i. I.J ri aa

. . .I . . .t, Is:
'~~'s.-A! 4-S I I I. d.i.
H. ho.,.It..1r
N.I h J the

I.4 .
7-~~~I \ -i-2

SPIRAL.-Among the guests our country hostess passes,
And from the heavy gallon jug
With courtly style and pleasant smile
Drops cider in the glasses.
DIAMOND: I. G. 2. Set. 3. Sinew. 4. General. 5. Terms.
6. Was. 7. L. NOVEL CROSS-WORD ENIGMA: Bryant. ',
NUMERICAL ENIGMA: To receive honestly is the best thanks for a i
good thing. CROss-woRD ENIGMA: Thanksgiving.
RHOMBOID. ACROSS: Scat. 2. Oral. Trim. 4. Eden.
HALF-SQUARE: i. Domino, 2. Opens. 3. Mend. 4. Ind. 5.
N.S. 6.0.
THANKSGIVING MAZE: See accompanying illustration.

were received, before October 20, from Minnie B. Murray- F. L. .
Atbush- Mama and Bae.. -
ANSWERS TO SEPTEMBER PUZZLES were received, too late for
acknowledgment in the November number, from Bella and Cora
Wehl,.Frankfort, Germany, Potrero, 12.
before October 2o, from Melissa and Theodore, x-J. W. Parker,
Gallaudet; 6-Philip Embury, Jr., 5-John Burnet Nash, x- \- ""
"Two IEsthetic Maidens," 5-B. C. R., 13-Effie K. Talboys, 6 \\ .-'
-Professor and Co., 12-Theo. Richards, i --"Alcibiades," ii-
Nellie J. Parker, 3-Clara J. Child, 13-A. G. and E. W., 7- .
D. S. Crosby, Jr., and H. W. Chandler, 8- Maggie Tolderlund, i
-"Two Subscribers," 2- Thick and Thin," 13-S. and E., 2
" Shumway," 9- Phil. I. Pine, 2- Lavinien d'Amaulis, x3-
Etta M. Taylor, I- Gertrude Lansing and Julia Wallace, 8- G6nie J. Callmeyer, 8 -Warren, 5 Snip and Snap, 7- Katie L. Robertson,
9-Clara and her Aunt, ao-Vin and Henry, 8-C. L. Slattery, i2-Florence P. Jones, --AppletonH., rz-Florence Leslie Kyte,
-"Johnston and Co.," 6-Alice Robinson, 3-David H. Dodge, i.


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