Front Cover
 The little lord of the manor
 Benevolent birds
 A Thanksgiving dinner that flew...
 Two men of Cologne
 Winter fun
 A young seamstress
 Circus extraordinary (picture)
 Sophie's secret
 Wisdom in the well
 Little Maud's story
 Captain Mayne Reid
 The lamp-lighter
 The bee-man and his original...
 Rolly's ragamuffin
 Among the pines
 The origin of the stars and...
 Willie and Rosa
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00136
 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: VID00136
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
        Page 1
        Page 2
    The little lord of the manor
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
    Benevolent birds
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
    A Thanksgiving dinner that flew away
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
    Two men of Cologne
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
    Winter fun
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
    A young seamstress
        Page 23
    Circus extraordinary (picture)
        Page 24
    Sophie's secret
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
    Wisdom in the well
        Page 29 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 30
        Page 31
    Little Maud's story
        Page 32
    Captain Mayne Reid
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
    The lamp-lighter
        Page 45
    The bee-man and his original form
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
    Rolly's ragamuffin
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
    Among the pines
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
    The origin of the stars and stripes
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
    Willie and Rosa
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
    The letter-box
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
    The riddle-box
        Page 79
        Page 80
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text



[Copyright, 1883, by THE CENTURY CO.]

A Stoy ofEvacuaton-Day.


IT was the 25th of November, 1783-a brill-
iant day, clear, crisp, and invigorating, with just
enough of frosty air to flush the eager cheeks
and nip the inquisitive noses of every boy and girl
in the excited crowd that filled the Bowery lane
from Harlem to the barriers, and pressed fast
upon the heels of General Knox's advance detach-
ment of Continental troops marching to the posi-
tion.assignedthem, near the "tea-water pump." At
some points the crowd was especially pushing and
persistent, and Mistress Dolly Duane was decidedly
uncomfortable. For little Dolly detested crowds,
as, in fact, she detested everything that interfered
with the comfort of a certain dainty little maiden
of thirteen. And she was just on the point of ex-
pressing to her cousin, young Edward Livingstone,
her regret that they had not staid to witness the
procession from the tumble-down gate-way of the
Duane country-house, near the King's Bridge road,
when, out from the crowd, came the sound of a
child's voice, shrill and complaining.
Keep off, you big, bad man," it said; "keep
off and let me pass. How dare you crowd me so,
you wicked rebels ?"
"Rebels, hey?" a harsh and mocking voice ex-
claimed. Rebels! Heard ye that, mates? Well
crowed, my little cockerel. Let 's have a look at
you," and a burly arm rudely parted the pushing
crowd and dragged out of the press a slight, dark-
haired little fellow of seven or eight, clad in velvet
and ruffles.

Put me down! Put me down, I say!" screamed
the boy, his small face flushed with passion. "Put
me down, I tell you, or I '11 bid Angevine horse-
whip you !"
"Hark to the little Tory," growled his captor.
" A rare young bird now, is n't he? Horsewhip
us, d'ye say-us, free American citizens? And
who may you be, my little beggar? ""
"I am no beggar, you bad man," cried the
child, angrily. "I am the little lord of the
"Lord of the manor Ho, ho, ho laughed
the big fellow. "Give us grace, your worship,"
he said, with mock humility. "Lord of the
manor! Look at him, mates," and he held the
struggling little lad toward the laughing crowd.
"Why, there are no lords nor manors now in free
America, my bantam."
"But I am, I tell you!" protested the boy.
"That's what my grandfather calls me -oh, where
is he? Take me to him, please: he calls me the
little lord of the manor."
"Who's your grandfather?" demanded the
"Who? Why, don't you know?" the "little
lord" asked, incredulously. "Everybody knows
my grandfather, I thought. He is Colonel Phil-
lipse, baron of Phillipsbourg, and lord of the
manor. And he'll kill you if you hurt me," he
added, defiantly.
"Phillipse, the king of Yonckers! Phillipse,


No. I.


the fit old Tory of West Chester! A prize, a
prize, mates!" shouted the bully. "What say
you? Shall we hold this young bantling hostage
for the tainted Tory, his grandfather, and when
once we get the old fellow serve him as we did
the refugee at Wall-kill t'other day?" .
"What did you do? the crowd asked.
"Faith, we tarred and feathered him well, put
a hog-yoke on his neck and a cow-bell, too, and
then rode him on a rail till he cheered for the
"Treat my grandfather like that-my good
grandfather? You shall not! you dare not! "
cried the small Phillipse, with a flood of angry tears,
as he struggled and fought in his captor's arms.
Dolly Duane's kindly heart was filled with pity
at the rough usage of the "little lord."
Oh, sir," she said, as she pushed through the
crowd and laid her hand on the big bully's arm,
"let the child go. 'T is unmannerly t9 treat him
as you do, and you 're very, '.-r i crua1."
The fellow turned roughly around and looked
down into Dolly's disturbed and protesting face.
"What, another of 'em?" he said, surlily.
"Why, the place is full of little Tories."
"No, no; no Tory I! said indignant Dolly.
"My father is Mr. Duane, and he is no Tory."
Mr. Duane, of the'Congress ? Give up the
lad to the maid." "Why harm the child ?" came
mingled voices from the crowd.
What care I for Duane! said the bully, con-
temptuously. "One man's as good as another
now in free America,-is n't he? Bah! you 're
all cowards'; but I know when I 've got a good
thing. You don't bag a Phillipse every day, I '11
warrant you."
No; but we bag other game once in a while,"
said Dolly's cousin, young Edward Livingstone,
pushing his way to her side. We bag turncoats
and thieves, and murdering runri. :et -.:,netiin-,.
even in 'free Ani i,.:' '; and we know what to do
with them when we do bag them. Friends," he
cried, turning to the crowd, do you know this
fellow ? He 's a greater prize than the little Phil-
lipse. 'T is Big Jake of the Saw-mill a Skinnerr '
one day and a 'cow-boy' next, as it suits his fancy
and as brings him booty. I know him, and so does
the water-guard. I am Livingstone, of Clermont
Manor. Let down the lad, man, or we '11 turn
you over to the town-major. He 'd like to.have a
chance at you rarely."
The crowd uttered a cry,of rage as it closed
excitedly around the burly member of the lawless
gang that had preyed upon the defenseless people
of the lower Hudson during the years of war and
raid. The but!l pal':d ar the sound and dropped
the little F'hillip.e from his arms. Without wait-

ing to see the issue, young Livingstone dragged the
" little lord from the throng, while his companion,
Master Clinton, hurried Dolly along, and they were
soon free of the crowd that was dealing roughly
enough with Big Jake of the Saw-mill.
"Now, Dolly, let us go back to the farm before
we get into further trouble," said Cousin Ned, a
pleasant young fellow of eighteen, who looked upon
himself as the lawful protector of the children."
"But what shall we do with our little lord of
the manor, Cousin Ned ? asked Dolly.
"The safest plan is to take him with us," he
"Oh, no, sir; no," pleaded the little boy.
"We sail to-day with Sir Guy Carleton, and what
will grandfather do without me ?" And then he
-told them how, early that morning, he had slipped
away from Angevine, Colonel Phillips,'s body-
servant, passed through the barriers and strolled
up the Bowery'lane to see the "rebel soldiers";
how he had lost his way in the crowd, and was
in sore distress and danger until Dolly interfered;
and how he thanked them over and over again"
for protecting him. But "Oh, please, I must go
back to my grandfather," he added.
Little Mistress Dolly had a mind of her own,.and
she warmly championed the cause of the "lost little
lord," as she called him.
"Cousin Ned," she said, "of course, he must go
to his grandfather, and of course, we must take
him. Think how I should feel if they tried to keep
me from my father!" and Dolly's sympathetic
eyes filled at the dreadful thought.
"But how can we take him?" asked Cousin
Ned. How can we get past the barriers? "'
A hundred years ago, New York City proper ex-
tended northward only as far as the present Post-
office, and during the Revolution a line of earth-
works was thrown across the island at that point to
defendit against assaultfrom the n...r t. TheBritish
sentinels at these barriers were not to give up their
posts to the Americans until one o'clock on this
eventful evacuation-day, and Cousin Ned, thir.- :.r o
could not well see how they could pass the sentries.
But young Master Clinton, a' bright, curly-
haired boy of thirteen, said confidently: "Oh,
that's easily done." And then, with a knowledge
of the highways and by-ways which many rambles
through the dear old town had given him, he un-
folded his plan. See here," he said, "we 'l
turn. down the Monument lane, just below us, cut
across through General Mortier's- woods to Mr.
Nicholas Bayard's, and so on to the Ranelagh
Gardens. From there we can easily get over to
the Broad Way and the Murray-street barrier before
General Knox gets to the Fresh Water, where he
has been ordered to halt until one o'clock. When



the guard at the barrier knows that we have the
little baron of Phillipsbourg with us, and has
handled the two York sixpences you will give him,
of course he'll let us pass. So, don't you see, we
can fix this little boy all right, and, better yet,
can see King George's men go out and our troops
come in, and make just a splendid day of it."
Dolly, fully alive to these glorious possibilities,
clapped her hands delightedly.
What a brain the boy has !" said young Living-
stone. "Keep on, my son," he said, patronizingly,
"and you '11 make a great man yet."
"So I mean to be," said De Witt Clinton,
cheerily, and then, heading the little group, he fol-
lowed out the route he had proposed. Ere long
the barriers were safely passed, Cousin Ned was
two York sixpences out of pocket, and the young
people stood within the British lines.
"And now, where may we find your grand-
father, little one ?" Cousin Ned inquired, as they
halted on the Broad Way beneath one of the tall
poplars that lined the old-time street.
The little Phillipse could not well reply. The
noise and confusion that filled the city had turned
his head. For what with the departing English
troops, the disconsolate loyalist refugees hurrying
for transportation to distant English ports, and the
zealous citizens who were making great prepara-
tions to welcome the incoming soldiers of the
Congress, the streets of the little city were full of
bustle and excitement. The boy said his grand-
father might be at the fort; he might be at the
King's Arms Tavern, near Stone street; he might
be -he would be -hunting for him.
So Master Clinton suggested, Let's go down
to Mr. Day's tavern here in Murray street. He
knows me, and, if he can, will find Colonel Phil-
lipse for us." Down into Murray street therefore
they turned, and, near the road ~o Greenwich, saw
the tavern,-a long, low-roofed house, gable end
to the street,-around which an excited crowd
surged and shouted.
"Why, look there," Master Clinton cried,
"look there, and the King's men not yet gone!"
and, following the direction of his finger, they saw
with surprise the stars and stripes, the flag of the
new republic, floating from the pole before the
"Huzza! they shouted with the rest, but the
'little lord" said, somewhat contemptuously,
"Why, 't is the rebel flag-or so my grandfather
calls it."
"Rebel no longer, little one," said Cousin Ned,
"as even your good grandfather must now admit.
But surely," he added, anxiously, "Mr. Day will
get himself in trouble by raising his flag before
our troops come ii."

An angry shout now rose from the throng around
the flag-staff, and as the fringe of small boys scat-
tered and ran in haste, young Livingstone caught
one of them by the arm. "What's the trouble,
lad?" he asked.
Let go !" said the boy, struggling to free him-
self. You 'd better scatter, too, or Cunning-
ham will catch you. He's ordered down Day's
flag, and says he '11 clear the crowd."
They all knew who Cunningham was--the
cruel and vindictive British provost-marshal; the
starver of American prisoners and the terror of
American children. "Come away, quick," said
Cousin'Ned. But, though they drew off at first,
curiosity was too strong, and they were soon in
the crowd again.
Cunningham, the marshal, stood at the foot of
the flag-pole. Come, you rebel cur," he said to
Mr. Day, "I give you two minutes to haul down
that rag-two minutes, d 'ye hear, or into the
Provost you go. Your beggarly troops are not in
possession here yet, and I '11 have no such striped
rag as that flying in the faces of His Majesty's
"There it is, and there it shall stay," said Day,
quietly but firmly.
Cunningham turned to his guard.
"Arrest that man," he ordered. "And as for
this thing here, I'11 haul it down myself," and,
seizing the halyards, he began to lower the flag.
The crowd broke out into fierce murmurs, uncer-
tain what to do. But, in the midst.of the tumult,
the door of the tavern flew open, and forth sallied
Mrs. Day, "fair, fat, and forty," armed with her
trusty broom.
"Hands off that flag, you villain, and drop my
husband she cried, and before the astonished
Cunningham could realize the situation, the broom
came down thwack! thwack! upon his powdered
wig. Old men still lived, not twenty years ago,
who were boys in that excited crowd, and remem-
bered how the powder flew from the stiff white
wig, and how, amidst jeers and laughter, the de-
feated provost-marshal withdrew from the unequal
contest, and fled before the resistless sweep of Mrs.
Day's all-conquering broom. And the flag did not
come down.
From the vantage-groundof a projecting "stoop"
our young friends had indulged in irreverent
laughter, and the marshal's quick ears caught
the sound.
Fuming with rage and seeking some one to vent
his anger on, he rushed up the "stoop and bade
his guard drag down the culprits.
"What pestilent young rebels have we here ?"
he growled. "Who are you?" He started as
they gave their names. "Livingstone? Clinton?



Duane?" he repeated. "Well, well--a rare lot
this of the rebel brood And who is yon young
bantling in velvet and ruffles ? "
You must not stop us, sir," said the boy, facing
the angry marshal. I am the little lord of the
manor, and my grandfather is Colonel Phillipse.
Sir Guy Carleton is waiting for me."
Well, well," exclaimed the surprised marshal;
"here"s a fine to-do A F'hilii-.. in this rebel lot !
What does it mean? Have ye kidnapped the lad?
Here maybe some treachery. 'iir; r icr 'i, 'l.:. "
and with as much-importance as if he had captured
a whole corps of Washington's dragoons, instead
of a few harmless children, the young prisoners
were hurried off, followed by an indignant crowd.
Dolly was considerably frightened, and dark visions
of the stocks, the. whipping-post, and the ducking-
stool by the Collect pond rose before her eyes. But
Cousin Ned whispered: "Don't be afraid, Dolly -
'twill be all right"; and Master Clinton even
sought to argue with the marshal.
"There are no rebels. now, sr," ir- said, "since
your king has given up the fight. You yourselves
are rebels, rather, if you restrain us of our freedom.
I know your king's proclamation, word for word.
It says: 'We do hereby strictly charge and com-
mand all our officers, both at sea and land, and all
other our subjects whatsoever, to forbear all acts
of hostility, either by sea or land, against the
United States of America, their vassals or subjects,
under the penalty of incurring our highest dis-
pleasure.' Whe1iti reC sir," concluded this wise
young pleader, "if you keep us in unlawful cus-
tody, you brave your :!-,g'i dis pi- i !ur "
"You impudent young rebel- began Cun-
ningham; but the "little lord" interrupted him
with:: '- You h;all not take us t.:. j.il, sir. I will tell
my grandfather, and he will make Sir Guy punish
you." And upon this, the provost-marshal, whose
wrath had somewhat cooled, began to fear that he
might, p.rlrhapF, haie exceeded his .wul,..i'r and
ere long, with a sour look and a surly word, he set
th-e ourg p-eo.ple- frc.
Siit Iu'. C.irketI.r, [K. C. B., commander-in-chief
of all His IMaji-tn's forces in the colonies, stood
at the foot of the flag-staff on the northern bastion
of Fort George. Before him filed the departing
troops of his king, evacuating the pleasant little city
they had occupied for over seven years. "There
might be seen," says one of the old i-.:,..ri,
"the Hessian, with his towering, brass-fronted
cap, mustache colored with tl,- same blacking
.hi l.h colored his shoes, his lai plastered with
tallow and flour, and re-: lirrd in whip-form to his
waist. His uniform was a blue coat, yellow vest
and breeches, and bl ck gaiters. Ti- Highlander,
with his low checked bonnet, his tartan or plaid,

short red coat, his kilt above his knees and they
exposed, his hose short and party-colored. There
were also the grenadiers of Anspach, with towering
yellow caps; the gaudy Waldeckers, with their
cocked hats edged with yellow scallops; the Ger-
man yagers, and the various corps of English in
glittering and gallant pomp," The white-capped
waves of the beautiful bay sparkled ii the sunlight,
while the whale-boats, barges, gigs, and launches
sped over the water, bearing troops and.refugees
to the transports, or to the temporary camp on
Staten Island. The last act of the evacuation was
oiib-i: completed. But Sir Guy Carleton looked
troubled. His eye wandered from the departing
troops at Whitehall slip to the gate at Bowling
Green, and then across the parade to the Gov-
ernor's gardens and the town beyond.
Well, sir, what word from Colonel Phillipse? "
he inquired, as an aid hurried to his side.
"" He bids you go without him, General," the aid
reported. "The boy is not yet found, but the
Colonel says he will risk seizure rather than leave
the lad behind."
"It can not well be helped," said the British
commander. "I will myself dispatch a line to
General Washington, requesting due courtesy and
safe conduct for Colonel -Phillipse and his missing
heir. But see-whom have we here? he asked,
as across the parade two children came hurrying
hand in hand. Fast behind them a covered cariole
came tearing through the gate-way, and ere the
bastion on which the General stood was reached,.
the cariole drew up with a sudden stop, and a very
large man, descending hastily, caught up one of
the children in his arms.
"Good; the lost is found! exclaimed Sir Guy.
who had been an interested spectator of the pan-
"All is well, General," Colonel Phillipse cried,
joyfully, as the commander came down from the
bastion and welcomed the new-comers. My little
lord of the manor is found; and, faith, his loss
troubled me more than all the attainder and for-
feiture the rebel Congress can crowd upon me."
"But how got he here ?" Sir Guy asked.
"This fair little lady is both his rescuer and
protector," replied the grandfather.
"And who may you be, little mistress?" asked
the commander-ii-chief.
Dolly made a neat little curtsy, for those were
the days of good manners, and she was a proper
Mi..1.: damsel. "I am Dolly Duane, your Excel-
lency," she said, "daughter of Mr. James Duane,
of the Congress."
"Duane exclaimed the Colonel;. well, well,
little one, I did not think a PhilHp.p. .*.o.ld. ever
.ia.n.:-i e.-: himself debtor tc. :-, 'u.-liI; bur now




do I gladly do it. Bear my compliments to your
father, sweet Mistress Dolly, and tell him that his
old enemy, Phillipse, of Phillipsbourg, will never
forget the kindly aid of his gentle little daughter,
who has this day restored a lost lad to a sorrowing
grandfather. And let me thus show my gratitude
for your love and service," and the very large man,
stooping in all courtesy before the little girl, laid
his hand in blessing on her head, and kissed her
fair young face.
"A rare little maiden, truly," said gallant Sir
Guy: and though I have small cause to favor so
hot an enemy of the King as is Mr. James Duane,
I admire his dutiful little daughter; and thus
would I, too, render her love and service," and
the gleaming scarlet and gold-laced arms of the
courtly old commander encircled fair Mistress
Dolly, and a hearty kiss fell upon her blushing
cheeks. But she was equal to the occasion. Rais-
ing herself on tiptoe,. she dropped a dainty kiss
upon the General's smiling face, and said, "Let
this, sir, be America's good-bye kiss to your
"A right royal salute," said Sir Guy. "Mr.
De Lancy, bid the band-master give us the fare-
well march "; and, to the strains of appropriate
music, the commander-in-chief and his staff passed
down to the boats, and the little lord of Phillipse
Manor waved Mistress Dolly a last farewell.
Then the red cross of St. George, England's
royal flag, came fluttering down from its high staff
on the north bastion, and the last of the rear-
guard wheeled toward the slip. But Cunningham,
the. provost-marshal, still angered by the thought
of his discomfiture at Day's tavern, declared
roundly that no rebel. flag should go up that staff
in sight of King George's men. Come, lively
now, you blue jackets," he shouted, turning to
some of the sailors from the fleet. Unreeve the
halyards, quick; slush down the pole; knock off
the stepping-cleats Then let them run their rag
up if they can." His orders were quickly obeyed.
The halyards were speedily cut, the stepping-
cleats knocked from the staff, and the tall pole
covered with grease, so that none might climb it.
And with this final act of unsoldierly discourtesy,
the memory of which has lived through a hundred
busy years, the provost-marshal left the now lib-
erated city.
Even Sir Guy's gallant kiss could not rid Dolly
of her fear of Cunningham's frown; but as she
scampered off she heard his final order, and, hot
with indignation, told the news to Cousin Ned and
Master Clinton, who were in waiting for her on the
Bowling Green. ,The younger lad was for stirring
up the people to instant action, but just then they
heard the roll of drums, and, standing near the

ruins of King George's statue, watched the advance-
guard of the Continental troops as it filed in
to take possession of the fort. Beneath the high
gate-way and straight toward the north bastion
marched the detachment--a troop of horse, a regi-
ment of infantry, and a company of artillery. The
batteries, the parapets, and the ramparts were
thronged with cheering people, and Colonel Jack-
son, halting before the flag-staff, ordered up the
stars and stripes.
"The halyards are cut, Colonel," reported the
color-sergeant; "the cleats are gone, and the pole
is slushed."
"A mean trick, indeed," exclaimed the indig-
nant Colonel. "Hallo there, lads, will you be out-
.witted by such a scurvy trick ? Look where they
wait in their boats to give us the laugh. Will you
let tainted Tories and buttermilk Whigs thus shame
us? A gold jacobus to him who will climb the staff
and reeve the halyards for the stars and stripes "
Dolly's quick ear caught the ringing words. "Oh,
Cousin Ned," she cried; I saw Jacky Van Ars-
dale on the Bowling Green. Don't you remember
how he climbed the greased pole at Clermont, in
the May merrying ? and with that she sped
across the parade and through the gate-way, re-
turning soon with a stout sailor-boy of fifteen.
"Now, tell the.Colonel you '11 try it, Jacky."
"Go it, Jack!" shouted Cousin Ned. "I 'I
make the gold jacobus two if your but reeve the
"I want no money for the job, Master Living-
stone," said the sailor-lad. I '11 do it for Mistress
Dolly's sake, if I can."
Jack was an expert climber, but if any of my boy
readers think it a simple thing to "shin up a
greased pole, just let them try it once-and fail.
Jack Van Arsdale tried it manfully once, twice,
thrice, and each time came slipping down covered
with slush and shame. And all the watchers in
the boats off-shore joined in a chorus of laughs and
jeers. Jack shook his fist at them angrily. "I '11
fix 'em yet," he said. "If but ye 'll saw me up
some cleats, and give me hammer and nails, I'11
run that flag to the top in spite of all the Tories
from 'Sopis to Sandy Hook "
Ready hands and willing feet came to the assist-
ance of the plucky lad. Some ran swiftly to Mr.
Geolet's, the iron-monger's," in Hanover square,
and brought quickly back a hand-saw, hatchet,
hammer, gimlets, and nails "; others drew a long
board to the bastion, and while one sawed the
board into lengths, another split the strips into
cleats, others bored the nail-holes, and soon young
Jack had material enough.
Then, tying the halyards around his waist, and
filling his jacket-pockets with cleats and nails, he


worked his way up the flag-pole, nailing and
climbing as he went. And now he reaches the
top, now the halyards are reeved, and as the beau-
tiful flag goes fluttering up the staff a mighty cheer
is heard, and a round of thirteen guns salutes the
stars and stripes and the brave sailor-boy who did
the gallant deed.
From the city streets came the roll and rumble
of distant drums, and Dolly and her two compan-
ions, following the excited crowd, hastened across
Hanover square, and from an excellent outlook in
the Fly Market watched the whole grand proces-
sion as it wound down Queen (now Pearl) street,
making its triumphal entry into the welcoming
city. First came a corps of dragoons, then fol-
lowed the advance-guard of light infantry and a
corps of artillery, then more light infantry, a bat-
talion of Massachusetts troops, and the rear-guard.
As the veterans, with their soiled and faded uni-
forms, filed past, Dolly could not help contrasting
them with the brilliant -appearance of the British
troops she had seen in the fort. Their clothes
do look worn and rusty," she said. "But then,"
she added, with beaming eyes, "they are our sol-
diers, and that is everything."
And now.she hears ",a great hozaing all down
the Fly," as one record queerly puts it, and as the
shouts increase, she sees a throng of horsemen,
where, escorted by Captain Delavan's West
Chester Lil-tir Horse," ride- the heroes of that
happy hour, General George Washington and
Governor George Ch!rn.on Dolly added her clear
little treble to the loud huzzas as the famous com-
mander-in-chief rode down the echoing street.
Behind their excellencies came other officials, dig-
nitaries, army officers, and files of citizens, on
horseback and afoot, many of the latter returning
to dismantled and ruined homes after nearly eight
years of exile.
But Dolly did not wait to see the whole proces-
sion. She had spied her father in the line of
mounted citizens, and flying across Queen street,
and around by Golden Hill (near Maiden lane),
where the first blood of the Revolution was spilled,
she hurried down the Broad Way, so as to reach
Mr. Cape's tavern before their excellencies arrived.
Soon she was in her father's arms relating her
adventures, and as she received his chidings for

mingling in such "unseemly crowds," and his
praise for her championship and protection of the
little Phillipse, a kindly hand was laid upon her
fair young head, and a voice whose tones she could
never forget said: "So may our children be angels
of peace, Mr. Duane. Few have suffered more, or
deserved better from their country, sir, than you;
but the possession of so rare a little daughter is a
fairer recompense than aught your country can
bestow. Heaven has given me no children, sir;
but had I thus been blessed, I could have wished
for no gentler. or truer-hearted little daughter
. than this maid of yours." And with the stately
courtesy that marked the time, General Washing-
ton bent down and kissed little Dolly as she sat on
. her father's knee. Touched by his kindly words,
Dolly forgot all her awe of the great man. Fling-
ing two winsome arms about his neck, she kissed
him in return, and said, softly, "If Mr. Duane
were not my father, sir, I would rather it should
be you than any one else."
In all her after-life, though she retained pleas-
ant memories of Sir Guy Carleton, and thought
him a grand and gallant gentleman, Dolly Duane
held still more firmly to her reverence and affection
for General Washington, whom she described as
looking more grand and noble than any human
being she had ever seen."
Next to General Washington, I think she held
the fire-works that were set off in the Bowling
Green in honor of the Peace to have been the
grandest thing she had ever seen. The rockets,
and the wheels, and the tourbillions, and the bat-
teries, and the stars were all so wonderful to her,
that General Knox said.Dolly's "ohs and "ahs"
were as good as a play "; and staid Master Clin-
ton and jolly Cousin Ned threatened to send to the
Ferry stairs for an anchor to hold her down. Both
these young gentlemen grew to.be famous Ameri-
c:,rni- in afti [i .-ar:. and antire d ri iln'v anniversaries
of this glorious Evacuation-Day. But they never
enjoyed any of them quite as much as they did the
exciting original, nor could they ever fo. :7,-t, in-.idsj
all the throrig of memories, how sweet Mistress
Dolly Duane championed and protected the lost
"little lord of the manor," and won the distin-
guished honor of being kissed by both the com-
manders-in-chief on the same eventful day.






AN' what did ye see that was strange-like over
beyant, Pat ?" asked an Irishman of a fellow-serv-
ant who had just returned from Paris with his
"Sure," said Pat, "an' I niver see the likes
o' the childer there. There wuz n't wan o' thim
that cud n't spake the langwidge- an' they so
young; an' there wuz I, a man grown, that did n't
know the first wurd "
Pat's astonishment was no more ludicrous, in
truth, than the surprise we all express, when we
discover in some lower animal a trait which we
have always .considered as belonging to ourselves
,alone as human beings. There is, of course, a

great difference between the human animal and
other animals; but, after all, it is not so great as
we in our complacency are wont to think. In-
deed, one witty naturalist has said that there is
only one difference between us and other animals,
and that is, that we can talk and tell each other
how wonderfully smart we are, and they can not.
Why should not the lower animals have many
traits of character similar to those seen in the hu-
man animal? They have to seek their food as we
do; they have enemies to contend against; they
need help at times; the weaker ones have to band
together, or they would be destroyed by their
stronger enemies. In fact, the battle of life among



the lower animals is so like the battle of life among
us that we really ought not to be'surprised at the
exhibition by any creature of any particular virtue
which we call human, or any vice which we call
For example, we think very highly of the vir-
tue of benevolence, and we call the feeling that
prompts it humanity, as if only man could have the
sensation. As a fact, any animal may be benev-
olent, and it is only because we know so little of
animal life that we have not discovered many in-
stances of it. There is one very odd case of benev-
olence of one animal toward another which shows
that help is often needed where least suspected.
Who would suppose that the elephant, with its
great size and massive strength, could be in need
of such aid as so insignificant a creature as a bird
could give it?
Against such large animals as lions, tigers, and
rhinoceroses it can defend itself, but against tiny
insects, which it might crush under its feet by the
hundred, it has no protection except what is given
it by a little feathered friend.- With such a thick
skin as it has one might well suppose that the
elephant would have no trouble from insects; but,
in truth, it is the very thickness of its hide which
makes the small insect dangerous.
Ticks, which are abundant in all forests, work
their way into the cracks in the skin of the huge
creature, and as the skin is so thick they are en-
abled to bury tliheni-lvm o .:..rmplIelt that they
can not be s:r iped ,:fi when the 'nil ii rn animal
rubs against rocks or trees. A ditifr..nrit con-
structed animal could use its teeth or feet to re-
move the annoyance; bit for the elephant, there
is nothing but suffering and torture, unless some
.kind friend lends a helping hand--or bill.
And this kind fri-rid i; nr:.tck-in,. for no sooner
are the little pe_:t coinirtitl., ciiin:oicLd than a
pair of small, bright, ell:,io ecles % eia! i rbthen i,.ut.
and the next moment a pretty,; orranc-cil..r'_d beak
plucks them forth. The owner of the eyes and
beak is a beautiful, snow-white heron; small of
body, but large of heart; for it seems, in Northern
Africa at least, to have devoted its life to the benev-
olent work of watching over its monstrous frotege..
It is a novel and beautiful sight to see the dark-
skinned giant of the jun rgl, stalking ponderously
along, with as many as a score of these beautiful
birds perched upon his back and head, busily work-
ing to free' him from his little tormentors. And
full well the elephant knows what he owes his
benefactors. Not for anything would he harm
them, ugly-tempered as he often is. Even when
the sharp beak probes deep into the sensitive flesh,
the great creature bears :h.- p~inr p iti- ti,. seeming
to know that it is necessary.

In countries where there are no elephants this
bird cares in the same way for cattle; for which
reason, its popular name is cattle-heron. Scientific
men, however, call it Bubulcus ibis.
We have a saying that charity begins at home,
and it has been added that a great deal of the
charity that begins at home stays there. Of this
narrow sort of benevolence, too, we find examples
among the animals. There is the barbet, for in-
stance.. It is a solitary bird, and sits most of the
time in morose silence on a twig, waiting for its
.:.:,d i t h.' shape of an insect) to fly by. Some-
time it is said to rouse itself and make a descent
upon the nest of some smaller bird, and eat all the
little ones.
y.r:ni,-', one would not look for any sort of
benevolence from such a bird; and yet it offers a
t !.,- i k.i!li,. and beautiful example of the begin-
at-home-and-stay-there kind.
The celebrated naturalist, Levaillant, who has
told us so many interesting things about the birds
:of Africa and South America, says that he discov-
ered a barbet's nest in which there were five birds.
Four of them were young and vigorous, but the
fifth was so old and weak that when it was put into
a cage with its comrades it could not move, but
lay dying in the corner where it had been placed.
When food was put into the cage, the poor old
bird could ronlv lo.:k at it longingly, without having
the strength to drag itself within reach of it. Then
it was that the yojunie-ir hbd; in-ilc-t--d a singular
-pirl of kindness. Qickl-, and een with an air
of n'er.i.n~ .-.:, as it i-cems. rhc\ .ai ried food to the
decrepit old bird, and fed it as if it had been only
.i Ed,- i-r .;. Struck by this spectacle, the naturalist
examined the nest it'm v.hi.-h the birds had been
taken, and found it was full of husks and the
remains of insects, showing plainly that the old
bird minir have been maintained a long time by its
Sil.ro Ii- cimipanri 'ri-. which probably were its own
n,-pring Fi.,rthO.r study of other birds of the
same species convinced the r,:a ti aii lt that it was
the custom for the old and infirm birds to be cared
for by the young and strong.
There are several din'rer t species of barbets
found in Africa and South America, and though
not graceful in shape, many of them are exceed-
ingly be auti ul in plumage. They get their name
of barbet from the French word barbe, meaning
beard, because .they have tufts of stiff hair at the
base of the bill.. Naturalists place them in a genus
called Bucco, and some persons call them puff-birds,
because 'they have an odd way of puffing out the
fearh.-ri I all over rlh- body, which then looks more
like a bale of feathers than a bird.
But it has happened, too, that man himself has
been made lth obje:ct ..f a lower animals benevo- i



lence; and thus the efforts of a few human beings
in behalf of animals maybe seen to have had a par-
allel in counter-efforts on the part of the animals.
In South America there is a very beautiful bird
called the agami, or the golden-breasted trumpeter.
It is about as large in the body as one of our com-
mon barn-yard fowl, but as it has longer legs and
a longer neck it seems much larger. 'Its general
color is black, but the plumage on the breast is
beautiful beyond description, being what might be
called iridescent, changing, as it continually
does, from a steel-blue to a red-gold, and
glittering with a metallic luster.
In its wild state the agami is r .
peculiar for anything but its beau- .
ty, its extraordinary cry, which /
has given it the name of trum-
peter, and for an odd habit
of leaping with comical an-
tics into the air, appar-
ently for its own amuse- '
ment. When tamed, '.;
however,- and it soon
learns to abandon its
wild ways,-it usually
conceives a violent at- -
tachment for its master,
and, though very jealous
of his affection, endeavors '

to wander, they are quickly brought to a sense of
duty by a sharp reminder from the strong beak of
the vigilant agami. At night, the faithful guardian
drives its charge home again.
Sometimes it is given the care of a flock of sheep;
and, though it may seem too puny for such a task,
it is in fact quite equal to it. The misguided sheep
that tries to trifle with the agami soon has cause to
repent the experiment; for, with a swiftness unri-
valed by any dog, the feathered shepherd darts


to please him by a solicitude for the well-being of
all that belongs to him, which may fairly be termed
It is never shut up at night as the other fowl are,
but, with a well-deserved liberty, is permitted to take
up its quarters where it pleases. In the morning,
it drives the ducks to the water and the chickens to
their feeding-ground; and if any should presume

after the runaway, and with wings and beak drives
it back to its place, not forgetting to impress upon
the offender a sense of its error by frequent pecks
with its sharp beak.
Should a dog think to take advantage of the
seemingly unguarded condition of the sheep and
approach them with evil design, the agami makes
no hesitation about rushing at him and giving




combat. And it must be a good dog that will
overcome the brave bird. Indeed, most dogs are
so awed by the fierce onset of the agami, accom-
panied by its strange cries, that they incontinently
turn about and run, fortunate if they escape un-
wounded from the indignant creature.
At meal-times it walks into the house and takes
its position near its master, seeming to ask for his
caresses: It will not permit the presence of any
other pet in the room, and even resents the
intrusion of any servants not belonging there,
driving out all others before it will be contented.
Like a well-bred dog, it does not clamor for food,
but waits with dignity until its wants have been

satisfied. Like the dog, too, it exhibits the great-
est joy upon the return of its master after an
Travelers in Guiana and other parts of South
America, north of the Amazon, find the agami
domesticated even by the natives; and one writer
tells of a young bird which was taken to England
and brought up in the country. It made friends
with the hounds and followed them in the hunts,
having no difficulty in keeping up with them,. and
seeming to enjoy the whole affair as much as any
of the participants. This story may not be true,
but it is not improbable; for a bird of the int': i-
gence of the agami might easily do as much.

T '*

A rc 7Oy uT\ -fcllow nvT :rn jP

Irnce t't e wVol? loaf oP plum cDJKe I

Shen t doctor wa s cll g

I tau1- I havv -m G v fnirsake.i






"HONK! "
I spun around like a top, looking nervously in
every direction. I was familiar with that sound; I
had heard it before, during two summer vacations,
at the old farm-house on the Cape.
It had been a terror to me. I always put a door,
a fence, or a stone wall between me and that sound
as speedily as possible.
I had just come down from the city to the Cape
for my third summer vacation. I had left the cars
with my arms full of bundles, and hurried toward
Aunt Targood's.
The cottage stood in from the road. There was
a long meadow in front of it. In the meadow
were two great oaks and some clusters of lilacs.
An old, mossy stone wall protected the grounds
from the road, and a long walk ran from the old
wooden gate to the door.
It was a sunny day, and my heart was light.
The orioles were flaming in the old orchards; the
bobolinks were tossing themselves about in the long
meadows oftimothy, daisies, and patches of clover.
There was a scent of new-mown hay in the air.
In the distance lay the bay, calm and resplen-
dent, with white sails and specks of boats. Beyond
it rose Martha's Vineyard, green and cool and
bowery, and at its wharf lay a steamer.
I was, as I said, light-hearted. I was thinking
of rides over the sandy roads at the close of the
long, bright days; of excursions on the bay; of
clam-bakes and picnics.
I was hungry; and before me rose visions of
Aunt Targood's fish dinners, roast chickens, berry
pies. I was thirsty; but ahead was the old well-
sweep, and, behind the cool lattice of the dairy
window, were pans of milk in abundance.
I tripped on toward the door with light feet, lug-
ging my bundles and beaded with perspiration,
but unmindful of all discomforts in the thought of
the bright days and good things in store for me.
Honk! honk!"
My heart gave a bound !
Where did that sound come from?
Out of a cool cluster of innocent-looking lilac
bushes, I saw a dark object cautiously moving. It
seemed to have no head. I knew, however, that
it had a head. I had seen it; it had seized me
once on the previous summer, and I had been
in terror of it during all the rest of the season.
I looked down into the irregular grass, and saw
the head and a very long neck running along on

the ground, propelled by the dark body, like a
snake running away from a ball. It was coming
toward me, and faster and faster as it approached.
I dropped all my bundles.
In a few flying leaps I returned to the road again,
and armed myself with a stick from a pile of cord-
"Honk! honk! honk!"
It was a call of triumph. The head was high in
the air now. My enemy moved grandly forward, as
became the monarch of the great meadow farm-
I stood with beating heart, after my retreat.
It was Aunt Targood's gander.
How he enjoyed his triumph, and how small and
cowardly he made me feel!
"Honk! honk! honk!"
The geese came out of the lilac bushes, bowing
their heads to him in admiration. Then came the
goslings -a long procession of awkward, half-
feathered things: they appeared equally delighted.
The gander seemed to be telling his admiring
audience all about it: how a strange girl with
many bundles had attempted to cross the yard;
how he had driven her back, and had captured her
bundles, and now was monarch of the field. He
clapped his wings when he had finished his heroic
story, and sent forth such a "honk!" as might have
startled a major-general.
Then he, with an air of' great dignity and cool-
ness, began to examine my baggage.
Among my effects were several pounds of choc-
olate caramels, done up in brown paper. Aunt
Targood liked caramels, and I had brought her
a large supply.
He tore off the wrappers quickly. Bit one. It
was good. He began to distribute the bon-bons
among the geese, and they, with much liberality
and good-will, among the goslings.
This was too much. I ventured through the gate
swinging my cord-wood stick.
"Shoo "
He dropped his head on the ground, and drove
it down the walk in a lively waddle toward me.
"Shoo /"
It was Aunt Targood's voice at the door.
He stopped immediately.
His head was in the air again.
"Shoo! "
Out came Aunt Targood with her broom.
She always corrected the gander with her broom.


If I were to be whipped I should choose a broom--
not the stick.
As soon as he beheld the broom he retired,'al-
though with much offended pride and dignity, to
the lilac bushes; and the ee:. and goslings fol-
lowed him.'
He:rer, you dear child, come here. I was ex-
pecting y' ou. and had been looking out for you, but
missed sigiit of you. I had forgotten all about the
W.e rthered up rth bundles and the caramels.
I was hIg;l-hearted again.
How coolwas the sitting-ro:m ii.h the \:i odbt.ine
falling about the open wirdlo.,s! .Aui brought
me a pitcher of milk and some strawberries; some
bread and honey; and a fan.
While I was resting and taking my lunch, I
could hear the gander discu;I:u in the ri'a.r. :.f the
farm-yard with the geese. i Jid not 1rt.it!', enjoy
the discussion. His tone of voice was very proud,
and he did not seem to b.: -p.akirg 'weli o:f nmr. I
was suspicious that he did not think me a very
brave girl. A young person likes to be spoken
well of, even by the garnder.
Aunt Targood's gander had been the terror of
many well-meaning people, and of s,:me eil-diers.
for many years. I have seen tramps and pack-
peddlers enter the gate, and start on toward the
door, when there would .sound that ringing warn-
ing like a war-blast, H,..Ik. hb-.nk! and in a few
minutes these unt. il.:onie penplA 1' uld begone.
Farm-houe b.:arder- fron the city woiild s..me-n-
times enter the yard, thrlrking to dra.v.- wter bythe
old "ll-i.'keep i ii a fe nirinules itwas customary
to hear shriek-. and to -ee '.,imen and chilldien
flying over the ,allk; followed by air-rerd;ig.
"honks and jubilant cackles frorr the iic r:;ost :
gander and his admirling Flmil'i
Aunt T'argood sometimes. took suinmmer b:oald'.rs.
Among those that I rmnmcier 'ais Ri%:erend Nlr.
Bonney, a fervent-iouled Nletlhodit pr.acihe!. Hi.
put the gander to flight ith the a-irt-. hip. on tli
second day after hi: arrivAl, and -eeinrigly toj
Aunt's great gr.iet; but he never i, j troubled b,
the feathered tyrant again.
Young couples -.-.nmetime- came to Father Bonney
to be married; and, one summer afternoon, there
rode up to the gate ,: very young couple, whom we
afterward learned had "run away"; or, rather,
had atrrmptr-d to get iarri,-d u ithho:,u their parents'
approval. The young bridegroom, hitched the
horse, and helped from the carriage the gayly
dressed miss he expected to make his wife. They
started up the w alk upon the ruin, as though they
expected t:, be f.lloir'ed. and haste vas necessary
*to prevent the failure of their plan-':.
S" Honk! *

They stopped. It was a voice of authority.
Just look at him said the bride. Oh oh!"
The bridegroom cried "Shoo! but he might
as well have said shoo to a steam-engine. On
came the gander,, with his head and neck upon the
ground. He seized the lad by the calf of his leg,
and made an immediate application of his wings.
The latter seemed to think he had been attacked
by dragons. As soon as he could shake him off
he ran. So did the bride, but in another direction;
and while the two were thus perplexed and dis-
comfited, the bride's father appeared in a carriage,
and gave her a most forcible invitation to ride
home with him. She accepted it without discus-
sion.. What became of the bridegroom, or how
the matter ended, we never knew.
: A nt. what makes you keep that gander, year
after year ? said I, one evening, as we were sitting
on the lawn before the door. "Is it because he
is a kind of a watch-dog, and keeps troublesome.
people away?"
'" N, child, no; I do not wish to keep most
people away, not well-behaved people, nor to dis-
tress nor annoy any one. The fact is, there is a
story about that gander that I do not like to speak
of to every one-something that makes me feel
tender toward him; so that if he needs a whip-
ping. I would rather do it. He knows something
that rn one else knows. I could not have him
killed or sent away. You have heard me speak of
Nathaniel, my oldest boy "
'" That is his picture in my room, you know.
He was a good boy to me. He loved his mother.
I loved Nathaniel-you cannot think how much I
loved Nathaniel. It was on my account that he
went away.
The farm did not produce enough for us all:
N thanil. J. hrn, and I. We worked hard and had
i hard tine. One year-that was ten years ago
-we were sued for our taxes.
"'Nathaniel,' said I, 'I will go to taking
"Then he looked up to me and said (Oh, how
noble and handsome he appeared to me !):
'Mother, I will go to sea.'
"' Where?' asked I, in surprise.
'In a coaster.'
"I turned white. How I felt!
"'You. and John can manage the place,' he
continued. 'One of the vessels sails next week
-Uncle Aaron'i-, he offers to take me.'
"It s,-eem edbe -:t. ari .! made preparations to go.
"The spring before, '5kpper Ec you have met
Skipper Ben-had given me some goose eggs';
he had brought them from Caniad and said
that they weie wild-goose eggs.



I set them under hens. In four weeks I had
three goslings. I took them into the house at first,
but afterward made a pen for them out in the yard.
I brought them up myself, and one of those gos-
lings is that gander.
Skipper Ben came over to see me, the day be-
fore Nathaniel was to sail. Aaron came with him.
I said to Aaron:,
What can I'give to'Nathaniel to carry to sea
with him to make him think of home? Cake,
preserves, apples ? I have n't got much ; I have
done all I can for him, poor boy.'
"Brother looked at me curiously, and said:
"' Give him one of those wild geese, and we will
fatten it on shipboard and will have it for our
Thanksgiving dinner.'
"What brother Aaron said pleased me. The
young gander was a noble bird, the handsomest
of the lot; and I resolved to keep the geese to kill
for my own use and to give him to Nathaniel.
"The next morning-itwas late in September-
I took leave of Nathaniel. I tried to be calm and
cheerful and hopeful. I watched him as he went
down the walk with the gander struggling under
his arms. A stranger would have laughed, but I
did not feel like laughing; it was true that the.
boys who went coasting were usually gone but
a few months and came home hardy and happy.
But when poverty compels a mother and son to
part, after they have been true to each other, and
shared their feelings in common, it seems hard, it
seems hard-though I do not like to murmur or
complain at anything allotted to me.
S" I saw him go over the hill. On the top he
stopped and held up the gander. He disap-
peared; yes, my own Nathaniel disappeared. I
think of him now as one who disappeared.
"November came--it was a terrible month on
the coast that year. Storm followed storm; the
sea-faring people talked constantly of wrecks and
losses. I could not sleep on the nights of those
high winds. I used to lie awake thinking over all
the happy hours I had lived with Nathaniel.
Thanksgiving week came.
It was full of an Indian-summer brightness after
the long storms. The nights were frosty, bright,
and calm.
"I could sleep on those calm nights.
One morning, I thought I heard a strange sound
in the woodland -a.tnur.. It was like a wild goose.
I listened; it was repeated. I was lying in bed.
I started up I thought I had been dreaming.
On the night before Thanksgiving I went to bed
early, being very tired. The moon was full; the
air was calm and still. I was thinking of Nathaniel,
and I wondered if he would indeed have the gander
for his Thanksgiving dinner: if it would be cooked

as well as I would have cooked it, and if he would
think of me that day.
"I was just going to sleep, when suddenly I
heard a sound that made me start up and hold my
I thought it was a dream followed by a
nervous shock.
'Honk! honk '
"There it was again, in the yard. I was surely
awake and in my senses.
"I heard the geese cackle.
'Honk! honk! honk '
"I got out of bed and lifted the curtain. It was
almost as light as day. Instead of two geese there
were three. Had one of the neighbor's geese
stolen away?
I should have thought so, and should not have
felt disturbed, but for the reason that none of the
neighbors' geese had that peculiar call that horn-
like tone that I had noticed in mine.
I went out of the door.
The tlird goose looked like the very gander I
had given Nathaniel. Could it be?
I did not sleep.' I rose early and went to the
crib for some corn. '
It was a gander a 'wild' gander that had
come in the night. He seemed to know me.
"I trembled all over as though I had seen a ghost.
I was so faint that I sat down on the meal-chest.
As I was in that place, a bill pecked against the
door. The door opened. The strange gander
came hobbling over the crib-stone and went to the
corn-bin. He stopped there, looked at me, and
gave a sort of glad honk," as though he knew me
and was glad to see me.
"I was certain that he was the gander I had
raised, and that Nathaniel had lifted into the air
when he gave me his last recognition from the
top of the hill.
It overcame me. It was Thanksgiving. The
church bell would soon be ringing as on Sunday.
And here was Nathaniel's Thanksgiving dinner;
and brother Aaron's -had it flown away? Where
was the vessel?
Years have passed- ten. You know I waited
and waited for my boy to come back. Decem-
ber grew dark with its rainy seas; the snows fell;
May lighted up the hills, but the vessel never
came back. Nathaniel-my Nathaniel-never
That gander knows something he could tell me
if he could talk. Birds have memories. He re-
membered the corn-crib -he remembered some-
thing else. I wish he could talk, poor bird! I wish
he could talk. I will never sell him, nor kill him,
nor have him abused. He knows!"


By Eini: C. Dowd.

A long time ago, there lived, in C';.::lo.,
Otto von Hill!,r and LipL t Van Tn.,
And C'LL-) wrote :-ILk.L ,
But iLpe IL Jd.c.t Li._: -
1" Ti1, .very best t:LA:!L. that .ever were known!"
So said every sensible frau in Cologne.

" Fr~-id Rupert," said Qtto von Hill.;c, one dl-.,
"' C'inL., tell me the wonderful reason, I 2-:,
Ahl men call you clever,
When, r,-lly you never
Fr'.:.:-d to have very much learning, you know,
And I-well, in truth, I 've L,-:.Iah for a show



"I 'm master of La-tin, I 'm famous in Greek,
Both French and Italian I fluently speak;
I could talk by the year
Of our nation's career;
Yet, some one has said-to his shame be it

known -
That I am the stupid

Said Rupert Van Ton
try it,
I '11 tell you the secr
"But I 've so
"'T wont s

lest man in Cologne !" ''
\. .... :' / ,
Ie "If you '1 promise to. ..

et :-I 've learned to keep :

much to say !"- .L _
poil in a day -.

S-' ---'-'"'. "1' ,,
.....' -- -. ,' -,

it ..~~ii

51 -

VOL. XI.-2.



Who lets his tongue run like a vibrating lever
Stands very small chance of being called clever."

But he'd "so much to say," this Otto von Hiller:
'T was now to the judge, and now to the miller;
He 'd appear without warning,
And stay all the morning,
Till his hearers would sigh as he left, "V. ..:. a drone!
He is truly the stupidest man in Cologne."

But Rupert Van Tone worked on at his trade;
He listened and thought, but his words he well weighed,
Till at twoscore and twenty
He 'd .:.: in plenty;
And through summer and winter his mansion was known
As the home of the cleverest man in Cologne.








"Now, Lavaujer, that cutter 's all you have to
show for as hard a month's work as ever you
"But, Mother, just look at it."
"That's what I'm doing, now. You've had it
painted red, and varnished, and there 's room in it
for two, if neither one of 'em was too heavy -"
"Now, Mother, you ought to try it. I'll take
you to meeting in it, next Sunday. It runs-
well, you ought to see how the sorrel colt gets
along, with that cutter behind him."
And I 'm not sorry you 've got something for
him to do. You 've been 'raising' him, as you
call it, ever since you were a twelve-year-old, and
he was a yearling then."
Mrs. Stebbins had indeed been looking hard at
her son's new "cutter," and she had taken a good
five minutes to tell him all she thought about it;
but there was pride in her eye as she turned to go
into the house. He did not hear her mutter:
"He's the smartest boy in all Benton Valley,
and now he has the nicest horse and cutter. I
guess it wont spoil him."
He was leading his sorrel pet, with the trim little
sleigh behind him, through the gate that led to the
barn. It was a grand thing for a country boy of
his age to have such an "outfit," all his own.
If he were not just a little "spoiled," it was no
fault of his mother's, for he was her only son, and
she had talked to him and about him for almost
seventeen years. He looked a year or so older
than that, to be sure, and his mother said he
knew enough for a man of forty. She had named
him Le Voyageur," after a great French traveler,
whose name she had seen in a book when she was
a girl, but the Valley boys had shortened it into
"Now, Jeff," he said, as he cast the sorrel loose
from the cutter, "I 'in not sure but you '11 have a
better load to haul next time you 're hitched in."
Jeff whinnied gently, as if to express his willing-
ness for any improvement, and Vosh led him into
the stable.
City folks know some things," he remarked to
Jeff, while he poured some oats in the manger;
"but I don't believe they know what good sleighing
is. We '11 show 'em, as soon as we get some bells,
and the deacon has more buffalo-robes than he
knows what to do with."

That was a good half-hour before supper-time,
and he seemed in no hurry to get into the house;
but it was odd that his mother, at the very same
time, should have been talking to herself, in de-
fault of any other hearer, about city folks," and
their ways and by-ways and short-comings.
Down the road a little distance, and on the other
side of it, a very different pair of people were even
more interested in city folk, and chiefly in the fact
that certain of them seemed to be expected at the
house where the pair were conversing.
It was away back in the great, old-fashioned
kitchen of a farm-house, as large as three of the
one in which Mrs. Stebbins was getting supper
for Vosh.
Aunt Judith, I hear 'em! "
"Now, Pen, my child 1 "
The response came from the milk-room, and
was followed by the sound of an empty tin milk-
pan falling on the floor.
"It sounded like bells "
"It 's the wind, Pen. But they ought to be
here by this time, I declare."
There, Aunt Judith "
Pen suddenly darted out of the kitchen, leaving
the long hind-legs of a big pair of waffle-irons
sticking helplessly out from the open door of the
Pen! Penelope! cried Aunt Judith. "I
declare, she's gone. There, I've dropped another
pan. What is the matter with me to-night ? I just
do want to see those children, I suppose. Poor
things How cold they will be!"
Penelope was pressing her eager, excited little
face close to the frost flowers on the sitting-room
window. It was of no use, cold as it made the tip
'of her nose, to strain her blue eyes across the
snowy fields, or up the white, glistening reaches
of the road. There was nothing like a sleigh in
sight, nor did her sharpest listening bring her any
sound of coming sleigh-bells.
Pen Penelope Farnham! interrupted her
aunt. What 's that a-burnin'? Sakes alive If
she has n't gone and stuck those waffle-irons in
the fire. She's put a waffle in 'em, too."
Yes, and the smoke of the lost waffle was carry-
ing tales into the milk-room.
"Oh, Aunt Judith, I forgot I just wanted to
try one --"
"Just like you, Penelope Farnham. You 're
always a-tryin' something If you are n't a trial to


me, I would n't say so. Now, don't touch the
waffles once again. On no account! "
"It's all burned as black "
"Course it is. Black as a coal. I 'd ha' thought
you 'd ha' known better 'n that. Why, when I was
ten year old, I could ha' cooked for a family."
Guess I could do that," said Pen, resolutely;
but at that very moment Aunt Judith was shaking
out the smoking remains of the spoiled waffle, and
she curtly responded:
That looks like it. You '11 burn up the irons
Half a minute of silence followed, and then she
again spoke from the milk-room:'
"Penelope, look at the sitting-room fire and see
if it needs any more wood. They'll be more 'n
half froze when they get here."
Pen obeyed, but it only needed one glance into
the great, roaring fire-place to make sure that
nobody could even half freeze in the vicinity of
that blaze.
A stove was handier to cook by, and therefore
Mr. Farnham had put aside his old-fashioned
notions to the extent of having one set up in the
kitchen.. The parlor, too, he said, belonged to his
wife more than it did to him, and so there was a
stove there also, and it was hard at work now. He
had insisted, however, that the wide, low-ceilinged,
comfortable sitting-room should remain a good
deal as his father had left it to him, and there the
fire-place held its own. That was one reason why
it was the pleasantest room in the house, especially
on a winter evening.
Penelope had known that fire-place a long while.
She had even' played "hide and seek" in it, in
warm weather, when it was bright and clean; but
she thought she had never seen a better fire in it
than the one that was blazing cheerily this evening,
as if it knew that guests were expected, and in-
tended to do its part in the welcoming.
"Such abig back-log," Pen said to Aunt Judith,
who had followed her in, after all, to make sure.
Yes, and the fore-stick's a foot through. Your
father heaped it up, just before he set out for
town. He might a'most as well ha' piled a whole
tree in."
"Father likes fire. So do I."
"He 's a very wasteful man with his wood, never-
theless Pen, what do you intend to do with that
poker? Do you want to have the top logs rolling
across the floor?"
"That one lies crooked."
"My child I dare n't leave you alone a min-
ute. You '11 burn the house over our heads, some
Pen obeyed. She lowered the long, heavy, iron
rod and laid it down on the hearth, but such a fire

as that was a terrible temptation. Almost any
man in the world might have been glad to have
a good poke at it, if only to see the showers of
sparks go up from the glowing hickory logs.
"There they come !"
Pen turned away from the fire very suddenly,
and Aunt Judith put her hand to her ear and took
off her spectacles, so she could listen better.
I should n't wonder --" she began.
"That's the' sound of sleigh-bells, I 'm sure!
It's our sleigh, I know it is! Shall I begin to
make the waffles ? "
No, indeed; but you can get out that chiny
thing your mother bought to put the maple sirup
Oh, I forgot that."
She brought it out immediately, and it must
have been the only thing she had forgotten when
she set the table, for she had walked anxiously
around it, twenty times at least, since she put the
last plate in its place.
Faint and far, from away down the road, be-
yond the turn, the winter wind brought up the
merry jingle of the bells. By the time Pen had
obtained the china pitcher for the sirup from its
shelf in the closet and once more darted to the
window, she could see her father's black team,
blacker than ever against the snow, trotting to-
ward the house magnificently.
Don't I wish I 'd gone with them she sighed.
'.' But it was Corry's turn. I guess Susie is n't used
to waffles, but she can't help liking them."
That was quite possible, but her appreciation of
them would probably depend upon whether Pen-
elope or Aunt Judith should have the care of the
Jingle-jangle-jingle, louder and louder came the
merry bells, till they stopped at the great gate,
and a tall boy sprang out of the sleigh to open it.
The front door of the house swung open quicker
than did the gate, and Pen was on the stoop,
shouting anxiously:
"Did they come, Corry ? Did you get them?"
A deep voice from the sleigh responded, with a
"Yes, Pen, we caught them both. They're
right here and they can't get away now."
"I see Cousin Susie!" was Pen's response as
she rushed toward the sleigh, at that moment
remembering, however, to turn and shout back
into the house: "Aunt Judith, here they are!
They 're both in the sleigh !"
But there was her aunt already in the door-way,
with the steaming waffle-irons in one hand.
Sakes alive, child You 'll freeze the whole
house if you leave the door open! Poor things-
and they are n't used to cold weather "



Aunt Judith must have had an idea that it was
always summer in the city.
The sleigh jangled right up to the bottom step
of the stoop, now, and Mr. Farnham sprang out
first and then his wife. They were followed by a
young lady into whose arms Pen fairly jumped,
Susie Susie Hudson !"
There were no signs of frost on Susie's rosy
cheeks, and she hugged Penelope vigorously. Just
behind her there descended from the sleigh, in a
rather more dignified style, a boy who may have
been two years younger, say fourteen or fifteen, and
who evidently felt that the occasion called upon
him for his self-possession.
"Pen," said her mother, "don't you mean to
kiss Cousin Porter ? "
Pen was ready. Her little hands went out, and
her bright welcoming face was lifted for the kiss,
which Porter Hudson bestowed in gallant fashion.
Susie had paid her country cousins a long summer
visit only the year before, while Porter had not
been seen by any of them since he was four years
old. Both he and they had forgotten that he had
ever been so young as that.
Mr. Farnham started for the barn with his team,
bidding Corry accompany his cousins into the house,
and Aunt Judith was at last able to closed the door
behind them and keep a little of the winter from
coming in.
It took but half a minute to help Susie and
Porter Hudson "get their things off," and then
Aunt Judith all but forced them into the chairs she
had set for them in front of the great fire-place.
"What a splendid fire!" exclaimed Susie, the
glow of it making her very pretty face look brighter
and happier. She had already won Aunt Judith's
heart over again by being so glad to see her, and
she kept right on winning it needlessly, for every-
thing about that room had to be looked at twice,
and admired, and informed how "pretty" or
"lovely" or nice it was.
"It is, indeed, a remarkably fine fire," added
Porter, with emphasis.
"And we're going to have waffles and maple
sugar for supper," said Pen. "Don't you like
waffles ? "
"Yes, indeed !" said Porter.
"And after such a sleigh-ride," chimed in Susie.
"The sleighing is splendid! Delightful !"
"Is n't there more snow here than you have in
the city?" inquired Corry of Porter.
"Yes, a little," he acknowledged. "But then
we have to have ours removed as fast as it comes
down. We must get it out of the way, you know."
It is n't in the way, here; we'd have a high
time of it, if we tried to get rid of our snow."

"I should say you would. And then it does
very well, where the people make use of sleighs."
"Don't you have them in the city? exclaimed
Pen, who was looking at her cousin with eyes that
were full of pity; but at that moment Aunt Judith
called to her, from the kitchen:
"Penelope Come and watch the waffle-irons,
while I make the tea."
Waffles exclaimed Susie. "I never saw any
Come with me, then," said Pen. I'll show
you. That is, if you're warm enough."
"Warm?" echoed Susie. "Why, I was n't cold,
one bit. I 'm warm as toast."
Out they went, and there were so many errands
on the hands of Aunt Judith and Mrs. Farnham,
just then, that the girls had the kitchen stove to
themselves for a few moments. Pen may have been
several years the younger, but she was conscious
of a feeling of immense superiority in her capacity
of cook. She kept it until, as she was going over,
for Susie's benefit, a list of her neighbors and tell-
ing what had become of them since her cousin's
summer visit, Mr. Farnham came in at the kitchen
door and almost instantly exclaimed:
Mind your waffles, Pen! They're burning! "
Why, so they are. That one is, just a little.
I was telling Susie- "
"A little ? My child! interrupted Aunt Ju-
dith. "Why, it's burned to a crisp Oh, dear!
Give me those irons."
"Now, Aunt Juditlf" pleaded Pen, "please fill
them up for Susie to try. I want to show her how."
The look on Susie's face was quite enough to
keep Aunt Judith from uttering a word of objec-
tion, and the rich, creamy batter was poured into
the smoking mold.
"Don't let it burn, Susie," cautioned Pen. They
must come out when they're just a good brown.
I'll show you."
Susie set herself to watch the fate of that waffle
most diligently, but she had not at all counted on
what might come in the meantime.
A visitor, for instance.
Susie had already asked about the Stebbinses,
and Pen had answered:
"They know you're coming. Vosh .was here
this very morning, and I told him.."
Only a few minutes before Aunt Judith..poured
out that waffle, Mrs. Stebbins had said to her
I heerd the Deacon's sleigh come up the road,
Lavaujer. Take a tea-cup and go over and borry
a little tea from Miss Farnham. And tell me how
the city folks look, when you come back."
She told him a great deal more than that before
he got out of the door with his tea-cup, and it



looked as if he were likely to have several ques-
tions to answer when he returned...
He escaped a little unceremoniously, in the
middle of a long sentence; and so, just when Susie
was most deeply absorbed in her experiment, there
came a loud rap at the kitchen door. Then, with-
out waiting for any one to come and open it, the
door swung back and in walked Vosh as large as
life, with the tea-cup in his hand.
He did look large, but no amount of frost or fire
could have made him color as red as he did when,
Susie Hudson left the irons and stepped forward to
shake hands with him.
How do you do, Vosh? How is your mother?"
"Pretty well, thank you. How do you do?
Mother's very well, thank you. And you 're just
as you were last summer, only prettier."
The one great weakness in the character of Vosh
Stebbins was that he could not help telling the
truth, to save his life. It was very awkward for him
sometimes, and now, before Susie could smother
her laugh and make up her mind what to answer
him, he held out his tea-cup to Aunt Judith:
"Miss Farnham, Mother told me to borrow a
drawing of tea. We 're not out of tea, but she heard
the Deacon's sleigh-bells, and she wanted to know
if the folks from the city had come."
They've come," almost snapped Aunt Judith.
"Susie and her brother. Please ask your mother
if she can send me over a dozen eggs."
We '11 send them over in a few minutes," said
"Walk into the sitting-room, Vosh, and see our
other cousin," said Pen. "Corry's there, too. O
Susie! -Our waffle 's burned again!"
"Dear me, so it has I "
"Never mind, Susie," said Aunt Judith, hos-
pitably, -as she shook out the proceeds of all that
cookery upon a plate. It's only spoiled on one
side. There 're always some o' them burned. Some
folks like them better when they 're crisp."
Vosh looked as if he would willingly stay and
see how the next trial succeeded; but politeness
required him to walk on into the sitting-room and
be introduced to Porter Hudson.
"Vosh," said Corry, "Porter 's never been in the
country in winter, before, in all his life, and he 's
come to stay ever so long."
"That's good," began Vosh, but he was inter-

rupted by an invitation from Mrs. Farnham to
stay to supper and eat some waffles. He very
promptly replied:
Thank you, I don't care if I do. I threw our
waffle-irons at Bill Hinks's dog, one day last fall.
It almost killed him, but it broke the irons, and
we 've been intending to have them mended, ever
since. We have n't done it yet, though, and so
we have n't had any waffles."
Aunt Judith had now taken hold of the business
at the kitchen stove, for Susie had made one tri-
umphant success and she might not do as well
next time. All the rest were summoned to the
supper table.
The room was all one glow of light and warmth.
The maple sugar had been melted to the exact
degree of richness required. The waffles were
coming in rapidly and in perfect condition. Every-
body had been hungry and felt more so now, and
even Porter Hudson was compelled to confess that
the first supper of his winter visit in the country
was at least equal to any he could remember eat-
ing anywhere.
City folks," remarked Penelope, don't know
how to cook waffles, but I '11 teach Susie. Then
she can make them for you when you go back.
Only you can't do it without milk and eggs."
"We" can buy them," replied Porter.
Of course you can, only they are not such
eggs as we have. You'll have to send up here
for your maple sugar."
"We can buy that, too, I guess."
"But we get it fresh from the trees. It 's very
different from the kind you buy in the city. You
ought to be here in sugar time."
Pen," said her father, we're going to keep
them both till then, and make them ever so sweet
before we let them go home."
He was glancing rapidly from one to another of
those four fresh young faces, as he spoke. He did
not say so; but he was tracing that very curious
thing which we call "a family likeness." It was
there, widely as the faces varied otherwise. Per-
haps the city cousins, with special help from Susie,
had a little advantage in looks. But then Aunt
Judith had had the naming of her brother's chil-
dren, and Penelope and Coriolanus were longer
names than Porter and Susan. There is a good
deal in names, if they are rightly shortened.

(To be continued.)





" I AM learning how to sew," said an eager little maid;
"I push the needle in and out, and make the stitches strong;
I 'm sewing blocks of patchwork for my dolly's pretty bed,
And Mamma says, the way I work it will not take me long.
It's over and over-do you know
How over-and-over stitches go?

"I have begun a handkerchief: Mamma turned in the edge,
And basted it with a pink thread to show me where to sew.
It has Greenaway children on it stepping staidly by a hedge;
I look at them when I get tired, or the needle pricks, you know.
And that is the way I learn to hem
With hemming stitches-do you know them?

" Next I shall learn to run, and darn, and back-stitch, too, I guess,
It would n't take me long, I know, if 't was n't for the thread;
But the knots keep coming, and besides-I shall have to confess-
Sometimes I slip my thimble off, and use my thumb instead!
When your thread knots, what do you do?
And does it turn all brownish, too?

" My papa, he's a great big man, as much as six feet high;
He's more than forty, and his hair has gray mixed with the black:
Well, he can't sew he can't begin to sew as well as I.
If he loses off a button, Mamma has to set it back!
You must n't think me proud, you know,
But I am seven, and I can sew! "

/Ipl~~l j

I-I! r_ i
I ~ icI-? ---ic' ~-







A PARTY of young girls, in their gay bathing
dresses, were sitting on the beach waiting for the
tide to rise a little higher before they enjoyed the
daily frolic which they called "mermaiding."
"I wish we could have a clam-bake, but we
have n't any clams, and don't know how to cook
them if we had. It's such a pity all the boys have
gone off on that stupid fishing excursion," said
one girl in a yellow-and-black striped suit which
made her look like a wasp.
"What is a clam-bake? I do not know that
kind of fdte," asked a pretty brown-eyed girl, with
an accent that betrayed the foreigner.
The girls laughed at such sad ignorance, and
Sophie colored, wishing she had not spoken.
"Poor thing! she has never tasted a clam.
What should we do if we went to Switzerland? "
said the wasp, who loved to tease.
We should give you the best we had, and not
laugh at your ignorance, if you did not know all
our dishes. In my country, we have politeness
though not the clam'-bake," answered Sophie, with
.a flash of the brown eyes which warned naughty
Di to desist.
We might row to the light-house, and have a
picnic supper. Our mammas will let us do that
alone," suggested Dora from the roof of the bath-
house, where she perched like a flamingo.
"That's a good idea," cried Fanny, a slender
brown girl who sat dabbling her feet in the water,
with her hair streaming in the wind. "Sophie
should see that, and get some of the shells she
likes so much."
You are kind to think of me. I shall be glad
to have a necklace of the pretty things as a sou-
venir of this so charming place and my good
friend," answered Sophie, with a grateful look at
Fanny, whose many attentions had won the
stranger's heart.
"Those boys have n't left us a single boat, so
we must dive off the rocks, and that is n't half
so nice," said Di, to change the subject, being
ashamed of her rudeness.
"A boat is just coming round the Point; per-
haps we cap hire that and have some fun," cried
Dora from her perch. There is only a girl in it;
I '11 hail her when she is near enough."
Sophie looked about her to see where the hail
was coming from; but the sky was clear, and she

waited to see what new meaning this word might
have, not daring to ask for fear of another laugh.
While the girls watch the boat float around the
farther horn of the crescent-shaped beach, we
shall have time to say a few words about our little
She was a sixteen-year-old Swiss girl, on a visit
to some American friends, and had come to the
sea-side for a month with one of them who was an
invalid. This left Sophie to the tender mercies of
the young people, and they gladly welcomed the
pretty creature, with her fine manners, foreign
ways, and many accomplishments. But she had
a quick temper, a funny little accent, and dressed
so very plainly that the girls could not resist criti-
cising and teasing her in a way that seemed very
ill-bred and unkind to the new-comer.
Their free and easy ways astonished her, their
curious language bewildered her, and their igno-
rance of many things she had been taught made
her wonder at the American education she had
heard so much praised. All had studied French
and German, yet few read or spoke either tongue
correctly or understood her easily when she tried
to talk to them. Their music lid not amount to
much, and in the games they played their want
of useful information amazed Sophie. One did
not know the signs of the zodiac; another could
only say of cotton that "it was stuff that grew
down South "; and a third was not sure whether a
frog was an animal or a reptile, while the hand-
writing and spelling displayed on these occasions
left much to be desired. Yet all were fifteen or
sixteen, and would soon leave school "finished,"
as they expressed it, but not furnished, as they
should have been, with a solid, sensible education.
Dress was an all-absorbing topic, sweetmeats their
delight, and in confidential moments sweethearts
were discussed with great freedom. Fathers
were conveniences, mothers comforters, brothers
plagues, arid sisters ornaments or playthings ac-
cording to their ages. They were not hard-
hearted girls, only frivolous, idle, and fond of fun,
and poor little Sophie amused them immensely
till they learned to admire, love, and respect her.
Coming straight from Paris, they expected to
find that her trunks contained the latest fashions
for demoiselles, and begged to see her dresses
with girlish interest. But when Sophie obligingly
showed a few simple but pretty and appropriate
gowns and hats, they exclaimed with one voice:


"Why, you dress like a little girl! Don't
you have ruffles and lace on your dresses? and
silks and high-heeled boots, and long gloves, and
bustles and corsets, and things like ours? "
I am a little girl," laughed Sophie, hardly
understanding their dismay. "What should I do
with fine toilettes at school? My sisters go to
balls in silk and lace; but I not yet."
-" How queer Is your father poor ?" asked Di,
with Yankee bluntness.
We have enough," answered Sophie, slightly
knitting her dark brows.
How many servants do you keep ?"
"But five, now that the little ones are grown
Have you a piano?" continued undaunted Di,
while the others affected to be looking at the
books and pictures strewn about by the hasty un-
"We have two pianos, four violins, three flutes,
and an organ. We love music and all play, from
Papa to little Franz."
"My gracious, how swell! You must live in a
big house to hold all that and eight brothers and
"We are not peasants; we do not live in a hut.
Voila, this is my home." And Sophie laid before
them a fine photograph of a large and elegant
house on lovely Lake Geneva.
It was droll to see the change in the faces of the
girls as they looked, admired, and slyly nudged
one another, enjoying saucy Di's astonishment,
for she had stoutly insisted that the Swiss girl was
a poor relation.
Sophie meanwhile was folding up her plain
pique and muslin frocks, with a glimmer of mirth-
ful satisfaction in her eyes and a tender pride in
the work of loving hands now far away.
Kind Fanny saw a little quiver of the lips as.she
smoothed the blue corn-flowers in the best hat,
and put her arm round Sophie, whispering:
"Never mind, dear, they don't mean to be
rude; it's only our Yankee way of asking ques-
tions. I like all your things, and that hat is
perfectly lovely."
Indeed, yes Dear Mamma arranged it for me.
I was thinking of her and longing for my morning
Do you do-that eveay.day k -ked F :.in, for-
getting herself in her sympathetic interest.
Surely, yes. Papa and Mamma sit always on
the sofa, and we all have the hand-shake and the
embrace each day before our morning coffee. I
do not see that here," answered Sophie, who sorely
missed the affectionate respect foreign children
give their parents.
Have n't time," said Fanny, smiling too, at the

idea of American parents sitting still for five min-
utes in the busiest part of the busy day to kiss their
sons and daughters.
It is what you call old-fashioned, but a sweet
fashion to me, and since I have not the dear, warm
cheeks to kiss, I embrace my pictures often. See,
I have them all." And Sophie unfolded a Russia
leather case, displaying with pride a long row of
handsome brothers and sisters with the parents in
the midst.
-More exclamations from the girls, and increased
interest in "Wilhelmina Tell," as they christened
the loyal Swiss maiden, who was now accepted as
a companion, and soon became a favorite with old
and young.
They could not resist teasing her, however-her
mistakes were so amusing, her little flashes of
temper so dramatic, and her tongue so quick to
give a sharp or witty answer when the new lan-
guage did not perplex her. But Fanny. always.
took her part and helped her in many ways. Now
they sat together on the rock, a pretty pair of mer-
maids with wind-tossed hair, wave-washed feet,
and eyes fixed on the approaching boat.
The girl who sat in it was a great contrast to the
gay creatures grouped so picturesquely on the
shore, for the old straw hat shaded a very anxious
face, the brown calico gown covered a heart full of
hopes and fears, and the boat that drifted so slowly
with the incoming tide carried Tilly Reed like a
young Columbus toward the new world she longed
for, believed in, and was resolved to discover.
It was a weather-beaten little boat, yet very
pretty, for a pile of nets lay at one end, a creel of
red lobsters at the other, and all between stood
baskets of berries and water-lilies, purple marsh-
rosemary and orange butterfly-weed, shells and
great smooth stones such as artists like to paint
little sea-views on. A tame gull perched on the
prow, and the morning sunshine glittered from
the blue water to the bluer sky.
"Oh, how pretty! Come on, please, and sell
us some lilies," cried Dora, and roused Tilly from
her waking dream.
Pushing back her hat, she saw the girls beckon-
ing, felt that the critical moment had come, and
catching up her oars rowed bravely on, though her
cheeks reddened and her heart beat, for this vent-
ure was-her last hope, and on its success, depended
the desire of her life. As the boat approached,
the watchers forgot its cargo to look with surprise
and pleasure at its rower, for she was not the
rough,' country lass they expected to see, but a
really splendid girl of fifteen, tall, broad-shoul-
dered, bright-eyed and blooming, with a certain shy
dignity of her own, and a very sweet smile, as she
nodded and pulled in-with strong, steady strokes.



Before they could offer help, she had risen, planted
an oar in the water, and, leaping to the shore,
pulled her boat high up on the beach, offering her
wares with wistful eyes and a very expressive wave
of both brown hands.
Everything is for sale, if you '11 buy," said she.
Charmed with the novelty of this little advent-
ure, the girls, after scampering to the bathing-
houses for purses and porte-monnaies, crowded
around the boat like butterflies about a thistle,
all eager to buy, and to discover who this bonny
fisher-maiden might be.
Oh, see these beauties !" "A dozen lilies for
me All the yellow flowers for me, they'll be
so becoming at the dance to-night !" "Ow! that
lob bites awfully Where do you come from?"
"Why have we never seen you before ? "
These were some of the exclamations and ques-
tions showered upon Tilly as she filled little birch-
bark panniers with berries, dealt out flowers, or
dispensed handfuls of shells. Her eyes shone, her
cheeks glowed, her heart danced in her bosom, for
this was a better beginning than she had dared to
hope for, and as the dimes tinkled into the tin pail
she used for her till, it was the sweetest music she
had ever heard. This hearty welcome banished
her shyness, and in these eager, girlish customers
she found it easy to confide.
"I 'm from the light-house. You have never
seen me because I never came before, except with
fish for the hotel. But I mean to come every day,
if folks will buy my things, for I want to make
some money, and this is the only way in which I
can do it."
Sophie glanced at the old hat and worn shoes
of the speaker, and, dropping a bright half-dollar
into the pail, said in her pretty way:
"For me all these.lovely shells. I will make
necklaces of them for my people at home as sou-
venirs of this charming place. If you will bring
me more, I shall be much grateful to you."
"Oh, thank you! I'll bring heaps; I know
where to find beauties in places where other folks
can't go. Please take these-you paid too much
for the shells," and quick to feel the kindness of
the stranger, Tilly put into her hands a little bark
canoe heaped with red raspberries.
Not to be outdone by the foreigner, the other
girls emptied their purses and Tilly's boat also of
all but the lobsters, which were ordered for the-
Is that jolly bird for sale?" asked Di, as the
last berry vanished, pointing to the gull who was
swimming near them while the chatter went on.
"If you can catch him," laughed Tilly, whose
spirits were now the gayest of the party.
The girls dashed into the water and, with shrieks

of merriment, swam away to capture the gull, who
paddled off as if he enjoyed the fun as much as
Leaving them to splash vainly to and fro, Tilly
swung the creel to her shoulder and went off to
leave her lobsters, longing to dance and sing to the
music of the silver clinking in her pocket.
When she came back, the bird was far out of
reach and the girls diving from her boat, which
they had launched without leave. Too happy to
care what happened now, Tilly threw herself down
on the warm sand to plan a new and. still finer
cargo for next day.
Sophie came and sat beside her while she dried
her curly hair, and in five minutes her sympa-
thetic face and sweet ways had won Tilly to tell
all her hopes and cares and dreams.
"I want schooling, and I mean to have it. I've
got no folks of my own, and Uncle has married
again; so he does n't need me now. If I only had a
little money, I could go to school somewhere, and
take care of myself. Last summer I worked at
the hotel, but I did n't make much, and had to
have good clothes, and that took my wages pretty
much. Sewing is slow work, and baby-tending
leaves me no time to study; so I 've kept on at
home picking berries and doing what I could to
pick up enough to buy books. Aunt thinks I'm a
fool; but Uncle, he says, 'Go ahead, girl, and see
what you can do.' And I mean to show him "
Tilly's brown hand came down on the sand with
a resolute thump, and her clear young eyes looked
bravely out across the wide sea, as if far away in
the blue distance she saw her hope happily ful-
Sophie's eyes shone approval, for she understood
this love of independence and had come to Amer-
ica because she longed for new scenes and greater
freedom than her native land could give her. Edu-
cation is a large word, and both girls felt that
desire for self-improvement that comes to all ener-
getic natures. Sophie had laid a good foundation,
but still desired more, while Tilly was just climb-
ing up the first steep slope which rises to the
heights few attain, yet all may strive for.
"That is beautiful! You will do it! I am
glad to help you if I may. See, I have many
books, will you take some of them? Come to my
room to-morrow and take what will best please
you. We will say nothing of it, and it will make
me a truly great pleasure."
As Sophie spoke, her little white hand touched
the strong, sunburned one that turned to meet and
grasp hers with grateful warmth, while Tilly's face
betrayed the hunger that possessed her, for it
looked as a starving girl's would look when offered
a generous meal.


"I will come. Thank you so much! I don't
know anything, but just blunder along and do the
best I can. I got so discouraged I was real des-
perate, and thought I'd have one try and see if
I could n't earn enough to get books to study this
winter. Folks buy berries at the cottages, so I
just added flowers and shells, and I'm going to
bring my boxes of butterflies, birds' eggs, and sea-
weeds. I 've got lots of such things, and people
seem to like spending money down here. I often
wish I had a little of what they throw away."
Tilly paused with a sigh, then laughed as an
impatient movement caused a silver clink; and
slapping her pocket, she added gayly:
I wont blame 'em if they '11 only throw their
money in here."
Sophie's hand went involuntarily toward her
own pocket, where lay a plump purse, for Papa

about the boat as long as they dared, making a
pretty tableau for the artists on the rocks, then
swam to shore, more than ever eager for the picnic
on Light-house Island.
They went, and had a merry .time, while Tilly
did the honors and showed them a room full of
treasures gathered from earth, air, and water, for
she led a lonely life, and found friends among the
fishes, made playmates of the birds, and studied
rocks and flowers, clouds and waves, when books
were wanting.
The girls bought gulls' wings for their hats,
queer and lovely shells, eggs and insects, sea-weeds
and carved wood, and for their small brothers,
birch baskets and toy ships, made by Uncle Hiram,
whohadbeen a sailor.
When Tilly had sold nearly everything she pos-
sessed (for Fanny and Sophie bought whatever the


was generous, and simple Sophie had few wants.
But something in the intelligent face opposite
made her hesitate to offer, as a gift, what she felt
sure Tilly would refuse, preferring to earn her
education if she could.
"Come often, then, and let me exchange these
stupid bills for the lovely things you bring. We
will come this afternoon to see you if we may, and
I shall like the butterflies. I try to catch them; but
people tell me I am too old to run, so I have not
Proposed in this way, Tilly fell into the little
trap, and presently rowed away with all her might
to. et her possessions in order, and put her precious
earnings in a safe place. The mermaids clung

others declined), she made a fire of drift-wood on
the rocks, cooked fish for supper, and kept them
till moonrise, telling sea stories or singing old songs,
as if she could not do enough for these good fairies
who had come to her when life looked hardest and
the future very dark. Then she rowed them home,
and, promising to bring loads of fruit and flowers
every day, went back along a shining road, to find
a great bundle of books in her dismantled room,
and to fall asleep with wet eyelashes and a happy

FOR a month Tilly went daily to the Point with
a cargo of pretty merchandise, for her patrons in-



creased, and soon the ladies engaged her berries,
the boys ordered boats enough to supply a navy,
the children clamored for shells, and the girls de-
pended on her for bouquets and garlands for the
dances that ended every summer day. Uncle
Hiram's fish was in demand when such a comely
saleswoman offered it, so he let Tilly have her way,
glad to see the old tobacco-pouch in which she kept
her cash fill fast with well-earned money.
She really began to feel that her dream was com-
ing true, and she would be able to go to the town and
study in some great school, eking out her little
fund with light work. The other girls soon lost
their interest in her, but Sophie never did, and
many a book went to the island in the empty bas-
kets, many a helpful word was said over the lilies or
wild honeysuckle Sophie loved to wear, and many a
lesson was givdn in the bare room in the light-house
tower which no one knew about but the gulls and
the sea winds sweeping by the little window where
the two heads leaned together over one page.

You will do it, Tilly, I am very sure. Such a
will and such a memory will make a way for you,
and one day I shall see you teaching as you wish.
Keep the brave heart, and all will be well with
you," said Sophie when the grand breaking-up
came in September, and the girls were parting
down behind the deserted bath-houses.
"Oh, Miss Sophie, what should I have done
without you? Don't think I have n't seen and
known all the kind things you have said and done
for me. I '1 never forget 'em, and I do hope I '11
be able to thank you some day," cried grateful
Tilly, with tears in her clear eyes that seldom wept
over her own troubles. 9
"I am thanked if you do well. Adieu, write to
me, and remember always that I am your friend."
Then they kissed with girlish warmth and Tilly
rowed away to the lonely island, while Sophie
lingered on the shore, her handkerchief fluttering
in the wind, till the boat vanished and the waves
had washed away their foot-prints on the sand.

(To be concluded.)



THERE was an old man in Birtleby-town,
Who chose to live down in a well;
But why he lived there, in Birtleby-town,

He said he was cool when the weather was hot,
And warm when the weather was cold.

Was never a man could tell. A bucket he had to draw himself -up,
A bucket to let himself down;
The reason we 'd never have known to this day, So, perhaps, he was either the silliest man,
Had not the old gentleman told: Or the wisest, in Birtleby-town.



FAR away to the north of us stretches a land
white with snow during most of the year, where
bleak winds in unobstructed fury sweep over de-
serted wastes; where night hangs like a somber
cloud for months and months unbroken, and where
those crystal mountains called icebergs are born.
There is the home of the polar hare. There, where
man aimlessly wanders in a vain search for food
or shelter, this dainty creature thrives.
Excepting the Irishman's hare, which was no

hare at all, but a donkey, the polar hare is the
largest of the long-eared tribe. It equals the fox in
size, and will sometimes reach the height of a man's
knee. Being so large, and, moreover, being found
as far north as ever man has been able to go, it is
often the means of saving the lives of unfortunate
explorers or whalers who have been imprisoned by
the ice so long that their supply of provisions has
given out.
Strangely enough, however, it sometimes hap-


pens that men are overtaken by starvation in the
midst of numbers of polar hares. This is because
the little creature has a peculiarity which makes it
difficult for the inexperienced hunter to shoot it.
When approached, it seems to have no fear at
all, but sits up, apparently waiting for the coming
hunter. Just, however, as the probably hungry
man begins to finger the trigger of his gun, and to
eat in anticipation the savory stew, the hare turns
about and bounds actively away to a safe distance,
and, once more rising upon its haunches, sits with
a provoking air of seeming unconsciousness until
the hunter is again nearly within gun-shot, when
it once more jumps away.
This must be tantalizing enough to a well-fed
sportsman, but how heart-breaking to the man who
knows that not only his own life, but the lives of
all his comrades as well, depends upon.the capture
of the pretty creature whose action seems like the
cruelest of coquetry, though, in fact, it is only the
working of the instinct of self-preservation common
to every animal.
Notwithstanding, however, the apparent impos-
sibility of approaching near enough to the hare to
shoot it, there is in reality a very simple way to
accomplish it. This plan is practiced by the na-
tives, who no doubt have learned it after.many a
hungry failure. It consists in walking in a circle
around the animal, gradually narrowing the circle
until within the proper distance. Simple as this
plan is, it is so effective that, with care, the hunter
may get within fifty yards of the hare, whichseems
completely bewildered by the circular course of its
Perhaps the sad story of the heroic suffering and
final loss of Captain De Long and his brave com-
rades might never have had to be told, had it not
been for their probable ignorance of a matter of no
more importance than this of how to shoot a polar
hare. When they left their ship, the "Jeannette,"
they took with them only rifles, thinking, no doubt,
that they would fall in with only such large game
as bears, reindeer, and wolves.
As a matter of fact, such large animals were very
scarce, while ptarmigan, a species of grouse, were
plentiful, and would have supplied food in abun-
dance to the whole brave band had there been shot-
guns with which to shoot them. As it was, the rifles
brought down but a few of the birds, and thus, in
the midst of comparative plenty, the brave fellows
Since the ground is covered with snow such a
great part of the year, it might be imagined that
the hare would find it no easy matter to procure
its food. Fortunately for it, however, an evergreen
bush, known as the Labrador tea-plant, is scattered
throughout these regions, and seeking this in the

snow, the creature makes a grateful meal upon it.
At other times, the bark of the dwarf willow affords
it a dainty repast.
Not only in the matter of food is the polar hare
suited to its bleak, snowy home.. Human beings
who live in the same latitude have found it neces-
sary to make for themselves broad, flat, light frames
which they call snow-shoes, to enable them to move
about on the feathery material into which they
would otherwise sink over their heads at times.
Nature has done the same thing for the hare when
it gives it the broad, long, fur-clad hind legs, upon
the lower joints of which the animal rests, and from
which it springs.
Its body is protected from the bitter cold by long,
soft, and thick fur, and as, even in its lonely home,
it has enemies, this same fur, by a simple yet most
ingenious plan, is made to serve as a means of
The golden eagle and the snowy owl are both
particularly fond of the pretty creature, but it is a
fondness which the hare has no desire to encourage,
and therefore, when it spies one of these great birds
sailing through the air, with its sharp eyes search-
ing about for something to devour, it instantly
sinks upon the snow as motionless as if dead, and,
thanks to the whiteness of its fur, it can hardly be
distinguished from the material it rests upon. This
same snowy fur which protects it in winter would,
however, as surely betray it in summer, when the
snow is gone; so the little creature changes its
white winter coat for a brown one as soon as the
short spring has cleared the ground, and thus it is
still made to resemble its surroundings.
Still another provision is necessary to enable the
hare to exist in its chosen home. It must have
eyes arranged so that it can see during the long
night of winter; and it is wonderful to find that its
eyes are not fitted for total darkness, but fdr'twi-
light; for the aurora borealis, which glows almost
continuously in the arctic heavens, dispels the com-
plete darkness that would otherwise exist, and
makes a sort of twilight.
There is scarcely any animal that can not be
tamed if properly treated, and the polar hare is no
exception to the rule. Indeed, its gentle disposi-
tion makes it a very easy subject, and consequently
it has not only been tamed for a pet, but even
domesticated and kept for food.
Captain Ross, the great arctic explorer, caught
a young one which had come, with a number of
others, to eat the tea-leaves which had been thrown
overboard from the ship on the ice. This hare he
tamed and made such a pet of that it spent most
of its time in his cabin. There it would sit, with a
solemn air, listening to the conversation that was
going on as if it understood every word, and when



the conversation was over it would leave the cabin the frightened animals, was also on its way down
with an air'of having learned all that it wished to the incline, while Tom had started to run after
know. Annie, but, losing his balance, had sat down, and
A story is told of a boy in Newfoundland who was skimming along in the rear of the procession.
had two polar hares which he one day determined When Tom picked Annie out of a snow-drift
to harness to his sled. Gentle as the creature is. she was breathless with indignation and fright,
it has the utmost dislike of being touched, and so but recovering herself in a few moments, de-
it was a long and tiresome struggle for Master cleared with an emphatic stamp of her foot:
Tom before he could induce the hares to submit "Don't want to yide yabbits any more."
to even the simple harness he had contrived Nor did she have the opportunity, for Tom
At last it was accomplished, however, and with j never saw his hares again, they having
little Miss Annie, his three-year-old sister, on concluded, no doubt, that they were not
the sled, Tom touched his pets fitted for that kind of work. Tom
with his whip. would have tried the experi-
Poor little Annie ment again with An-
must have nine's pet hare,
thought she .nc 0 f but this that
had sud- / a 0o O positive
denly y. 0o. young

t.i, o,,m ,,- ,,,' -, pet, afterward, in

I '2 .aL.uut hun- confidence, that he was
; IN,

S -. ,... put, which is certainly novel. The

ad :i .:., l ..:- u fur i so long that the Esquimaux-

...:... .J.:.. 1 ....: [ women spin the hairs in to threa d,
ll, which they afterward knipet into gloves.
nie ,eing something lik a very apain R te ce ebrated arctic

chubby barrel in shape, went after the flying plorer, had such a pair of gloves madwhich the for him,
hares as fast as she could rollr, and says they rivaled Angora wool iny novel. whitenessThe
The sled, too, being free at the second jump of and surpassed it in softhe hairs into thread,
i-,.:.i I which they afterward knit into gloves.ed
Annie, who, being something like a very Captain Ross, the celebratelld arctic ex-
chubby arrel in shape, went after the flying plorer, had such a pair of gloves made for him,

hares as fast as she could roll, over and over. and says the rivaled Angora wool in whiteness, polar

The sled, too, being free at the second jump of and surpassed it in softness.




BY M. M. Gow.

I'M going to t.!! -.
a story-
It's nice, I kno.. -,:.
'lI say;
Not anold t i.:
Worn our .nd
stale -
I made it mys- il. i.:.-

There wa.; ,i,?-. i.-.-:- i' t.. ,.l r .:-:. -
Oh, ever ,. Iion.: i,.: !

A r,.i .ill :u,-l t1 in ,_-
Were common enough, you know.

And oh, she was awfully lovely!
With eyes as blue as the sky;
Slender and fair,
With long, light hair,
And about as big as I,

But oh, she was awful unhappy!
And if ever she smiled at all,
'T was once in awhile,
A weak little smile,
When she played with her Paris doll.



M. 1, 0


For she had such terrible teachers !
And lessons she could not bear;
And she hated to sew,
And she hated--oh,
She hated to comb her hair !

Well, one day, she wandered sadly
In a dark and dismal dell;
When, do you know,
She stubbed her toe,
And tumbled into a well!

The well was wet and slimy,
And dark and muddy and deep,
But the frogs below
They pitied her so,
They scraped the mud in a heap.

And then they clubbed together,
And a toad-stool tall they made;
And safe on that
The princess sat,
And waited for mortal aid.

And she, to keep from crying,
And her anxious fears disable,.
Repeated fast,
From first to last,
Her multiplication-table.

And all the songs and verses
She had ever learned to say,
Books she had read,
Pieces she 'd said,
And the lessons of yesterday.

Now, a prince there came a-riding,
In the forest thereabout;
When he saw the fair
Maid sitting there,
Of course, he helped her out.

And, of course, they rode together,
Till they reached the palace gate,
Where they alighted,
Their tale recited,
And the wedding was held in state.



TIE lives of authors are so often at variance Of one thing we may be sure, that the clerical
with the spirit of their writings that it is always, profession was not to the taste of the imaginative
pleasant to learn that the poet is also a man of boy, whose brave dreams beckoned him from far
harmonious personal qualities; that the novelist who away, and cast altogether too dazzling a light over
makes us weep over his pathetic domestic scenes is the sober books he was set to study. And we are
a good husband and father; and that the eloquent onot surprised to find him, at the age of twenty,
apostle of liberty is not a tyrant in his own house- quitting his tutors and his tasks, to follow those
hold. An interest of this sort attaches to the sub- bright visions over seas.
ject of our sketch, and we shall be gratified to Landing in New Orleans, he began a career of
know that the author of The Boy Hunters" and adventure in the wilds of America, the recol-
"The Rifle Rangers" was in youth a daring elections of which stood him in good stead when
adventurer. he came to write the romances which flowed so
Of Captain Mayne Reid's boyhood we hear little, copiously from his pen a few years later. Of this
except that he was born in the North of Ireland in part of his career, also, we have no very definite
1819, of mixed Scotch and Irish parentage, and information, except that he made two excursions
that his father, a Presbyterian minister, designed up the Red River, hunting and trading with the
him also for the pulpit. What manner of home Indians; that he, in like manner, ascended the
he had, and the sort of life the future traveler and Missouri and explored the vast prairies which the
writer lived there; who were his associates, what wave of civilization had not then reached. He
his aspirations, his adventures,--for adventures he afterward traveled extensively in the States, writ-
must certainly have had,- of all this we know ing descriptions of his journeys for the newspaper
nothing, when we could wish to know so much. press.
But it is fitting, perhaps, that this haze of obscurity He was thus employed when, in 1845, war be-
should hang over the early years of the romancer, tween the United States and Mexico broke out,
whose life is itself, like a page of romance, and young Reid threw himself ardently into the
VOL. XI.-3.




struggle as a volunteer. Joining a New York
regiment, with a lieutenant's commission, he
fought through the entire campaign, coming out
of it with honorable wounds, a reputation for im-
petuous bravery and generous good-fellowship,
and the title of captain, by which the world has
known him since.
Two or three incidents of this memorable cam-
paign serve to show the intrepid character of the
young officer.
When our army, under General Scott, on its
victorious march to the Mexican capital was, after
several battles, stopped at Churubusco by the
enemy Aunder Santa Anna, a bloody engagement
took place (August 20, 1847) at the causeway and
bridge over the little river, Mayne Reid's active
part in which is described by a correspondent of
the Detroit Free Press, and substantially corrob-
orated by affidavits of members of his regiment.
In the midst of the fight, at a moment of great
uncertainty and confusion, when it was impossible"
to tell how the scale of battle would turn, Reid,
then lieutenant, noticed a squadron of the enemy's
lancers preparing to charge. Fearing the result
to our broken and hesitating troops, he decided
that it ought to be anticipated by a counter .charge.
As there was no superior officer of his own regi-
ment on the spot to order such a movement, Reid
hastened to the lieutenant-colonel of the South
Carolina Volunteers, then in command, Colonel
Butler having retired wounded from the field, and
said to him:
Colonel, will you lead your men in a charge?"
Before he could receive an answer, "he heard
something snap," and the officer fell to his knees
with one leg broken by a shot. As he was carried
away, Reid exchanged a few words with the re-
maining officers, then hurried back to his own
men, calling out, as he rushed to the front of the
"Soldiers! will you follow me to the charge.?"
Ve vill!" shouted Corporal Haup, a brave
Swiss. The order was given, and away they went,
with Haup and an Irishman named Murphy the
first two after their leader, the South Carolina
Volunteers joining in the charge.
A broad ditch intervened between the causeway
held by the enemy and the field across which the
Americans were sweeping. Thinking this was not
very deep, as it was covered by a green scum,
Mayne Reid plunged into it. It took him nearly
up to the armpits," says the correspondent whose
account we condense, "and as he struggled out,
all over slime and mud, he was a sight for gods
and men and for our readers, if they can pict-
ure him there, emerging from the ooze, and rush-
ing on with waving sword, not the less a hero for

the plight which seems ludicrous enough to us
who have the leisure to smile at it.
The leader's mishap served as a warning to his
followers, and they avoided the plunge by taking a
more roundabout course. The Mexicans, at sight
of the advancing bayonets, did not wait, but took
to their heels down the splendid road which led
to the City of Mexico. As the pursuers gained
the causeway, Phil Kearney's fine company of
cavalry came thundering along on their dapple
grays; and Reid firmly believed that the city
might that day have been taken, if a recall had
not been sounded and the enemy given time to
fortify a new line of defense, "the key of which
was Chapultepec."
The Castle of Chapultepec, commanding the
great road to Mexico, was successfully stormed by
our troops on the 13th of September. Of the part
taken by Reid in that action we fortunately have
an account written by himself, which appeared in
the New York Tribune about a year ago, together
with the printed testimony of several officers who
witnessed his behavior on that occasion.
Reid was in command of the grenadier company
of New York Volunteers and a detachment of
United States marines, with orders to guard a
battery which they had thrown up on the south-
eastern side of the castle on the night of the
1Ith, and which had been hurling its crashing
shot against the main gate throughout the 12th.

The morning of the 13th was fixed for the assault,
and a storming party had been formed of five hun-
dred volunteers from various parts of the army.
.The batteries were ordered to cease firing at eleven
o'clock, and the attack began.
Reid and the artillery officers, standing by their
guns, watched the advance of the line with intense
anxiety, which became apprehension when they
saw that about half-way up the slope there was a
halt. I knew," he says in his account, "that if
Chapultepec was not taken, neither would the city
be; and failing that, not a man of us might ever
leave the valley of Mexico alive." This opinion
he formed from the fact that the Mexicans had
thirty thousand soldiers against our six thousand,
and that a serious check to our advance would give
them, and a host of hostile rancheros* in the coun-
try around, all the advantages of position and
overwhelming numbers. Whatever maybe thought
of his judgment from a military point of view, the
decision he took was certainly a brave one.
Asking leave of the senior engineer officer to
join the storming party with his men, he obtained
it with the words, Go, and God be with you!"
He was off at once, with his volunteers and
marines. After a quick run across the interven-
ing ground, they came up with the storming

* A Mexican term for herdsmen.



party under the brow of the hill, where it had
halted to await the scaling ladders. At this
point," says Lieutenant Marshall, of the Fifteenth
Infantry, the fire from the castle was so continu-
ous and fatal that the men faltered, and several
officers were wounded while urging them on. At
this moment, I noticed Lieutenant Mayne Reid,
of the New York Volunteers; I noticed him more
particularly at the time on account of the very
brilliant uniform he wore. He suddenly jumped
to his feet, and calling upon those around to fol-
low, and without looking around to see whether
he was sustained or not, pushed on almost alone
to the very walls."
Reid's action was not quite so reckless as this
account of an eye-witness would make it appear.
The outer wall of the castle was commanded
by three pieces of cannon on the parapet, which,
loaded with grape and canister, fearfully deci-
mated the ranks of the Americans at every dis-
charge. To advance seemed certain death. But
death seemed equally certain whether the as-
sailants retreated or remained where they were.
Such is his own explanation of his conduct.
"Men he shouted out, in a momentary lull
of the, conflict, "if we don't take Chapultepec,
the American army is lost! Let us charge up
the walls "
Voices answered: "W' e will charge if any
one will lead us We 're ready "
Just then the three guns on the parapet roared
almost simultaneously. It would be a little time
before they could load and fire again. Reid
seized the opportunity, and calling out, "Come
on I'11 lead you !" leaped over the scarp that
had temporarily sheltered them, and made the
charge already described.
There was no need, he says, to look back to
see if he was followed. He knew that his men
would not have been there, unless prepared to
go where he led. About half way up, he saw
the parapet crowded with Mexican artillerists,
on the point of discharging a volley. He avoided
it by throwing himself on his face, receiving only
a slight wound in his sword-hand, another shot
cutting his clothing. Instantly on his feet again,
he made for the wall, in front of which he was
brought down by a Mexican ounce-ball tearing
through his thigh.
All the testimony goes to show that he was first
before the wall of Chapultepec. Second was the
brave Swiss, Corporal Haup, who also fell, shot
through the face, tumbling forward over the body
of his officer. It was Reid's lieutenant, Hypolite
Dardonville, a young Frenchman, who afterward,
mounting the scaling ladders with the foremost,
tore down the Mexican flag from its staff.

Before that, however, Reid was observed by
Lieutenant Cochrane, of the Voltigeurs. Coch-
rane was pushing for the castle with his men,
when before him, scarcely ten yards from the wall,
an officer of infantry and a comrade were shot and
fell. They were the only two at the time," he
says in his statement, whom I saw in advance of
me on the rock upon which we were scrambling."
Reaching the wall, Cochrane ordered two men
"to go back a little way and assist the ladders

up the hill." As they passed the spot where the
wounded officer lay, he raised himself with evident
pain, and sang out above the din and rattle of
musketry, imploring the men to stand firm:
"Don't leave that wall," he cried, "or we shall all
be cut to pieces. Hold on, and the castle is ours "
Cochrane answered, to re-assure him : There is
no danger, Captain, of our leaving this! Never
fear!" Then the ladders came, the rush was
made, and the castle fell.
"The wounded officer," Cochrane continues,


" proved to be Lieutenant Mayne Reid, of the
New York Volunteers."
Lieutenant Marshall, to whom we are indebted
for that vivid glimpse of the young officer in his
very brilliant uniform," describes the effect pro-
duced by the exploit,- all those who witnessed or
knew of it pronouncing it, "without exception, the
bravest and most brilliant achievement performed
by a single individual during the campaign."
These statements of Reid's fellow-officers (there
are others from which we have not quoted) were
called out shortly after the close of the war by the
question going the rounds of the newspapers,
"Who was first at Chapultepec ? Reid's own
statement was in answer to some criticisms on his
Mexican record by a newspaper correspondent, who
admitted that he was foremost in the charge, yet
attributed his action to a false motive.
It was charged that Reid had previously, in the
heat of passion, run his sword through the body of
a soldier he was reprimanding for some offense,
and that his conduct at Chapultepec was prompted
by a remorseful desire to atone for that rash act.
"It is quite true," Reid says, "that I ran a
soldier through with my sword, and that he after-
ward died of the wound; but it is absolutely
untrue that there was any heat of temper on my
part, or other incentive to the act than that of self-
defense and the discharge of my duty as an officer.
On the day of the occurrence I was an officer of
the guard, and the man a prisoner in the guard-
prison, where he spent most of his time; for he
was noted desperado and, I may add, robber; long
the pest and terror, not only of his comrades in
the regiment, but the poor Mexican people, who
suffered from his depredations." This man, hav-
ing several times escaped, had that day been re-
captured, and for his greater security Reid had
ordered irons to be put upon his hands. He was
a fellow of great strength, fierce and reckless; he
had boasted that no officer should ever put him in
irons ; and now that the attempt was made, clutch-
ing the manacles and rushing upon Lieutenant
Reid, he aimed a murderous blow with them at his
head. The sword was too quick for him, and he
rushed upon it, to his own hurt.
That the act was considered justifiable is shown
by the fact that the court-martial which investigated
it acquittedsReid of misconduct, and ordered him
to rejoin his regiment. That he felt a brave man's
regret for the necessity which forced him to take
the life of a fellow-man, we can readily believe.
But why should that have caused him to risk his
own at Chapultepec?
The war over, Captain Reid resigned his com-
mission. But the spirit of adventure was roused in
him again when the Hungarian struggle for free-

dom enlisted the sympathies of liberty-loving
people everywhere; and in 1849 he organized, in
New York, a body of men to join it. He had
arrived in Paris, on his way to Hungary, when
news reached him of the failure of the insurrection.
Reid then retired to England and settled down
to literary work. The Scalp Hunters," his first
romance, was written largely from his own knowl-
edge of the scenes it describes, and it had an imme-
diate success. It was followed rapidly by others,
drawn partly from recollection, partly from the
observations of other travelers, and partly, it must
be admitted, from his own audacious imagination.
A man who had displayed such intrepidity with
the sword could hardly be expected to lack cour-
age in wielding the pen. You are following no
timid leader when you enter the field of fiction,
where the calculating rashness of his invention
goes forward somewhat like the very brilliant uni-
form" that led the charge at Chapultepec. He
takes you through regions where strange things
happen-almost too strange and improbable, you
sometimes say; but this criticism serves rather to
raise than to depreciate his books in the opinion
of most boys. We can forgive some extravagance
of incident and peculiarities of style in an author
who evidently writes as he acts with unhesitating
boldness and decision.
In the last letter written by the great African
explorer, Livingstone, he says, Captain Mayne
Reid's boys' books are the stuff to make travelers."
There is, moreover, this to be said of them, that
the frame-work of fact in which he sets his pictures
can always be relied on as fact. Believe as much
or as little as you please of the marvelous things
that happen in his stories; but be sure that he
has carefully gathered from the most trustworthy
sources all that he has to tell you of natural his-
tory, of the traits, manners, and habits of the
strange people among whom his scenes are laid,
and of the wonders of the countries themselves.
Of Captain Mayne Reid's forty volumes of
romances, nearly all have been reprinted in this
country, and many have been translated into other
languages. He is popular in Russia, where several
of his tales have had a large circulation. No doubt,
many readers of ST. NICHOLAS have sat up nights
over The Desert Home," "The English Family
Robinson," The Forest Exiles," and "The Bush
Boys "; and those whose youthful recollections go
back as far as the first volumes of Our Young
Folks," will remember "Afloat in the Forest,"
which delighted the early readers of that magazine.
Captain Mayne, Reid's home is in England, where
he lives the life of a quiet country gentleman,
devoting himself to literature and rural pursuits.
He is now a man of sixty-four years, but young-




looking for his age, although suffering from severe
lameness caused by the old wound received at
Chapultepec. In 1854 he was married to a young
English lady of the Clarendon-Hyde family, a
lineal descendant of the famous Lord High Chan-
cellor. Among his latest writings are a series of
interesting letters on the Rural Life of England,
which have recently appeared in the New York
Tribune, giving detailed and graphic descriptions
of the farmer, the parson, the squire, the magis-
trate, field clubs, and sports, and many other things
of which we over the water read so much in books

and yet know so little. But his very latest work, as
the editors will tell you, is a story written for ST.
NICHOLAS, in which you will be invited to accom-
pany some English and American boys through
some thrilling perils and marvelous escapes in the
"Land of Fire," during the coming year. You
will be sure to be entertained, for whatever else
may be said of him, Mayne Reid is never dull.
And you will feel all the more interested in the
story told when you know that the teller is a
brave man, who carries wounds received in fight-
ing your country's battles.




BY H. I.

THE month was October, the frosts had come down,
The woodlands were scarlet and yellow and brown;
The harvests were gathered, the nights had grown chill,
But warm was the day on the south of the hill.

'Twas there with our bags and our baskets we went,
And searching the dry leaves we busily bent;
The chestnuts were big and the beech-nuts were small,
But both sorts are welcome to boys in the fall.

And when, in the ashes beneath the bright flame,
On eves of November, with laughter and game,
The sweetmeats are roasted, we recollect still
How fine was the day on the south of the hill.



HERE he stood, on the nur-
sery mantel-piece, grin'n'
and grin'n', as if he 'd grin
the hairt out iv him," as
Nora, the nurse, said, and
nobody seemed to know
how he came there. He
might have walked all the
way from China, and set himself up there of his
own accord, for all that Dode, or Teddy, or Mar-
ion, or the baby knew. But he looked so much
like a gentleman on a screen down in the library,
that Marion ran down to see if it were not he. She
had thought, before, that he must have a very
stupid time, standing there on the screen, always
squinting with his queer long eyes, at nothing in
particular, and she did not think it in the least
strange that he had preferred to hop off, if he
could, and come up to the nursery where there
was always something going on.
But no; there he was on the screen, squinting
away, just as usual, and when you came to com-
pare them, the resemblance was not so very great.
Instead of an agreeable smile, the one on the
screen had a scowl, and his petticoats were pur-
ple, instead of red, like the gentleman's in the
nursery, and his tunic and trousers, instead of being
a lovely gold color like his, were a very dull,

unpleasant pink. He had no queer, box-like cap
perched on the top of his head and tied under
his chin, like the one upstairs; but when you
came to his pigtail, there was the greatest differ-
ence. The Chinese gentleman in the nursery had
a pigtail of truly hair, well combed and glossy,
and reaching almost to his feet; while the one on
the screen had only an embroidered one, that
could n't have looked like anything but sewing
silk, if he had come off.
Marion decided that they could be only distant
When she got back to the nursery, she found
that an astonishing thing had happened.
Teddy had given the Chinese gentleman's pig-
tail a jerk, and there had suddenly appeared in the
front of his queer little box of a cap the word,
It was Saturday. They did not need to be told
that, for Saturday was a holiday. But how he
knew what day of the week it was, the children
could not understand.
The letters seemed to be rattling about in his
head like the bits of glass in a kaleidoscope, and
suddenly to rattle themselves together into a word.
It's a wise would felly, he is," said Nora, shak-
ing her head mysteriously. It 's meself knew
that same be the quare looks iv him. He 'll be



after watching' iverythin' that's go'n' on, and if
there 's mischief done he '11 not kape it til himself.
Och, but he has a shly way wid him! "
The children looked at each other in dismay.
There was certainly something very queer about
him. He ran his tongue out, in a mocking and
very unpleasant way when the word appeared in
front of his cap, and there was no denying that he
had a very sly and knowing twinkle in his eye.
He seemed to know altogether more than was
proper for a gentleman who, after all, was only
made of wood, if he was Chinese; and if he was
going to be a spy, and tell who did mischief, he
was not to be tolerated. Teddy gave his pigtail
another jerk, after a rather cross fashion, and out
came his tongue in that very impolite way, and
up into his cap popped the word Sunday.
Pooh! he is n't much,"said Dode. "He is only
just fixed up inside so that he can tell one day after
another. Just let him alone, and he '11 say to-mor-
row is Monday. Nora is only trying to scare you. I
should think she might know that I would know
better." And Dode drew himself up to look just
as tall as he possibly could, which was not, after
all, so tall as he could wish, and did not seem to
impress Nora, although it did impress Teddy, and
Marion, and the baby.
He 's only an old wooden image, is he ? and
not so very pretty either! said Marion, who al-
most always believed what Dode told her.
S"He's a calendar! He's useful. I know Aunt
Esther brought him !" said Dode, with great
Aunt Esther was very kind about some things,
and she had a big dog named Ponto who could
dance a polka, though she valued him only be-
cause he kept burglars away. But she had one
failing that almost spoiled her: she would make
useful presents.
It was not of the least avail for Marion to hint,
about Christmas time, that her doll, Lady Jane
Grey, was suffering for a Saratoga trunk full of
stylish clothes; Aunt Esther was sure to send her
a work-box, or a writing-desk. She gave Teddy
a dozen pocket-handkerchiefs when he wanted a
pistol; and Dode a very dry History of the World,
in seven volumes, when he had hinted for a banjo.
She took Teddy to a lecture on Fossil Remains,
when he wanted to go to the circus, and she made
Dode go to the School of Anatomy to see a lot of
skeletons, instead of to the Zoilogical Gardens.
She never bought candy, and she thought Mother
Goose was silly. She said dolls were a waste of
time, and she thought drums made a noise.
Aunt Esther had no children of her own. They
all died young. Dode said'it was no wonder.
It did not. seem, at first thought, as if Aunt

Esther could have bought the Gentleman from
China. He was so red-and-gold, and had such a
grin. He looked exactly as if Aunt Esther would
not approve of him.
"If you pulled his pigtail every morning he
would tell you what day of the week it was, and
that was useful, certainly; but if Aunt Esther had
bought a Chinese Gentleman at all, she would
have bought a drab one, who would n't under any
circumstances have run out his tongue," the chil-
dren thought.
How he came there was not explained to the
satisfaction of Marion and Teddy and the baby,
whatever Dode might think; and they did think
he was a little quaree," and feel a little awe of
him, although they pretended not to.
He had such an opportunity to make himself
disagreeable if he really could watch all the mis:
chief that was done, and tell who was at the bot-
tom of it! For there was no denying that they
were full of mischief-Dode and Marion and the
baby. Teddy did not really belong to the family;
he was a little orphan cousin. "He is just the
.same as one of us, only not so bad," Marion al-
ways explained.
It was not often Teddy who did the mischief,
but it was very often Teddy who was blamed for it.
For several days the Gentleman from China
conducted himself as mildly and unobtrusively as
a wooden gentleman might be expected to; he
certainly saw plenty of mischief, if he kept his
eyes open, but he never mentioned it, and the
children grew so bold as to laugh to scorn Nora's
warnings that he was a foxy would felly, that was
layin' up a hape o' saycrets to let out agin 'em,
some fine day."
His smile became very tiresome, and it was
decided that he was not, after all, very handsome.
His pigtail was not pulled, even once a day, and
the children's big brother, Rob, said he "smiled
and smiled and was a villain," because he so sel-
dom told the truth about the day of the week.
One rainy day, Dode did take him down to try
to find out what there was inside of him. He was
a long time about it; but he put him back rather
suddenly, at last, and went off as if he were in a
hurry. And neither Marion nor Teddy nor the
baby cared enough about the Chinese Gentleman
to remember to ask him, when he came back, if
he found out where the gentleman kept his letters.
One reason for this may have been that the
nursery was enlivened, just then, by three of the
most bewitching kittens that ever frisked. Three
fuzzy balls with blue eyes, and the pinkest of noses
and toes; and they tore and scampered over
everything, like small whirlwinds. They under-
stood so thoroughly, the art of being agreeable,


there was such variety in their entertainments, and
they enjoyed them so much themselves, it was no
wonder that they put the Chinese Gentleman
in the background. The kittens, to be sure, could
not tell you what day of the week it was,-the
baby had pulled each of their tails to see,-but so
long as there was time enough in it to turn somer-
saults, race together pell-mell, and tumble head-
long, they did n't care.
It was a great shame that.such lovely.kittens
should not have had prettier names;.but there had
been so many kittens in that family that the chil-
dren had exhausted all the pretty names, or got
fairly tired out thinking them up. They had had
Gyps, and Fluffs, and Daisies, and Muffs, and Pink-
ies, and Fannies, and Flossies, and Minnies; and
dignified names, too- Lord This and Lady That;
"a splendid old patriarch named Moses, and a wicked
little black kitten called Beelzebub; and now.there
really did n't seem to be any-names left.for these
three but Rag, Tag, and Bob-tail; and Rag, Tag,
and Bob-tail they were accordingly named.
Bob-tail did have a funny little bob of a tail;. it
looked as if half of it had been bitten off; that was
what.made them think of his name, and his name
suggested the others. Bob-tail was white, with-
out a speck of any other color upon him; but, I
am sorry to say, that he usually looked somewhat
dingy. His one fault was that he would not keep
himself clean.
Marion and the baby- who was a three-year-old
boy, if he was still called the baby, and could do
as much mischief as an ordinary ten-year-old one
-had become so disgustedwith Bob-tail's want of
cleanliness, that they had resolved to.dye him. He
really ought to be of some dark color -that would
not show dirt, they thought.
And they had found, in Mamma's room, a bottle
of indelible ink, of a bright, beautiful, purple color,
which, they decided, would be just the very thing
to dye him with.
The operation was performed that very day, as
soon as Dode had finished examining the interior
arrangements of the Chinese Gentleman, and left
the room.
They waited until he had gone, because he al-
ways wanted to superintend things, and thought he
ought to, because he was the oldest. Marion and
the baby thought, as it was their own idea, they
ought to have the privilege of dyeing Bob-tail
just as they pleased; so it was just as well not to
let Dode know anything about it until it was done.
Teddy was allowed to look on, and was finally
promoted to the honor of holding Bob-tail, who,
being only a kitten, had not sense enough to un-
derstand the advantage of being dyed purple, and
struggled and scratched like a little fury.

* The baby thought he would be prettier dyed in
spots; but that was found to be impossible, be-
cause he would not keep still. The only way was
to pour the ink over him, and they had to take
great care to prevent it from getting into his eyes.
A great deal went upon the carpet; but, as Nora
was down in the kitchen, ironing, and would never
know how it came there, I am sorry to say that
they did not think that was of much consequence.
Marion did look up, once, at the Gentleman from
China, to see if he showed any signs of noticing
what was going on, any more than any image
would, for she could not rid herself of the fancy
that, after all, Nora might be right about his being
" quare and shly." But he exhibited only his
usual pleasant grin, and no more of a twinkle in his
queer, long eyes. Marion concluded that it would
be just as absurd to suspect him of noticing what
was going on as it would be to suspect the little
brass. Cupid.on the chandelier, who always had his
arrow poised, but never let it fly.
It was proposed to hold Bob-tail over the furnace-
register until the ink was thoroughly dry; but Nora
suddenly opened the door, and Bob-tail took ad-
vantage of the. commotion which her entrance
caused to make his escape. It happened, unfort-
unately, that the street-door had been left ajar,
and.out Bob-tail slipped.
. When Marion. and Teddy reached thelower hall
there was no kitten to be seen. They called.until
they were.hoarse, but no Bob-tail came.
"Perhaps he has gone to see if his mother will
know him," suggested the baby; for. Bob-tail's
mother, a sober-minded and venerable tabby, lived
only a few blocks away.
S"If. he should happen to see himself in a look-
ing-glass,.he might think it was n't he, and never
come home," said Marion; "just like the little old
woman on the king's highway who had her petti-
coats cut off, and said:
"'Oh, lauk a mercy on me! This surely can't be I '"
I 'm not afraid of that," said Teddy, after some
deliberation, "because he'll know himself by his
Still, they all felt .very anxious and uneasy, and
would have rushed out in pursuit of him, only that
it was raining very hard, and they were not allowed
to go out.
They thought he would be sure to come home
to supper, for Bob-tail was the greediest of the
three, and always cried lustily for his saucer of
warm milk.
But supper-time came, and no Bob-tail. It was.
so sad to miss his shrill little mew that they all
three cried, and were quite cross to Rag and Tag,.
who had not got lost.



The next morning, they were all up bright and
early to see if Bob-tail had not come home. But,
alas! there were Rag and Tag alone, and so de-
jected in spirit that they hardly cared to play, and
looking very melancholy with the bits of black ribbon
which Dode, who was rather heartless and would
make fun, had tied around their left forefeet.
Marion and Teddy went up and down the street,

I i

U, "''7



and called Bob-tail in beseeching tones, but no
Bob-tail responded.
When they came home from school, and found
that he had not come back, it was resolved that
something must be done.
"I 'd rather have him dir-dir-dirty-white and
found, than pur-pur-purple and lost! sobbed the


And they all agreed to that sentiment. But that
did not help matters in the least.
"If the Chinese Gentleman really knew as
much as Nora said, he might tell us where Bob-
tail is," said Teddy. Let's give his pigtail an
awful pull! "
Pooh he'll only say it is Wednesday. I sup-
pose he will tell the truth, because he was pulled
yesterday, but we all
know that already," said
S -Dode cast a somewhat
Uneasy glance at the
Gentleman from China,
but said nothing.
Teddy gave his pig-
tail "an awful pull."
t F And a most extraordi-
nary thing happened.
Instead of the name
of the day of the week.
this was what appeared
in the front of the
(4 Chinese Gentleman's
Some of the letters
were tipsily askew, but
the message was plain
enough. Send E. W."
Of course, E. W. stood
for Edward Warren,
STeddy's name.
S Teddy turned pale,
and Marion thought that
Nora was certainly right,
and wished that she had
believed her before.
Dode looked a little
frightened, but he laugh-
ed and went and gave
the Chinese Gentleman's
pigtail another twitch.
We '11 find out
whether he really means
it," he said.
Those letters fell away,
MYSTERIOUSLY. andup came: YES.
The letters were even
more askew than the others, and there was a great
rattling before they came, as if he had to make a
great effort to get them up into his cap. But here
it was, as plain a Yes as one could wish to see.
There 's no doubt about it; he means for you
to go, Teddy," said Dode, laughing still, though
he did look a little frightened- and Dode was not
easily scared.


"And oh, Teddy, perhaps you will find Bob-
tail! cried Marion, forgetting her fears in joy at
this prospect.
Teddy prepared at once. to obey the Chinese
Gentleman's- direction. He had not the least idea
where to go, but he had faith that he.should find
Bob-tail,, for the Chinese Gentleman seemed gifted
with miraculous powers.
Dode and Marion and the baby escorted him
down to the door; and Marion, determined to
have everything properly done, tied a handker-
chief over his eyes, and made him whirl around
until he could not tell which way he was facing,
and then started him off. When he took the hand-
kerchief off, he found he was turned in just the
opposite direction to the one he had intended to
follow; but,-since Marion was sure it was the proper
way to do, he went on,.having a queer feeling that
the Chinese Gentleman had had something to do
with turning him around.
On he went, up one, street and down another,
peering into every alley-way, and calling "Kitty,
Kitty," or "Bobby, Bobby," continually. Several
times he stopped and asked persons whom he met
if they had seen a purple kitten without very
much of a tail." They all looked surprised and said
"No "; one boy laughed, and said there was no such
things a purple kitten. Teddy did not condescend
to explain, and, as the other boy was a big one,
Teddy did not tell him what he thought of him.
He grew very weary and discouraged, and had
begun to think that the Gentleman from China
was a humbug, when suddenly he espied a crowd
collected around a hand-organ. Perhaps there
Was a monkey! If there was anything in the
world that Teddy thoroughly delighted in, it was
a monkey. He forgot that he was tired, he almost
forgot Bob-tail, for there was a monkey, and an
uncommonly attractive one, too, with scarlet trou-
sers and a yellow jacket, ear-rings in his ears, and a
funny little hat, with a feather standing upright in
it. He was holding his hat out for pennies, and,
suddenly seeing a lady at an upper window of a
house, he darted -h,!-i,' on to the window-blind,
and so made his way up to her.
The lady put some money into his hat, and he
turned away; but something on the roof of the
house suddenly caught his eye, and he darted up
the spout to the very top of the house !.
There sat a kitten- a most forlorn, and dirty,
and draggled-looking kitten, of a dull, dingy black
color, with streaks and spots of dirty white here
and there, and not very much of a tail.
Bob-tail's very self; but oh, how changed from
the happy, frisky Bob-tail of other days !
The monkey advanced, chattering, and with up-
lifted paw, and cuffed poor Bob-tail's ears.

The kitten made a fierce little spit at the
monkey. And then, seeming to be overcome with
fear of a kind of enemy which was new to his
experience, and might be altogether too much for
him, he turned and fled.
Teddy could see an open sky-light, and the tip
of the kitten's tail vanishing into it.
Teddy.ran up the steps of the house and rang
the bell.
My kitten, is in your house I saw him go
down through your sky-light," he said to the young
girl who opened the door.
Is it a queer kitten, that looks as if he 'd been
through everythingg?" said the girl.
"Yes, perhaps he does. He's been dyed," said
Teddy, rather shamefacedly.
"Dyed? What a cruel, wicked boy you must
be to dye a poor little kitten said the girl, se-
verely. He has been cryirig around here all day.
He would n't eat anything, he was so frightened.
I 'm sure I don't know about letting you have him."
We thought he would be prettier purple. But
we '11 never dye him again," said Teddy, meekly.
The girl seemed to have difficulty in catching
Bob-tail, but she at last appeared with him, though
he was struggling frantically for freedom.
The moment he saw Teddy he made a leap into
his arms. He was of a forgiving disposition, and
willing to overlook the dyeing, or perhaps he had
found, already, that there is no place like home.
At all events, he curled up snugly in Teddy's arms,
and Teddy, rejoicing, carried him home.
Great was the joy among the children over the
wanderer restored to the bosom of his family, but
Rag and Tag were somewhat cold and reserved in
their manner toward him.
They eyed him askance for awhile, Tag even
showing an inclination to do battle with him, but
at last they both drew nearer and smelled of him,
and seeming re-assured by this, they set to work to
restore him to his natural color. But they retired
from the labor with disgusted faces before long,
evidently not finding the taste of the ink agreeable.
It was night then,, and by gaslight Dode and
Marion did not think Bob-tail looked very badly,
considering that purple is not expected to be very
pretty by gas-light; but the next morning Marion
thought he did look horrible," as she said.
"Oh, I wish we had him back as he was!" she
exclaimed. I don't think purple is in good taste
for kittens, and he's almost black anyway, and so
streaked! What shall we do?"
"Ask the old chap; maybe he'll know," said
"Oh, the Chinese Gentleman! Do you dare to
twitch his pigtail, Dode ? asked Marion, in a voice
of awe.



Dode pulled it, and with a great deal of rattling-
more than he had made just to tell the days of the
week up came these letters:
Dirty why, of course, Bob-tail is dirty. That's
trhe, old fellow, if you can't spell! cried Dode.
"Oh, hush, Dody Perhaps that's the way they
spell it in China. How could he know ?" cried
"I don't see that we know any more," said
Teddy. "You'd better ask him again, Dode, how
we can clean him."
Dode twitched the Chinese Gentleman's pig-tail

I should n't want to be so rude to a witch like
him," said Teddy, seriously. He might turn you
into something."
"There are n't any gentleman witches in my
book," said Marion, doubtfully; "but perhaps they
have them in China. Pull him once more, Dode,
and be awfully polite."
Dode pulled, and TRY came up, very straight
and trim.
"Try! So we will. We will wash him like
everything," said Marion.
And into the bath-tub went poor Bob-tail as soon
as they came from school that afternoon, and such


again, he being the only one who had the courage a scrubbing as he had it is probable that no other
to do it. kitten was ever compelled to endure since the
STAY came up, the letters askew, as if he were world began.
in a great hurry. They could hardly tell whether he looked any
"Stay? What does he mean by that? We better or not that night, he was so wet, and drag-
wont let Bob-tail stay purple, if that's what you gled, and unhappy. And the next morning he
mean, my ancient chap," said Dode, whose bump was still shivering, and seemed, as Marion said,
of reverence was but small. "as if he were going to have a fit of sickness."


The purple had come off a good deal, but that was
no comfort if he were going to die !
I 'd a good deal rather have him pur-pur-purple
than not to have him a ter-ter-tall!" cried the
Oh, Dode, ask the Chinese Gentleman what we
shall do for him !" exclaimed Marion.
All right," said Dode. It 's Friday to-day,
isn't it?"
"What has that to do with it?" demanded
Oh, nothing," said Dode, only he '11 be sure
not to say the same that he did yesterday."
"What do you mean, Dode? said Marion.
Oh, nothing, only they never repeat themselves
in China," said Dode, who could be very disagree-
able about keeping things to himself.
He jerked the pigtail, and IRDF greeted the
children's astonished eyes.
What does it mean? exclaimed Marion.
"It's probably Chinese. If you only understood
Chinese you 'd know just how to cure Bob-tail. I'll
pull again and ask him to speak English."
The pigtail being jerked, up came these letters:
"That's English, anyway! And I don't sup-
pose he 's quite dry, or he would n't shiver so.
Let 's wrap him up in warm blankets."
The Chinese Gentleman's command was accord-
ingly obeyed, and in twenty-four hours Bob-tail
was himself again, and really more a white kitten
than a purple one.
Sunday afternoon, it happened that Dode and
Marion were alone in the nursery. Marion, who
had been earnestly looking at the Gentleman from
China, suddenly said, in a very serious tone:
Dode, do you think he really is a witch ? "
Oh, you goose! I should think anybody
might see through that," said Dode, who was in
an unusually good-natured mood. I broke him,
trying to find out how he was made, and now,
instead of coming up in order, the letters that
make the name of the day come any way; that's
all. Sometimes it makes a word, and sometimes
it does n't. It has happened queerly, sometimes,

and that's all. Yesterday I pulled him, and he
said DUTY; now we '11 see what he '11 say."
DUNS came up, at which Dode clapped his
hands provokingly, and declared that the old
Chinee had some sense, after all; for if that did n't
spell" dunce," what did it spell? and did n't it just
describe the girl that thought he was a witch ? It
was rather hard to make Marion believe Dode's
simple explanation, and he told her, grandly, that
"half the grown people in the world could be
humbugged by a simple thing like that, which any
fellow, with a head on his shoulders, could explain
to them in two minutes."
Teddy, on being summoned, was inclined to
agree with Marion in thinking that the Chinese
Gentleman must have brains, instead of machinery,
in the head which that wonderful pigtail grew out
But they all united in one opinion, that he was
"the splendidest fun they ever had; and if Aunt
Esther did buy him, he made amends for all the
useful presents she had ever given them."
It happened that Aunt Esther came to see them
the very next day. The first thing that she said,
when she came into the nursery, was:
I am very glad to hear that you like the pres-
ent I sent you. I did n't suppose you would, be-
cause it is not a frivolous, useless toy. I am sorry
that it is broken, and I will have it repaired."
Oh, Aunt Esther, please don't! cried Marion.
"We hated him when he went right. We only
like him spoiled "
Aunt Esther heaved a great sigh.
It is just as I might have expected. You never
will care for anything useful. Hereafter, I shall
give my presents to deserving children."
Just at that moment Dode slyly pulled the Chi-
nese Gentleman's pigtail, and-of course it was
very impolite and wrong, but he did n't know any
better-the Chinese Gentleman, running out his
tongue and, it seemed to the children, with a
broader grin than he had ever grinned before,
rattled these letters up into his cap : 0 MY.
And Aunt Esther will not believe, to this day,
that the children did not mean to make fun of her.





LIGHT up the sky! Light up the sky!
The moon is set and the wind is high,
And two little runaways-Madge and I-
Must journey and journey
Till night is done,
To the Land o' Clouds,
To meet the sun.
So, little Lamp-lighter,
The stars must burn brighter,
And whether to Cloud-land
SOr Dream-land, or nearer,
The stars must burn clearer,
For Madge and for me,
To go when the sun comes up
Out of the sea.




IN the "ancient country of Orn, there lived an
old man who was called the Bee-man, because his
whole time was spent in the company of bees. He
lived in a little hut, which was nothing more than
an immense bee-hive, for these little creatures had
built their honey-combs in every corner of the
one room it contained, on the shelves, under the
one little table, all about the rough bench on which
the old man sat, and even about the head-board
and along the sides of his low bed. All day the
air of the room was thick with buzzing insects, but
this did not interfere in any way with the old Bee-
man, who walked in among them, ate his meals,
and went to sleep, without the slightest fear of
being stung. He had lived with the bees so long,
they had become so accustomed to him, and his
skin was so tough and hard, that the bees no more
thought of stinging him than they would of sting-
ing a tree or a stone. A swarm of bees had made
their hive in a pocket of his old leather doublet;
and when he put on this coat to take one of his
long walks in the forest in search of wild bees'
nests, he was very glad to have this hive with him;
for, if he did not find any wild honey, he would
put his hand in his pocket and take out a piece of
a comb for a luncheon. The bees in his pocket
worked very industriously, and he was always cer-
tain of having something to eat with him wherever
he went. He lived principally upon honey; and
when he needed bread or meat, he carried some
nice combs to a village not far away and bartered
them for other food. He was ugly, untidy, shriv-
eled, and brown. He was poor, and the bees
seemed to be his only friends or relations. But,
for all that, he was happy and contented; he had
all the honey he wanted, and his bees, whom he
considered the best company in the world, were as
friendly and sociable as they could be, and seemed
to increase in number every day.
One day, there stopped at the hut of the Bee-
man a Junior Sorcerer. This young person, who
was a student of magic, necromancy, and the
kindred arts, was much interested in the Bee-man,
whom he had frequently noticed in his wanderings.
He had never met with such a being before, and
considered him an admirable subject for study.
He got a great deal of useful practice by endeavor-
ing to find out, by the various rules and laws of
sorcery, exactly why the old Bee-man did not hap-
pen to be something that he was not, and why he
was what he happened to be. He had studied

a good while at this matter, and had found out
"Do you know," he said, when the Bee-man
came out of his hut, that you have been trans-
formed ? "
What do you mean by that?" said the other,
much surprised.
"You have surely heard of animals and human
beings who have been magically transformed into
different kinds of creatures ? "
"Yes, I have heard of these things," said the
Bee-man; but what have I been transformed
from? "
"That is more than I know," said the Junior
Sorcerer. But one thing is certain- you ought
to be changed back. If you will find out what
you have been transformed from, I will see that
you are made all right again. Nothing would
please me better than to attend to such a case."
And, having a great many things to study and
investigate, the Junior Sorcerer went his way.
This information greatly disturbed the mind of
the Bee-man. If he had been changed from
something else he ought to be that other thing,
whatever it was. He ran after the young man,
and overtook him.
"If you know, kind sir," he said, that I have
been transformed, you surely are able to tell me
what it is 1 was."
"No," said the Junior Sorcerer, "my studies
have not proceeded far enough for that. When I
become a senior I can tell you all about it. But,
in the meantime, it will be well for you to try to
discover for yourself your original form, and when
you have done that, I will get some of the learned
masters of my art to restore you to it. It will be
easy enough to do that, but you could not expect
them to take the time and trouble to find out what
it was."
And, with these words, he hurried away, and
was soon lost to view.
Greatly disquieted, the Bee-man retraced his
steps, and went to his hut. Never before had he
heard anything which had so troubled him.
I wonder what I was transformed from? he
thought, seating* himself on his rough bench.
"Could it have been a giant, or a powerful
prince, or some gorgeous being whom the magi-
cians or the fairies wished to punish ? It may be
that I was a dog or a horse, or perhaps a fiery
dragon or a horrid snake. I hope it was not one



of these. But, whatever it was, every one has
certainly a right to his original form, and I am
resolved to find out mine. I will start early to-
morrow morning, and I am sorry now that I have
not more pockets to my old doublet, so that I
might carry more bees and more honey for my
He spent the rest of the day in making a hive of
twigs and straw, and, having transferred to this a
colony of bees that had just swarmed and a great
many honey-combs, he rose before sunrise the
next day, and having put on his leather doublet,
and having bound his new hive to his back, he set
forth on his quest, the bees who were to accom-
pany him buzzing around him like a cloud.
As the Bee-man passed through the little village
the people greatly wondered at his queer appear-
ance, with the hive upon his back. The Bee-man
is going on a long expedition this time," they said;
but no one imagined the strange business on which
he was bent. About noon he sat down under a
tree, near a beautiful meadow covered with blos-
soms, and ate a little honey. Then he untied his
hive and stretched himself out on the grass to rest.
As he gazed upon his bees hovering about him,
some going out to the blossoms in the sunshine,
and some returning laden with the sweet pollen,
he thought that he noticed a bee who was a stran-
ger to him. He was so familiar with his own bees
that he could distinguish an outsider.
This stranger seems very bu3y," he said aloud.
"I wonder what it wants of my bees?"
As he said this, a large and very beautiful bee
alighted on his knee, and looking up at him said,
in a clear little voice: I want only to know where
you are going, and what you intend to do. And I
have been asking your bees about it."
My bees can't talk,"' said the Bee-man, in
"They can talk to me," said the bee, and I
can talk to you. I am really a fairy, and have
taken the form of a bee for purposes of my own."
Then you have been transformed," cried the
Bee-man, and no doubt you know all about that
sort of thing "
I know a good deal about it," said the Fairy.
Your bees say you are greatly troubled. What
has happened to you?"
Then the Bee-man, Ivith much earnestness, told
all that had occurred, and what he was trying to
find out.
"So you have been transformed, have you?"
said the Fairy bee, "and you want to know what
your original form was. That is curious, and, if
you choose, I will go with you and help you. The
case is very interesting."
Oh, that will be an excellent thing said the

Bee-man. "If you help me,-I shall be sure to
find out everything."
"But you should consider," said the Fairy,
"that you may have been some dreadful creature.
In that case, it would be well to know nothing
about it."
Oh, no," cried the Bee-man. It is not honest
for any person to have a form that is not originally
his own. No matter what I was before, I am de-
termined to be changed back. I shall never be
satisfied to live in a false form."
Very well," said the Fairy, I will help you
all I can."
And when the Bee-man started out again, the
Fairy bee went with him.
How did you expect to do this thing," said
the Fairy, when you first set out? "
"I supposed I should find my original form,"
said the Bee-man, "very much as I find bee trees.
When I come to one I know it."
That maybe a very good plan," said the Fairy,
"and when you see anything in your original form
you may be drawn toward it."
I have no doubt of it," said the Bee-man.
It was not long after this that the Bee-man and
his companion entered a fair domain. Around
them were rich fields, splendid forests, and lovely
gardens, while at a little distance stood the beauti-
ful palace of the Lord of the Domain. Richly
dressed people were walking about or sitting in the
shade of the trees and arbors; splendidly capari-
soned horses were waiting for their riders, and
everywhere were seen signs of opulence and
"I think," said the Bee-man, "that I should
like to stop here for a time. If it should happen
that I was originally like any one of these happy
creatures, it would please me much."
"Very well," said the Fairy bee. "I suppose
we might as well stop here as anywhere."
"Perhaps," said the Bee-man, "you can help
me to pick out my original form."
No," said the Fairy, that you must discover
for yourself. But if you are so drawn toward any
living creature that you feel certain that once you
must have been like it, then, perhaps, I can help
The Bee-man untied his hive, and hid it behind
some bushes, and taking off his old doublet, laid
that beside it. It would not do to have his bees
flying about him if he wished to go among the
inhabitants of this fair domain.
For two days the Bee-man wandered about the
palace and its grounds, avoiding notice as much as
possible, but looking at everything. He saw hand-
some men and lovely ladies; the finest horses, dogs,
and cattle that were ever known; beautiful birds



in cages, and fishes in crystal globes, and it seemed
to him that the best of all living things were here
At the close of the second day, the Bee-man
said to the Fairy, who had accompanied him every-
where: "There is one being here toward whom I

What are you doing here, you vile beggar? "
he cried; and he gave him a kick that sent him
quite over some bushes that grew by the side of
the path.
The Bee-man came down upon a grass-plat on
the other side of the path, and getting to his feet


feel very much drawn, and that is the Lord of the
Indeed said the Fairy. "Do you think you
were once like him ? "
I can not say for certain," replied the Bee-man,
"but it wbuld be a very fine thing if it were so;
and it seems impossible for me to be drawn toward
any other being in the domain when I look upon
him, so handsome, rich, and powerful."
Well, I have nothing to say about it," said the
Fairy. "You must decide the matter for yourself.
But I advise you to observe him more closely, and
feel more sure of the matter, before you apply to
the sorcerers to change you back into a lord of a
fair domain."
The next morning, the Bee-man saw the Lord
of the Domain walking in his gardens. He slipped
along the shady paths, and followed him so as to
observe him closely, and find out if he were really
drawn toward this gracious and handsome being.
The Lord of the Domain walked on for some time,
not noticing that the Bee-man was behind him.
But suddenly turning, he saw the little old man.

he ran as fast as he could to the bush where he
had hidden his hive and his old doublet.
"Do you still," said the Fairy, "feel drawn
toward the Lord of the Domain? "
4'No, indeed," replied the other, much excited.
"If I am certain of anything, it is that I was never
a person who would kick a poor old Bee-man, like
myself. Let us leave this place. I was trans-
formed from nothing that I see here."
The two now traveled for a day or two longer,
and then they came to a great black mountain,
near the bottom of which was an opening like the
mouth of a cave.
"This mountain," said the Fairy, "is filled
with caverns and under-ground passages, which
are the abodes of dragons, evil spirits, horrid creat-
ures of all kinds. Would you like to visit it ?"
"Well," said the Bee-man with a sigh, I sup-
pose I ought to. If I am going to do this thing
properly, I should look on all sides of the subject,
and I may have been one of those horrid creatures
Thereupon they went to the mountain, and as



they approached the opening of the passage which
led into its inmost recesses they saw, sitting upon
the ground, and leaning his back against a tree, a
Languid Youth.
Good-day," said this individual when he saw
the Bee-man. "Are you going inside?"
"Yes," said the Bee-man, "that is what I am
going to do."
"Then," said the Languid Youth, slowly rising
to his feet, I think I will go with you. I was
told that if I went in there I should get my ener-
gies toned up, and they need it very much ; but I
did not feel equal to going in by myself, and I
thought I would wait until some one came along.
I am very glad to see you, and we will go in to-
So the two went into the cave accompanied by
the Fairy, whom the Languid Youth had not
noticed. They had proceeded but a short distance
when they met a little creature, whom it was easy
to recognize as a Very Imp. He was about two
feet high and resembled in color a freshly polished
pair of boots. He was extremely lively and active,
and as he came bounding toward them, his quick
eye perceived the Fairy bee, and, paying no atten-
tion to the Bee-man and his companion, he imme-
diately entered into conversation with her.
"So you are changed into a bee, are you?"
said he. "That is queer. But you need not keep
up that-sort of thing in here. I wish you would
change back into a fairy. I like you ever so
much better that way."
"I have no doubt of it," said the Fairy, "for then
I would not have any sting. I know what you
want to do. You want to put me in a jar and
pickle me."
"That is exactly it," said the Very Imp. "I
have got lots of things in pickle, but I never had a
pickled fairy: but if I can't get hold of you I sup-
pose I shall have to give it up. What did you
bring these two people here for ? "
I did not bring both of them," said the Fairy.
"That younger one came here to have his energies
toned up."
"He has come to the right place," said the Very
Imp, giving himself a bounce like an India-rubber
ball. We will tone him up. And what does that
old Bee-man want ?"
He has been transformed from something, and
wants to find out what it is. He thinks he may
have been one of the things in here."
"I should not wonder if that were so," said the
Very Imp, rolling his head on one side, and eying
the Bee-man with a critical gaze. "There is
something about him that reminds me of one of
those double-tailed dragons with red-hot claws, that
live in the upper part of the mountain. I will take
VOL. XI.-4.

him to one of them, and see if we can make a'
"No, you wont," said the Fairy bee. He is
under my protection. He shall see all these creat-
ures, and if he feels a drawing toward any of them
as if he must once have been the same kind of thing
himself, I will know if it is really so, and he will
be changed back."
All right," said the Very Imp; you can take
him around, and let him pick out his previous ex-
istence. We have here all sorts of vile creepers,
crawlers, hissers, and snorters. I suppose he thinks
anything will be better than a Bee-man."
It is not because he wants to be better than he
is," said the Fairy bee, ." that he started out on
this search. He has simply an honest desire to
become what he originally was."
Oh, that is it, is it ? said the other. There
is an idiotic moon-calf here with a clam head,
which must be just like what the Bee-man used
to be."
Nonsense," said the Fairy bee. "You have

S : .-' ;

not the least idea what an honest purpose is. I
shall take him about, and let him choose for him-
Go ahead," said the Very Imp, and I will
attend to this fellow who wants to be toned up."
So saying he joined the Languid-Youth.
"Look here," said that i,.ii. ;.,, ,1. regarding



him with interest, do you black and shine your-
self every morning ? "
No," said the other, it is water-proof varnish.
You want to be invigorated, don't you? Well, I
will tell you a splendid way to begin. You see
that Bee-man has put down his hive and his coat
with the bees in it. Just wait till he gets out of
sight, and then catch a lot of those bees, and
squeeze them flat. If you spread them on a sticky
rag, and make a plaster, and put it on the small
of your back, it will invigorate you like everything,
especially if some of the bees are not quite dead."
"Yes," said the Languid Youth, looking at him
with his mild eyes, "if I had energy enough to
catch a-bee I would be satisfied. Suppose you
catch a lot for me."
The subject is changed," said the Very Imp.
"We are now about to visit the spacious chamber
of the King of the Snap-dragons."
That is a flower," said the Languid Youth.
"You will find him a gay old blossom," said
the other. "When he has chased you round
his room, and has blown sparks at you, and has
snorted and howled, and cracked his tail, and
snapped his jaws like a pair of anvils, your ener-
gies will be toned up higher than ever before in
your life."
"No doubt of it," said the Languid Youth;
"but I think I will begin with something a little
"Well then," said the other, "there is a flat-
tailed Demon of the Gorge in here. He is gener-
ally asleep, and, if you say so, you can slip into
the farthest corner of his cave, and I'll solder
his tail to the opposite wall. Then he will rage.
and roar, but he can't get at you, for he does n't
reach all the way across his cave; I have meas-
ured him. It will tone you up wonderfully to sit
there and watch him."
Very likely," said the Languid Youth; "but
I would rather stay outside and let you go up in
the corner. The performance in that way will
be more interesting to me."
"You are dreadfully hard to please," said the
Very Imp. "I have offered them to you loose,
and I have offered them fastened to a wall, and
now the best thing I can do is to give you a chance
at one of them that can't move at all. It is the
Ghastly Griffin, and is enchanted. He can't stir
so much as the tip of his whiskers for a thousand
years. You can go to his cave and examine him
just as if he was stuffed, and then you can sit on
his back and think how it would be if you should
live to be a thousand years old, and he should
wake up while you are sitting there. It would be
easy to imagine a lot of horrible things he would
do to you when you look at his open mouth with

its awful fangs, his dreadful claws, and his horrible
wings all covered with spikes."
"I think that might suit me," said the Lan-
guid Youth. "I would much rather imagine the
exercises of these monsters than to see.them really
going on."
"Come on, then," said the Very Imp, and he
led the way to the cave of the Ghastly Griffin.
The Bee-man and the Fairy bee went together
through a great part of the mountain, and looked
into many of its gloomy caves and recesses, the
Bee-man recoiling in horror from most of the
dreadful monsters who met his eyes. Many of
these would have sprung upon him and torn him
to pieces had not the Fairy bee let them know that
the old man was under her protection and, there-
fore, could not be touched by any of them. While
they were wandering about, an awful roar was
heard resounding through the passages of the
mountain, and soon there came flapping along
an enormous dragon, with body black as night, and
wings and tail of fiery red. In his great fore-claws
he bore a little baby.
What is he going to do with that?" asked the
Bee-man, shrinking back as the monster passed.
S" He will take it into his cave and devour it, I
suppose," said the Fairy bee.
Can't you save it? cried the other.
"No," said the Fairy. "I know nothing about
that baby, and have no power to protect it. I have
only authority from our Queen to act as your

They saw the dragon enter a cave not far away,
and they followed and looked in. The dragon
was crouched upon the ground with the little baby
lying before him. It did not seem to be hurt, but
was frightened and crying. The monster was
looking upon it with delight, as if he intended to
make a dainty meal of it as soon as his appetite
should be a little stronger.
"It is too bad!" exclaimed the Bee man.
"Somebody ought to do something." And *turn-
ing around, he ran away as fast as he could.
He ran through various passages until he came
to the spot where he had left his bee-hive. Pick-
ing it up, he hurried back, carrying the hive in his
two hands before lIim. When he reached the cave
of the dragon, he looked in and saw the monster
still crouched over the weeping child. Without a
moment's hesitation, the Bee-man rushed into the
cave and threw his hive straight into the face of
the dragon. The bees, enraged by the shock,
rushed out in an angry crowd and immediately
fell upon the head, mouth, eyes, and nose of the
dragon. The great monster, astounded by this
sudden attack, and driven almost wild by the num-
berless stings of the bees, started suddenly back



to the farthest portion of his cave, still followed by
his relentless enemies, at whom he flapped wildly
with his great wings and struck with his paws.
While the dragon was thus engaged with the bees,
the Bee-man sprang forward and, seizing the child,
he rushed away. He did not stop to pick up his
doublet, but kept on until he was out of the caves.
The Fairy bee followed him; but perceiving the

The Fairy bee said no more; but, flying on, she
soon came to the outside opening, beyond which
she saw the Languid Youth talking to the Bee-man,
who still held the child in his arms.
"You need not be in a hurry now," said the
former, for the rules of this institution don't allow
the creatures inside to come out of this opening, or
to hang around it. If they did, they would frighten


Very Imp hopping along on one leg, and rubbing
his back and shoulders with his hands, she stopped
to inquire what was the matter, and what had
become of the Languid Youth.
'' He is no kind of a fellow," said the Very Imp.
"He disappointed me dreadfully. I took him up
to the Ghastly Griffin, and told him the thing was
enchanted, and that he might sit on its back and
think about what it could do if it was awake ; and
when he came near it the wretched creature opened
its eyes, and raised its head, and then you ought
to have seen how mad that simpleton was. He
made a dash at me and seized me by the ears;
he kicked and beat me till I can scarcely move."
"His energies must have been toned up a good
deal," said the Fairy bee.
"Toned up I should say so cried the other.
I raised a howl, and a Scissor-jawed Clipper came
out of his hole, and got after him ; but that lazy
fool ran so fast that he could not be caught."

away visitors. They go in and out of holes in the
upper part of the mountain."
The Bee-man now walked on, accompanied by'
the other. That wretched Imp," said the latter,
" cheated me into going up to a Griffin, which he
said was enchanted. I gave the little scoundrel a
thrashing, and then a great thing, with clashing
jaws and legs like a grasshopper, rushed after me
and chased me clean out of the place. All this
warmed me up, and.did my energies a lot of good.
What are you going to do with that baby ? "
I shall carry it along with me," said the Bee-
sman, as I go on with my search, and perhaps I
may find its mother. If I do not, I shall give it to
somebody in that little village yonder. Anything
would be better than leaving it to be devoured by
that horrid dragon."
"Let me carry it. I feel quite strong enough
now to carry a baby."
"Thank you," said the Bee-man, "but I can


take it myself. I like to carry something, and I
have now neither my hive nor my doublet."
It is very well that you had to leave them be-
hind," said the Youth, for the bees would have
stung the baby."
My bees never stung babies," said the other.
They probably never had a chance," remarked
his companion. "But there is one bee flying
about you now. Shall I kill it?"
"Oh, no!" cried the Bee-man. "That is a
fairy bee. She is my protector."
The Youth-was very much astonished, and looked
at the Fairy bee with wide-open eyes; and when
she flew near him, and spoke to him, he was so
much amazed that he could not answer.
Yes," she said, I 'm a fairy, and I 'm taking
care of this old man. I do not tell him' where to go,
or what to do, but I see that he comes to no harm."
It is very good of you," faltered the Youth.
He was trying to think of some other complimentary
remark, but they had now entered the village, and
something ahead of them attracted his attention. In
a moment, he exclaimed: "Do you see that woman
over there, sitting at the door of her house ? She
has beautiful hair, and she is tearing it all to
pieces. She should not be allowed to do that."
"No," said the Bee-man. "Her friends should
tie her hands."
It would be much better to give her-her child,"
said the Fairy bee. "Then she will no longer
think. of tearing her hair."
"But," the Bee-man said, "you don't really
think this is her child ?"
"Just you go over and see," replied the Fairy.
The Bee-man hesitated a moment, and then he
walked toward the woman with the baby. When
the woman heard him coming, she raised her head,
and when she saw the child she rushed toward it,
snatched it into her arms and, screaming with joy,
.she covered it with kisses. Then, with joyful
tears, she begged to know the story of the rescue
of her child, whom she never expected to see
again; and she loaded the Bee-man with thanks
and blessings. The friends and neighbors gathered
around, and there was great rejoicing. The mother
urged the Bee-man and the Youth to stay with her,
and rest and refresh themselves, which they were
glad to do, as they were tired and hungry.
The next morning the Youth remarked that he
felt so well and vigorous that he thought he would
go on to his home across a;distant plain. "If I
have another fit of ]ii .i;r..,," he said, "I will
come back and renew my acquaintance with the
Very Imp. But, before I go, I would suggest that.
something be done to prevent that dragon from
returning after the child."
I have attended to that," said the Fairy bee.

"Last night I flew away, and got permission to
protect the infant, and I have given it a little sting
on its forehead which will so mark it that all drag-
ons and other evil creatures will know it is under
fairy protection. It hurt a little at first; but that
was soon over, and the scar will scarcely be noticed
by common eyes."
"A good idea," said the Youth, "and it was
very generous in you to think of it." And, so
saying, he took his leave.
And now," said the Fairy bee to the Bee-man,
" I suppose we might as well go on."
Not just yet," said the other. This is a
very pleasant place to rest, and I am tired."
The Bee-man remained at the cottage all day,
and in the evening he said to the Fairy: "Do
you know that I never felt drawn toward anything
so much as toward this baby ? And I believe that
I was transformed from a baby."
That is it," cried the Fairy bee. I knew it
all the time, but you had to find it out for your-
self. Your original form was that of a baby.
Would you like to be changed back ? "
"Indeed I would," said the Bee-man. "I have
the strongest yearning to be what I originally was."
That night' the Fairy bee flew away, and in-
formed the Junior Sorcerer and his Masters that
the Bee-man had discovered what he had been
transformed from, and desired to be changed back.
The Junior Sorcerer was very much interested, and
with some of his learned friends he journeyed
down to the mother's cottage. And there, by
magic arts, the Bee-man was changed into a baby.
The mother was so grateful to the Bee-man that
she agreed to take charge of this baby, and bring
it up as her own.
"It will be a grand thing for him," said the
Junior Sorcerer, "and I am glad that I studied
his case. He will now have a fresh start in life,
and will have a chance to become something better
than a miserable old man, living in a wretched hut
with no friends or companions but buzzing bees."
The junior Sorcerer and his Masters then re-
turned to their homes; and the Fairy bee; having
vaccinated the new baby against dragons, flew
away to her Queen, and resumed her usual form.
Years and years afterward, when the Junior
Sorcerer had become a Senior, and was very old
indeed; he passed through the country of Orn and
noticed a small hut about which swarms of bees
were flying. He approached it and, looking in
at the door, saw an old man in a leather doublet,
sitting at a table, eating honey. By his magic
art, he knew this was the baby which had been
transformed from the Bee-man.
"Upon my word!" exclaimed the Sorcerer.
He has grown into the same thing again "



i; C

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sn\ : ~



fo a In Thuf fin. 44!-

B Ltii


AT the corner of Broadway and the street
where little Rolf Kingman lives, there is a
small, neat grocery store kept by a man
named Jacob Dilber. Jacob is red-faced and
rough looking, but he has a good character
in the neighborhood, and Friend Haviland,
who lives just opposite Rolf, buys all her
groceries of him because he wont sell any
kind of liquor.
She was in the store one morning, buying
some Kennedy wafers, when Rolf's round
head, under his broad-brimmed hat, showed
itself in the door-way. The shop was quite
crowded, there being in it at least six peo-
ple waiting to be served, and Jacob had a
cross scowl on his face, for the street boys
had teased him unmercifully that morning
by pilfering apples and nuts from the barrels
outside, and he had discovered a counterfeit
trade dollar in his money drawer. Friend
Haviland had not seen him so "put out"
for months.
Can't stand it! he muttered, as he was
writing down his orders. Must have some
protection againstt a set of mis'rable, good-for-
nothing loafers I 'll teach 'em a lesson some day
-just wait till I catch one No, Mrs. Smith," he
said to a shabby-looking woman who asked him a
question from the back of the store; "eggs have
n't ris' I 've been lettin' you have 'em at cost
price, and now I can't afford it. Got to make up
deficiencies somehow !" And Jacob's manner was
gruff even to Friend Haviland, until, counting her
change on the edge of the counter, he spied Rolf's
big, blue eyes peering over it at him. In an instant
Jacob's scowl vanished. A broad smile spread over
his face, and he stopped short in the midst of his
counting to bend his ear and listen to Rolf's won-
derfully sweet, clear voice say, rather softly:
"How do ye feel to-day, Mr. Dilber? Do ye
feel well ?"
"Pretty well! Pretty well, I thank you, sir "
answered Jacob, heartily. "And how doyou feel?"
"I 'm all well," answered Rolf. I have a
scratch pussy made on my thumb," holding up a
dimpled hand for Mr. Dilber's examination. "Oh,


I forgot--it is n't that hand-it 's this one.
But I 'm all well--good-bye "
"Good-bye, my boy-good-bye! Come
again to-morrow," said Jacob, covering the
tiny hand with both his great ones, and
watching the child as he stepped off a soap-
box and quietly left the shop.
Turning again to his duties, it was with
quite a different manner that Jacob gave
Friend Haviland her change.
"Thirty-eight an' two are forty-fifty-
a dollar. Can send 'em home for ye as well
as not; Miss Haviland-no trouble at all.
Thank you 'm Good morning, mum Now
Mrs. Smith, what can I do for you ? Well
-no matter. You can have the eggs for
the same as usual-ten, twelve -there We
'11 throw in one an' call it a 'baker's dozen.'
Never mind thanks-we must do a good
turn for one another sometimes. That lit-
tle chap does me a good turn most every
day. I 'm so used to seeing his bit of a fig-
ger coming in and stepping up on that box
to ask me how I feel, that it's like organ
music to me. I keep that box (he shoved
it there himself one day) o' purpose-he
can't see over the counter without it; and
every day, sure as the sun shines, he trots
down just to inquire about my feelings He
wont take anything,-not a seed-cake even,
-and there 's something in his way that makes
ye think of all the angels at once, and it sets me
up for the day. There's a mighty power in just
a pleasant word now and then."
When Rolf left the shop, he trudged back to his
own door-step. There.he found one of the very
ragamuffins who had been pilfering some of Mr.
Dilber's nuts; he was now. cracking them with a
piece of a brick. Rolf was very fond of human kind,
and his mother's prejudices made nuts a rarity.
So he sat down on the bottom step by the ragamuf-
fin and said, Who are you? "
"I'm Tim Riley," said the boy. "Who are
you ?"
I'm Rolly Kingman, and I'm most as big as
you," said Rolf. I 'm growing' longer every day.


My mamma found a dress what I wore once, and
it's too little for me and Willie 's got to wear it."
I guess she must 'a' found it with a spy-glass
-an' I guess Willie 's a sparrer! said Tim.
"Where did you come from ? "
From Mr. Dilber's; an' I live in this house, 'an
I have a kitty an' a little brother," said Rolly.
Did ye get any nuts at Dilber's? asked Tim.
"No. I did n't ask him for any," said Rolly.
Ho! Well, afore ye get many yards longer,
ye '11 find out that it wastes time to ask for wot ye
want. Never mind, though-ye can have that,"
said Tim, trying to get his teeth into an impossible
inside corner of a walnut, and throwing half a one
into Rolf's lap.
"Did Mr. Dilber give it to you 'thout your'
asking him? said Rolly, thoughtfully.
Ho .Of course not! I tuk it when he was n't

looking Why don't ye eat it? Itr's good. Eat
Don't want to," said Rolf, squeezing it tight in
his little fist.
"Laws !" said Tim. Ye need n't be so savin'
-ye can get plenty of 'em, if ye watch round."
"Don't want to get any," said Rolf. "An'
I'm not goin' to eat it at all."

What did ye go to the shop for, if ye did n't
want sumpthin' ? an' what 'll ye do with a nut if
ye don't eat it? ". asked Tim.
I'll give it back to Mr. Dilber," said Rolf.
"It's his, an' it aint- aint "
Rolf was instinctively a gentleman, and thought
an instant before he said: It aint anybody else's.
I don't go to get nuts-I go to ask Mr. Dilber how
does he feel."
Tim giggled and said: "Well, I guess he said
he felt kind o' peppery this mornin'-did n't he ? "
"No," said Rolf, quietly. "He said he
felt pretty well, \ but I don't think he did.
No-I really \" don't." Rolly shook his
head several N times with an
expression of
much anxiety, -
and looking up

into Tim's face, said, mysteriously, "He had a
trouble "
"Ye don't mean it! said Tim. "What kind
of a trouble could it 'a' been, I wonder ? "
"I don't know," said Rolf. "But he's got it,
for he writed it in a book--I saw him An' I 'm
goin' to ask my mamma what makes people well
when they have troubles. But first I 'll give him
back this piece of a nut. If ye want me to, I '11-
I 'll I '11 take them other ones back what you 've
got, an' I'll give 'em to him for ye." And Rolf
said this in such a pleasant voice, holding out his
hand so prettily, that Tim felt something stirring


within him .which he had never felt before. Some-
how, that last bit of a nut had lost its fine flavor,
and he rattled the others uneasily in his pockets.
I '11 do it, if ye want me to," said little Rolf
again,-"only I wont give him back those"-
pointing to the broken shells on the step-" 'cause
you 've ate 'em up--all what's good. But when
you get a penny, you can buy some at the store,
an' you can give 'em back then. Or, if you don't
want to, you can give 'em to me, an' I'll give 'em
back, an' "
Oh, bother interrupted Tim. How 'm I
ever goin' to git a penny? Nobody ever gives
me a cent But ye can take these, if ye likes
- only don't let on that it was me. Don't tell him
I took 'em will ye ?"
No," said Rolf, quite delighted to see the nuts
emptied into his lap. I'11 tell him it's a secret !
Is it a secret? "
"Yes -'course it is," said Tim.
"Then I must n't tell anybody," said Rolf. If
you tell a secret to more than just one person, it
is n't a secret any more-my papa says so." And
so saying, the little fellow gathered his skirts into
a knot to accommodate the nuts, and traveled off a
second time to Mr. Dilber's.
Very soon he came running back, and his big
eyes shone as he said to Tim: I put 'em all out
on the counter, an I told Mr. Dilber I did n't take
'em, but a boy did-a boy what's sorry, an' wont
do it another time, an' I said the boy's name was
a secret. An' I guess it's good for troubles to take
back things, 'cause it made Mr. Dilber laugh. So
now he can cratchh the trouble out of his book if
he wants to."
Now, Rolf was too little to understand what he
had done. A child so carefully reared as he was
acquires a sense of justice at a very early age, and
he took back the nuts without any real sense of the
fact that Tim had stolen them, or that it was a
crime to steal, but simply as he would give his little
brother a toy which belonged to him. The nuts
were Mr. Dilber's, and Mr. Dilber ought to have
them- that was all.
But Tim was nearly twice as old as Rolf, and
understood the lesson better. When Rolf's mother
called him in, Tim sat still a long while thinking.
He had heard plenty of people talk about steal-
ing, and been addressed many a time as a young
sinner, and called to repentance. But nobody
had ever made him want to repent before.
"There he was-nothin' but a baby," said Tim
to himself, setting' aside o' me an' looking' up to
me as if I was just exackly as good as him An'
he kind o' laughed up beautiful in my face, an' he
looked as if he was as good-right through to his
bones-as-as a hull church I wisht his mother

had n't 'a' called him in I guess if she 'd seen
him talking' to me, though, she 'd 'a' called him
sooner. Laws! would n't she have been scared?
Why, he don't know nothing' bad, I don't believe !
An' I know how to steal"--and Tim counted over
his sins on-his fingers-" to steal, an' to fight, an'
to tell lies-my, ok! such rousin' ones as I can
tell 'd take the crinkle out o' her hair in a jiffy !
All the same," he said, heaving a great sigh as he
rose and looked up at the windows, I wisht she
had n't called him in! I would n't let on to him
what I knows-an' I wisht I had a penny !"

THE next day, Rolf left his tin cart on the door-
step while he ran down to Mr. Dilber's. When he
came back the cart was gone, and there was a
scuffle among some boys farther down the street.
Rolf drew himself together, looking very forlorn,
and was just about to raise a cry when out from
the group of quarreling boys darted Tim with the
cart. Racing as fast as his legs could take him to
Rolf's house, he placed the toy in the child's hands,
and squared round in front of him, with -fists ready
for the boys, if necessary. But they, seeing the
front door open, passed on with only a few sneers
for Tim's benefit. Tim, betousled, sat down to
right his much abused cap, and to get his breath.
"Those boys are n't polite said Rolf.
"They aint never been to 'Lasco's Dancin'
'Cademy' roun' the corner-so'ye must n't spect
too much of 'em," said Tim, adding, with signifi-
cant gestures, they 've just had a little dance
that 'll teach 'em sumpthin', though "
The boys had another conversation which lasted
until Rolf was called in, as usual. But the next
day, and every day when Rolf went out for his little
airing, he found Tim on the lookout for him, and
their acquaintance grew rapidly. It was Rolf's
custom to play out-of-doors, and take his little trip
to Dilber's grocery while his mother dusted the
parlors, looking out of the windows or stepping to
the door now and then to see if her boy was safe.
Tim watched his chance and talked to Rolf when
she was not in sight, for he held to his first idea
that she would be troubled to see them together,
and he would run away at the first sound of her
voice. Rolf naturally repeated things which "a
boy" had told him, and she saw them together
sometimes, but she knew that Rolf was social in
his disposition, and, not recognizing Tim, thought
only that the boys passing along the street ex-
changed greetings with the child.
But the two were growing meanwhile very fond
of each other. They had formed a friendship with
which time had little to do. Rolf, in his baby way,
accepted Tim as a stanch defender of his rights



and his confidential friend. And Tim grew to
love the little fellow as he had never loved anything
or anybody in his life before.
One day Rolf failed to appear, and although
Tim tried several times from the opposite pave-
ment, he caught no glimpse of him at any of the
The next day, and the next, and many days
went by and Tim did not see his little friend. He
went at all hours to look at the house; but, al-

asked Jacob, gruffly. An' how do ye dare set foot
on,that box when it's put there for him to stand
on when he comes down to the shop? I wont
have anybody touch that box-I wont It stands
there just where he shoved it himself- an' I 'll
break anybody's bones who touches it "
Not a whit did Tim care for Jacob's scolding.
He only squeezed his hands hard together and
cried: "I '11 go, an' I wont touch nothing never,
if ye '11 just tell me what's come to Rolly Rolly


though he saw every other person who lived in it,
and even the cat through the basement blinds, he
saw no Rolf, and his heart was troubled.
One day it occurred to him to ask Mr. Dilber
what was the matter, and he walked into the shop.
He was greeted by being ordered out at once.
Instead of obeying, he walked up to the counter
and, putting his foot on the soap-box which Rolf
used to stand upon, was about to speak, when
Jacob, whose back had been turned for an instant,
saw him and made a dive for him. Tim sprang
toward the door and squared off, shouting at the
top of his voice : I tell ye I don't want nothing,
an' I would n't take it if ye gave it to me I want
to know 'bout Rolly Kingman!" Here there was
a catch in Tim's voice, and he added huskily:
" What's come to him?"
It was Rolly's name that caught Jacob's atten-
tion --not the catch in Tim's voice.
"What do you know about him ? An' what
business is it of yours what's come to him?"

likes me, an' nobody ever did afore, an' they never
will. Oh, what's come to him, Mr. Dilber ?"
Jacob saw misery in the boy's face, and his tones
softened as he said: "Well, boy, they say he 's
near to death's door! An' may be, by this time -
may be the Lord Himself has come to him!"
Tim's cry was n't a loud one, but it was desolate.
He dropped his head and trembled. He was turn-
ing to go, when his eye lighted on Rolly's box.
Jacob did not interfere with him then, when he
dropped on his knees before it, and, rubbing it
with his ragged sleeves, said: "I wont-wont
put my foot on it again- no, I -I wont-but-
0 Rolly! Rolly! and his poor face was pressed
down on the box and his tears fell upon it fast.


IT was many weeksafterward that Rolly sat up
in his crib one morning, cutting paper soldiers
and waiting for Tim. For Tim was coming to



see him! The Doctor had told about the poor
boy who waited for him every day in cold or wet,
whether the sun shone or the rain fell, only to hear
how Roily was.
Tim had been hunted up and taken care of. He
had -but wait! Let him tell his good fortune
himself to Rolly.
Halloo !" said Rolly, when Tim showed him-
self with a bunch of lilacs in his hand. If Rolly
had been older, he would have seen Tim's clean face
and neat clothes before he spied the lilacs. As it
was, he had sniffed at the flowers a good while be-
fore he said again: "Halloo you 've got a new
jacket !" And it was then that Tim told what had
happened to him.
"Ye see," said he, "the Doctor axed me to
hold his horse, an' then he seen me everyday, an'
the horse an' me got 'quainted. An' the Doctor
was 'stonished 'cause I held on to the horse when
the fire ingines went by. But before that, he
knowed you an' me was friends. An' I said nobody
did n't know me much 'cept Mr. Dilber, an' he
would n't say nothing' good for me, 'cause I used to
crib nuts an' things. But I was n't fair to Mr. Dil-
ber, for he told the Doctor that he thought if I had
a chance I'd learn how to b'have myself in time.
'Certain sure,' says he, 'he has n't touched any-
thin' o' mine since Rolly Kingman was took sick!'
So the Doctor tried me, an' I'm his boy, an' the
horse an' him both likes me, an' I 'm earnin' my

clothes (your mother gave me two suits to start
with) till I show 'em I can keep my tongue in my
head and 'tend to my business. But I've got a
secret, Rolly, that I'm not going' to tell to any one
but you! And Tim seized his opportunity while
Rolf's mother left the room for a moment.
"Rolly," he whispered, "do ye mind them nuts I
took that day? "
Rolly nodded.
"Well," said Tim, "I told the Doctor, when he
talked to me about earnin' my clothes, that I did
n't want no money but just a penny, an' if he 'd
give me that I would n't ax for another cent. So
he did. An' this is the secret: I bought a cent's
worth o' them same nuts, an' I watched round till
Mr. Dilber did n't see me, an' then I just put every
one of 'em back in the barrel!"
Rolly laughed as if he thought the secret was a.
capital one.
"I '11 tell ye sumpthin' else, too," continued
Tim. "I 'm learning' at night school, an' I 'm
unlearnin' I used to know heaps o' bad things,
but since I tuk those nuts back, an' unlearned how
to how to steal, ye know- it's lots easier than'
I thought it 'd be to unlearn the other things. An'
since you 've been my friend, Rolly, somehow it's
harder to do bad things than it used to be, an' I
think if you're my friend long enough, why bimeby
I '11 forget how altogether an' quite entirely for
evermore !"


A Children's Play for Christmas-Tide. In Two Acts.


POLLY: a little village maid. JACK: Polly's younger brother.
FATHER PINE: an elderly pine.
Two promising young Pinelets,
CONE and SCRUB: sons to Father and Mother Pine.
NEDDIE SHED, Louis SCREw, Four queer little fellows, aids-de-
FELIX DEAN, TINY MITE: camp to Santa Claus.

A snow-covered hill-side in New England.
N. B.-For parlor representation, sides and background of some
rich, red color, bordered with pine-boughs at the top, will be
found most effective. The four pine-trees included in the dramatic
fersonr must be of varying heights, and should be placed at the
rear of the stage. Green is the best color for covering the floor.
An ingenious arrangement of cotton on and about the trees will
give the effect of snow; and a low fence, running directly across
the front of the stage, will lend a certain finish to the scene.

The snow coverlid needed in the play should be made of some
red material, generously covered with cotton, and should be folded,
ready for use, on the floor at the front of the stage. Two low benches
will be needed. These should be placed one on either side toward
the forward part of the stage. The members of the Pine family are
to be impersonated by children, concealed behind the various trees,
with only heads and arms showing. FATHER and MOTHER PINE
must be placed respectively at the back of the largest trees.
MOTHER PINE'S costume should be distinguished from the rest
by a wide-frilled green cap, tied under the chin; a baby held in her
arms may be impersonated by a large doll in green long-clothes.
FATHER PINE, attired in a broad-brimmed green hat, should be
smoking a pipe. It may be necessary to cut away a few branches,
in order to allow the children to stand close to the main stems of the
trees, and to afford them free play of the arms. As the Pine family
is necessarily stationary, as much expression as possible must be
thrown into voice and gesture.
The four aids-de-camp should be respectively costumed in red,
blue, green, and yellow. Imitations of Kate Greenaway costumes
will prove most effective for JACK and POLLY.




4-9- -S -~

-~ ~zt~-~

f the Pine-tree

nas tide, The

4 1I-- -

- -

2. Between bright holly-leaves
Lo! berries red are glowing!
The ivy vine climbs round the pine
From very love of growing.
3. And we, this frosty eve,
Our Christmas watch are keeping;
While cradled low, beneath the snow,
Frail summer blooms are sleeping.
4. Bleak winter storms we brave
With joyous exaltation,
Right proud to be the Christmas-tree
Of every Christian nation. Chorus.

Curtain rises to piano accompaniment o

i. 'Tis mer-ry Christ-
-- j

-- -

I S-1--

air is filled with glad ness, Bid gloo
------- ------ 4 -----

ev ery heart, A truce to care and sa

-- --.- ~ ~ --

-t ~

jdin our Christmas song, And swell

1- 4- "

S ----: -- S

-__ D -

cho rus,While snow lies white this fros

ms e

moon -beams shim- mer o'er

S -- -- -

----=-- J FATHER PINE -, ]. It takes a pretty stout heart
im de-part from to sing that song to-night; that is, with any feeling.
--CONE PINE. Why, Pa? Why?
S SCRUB PINE. Yes; what 's the matter, Daddie? I 'm
sure I feel as jolly as a sixpence. [Begins to whistle.]
MOTHER PINE. Be still, this minute!
q FATHER PINE. Jolly as a sixpence! To be sure you
C do! You 're a flighty young thing, with scarce sense
CHORUS. enough to understand the reason why we should all feel
Anything but jolly. Do you forget that this has been
the first Christmas-day, for many a year, when some one
d-ness. Then of us has not been carried off for a Christmas-tree?
I 'm ashamed of the family. We are degenerating.
CONE PINE. Not a bit of it, Pa! Just look at me!
S- MOTHER PINE. Yes, Cofiie, you are certainly very
promising; and yet, I doubt if you will ever be wanted
for a tree. You are a little spindly, and not quite straight.
---- -- You see, a wood-cutter sat down on you when you were
young, and you never seemed to get over it.
SCRUB. Would I do, Ma?
-- MOTHER PINE. Yes; I am sure you would, Scrubbie;
the mer ry but no one [silhing heavily] has cared for even the best
of us, this year. Your father and I, my dear, have been
-----__ content to live right on here, trusting that you would
-each be a Christmas-tree in your day.
FATHER PINE. Well,-come what will, three of this
- family have been Christmas-trees in their day, and very
fine ones, too. There 's great comfort in that.
CONE. Well, I'm satisfied. It seems to me a deal
more fun to keep sprouting here with the rest of you
than to be tricked out in pop-corn and gimcracks for an
evening, and then thrown into some one's back-yard to
-ty night, And die. I don't mind being crooked and spindly, if it
keeps an old wood-cutter from chopping me down.
S MOTHER PINE. Why, Conie! You can not tell how
..V it grieves me to hear you talk in this fashion. Ah, what
T -7 evil influences will group themselves about one station-
ary little pine-tree. Tell me, Conic, from whom did you
contrive to pick up so many queer expressions ?
CONE. From an old wood-chopper. He said Pa was a
tough old customer, and that there was mighty little sap
F--- left in you, Ma. Then he told us he had two children
us. at home that he was bound to care for. They were n't
l his own, though. They belonged to a soldier-cousin of
his who was killed in a war with the Indians. "Got a
wife?" said I. "Great grief, no! said he. "I 'ma
bachelor, every inch of me; and yet I have to look out
for a pair of youngsters. Hard luck, is n't it, sonny ?"
Well, I don't know," I said. Are they nice children ? "


"Depends upon what you call nice," said he; "they're
well favored as far as looks is concerned, and has kind
of 'cute ways; but their appetites is fearful."
SCRUB PINE. He was a queer old chap, Ma! I asked
him what the children's names were. "What were they
christened ? said he. I did n't understand him; but I
was afraid he 'd dig his pickax into me if I seemed
stupid; so I said, "Yes, sir; that 's what I mean."
"Say so, then," said he. "One's called Jack, and
t' other Polly; but their regular cognomens is John and
CONE PINE [interrupting]. Then I asked him, Ma,
if he was going to have a Christmas-tree for them,
which made him look awful mad, and he said: My
eyes! young offshoot, what do you take me for? It 's
'bout all I can manage to keep 'em in food, and clothes,
and fuel, let alone any such nonsense as a Christmas-
tree. Besides, they 've been extra troublesome lately,
and don't deserve a single thing." Then he looked cross
enough, and said he was tired answering questions, and
he'd advise all us little pinelets to shut right up, if we
did n't want to be cut down for firewood.
MOTHER PINE [very much shocked]. You should
have known better, both of you, than to have anything
to do with a man like that. Why, every other word he
used was slang. You are a great grief to me, Conie.
CONE PINE. "Great grief" is slang, Ma!
MOTHER PINE severelyy. Not when I use it.
SCRUB PINE [innocently]. What is slang, Pa?
FATHER PINE. It is a concise but vulgar form of
expression, originating in institutions of learning, and
much in vogue among young men and women of the
present day. A really high-toned pine-tree would never
indulge in it. You had better write it down, boys.
Where are your slates ?
CONE and PINE. Here, Pa! [Producing slates with
pencils attached.] What shall we write?
FATHER PINE. Write just what I told you.
CONE and SCRUB. What was it about, Pa?
FATHER PINE. About slang, I believe.
CONE and SCRUB. But, Pa! What about slang?
FATHER PINE [impatiently]. I do not at the moment
recall what I said, but never mind! Write it down, all
the same, commencing with a capital I.
[CONE and SCRUB slowly draw a large I on theirslates; then scratch
their heads and seem to be puzzled. JACK and POLLY are heard
singing softly, as if in the distance, the first verse of the
Christmas hymn. The Pine family look surprised, and listen
attentively. ]
CONE and SCRUB. Why- what-is- that?
FATHER PINE [peering into the distance]. It's two
children; they are coming this way.
MOTHER PINE [eagerly]. Let them come. Don't
frighten 'em.
CONE and SCRUB. Pa !
FATHER PINE. Silence, I say! both of you. Eyes
right-so as not to embarrass them.
CONE PINE [looking furtively to the left]. It's a boy
and a girl, Pa.
FATHER PINE. Be quiet. If you speak again I '11
pull you up by the roots.
[JACK and POLLY enter from the left and, while walking about among
the trees, as if in a place unfamiliar to them, sing first and second
verses of Christmas hymn.]

Christmas hymn.

be-f s w S e f C ~a cm Ar
The brave sweet tones of Christ mas chimes Are


S fill ing all

V ^j^

the air,................ Bid
.- -a

/r -f -\-.- --_- ----- -

dis cord.... cease, for won drous peace Is

a 1- -

--- .r- -
brood ing ev ery where......

7 -- -- -
2. "Good-will to men," the blessed strain
Is ringing far and wide;
And all who will may feel the thrill
Of joyous Christmas-tide.

3. Let loving words, and loving deeds
Crowd out each sad regret;
For one short day, good Christians may
Their cares and toils forget.
JACK [interrupting at close of second verse]. Oh,
Polly! Don't let 's go no furder. These mittens are
n't worth a cent for keeping out the cold.
POLLY. Blow your fingers this way, Jack. Don't
give up yet. Where will this year's mittens be coming
from, if we don't find Santa Claus ? Let's sing another
verse, and try and keep our spirits up till we do find him.
[The children wander about once again, and sing third verse of
JACK [stopping abruptly.] It is n't any good.
POLLY. Oh, yes, it is. The Jittle boy said, you know,
that Santa Claus lived in a cottage, on a snowy hill among
the pines.
JACK. Well! here 's the hill, and the pine-trees, and
the snow; but you can see for yourself there 's no sign
of a cottage. [Confidentially] I guess the little boylied.
FATHER PINE. Tut! tut! tut! never say that.
JACK and POLLY [looking up surprised]. Never say
what ?
FATHER PINE. Lied, to be sure! say prevaricated;
it means the same thing, and sounds better.
POLLY [accusingly]. If we 'd known you were listen-
ing, we would n't have said anything. But who ever
heard of pine-trees hearing and talking ?
MOTHER PINE. There are a great many wonderful



things, my dear, which such a small child as yourself
may be presumed not to have heard of.
JACK. And can you eat ?
CONE and SCRUB. Can we!
JACK. What did you say?
CONE and SCRUB. We said we could.
JACK. Could what?
CONE and SCRUB. Why, eat, to be sure !
JACK. And do you like candy rabbits ?
CONE and SCRUB. Love 'em.
JACK [producingapiece of candy]. I have only a part
of one. A little boy gave it to me who got it for his
Christmas. But I guess I had better give it to the baby.
May she have it, Mrs. Pine ?
MOTHER PINE. Certainly, my dear, if you do not
want it yourself.
JACK. But I do.
MOTHER PINE. Then keep it.
JACK. No, I wont! There, then ![ '. -" Mother
Pineforthe baby]. My Sunday-school teacher says," There
's no credit in giving only what you 've got no use for."
CONE and SCRUB. Three cheers for Jack! Hip-
JACK [interrupting]. Oh, please don't both talk at
once It frightens me so !
CONE and SCRUB. We wont, then.
JACK. But you 're doing it now [very despairingly].
CONE and SCRUB. We wont do it again.
FATHER PINE. See that you don't, boys. I will not
allow it. But look here, Jack and Polly, tell me what
do you. want way up here ? for it's growing late, and you
ought to be at home, and in bed. Where do you live ?
POLLY. In that little cottage, yonder, way down at the
foot of the hill. You can just see the light in the kitchen
window from here.
JACK [sadly]. But you can't smell the muffins.
POLLY. Never mind, Jack! What's muffins to find-
ing Santa Claus ? [ Turning to Father Pine.] I guess
you must have heard us say, sir, that we were hunting
for Santa Claus. We want to talk matters over with
him. Our Uncle Dick says we do not deserve any
presents ; but don't you think it 's pretty hard for little
folks like us not to have just a little Christmas?
CONE and SCRUB [indignantly]. To be sure we do.
JACK. There! You've broken your promise.
CONE and SCRUB. Beg your pardon, Jack; we forgot.
JACK. Well, please don't forget again.
POLLY. You see, Mr. Pine, Jack thinks he 'll be a
better boy next year, and I know I shall be a better girl;
so if we could only see Santa Claus our own selves and
tell him so, I believe he would give us something. We
really need it. We have no father nor mother, and Jack's
mittens look are almost worn out.
FATHER PINE [gravely]. But how can I help you,
my dear ? Santa Claus does not live here.
POLLY. Does n't he ?
JACK. No where near?
FATHER PINE. Whoever told you he did, prevaricated.
Don't forget that word; say it after me: pre-var-i-ca-ted.
Now all together !
CONE and SCRUB. ) var ca-ted.
JACK and POLLY. Pre-var-i-ca-ted.
[The dwarfs, or aids-de-camp to Santa Claus, are heard singing the
air of Homeward March softly in the distance.]

FATHER PINE. Really, I'm very sorry for you; I--
JACK [- to the music]. Oh! what is that ?
FATHER PINE. Only the boys, singing as they come
JACK and POLLY [excitedly]. And who are the boys ?
FATHER PINE. Oh, a jolly set of fellows who live up
here. Crawl in under my boughs, and they wont see you;
but they would not hurt you if they did.

[Dwarfs enter, keeping step to the music, and when fairly upon the
stage commence singing. Descriptive gestures introduced at
the same moment by each little dwarf, and of studied similarity,
will add greatly to the taking" properties of the song.]
NHomewavad Miarch.

Up hill sides steep and drear y, 'Neath

_-4 ---
.- -4-

skies so chill and gray, We've trudged, worn-out and

I -- __._g= _s -__- __ _-j

wea ry, This live -long day. But no wise el fin

--- --~- ~~,"-~-~-i-

rov- er Need an y far-ther roam, For


-- _z-=I_- -_----_---

]o i our jour-ney's o ver, We've reached our home.

-- i- -





Never were dwarfs enlisted in such a worthy cause
As we while we 've assisted good Santa Claus.
More work had he last season than he could fully do;
And for this simple reason, we 've helped him through.
Such scores of wee doll-mothers waited in every town;
Such ranks of baby brothers, lately come down.
And 't would have been so shocking, if any girls or boys,
Op'ning their Christmas stocking, had found no toys.
Therefore, with hearts most willing, we 've worked our
level best--
Hundreds of stockings filling, no thought of rest.
Such dolls such wondrous treasure! Such stacks of
Have we, with keenest pleasure, dis-trib-u-ted.
Just what each child expected, we 've served on ev'ry
hand -
Not one has been neglected in this great land.
So now, each conscience.easy, softly to bed we '11 creep,
And in this bedroom breezy, all fall asleep.
[During the singing of the last four lines, the dwarfs crawl under the
snow coverlid, and fall asleep, resting their right elbows on the
floor, and their heads on their right hands. J
JACK [after a pause, and in a stage whisper]. Oh,
please, I do not like it. I want to go home.
POLLY [dragging him from under the boughs of the
tree]. Now, Jack, don't be afraid! If they are such
good friends of Santa Claus, they 'll do something for
us. We '11 ask them. [Starts to touch one of them.]
JACK. Oh, no! no no! Don't waken 'em! They're
very tired, and they 'll be awful mad.
POLLY. No, they wont. I '11 risk it, and waken the
one that seems kindest [walking front one to the other,
and bending over each critically]. Snappish cross all
worn out-rather grouty-Well! none of them look
very kind, asleep.
FATHER PINE. Children! [ina subdued tone.]
JACK and POLLY. Yes, sir.
FATHER PINE. Sing a verse of your little hymn. It
will waken them all at once, and waken them in a good
humor. They are very susceptible to music.
[Jack and Polly sing a verse of the Christmas hymn in a frightened
manner, and the dwarfs begin to yawn and stretch, and at the
conclusion of verse sit bolt upright, with folded arms, and look
wonderingly at the children.]

POLLY [timidly]. Please, sirs, we--we-we heard
you say you had been working for Santa Claus, and that
no child had been forgotten; but, please, sirs, you are
mistaken. When Jack and I woke up this morning
there was nothing for us; not one single thing.
Uncle Dick, who takes care of us, says he did not tell
Santa Claus about us, because we did not deserve any
presents. Then we both cried very hard, and were so
disappointed, till a little boy told us Santa Claus lived
somewhere up here, and gave Jack a candy rabbit what
he had gotten for his own Christmas. So that is how
we came up, trying to find him; for really we have not
been so very bad. You see, it seems so to Uncle Dick
because he is not fond of children. Now, could you do
anything for us, sirs ?
JACK [beseechingly]. Yes.; could you ?
ALL THE DWARFS [rising]. Yes; we could.

Louis SCREW. And we could hang your old Uncle
Dick. He deserves it. How would you like that?
POLLY [decidedly]. Oh, we would not like that, sir;
'cause then there would be no one at all to care for us.
JACK. Besides, you see, he 's the muffin man, and
makes splendid muffins what he sells out of a little cart.
[Thoughtfully.] We 'd rather you would not hang him.
FELIX DEAN. We wont, then! But now, look here:
tell us, what would you like for Christmas ?
JACK. A great, big tree.
POLLY. With pretty lanterns.
JACK. [holding up his hands]. And some mittens !
POLLY. And books.
JACK. And a sled, and roller-skates, and candy lots
of candy and a velocipede.
TINY MITE [sarcastically, and in a piping voice]. Is
that all ?
JACK [slowly]. Yes; -that's all,- I think.
NEDDIE SHED. Well, you shall have them. Sit down
yonder, on those little benches, and we 'll fix things up
for you.
[JACK and POLLY sit down on the little benches, and the Dwarfs,
taking hold of hands, dance, to the music of the Lantern Song,
in front of FATHER PINE, during which the curtain falls.]

[During the intermission between the acts, Father Pine must be
trimmed with the usual Christmas-tree decorations. This proc-
ess need consume but very little time, as only the side of the
tree visible to the audience requires decoration. Some of the
toys enumerated by Jack and Polly should be placed at its
base. The curtain rises, discovering Jack and Polly still seated
upon the little benches.]
CONE and SCRUB [looking in wonder at Father
Pine.] Oh, Ma! Just look at Pa! Is n't he splendid?
MOTIER PINE. Yes, dears, splendid. I always knew
he had it in him to make a beautiful Christmas-tree.
What wonderful miracle-workers these little dwarfs are,
to be sure! To think that only a moment ago he was
a sober, green pine, like the rest of us, and now-
well! is n't he magnificent, Polly?
POLLY [with a long-drawn sigh.] Yes, magnificent.
JACK. But it seems to me, a regular Christmas-tree
needs candles, or lanterns, or something.
FATHER PINE. You ungrateful little thing! You
ought to be only too thankful to have any tree at all-
but, hark !
[Enter the Dwarfs, each carrying lighted red lanterns, (the ordinary
isinglass lanterns which come specially prepared for Christmas-
trees are the best for this purpose), and keeping time to the
music of the following song. NEDDIE SHED leads the rest,
and coming to the front of stage, sings the Lantern Song, dur-
ing which the other dwarfs fasten the lighted lanterns to the
tree. Here again descriptive gestures on the part of the solo-
ists will add greatly to the effectiveness of the song. The lights
on the stage should be lowered to make the dwarfs' lanterns
more effective.]

_--_ -ge= __- _- -_ t, =-_ _
O I'm Ned-die Shed of the lan tern red, And

S -o



there fore a lord am I,.......... For

red are the leaves when sum mer's fled, And

red is the sun- set sky........... And

reI- _a e

red are the cheeks of the maid en fair, And

-- __ ---I -

red are the mar i near's lights that flare A -


]oft on the gal lant ships.... Then hang the red

--. --I -. -- -
t -:

lan-terns on ev ery bough And twig of the Christmas

ine.. h --te d -

Pine,... For no Christmas-tree could com-plet ed

4 g -


be With out these red lights of thine .....

[ The Chorus should be sung by the Dwarfs and the PINE
FAMILY, the Dwarfs coming to front of stage and
dancing in perfect time.]
And red are the rubies that maidens coy
Contrast with their snow-white hands,
And red are the seals which great kings employ,
Indorsing their high commands;
And red is the rose whose opening bud
The loveliest grace attains,
And red is the silently coursing blood
Which tingles in mortal veins.
Chorus--Then hang, etc.
[N. B.-If more time is required for arranging the lanterns than is
allowed by the song, let the interlude between the two verses be
a prolonged one. At close of second chorus the Dwarfs dance
off the stage and directly back again, each carrying blue lighted
lanterns, and LouIs SCREW leading the rest, with by-play same
as before, and so in turn "Felix Dean, of the Lantern Green,"
and "Tiny Mite, of the Yellow Light."]
Louis SCREW.
Oh, I'm Louis Screw, of the lantern blue,
And therefore a lord am I,


For blue are the flowers of tend'rest hue,
And blue is the cloudless sky;
And blue are the eyes of the maiden grave
The sailor would make his bride,
And blue is the sweep of the crested wave
That kisses the brave ship's side.
Then hang the blue lanterns on ev'ry bough
And twig of the hardy pine;
For who 'd care to see a brave Christmas-tree
Without these blue lights of tine.
Louis SCREW.
And blue are the turquoise, and wondrous rare,
They set in the king's gold crown;
And blue is the robe he sees fit to wear
On occasions of great renown;
And blue is the tiny forget-me-not,
Which true lovers prize, I ween,
While blood that is red in a Hottentot
Is blue in a king or queen.
Chorus. Then hang the blue lanterns, etc.
Oh, I 'm Felix Dean, of the lantern green,
And therefore a lord am I,
For green is the moss of the deep ravine,
And green are its hemlocks high;
And green is the lane with tall, plumy ferns
Where violets and harebells hide,
And green is the signal the steamer burns
All night on her starboard side.
Then hang the green lanterns on ev'ry bough
And twig of the hardy pine;
For grave as a rook any tree would look,
Without these green lights of tine.
And green is the meimaid whose winning smile
Exerts such a wondrous spell;
And green are the shores of blest Erin's isle,
And green are her folk as well;
And green is the beautiful emerald stone,
That all other gems outvies;
And green, with a green that is all their own,
Are pussy-cats' brilliant eyes.
Chorus: Then hang the green lanterns, etc.
Oh, I li Tiny Mite, of the yellow light,
And therefore a lord am I,
For yellow's the' moon that shines at night
So clear in the dark, dark. sky;
And yellow of hair, I make bold to claim,
Are ladies of high degree;
And yellow and bright is the beacon flame
Which gleams o'er the storm-tossed sea.
Then hang yellow lanterns on ev'ry bough
And twig of the hardy pine;
For nothing, you know, can excel the glow
Of these yellow lights of tine.

And yellow's the ore that the goldsmith molds
For bracelet and brooch and ring,
And rich yellow gold is the cup which holds
The wine of the royal king;
And yellow of hue is the primrose sweet
Wherever maids chance to range,
And yellow's the coin which buys a seat
For you in the Stock Exchange.
Chorus. Then hang yellow lanterns, etc.
[At conclusion of song the Dwarfs take their stand a little in the
background, two on either side of the tree.]
CONE and SCRUB. There, now, Jack, what do you
think of that?
JACK. I don't think at all. I can't think. I 'm too
happy to think.
NEDDIE SHED. Come! help yourselves, children;
step right up to the tree and help yourselves.
LoUIs SCREW [taking JACK by the hand]. Yes, in-
deed! Come right along. Don't be bashful!
[ACK and POLLY leave their benches and, while the air of the Christ-
mas Hymn is played softly, appropriate some of the toys from
the foot of the tree.]
POLLY [standing with her arms full of toys]. Oh, you
have all been so very kind I 'm sure we never dreamt
of anything like this. I do not see how you ever did it !
TINY MITE. Of course you don't. We never tell
how. Besides, you could not understand if we did.
[JACK, loaded with toys, starts to walk quietly off the stage.]
POLLY. Jack! Jack! Where are you going?
JACK. Home.
POLLY. But you have not so much as thanked Mr.
Dean and all the rest of them.
JACK. What's the use? I can't thank 'em enough.
POLLY. And is that any reason why you should not
thank them at all? Come right back, Jack.
[JACK obeys, and POLLY takes him by the hand. ]
POLLY. I would like to make you a fine little speech,
sirs, because of all you have done for us; but you would
only wonder how I did it, and [slyly] I never tell how;
so I'11 just say that we are very much-
JACK. Don't make such a fuss, Polly! Just say
"Thanks and be done with it.
FATHER PINE. Oh, I do hope you will not "just
say" anything of the kind. If there is a barbarous
abbreviation in the English language, it is that word
"Thanks." It is lazy; it is common. I sincerely hope
it may never again be uttered in my presence. What
has become of the courtly, old-fashioned "No, I thank
you," and "Yes, I thank you "- But I am lecturing.
POLLY [.'.*.* :;' ]. And Jack is almost crying, Mr.
FATHER PINE. No cause for tears, Jack! Now run
along home, and show your presents to your uncle.
JACK [ .. :.' the Dwarfs]. What-what are you
going to do with all the other things ?
NEDDIE SHED. Well Suggestions are in order.
JACK. I would like something for Uncle Dick, though
he does not deserve anything.
POLLY. And there are a good many other people in
the 'town besides Uncle Dick- real nice people, too.



LoUIS SCREW. Is that so ? Then I '11 tell you what
we 'l1 do. Lay your toys down here; they '11 be safe.
Cone and Scrub will watch them, and we '11 all load up
and carry some presents to your friends. Do you
approve of that, Miss Polly ?
POLLY. Why, I 'd rather do that than have a Christ-
mas of my own. Would n't you, Jack ?
JACK [hesitating]. No, I would n't; but I think it
would be very nice, very nice, indeed, to have both.

FATHER PINE. That 's right, Jack; whatever else
you do, always speak the truth, and now, Mother and
Cone and Scrub, we can surely sing our old carol
merrily enough.
[The Pine family sing the Pine-tree Carol while JACK, POLLY, and
the Dwarfs pass down among the audience and distribute presents
or little souvenirs from the tree. It would be better, perhaps,
to have.the presents intended for distribution arranged on trays


VuL. XI.-5.

, F ;I r ,




ON the 14th of June, 1777, the Continental
Congress resolved "that the flag of the thirteen
United States be thirteen stripes, alternate red
and white; that the union be thirteen stars, white
in a blue field, representing a new constellation,"
This was the flag which, first unfurled by Captain
John Paul Jones on the "Ranger," became the
standard of the new American republic. It floated
above the historic field of Yorktown, and fluttered
from the north bastion of old Fort George when,
one hundred years ago this very month of Novem-
ber, the troops of King George evacuated the city
of New York, and the long war of the Revolution
was ended.

Does any reader of ST. NICHOLAS know why the
stars and stripes were adopted as our national
emblem? Various theories have been advanced-
from that which traces them to the Union Jack"
of England's flag to the highly poetical claim that
the banner of the Union represents the crimson
clouds of sunset blown into stripes by the free
winds of heaven, and spangled with the evening
stars just twinkling in the blue. But none of these
can be proven, and, as one authority says, "the
official origin of the grand Union' flag is involved
Let me tell you, if I can, the story of the flag
as I have been able to read it.
Some twenty years ago, I drove, one fine sum-
mer day, through pleasant country roads from the
borough town of Northampton, some sixteen miles
north-west of London, to a glorious old mansion
standing in a spacious park amid the green wood-
lands of Northamptonshire-Althorp House, for
many generations the family-seat of the noble
house of Spencer. I would like to introduce my
young American readers to this great English es-
tate, with its far-stretching fields and forests, its
heronry (one of the very few still remaining in
England), its dairy standing in the shadow of the
ancestral' oaks, its broad flower-beds and beautiful
lawn, on which I saw such a funny sight a mow-
ing-machine drawn by a mule shod in leather boots
so as not to injure the turf. I should like to tell
you of the grand old house, with its state apart-
ments, its superb antiquities, rich furniture, and
rare paintings; its library, one of the finest in
England, so lined with books that, once in, you can
scarce find your way out; its patch-work bedroom,
and other rare sights. But this is not part of my

story. Althorp House is the home of Earl Spencer,
now Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and not far away
stands the parish church of Brington, rich in
monuments and memorials of the noble Spencer
i 1-,.I. Passing down the aisle with the parish
clerk, he called my attention to an uninviting-
looking spot -a board about two yards long and
one wide, covering part of the pavement. Stoop-
ing down, he removed the board and uncovered
one of the old-time "brasses," so common in the
parish churches of England a piece of flatten or
sheet brass, set into the pavement of the church,
and bearing an engraved inscription.
I wish to' call your attention to this brass," said
the clerk; "it is one to Robert Washington and
his wife. They lived in this parish many years,
and died in 1622, within a few days of each other.
Here is their coat-of-arms," he continued. "See:
the stars and stripes."
"What!" I exclaimed, starting in surprise,
"do you really mean that the American flag, the
stars and stripes, was taken from the arms of the
Washington family ?"
Most certainly I do," he replied. Earl Spencer
frequently brings American gentlemen here to see
this brass. Mr. Motley, the historian, has been
here, and so has Senator Sumner."
I was interested at once, for I am something of
an antiquary. But surely," said I, "few Ameri-
cans can know of this. I wish I could take the brass
away with me, but that is out of the question."
Why not take a rubbing in heel-ball on paper ?"
suggested the clerk.
"The very thing," I replied; and I soon trans-
ferred the whole inscription by what we call "heel-
ball," that is, an impression on paper in the way
that boys take the impressions of pennies, by cover-
ing them with paper and rubbing the surface vig-
orously with a blunt pencil.
I obtained a fair copy of the Washington brass,
and, years after, traced the letters on gilt paper, so
that I have a fac-simile of the brass as it now lies
beneath the unattractive-looking board in Brington
Church, and you will find a copy of it on the next
Well, I carried my treasure home and read and
re-read the rubbing- Robert Washington, gent,
second son of Robert Washington of Solgrave."
Sulgrave? I repeated, I wonder if there are
any Washington relics at Sulgrave ?"
I wrote to the Vicar of Sulgrave and was politely

*Copyright, 1883, by Root & Tinker. All rights reserved.




informed that there was a tomb to Laurence Wash-
ington, bearing several brasses, in Sulgrave Church.
In reply to a second letter, the vicar kindly sent me
rubbings, beautifully done on tracing-paper, of the
Sulgrave brasses. First of these was the inscription
placed on the tomb by Laurence Washington upon
the death of "Amee his wyf" in 1564, of which
also a fac-simile is shown on this page.

Then came the likeness of Laurence Washington,
in his mayor's robes of black cloth trimmed with
sable fur; for, as two of the five hundred shields
of the mayors in the corridors of Northampton
town-house bear record, the-Worshipful Ifaurence
Washington was twice mayor of Northampton -
in 1532 and 1545.-

Next to this came
the brasses of his
numerous family -
four sons and seven
daughters all very
quaint in style, as
will be seen by the
sketcheson page 68.

The shield, much
defaced by the feet
of three centuries of
worshipers, is hard
to decipher. But,
dim as are the out-
lines, we may still

C __I
























trace there, on the pavement of Sulgrave Church,
the shield bearing upon its face the Washington
arms the stars and stripes.
Every boy and girl who studies English his-
tory knows the sad and terrible story of "Bluff
King Hal," Henry the Eighth of England, and
his six unhappy wives. When, in 1533, this
royal Blue-beard sought to marry fair Mistress
Anne Boleyn,
the Pope, Clem-
ent the Seventh,
seeing no just

King's divorce
from Queen
Katherine, re-
fused his con-
sent. But the
self-willed mon-
arch, throwing
off all allegiance
Sto the Pope, pro-
claimed himself
"head of the
Church," se-
cured a divorce
by English law, and
i married the fair
S Mistress Anne Bol-

eyn, only (poor
lady !) to cut off
her head scarce
three years after
in his grim old
Tower of Lon-
don. And when
King Henry had
declared himself
free of the "See
of Rome," he
took forcible
possession of the
religious houses
in England, con-
fiscated their
money and di-
vided the church

gotten wealth is not always the most secure, and
sometimes, as the old saying is, it "spends badly."
So with the Manor of Sul-
Sgrave. For we
9" learn that

Robert Washington, Esquire, the next heir, getting
into difficulties, was forced to
sell the estate in 161o;

lands among his
friends and adherents. Now, the Worshipful
Laurence Washington, some time mayor of
Northampton, was an adherent of the King,
a clever lawyer, and a man to conciliate, and
how better could King Henry make a fast //
friend of him than by presenting him with a --
"parcel of the dissolved priory of St. An- TItE FOUR SONS OF LAURENCE WASHINGTON.
drews, Northampton," under the name of the Manor and his son Laurence, grandson of the mayor, went
of Sulgrave? This was done in 1538. But easily back to Great Brington, and died there in 1616, as




the "mural record" on his tomb in Brington Church,
bearing the shield with the stars and stripes, bears wit-
ness. (In the Boston State House may be seen afac-
simile of this inscription, presented by Earl Spencer,
through the instrumentality of Governor Andrew,
Senator Sumner, and Jared Sparks, the biographer
of George Washington.) Twice had the Washing-
tons married into the lordly family of Spencer, and
the removal to Brington was doubtless to be near
their noble relatives, for, even in their days of
adversity, we find the Washingtons to have been
honored guests at Althorp House. John Wash-
ington, second son of this second Laurence, and
great-grandson of the mayor, was knighted at
Newmarket in 1622; and, when the great civil war
between king and parliament filled England with
blood and blows, we find this Sir John ,' =:.i.nor..
a stanch cavalier, fighting "for church and king."
But poor King Charles lost his crown and his head
in 1649, and Cromwell, the Protector, was by no
means a comfortable "protector" of those who
had taken sides with the King. At least, Sir John
Washington found it so; for, in 1657, he left his
pleasant home in Yorkshire, and emigrating to
the New World, settled at Bridge's Creek, in
Westmoreland County, in the colony of Virginia,
where he soon afterward married Mistress Anne
Pope. Thus was established the American line of
the Washingtons, for General George Washington,
first President of the United States, was great-
grandson of this same Sir John, the emigrant, as
Sir John was great-grandson of the first Laurence,
twice mayor of Northampton and lord of the
Manor of Sulgrave.
This browsing among the Washington genealo-
gies and studying of their monumental brasses and
family records grew very interesting to me, and
about a year ago I made a trip to Sulgrave on a
search for Washington relics and memorials. There
was the old church, and there, not far away, was
the still older manor-house, part of the confiscated
estates of the unfortunate priory of St. Andrew.
I first visited the church and studied the brasses,
of which I had received such excellent copies, and
then turned my steps to the manor-house. The
ancient home of the Washingtons belongs now to
a farmer by the name of Cook, and is little more
than a quaint and interesting ruin. A few signs of
its former stability and grandeur may be traced;
but the window with the Washington crest, which
Washington Irving mentions in his Life of Wash-
ington," is no longer to be seen, having been
broken after it had been removed elsewhere for
safe keeping." The porch, or entrance, to the old
manor-house still speaks,, though somewhat shak-
ily, of the early glory of the place; and from the
village doctor I was fortunate enough to obtain a

plaster cast of the Washington arms which King
Henry's adherent, the worshipful ex-mayor of
Northampton, had placed above the porch of the
manor-house in 1540--the now familiar shield
bearing on its face the stars and stripes.
And now, from genealogy, come with me, girls
and boys, into the Heralds' College, in London.
We will take the Washington arms with us and
make a short study of heraldry. You know what
heraldry is, I suppose. It is the art of blazoning
or describing in proper terms crests, arms, and
armorial bearings. It is full of odd and curious
terms which, to any one not versed in the mysteries


I *
A.-. 1540.
of the art, seem but a strange jargon. Representa-
tions of arms and crests can not, of course, be always
given in colors, and in the study of heraldry, there-
fore, colors are denoted by the lines of shading.
Thus perpendicular lines denote red; horizontal,
blue; diagonal, green and purple; and these col-
ors are thus designated: red is gules; white is
argent; blue is azure; black is sable; green is
verf, and purple is fpurfure. Gold is or, and silver
is argent. An object given in its natural color is
called proper. Chiefis from cafut, the head, and
indicates the head or upper part of the shield, cov-
ering one-third of it and set off by a horizontal line.
The mullet is the small star-shaped wheel or rowel
of a spur and, in heraldry, indicates a third son.
Now, with this short study as a guide, see whether



%tll lll l I 1111 11 111 III III I F


you can translate the description of the arms and
crest of the Washington family as I obtained them
from the Heralds' College in London. Remember
that arms and crest are by no means the same
thing. Arms means the shield itself- protection
in battle; crest is the ornament that surmounts
the shield.

ARMS: argent; two bars gules; in chief, three
mullets of the second.
CREST: a raven with wings indorsed proper;
issuant from a ducal coronet or.
I obtained a drawing of the armorial bearings
of the Washingtons-a fac-simile of the illumina-
tion that has stood for centuries in the old and
time-worn book I studied so carefully in the
Heralds' College. And here it is.
The bars on the shield, you see, are in perpen-
dicular shading, signifying red and white stripes,
and the mystery as to the origin of the star-span-
gled banner be- came, now, very
plain to me. The flag sprang
from the armo- rialbearings of
General Wash- ington. The
Archaeological Society of


England, the highest authority in the world on
ancient church -and heraldic matters, seems to in-
dorse my opinion, for it has said that in the red
and white bars, and the stars of his shield, and the
eagle issuant from his crest, borne later by General

Washington, the framers of the. Constitution got
their idea of the stars and stripes and the spread
eagle of the national emblem "-only an advance
upon the bars gules, the three mullets, and the
raven of the old shield of the Washingtons of
-Sulgrave Manor.
Blue seems to have been added to the flag be-
cause blue is the true companion
colorofred. Coats- of-arms have mot-
toes, and Washing- l ton's is singularly
appropriate. It is a sentence
from the 0 0 a^ Latin poet


Ovid: Exitus acta probat," which, freely trans-
lated, means "Actions are tested by their results."
These arms were on his carriage panels, his book-
marks, and his watch-seals.
Admiral Preble, of the Unitea States navy, who
wrote a very interesting work on Our Flag," says,
in regard to Washington's crest and arms: "The
American patriot was fond of genealogies, and
corresponded with English heralds on the subject
of his pedigree. Yes this George Washington,
who gave sanction, if not birth, to that most demo-
cratic of sentiments,--'all men are born free
and equal,'-was, as the phrase goes, a gentleman
of blood, of court armor, and ancient lineage.
When the Americans, in their most righteous
revolt against the tyranny of the mother country,
cast about for an ensign with which to distinguish
themselves from their English oppressors, what
did they ultimately adopt? Why, nothing more
than a gentleman's badge--a modification of the
old English coat-of-arms borne by their leader
and deliverer. A few stars and stripes had, in the
old times, distinguished his ancestors; more stars
and additional stripes were added, denoting the
number of States that joined in the struggle, and
this now became the standard round which the
patriots so successfully rallied. It is not a little
strange that this 'worn-out rag of feudalism,' as



so many would call it, should have expanded into
that bright and ample banner that now waves on
every sea."
So much for the flag; but ere I close, I wish to
mention another matter that may be found of




interest. The stars on the flag are five-rayed,
that is, having five points. The stars on the
coins of the United States have six points. Did
you ever notice this ?
I doubt whether one
American in a thou-
sand ever remarked
it. Look at any coin
in your pocket. The a 000
stars are all six-rayed.
Now, notice the
stars on the flag.
After my study
of theWashington
arms, I felt confi-
dent that, if I could
obtain a coin of
Washington's day,
I should find that
the stars corre-
sponded with A
those on the +
flag. Afterlong "> O
search;I finally "A C T
found what I
wished in a col-
lection of coins belonging to an English friend -
a fine specimen of a copper cent of 1791, showing
a beautiful profile of Washington on one side, and
on the reverse the eagle and the stars-all with
five points. This confirmed my opinion. I joy-
fully pocketed the coin, with my friend's permis-
sion, of course, and when in America compared it
with others in the Treasury Department at Wash-
ington. In every case I found that the coins of
Washington's day have five-rayed stars. So the
stars on the early coinage and the stars on the
early flag of the young republic are but an adap-
tation of the "three mullets" of the old Washing-

ton arms. The five-rayed stars on the coins died
with the great President, for I find that the coin-
age of the next Presidential term, and all issued
since, have six-rayed stars. Here is a historical puz-
zle. Who can explain the reason for the change ?
This, girls and boys, is my- story of your flag.
The stars and stripes of the armorial bearings of
old Laurence Washington, the worshipful mayor
of Northampton three hundred years ago, as they
appear on the brasses of Sulgrave Church and
above the porch of the old manor-house, were the
"heraldic insignia of the old English ancestry
which is traced back almost to the days of Col-
umbus," and these re-appear in the arms and
crest of General George Washington of Virginia,
first President of the United States of America,
and sixth in descent from the first Laurence Wash-
ington of Sulgrave. The stars and stripes of
the flag of the Union had their origin in the
armorial bearings of the Washington family-a
compliment from his fellow-citizens to the man
whom they hailed as leader and deliverer, "first
in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his
countrymen." No written records exist to prove
'this, but the fact was well known at the time, and
Washington's old friend, Mrs. Ross, an upholster-
ess of Arch street, Philadelphia, was intrusted by
a committee of Congress, in June, 1776, to work
these emblems into a flag, from designs drawn by
Washington himself in the little back.parlor of
the Arch-street house.
So the Star Spangled Banner dates back almost
to the days of knights and crusaders, and, as the
English author of an interesting book on "the
Washingtons" says (when speaking of doughty Sir
John Washington, the King's man of the old
Roundhead days, who left his Yorkshire fells for a
new home beyond the sea): "On he rode to carry
across the Atlantic a name which his great-grand-
son should raise to the loftiest heights of earthly
glory, and a coat-of-arms which, transformed into

the flag of a mighty nation, should float over every
sea as far and as proudly as the blended crosses
of St. Andrew, St. Patrick, and St. George."




LIT-TLE Wil-lie Jack-son and his sis-ter Ro-sa lived in a pret-ty lit-tle
house in the coun-try. Wil-lie "had six toys and Ro-sa had four dolls..
And Wil-lie had a lit-tie toy-bank, too, that his pa-pa had given him;
and his un-cle gave him ev-er so many pen-nies and some silver, to put
in the bank.
Wil-lie and Ro-sa lived close by a riv-er. And they had fine times
play-ing a-long the shore, throw-ing in sticks and stones, and sail-ing
lit-tle bits of board and pieces of bark which they called boats. Wil-lie
was six years old and Ro-sa was eight. The riv-er was not deep near
their home, and they: played near it all they chose, and they oft--en put
a lot. of small sticks .on the bark boats and played that the sticks were
boys and girls go-ing for a ride. on the wa-ter.
One day,.Ro-sa was gone from. home, and Wil-lie played a-lone.
Aft-er send-ing off some boats load-ed with lit-tle sticks, he wished for
some-thing to sail that looked more like real peo-ple, and he went
sly-ly in-to the house and got Ro-sa's four dolls, Maud, Fan-ny, Grace,
and Pol-ly, and set them all on a large piece of board and pushed them
off.in-to.the mid-die of the riv-er with a long stick. He played that Maud,
vwho was the larg-est, was the mnam-ma of the oth-ers, and that they were
go-ing to. the end of the world. They float-ed a-long in fine style, and
Wil-lie fol-lowed, them a-long the shore, great-ly pleased to see them sail,
un-til. they got so far a-way that he could hard-ly see them when he
went home, and the four dolls were left a-lone on the riv-er'to sail as.far
as they liked.
Now, Ro-sa had gone to see a lit-tle girl' named Hel-en, who lived
far-ther down the riv-er, and as the dolls sailed a-long, the girls were
at play on the shore throw-ing sticks in-to the wa-ter. For when-ev-er
they threw a stick in-to the riv-er, Hel-en's big black dog would then
swim out and bring the stick back in his mouth.
All at once, Hel-en. cried out, "What is that com-ing down the
riv-er?" and as the boat came near-er, Ro-sa looked and looked, and
soon she saw that her own dolls were up-on it, and she be-gan to cry
for fear they would all be drowned.
Hel-en said, "Per-haps Trip will bring them in. There, Trip! There,


Trip!" and pointed to them; but Trip on-ly looked and wagged his tail.
He would not go in-to the wa-ter un-less some-thing was thrown for
him to go ifi aft-er; and when Hel-en threw a stick, he swam out and
got it and let the dolls sail a-long.
He does n't know what we want," said Hel-en. I will run and tell
Mam-ma; may-be she can get them out." But before she got to the house
the board ran a-gainst a rock, and all the dolls tipped in-to the wa-ter;
and when Hel-en's mam-ma came, the emp-ty board was float-ing far
a-way down the riv-er.
Then Ro-sa went home ver-y sad, and Hel-en cried a lit-tle, too.
When Wil-lie's mam-ma knew what he had done, she said he must
o-pen his lit-tle bank and give all the pen-nies and sil-ver his un-cle had

giv-en him to Ro-sa, to buy her an-oth-er doll like La-dy Maud: and
Hel-en's mam-ma and Ro-sa's aunt brought her some more, and Wil-lie
nev-er sent Ro-sa's dolls to sail a-gain.
But when Wil-lie grew to be a big boy, he had a real boat with
seats in it, and he oft-en took Ro-sa and Hel-en in his boat on the
blue wa-ter. They were care-ful not to tip out, as the poor dolls did.
He could not think what had made him act so bad-ly to the dolls. But
it must have been be-cause he was such a ver-y lit-tle boy in those days.


,J -I .. ,PU T.


IT may interest you, dear friends, young and
otherwise, to know that the first of November is
your Jack's birthday. Yes, with this month I
enter upon the eleventh volume of my existence,
so to speak, and a very happy one it promises to
be, thanks to your faithful attendance, the state of
things in general, and the success of ST. NICHOLAS
in particular.
Now that I think on it, to be in the eleventh vol-
ume of one's age is about as grand a thing as
a Jack-in-the-Pulpit of this latitude can desire-
an unusual thing, too, though that 's neither here
nor there in this case. Our family are mostly very
sensitive to cold weather; but a ST. NICHOLAS
Jack-in-the-Pulpit is quite another thing. The
love of boys and girls should make even a mush-
room as strong and hardy as an oak.
After all, every one of us, my chicks, begins a
fresh volume once a year--so here 's to all our
birthdays! May they be happy and honored-
full of pleasant memories and joyful promises,
and a hearty determination to go ahead !

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I think I can answer the question
asked by Lulu Clarke and Nellie Caldwell in the August ST. NICH-
OLAS, saying that they have seen stars fall and wish to know if they
really do fall and what becomes of them afterward, where do they go
to, and do they ever shine again ? AaIswer: A falling star is caused
by a piece of star or planet falling down toward the earth. We
know that when you get a certain distance from the earth the air
becomes different from what it is around us here; thus the piece of
planet or star fallingdownward from above, where the air is different,
strikes the current of air around the earth, when it becomes warmed
by the friction of falling through the air and shines like a star, and
this is the cause of what we call a falling star. This is what I have
been told, and I believe it. What becomes of them afterward and
where they go, I guess nobody knows; and as they are not stars,
they never shine again. Your fond admirer,
Lenox, Mass. JOHNNY.
You are shown Johnny's letter, my friends, just
as he wrote it (excepting that the dear Little School-

ma'am scratched out the rest of his name). Does
he clear up the matter much ? I fear not. You
see, it is such a very hard subject. Well, here is
a letter from a Washington boy:.

WASHINGTON, D. C., August 17, 1883.
DEAR MR. JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: If you will let me answer Lulu
Clarke's and Nellie Caldwell's questions about "Shooting-stars,"
in the August ST. NICHOLAS, I will ask all those who have access
to an encyclopedia or book on astronomy-to look under the subjects
"meteors" and "aerolites," as both are commonly called "shooting-
stars." In the encyclopedia or book on astronomy will be found
much more information than you would allow me space to give. I
would like to say for those who can not see an encyclopedia or book
on astronomy that the scientific men have decided that there is a
stream of meteors or shooting-stars going around the sun all the
time, after the manner of the going around of the earth and the
other planets; but this stream forms a different ring, or orbit," as
they call it, from that of the earth, so that the two orbits or rings
made by the earth and the stream of meteors cross every year about
August or November, when we can see more shooting-stars than at
other times. Now, when the earth passes through the stream of
meteors as the rings of the two meet, the meteors pass through the
air which is around the earth; some even fall to the earth, and be-
cause they move so fast through the air they begin to burn from
friction. Friction, you know, is caused by the rubbing of two
bodies together, and causes heat, as when we scratch a match to
light it. How wonderful it is that, as light and thin as air is, there
is enough friction between the air and meteors to make them light
and bur. Meteors are found to be made mostly of iron. Some
persons have collections of them. There are also some at the
Smithsonian Institution in this city.
I believe I have answered all the questions Lulu and Nellie asked,
and I hope, dear Jack, you will pardon me if my letter seems long,
but I could n't see how I could make it shorter and make it plain.
Yours, etc., G. M. F.

Fred. H. W., of Michigan City, Indiana, writes
that "these meteors, when rushing through the
air, go with such velocity that they are ignited by
friction and are consumed."-Jesse A- of De-
troit, Mich., says: "In answer to Miss L. Clarke,
in the August number, I think that the stars do
not fall. It looks as if they did, but what really
falls is a stone. These are called meteorites.
According to Miss Yonge, one of these which fell
in the fifteenth century was four feet long and
weighed 215 pounds. They are very numerous,
and sometimes set houses afire."
Elise Van W. asks: "What makes these pieces
break off and go rushing through the air ? and what
do they break off of, anyway ?" and a number of cor-
respondents tell your Jack that at the Smithsonian
Institute, in Washington, there are.specimens of
meteoric stones or aerolites -realspecimens-that
have been found on the ground after a meteoric
shower, and that have fallen right out of the sky.
The dear Little School-ma'am and Deacon Green
have seen some of these very specimens at the
Smithsonian Institute, and they tell me the stories
about them are perfectly true. Big stones some of
'em are, too. I hope I shall never be honored by
having any extra fine specimens rained upon my
Many other letters on this subject have come
from my boys and girls; but as I can not show them
all to you, I must be content with thanking Ella
B. G., Frank H. Stephens, Jr., "Barebones,"
F. C. L., Mary and Henry L., Edwin B. S., Red-
school-house boy, and Willis F-, whose letters
the Little School-ma'am says are very creditable.
The fact is, "Shooting-stars" are rather heavy
and risky things for a Jack-in-the-Pulpit to handle;
but so long as my chicks are pecking at it, I.am



content. They '11 be sure to find out something be-
fore they get through -bless their busy noddles 1


BUT all the shooting-stars do not come from the
great sea of air and the greater sea of nothing in
particular that is said to surround our earth. Hear
this letter from a California girl:
DEAR JACK: In the August number, in the reports from chapters
of the Agassiz Association, I noticed a picture of one of our Cali-
fornia wild flowers. The "shooting-stars," as we call them, grow
in our fields in great abundance. They are a pale lavender color, or
sometimes a pinkish tint.
These little flowers grow in clusters, as large as your hand, upon
a single stem; the flowers are very drooping and sometimes quite
large; they are also very fragrant. So we consider them as one of
the most beautiful and sweet of all our wild flowers.
Yours truly, S. S."


closes her little feet upon them and so holds them
as safely as your mother holds the baby in her
careful arms.
In numbers of cases hunters have seen the
great-eyed birds rise and fly away heavily and low,
seemingly holding something between their feet.
Mr. C. F. Holder, one of the ST. NICHOLAS
writers, tells me that a Western sportsman recently
had curiosity enough to follow such a bird, and a
good chase she led him, through a hay-field, over
brambles, bushes, and stones, but he finally gained
upon her, and saw that in her feet she carried a
tiny downy woodcock that seemed not the least
alarmed by such a strange mode of traveling.
The old bird carried it several hundred yards,
before alighting with it; and then quickly disap-
peared in the tall thick grass.
My little Mrs. Woodcock is the proudest mother
I ever knew. She thinks her children are perfec-
tion. To me .they seem to have rather large

MY friend the woodcock has an excellent wife, mouths, but she scouts the idea of that being
and an excellent mother-that is, an excellent anything against their beauty. To her way of
mother to his children. He may have had an ex- thinking, a large mouth gives an openness of ex-
cellent mother himself; probably he did, for of all pression to the young that is simply charming. Ah,
birds the woodcock mother Woodcock is a happy fellow !
is the kindest and most
affectionate to her A DOG WHO TRIED THE TELEPHONE.
little ones. But DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT : I read such a queer
what I wish true story in our paper to-day, that I want to
to state tell it to you and all the girls and boys. The
paper said that a Rhode Island gentleman
though lately took his pet dog (named Pat) to
Providence, which, you know, is one
of the capitals of Rhode Island. Well,
somehow, he and Pat became sepa-
rated and could not find each other
at all. Well, what did that dog
do but go to a certain telephone
office, whither he had often gone
with his master. He whined
so dismally that the operator,
understanding the case, tele-
phoned to a store where he
thought the dog's owner
might be; and finding him
there, asked him to speak
to Pat by the telephone.
The master did so. The
operator held theinstrument
to Pat's ear, and the dog
gave a joyful bark at the
sound of his master's voice.
S-Then, the paper says, Pat
was let out and darted off to
find him, as though he knew
exactly where to go; but it
does not tell any more. I wish
I could say, for certain, that
's-.- Pat found his master; but I
-.", really think he did, because the
-'- sound of his voice gave the poor
,' dog courage, you see, and, with
.. courage to help him, I think he must
certainly have succeeded.
\ 1our true young friend, JENNY S.

I "U con- -: '.
fess that, '. '
like Brother -
Boreas, I 'm a "
little long-winded '
this time, is that the
offspring of my friend Wood-
cock actually are carried about by their mother
when they are too young to escape from danger
unaided. She does not carry them by her bill (no,
even the cat-bird would not attempt that), but she


DEACON GREEN requests me to say that
the announcement of his SPLENDID OFFER,
as I call it, is unavoidably postponed to the
December number of ST. NICHOLAS.




DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I do not have much time to read, but
always take time to read your interesting stories.
I am in an office from eight A. M. until five or six P. m. every day;
and when I am at home I have other duties besides reading. My
work is taking down in short-hand, from dictation, the business let-
ters of the firm, and then printing them on a type-writer. I have
other work also, putting up the mail, sending off circulars, indexing
books, etc.
I began studying short-hand in February last, and was six-
teen years old in July. Am now supporting myself, and intend to
keep on doing so. JOSEPHINE B.

Josephine B.'s welcome letter is but one out of many which we
have received from boys and girls who are already supporting them-
selves or who are intending soon to begin the battle of life in earnest.
And it is very gratifying to us to know that all of these budding men
and women who have been reading ST. NICHOLAS refuse to outgrow
the magazine, as they outgrow their juvenile toys and pleasures,
and that they find it as interesting and helpful a companion on their
return from office-desk or counter as when, in past times, they
rushed home from school to greet it.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Will you please tell me how an oil paint-
ing should be cleaned, when dusty and fly-stained? I have tried
several methods, but have not succeeded in finding one that will
not injure the painting. AGNES L.
An experienced dealer in oil-paintings sends us this answer to
Agnes L.'s query: Take a quart of lukewarm water, and into itput
ten drops of ammonia. With this water and a soft sponge clean the
painting very carefully, and wipe it dry with a piece of chamois or
soft silk.


NR. CAERNARVON, N. WALES,.September 3, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I was much interested in an article en-
titled The Ship in the Moon," in the September number of your
magazine, more especially as, a short time ago, I saw something
rather similar to the curious sight described by S. T. We are
staying two miles from Caernarvon, North Wales, and have a splen-
did view from our house over the Menai Straits, and also over the
sea, where the sun sets. We have some beautiful sunsets here, over
the water, and about ten days ago, when we were watching one,
just as the sun was looking like a bright ball on the horizon, a dis-
tant ship crossed slowly in front of it, looking quite black against
the golden orb. We all thought it rather a remarkable thing to see,
for it was an occurrence quite new to us. I was, therefore, rather
astonished when I saw in the next ST. NICHOLAS S. T. R.'s article,
relating a somewhat similar coincidence. Yours truly, J. E. C.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Once at Eastbourne, England, in 1870,
we had the rare experience mentioned by S; T. R. in the current
number of ST. NICHOLAS, only instead of a ship i ten the mowe
saw an ocean steamer; and until seeing the article have never met
with any one who had seen this unique and picturesque sight
W. L.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This summer we were at Maplewood,
N. H., and a gentleman told father, that from the hotel piazza there
he had seen the moon rise behind Mt. Washington, bringing out the
Tip Top House in strong relief. A sight, tobe sure, somewhat differ-
ent from that witnessed by S. T. R., but quite as rare. E. C.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am going to te tll you a little about our
town of Stonington. When the war was going on between the
British and the Americans, the British tried to capture our town on
a certain morning I forget the date. The British took us by sur-
prise, and therefore we were not ready for the fight; but as all the
people were pretty brave, we rose up in a multitude, at least as many
as there were in the town. We had two cannons, and yet we were
all so brave as to hold out till reinforcements came to our aid, and
thus we won the battle, on the ooth of August, zr86. We have
those two cannons yet, in the center of the town in a little square,
and four bomb-shells that did not gooff. Now I must say good-bye.
Hoping that this will be published, I remain yours,

WASHINGTON, D. C., August, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In reading one of the old volumes of ST.
NICHOLAS, I came across a story of a black-and-tan dog, which
told of the numerous tricks that he could do, and I wish some of
the little folks of the ST. NICHOLAS who have been successful in
training dogs could tell me how to teach my little black-and-tan.
He can already sit upon his haunches, waltz, and speak for things.
Please print this, and oblige your true reader, AUNT EMILY.

Now,,boys and girls whose pets under your careful tuition have
graduated in tricks-who of you will best answer Aunt Emily's
question ?

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like your Letter-box so much. The
letters are so interesting. I often wonder how old the subscribers
are, and try to guess from their letters. I composed a little piece of
poetry, which I am going to ask you to publish if you can find a
spare corner. I expect you are bothered by other such people as I,
but I hope my epistle will not share the fate of some others. If you
will publish my piece, you will oblige your little friend,


See! a little brooklet is traveling through a field of clover.
It is running on as though a child at play,
Turning the little pebbles over and over,
In its happy and joyous way.

On and on it travels through miles and acres of land,
Carrying with it as it goes everything that comes on hand,
Such as pebbles, weeds, and sand,
As it begins to expand.

Lo! .what do we see?
A river! Yes, a river traveling on to sea.
'Tis the same little brooklet that through the field was flowing,
We did not think that it was to the great ocean going.

'Tis thus with you, my little friend,
When a little baby in your cradle laid low,
We could not picture for you
Into a fine and noble woman to grow.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I can not find words to express the
pleasure I felt when I received a letter with a recent number of
your dear magazine, from my aunt who lives in Oakland, California,
saying that she ha sd subscribed to it for us as a present. There
are eight of us, four boys and four girls. You 'can imagine what
a commotion there is in our house when it arrives, for the little
ones want to see the pictures, and the large ones to see the pictures
and read the stories. My father is a miner, and we live in the
Sierra mountains. In the winter the snow is from ten to thirteen
feet deep, and we travel on snow-shoes, or skees, just like those
you described in the February number. We have fine sport sliding
down hill. But last winter was an exception, for we had only thirty
inches of snow at one time.
From your ardent reader, MATTIE B. WESTALL.

PHILADELPHIA, July X5, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I was very much interested in Mr. Le-
land's article on Brass Work," in the July number, as I know him
and have been to the school he speaks of. I have never beaten
brass, but have seen it done, and I do not think it looks very
difficult. I take lessons in modeling, and I find it very interesting,
and am extremely fond of it. It is not difficult to model, and I
think any one could do it. My sister, who is nine years old, takes
lessons in modeling at the school Mr. Leland mentions, and models
very nicely. I also take lessons in painting and in designing from
Mr. Leland. I do not go to the same school with my sister, but to
the Art Club, of which Mr. Leland is also the founder. I am sure
the readers of ST. NICHOLAS will like the article on Modeling,"
and find it very interesting.
I hope you will print this letter, as it is my first.
Your constant reader, H. ROBINS.

Hosts of readers, we are sure, will welcome Mr. Leland's article
on Modeling," and the kindred articles that he is to contribute.




THE Agassiz Association, as made known through ST. NICHO-
LAS, is three years old this month. The number of members as
recorded a year ago was 3816, and we then remarked that the mem-
bership had doubled within the year. The latest number on our reg-
ister is 5970, which shows a still larger increase for the closing year.
As ST. NICHOLAS greets a large number of new friends at the
opening of the new volume, we will give a brief review of the or-
ganization, purposes, and methods of the A. A.
The association originated at Lenox, Mass., and its head-quarters
are still in Lenox Academy. Here are kept our register, with its
nearly six thousand names; our album, containing the faces of many
of our members; our cabinet of some thousands of specimens, con-
tributed by near and distant friends, and the file of letters, pre-
serving the cream of a three years' correspondence. Grouped around
this center are now 525 branch societies, or chapters, representing
nearly every State and Territory, and also England, Ireland, Scot-
land, France, Canada, and South America. Each of these chapters
is required to send a report of its doings to the President at the
beginning of every other month. There is no charge for the admis-
sion of a chapter, and there are no dues, either yearly or monthly.
The smallest number that can be recognized as a chapter is four.
In cases where four can not be found to unite as a chapter, indi-
viduals are admitted on the payment of a nominal entrance fee.
The purposes of the A. A. are thus briefly stated in Article 2 of
the Constitution:
"It shall be the object of this Association to collect, study, and
preserve natural objects and facts."
Our methods are as simple as possible. Natural objects must be
studied from actual specimens. Rocks must be broken; flowers
gathered, and studied as they grow; animals watched as they live
freely in their own homes. Each member of the A. A. is encour-
aged to begin right at home; to collect the flowers, minerals, or
insects of his own town; to learn to determine their names by his
own study. Knowing well, -however, the difficulties which beset
the entrance of the young naturalist's path, we have considered how
we may render him the assistance he most needs at the outset.
We have prepared a list of the best books in each department of
science, so that he may know what tools to work'with; and best
of all, a number of eminent scientists have most generously offered
their services to aid in the classification and determination of speci-
mens. So that now if a bright boy wishes to learn something about
butterflies, or birds' eggs, or minerals, he can begin by picking up
whatever he can find. Our hand-book tells him where to look for
them, how to preserve and mount them, and what books to get to
find out about their habits and names. Then, if he gets puzzled by
some strange specimen, he has the privilege, at nb expense, of ad-
dressing some gentleman "who knows all about it," and who will
promptly answer any questions he may ask.
Further than this, we have begun to organize summer classes by
correspondence,- also entirely free,-and we award certificates to
all who satisfactorily complete the various courses of observation.
The names of the gentlemen who have so kindly volunteered
their services in the several departments have been given from
month to month in ST. NICHOLAS, but for the information of our
new readers, and for the convenience of all, we herewith give a com-
plete and classified list of them:

I. N. E. States and Canada ......Pro. C. H. K. Sanderson,
Greenfield, Mass.
II. Middle States................. Dr. Charles Atwood,
Moravia, N. Y.
III. Southern States .............. Dr. Chapman,
Apalachicola, Fla.
IV. Western States to Colorado.... Dr. Aug. F. Foerste
(puff-balls a specialty), Dayton, O0
V. Far West and North-west.....Dr. Marcus L. Jones,
Denver, Col.
VI. Prof R. Dudley (ferns, sedges, and grasses specially),
Ithaca, N. Y.
VII. Middle States............... Prof Edw. L. French,
Wells College, Aurora, N. Y.
VIII. Mr. Wm. H. Briggs, Columbia, Cal.

I. Prof. Bruce Richards, 1726 N. i8th st., Philadelphia, Pa,
II. Mr. Thomas Morgan, Somerville, N. J.

III. Mr. H. A. Pilsbey, Davenport, Iowa.
IV. Prof. G. Howard Parker, Academy of Sciences, x9th and
Race sts., Philadelphia, Pa.
V. Mr. Harry E. Dore, 52t Clay st., San Francisco, Cal.
(Pacific Molluscs. )
I. Prof. G. Howard Parker (address above).
II. Prof C. H. Fernald, State College, Orono, Me. (Lefi-
III. Mr. H. L. Fernald, Orono, Me. (Hemi3ptera.)
IV. Prof Leland 0. Howard, Dept. Agriculture, Entomological
Div., Washington, D. C.
V. Prof. H. Atwood, office Germania Life Ins. Co., Rochester,
N. Y. (Parasites and microscopic infusoria.)
VI. Dr. Aug. F. Foerste, Dayton, O. (Sfiders.)

I. Mr. Wm. H. Briggs, Columbia, Cal.
II. Mr. Jas. C. Lathrop, 134 Park Ave., Bridgeport, Conn.
III. Mr. W. R. Lighton, Ottumwa, Iowa.
IV. Prof. Wm. M. Bowron, South Pittsburg, Tenn.
I. Prof. Wm. M. Bowron (address above).
II. Mr. Jas. C. Lathrop (address above).
III. Prof. F. W. Staebner, Westfield, Mass.
IV. Mr. Chas. B. Wilson, Colby University, Waterville, Me.
(Minerals of Maie.)
V. Mr. David Allan, box 113, Webster Groves, Missouri.
I. Mr. James De B. Abbott, Germantown, Pa.
I. Prof C. F. Holder, American Museum Nat. Hist., Central
Park, N. Y., 77th st. and Ei.t : fanie life.)
II. Dr. Aug. Foerste, Dayton, 0 i
All questions relating to the identification of specimens are to be
sent to these gentlemen, and those who avail themselves of this
privilege must be members of the A. A., and must carefully observe
the following rules:
ist. Never write for assistance, until you have tried your best to
succeed without it; that is, do not ask lazy questions.
2d. Always inclose sufficient postage for the return of your speci-
mens, and also an envelope, with a two-cent stamp, addressed to
Having now outlined the history, purposes, and methods of the
A. A., the question arises,
We have no limitations of age, wealth, or rank. All who are
interested in studying nature are welcome. We have members four
years old, and members seventy years old, and of all ages interme-
diate. Some of our chapters are composed mainly of adults, and,
as in the case of our Montreal chapter, bid fair to take a strong
stand among the scientific organizations of the country. Others are
made up mainly of children, who study and observe in their own
way--not probing so deeply into scientific problems, but finding
many very interesting specimens and facts, and often puzzling their
older friends with their eager questions.
Some of our branches are "family chapters," consisting of father,
mother, and the little ones, all working together, and holding meet-
ings regularly in library or drawing-room. They constitute one of
the pleasantest features of the association. Perhaps as common as
any ate school or college chapters, sometimes under the guidance of
teacher or professor, sometimes not. By means of such societies,
the study of natural history has been introduced profitably into
many public schools. A live teacher will be able to accomplish
unknown good by organizing and conducting such a chapter.
Of course, in the actual working of our association, hundreds of
questions arise, concerning which the beginner desires information.
How shall I organize a society? How ought the meetings to be
conducted? .How shall I awaken and keep alive the interest of
others? What plan of work shall I follow? How shall I build
a cabinet ? How shall I collect and arrange my various specimens ?
What books shall I read? How about a badge? Etc.,.etc.
At first, we undertook to reply to all these questions by letter,
but the task soon became an impossibility. Then, for a time, we



resorted to circulars; but finally the range of inquiry broadened so
rapidly, and the number of inquirers increased so fast, that we were
obliged to issue a little volume called THE HAND-BOOK OF THE
ST. NICHOLAS AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION." In this we endeavored to
put answers to every possible question regarding the society, and
the book has now come to be indispensable to every wide-awake
member of the A. A. The first step, therefore, to be taken, if one
wishes to form a "chapter," or to join the A. A. as an individual
member, is to send for a copy of the hand-book. The price is fifty
cents, and all orders should be sent to the President. *
We should prefer writing personal letters to all of our kind friends,
as a printed circular is apt to seem formal and cold; but with six
thousand members this evidently can not often be done.
All who have not already done so are invited to send their photo-
graphs, and particularly group photographs of their chapters.


While, as seen above, we have a goodly array of scientific gentle-
men ready to assist us, there is ample room for many more; particu-
larly in more restricted subdivisions of the various branches: such
as the "logies" of beetles, dragon-flies, birds' eggs, trees, etc., etc.
But now, to proceed with our regular work, the subject for Pro-
fessor Parker's Entomological class for November is Coleoptera.
The work on Lepidoptera has been satisfactorily completed, and
ten members have passed the examination. We regret that the
number pursuing the course is so small; but the success of these will
doubtless stimulate others to join the class.
The best essay was
x. On Dryocampa fellucida, by Bashford Dean, Tarrytown-on-
Hudson, N. Y.
Then follow
2. On Spltinx quinquemaculata, by Fred. Clearwater, Brazil, Ind.
3. On Telea olypemus, by Helen Montgomery, Saco, Me.
4. On Attacus folyfp emus, by G. J. Grider, Bethlehem, Pa.
5. On Platysamia cecrofia, Linn., by Daisy G. Dame, West
Medford, Mass.
6. On Platysamia cecropia, Linn., by Isabel G. Dame, West
Medford, Mass.
7. On Dryocammpa senatorial, by Elizabeth Marquand, Newbury-
port, Mass.
8. On Papilio lurnus, Linn., by A. H. Stewart, Washington, D.C.
9. On Coliasj hilodice, by Arthur Stone, Boston, Mass..
to. On General Lefidoptera, by Rachel H. Mellon, Pittsburgh, Pa.
Professor Parker writes, "I think all have earned their diplomas,
so far, and that the essays reflect great credit on the association."
Papers for November should be prepared and sent to Professor
Parker, as explained in detail in ST. NICHOLAS for JULY. Any who
have hitherto been prevented from joining the class may enter now
and continue with the others; and on completing the course shall
receive certificates of the actual work accomplished.
The Botanical section will now take up Flowers, and specimens,
or better, -drawings should be arranged according to the following
scheme, and sent to Dr. Jones, as explained in July:


INFLORESCENCE (arrangement.
on stem).
Definite :


a. Calyx,
b. Corolla,
c. Stamens,
d." Pistils,
e. Receptacle.
a. Calyx.
Ordinary forms:
monosepalous (sepals
shapes (see corolla),
teeth, lobes, etc. (see
leaf ),
polysepalous (sepals
not united),
shapes (see leaf).
Special forms:
fruits (apples, etc.
cups, etc.,

ietal-like, etc.,
b. Corolla.
Monopetalous (parts united) :
shapes (see blade
of leaf),

Polypetalous (parts sepa-
rate) :
shapes (see blade of
special forms
of Leguminosme,
of Columbine,
on the receptacle,
aestivation (arrangement
in the bud),
c. Stamenss.
on receptacle,
style (apparently),

Free (from each other).
United by filaments,
United by anthers.
shapes (see stems and
etc. (see leaves and
attachment to fila-
dehiscence, (mode
of opening),
by slits,
shapes (see leaves
and stems),
etc., etc.,
to the plants,
other animals.

No. Name. No. of Members. Address.
5x4 Iowa City, Iowa, (A).... 4..W. M. Clute.
515 Rogers Park, Ill., (A).... 4..C. B. Coxe.
5s6 Dighton, Mass., (A)..... 8..W. A. Reade.
5x7 Trenton, N. J., (C) ...... 2..Herbert Westwood.
518 Bergen Pt., N. J., (A)... 5.. Miss Alida Conover.
519 Lawrence, Kan., (A).... 5..Fred. H. Bowersock.
520 Baltimore, Md., (G)..... 4..E. B. Stockton, 179 McCullogh
521 New York, N. Y., (0)... 6..R. A. Linden, 207 E. i2sdst.
H. H. BALLARD-Dear Sir: I would be very glad to assist any
of your A. A. in geology, mineralogy, or microscopy. Having seen
the ill effects of science teaching, as conducted at present generally,
I am desirous of aiding seekers all I can. Yours, very truly,
JAS. C. LATHROP, 134 Park ave.


A few fine moths.- Miss Lillie M. Stephan, sec., Pine City, Minn.
Plants, eggs, and minerals.- Edwin F. Stratton, sec., Greenfield,
Correspondence with distant chapters.-Miss Nellie Scull, box S,
Rochester, Indiana.

(56) Cicada.-A cicada was in its immature state, destitute of
wings, and evidently just out of the ground. I placed it under a
glass, and left it a few minutes. On returning, I saw that the skin
had separated along the back in a line from a point on the head in a
line with the eyes, to the first segment of the abdomen. The body



was arched so as to rest on its extremities. By expanding and con-
tracting its body, the insect drew the abdomen partly out of the en-
veloping skin, and still did not draw it forth through the openingin
the back. When in this position, by the same process as before, it
forced the skin of the head and thorax down until the eyes and head
appeared. It then straightened itself, and lay as if exhausted. After
a time it began again to move, and drew out first the thorax, then
the first pair of legs, then the wings, folded and refolded, so that they
seemed but small bits of tissue covered with minute veins. After
the wings, the second and third pairs of legs appeared. By this time
the abdomen had been drawn nearly half way through the opening.
The remaining portion was now drawn slowly forth, segment by seg-
ment. The old skin discarded, the body of the insect was light pink;
its feet bright red, its legs light green, and its eyes dark brown.
Its wings now began to expand, not apparently by any action of
the insect, but by their natural expansion, much as a flower unfolds.
The time occupied in the entire change was a little over an hour.
HIRAM H. BICE, Utica, N. Y.
In your August number, page 798, under the heading of "Re-
ports from Chapters," reference is made to "a lavender drooping
flower," and is accompanied by a wood-cut. The flower referred
to must be Dodecatfeon Meadia (a primrose), which is very common

throughout California, growing in great abundance in meadow land.
It has a fine perfume, and fills the air with fragrance. It resembles
the cyclamen, but is more showy and fragrant. The children call
it "shooting-star," and it is also known as the "American cow-
slip" and "Pride of Ohio."
The name Dodecatheon is derived from the Greek, ana signifies
twelve gods, in allusion to the flowers, which are sometimes twelve
in number, though the usual number in this State is from three to
six. Respectfully yours,
DANIEL CLEVELAND, of San Diego, Cal.
We regret that a large number of interesting notes and very en-
couraging chapter reports are crowded out this month. We believe
the A. A. was never in a more prosperous or happy condition than
now. We invite all interested to join our ranks, and while we again
heartily thank our many friends for their sympathy and aid, we urge
all old members to renewed efforts for the cause, and to renewed
energy in their special departments. Address all communications
to the President,"
Principal of Lenox Academy, Lenox, Berkshire Co., Mass.


SI. HIDDEN WORDS: In each of the nine horizontal lines are con-
S Q / cealed one or more words. By selecting the right one from each
line, a quotation from the Comedy of Errors may be formed.
S-i II. A DOUBLE ACROSTIC: Divide each of the four letter-circles
"in such a way that the letters, in the order in which they now stand,
Sf _R will form a word. The four words, when rightly placed, will make
a double acrostic; the initials and finals will each name the result of
S an engineering enterprise which is very useful to commerce.
t / The rebus beneath the letter-circles, when .rightly read, will fur-
nish some information concerning the primals and finals of the
S N acrostic.

-- 0 --
o o o 0 0 --
7 oo-

RYE 9 ~-oo-

SACROSS: i. A circle, Aforest. 3. Adunce. 4. Toplunder.
5. An apartment., 6. Meager. 7. An implement. 8. To decree.
S 9. The part of a class where nobody likes to be. so. Midday.
I A bird.
DOWNWARD: 1. In kerchief. 2. Two-thirds of an animal. 3.
Three-fourths of the weft. 4. A. small body of water. 5. An
Sentrance-way. 6. A noose. 7. To blow. 8. Humor. 9. A cover-
S ing. io. A swimming and diving bird. io. A heath. 12. Also.
-3. A negative. 14. In kerchief. M. v. w.


1. IN insipid. 2. A preposition. 3. A peninsula of Asia. 4.
An instrument of torture employed by dentists. 5. Beloved by
collectors of bric-a-brac 6. To choose a second time. 7. Speed-
ily. 8. To rest. 9. In insipid. ALCIBIADES."


S IN each of the following sentences behead and curtail the word
represented by the long dash, and there will remain three words,
which may replace the three short dashes. EXAMPLE: It is Sue at
the door-- ? I am glad of a Answer: V-is it o-r.
i. Joseph's brethren seemed to think - place to hide
-- him in.
2. When such a claim there is but little use in it.
3. One would. gaze admiration, no matter how large the
at which she was met.
-- as4. His success in acknowledged fact by enemies as well
as devoted -
5. We look with admiration only of the career of Napo-
7.Moe&Jl *1 leon B.



IN each of these examples, the problem is to arrange the grouped
letters so that they will form a word agreeing with the accompany-
ing definition.
1. TULLIPANII. Very small.
2. TENNTOOPMI. All-powerful.
3. MISSUUPOCOR. Confused.
4. SMEETUTSOUP. Turbulent.
5. XIGOREECPHRAL. The author of a dictionary.
6. TASCOOTNILLNE.- A group of stars. H. V. W


i ..1 ....7T i-aIX^

THE answer to this rebus is a saying of Poor Richard.


EACH word described contains eight letters. When these have
been rightly selected, and placed one below another in the order here

given, the diagonals (reading downward), from left to right, and
from right to left, will spell the names of two large lakes in the cen-
tral part of North America.
a. Supernatural events. 2. A formal conversation between two
persons. 3. Broken down with age. 4. Up to this time. 5. Tak-
ing exorbitant interest for the use of money. 6. A three-sided
figure. 7. Matrimonial. 8. Supplication.


CROSS-WORDS: x. Blotted out. 2. Cut off or suppressed, as a
syllable. 3. Cloth made of flax or hemp. 4. A paradise. 5. A
numeral. 6. A boy's nickname. 7. In diamond.
INCLUDED DIAMOND: I. In nimble, 2. A cover. 3. Cloth
made from flax or hemp. 4. A cave. 5. In nimble, c. D.


EACH of the words described contains four letters. The zigzag,
beginning at the upper left-hand corner, will spell the name of an
Indian girl.
CROSS-WORDS : To ripple. 2. To observe. 3. An instru-
ment of torture. 4. A volcanic mountain of Sicily. 5. A Roman
emperor who reigned but three months. 6. A burrowing animal.
7. Close at hand. 8. A minute particle. 9. A decree. o1. The
principal goddess worshipedby the Egyptians. "ROBIN HOOD."


I.- I. PART of a book. 2. A girl's name. 3. Part of a prayer.
4. Useful in summer.
II. i. Weapons of defense. 2. Part of a plant. 3. Fashion.
4. Part of a plant.
III. x. To blink. 2. A metal. 3. Part of the face. 4. The
joint covered by the patella. LIZZIE D. F.


Maryland; first monogram, Frederick; second, Potomac; third,
Annapolis; fourth, Chesapeake; fifth, Salisbury. Second row:
white letters, France; first monogram, Cher; second, Rouen;
third, Marne; fourth, Nantes; fifth, Focamp. Third row: white
letters, Asia; first monogram, Kiusiu; second, Japan; third,
Burmah; fourth, Mandaleh; fifth, Osaka. Fourth row: white
letters, Maine; first monogram, Deer; second, Schoodic; third.
Frenchman's; fourth, Machias; fifth, Portland. Fifth row: white
letters, England; first monogram, Thames; second, London; third,
Birmingham; fourth, Avon; fifth, Penzance.
SUBSTITUTIONS. Third row, Bull Run; fourth row, Atlanta.
Cross-words: i. Abet, abba. 2. Rose, rout. 3. Rope, roll. 4.
Else, Ella. 5. Ease, earn. 6. Bore, bout. 7. Anon, Anna.
CONNECTED DIAMONDS. Central words, Charles Dickens. I. x.
C. 2. Oho. 3. Opals. 4. Charles. .5 Ollie. 6. See. 7. S.
II, 1. D. 2. Lid. 3. Lucre. 4. Dickens. 5. Dread. 6. End.
7. S.-- CHARADE. Hottentot.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Mozart. Finals, Goethe. Cross-
words: i. MeddlinG. 2. OportO. 3. ZonE. 4. AraraT. 5.
RajaH. 6. Terpsichore.
words: I. ChiCken. 2. SlAte. 3. STy. 4. T. -5. CAt. 6.
Child. 7. BalLoon.
BEHEADED RHYMES. Spout, pout, out. 2. Chill, hill, ill.
WORD-SQUARE. I. Opera. 2. Piper. 3. Epode. 4. Redan.
5. Arena.
RIMLESS WHEEL. From I to 8, Columbus. From i to 9, Cone;
from 2 to 9, Oboe; from 3 to 9, Lane; from 4 to 9, Urge; from 5
to9, Mate; from 6 to 9, Blue; from 7 to 9, Urge; from 8 to 9, Sage.
DOUBLE DIAGONALS. Diagonals, Polka, Waltz. Cross-words:
i. Pshaw. 2. Nomad. 3. Sulky. 4. Stake. 5. Zebra.
EASY BEHEADINGS. Beheaded letters, Colt. i. C-lock. 2.
O-men. 3. L-one. 4. T-ill.
HALF-SQUARE. i. Hudson. 2. Union. 3. Dial. 4. Sol. 5.
On. 6. N. RIDDLE. Bar.

THE NAMES of those who send solutions are printed in the second number after that in which the puzzles appear. Answers should be
addressed to ST. NICHOLAS "Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY CO., 33 East Seventeenth street, New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE SEPTEMBER NUMBER were received, before September 2o, from Elsie T.-Lulu M. Stabler-
Paul Reese-Frances Salisbury Davidson Kennedy Lizzie Hall and Mary Nicolson "The Twins and their Cousin "- S. R. T.-
Estelle Riley- Louisa Stuart Lennox- P. S. Clarkson The Three Graces "- Clara J. Child Willie C. White- Minnie B. Murray
- Maggie T. Turrill -Jennie and Birdie -Arthur Gride- Mamie Hitchcock Francis W. Islip Nip and Tuck "- Hugh and Cis -
Bessie C. Rogers-Jessie A. Platt- F. and H. Davis.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE SEPTEMBER NUMBER were received, before September 20, from Bucknor Van Amringe, i Eliza West-
ervelt, 2- "The Two Annies," o -'Cambridge Livingston, 6- Eddie Shipsey, 4- Violet and Pansy, 2-"We, Us, and Company," 2
- Eva Cora Deemer, i ., 2 Pansy, 6 Pussy B., 3- Effie K. Talboys, 8- Alice F. Wann, -" Chingachgook," i Theodore
S. Palmer, 9- Horace R. Parker, 4-E. P. and J. H., 2- Louisa H., 5-Weston Stickney, 3--Alex. Laidlaw, 6-"Sisters Twain," 9
- Professor and Co., 6- G. M. L., 4 Florence Savoye, 8 Kingfishers," 3 Lillian C. Byrne, 8 -Hattie Brown Badeau, 9 Philip
Embury, Jr., 7 Charles H. Kyte, 8 Ignoramus and Nonentity," 7 O. K. Fagundus, 2 Dycie, 9- Bob Buss and Winkle," 7-
No Name (England)-" Fortress Monroe," 6--Jeannie M. Elliott, 9-Heath Sutherland, 9-"Alcibiades," 9-S. L. P. and John
Hobble, 8 Josephine, Josias, and Jonas, 5 Kate B. Deane, i G. L. and J. W., 4-- May G Jones, 6- Florence E. Provost, 5 Katie
L. Robertson, 6- D. B. Shumway. 6--Charles H. Wright. 5- Eddie, 4- L. I., 6.



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