• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Among the mustangs
 Eli's education: Third spinning-wheel...
 The little girl who wouldn't say...
 Blown out to sea
 Doctor Sophia Edith's office-g...
 Whose scissors did it?
 The coast-guard
 The land of fire
 An alphabet menagerie
 Girl-noblesse. A repeat of...
 Her name
 The brownies' balloon
 Winter fun
 Historic boys
 The wind-flower
 For very little folk: Peanuts
 The St. Nicholas almanac
 March dust
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00140
 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
regular
 Subjects
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
 Notes
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: VID00140
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Among the mustangs
        Page 346
        Page 347
        Page 348
        Page 349
        Page 350
        Page 351
    Eli's education: Third spinning-wheel story
        Page 352
        Page 353
        Page 354
        Page 355
        Page 356
        Page 357
        Page 358
    The little girl who wouldn't say "O"
        Page 359
    Blown out to sea
        Page 360
        Page 361
        Page 362
        Page 363
        Page 364
    Doctor Sophia Edith's office-girl
        Page 365
        Page 366
        Page 367
        Page 368
    Whose scissors did it?
        Page 369
    The coast-guard
        Page 370
    The land of fire
        Page 371
        Page 372
        Page 373
        Page 374
        Page 375
        Page 376
        Page 377
        Page 378
        Page 379
        Page 380
        Page 381
    An alphabet menagerie
        Page 382
        Page 383
        Page 384
        Page 385
        Page 386
        Page 387
    Girl-noblesse. A repeat of history
        Page 388
        Page 389
        Page 390
        Page 391
        Page 392
        Page 393
        Page 394
    Her name
        Page 395
    The brownies' balloon
        Page 396
        Page 397
        Page 398
    Winter fun
        Page 399
        Page 400
        Page 401
        Page 402
        Page 403
        Page 404
        Page 405
    Historic boys
        Page 406
        Page 407
        Page 408
        Page 409
        Page 410
        Page 411
    The wind-flower
        Page 412 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 413
    For very little folk: Peanuts
        Page 414
        Page 415
    The St. Nicholas almanac
        Page 416
    March dust
        Page 417
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 418
        Page 419
    The letter-box
        Page 420
        Page 421
        Page 422
    The riddle-box
        Page 423
        Page 424
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text































































































A STAMPEDE.


_ ~_ I


















NICHOLAS.




MARCH, 1884.

[Copyright, 1884, by THE CENTURY CO.]



AMONG THE MUSTANGS.

BY NOAH BROOKS.


MANY years ago, when I was a Boy Emigrant,
slowly traversing the continent, a party of us one
day were very much surprised by an unexpected
sight that we met in the valley of the South Platte.
We had been traveling through an unknown and
almost trackless country. Only the tracks of the
wheels of emigrant teams ahead of us, and the
occasional wreck of a wagon left behind by other
companies, gave any sign that civilized people had
ever passed that way before. Where the traveler
in the West now finds flourishing towns ....1 i.1i-. :.,
we found nothing but endless and monotonous
prairies, rolling in long, smooth, wavy outlines,
day after day. Descending one of these gentle
declivities about noon, we beheld before and below
us, feeding in a grassy plain, a herd of small horses.
They were mostly of a bright chestnut color,
although many were curiously dappled with patches
of white, red and brown. We were delighted by
the sight. There were no signs of man to be seen.
Not even a solitary horseman stood guard over the
herd. We had heard of the wild horses of the
West. Probably this was a wandering drove of
those beautiful creatures that had been detained
here by the luxuriant grass on which they were
feeding tranquilly, and without any suspicion of
the approach of man. As far as the eye could
reach, there was no human habitation, and we
knew that no emigrants could have been on the
trail with so many horses as these without our hav-
ing heard of it. News traveled back and forth on
the emigrant trail just as it does in villages.


Our wagons were some distance behind us, and
the only lariats we had were with them. We knew
enough about wild horses, or mustangs, to know
that we must be wary and creep up unperceived in
order to throw the lasso, or lariat, slip-noose fash-
ion, over the head of the creature designed for cap-
ture. But, while we waited for the coming of the
wagons, we decided that we would make a little
examination of the field. There were three of us,-
Arthur, Tom, and myself. So we crept cautiously
down the swale of the prairie and tried the effect
of showing ourselves to the grazing herd. To our
great surprise, the horses gave no signs whatever
of fright. The mustang in his native state is very
easily scared and stampeded." It often happens
that a drove of horses, peacefully feeding, will take
fright at some trifle, or at a mere whim, as one may
say, and as soon as one or two start off wildly, the
entire herd will join in the flight as if pursued by
some deadly enemy. They may be alarmed by
the passing of a wolf, or by the playing of the
moonbeams among the underbrush;-no matter
what the cause of their alarm, they fly like the
wind, crashing and plunging over one another, wild
with terror, and blindly scattering far and wide
over the country. This is what the frontiersman
calls a stampede.
But our appearance among the great herd graz-
ing on the banks of the South Platte did not create
any alarm. The keen-sighted animals lifted their
heads, snorted gently, as if saying, How do you
do ?" and went on with their feeding.


ST.


VOL. XI.


No. 5.








AMONG THE MUSTANGS.


"Why, I believe they are tame horses whis-
pered Arty.
'' Nonsense," replied Tom,also lowering his voice,
"there 's no company on the plains, that we 've
heard of, with more than one hundred and fifty
horses; and there must be at least a thousand in that
gang. Whoop Whoop he suddenly cried, and
at the sound, the animals gazed at us and then moved
slowly away toward a belt of timber near the river.
Finding that the herd showed none of that fear
of man which I had been taught to believe that all
wild creatures have, the mystery deepened to me.


CAUGHT. "
We passed through the company of horses, a lane,
or passage, being formed for us by the animals them-
selves, as they moved away on each side from our
immediate neighborhood. Then Tom cried : i.


See, boys, there 's another drove beyond "
He was right; for on looking, we beheld another
and even larger company of horses grazing just on
the other side of the timber belt.
As we almost breathlessly made our way through
the trees to explore this new wonder, I stumbled
upon two Indians lazily lying on their blankets,
but watchfully regarding the herds. Pretty soon
we met two or three more who were similarly occu-
pied. The mystery was explained. These were
Indian ponies. Screened from the rays of the
summer sun, the watchmen were keeping guard in
their usual silent fashion.
I do not know what would
have happened if we had
made any attempt to cap-
ture one of the Indian
horses. It is very likely
that we should have had
trouble very quickly. The
Indian always suspects the
white man, and white boys
Share no better than white
men in their eyes. We
asked the Indian guardi-
ans of the herd where they
-- -came from, and they sur-
-- -- lily replied:
Heap way off. No
grass there."
The spokesman of the
party gave us a very few
items of intelligence about
themselves. He pointed to
the south, and we came to
the conclusion that they
Were Arapahoes, as the
tribe then lived in that
region of the country, and
'' I the dress and fantastic dec-
Sorations of the specimens
before us were like those
of some Arapahoes whom
we had met before.
After this, we frequently
saw mustangs, both in their
native and in their tamed
state. But never again did
we come quite so near pro-
voking a fight with the
'lawful owners of a herd.
The riches of a tribe of
Indians largely consist in
the herds of ponies that are possessed by the whole
company, or group of families. When a chief dies,
his war horses are sacrificed at his grave; and when
he buys a wife or a coveted rifle, he pays the price


348


[MARCH,







AMONG THE MUSTANGS.


in ponies. When a company of Indians moves
camp for a long distance, the great herd of ponies
is usually sent on before, only those needed to
carry the "plunder" be-
ing kept behind. The -- -
Indian pony, or mustang,
is more easily tamed than
the wild horse of Asia,
but is less intelligent and
tractable when he has
been fairly reduced to
bondage.
In droves of tens of
thousands, the wild horse
of North America for-
merly roved the plains
from Western Nebraska
to Mexico. Even within
a very few years, the na-
tive American horse was
to be met with as far
north as the forks of the
Platte River. But the set-
tlement of the country
has crowded the wander-
ing herds farther south,
and now they may be
found only in Texas, New
Mexico, and in regions
far to the south-west.
The Mexicans who live
along the boundary line
of Texas, Arizona, and
New Mexico are most
expert at catching these
wild and timorous creat-
ures. They throw the- :-
lasso with amazing dex- r.
terity. Riding at full
speed, the Mexicans ca-
reer over the plains like
wild men, whirling their coiled lariats, or lassos,
over their heads as they fly. Their horses are cov-
ered with foam, and often bleeding from the cruel
spurs with which they are urged on. The earth
trembles under the tramp of many hoofs beating
the solid ground, as pursuer and pursued gallop
madly far and wide. Suddenly the lariat sings
through the air, its noose opens itself and drops
over the head of a terrified fugitive, the hunter's
steed instantly braces itself with its forefeet and
drops on its haunches so as to make an anchorage,
as it were, for the caught mustang. And there
is no escape now for the captive.
The hunter next blinds his prize, takes a turn
of the lariat around its forelegs, forces a heavy
bit into its mouth, and at once begins to "break"


it to the saddle. How do you suppose the poor
mustang feels when it finds itself saddled, bridled,
and straddled by a tyrant man ? In vain it

. -. ----- r -- -


. r--- -

-'- -"


--A--


4w~p


ATTACKED BY WOLVES.

"jumps stiff-legged," plunges, and "kicks."
No animal in the world has so many tricks and
antics as a newly captured wild horse; but man,
its conqueror, is equal to all of these. In a few
hours, the poor beast, so lately a free and careless
creature, a wild rover of the boundless plains, is
reduced to abject subjection. Its spirit is broken,
and though it may still retain some of its native
viciousness, it is the slave of its owner. Hence-
forth it never forgets the lasso. It knows and
dreads the sight of one ; and if it escapes, there is
very little difficulty in catching it again. But its
rider, too, must never forget that the hapless
captive is only half-tamed. He must watch it
narrowly ; for often afterward, when he least sus-
pects such insubmission, the steed he rides will


349


--








AMONG THE MUSTANGS.


try to throw him, and will struggle under the saddle
as if it were but newly snared.
But man is not the only enemy that the wild
horse dreads. On the outskirts of every herd hang
droves of wolves, waiting for the downfall of some
one of the sick and feeble. When hard pressed
by hunger, a band of wolves will boldly attack
a mustang, the whole band concentrating their
ferocity and skill upon one doomed creature.
They will often circle around an animal that they
have selected for their prey, as if the whole matter
had been agreed on beforehand. The terrified
mustang, snorting with fear and excitement,
plunges away from the main herd, harried at
every jump by the hungry wolves, which snap at
its heels and leap on its flanks, back, and
shoulders, growling and snarling madly. The


long as he lives. How he issues his orders, and
how he takes counsel from others of his company,
no man can tell. But the captain of the band is a
very distinctly marked character. He is every inch
a leader, and he is always at the head of the
column. He is on guard, too, when the young
wild colts are being reared. It is he that gives
warning on the approach of a foe, and he has to
fight for his own supremacy, sometimes, when
turbulent spirits appear among the herd.
A duel between rival mustangs is a fascinating,
but not a pleasant sight. They bite, kick, and rush
at each other like mad horses. One could hardly
imagine that horses could be so like lions and tigers
as are these mustangs when enraged. The sound
of their cries and shrieks may be heard far across
the prairie, and the combatants will often be scarred


t. .' c.. .


"IN A
mustang stops, rears, plunges, and finally sinks,
though still struggling, in the midst of its raven-
ous foes. Meantime, the rest of the herd of horses
has been scattered by the attack, far over the
prairies, and it may be many hours, even days,
before they are rallied again into their usual
compact marching order, under the leader of the
band.
The leadership of a drove of mustangs is deter-
mined by the superior prowess and endurance of
the candidate. So far as we can judge, the herd
selects its leader, and he is implicitly obeyed as


BLIZZARD."

and lame for days from wounds received in these
fights.
The mustang has a hard time of it in winter
In the more northerly of the haunts of the wild
horse, snow falls to a great depth, at times, and
scanty picking does the hungry animal get when
the succulent bunch-grass is covered with fleecy
'folds. One may see the herd, at such times, paw-
ing away the snow and nosing among the hillocks
for food. Nature has been kind to the wandering
bison and mustang, however, for the grass is
sweet and nutritious all through the winter. The


350


[MARCH,







AMONG THE MUSTANGS.


sagacious mustangs know just where to look for
the hidden stores of food, and find the dry and
hay-like tufts by scraping off the snow that keeps
them sheltered for their use.
Overtaken by a snow-storm of bitter severity, or
a "blizzard" (as such a storm is called in the
West), the mustangs suffer greatly. Often a storm
of snow and wind, sweeping down from the north,
prevails for fifty or sixty hours. The air is filled
with particles of fine dry ice and snow. The wind
blows a gale, and there is no abatement, no lull,
for days at a time. Those who have never experi-
enced the force and penetrative quality of a "bliz-
zard," can not appreciate the discomfort that
covers a storm-swept prairie in the dead of winter.
No garment can resist the dagger-like stabs of
the cold, and no structure is secure against its
searching blasts. The poor mustangs huddle to-
gether, with their heads turned from the direction
of the wind, crowding close to be warmed by each
other's bodies, shivering with cold, and scarcely
stirring for many hours at a time. If the hunter
chances to pass a herd at such a time, he would
have no difficulty in catching any desired number
of the half-frozen beasts. But no man ventures
out in such a perilous storm, except on errands
of the direst necessity. The shelterless mustangs
are often unable to find the slightest screen from
the icy wind, and thousands of them thus miser-
ably perish every year. The wild, free life of the
untamed horse of the western prairies has its dark
side as well as its sunshine and joy.
The wild horse of America, although now native
to the soil, is descended from the tribes of wild
horses that still rove the plains of Central Asia.
When the discoverers of this continent first landed,
there were no horses anywhere in either North or
South America. Centuries before, the horse had
been introduced into European countries from
Asia, and had become common all over that conti-
nent. When Columbus arrived here on his second
voyage, in 1493, he was accompanied by one
Cabea de Vaca, who brought with him a number
of horses. These were subsequently landed in
Florida, although Columbus and his other com-
panions, notably Blonza de Ojeda, introduced
horses into the islands which we now call the West
Indies. But the first horses of which any mention
is made as having been landed in what is now a
portion of the United States, were those taken to
Florida.
Cortez took horses with him to assist in
the conquest of Mexico, as did Pizarro in his
conquest of Peru. The natives were greatly


affrighted when they beheld these strange ani-
mals. At first they supposed that the man and
the horse were one complete creature, something
like the centaur of which we read in ancient fable.
And when they saw the rider dismount and disen-
gage himself from his steed, their amazement knew
no bounds. They had already looked upon the
white men as descended from heaven; the ability
to ride, and to dismount from, horses seemed to
the simple savages a supernatural gift.
A mounted cavalier, or a man-at-arms, clad as
the invaders were, in glittering armor, must have
been a very terrible sight to the Indians. In course
of time, the savages learned that the horse was an
animal that hadbeen subdued by man, and that it
was a separate creature; but they long dreaded
the horse of the Spaniards as a beast of prey. And
when the horses escaped from their masters, and
made their way into the freedom of the forests, as
they did after a space, the natives avoided them as
something to be shunned. The quarreling Spaniards
neglected their steeds, which soon found homes
on the plains of Mexico, South America, and the
unexplored interior of North America. From
these escaped animals have sprung the wild horses
of America. The mustang, as the native horse of
the North American continent is usually called,
is generally of a bright chestnut color. The horses
marked with odd colors and patches are called
"pinto," or "painted," by the Mexicans, and
"calico" by the Americans. The mustang is
smaller than the domesticated American horse;
for we must remember that the larger horses now
found in our stables are the direct descendants of
later importations from Europe, while those brought
by the early explorers, having been allowed to flee
to the wilderness, there founded the race now known
as the native horse of America.
Arty, Tom, and I discussed all these things as
we sat on a rise of ground beyond the grazing
herd of Indian ponies, and regarded the pretty
sight below us in the valley of the Platte.
"Well," said Arty, with something like a sigh
of satisfaction, I 'm glad we did n't try to capture
one of those mustangs before we discovered the
Indians. They would have killed us, I suppose."
Tom looked wisely at the horses, and said:
"But it's mighty curious to think that the
Spaniards are all gone out of the country, and that
the Indians are left with the Spaniards' horses."
Yes," I said, the Western Indians and these
mustangs are the sole survivors of the early fights
that marked the coming of the Spanish con-
querors."


351







SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.


SPa 'SE UCA I1





THIRD SPINNING-WHEEL STORY.

BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.


MY turn now," said Walt, as they assembled
again after a busy day spent in snow-balling,
statue-making, and tumbling in the drifts that still
continued to rise on all sides.
Here is just the story for you and Geoff. You
are getting ready for college, after years of the best
schooling, and it will do you good to hear how
hard some boys have had to work to get a little
learning," said Grandma, glancing at the slip that
Walt drew from the basket which Aunt Elinor held
out to him, and from which Lottie had drawn the
story of Tabby's Table Cloth," told last month.
"This is a true tale, and the man became
famous for his wisdom, as well as much loved and
honored for his virtue and interest in all good
things," added Aunt Elinor, as she began to read
the story of Eli's Education."

Many years ago, a boy of sixteen sat in a little
room in an old farm-house up among the Con-
necticut hills, writing busily in a book made of
odd bits of paper stitched together, with a cover
formed of two thin boards. The lid of a blue chest
was his desk, the end of a tallow candle stuck into
a potato was his lamp, a mixture of soot and
vinegar his ink, and a quill from the gray goose his
pen. A Webster's Spelling-book, Dilworth's New
Guide to the English Tongue, Daboll's Arithmetic,
and the American Preceptor, stood on the chimney-
piece over his head, with the Assembly Catechism
and New Testament in the place of honor. This
was his library; and now and then a borrowed
Pilgrim's Progress, Fox's Book of Martyrs, or some
stray volume, gladdened his heart; for he' pas-
sionately loved books, and scoured the neighbor-
hood for miles around to feed this steadily increas-
ing hunger. Every penny he could earn or save
went to buy a song or a story from the peddlers
who occasionally climbed the hill to the solitary
farm-house. When others took a noon-spell, he
read under the trees or by the fire. He carried a


book in his pocket, and studied as he went with the
cows to and from the pasture, and sat late in his
little room ciphering on an old slate, or puzzling his
young brain over some question which no one
could answer for him.
His father had no patience with him, called him
a shiftless dreamer, and threatened to burn the be-
loved books. But his mother defended him, for
he was her youngest and the pride of her heart; so
she let him scribble all over her floors before she
scrubbed them up, dipped extra thick candles for
his use, saved every scrap of paper to swell his
little store, and firmly believed that he would turn
out the great man of the family. His brothers
joked about his queer ways, but in his sisters he
found firm friends and tender comforters for all his
woes. So he struggled along, working' on the
farm in summer and in a clock shop during the
winter, with such brief spells of schooling as he
could get between whiles, improving even these
poor opportunities so well that he was letter-writer
for all the young people in the neighborhood.
Now, he was writing his journal very slowly, but
very well, shaping his letters with unusual grace
and freedom; for the wide snow-banks were his
copy-books in winter, and on their white pages he
had learned to sweep splendid capitals or link syl-
lables handsomely together. This is what he wrote
that night, with a sparkle in the blue eyes and a
firm folding of the lips that made the boyish face
resolute and manly.
"I am set in my own mind that I get learning. I see not how,
but my will is strong, and Mother hopes for to make a scholar of me.
So, please God, we shall do it."
Then he shut the little book and put it carefully
away in the blue chest, with pen and ink, as if they
were very precious things; piously said his prayers,
and was soon asleep under the homespun coverlet,
dreaming splendid dreams, while a great bright
star looked in at .the low window, as if waiting to
show him the road to fortune.


[MARCH,


352







SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.


And God did please to help the patient lad;
only the next evening came an opportunity he had
never imagined. As he sat playing Over the Hills
and Far Away on the fiddle that he had himself
made out of maple-wood, with a bow strung from
the tail of the old farm horse, a neighbor came in
to talk over the fall pork and cider, and tell the
news.
Ef you want ter go over the hills and far away,
Eli, here 's the chance. I see a man down to
Woodtick who was askin' ef I knew any likely
young chap who 'd like to git scriberss for a pious
book he wants to sell. He 'd pay for the job when
the names is got and the books give out. That 's
ruther in your line, boy, so I calk'lated your daddy
would spare you, as you are n't much of a hand at
shuckin' corn nor cartin' pummace."
Haw haw laughed the big brothers, Am-
brose Vitruvius and Junius Solomon, as neighbor
Terry spoke with a sly twinkle in his eye.
But the sisters, Miranda and Pamela, smiled for
joy, while the good mother stopped her busy
wheel to listen eagerly. Eli laid down his fiddle
and came to the hearth where the others sat, with
such a wide-awake expression on his usually
thoughtful face that it was plain he liked the idea.
I'11 do it, if Father '11 let me," he said, looking
wistfully at the industrious man who was shaving
axe-handles, for the winter wood-chopping, after
his day's work was over.
Wal, I can spare you for a week, mebby. It's
not time for the clock shop yet, and sence you 've
heerd o' this, you wont do your chores right, so you
may as wal see what you can make of peddlin'."
Thank you, sir; I'll give you all I get to pay
for my time," began Eli, glowing with pleasure at
the prospect of seeing a little of the world; for one
of his most cherished dreams was to cross the blue
hills that hemmed him in, and find what lay be-
yond.
Guess I can afford to give you all you 'll make
this trip," answered his father, in a tone that made
the brothers laugh again.
Boys, don't pester Eli. Every one has n't a call
to farmin', and its wal to fowler the leading's of Provi-
dence when they come along," said the mother,
stroking the smooth, brown head at her knee; for
Eli always went to her footstool with his sorrows
and his joys.
So it was settled, and next day the boy, in his
homespun and home-made Sunday best, set off to
see his employer and secure the job. He got it,
and for three days trudged up and down the steep
roads, calling at every house with a sample of his
book, the Rev. John Flavel's treatise on Keeping
The Heart. Eli's winning face, modest manner,
and earnest voice served him well, and he got


many names; for books were scarce in those days,
and a pious work was a treasure to many a good
soul who found it difficult to keep the heart strong
and cheerful in troublous times.
Then the books were to be delivered, and, anx-
ious to save his small earnings, Eli hired no horse
to transport his load, but borrowed a stout, green
shawl from his mother, and, with his pack on his
back, marched bravely away to finish his task.
His wages were spent in a new prayer-book for his
mother, smart handkerchief pins for the faithful
sisters, and a good store of paper for himself.
This trip was so successful that he was seized
with a strong desire to try a more ambitious and
extended one; for these glimpses of the world
showed him how much he had to learn, and how
pleasantly he could pick up knowledge in these
flights.
What be you a-brewdin' over now, boy? Get-
tin' ready for the clock shop? It's 'most time for
winter work, and Terry says you do pretty wal
at putting' together," said the farmer, a day or two
after the boy's return, as they sat at dinner, all
helping themselves from the large pewter platter
heaped with pork and vegetables.
I was wishin' I could go South with Gad Upson.
He's been twice with clocks and notions, and wants
a mate. Hoadley fits him out and pays him a good
share if he does well. Couldn't I go along? I
hate that old shop, and I know I can do something
better than put together the insides of cheap clocks."
Eli spoke eagerly, and gave his mother an im-
ploring look which brought her to second the mo-
tion at once, her consent having been already won.
The brothers stared as if Eli had proposed to go
up .in a balloon, for to them the South seemed
farther off than Africa does nowadays. The father
had evidently been secretly prepared, for he showed
no surprise, and merely paused a moment to look
at his ambitious son with a glance in which amuse-
ment and reproach were mingled.
When a hen finds she's hatched a duck's egg
it 's no use for her to cackle; that ducklin' will
take to the water in spite on her, and paddle off,
nobody knows where. Go ahead, boy, and when
you get enough ofjunketin' 'round the world come
home and fall to work."
Then I may go ? cried Eli, upsetting his
mug of cider in his excitement.
His father nodded, being too busy eating cab-
bage with a wide-bladed green-handled knife to
speak just then. Eli, red and speechless with
delight and gratitude, could only sit and beam at
his family till a sob drew his attention to sister
Pamela, whose pet he was.
"Don't, Pam, don't! I'll come back all right,
and bring you news and all the pretty things I








SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.


can. I must go; I feel as if I could n't breathe
shut up here winters. I s'pose it's wicked, but I
can't help it," whispered Eli, with his arm around
his buxom eighteen-year old sister, who laid her
head on his shoulder and held him tight.
Daughter, it's sinful to repine at the ways of
Providence. I see a leading' plain in this, and ef I
can be chirk when my dear boy is going 'pears to
me you ought to keep a taut rein on your feeling's,
and not spile his pleasure."
The good mother's eyes were full of tears as she
spoke, but she caught up the end of her short
gown and wiped them quickly away to smile on
Eli, who thanked her with a loving look.
It's so lonesome when he 's not here. What
will we do evenings without the fiddle, or Eli to read
a piece in some of his books while we spin ? said
poor Pam, ashamed of her grief, yet glad to hide
her tears by affecting to settle the long wooden
bodkin that held up her coils of brown hair.
Obed Finch will be comin' along, I guess
likely, and he'll read to you out uv Eli's book
about keeping' the heart, and you'll find your'n
gone 'fore you know it," said Junius Solomon, in
a tone that made pretty Pam blush and run away,
while the rest laughed at her confusion.
So it was settled, and when all was ready, the
boy came home to show his equipment before he
started. A very modest outfit-only two tin trunks
slung across the shoulders, filled with jewelry,
combs, lace, essences, and small wares.
I hate to have ye go, son, but it's better than
to be mopin' to hum, getting' desperut for books and
rilin' Father. We 'll all be working' for ye, so
be chipper and do wal. Keep steddy, and don't
disgrace your folks. The Lord bless ye, my dear
boy, and hold ye in the holler of His hand "
Her own rough hand. was on his head as his
mother spoke, with wet eyes, and the tall lad kissed
her tenderly, whispering, with a choke in his
throat:
"Good-bye, Mammy dear; I'll remember."
Then he tramped away to join his mate, turning
now and then to nod and smile and show a ruddy
face full of happiness, while the family watched
him out of sight with mingled hopes and doubts
and fears.
Mails were slow in those days, but at length a
letter came, and here it is, a true copy of one
written by a boy in 1820:
NORFOLK VA., December 4th.
HONORED PARENTS: I write to inform you I am safe here and to
work. Our business is profitable, and I am fast learning the Quirks
and Turns of trade. We are going to the eastern shore of Va., cal-
culating to be gone six weeks. The inhabitants are sociable and
hospitable, and you need not fear I shall suffer, for I find many
almost fathers and mothers among these good folks.
Taking our trunks, we travel through the country, entering the
houses of the rich and poor, offering our goods, and earning our


wages by the sweat of our brows. How do you think we look?
Like two Awkward, Homespun, Tugging Yankee peddlers ? No, that
is not the case. By people of breeding we are treated with polite-
ness and gentility, and the low and vulgar we do not seek. For my
part, I enjoy traveling more than I expected. Conversation with
new folks, observing manners and customs, and seeing the world,
does me great good.
"I never met a real gentlemantill I came here. Their hospitality
allows me to see and copy their fine ways of acting and speaking,
and they put the most Bashful at ease. Gad likes the maids and
stays in the kitchen most times. I get into the libraries and read when
we put up nights, and the ladies are most kind to me everywhere.
"I 'm so tall, they can't believe I 'm only sixteen. They are n't as
pretty as our rosy-faced girls, but their ways are elegant, and so are
their clothes, tell Pam.
"When I think how kind you were to let me come, I am full of
gratitude. I made some verses, one day, as I waited in a hovel for
the rain to hold up.
To conduce to my own and parents' good,
Was why I left my home;
To make their cares and burdens less,
And try to help them some.
'T was my own choice to earn them cash,
And get them free from debt;
Before that I am twenty-one
It shall be done, I bet.
My parents they have done for me
What I for them can never do,
So if I serve them all I may,
Sure God will help me through.
My chief delight, therefore, shall be
To earn them all I can,
Not only now but when that I
At last am my own man.
"These are the genuine Sentiments of your son,who returns thanks
for the many favors you have heaped upon him, and hopes to repay
you by his best Endeavors. Accept this letter and the inclosed small
sum as a token of his love and respect.
Tell the girls to write. Your dutiful son, ELI.
In reply to this came a letter from the anxious
mother, which shows not only the tender, pious
nature of the good woman, but also how much
need of education the boy had, and how well he
was doing for himself:
"AFFECTIONATE SON : We was very glad to receive your letter. I
feal very anctious about you this winter, and how you are a doing.
You cannot know a mother's concern for her boy wen he is fur away.
Do not git into bad habbits. Take the Bible for your rule and guide
to vartue. I pray for your prosperity in all spiritall and temporrall
things, and leave you in the care of Him who gave you breath and
will keep you safe.
We are all well, and your father enjoys his health better than last
year. I visited Uncle Medad a spell last week. I am provided
with a horse and shay to ride to meatin. Mr. Eben Welton took
our cow and give us his old horse. Captain Stephen Harrington
was excommunicated last Sabbath. Pamely goes away to learn
dressmakin soon. I mistrust Mirandy will take up with Pennel
Haskell; he is likely, and comes frequent. I wish you had been
here a Christmas. We had a large company to dinner, and I got
some wheat flower and made a fine chicken pye. Eli, I hope you
attend meatin when you can. Do not trifle away the holy day in
vane pleasures, but live to the glory of God, and in the fear of
your parents. Father sold the white colt. He was too spirit, and
upsat Ambrose and nigh broke his head. His nose is still black.
Dear son: I miss you every time I set a platter in your place. Is
your close warm and sufficient? Put your stockin round your throat
if sore. Do you git good cyder to drink? Take the Pennyryal if
you feal wimbly after a long spell of travil. The girls send love. No
more now. Wright soon.
Your mother, HANNAH GARDENER."
P. S.- Liddy Finch is married Our pigs give us nine hunderd
pound of prime pork."


[MARCH,







SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.


355


Many such letters went to and fro that winter,
and Eli faithfully reported all his adventures. For
he had many, and once or twice was in danger of
losing his life.
On one occasion, having parted from his mate
for a day or two, wishing to try his luck alone, our
young peddler found himself, late in the afternoon,
approaching the Dismal Swamp. A tempest arose,
adding to the loneliness and terror of the hour.
The cypresses uprooted by the blast fell now and
then across the road, endangering the poor boy's
head. A sluggish stream rolled through tangled
junipers and beds of reeds, and the fen on either
side was full of ugly creatures, lizards, snakes,
and toads, while owls, scared by the storm, flew
wildly about and hooted dismally. Just at the
height of the tumult, Eli saw three men coming
toward him, and gladly hastened to meet them,
hoping to have their company or learn of them
where he could find a shelter. But their bad faces
daunted him, and he would have hurried by with-
out speaking if they had not stopped him, roughly
demanding his name and business. -
The tall stripling was brave, but his youthful
face showed him to be but a boy, and the con-
sciousness of a well-filled purse in his pocket made
him anxious to escape. So he answered briefly,
and tried to go on. But two men held him, in
spite of his struggles, while the third rifled his
pockets, broke open his trunks, and took all that
was of any value in the way of watches and jew-
elry. Then they left him with a cruel joke about
a good journey and made off with their booty. It
was the first time poor Eli had met with such a mis-
hap, and as he stood in the rain looking at his wares
scattered about the road, he felt inclined to throw
himself into the creek and forget his woes there
among the frogs and snakes. But he had a stout
heart, and soon decided to make the best of it,
since nothing could be done to mend the matter.
Gathering up his bedraggled laces, scattered scent-
bottles, and dirty buttons, pins, and needles, he
trudged sadly on, feeling that for him this was
indeed a Dismal Swamp.
I told you we'd better stick together, but you
wanted to be so dreadful smart, and go stramashin'
off alone in them out 'n the way places. Might
'a' known you'd get overhauled somers. I always
did think you was a gump, Eli, and now I'm
sure on't," was all the comfort Gad gave him
when they met and the direful tale was told.
"What shall I do now?" asked the poor lad.
My notions are n't worth selling, and my money's
gone. I'll have to pay Hoadley somehow."
You'd better foot it home and go to choppin'
punkins for the cows, or help your marm spin.
I vow 1 never did see such a chap for getting'


into a mess," scolded Gad, who was a true Yankee,
and made a successful trader, even in a small way.
"We'll sleep on it," said Eli, gently, and went
to bed very low in his mind.
Perhaps a few tears wet his pillow as he lay
awake, and the prayers his mother taught him
were whispered in the silence of the night; for
hope revived, comfort came, and in the morning
his serene face and sensible plan proved to his
irate friend that the gump" had a wise head
and a manly heart, after all.
Gad, it is just the time for the new almanacs,
and Allen wants men to sell 'em. I thought it
was small business before, but beggars must n't be
choosers, so I 'm going right off to offer for the job
'round here. It will do for a start, and if I'm
smart, Allen will give me a better chance may be."
"That's a fust-rate plan. Go ahead, and I '11
say a good word for you. Allen knows me, and
books is in your line, so I guess you 'll do wal if
you keep out'n the mashes," answered Gad, with
great good will, having slept off his vexation.
The plan did go well, and for weeks the rosy-
faced, gentle-voiced youth might have been seen
Mildly offering the new almanacs at doors and
shops, and at street corners, with a wistful look in
his blue eyes, and a courtesy of manner that at-
tracted many customers and earned many a dollar.
Several mates, envying his fine handwriting and
pitying his hard luck, took lessons in penmanship
of him and paid him fairly, whereat he rejoiced
over the hours spent at home, flat on the kitchen
floor, or flourishing splendid capitals on the snow-
banks, when his nose was blue with cold and his
hands half-frozen.
When the season for the yellow-covered Alma-
nacs was over, Eli, having won the confidence of
his employer, was fitted out with more notions, and
again set forth on his travels, armed, this time, and
in company with his townsman. He prospered
well, and all winter trudged to and fro, seemingly a
common peddler, but really a student, making the
world-his book, and bent on learning all he could.
Travel taught him geography and history, for he
soon knew every corner of Virginia; looked long-
ingly at the ancient walls of William and Mary
College, where Jefferson and Monroe studied;
where young George Washington received his sur-
veyor's commission, and in his later years served
as Chancellor. In Yorktown, he heard all about
the siege of 1781, saw Lord Cornwallis's lodgings
and the cave named for him; met pleasant people,
whose fine speech and manners he carefully copied;
read excellent books wherever he could find them,
and observed, remembered, and stored away all that
he saw, heard, and learned, to help and adorn his
later life.


1884.1







SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.


By spring he set out for home, having slowly
saved enough to repay Hoadley for the lost goods.
But as if Providence meant to teach him another
lesson, and make him still more prudent, humble,
and manly, a sad adventure befell him on his way.
While waiting for the coaster that was to take


nearly drowned Eli by clinging to his legs as he
went down. Freeing himself with difficulty, Eli
tried to save his friend; but the current swept
the helpless man away, and he was lost. Hur-
riedly dressing, Eli ran for aid, but found him-
self regarded with suspicion by those to whom he


il 1 ''' I
,i I''' I
--~ i I ':; ii I i



'I -

II -I





-4 ; -9:--<:;i iF


r ,
V.


A -.r ,
ella. : ^- 1~--:~-;~--


"TWO MEN HELD HIM, WHILE THE THIRD RIFLED HIS POCKETS AND BROKE OPEN HIS TRUNKS."


them home, he one day went in swimming with told his story; for he was a stranger in the place
Gad; for this was one of the favorite pastimes of and certain peddlers who had gone before had left
the Connecticut boys, who on Saturday nights a bad name behind them.
congregated by the score at a pond called Benson's To his horror, he was arrested, accused of mur-
Pot, and leaped from the spring-board like circus der, and would have been tried for his life, if Mr.
tumblers, turning somersaults into the deep water Alien of Norfolk had not come to testify to his
below, good character, and set him free. Poor Gad's
It was too early for such sport now; the water body was found and buried, and after a month's
was very cold, and poor Gad, taken with cramp, delay, Eli set out again, alone, heavy-hearted, and


[MARCH,







SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.


very poor, for all his own little savings had been con-
sumed by various expenses. Mr. Hoadley's money
was untouched, but not increased, as he hoped to
have it; and rather than borrow a penny of it, Eli
landed barefooted. His boots were so old he
threw them overboard, and spent his last dollar
for a cheap pair of shoes to wear when he appeared
at home, for they were not stout enough to stand
travel. So, like Franklin with his rolls, the lad
ate crackers and cheese as he trudged through
the city, and set out for the far-away farm-house
among the hills.
A long journey, but a pleasant one, in spite of
his troubles; for spring made the world lovely,
habit made walking no hardship, and all he had
seen in his wanderings passed before him at will,
like a panorama full of color and variety.
Letters had gone before, but it was a sad home-
coming, and when all was told, Eli said:
Now, Father, I '11 go to work. I 've had my
wish and enjoyed it a sight; and would go again,
but I feel as if I ought to work as long as I can't
pay for my time."
That's hearty, son, and I'm obleeged to ye.
Hear what Mother 's got to say, and then do
whichever you perfer," answered the farmer, with a
nod toward his wife, who, with the girls, seemed full
of some pleasant news which they longed to tell.
I 've sold all the cloth we made last winter
for a good sum, and Father says you may hev the
spending' on 't. It will be enough to pay your
board down to Uncle Tillotson's while you study
with him, so 's 't you kin be getting' ready for col-
lege next year. I 've sot my heart on 't, and you
must n't disapp'int me and the girls," said the
good woman, with a face full of faith and pride in
her boy, in spite of all mishaps.
"Oh, Mammy, how good you be! It don't
seem as if I ought to take it. But I do want to
go cried Eli, catching her round the neck in
an ecstasy of boyish delight and gratitude.
Here Miranda and Pamela appeared, bringing
their homely gifts of warm hose and new shirts
made from wool and flax grown by the father, and
spun and woven by the accomplished housewife.
A very happy youth was Eli when he again set
off to the city with his humble outfit and slender
purse, though Father still looked doubtful, and the
brothers were more sure than ever that Eli was a
fool to prefer dry books to country work and fun.
A busy year followed, Eli studying, as never boy
studied before, with the excellent minister, who
soon grew proud of his best pupil. Less prepa-
ration was needed in those days, and perhaps more
love and industry went to the work; for necessity
is a stern master, and poor boys often work won-
ders if the spark of greatness is there.


Eli had his wish in time, and went to college,
mother and sisters making it possible by the
sale of their handiwork; for the girls were famous
spinners, and the mother the best weaver in
the country around. How willingly they toiled
for Eli! rising early and sitting late, cheering
their labor with loving talk of the dear lad's prog-
ress, and an unfailing faith in his future success.
Many a long ride did that good mother take to
the city, miles away, with a great roll of cloth
on the pillion behind her to sell, that she might
pay her son's college bills. Many a coveted pleas-
ure did the faithful sisters give up that they might
keep Eli well clothed, or send him some country
dainty to cheer the studies which seemed to them
painfully hard and mysteriously precious. Father
began to take pride in the ugly duckling now,
and brothers to brag of his great learning.
Neighbors came in to hear his letters, and when
vacation brought him home, the lads and lasses
regarded him with a certain awe, for his manners
were better, his language purer, than theirs, and
the new life he led refined the country boy till he
seemed a gentleman.
The second year he yielded to temptation, and
got into debt. Being anxious to do credit to his
family, of whom he was secretly a little ashamed
about this time, he spent money on his clothes,
conscious that he was a comely youth with a great
love of beauty and a longing for all that cultivates
and embellishes character and life. An elegant
gentleman astonished the hill folk that season by
appearing at the little church in a suit such as the
greatest rustic dandy never imagined in his wildest
dreams,-the tall white hat with rolling brim,
Marseilles vest with watch-chain and seals fes-
tooned across it, the fine blue coat with its brass
buttons, and the nankeen trousers strapped over
boots so tight that it was torture to walk in them.
Armed with a cane in the well-gloved hand, an
imposing brooch in the frills of the linen shirt,
Eli sauntered across the Green, the observed of all
observers, proudly hoping that the blue eyes of a
certain sweet Lucinda were fixed admiringly upon
him.
The boys were the first to recover from the
shock, and promptly resented the transformation
of their former butt into a city beau, by jeering
openly and affecting great scorn of the envied
splendor. The poor jackdaw, somewhat abashed
at the effect of his plumes, tried to prove that he
felt no superiority by being very affable, which won
the lasses, but failed to soften the hearts of the
boys; and when he secured the belle of the village
for the Thanksgiving drive and dance, the young
men resolved that pride should have a fall.
Arrayed in all his finery, Eli drove pretty Lu-


1884.]







SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.


cinda in a smart borrowed wagon to the tavern
where the dance was held. Full of the airs and
graces he had learned at college, the once bash-
ful, awkward Eli was the admired of all eyes
as he pranced down the long contra-dance in the
agonizing boots, or played "threading the needle"
without the least reluctance on the part of the
blushing girls to pay the fine of a kiss when the
players sung the old rhyme:
The needle's eye no one can pass;
The thread that runs so true-
It has caught many a pretty lass,
And now it has caught you."
But his glory was short-lived, for some enemy
maliciously drew out the linchpin from the smart
wagon, and as they were gayly driving homeward
over the hills, the downfall.came, and out they both
went, to the great damage of Eli's city suit and poor
Lucinda's simple finery.
Fortunately, no bones were broken, and picking
themselves up, they sadly footed it home, hoping
the mishap would remain unknown. But the
rogues took care that Eli should not escape, and
the whole neighborhood laughed over the joke;
for the fine hat was ruined, and the costly coat
split down the back in the ignominious tumble.
Great was the humiliation of the poor student;
for not only was he ridiculed, but Lucinda would
not forgive him, and the blue eyes smiled upon
another; and, worst of all, he had to confess his
debts and borrow money of his father to pay them.
He meekly bore the stern rebuke that came with
the hard-earned dollars, but the sight of the tears
his mother shed, even while she comforted him,
filled him with remorse. He went back to his
books, in a homespun suit, a sadder and a wiser
boy, and fell to work as if resolved to wash out
past errors and regain the confidence he had lost.
All that winter the wheels turned and the loom
jangled, that the rolls of cloth might be increased,
and never was the day too cold, the way too long,
for the good mother's pious pilgrimage.
That summer, a man came home to them, shabby
enough as to his clothes, but so wonderfully im-
proved in other ways that not only did the women
folk glow with tender pride, but father and brothers
looked at him with respect, and owned at last there
was something in Eli. No vacation for me," he
said; I must work to pay my debts, and as I am
not of much use here, I '11 try my old plan, and
peddle some money into my empty pockets."
It was both comic and pathetic to see the should-
ers that had worn the fine broadcloth, burdened
with a yoke, the hands that had worn kid gloves,
grasping the tin trunks, and the dapper feet trudg-
ing through dust and dew in cow-hide boots. But
the face under the old straw hat was a manlier one


than that which the tall beaver crowned, and the
heart under the rough vest was far happier than
when the gold chain glittered above it. He did so
well, that when he returned to college his debts
were paid and the family faith in Eli restored.
That was an eventful year; for one brother mar-
ried, and one went off to seek his fortune, the
father mortgaging his farm to give these sons a
fair start in life. Eli was to be a minister, and the
farmer left his fortunes in the hands of his wife,
who, like many another good mother, was the mak-
ing of the great man of the :-- .11 and was content
with that knowledge, leaving him the glory.
The next year, Eli graduated with honor, and
went home, to be received with great rejoicing, just
twenty-one, and a free man. He had longed for
this time, and planned a happy, studious life, pre-
paring to preach the gospel in a little parsonage of
his own. But suddenly all was changed; joy turned
to sorrow, hope to doubt, and Eli was called to re-
linquish liberty for duty, to give up his own dreams
of a home to keep a roof over the heads of the dear
mother and the faithful sisters. His father died sud-
denly, leaving very little for the women folk beside
the independence that lay in the skill of their own
thrifty hands. The elder brothers could not offer
much help, and Eli was the one to whom the poor
souls turned in their hour of sorrow and anxiety.
"Go on, dear, and don't pester yourself about
us. We can find food and firin' here as long as
the old farm is ours. I guess we can manage to
pay off the mortgage by-and-by. It don't seem as
if I could turn out after livin' here ever sense I
was married, and poor father so fond don't "
The widow covered her face with her apron, and
Eli put his arms about her, saying in.-i .fl., as he
gave up all his fondest hopes for her dearer sake:
"Cheer up, Mother, and trust to me. I should be
a poor fellow if I allowed you and the girls to want,
after all you've done for me. I can get a school, and
earn instead of spend. Teaching and studying
can go on together. I'm sure I should n't prosper
if I shirked my duty, and I wont." The three sad
women clung to him, and the brothers, looking at
his brave, bright face, felt that Eli was indeed a man
to lean on and to love in times like this.
"Well," thought the young philosopher, "the
Lord knows what is best for me, and perhaps this
is a part of my education. I '11 try to think so,
and hope to get some good out of a hard job."
In this spirit he set about teaching, and pros-
pered wonderfully, for his own great love of learn-
ing made it an easy and delightful task to help
others as he had longed to be helped. His inno-
cent and tender nature made all children love him,
and gave him a remarkable power over them; so
when the first hard months were past, and his


[MARCH,







SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.


efforts began to bear fruit, he found that what had
seemed an affliction was a blessing, and that teach-
ing was his special gift. Filial duty sweetened the
task, a submissive heart found happiness in self-
sacrifice, and a wise soul showed him what a noble
and lovely work it was to minister to little chil-
dren ;-for of such is the kingdom of heaven.
For years Eli taught, and his school grew
famous; for he copied the fashions of other coun-
tries, invented new methods, and gave himself so
entirely to his profession that he could not fail
of success. The mortgage was paid off, and Eli
made frequent pilgrimages to the dear old mother


whose staff and comfort he still was. The sisters
married well, the brothers prospered, and at thirty,
the schoolmaster found a nobler mate than pretty
Lucinda, and soon had some little pupils of his
very own to love and teach.
There his youth ends; but after the years of
teaching he began to preach at last, not in one
pulpit, but in many all over the land, diffusing
good thoughts now as he had peddled small wares
when a boy; still learning as he went, still loving
books and studying mankind, still patient, pious,
dutiful, and tender, a wise and beautiful old man,
till at eighty, Eli's education ended.


THE LITTLE
GIRL WHO
WOULD N'T
: SAY "0."

BY MARY A. LATHBURY.


A LITTLE girl would
n't say '"-"
(She was learning her
letters, you know);
And the very same
night
She awoke in a
fright,
For the Letter-land
King on his throne
Said 0 in a thun-
derous tone,-
And it startled her
so
That she quickly said
"Oh!"
And the little girl's
trouble was done.


II" 1s


'Ii
i '

1,1





!'




Si
I,


2884.1


i


II ;Y







BLOWN OUT TO SEA.


BLOWN OUT TO SEA.

BY C. F. HOLDER.


_ ..-
Pxr Czt.


--,-'-,' r 5 -,W mo


BIRDS RESTING ON A BUOY.
spring is the carol of the birds. Th
notes of the robin are heard among the
birds soon follow, and so punctually an
that a gentleman in Connecticut for se
has predicted the day of their arrival
single error, and that of only twenty-
How little we think of the real mean
sudden appearance To us it is the enc
they bring us word of the spring
journeying north with them; but to thi
the end of a long, tiresome pilgrimage
Many of our birds fly several thou
every autumn, passing not only ov
where they might find perpetual summ
the Gulf and far beyond into the gr
land of the Amazon ; after a short stay
again to the North, some penetrating
treme shores of the Arctic seas. Ho
birds fly so great distances is almost in
sible, but I have seen many of our sma
friends on the little Key of Tortugas, t'


_t3*
'

I -/



.' Ni-


.. AT.


i F.:, i i !i. .. ... : I.-.,', ,' i i *.:1 -. ii,, jum ping off
.- 1' i .l : I.. ,_ i r. *:, .i ,:*. _i-- 1 cks of them
)stwelcome would alight upon the walls of the fort, especially
funds of during storms, evidently thoroughly tired; but
te rich bell the next day they were up and away off over the
first; other great stretch of the Gulf and the Caribbean Sea.
d regularly Numbers of the English birds and many from
veral years Northern Europe make yearly voyages down into
with but a the African continent, and careful observers state
four hours. that they have seen the great storks, so common
ng of their in Germany, moving along high in the air, bear-
i of winter; ing on their broad backs numbers of small birds
that seems that had taken free -passage, or were, perhaps,
e birds, it is stealing a ride. In these wonderful migrations
many birds are blown out to sea and lost, while
sand miles others become so fatigued and worn out that they
er Florida, will alight upon boats. A New England fisherman,
er, but over who in the autumn follows his calling fourteen or
eat summer fifteen miles out from shore, informed me that
, returning nearly every day he had four or five small birds as
to the ex- companions. Theyhad wanderedoff fromshore, or
w the small were flying across the great bay on the lower coast
comprehen- of Maine, and had dropped down to rest. One
11 feathered day the same fisherman fell asleep while holding
wo hundred his line, and upon suddenly opening his eyes,


360


[MARCH,


Z-,


I


.. .:


I .








BLOWN OUT TO SEA.


there sat a little bird on his hand, demurely cock-
ing its head this way and that, as if wondering
whether he was an old wreck or piece of drift-wood.
Thus it will be seen that birds are obliged to adopt
all kinds of expedients and to form strange friend-
ships at such times.
Many of my readers who visit the sea-shore in
the summer months are familiar with the great,
round, glassy jelly-fishes that are washed up on
the beach, the tentacles of some of which are
painful stingers. During July particularly they are
common, and a glance down into the clear blue
water will always be repaid by the sight of one or
more moving meteor-like along. The jelly-fish or-
dinarily to be met with is as large as a dinner-plate,
with fantastic pink and white streamers ten or
twelve feet long; but, as in most other families,


While the disk of the ordinary jelly-fish is as
large as a dinner-plate, that of the giant jelly-fish
is seven or eight feet across, and of a consistency
firm enough to stop a boat. From beneath the
disk curtains of jelly appear to hang, and from
among them extends away a mass of fantastic and
many-hued streamers, perhaps two hundred feet,
so that the enormous creature resembles at night
a great comet in the sea. Its folds, margin, and ten-
tacles gleam with phosphorescent light that streams
from it like a halo, and, as it moves laboriously
along by the rising and falling of its disk, the tenta-
cles streaming behind, it might almost be mistaken
for the reflection of some flaming meteor in the sky.
Very often these great jelly-fishes lie at the surface
of the ocean, with their upper portion exposed and
the tentacles streaming below to attract some vic-


- -- S


,,.,,J I I





-' I
-- i,
'' --- ,. .-..-.y ,'- --
S' :" ^nrf ^"',, ii' 11 ,11^ l -

3k ,"iB. ,'" B -A-- -'-"- . : "". '._'^^flB-,. "-~ --



'S W S .K_ - ". : ' o --': -- _
- -- ". "' h .t

=----_- -:q. .---- '" --f 'U ,,* ...

." ^ / '-"=_ -. 1 *"
Mir,


_7j~


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-77


All.






FLAMINGO RESTING ON THE OF A SEA-TUTLE.
FLAMINGO I1ESTING ON THI2 BACth OF A SEA-'X RTLI.


there are giant jelly-fishes-such huge fellows,
that their comrades and relations seem entirely
dwarfed by them. Such a jelly-fish is the Arctic
Cyanea, or Cyanea Arctica, which, though com-
mon in northern waters, is also occasionally found
off the Massachusetts coast.
VOL. XI.-24.


tim. Such a one was seen off the New England
coast. From the deck of the vessel the observers
saw several birds hovering in the air, then alight-
ing evidently on the water. There was but little
wind, and as they slowly drew near they found a
huge jelly-fish floating at the surface, perhaps


ji~i~
s.









BLOWN OUT TO SEA. [MARCH,


asleep, while on its broad back a number of sand-
pipers were running about, now leaping into the air
as a wave struck them, then dropping upon their
strange resting-place, and pecking at it, as if under
the im press".., t' i. th:. :. : .i .1 'i'- l
In this, how :.. t:i. .. .I .. I :*
without a se.:.i:.,-,. v .i i i I: .r i: k : .ink
beneath the ;,.,t"l.:-. -.-: t iih. li l- i.- -
ceived a du..I:m. .1 I.. : ii .
ing, but in In..iir.- r -: '
aw ay over t.- '* '...t. t-. -,- -'. I
very breasts a ..-i !' 1 .
T he obligin -.i.:! ,-6lh i. .b .l I.: h ..


pe
ha

nu
th
in
to
se
Pr
w]
Pu
m
ra

pe
wt
or
ta
d(
th
se
ai
an
th


Birds frequently make similar use of the great
Orthagoriscus, or Sunfish, found along our coast.
This fish in appearance is almost round, the tail
apparently a part of the solid body, while
:. i'r.., -1..:. ,: .... i-.elow extend two long
hr '.i -.. : r.i ure would necessarily
I. -,r .... : ,-1 ir:, .:er, and so slow and
i. I.r-: i:. i-. .r i have seen aboat pull
Ipi i TI r! .,- ...ling to and fro in the
.- ii... ri.. fisherman deliberately
Lhiu: !,I- -1 ITro the fish's mouth.
'I ii' .-.. I .-.. .. awoke, and made as
S'~~ :ir.l.: rI, hr as any fish weighing
i- l 1..i..,-l pounds or more could,
-, uTi i... Aid hauling, and grind-


'I i.. rful fins against the
I. -' 'dl dory in a manner
that threaten-
S. ed the planks;
-- -- -- :- -- but it was soon
-mastered and
S- l draggedin. In the
SMediterranean, ac-
Sa~ : . rdi ng to some naturalists,
Sa h,, re called moon-fishes,
-_ .-_ o. t,, i r wonderful luminos-
s. T- h-u. es... e- li -.-, gleam and glow in
So-.. --t t s, i i: .. the full moon; and,
. "-..:.r i .., a- r is scintillate like silver
S I i irel-t ,I -.e covered by a thick
e ,- u :c ..ui :, i,..r ... I I is not at all improb-
e .e. p te . e:.l ,...~.t of the most wonder-
i. ai t .l ib,..ri- I_. -.-. t the sea. The skin, or
cked too ..r., .. ...sed-, ,-, ,e,.a i i-.ti ri. l t e -, a1 it ,I .) a curious use by the
Id suddenly sunk, turned, and moved away. children of the Maine fishermen, who cut
In the same waters was formerly found in great pieces of the pure white gristle, and, winding
mbers a great shark called, among many names, them with cord, find the balls thus made excellent
e bakerr" from its habit of apparently sleep- substitutes for rubber balls, as they bound and re-
g on the water, its back and dorsal fin exposed bounriL when thrown upon the ground.
the sun. Two hundred years ago, vessels were The great fin of the sunfish, resembling so
nt out from various ports in Maine, and from much a piece of broken spar, is always spied by a
rovincetown, to capture these sharks, as they did tired or lazy bird, which quickly settles upon it, if
whales, for their oil, and so closely were the sharks the sea is quiet, and the fish not rolling. A few
irsued, that their numbers became more and years ago, I was present when one of the largest
ore reduced until now they are comparatively of these fishes ever observed was captured, at the
re except near Iceland. mouth of the St. John's River. The bar across
While lying asleep, or basking, the basker's up- the mouth of the river is less than ten feet in
er fin was often used as a rest by various birds, depth at low tide, and, in trying to swim in, the
ho probably mistook the sleeping shark for a log great fish fairly ran aground. The boats put
an old piece of wreck, and so did not hesitate to out, and, by means of harpoons and ropes, it
ke possession, arranging themselves along the was finally secured and carried up the river.
orsal fin, where they were perhaps soothed by When'mounted and upright, it measured nearly
.e gentle rolling of the great fish; at least, they twelve feet from the tip of one fin to that of the
emed to enjoy it, and presented a curious appear- other.
nce. Others stood upon its back, leaping here On the Gulf side of Florida, especially down
nd there to avoid the waves that rolled against among the coral reefs and keys that grow out from
ie living islet. the great peninsula, the loggerhead and green


BLOWN OUT TO SEA.


[MARCH,







x88ss BLOWN OUT TO SEA. 363






















BIRDS ALIGHTING UPON A BASKETR SHARK."
turtles are very common, and their capture forms
a large business among the inhabitants of the
various keys. A not uncommon visitor is the
great leather turtle, that often weighs fifteen
S hundred pounds. In their movements the log-
..". ` ger-head and leather turtle are much like the
S.-. sunfish, being extremely heavy and slow. When
-A ... not alarmed, they move along with great deliber-
action, and often evidently fall asleep, lying upon
... the surface, their backs presenting a resting-place
I'' '''.1 *' to any tired bird that may come along.
-...-:-0'-.--""- s Once, during a heavy gale from the east, a party
-' 1 ._ '_ ',, g':-a -.. '2 of spongers in an open boat were driven off shore,
.. ,. ..t.. ...ereh b pnand so fierce was the hurricane that their only
., hope was to keep the boat before the wind and
..run out into the Gulf. For four or five hours the
headlong race was kept up; but finally the wind
S ,, abated, and by early morning the sea was as
'"'' ''' smooth as glass, a peculiarity often noticed there
After a gale. They had been carried far out of
sight of land, and were well-nigh worn out, when
"one of the spongers exclaimed that th'e were near-
.-.' '.' '', ., "ing shore, and soon the entire party saw a familiar
Sight that seemed to signify a reef-a flamingo
"" i I standing motionless in the water. As the boat drew
near, the bird raised its graceful neck, straight-
Sened up, and stretched its wings as if to fly;
I then, seeing that they were not going to molest it,
'i ii it resumed its position of security. To their aston-
'. ishment, the men soon perceived that, instead of
.i resting on a reef, the bird had alighted on a huge
S. leather turtle that was fast asleep upon the water.
Indeed, the flamingo was in distress, like them-
.. selves, having been blown off shore by the same

SANDPIPERS ALIGHTING JPON A GIANT JELLY-FISH. sleeping turtle. The men did not attempt to dis-







BLOWN OUT


turb it, and their last view as they pulled away to
the east was of the flamingo attempting to lift one
leg and go to sleep, an act which the undulating
motion of the floating turtle rendered well-nigh
impossible.
Birds have been seen to alight upon the back of a
whale in northern waters when it was moving along
at the surface, probably for the purpose of feeding
upon the innumerable barnacles and crustaceans
that often completely cover these great creatures.
And seals and walruses are in like manner fre-
quently made the bearers of feathered passengers.
It is seldom, however, that birds will venture to
retain their position upon moving animals. But
such an instance, and a remarkable one, has been
observed at the Galapagos Islands, where nearly all
the animals, birds, and reptiles are characteristic
or peculiar to the Archipelago. Besides the great
turtles that live here among the lava beds, feed-
ing upon the cactus, are two species of lizards
about four feet long. One lives on land, while
the other is adapted for a life on the ocean, swim-
ming out to sea in droves. The naturalists' name
for the marine lizard is Amblyrhynchus cristatus.
It is a dark-colored long reptile, with sharp ser-
rations, or spines, extending the entire length of its
back, and it lives among the sea-weed and in the
crevices of the rocks facing the water on Albemarle
Island. Individual specimens have been known to
attain a length of nearly five feet. Their tails are


flattened like those of the sea-snakes of the China
Sea, and all four feet are partly webbed, so that
they are perfectly adapted for their marine life.
They dive with great ease; not to obtain fish, as
might be supposed, but sea-weed (Ulvce), for which
they descend to the bottom, tearing it off with
their teeth; and often, while swimming under
water, they will crawl along the bottom with all
the ease of a crab. Indeed, one has frequently
been forcibly kept an hour under water without
any sign of discomfort. In their excursions to sea,
the lizards encounter several enemies,--one, the
shark, that does not hesitate to seize them; and
another, a gull, that hovers about them in evident
malicious enjoyment. As soon as the lizards leave
shore, the gulls, if they are about, join in the ex-
pedition, fluttering about the great reptiles and
uttering piercing cries, as if to call them back or
urge them on. Finally, a gull alights on the head
of one helpless animal, which, by diving, eludes its
tormentor for a moment; but as soon as it comes up,
the watchful bird is hovering close by, and again
alights on the rough head, perhaps to see if a fish
or a crab has been brought up and can be stolen.
Be that as it may, the gull utilizes the lizard as a
roost, just as the birds use the basking-shark and
the turtle, only it secures a ride in addition.
Many other similar companionships are to be
found among the lower animals, but the instances
here cited are especially remarkable.


SN _


364


TO SEA.


[MARCH,







DOCTOR SOPHIA EDITH'S OFFICE-GIRL.


DOCTOR SOPHIA EDITH'S OFFICE-GIRL.

BY HENRY LEWIS.


A LONG, narrow street; on one side, the high
wall of a half-forgotten grave-yard, on the other,
a row of dilapidated houses, and beyond the sea.
There were various names for this alley. A roman-
tic party driving through it one sunny morning
called it Europe," because the crowded houses
and graystone wall, the dirt and the picturesque-
ness, brought back to them a memory of European
by-ways. The towns-people called it Grave-yard
alley." And Doctor" Mary Conner's professional
card, had she possessed one, would have read thus:






f Xifwmen/ cS~ee


" Monument" street, you observe,-still suggest-
ive of the locality, but not so dismal in language
as Grave-yard alley.
There was nothing dismal, however, about the
grave-yard. It lay in an open, sunny inclosure,
where daisies and buttercups nodded through the
summer till the golden-rod and asters came crowd-
ing in later. All the people buried there had fallen
asleep years and years before; only living people
came now, generally strangers summer travel-
ers, who brushed back the tangled grasses from
the quaint inscriptions, or looked over the unsight-
liness of Monument street to the sea and the ships
coming up the harbor.
Monument street, was there, however, if nobody
noticed it; and Monument street was wretchedly
poor and ignorant. There were a number of
people in the town from whom it might reason-
ably have expected a helping hand. There was
the Sunday-school of St. Mark's Church close by;
there was the City Missionary, and the Society for
Associated Charities. But the first person who
attempted to raise Monument street from its ig-
norance was Mary Conner, aged fourteen, pos-
sessor of a discouraged blue hood and a pair of
brave blue eyes.
Mary Conner was the oldest inhabitant" of
the street, the inhabitants having a restless way of
moving in and out at convenience (generally
" out," in the night, with the rent unpaid).
Pat Conner was the single exception to prove


this rule. In the midst of the floating population,
he alone remained stationary, and for fifteen years
had regularly paid his seven dollars a month for
the rooms over the corner grocery. The corner
grocery was the spot where local news was collected
and diffused. It represented Monument street's
club-house and sewing-circle; and among the
onions, laundry soap, clay pipes, and bacon, it was
announced, one November morning, that Pat
Conner's Mary has got a place up-town with some
kind of a doctor woman."
It was soon known, therefore, throughout the
length of Monument street, that Mary Conner
had become Dr. Sophia Edith's office-girl. The
corner grocery was fond of a pleasant joke, and
soon began to call the child "Doctor," first in
playfulness, and lastly as a convenience to dis-
tinguish her from another Mary Conner in the
same house. And Mary liked the title. She
knew it was only a nickname, but nevertheless it
had a meaning and a pleasant sound to her, and
she grew more and more fond of being called
" Doctor Mary, as the days went by.
And it was not strange that six months of
answering Doctor Sophia Edith's office-bell, six
months of carrying notes and of waiting on aris-
tocratic patients, should have had its influence on
Mary Conner's mind. When the discouraged blue
hood gave way to a neat spring hat, the brave
eyes had gained an ambitious look,-a desire to
rise and be somebody; in other words, to follow
as closely as possible in the footsteps of Doctor
Sophia Edith, whom the child considered perfect
in mind, manners, and methods. The only place
for Mary to shine in was the alley, and the question
in her mind was, how much shining and of what
kind the alley would bear. Doctor Sophia Edith
had patients and gave lectures, and helped people
who had got past helping themselves. Mary
longed also to have patients, and give lectures, and
help people. To be sure, Monument street pa-
tients would pay nothing; it was barely possible
the lectures would be unappreciated and unat-
tended ; but nevertheless Mary began her prepa-
rations. She listened outside the door on the
doctor's lecture mornings, and "read up" such
diseases as the mumps and the measles.
Sixteen beautiful young ladies came to Doctor
Sophia Edith's physiology class every Thursday
morning at ten. Doctor Sophia Edith talked to
them about nerves and muscles, and they talked


365







DOCTOR SOPHIA EDITH'S OFFICE-GIRL.


to one another, after each lecture, about the last
charity ball, and of having a large tintype taken
of the class as soon as the course of lectures was
finished. Of course, Mary could hope for no audi-
ence like this. It would be an impossibility for
Monument street to come in seal-skin jackets, pro-
tected by silk umbrellas; and as for the tintype,
Mary repressed a giggle at the thought of Monu-
ment street grouped in a picture. The child took
her notes on. scraps of brown wrapping-paper;
the sixteen beautiful young ladies took theirs in
russia-leather note-books. Aside from the ma-
terials used (and Mary's spelling, which was, of
course, uncertain, at times), the notes were much
alike. But Mary grew absent-minded and forget-
ful. The doctor, who never went out without
charging her to write down every message or call,
was one day met at the door with this list:

Miss Gibs tellufoned. Wants another box of those pills. Said
you 'd know what kind.
Woman called. Didentleave any name. Wanted to know if you
charged just as much as the other doctors.
Miss Broun called and left her love.
Minuster called. Said he hopd youd take a class in Sunday-
skool.
Gess I 'd better give my leckchur after Mikel Kelly moves
away. He 's allus shure to make a row.
Somebody tellufoned from the Orfun 'Sylum-wants you to
come right out.

This last was urgent, and Doctor Sophia Edith
hurried away without any comments on Michael
Kelly, thereby giving Mary an opportunity to
abstract her private note from the list.

IT was a May evening at the corner grocery.
Pat Conner's Mary was again the subject of
discussion.
She 's a-goin' to tell us how to be a doctor-
goin' to give us a whole lot of reseets an' resipes,"
came from behind the laundry soap and bacon.
She are n't, either," shouted a woman at the
door. She 's a-goin' to improvee our c'ndishun;
heard her say so myself."
"No such thing," interrupted Mr. Michael
Kelly, who had disappointed Mary's hopes by not
moving. She says to me, this morning very
perlite, Mr. Kelly,' says she, I'm a-goin' to give
a little talk on health says she; and thereupon
she invited me, because she wanted a gintleman
to kape order and make things pleasant-like."
Pat Conner lent his front-room, and the street
generally sent in chairs. Mary had arranged a
small table, as much like Doctor Sophia Edith's as
possible, with a bunch of early violets in a cracked
match-safe, a glass of water, and a model of the
human eye, which Mary had taken the liberty of


keeping over night, instead of carrying it directly
from Doctor Sophia's to the oculist's. She had
her brown-paper notes on the table, and on the
landing, just outside the door, sat one very sym-
pathetic listener-the little lame girl Polly, who
believed in "Doctor" Mary Conner as firmly as
Mary Conner believed in Doctor Sophia Edith. If
Polly had been born in a higher station, she would
have been called a child full of poetry and graceful
fancies. As it was, the alley jeered at her and
called her "foolish Polly."
The audience was very mixed in color and
nationality. There was one unpleasant-looking
man, said to have "seven-years' consumption,"
and a troublesome woman who insisted that Mary
should leave her lecture and go down-stairs to
look at Mrs. Jim Murphy's sick hen. This de-
mand was settled by the hen's coming up the stairs,
of her own accord, in apparently good condition.
Mary had thought of calling her talk "A Glimpse
of Physiology." She had even written down as her
opening sentence these words:
Such as are your habichual thoughts, such is
the charukter of your minds." She glanced from
the notes to the faces before her and lost courage.
The room swam a little. Michael Kelly at the door
was getting ready to say something funny. It was
a desperate moment. Her eyes fell on the violets.
The violets carried her back to Doctor Sophia
Edith, and she remembered having heard the doc-
tor say that nothing awed ignorance so much as
knowledge. With a hasty sip from the glass, she
took up her notes and said bravely, I begin my
talk on physi-o-l-o-g-y by sayin' that such as
are your ha.bich-u-al thoughts, such is the char-
-uk-ter of your minds."
"Good land!" ejaculated old Mrs. :.Iull,.11.,
who washed for the gentry, and was therefore not
quite so much crushed as the- others.
Mary continued-" The best econ-um-y of time
is to be out in the open air. Therefore, my dear
friends, you who are industrious and work in the
open air are making the best econ-um-y of your
time."
And how about the men as works in the
drains, 'Doctor'?"-interrupted old Mrs. Mulligan
-"under the ground -a-takin' in all the bad air?
Mary Conner-go along with your econ-
um-y "
Mary went along,-hastily and disconnectedly:
For consumption, take a great deal of horse-
back riding."
The man with the "seven-years' consumption "
coughed, and Michael Kelly rose to ask if Doc-
tor" Mary Conner expected them to buy a horse
for old Father Cary', as has jest coughed so
bad-like, and if she would please to tell them what


366


[MARCH,






DOCTOR SOPHIA EDITH'S OFFICE-GIRL.


that round glass thing on the table was." Mary
drew the eye-model into a safer position, and taking
up her notes, said, First let me tell you that we all
live in a bird-cage-yes, a bird-cage," continued
Mary, the audience objecting. The ribs which
inclose the heart and lungs maybe called a cage."


becoming a dangerous rival, with his beautiful
ideas. She hurried on; "In our heads is the
brain -it is also a telegraph office, and sends mes-
sages to all parts of the body "; here Jimmy Dona-
hue opened his eyes. He was a messenger-boy at
the Western Union. "We think with our brains,"


- .1
.1


4- .- 4
*8


*. .11': -
.1


"DOCTOR" MARY CONNER GIVES A LECTURE BEFORE THE RESIDENTS OF MONUMENT STREET.


Indade said Michael.
This cage contains ourselves "
"And we are the canary-burrds," explained
Michael, who had risen again to his feet and was
being violently pulled down by his sister-in-law.
"Yis," said Michael, "and whin we die, the
canary-burrd flies out uv the caige."
Mary's cheeks grew a little flushed. Michael was


continued Doctor" Mary, "we eat with our
mouths, we swallow with our necks, and our
hearts beat in our wrists and keep us alive."
"All fale of your wrists, ladies, and gintlemuns"
- requested Michael, blandly. This request, being
universally complied with, made an interruption, of
course; and "Doctor" Mary, taking up the glass
eye carefully, said, leaning forward as if to com-


i884.]


367


I''.







DOCTOR SOPHIA EDITH'S OFFICE-GIRL.


municate something of great importance: "First,
let me tell you that there:is a drop of oil in the knee
which keeps it from growing stiff. So, if: you have
a stiff knee, it would be well to oil it on the out-
side."
With karosine? asked Michael.
"Yes," said Mary, though she did not feel at
all sure, and in order to prevent any further ques-
tioning, she added instantly: Now I will show
you this beautiful glass eye." The whole audience
made a snatching movement forward. Mary mo-
tioned them back. This eye," she said, which
is just like our own eyes, is worth dollars an' dollars.
It belongs to a friend of Doctor Sophia Edith.
If you break it, we'll all be sent to jail. While
you 're looking' at it, I will recite a beautiful piece
of poetry."
Mary had a clear, sweet voice. As the eye was
passed around, and Mary began her recitation, the
noisy room grew quiet, like a child made happy
with a new toy, and calmed by the pleasant sound
of some nursery hymn.
She had spoken but two lines, however,

"Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream,"-

when Doctor Sophia Edith herself came up the
narrow stair-way in search of Mary and the eye,
the oculist having sent to her for it an hour before.
Doctor Sophia Edith wore a gray bonnet, and a
black jacket bordered with soft, gray fur. She
was righteously angry in her thoughts with Mary,
and generally disheartened, for the day had been
a trying one. But on the stairs, close by the door,
sat little Polly, who smiled a welcome, and said,
with unexpected friendliness, as she touched the
gray fur of the Doctor's cloak: "Come in, Dr.
Pussy Willow. Mary would n't ask you to her
lecture, 'cause she said you had n't time, and you
would n't think she knew anything."
Through the crack in the door-way, at the mo-
merit, came a familiar voice-

Be not like dumb, driven cattle,-
Be a hero in the strife!"--

And, peeking through, the doctor saw at the end
of the room, amid clouds of tobacco smoke, Mary,
her office-girl, standing on a chair and gesticulating.
She noticed, too, that something was being
passed around, but she could not get a sight of
the object itself. A woman's voice said:


"And it 's no wonder it hurts when it 's hit;
sure-it is as delicate as a chiny closet."
It: has been a beautiful lecture," sighed Polly
contentedly, as the Doctor glanced down at her.
I call you 'Pussy Willow' 'cause you wear soft,
gray things. Mary told me.about them. I saw
some real pussy willows once." The child was
stroking the fur trimming. Your clothes are like
a pussy willow; but your face is like a Mayflower,"
she added.
Doctor Sophia Edith for a moment forgot her
errand. Novel experiences were frequent in her
profession; but this was the cream of novelties-
to be called a Pussy Willow and a Mayflower all
in one breath, and down in the depth of Grave-
yard alley," where she heard her small office-girl
calmly and sweetly repeating over the heads of
these poor ignorant and miserable people,

Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime."

Dr. Sparrow's delicate model of the human eye
came in safety to Michael Kelly, and he, having
spied Dr. Sophia Edith through the crack, softly
slipped the model out to her at arms-length, and
said:
May be ye 'd like to look at it, Marm. But be
very keerful; fer, ef you drop it, there '11 be the
perlice upon us."
Doctor Sophia Edith whispered a word to Polly;
slipped the eye into her pocket, and escaped. Down
the stairs floated after her,

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate,"-

interrupted by Michael's shouting jubilantly, I
say, 'Doctor' Mary Conner, there 's a woman 's
run off with your eye! "

Mary went through her office-work next day
like a person awaiting dismissal and disgrace. She
did not know that Doctor Sophia Edith had a
great love of poetry and a sincere appreciation
for any attempt at scattering scientific knowl-
edge. This love and appreciation were to out-
weigh a just displeasure. When Mary came in at
night for her sentence, the doctor taking a bunch
of Mayflowers from the table, said quietly:
Mary, I expect you to be more faithful in the
future, and you can take these flowers to the little
lame girl, Polly."


368


[MARCH,







1884.1 WHOSE SCISSORS DID IT? 369


THE WEARY PAGE.


WHOSE SCISSORS DID .IT?

BY BESSIE CHANDLER.

'T WAS winter, and gay Jack Frost had flung
His sparkling jewels on the fields of snow,-
While over the way his icicles hung.
From the edge of the roof, in an even row.

My little girl looked across the way,
At the frozen fringe which was hanging there;
And then in soft tones I heard her say:
" I wonder who banged that house's hair?"












THE COAST-GUARD.

BY EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER.

Do YOU wonder what I am seeing,
In the heart of the fire, aglow
Like cliffs in a golden sunset,
With a summer sea below?
I see, away to the eastward,
The line of a storm-beat coast,
And I hear the tread of the hurrying
waves
Like the tramp of a mailed host.

And up and down in the darkness,
And over the frozen sand,
I hear the men of the coast-guard
Pacing along the strand.
Beaten by storm and tempest,
And drenched by the pelting rain,
From the shores of Carolina,
To the wind-swept bays of Maine.

No matter what storms are raging,
No matter how wild the night,
The gleam of their swinging lanterns
Shines out with a friendly light.
And many a shipwrecked sailor
Thanks God, with his gasping
breath,
For the sturdy arms of the surfmen
That drew him away from death.

And so, when the wind is wailing,
And the air grows dim with sleet,
I think of the fearless watchers .:
Pacing along their beat.
I think of a wreck, fast breaking
In the surf of a rocky shore,
And the life-boat leaping onward--
To the stroke of the bending oar.

I hear the shouts of the sailors, Courage !" the captain trumpets,
The boom of the frozen sail, They are sending help from land!"
And the creak of the icy halyards God bless the men of the coast-guard,
Straining against the gale. And hold their lives in His hand!


370


[MARCH,


THE COAST-GUARD.







THE LAND OF FIRE.


THE LAND OF FIRE.
A Tale of Adventure in Tierra del Fuego.

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.


CHAPTER XII.
A CATASTROPHE NOT ANTICIPATED.
ANOTHER day dawns upon the castaways, with
again a bright glow showing in the sky; and Ned
Gancy and Henry Chester, who have risen early,
as they look out over the water, become witnesses
of the curious behavior of another Fuegian fishing-
bird- the cormorant.
One of these birds, seemingly regardless of their
presence, has come close to the ledge where the
boat is lying, and has there caught a fish. But
instead of gobbling it up or tearing it to pieces,
as might be expected, the captor lets it go again,
not involuntarily, but, as soon appears, designedly.
The fish, alive and apparently uninjured, makes
away through the water; but only for a short dis-
tance, ere it is followed by the cormorant and
caught afresh. Then it is dropped a second time,
and a third time seized; and so on through a series
of catching and surrendering, just like those of
a cat playing with a mouse !
In this case, however, the cruel sport has a
different termination, by the cormorant being de-
priv'ed of the prey it seemed so sure of. Not
through the efforts of the fish itself, which now,
badly damaged, swims but feebly; nor do the gulls
appropriate it, but a wingless biped-no other
than Ned Gancy. Chester, we shall have that
fish for breakfast," he says, springing to his feet,
and hastily stripping for a swim. Then, with a
rush over the ledge, he plunges in, sending the
cormorant off in affright, and taking possession of
the prey it has left behind.
The fish proves to be a species of smelt, over
two pounds in weight, and a welcome addition
to their now greatly reduced larder.
As they have passed a restful night, all the
members of the forlorn little party are up betimes;
and soon the doctor is bestirring himself about
their breakfast, in which the cormorant-caught
fish is to play a conspicuous part.
The uprising sun reveals the landscape in a
changed aspect, quite different from that seen at
its setting, and even-more surprisingly picturesque.
The snowy mantle of Mount Darwin is no longer
pure white, but of hues more attractive -a com-
mingling of rose and gold- while the icicled cliffs
on the opposite side of the cove, with the facades


of the glaciers, show every tint of blue from pale
sky to deep beryl, darkening to indigo and purple
in the deep sea-water at their bases. It is, or might
be called, the iridescence of a land with rocks all
opals and trees all evergreens; for the dullest
verdure here seems vivid by contrast with its icy
and snowy surroundings.
Oh, Mamma is n't it glorious ?" exclaims
Leoline, as she looks around upon the wonderful
landscape. "It beats Niagara! If I only had
my box of colors, I 'd make a sketch of it."
To this burst of enthusiastic admiration, the
mother responds with but a faint smile. The late
danger, from which they have had such a narrow
escape, still gravely affects her spirits; and she
dreads its recurrence, despite all assurances to the
contrary. For she knows they are but founded on
hope, and that there may be other tribes of cruel
and hostile savages to be encountered. Even
Seagriff still appears apprehensive, else why
should he be looking so anxiously out over the
water? Seated on the trunk of a fallen tree, pipe
in mouth, he sends up wreathing curls of smoke
among the branches of the winter's-bark over-
head. But he is not smoking tranquilly, as is his
wont; but in short, quick puffs, while the expres-
sion on his features, habitually firm, tells of
troubled thought.
"What are you gazing at, Chips? questions
Captain Gancy, who has noticed his uneasy look.
At that glasheer, Captin'. The big un derect
in front of us."
"Well, what of it? "
'Pears to me it bulges out beyond the line o'
the clif more 'n we mout like it to. Please let me
have a squint at it through the glass. My eyes aren't
wuth much agin the dazzle o' that ice an' snow."
"By all means. Take the glass, if that will
help you," says the Captain, handing him the
binocular, but secretly wondering why he wishes to
examine the glacier so minutely. The Captain can
not understand what there is in the blue and frozen
mass to be troubled about. But nothing further is
said, he and all the rest remaining silent, so as
not to interfere with Seagriff's observation. Not
without apprehension, however, do they await the
result, as the old sealer's words and manner in-
dicate plainly that something is amiss. And their
waiting is for a short while only. Almost on the


1884.]







THE LAND OF FIRE.


instant of getting the glacier within his field of
view, Seagriff cries out:
Jest as I surspected The bend o' the ice air
'way out from the rocks, ten or fifteen fathoms, I
should say!"
Well, and if it is," rejoins the skipper, what
does that signify to us ? "
A mighty deal, Captin'. Thet air, surposin'
it should snap off jest now. An' sech a thing
would n't be unusual. I wonder we have 'nt seed
the like afore now, running' past so many glasheers
ez we hev. Cewrus, too, our not coming' acrost a
berg yet. I guess the ice 's not melted sufficient
for 'em to break away."
But now an appetizing odor, more agreeable to
their nostrils than the perfume of the fuchsias, or
the aromatic fragrance of the winter's-bark, ad-
monishes them of breakfast being served; the
doctor likewise soon proclaiming it. And so for a
time the glacier is forgotten.
But after the meal has been dispatched, the
glacier again becomes the subject of discourse,
as the old sealer once more begins to regard it
through the glass with evident apprehension.
It 'ud seem beyond the possibility of belief,"
he says, "thet them conglomerations uv ice, hard
froze an' looking' ez tight fixed ez a main-stay, for
all thet, hev a downward slitherin' motion, jest like a
stream o' water, tho' in coorse thousands, or mill-
ions o' times slower."
Oh I that 's well understood," asserts the skip-
per, acquainted with the latest theory of glacier
movement.
So it may be, Captin'," pursues Seagriff;
"but thar 's something' 'bout these breaking' off an'
becoming' bergs ez aint so well understood, I reck-
in'; leastways not by learned men. An' the cause
of it air well enough know'd 'mong the seal-fishers
ez frequent these soun's an' channels."
"What is the cause, Chips?" asked young
Gancy, like all the others, interested in the subject
of conversation.
"Wall, it 's this, Mister Ned. The sea-water
bein' warmer than the ice, melts the glasheer when
thar 's high tide, an' the eend of it dips under;
then at low tide,-bein', so to speak, undermined,
an' not havin' the water to rest on,-it naturally
sags down by its own weight, an' snaps off, ez ye '11
all easily understand. "
"Oh! we quite understand," is the universal
response, every one satisfied with the old sealer's
explanation as to the origin of icebergs.
"How I should like to see one launched, ex-
claims Leoline, that big one over there, for in-
stance. It would make such a big plunge!
Would n't it, Mr. Chips ? "
Yes, Miss, sech a plunge thet ef this child tho't


thar was any likelihood of it coming' loose from its
moorin's, while we're hyar, he would n't be smok-
in' his pipe so contented. Jest look at thet boat! "
The boat what of her? asks the skipper, in
some apprehension, at length beginning to com-
prehend the cause of Seagriff's uneasiness.
"Wall, Captin', ef yon glasheer war to give off a
berg, any sort of a big un, it mout be the means o'
leaving' us withoutt any boat at all."
But how? "
"How? Why, by swampin', or smashin' the
only one we 've got, the which- Thunder an'
airthquakes! See yonner! The very thing we 're
talking' 'bout, I vow! "
No need for him to explain his words and excited
exclamations. All know what has called them
forth; the berg is snapping off. All see the break-
ing up and hear the crash, loud as the discharge
of a ship's broadside or a peal of thunder, till at
length, though tardily, they comprehend the dan-
ger, as their eyes rest on a stupendous roller, as
high as any sea the Calypso had ever encountered,
coming toward them across the strait.
"To the boat shouts Seagriff, making down
the bank, .with all the men after him. They reach
the landing before the roller breaks upon it; but
alas to no purpose. Beach, to draw the boat up
on, there is none; only the rough ledge of rocks,
and the only way to raise it on this would be to
lift it bodily out of the water, which can not be
done. For all that-they clutch hold of it, with
determined grip, around the edge of the bow. But
their united strength will prove as nothing against
that threatening swell. For the roller, entering the
confined water of the cove, has increased in height,
and comes on with more tempestuous surge.
Their effort proves futile, and nigh worse than
futile to Henry Chester. For, as the boat is whisked
out of their hands and swung up fathoms high, the
English youth, heedless of Seagriff's shout "let
go! hangs on, bull-dog-like, and is carried up
along with her!
The others have retreated up the slope, beyond
reach of the wave which threatens to bear him off
in its backward flow. Seeing his danger, all cry
out in alarm; and the voice of Leoline is heard
above, crying out to her mother:
"Oh Henry is lost."
But no, Henry is not lost. Letting go before
the boat comes down again, with a vigorous bound
backward the agile youth heads the roller, get-
ting well up the bank ere it washes over him.
Wash over him it does, but only drenches him; for
he has flung his arms around a barberry bush and
holds it in firm embrace; so firm and fast that,
when the water has surged back, he is still seen
clinging to it-safe! But by the same subsidence


372


[MARCH,







THE LAND OF FIRE.


the boat is dashed away, the keel striking on some
rocks with a harsh sound, which tells of damage,
if not total destruction. Still, it floats, drifting
outward, and for awhile all seems well with it.
Believing it to be so, the two youths rush to the
tent, and each snatching an oar from it, prepare
to swim out and bring the boat back. But before
they can enter the water, a voice tells them their


Ii- 'l
bouLLul, and is guing
down. Look!"
They do look, and they ,.
see that the boat is doomed.
Only for an instant are their eyes upon it, before
it is seen no more, having "bilged" and gone
under, leaving but bubbles to mark the place of
its disappearance.


CHAPTER XIII.

A CHANGE OF QUARTERS DETERMINED ON.

No GREATER calamity than the loss of their boat
could have overtaken the castaways, save losing


life itself. It has made them castaways in the full-
est sense of the word; almost as if left boatless
on a desert isle in mid-ocean. Their situation is
desperate, indeed, though for a time they scarce
realize it. How can they, in so lovely a spot,
teeming with animal life, and Nature, as it were,
smiling around them ? But the old sealer knows
all that will soon be changed, experience remind-
ing him that the brief, bright summer will ere
long be succeeded by dark, dreary winter, with
rain, sleet, and snow almost continuously. Then
no food will be procurable, and to stay where they
are would be to starve. Captain Gancy, also, recalls
the attempts at colonizing Tierra del Fuego; nota-
bly that made by Sarmiento at Port Famine in the
Magellan Straits, where his whole colony, men,
women, and children-nearly three hundred souls
-miserably perished by starvation; and where,
too, the lamented missionary, Gardner, with all his
companions, succumbed to a similar fate.* The
Captain remembers reading, too, that these colo-
nists had at the start ample store of provisions, with
arms and ammunition to defend themselves, and
renew their stores. If they could not maintain life in
Tierra del Fuego, what chance is there for a party
of castaways, without weapons, and otherwise un-
fitted for prolonged sojourn in a savage land?
Even the natives, supplied with perfect imple-
ments for fishery and the chase, and skilled in
their use, have often a hard, and at times an unsuc-
cessful, struggle for existence. 'Darwin thus speaks
of it:
The inhabitants, living chiefly upon shell-fish, are obliged con-
stantly to change their place of residence, but return at intervals to
the same spot. At night, five or six of them, unprotected
from the wind and rain of this tempestuous climate, sleep on the
wet ground, coiled up like animals. Whenever it is low water, they
must rise to pick shell-fish from the rocks, and the women, winter
and summer, either dive to collect sea-eggs, or sit patiently in their
canoes, and with a baited hair line jerk out small fish. If a seal
is killed, or the floating carcass of a dead whale discovered, it is
a feast. Such miserable food is assisted by a few tasteless berries
and fungi. Nor are they exempt from famine, and, as a conse-
quence, cannibalism, accompanied by parricide."

The old seal-fisher, familiar with these facts,
keeps them to himself, though knowing the truth
will in time reveal itself to all. They get an ink-
ling of it that very day, when the doctor," pro-
-ceedinrg to cook dinner, reports upon the state of
the larder, in which there is barely the wherewithal
for another meal. Nearly everything brought away
from the bark was in the gig, and is doubtless in
it still-at the bottom of the sea. So the meal
is eaten in a somewhat despondent mood.
They get into better spirits soon after, however,
on finding that Nature has furnished them with an


SThere is now a colony in the Straits of Magellan, not far from Port Famine, at Sandy Point- the "Punta de Arenas of the old
Spanish navigators. The colony is Chilian, and was established as a penal settlement, though it is now only nominally so. The popu-
lation is about fourteen hundred.








THE LAND OF FIRE. [MARCH,


ample store of provisions for the present, near at
hand. Prospecting among the trees, they discover
an edible fungus, known to sealers as the "beech-
apple," from its being a parasite of the beech. It
is about the size and shape of a small orange, and
is of a bright yellow color. When ripe, it becomes
honey-combed over the surface, and has a slightly
sweetish taste, with an odor somewhat like that of
a mushroom, to which it is allied. It can be eaten
raw, and is so eaten by the Fuegian natives, with
whom, for a portion of the year, it is the staple
article of subsistence.
The castaways find large numbers of this valu-
able plant adhering to the birch-beeches,--more
than enough for present needs; while two species
of fruit are also available as food,- the berries of
the arbutus and barberry.
Still, notwithstanding this plentitude of supply,
the castaways make up their minds to abandon
their present encampment, for a reason that be-
comes apparent, soon after they see themselves
boatless.
"There 's no use in our stayin' longer hyar," says
Seagriff, who first counsels a change of quarters.
" Ef a vessel should chance to pass along outside,
we could n't well be in a worse place fur signalin',
or getting' sighted by, her. We 'd hev but the ghost
of a chance to be spied in sech a sercluded corner.
Ther'fore, we ought to cl'ar out of it, an' camp
somewhar on the edge o' the open water."
"In that I agree with you, Chips," responds
the Captain, and we may as well move at once."
"Thet's true, sir, ef we could move at onct.
But we can't-leastways not to-day."
"Why not? "
It 's too nigh night; we would n't hev time to
git to the outer shore," explained the carpenter.
Why there 's an hour of daylight yet, or
more "
Thet's cl'ar enough, Captin'. But ef thar were
two hours o' daylight, or twice thet, it.would n't
be enough."
I don't understand you, Chips. The distance
can't be more than two or three hundred yards. "
"Belike, it are n't more. But for all that, it '11
take us the half of a day, ef not longer, to cover it."
"How so?" queried the skipper.
"Wal, the how is thet we can't go by the beach ;
thar bein' no beach. At the mouth o' the cove, it's
all cliff, right down to the water. I noticed thet
as we war putting' inter it. Not a strip o' strand at
the bottom broad enough fur a seal to bask on.
We '11 hev to track it up over the hills, an' thet '11
take no end o' time, an' plenty o' toilin', too;-
ye '11 see, Captin'."
I suppose, then, we must wait for morning,"
is the skipper's rejoinder, after becoming satisfied


that no practicable path leads out of the cove,
between land and water.
This constrains them to pass another night on
the spot that has proved so disastrous, and, the
morning after, to eat another meal upon it- the
last they intend tasting there. A meager repast it
is; but their appetites are now on keen edge, all
the keener from their being stinted. For, by one
of nature's perverse contrarieties, men feel hunger
most when without the means of satisfying it; and





















"THE DOCTOR."

most thirsty when no water can be had! It is the
old story of distant skies looking brightest, and
far-off fields showing greenest;-the very difficulty
of obtaining a thing whetting the desire to possess
it, as a child craves some toy, that it soon ceases
to care for when once in its possession.
No such philosophic reflections occupy the
thoughts of the castaways. All they think of,
while at their scanty meal, is to get through with
it as speedily as possible, and away from the scene
of their disaster.
The breakfast over, the tent is taken down;
the boat sail folded into the most portable form,
with mast, oars, and everything made ready for
overland transport. They have even apportioned
the bundles, and are about to begin the up-hill
climb, when, lo the Fuegians


CHAPTER XIV.

A FUEGIAN FISH-HUNT.

YES, the savages are once more in sight,-a
canoe full of them just appearing around the point
of the cliff, closely followed by another, and another,
till four are under view in front of the cove. They


[MARCH,


THE LAND OF FIRE.







THE LAND OF FIRE.


are as yet far out on the sea-arm; but as they
have come along it from the west, the castaways
suppose them to be some of their late assailants,
still persistently continuing the pursuit.
But no! Captain Gancy, quickly sighting through
his binocular, declares them different; at least, in
their array. For they are not all men, more than
half being women and children; while no warlike
insignia can be discerned,-neither white feathers
nor chalked faces.
Seagriff, in turn taking the glass, further makes
out that the men have fish-spears in their hands,
and an implement he recognizes as afizgig, while
the heads of dogs appear over the gunwales of the
canoes, nearly a dozen in each.
"It's a fishing' party," he pronounces. "For
all thet, we 'd best make a hide of it! thar 's no
trustin' 'em, anyway so long as they think they hev
the upper hand. A good thing our fire has gone
out, else they 'd a-spied it afore this. An' lucky
the bushes be in front, or they 'd see us now.
Mebbe they '11 pass on along the arm, an'-
No! they 're turning' in toward the cove!"
This can be told by the apparent shortening of
the canoes, as they are brought head around
toward the inlet.
Followingthe old sealer's advice, earnestly urged,
all slip back among the trees, the low-hanging
branches of which afford a screen for concealment
like a closed curtain. The bundles are taken
along, and the camp-ground is cleared of every-
thing likely to betray its having been lately occu-
pied by white people. All this they are enabled
to do without being seen by the savages, a fringe
of evergreens between the camp-ground and the
water effectually masking their movements.
But should n't we go farther up ?" says the
skipper, interrogating Seagriff. "Why not keep
on over the hill ?"
No, Captin'; we must n't move from hyar.
We could n't, withoutt making' sech a racket ez they'd
be sure to hear. Besides, thar's bare spots above,
whar they mout sight us from out on the water;
an' ef they did, distance would n't sarve us a bit.
The Feweegins kin climb up the steepest places,
like squir'ls up a tree. Once seen by 'em, we 'd
stan' no chance with 'em in a run. Ther'fore,
we'd better abide quietly hyar. Mebbe, arter all,
they may n't come ashore. 'T aint one o' thar
landin'-places, or we 'd 'a' foun' traces of 'em.
The trees would 'a' been barked all about.-Oh,
I see what they 're up to now. A fish-hunt,-a
surround wi' thar dogs. Thet 's thar bizness in
the cove."
By this, the four canoes have arrived at the
entrance to the inlet, and are forming in line across
it at equal distances from one another, as if to bar


the way against anything that may attempt to pass
outward. Just such is their design; the fish being
what they purpose enfilading.
At sight of them and the columns of ascend-
ing smoke, the pelicans and other fishing birds
take flight, in a chorus of screams,-some to
remain soaring overhead, others flying altogether
out of sight. The water is left without a ripple,
and so clear that the spectators on shore, from
their elevated point of view, can see to its bottom,
all around the shore where it is shallow. They
now observe fish of several sorts swimming affright-
edly to and fro ; and see them as plainly as through
the glass walls of an aquarium.
Soon the fish-hunters, having completed their
"cordon" and dropped the dogs overboard, come
on up the cove, the women plying the paddles, the
men with javelins upraised, ready for darting.
The little foxy dogs swim abreast of and between
the canoes, driving the fish before them,-as
sheep-dogs drive sheep,-one or another diving
under at intervals, to intercept such as attempt
to escape outward. For in the translucent water
they can see the fish far ahead, and, trained
to the work, they keep guard against a break from
these through the inclosing line. Soon the fish
are forced up to the inner end of the cove, where
it is shoalest; and then the work of slaughter com-
mences. The dusky fishermen, standing in the
canoes and bending over, now to this side, now that,
plunge down their spears and fizgigs, rarely failing
to bring up a fish of one sort or another ; the strug-
gling victim shaken off into the bottom of the
canoe, there gets its death-blow from the boys.
For nearly an hour the curious aquatic chase is
carried on ; not in silence, but amid a chorus of
deafening noises,-the shouts of the savages and
the barking and yelping of their dogs mingling
with the shrieking of the sea-birds overhead. And
thrice is the cove drawn" by the canoes, which
are taken back to its mouth, the line reformed, and
the process repeated till a good supply of the fish
best worth catching has been secured.
And now the spectators of the strange scene
await with dread anticipation the approaching crisis.
Will the savage fishermen come ashore, or go off
without landing ? In the former event, the cast-
aways have small hope of remaining undiscovered.
True, they are well concealed; not an inch of face
or person is exposed; the captain and Seagriff
alone are cautiously doing the vidette duty. Still,
should the Fuegians come on shore, it must be at
the ledge of rocks, the only landing-place, and
but half a stone's throw from the spot where they
are sheltering.
The thing we 've most to be afeerd of is thar
dogs," mutters Seagriff. Ef they should land,


375







THE LAND OF FIRE.


the little curs '11 be sure to scent us. An'- Sakes
alive What's that ?"
The final exclamation, though involuntarily
uttered aloud, is not heard, even by those stand-
ing beside him, for it is drowned by the noise that
called it forth,-a thundering crash, succeeded
by a loud crackling which continues for more
than a minute of time. There is no mystery
about it, however; it is but a falling tree,-the


again coming out of the dust-cloud, no longer
with a black skin, but chocolate-brown all over,
woolly pate and clothing included, as though he
had been for days buried in tan-bark !-sneezing,
too, with a violence that is really comical.
He is a spectacle to make the most sober-sided
laugh, were the occasion one for merriment; but
his companions are too alarmed for that now, feel-
ing sure of being discovered by the savages. How


-- _.-- ---






A FUEGIAN FISH-HUNT.
one behind which the doctor had been standing, can it be otherwise, after such a catastrophe
his hands pressed against it for support. Yielding -nature itself, as it were, betraying them ?
to curiosity, he had been peering around its Yet to their pleased surprise it proves other-
trunk,- a disobedience that is costing him dear; wise; and on the dust settling down, they see
for, as if in punishment, he has gone along with the Fuegian fishermen still in their canoes, with
the tree, face foremost, and far down the slope, not a face turned toward the land, none, at least,
As he is lost to sight in the cloud of dust that seeming to heed what has happened But there is
has puffed up around them, all believe him killed, nothing strange in this apparent apathy, to one
crushed, buried amid the debris of shattered who knows the reason. In the weird forests of
branches. But no In a trice he is seen on his feet Tierra del Fuego there is many a tree standing,


[MARCH,







THE LAND OF FIRE.


to all appearance sound in trunk, branches, every-
thing; yet rotten from bark to heart-wood, and
ready to topple over at the slightest touch even
if but a gun be rested against it As the fall of
such trees is of common occurrence, the natives
never gave a second thought to so common a
phenomenon. The fishers in the canoes have not
heeded it; while the sneezing of Casar has been
unheard amid the noises made by themselves, their
dogs, and the shrieking sea-birds.
In the end, this very thing by which the casta-
ways feared betrayal proves their salvation; for
the hunter-fishermen do land at length. But,
luckily, they do not stay on shore for any great
time; only long enough to make partition of their
spoil and roughly clean the fish. By exceedingly
good luck, also, the bits of fish thrown to them
fully engage the attention of the dogs, which
otherwise would have surely strayed inland, and so
have come upon the party in hiding.
But perhaps the best instance of favoring for-
tune is the tree pushed down by the doctor;
which has fallen over the ground of the abandoned
camp, and has covered under a mass of rotten
wood and dust all the place where the tent
stood, the fire-hearth, half-consumed faggots,
everything. But for this well-timed obliteration,
the sharp-eyed savages could not have failed to
note the traces of its recent occupancy. As it is,
they have no suspicion either of that or of the
proximity of those who have had possession of the
ground before them, so much engrossed are they
with the product of their fish-hunt, which has
proved an unusually large catch.
Still, the apprehensions of the concealed spec-
tators are not the less keen, and to them it is a
period of dread, irksome suspense. But, fortun-
ately, it lasts not much longer. To their un-
speakable delight, they at length see the savages
bundle back into their canoes, and, pushing off,
paddle away out of the cove.
As the last boat-load of them disappears around
the point of rocks, Captain Gancy, in grateful,
prayerful voice, exclaims :
Again we may thank the Lord for a merciful
deliverance "
CHAPTER XV.

A ROUGH OVERLAND ROUTE.

WHEN they are convinced that the canoes are
gone for good, the castaways again prepare to set
out on the journey so unexpectedly delayed. It is
now noon, and it may be night ere they reach
their destination. So says Seagriff; an assertion
that seems strange, as he admits the distance may
be but a few hundred yards.
VOL. XI.-25.


They are about taking up their bundles to start,
when a circumstance arises that causes further
delay; this time, however, a voluntary and agreea-
ble one. In a last glance toward the cove, ere turn-
ing their backs upon it, two flocks of gulls are seen,
each squabbling about something that floats on
the surface of the water. Something white, which
proves to be a dead fish, or rather a couple of them,
which have been overlooked by the hunter-fisher-
men. They are too large for the gulls to carry
away; and a crowd of the birds are buffeting their
wings in conflict above them.
A bit of rare good luck for us! cries young
Gancy, dropping a pair of oars he has shouldered.
"Come, Harry we '11 go a-fishing, too."
The English youth takes the hint; and, without
another word, both rush down to the water's edge,
where, stripping off coats, shoes, and other im-
fpedimenta, they plunge in.
In a few seconds the fish are reached and
secured, to the great grief and anger of the gulls,
which, now screaming furiously, wheel around the
heads of the swimmers until they are safe on shore
with their prey.
Worth all their trouble is the spoil retrieved,
as the fish prove to be a species of mullet, each
of them over six pounds in weight.
Now assured of having something to eat at the
end of their journey, they set out in much better
spirits. But they make not many steps--if steps
they can be called-before discovering the diffi-
culties at which the old sealer has hinted. Steps,
indeed Their progress is more a sprawl than a
walk; a continuous scramble over trunks of fallen
trees, many so decayed as to give way underneath,
letting them down to their armpits in a mass of
sodden stuff, as soft as mud, and equally bedaub-
ing. Even if disposed, they could no longer laugh
at the cook's changed color, for each of the party
now has much the same aspect.
But no place could be less incentive to laughter
than that which they are in. The humid atmos-
phere around them has a cold, clammy feeling,
and the light is no better than shadowy twilight.
A weird, unearthly silence pervades it, only broken
by the harsh twitter of a diminutive bird-a species
of creeper-that keeps them company on the way,
the dismal woo-woo-a of an owl, and, at intervals,
the rattling call-note of the woodpecker. The last,
though laugh-like in itself, is anything but prov-
ocative of mirth in those who listen to it, and who
learn from Seagriff that it is a sound peculiar to
the loneliest, gloomiest recesses of the Fuegian
forests.
After toiling up the steep acclivity for nearly
two hours, they arrive at a point where the tall
timber ends. There are trees beyond,-beeches,







THE LAND OF FIRE.


like the others, but so dwarfed and stunted as
to better deserve the name of bushes. Bushes of
low growth, but of ample spread; for in height,
they are less than twenty inches, while their
branches extend horizontally to even more than
that number of feet! They are as thickly branched
as the box-edging of a garden-walk, and so inter-
woven with several species of shrubs as to present
a smooth, matted surface, seemingly that of the
ground itself, under a close-cropped sward.
Mistaking it for this, the two young men, who
are in the lead, glad at having escaped from the
gloom of the forest with its many obstructions,
gleefully strike out into what they believe to be
open ground.
But they soon find their belief a delusion, and
the path as difficult- as ever. For now, it is over
the tops of growing, instead of the trunks of fallen,
trees. It is quite as impossible to make rapid
progress here as it was in the forest; and every
now and then the lads' feet break through and be-
come entangled, their trousers are torn and their
shins scratched by the thorns of the barberries.
The others, following, fare a little better, from
being forewarned, and proceed with greater care.
But all find it a troublesome task, calling for agility
as well as caution; now a quick rush, as if over
thin ice or a treacherous quagmire, must be made;
anon, a trip-up and tumble causes many eccentric
flounderings before the feet can be recovered.
Fortunately, the belt 'of lilliputian forest is of
no' great breadth; and beyond it, higher up, they
get upon firmer ground, nearly bare of vegetation,
which continues to the summit of the ridge.
Reaching this, at length, they have a scenic
view of Fireland grander than any yet re-
vealed to them. Mountains to the north, mount-
ains to the south, east, and west; mountains
piled on mountains all around, of every form and
altitude. There are domes, cones, and pyramids;
ridges with terraced sides and table-tops; peaks,
spires, and castellated pinnacles, some of them
having resemblance to artificial mason-work built,
as it were, by Titans In the midst of this pict-
uresque conglomeration, and standing high above
all, like a giant above ordinary men, is the grand
snow-cone of Mount Darwin, on the opposite side
of the arm, fit mate for Sarmiento, seen in the
same range, north-westward. Intersecting the
mountain-chains are deep, ravine-like valleys,
some with sloping sides thickly wooded, others
presenting facades of sheer cliffs,, with rocks bare
and black. Most of them are narrow, dark, and
dismal, save when illumined by glaciers, from the
glistening milky-white and beryl-blue surfaces of
which the sun's rays are vividly reflected.
Valleys, I said, but strictly speaking they are not


valleys at all, but chasms, the bottoms of which
are arms of the sea, straits, sounds, channels,
bays, inlets; many of them with water as deep as
the ocean itself Of every conceivable shape and
trend are they;, so ramifying, and communicating
with one another, that Tierra del Fuego, long sup-
posed to be a main-land, is, in point of fact, only
an archipelago of islands, closely clustered to-
gether.
From their high point of observation on the
ridge's crest, the castaways command a view also
of a reach of water wider than the sea-arm im-
mediately beneath them, of which, however, it is
a continuation. It extends eastward as far as they
can see, straight as an artificial canal, and so like
one in other ways as to suggest the idea, or fancy,
that it has been dug by the same Titans who did
the masonwork on the mountains It occupies
the entire attention of Seagriff, who, looking along
it toward the east, at length says:
"Thet 's the Beagle Channel; the way we were
to hev gone but fur the swampin' of our boat.
An' to think we'd 'a' been running' 'long it now,
insteadd o' stannin' helpless hyar Jest our luck "
To his bitter reflection no one makes response.
Captain Gancy is engrossed with his binocular,
examining the shores of the sea-arm, while the
others, fatigued by their long, arduous climb, are
seated upon rocks at some distance off, resting.
After a time, the skipper, re-slinging his glass,
makes known the result of his observation, saying:
I can see nothing of the canoes anywhere.
Probably they 've put into some other cove along
shore to the westward. At all events, we may as
well keep on down."
And down they go, the descent proving quicker
and easier than the ascent. Not that the path is
less steep, or beset with fewer obstructions; but
their tumbles are now all in the right direction,
with no backward sliding. Forward falls they
have, and many; every now and then a wild. up-
throwing of arms ends with a fall at full length
upon the face. They succeed, however, in reach-
ing the water's edge again, without serious injury
received by any, though all of them are as wet as
if they had been swimming with their clothes on,
and are looking forlorn, soiled and draggled.
At the place where they have now reached the
beach, there is a slight curving indentation in the
shore-line ; not enough to be called, a bay, nor
to interfere with their chance of being seen by
any ship that may pass along the arm. As this
has been their reason for changing quarters, it
might be supposed they would choose the most
conspicuous point for their new encampment. But
their choice is influenced by other considerations;
chief of these being the fact that near the center


[MARCH,







THE LAND


of the curve they find a spot altogether suited to
their purpose-a grassy spot, high and dry, a
little platform surrounded and sheltered by trees.
That they are not the first human beings to set
foot on it is evinced by the skeleton of a wigwam
found standing there; while on the beach below is
a heap of shells recognizable as a kitchen mid-
den."* These evidences of former occupancy also
proclaim it of old date. The floor of the wigwam
is overgrown with grass and weeds; while the shell-
heap is also covered with greenery, the growth
upon it being wild celery and scurvy grass, both
of which plants give promise of future utility.
Like promise is there in another object near-
at-hand: a bed of kelp, off shore, just opposite,
marking a reef, the rocks of which are bare at
ebb tide. From this, shell-fish may be taken, as
they have been before; for the kelp-bed explains
the presence of wigwam and "kitchen midden."
In addition to these advantages, the beech-
apples and berries are as plentiful here as at the
encampment in the cove, and still another species
is found not far off. At the western extremity of
the indentation, a slightly elevated ridge projects
out into the water, treeless, but overgrown with
bushes of low stature, which are thickly covered
with what at a distance appear to be bunches of
red blossoms, but on closer inspection prove to be
berries -cranberries.
-But, notwithstanding all these advantages, there
are other indications about the place which are not
so pleasing. The wigwam, tells of their still being
in the territory of the hostile tribe from which they
have so miraculously escaped.
Ailikoleep is the exclamation of Seagriff,
as soon as he sets eyes on it; "we 're in the country
o' the rascally savagers yit! "
How do you know that? inquires the skipper.
By the build o' thet wigwam, an' the bulk of it.
Ez ye see, it's roun'-topped, wharas them o' the
Tekineekers, an' other Feweegins, run up to a
sharp p'int, besides bein' bigger an' roomier.
Thar 's another sign, too, of its bein' Ailikoleep.
They kiver thar wigwams wi' seal-skins, 'stead o'
grass, which the Tekineekers use. Ef this bed been
thatched wi' grass, we 'd see some o' the rubbish
inside; an', moreover, the floor 'd be hollered out
-which it 's not. Yes, the folks that squatted
hyar hev been Ailikoleeps. But it 's no surprise
to me, ez I heern some words pass 'mong the fishing'
party, which show'd 'em to be thet same. Wal,"
he continues, more hopefully, thar 's one good
thing; they have n't set fut on this groun' fur a
long while; which is some airnest o' thar hevin'


1884.]


*These shell-heaps, or "kitchen middens," are a feature of Fuegian scenery. They are usually found wherever there is a patch of
shore level enough to land upon; but the beach opposite a bed of kelp is the place where the largest are met with. In such situations
the skeletons of oil : .... are also encountered, as the Fuegians, on deserting them, always leave them standing, probably from
some superstitious -1,..;


OF FIRE. 379


gi'n the place up fur good. Those dead woods
tell o' thar last doin's about hyar."
He points to some trees standing near, with
most of the bark stripped from their trunks.
"They 've peeled 'em fur patchin' thar canoes;
an', by the look of it, thet barking was done more
'n three years ago."
All this does little to restore confidence. The
fact of the fishing party having been Ailikoleeps is
too sure evidence that danger is still near at hand.
And such danger They only need to recall the
late attack-the fiendish aspect of the savages,
with their furious shouts and gestures, the darting
of javelins and hurling of stones--to fully realize
what it is. With that fearful episode fresh in their
memory, the castaways require no further counsel
to make them cautious in their future movements.
However, they begin at once to repitch their
tent, which is set up so as to be screened from
view of any canoe passing along the sea-arm ; and
for their better accommodation, the wigwam is re-
roofed, as it, too, is invisible from the water. More-
over, no fire is to be made during daylight, lest its
smoke should betray them; and when kindled
at night for cooking purposes, it must be done
within the wood, whence not a glimmer of it may
escape outward. And a lookout is to be con-
stantly kept through the glass, by one or another
taking it in turns; this is done not alone for ene-
mies, but for friends--for that ship which they
still hope may come along the Beagle Channel.


CHAPTER XVI.

BY THE "KITCHEN MIDDEN."

THE programme determined on is carried out to
the letter. But as the days pass, and no ship
appears, their impatience becomes despondency-
almost despair. Yet this is for the best, as it
strengthens a resolution already half formed, but
not finally decided upon. This is to build a boat.
Nor, in this case, is necessity-mother of invention
-the sole impelling influence. Other circum-
stances aid in suggesting the scheme, because
they favor its execution. There is timber in plenty
on the spot, needing only to be hewn into shape
and put together. The oars, mast, and sail are
already on hand; but, above all, here is a ship's-
carpenter, capable of turning out any kind of craft,
from a dinghy to the biggest of long-boats.
All these advantages taken into account, the
task is set about without further hesitation, and
hopefully. A great drawback, however, is their








THE LAND OF FIRE.


being unprovided with proper tools. They have
only a common wood-ax, hammer, auger, and
their sailor-knives. The other tools were left in
the gig, and went down with it.
Doing their best with those on hand, the ax is
first brought into play, the negro being the one to
wield it; and he promptly attacks the tree which
Seagriff points out to be felled first.


of the trees are heart-decayed, without showing
outward sign of it, the result of an ever-humid at-
mosphere. Aware of this, Chips tries each one by
tapping it with the auger before the ax is laid to it.*
For days after, the chipping strokes of the
ax, with the duller thuds of wood mallets on
wedges, awaken echoes in the Fuegian forest such
as may never have been heard there before. When


"NOW IT IS OVER THE TOPS OF GROWING, INSTEAD OF THE TRUNKS OF FALLEN, TREES."


It is a beech; one of those that have been
barked. This circumstance is in their favor, and
saves them time ; for the barked trees having been
long dead, their timber is now dry and seasoned,
ready for working up at once. Still, caution is
called for in selecting those to be cut down. Were'
they taken indiscriminately, much of Cmsar's labor
might be thrown away; for, as has been said, many


felled, the trunks are cut to the proper length,
and split into rough planks by means of wedges,
and are afterward smoothed with the knives.
With such indifferent tools, the work is neces-
sarily slow; and is still further retarded by another
requirement, food, which meanwhile has to be
procured. The supply, however, proves less pre-
carious than was anticipated, the kelp-bed yield-


*Nearly all the larger trees in the Fuegian forests have the heartwood decayed, and are worthless as timber. Out of fifteen cut down
by Captain King's surveying party, near Port Famine, more than half proved to be rotten at the heart.


380


[MARCH,







THE LAND OF FIRE.


ing an unlimited amount of shell-fish. Daily, at
low water, the two youths swim out to it, and bring
away a good number of limpets and mussels. And
now and then a calf seal is clubbed, which affords a
change of diet; some delicate morsels, too, parts
of the young seal being equal to spring lamb.
The scurvy-grass and wild celery, moreover, en-
able the doctor" to turn out more than one
variety of soup.
But for the continuing fear of a visit from the
savages, and other anxieties about the future, their
existence would be tolerable, if not enjoyable.
Kind Nature here, as elsewhere, treats them to
many a curious spectacle. One is afforded by the
"steamer-duck,"* a bird of large size, specimens
having been taken over three feet in length and
weighing thirty pounds. It has an enormous head,
with a hard, powerful beak for smashing open
the shells of molluscs, which form its principal
food. But its wings are so short and weak that
flight in the air is denied it. Still, it uses them
effectually in flapping, which, aided by the beating
of its broad webbed feet, enables it to skim over
the surface of the water at the rate of fifteen miles
an hour In its progress, says Darwin, "it makes
such a noise and splashing that the effect is exceed-
ingly curious." 'The great naturalist further states
that he is "nearly sure the steamer-duck moves its
wings alternately, instead of both together, as other
birds move theirs." It is needless to say that it is
from this propulsion by its wings, like the paddles
of a steam-vessel, that the bird has derived the
name by which it is now best known.
Seals are observed every day; on one occasion
a seal-mother giving a curious display of maternal
solicitude in teaching her calf to swim. First
taking hold of it by the flipper, and for a while
supporting it above water, with a shove she sends
the youngster adrift, leaving it to shift for itself.
In a short time, the little creature becomes ex-
hausted, when she takes a fresh grip on its flipper,
and again supports it till it has recovered breath,
after which there is another push-off, followed by a
new attempt to swim, the same process being
several times repeated to the end of the lesson.
A still rarer and more remarkable spectacle is
furnished by a couple of whales. One calm, clear
morning, with the water waveless and smooth as
a mirror, two of these grand cetaceans are seen
swimming along, one in the wake of the other, and


so close in shore that they might almost be reached
with the boat-hook. And while still near the edge
of the water, one of them blows, sending aloft a
spout that, returning in a shower of spray, falls
upon the leaves with a pattering as of heavy rain!
Soon after, sheering off into mid-channel, and
continuing their course, they blow again and
again, each steam-like spray, with the sun upon it,
showing like a silvery cloud, which hangs in the
air for more than a minute ere becoming altogether
dissipated.
The marine monsters have come along the arm
from the west, and are proceeding eastward--
no doubt making the traverse from ocean to ocean,
in the same direction the castaways propose to go,
if permitted to finish their boat. But will they be
permitted? That is the ever-recurring question,
and constant cause of uneasiness. Their anxiety
about it becomes even keener, as the time passes,
and their task draws nearer completion. For,
although weeks have now elapsed since the depart-
ure of the fishing party, and nothing more has
been seen of them or any other savages, nor have
any fires been visible at night, nor any smoke by day
-still the Fuegians may appear at any.moment;
and their fears on this score are not diminished by
what Seagriff says, in giving the probable reason
for their non-appearance:
"I guess they 've gone out seaward, along the
west coast, seal-huntin'. The old seals ur tamer
at this seezun then any other, an' easier stolen
upon. But the year 's on the turn now, an'
winter 's setting' in; therefur, we may look out
any minute for the ugly critters coming' along. Ef
we only hed the boat finished an' afloat! I wish
she was in the water now "
As all wish the same, there is no relaxation of
effort to bring about the desired end. On the con-
trary, his words inspire them to renewed energy for
hastening its accomplishment.
Alas, all to no purpose One morning, just be-
fore daybreak, while on the lookout with his glass,
Captain Gancy sees coming eastward, along the
arm, a fleet of canoes crowded with people, to all
appearance the same craft encountered in Whale
Boat Sound.
Believing that they are the same, he cries out in
a voice that quivers, despite his efforts to keep it
firm: "There they are at last! Heaven have
mercy on us "


The micrrofterus brachyfterus of Quoy and Guimard. The "steamer-duck" is a feature almost peculiar to the inland Fuegian
waters, and has always been a bird of note among sailors, like the Cape pigeons and Mother Carey's chickens." There is another and
smaller species, called the "flying steamer," as it is able to mount into the air. It is called by naturalists microfterus Patachonica.
(To be continued.)


1884.]1





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AN ALPHABET MENAGERIE.


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1884.]





386


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[MARCH,





AN ALPHABET MENAGERIE.


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387


1884.]







388


GIRL-NOBLESSE.


[MARCH,


GIRL-NOBLESSE. A REPEAT OF HISTORY.

BY MRS. ADELINE D. T. WHITNEY.

[INTRODUCTORY.-I have been asked by the editor of ST. NICHOLAS to prefix a little note of explana-
tion to my analogue. It is not a Repeat of History," as such; it is a bit of incident in which something that
happens bears a parallel likeness to another thing that happened long ago. It was suggested by a visit I made, a
summer or two since, with a young party, to an old block-house near the coast of Maine, a genuine relic of the
Indian and colonial times. Cooper's novels were among the great delights of my girlhood. His Pathfinder," in
which the lovely Indian girl, Dew-of-June, saves the life of the heroine, Mabel Dunham, by warning her to seek
shelter in the log-defense, (telling -her, mysteriously, when all seemed safe in the forest-fort where she was staying
with her father, the sergeant of the garrison,-" Block-house good; got no scalp "); the adventures that followed;
the plots and rude retributive vengeance of Arrowhead; the fidelity of June coming to shut herself up with Mabel
while her savage kindred were besieging the block; all these had fascinated me over and over again, and impressed
on my mind a clear vision of the place and surroundings as described. So that when I stood in this other similar
structure, and found its rough, primitive plan the very same,--and when certain little jokes and frights befel and
amused us,- I thought how easily the same characteristics illustrated themselves, and even circumstances fell into
significant resemblance, in the old, wild time and the new, cultivated one. The idea led me into the writing of this
story. You who have read, or may now read, the Pathfinder," will recognize the adaptation and application of
names, as well as the spirit and action of the persons, in several cases in the present tale; as, indeed, they are
partly pointed out as it goes along. The things unexplained I will leave you the pleasure of discovering for your-
selves. A. D. T. W.]


JUNIA ROYD."
That was the way it sounded, and. that was the
way it had come to be spelled in Nonnusquam, as
well as in other out-of-the-way new places to
which the old family of the Rougheads had scat-
tered and drifted. The girls in Mrs. Singlewell's
school hardly knew whether to think it funny or
pretentious when it was explained to them. It
was ridiculous, anyway, that there should have
been an "origin" to this village name, or that
ancient spelling and present pronunciation should
have anything to do with each other. They called
it Rough-head," and so applied it, in the school-
girl derision that is so cruel, and that was directed
by the common consent of a certain set toward this
young girl, against whose admission among them
they had scornfully objected that she was "only
one of the aborigines."
Nonnusquam was known farther, but perhaps
not better, as the seat of a superior school for girls,
and as the summer residence of a few wealthy
people who had bought estates and built houses
among its lovely heights and along its water-
borders, than as the quiet, honest, homely, uncul-
tivated farm-settlement, which it began by being,
and which it had continued to be up to the sudden
advent and rush of city discoverers.
And Juniawas a meek, modest, easily oppressed
sort of girl,-on one side of her character. Strong
points lay opposite and in balance, which we may
find out, as the people from the great hubs found
out the glory of the hills and waters in quiet
Nonnusquam.


One of the brightest things ever said in satire
was that concerning our grand old, noble, mean,
persecuted and persecuting New En'gland ancestry:
The first thing they did here was to fall upon
their knees; the next was to fall upon the aborig-
ines." That was very like what some of the city
settlers and improvers had done in Nonnusquam.
They had fallen down and worshiped before the
magnificence of nature,-they had built their
shrines there; then they had set foot of pride on
the primeval human nature in whose rough sim-
plicity was hid, perhaps, a grandeur also. It
came hardest upon the "little ones," for despising
whom there is a threatening; and it came most
openly from the other little ones, than to cause
whom to offend, by spirit or example, a millstone
'round the neck is better.
So Nonnusquam was divided into twain; yet
there were shades in the differences, and crossings
in the partings, that were delicate to adjudge.
Young people are indiscriminate; they could
not see the difference between the Royds, or
Rougheads, and the Polliwocks. They could not
appreciate that Redman Royd, late owner of half
the pasture-lands and intervales bought up by the
new gentry, and still holding craftily certain inter-
jacent coveted meadow-strips and wooded ridges,
-a power in town-meeting and political conven-
tion,-a man with a blaze in his eye under his old
straw hat for any too cool or level glance from
beneath more stylish brim,-was more to be con-
sidered or accepted than Stadpole Polliwock or
Evetson 'Newt. Consequently they could not ap-







A REPEAT OF HISTORY.


preciate that Junia Royd could have privilege
among them at the seminary or in their little social
life above the small Polliwocks or Captain Newt's
Saramandy.
"R-o-u-g-h-e-a-d, forRoyd! That 's nonsense "
said Hester Moore.
E-n-r-a-g-h-t, for Darby That 's a fact," said
Amabel Dernham "in a certain English family
name. And there are plenty of others, almost as
queer. "
E-n-r-a-g-e-d, hopping-mad That's the fact
for me,-and for plenty of others in a certain
American school," returned Hester.
What's the use? asked placid Amabel.
Oh, you 'll give in, and be as polite as a
pink," charged Hester. I know. You can't
show your mind, ever."
"I can't tread on i ri-.... said Amabel.
The other side of my mind comes up then, and
I show that."
No need of treading," said the incipient
woman of the world. You can walk 'round
things, or put them out of the window. But
you '11 make right up to 'em, and cosset 'em; see
if you don't."
So Junia Royd was (figuratively,) "walked
'round "; put out of the window ; made to feel
like a phantom. The girls, whenever it so suited
them, behaved precisely as if she was n't there ;
rather, perhaps, as lacking the second sight them-
selves. For if they could have seen her in the
spirit,-ah, that is the secret of all our sins against
the second great Commandment!
There were a few little Eves whose souls were
not strong against odors and colors of apples and
plums which came from Squire Royd's garden, and
were irresistible at lunch time. These little Eves
would take and eat, though they must therebymake
acquaintance with second-rate, which is always evil,
as well as with first-rate, which is always good.
Then, also, there was Amabel Dernham.
Mrs. Singlewell was a woman of observation
and instinct. She might find herself in a dilemma,
but when she moved, she made the best move to
be made. She put Junia Royd as desk-mate with
Amabel Dernham. I will not say that Amabel did
not at first feel secretly a little "put upon." Hester
Moore came by within an hour and whispered,
"Little Miss Muffet! But that rather touched
Miss Muffet's pride in the right place; and she
stuck to her tuffet, and to its sharer, like a woman.
A real, true woman; not a feminine creature,
afraid of spiders.
Junia Royd was slight and dark; Amabel was
large and fair; they looked together like a little
deep-colored, velvet pansy, and a delicately superb
one of white and gold. Junia bent her dusky


head to her contrast and worshiped. The sun-
shiny contrast bloomed on serenely, and, by very
sunshine and serenity, was gracious.
Amabel shared her Latin Lexicon with Junia;
she showed her how to trace the derivations and
disentangle the constructions. She explained
" abstracts" and "criticisms as school exercises;
she reminded her of the order of lessons and the
obligation of rules, until these became familiar to
the new-comer. In short, she was just "as polite
as a pink,"-or as a princess pansy.
Junia would lay a Jacqueminot or a Gloire de
Dijon rose on Amabel's desk, coming early to
school on purpose; Amabel would put the crimson
flower in her blonde hair, or the golden-colored
one against her breast-knot of brown or red; and
one was pleased and the other was happy. But
Junia never offered a pear or a peach at that
shrine; she kept those for the sort to whom she
would not cast pearls; the sort who would render
stolid, narrow-eyed regard, and move grovelingly
to her approach, for the sake of them. She gave
simply what they came for, asking for no further
sign in exchange. One does not care to caress
that kind of animal; one would rather have a
fence between than not.
And so, with all, she lived a phantom life among
these girls; even with Amabel, not getting beyond
the grace and the politeness,-the shy, sweet utter-
ance of thanks, or the matter-of-course chirping
over their lessons. If on one side there were-
creatures-in their pen of exclusiveness, on the
other there was but a bird on a bough. Any
beautiful, realized friendship was the dream of her
Sown heart. Amabel was claimed on all sides when
desk hours were over; her way did not lie with
Junia's; each drifted to her separate element and
belonging between school-out and school-in. Junia
made long romances to herself of what these in-
tervals were like to the birds of the air; as for
Amabel, she flitted away and forgot Junia altogether
every day, from two in the afternoon till nine next
morning, when she lighted again beside her.
Neal Royd was Junia's brother; she had a hard
time with him, often, in these off hours. She
worshiped him also,- and first and always; he
was brother and sister and all to her; tyrant and
scoffer, too, with his man-masterfulness and boy-
cynicism. He had the hard, proud nature of Neal
and Roughead; "Neal," in the old Celtic, stands
for "chief." He was bitter against the "'high-
noses," and bitter with his sister because they
snubbed her. He was contemptuous of the girl-
noblesse; yet he would often crush June with scorn
of her position with them,- that she could not be
anybody as well as anybody else." He would have
been well content to carry the Royd rights level


389








*39O GIRL-NOBLESSE [MARCH,


with the "high-nose" assumptions. His con-
tempt, therefore, was not absolute or successful.
He was especially mordacious against Pester
More." He had his own grudges against the
name, belonging also to '"Alexander the Great,"
her brother. He '/ never weep for more worlds
to conquer. The world 's all More, already, for
small Shandy," quoth Neal Royd. He would give
him both titles, the great and the small, in one
sentence. "Small body and high strut,"-"big
spread and little spunk," he said of him, and not
untruly.
Hester Moore had turned her back upon Neal
once, long ago, as only raw rudeness could have
done, and left him flante' la, in the face of by-
standers, when he would have handed her a
handkerchief that she had dropped; and Sandie
had served him a mean trick, and never given him
.a chance to pay it off. It was up at the Little
Wittaquee -the brook that feeds the Big Witta-
quee before it runs past Nonnusquam. Neal was
trout-fishing; he knew a place that few others
knew, and he had just got a splendid fellow play-
ing around his line, when "_loomp / came a
stone from right over his head into the pool;
and "floomf / 7loomi/ another and another,
breaking great circles in the still water, and scat-
tering the fish, of course; besides (which was even
worse), a voice jeeringly advertising the discovery
of his secret. Starting to his feet, and facing
about and upward, he saw small Shandy coolly
looking over, not at him, but upon the.farther
water, as if simply bent upon his own amusement,
and as if not knowing that Neal was there."
Down went rod upon the bank, and up the
rough steep went Neal, scrambling and grasping,
making with swift vengeance for the petty foe,
whom, even after the breathless ascent, he knew he
could overtake in a fair run upon the level above.
But lo reaching the ridge, from which the down-
like table spread away for half a mile toward an other
climb, there was Master Alexander upon his pony
Bucephalus, putting four legs to their best against
his two !
"Another time! articulated Neal Royd, with
deliberation, standing stock still in black wrath, not
*even raising a fist to shake impotently after the
teachingg minnum." "Another time! If it
is n't till we're both men! "
And that was what, indeed, seemed most likely,
since Sandie Moore was off the next day to Mount
Desert, to meet a yachting party for his holidays,
and at their end, at Exeter Academy again; and in
the intermediate short space that he had been at
Nonnusquam, had shown the small, conscious
shrewdness of his sort in keeping well out of "the
Rough-head's way.


Neal Royd was not without his untrimmed
points of human nature, though there was better
blood in him than in Sandie Moore. He was an
aborigine yet, in that he was the enemy of a girl, for
her own offenses and those of her kin. A savage
will ambush and will take scalps of women. Neal
Royd thirsted for a chance or a contrivance to
"pay off" to Pester More the interest, at least,
upon the accumulating family debt. He was only
fourteen; there was hope for better things in him,
since he began with something generous enough
to resent a meanness even more than a malice.
It would be his turn now, though, if a way should
show; and fair enough, if he served them in their
own fashion. They, not he, had set it. June
would let a grasshopper kick her "
All this has been historical introduction. We
come now to the beginning of our repeat."
A gypsy party at the old block-house. A straw
ride to Mill Creek Landing; the steamer, touching
at ten o'clock, for Penbassett; the lovely river
sail, the quiet cove, the steep rocks, the cavern,
the woody summit, the oak-glade in the farm-edge;
above all, the real, true old-settlement block-house,
that the colonists had taken refuge in, the Indians
had invested,-with the bullet-holes in its timbers,
the places charred and blackened by flames against
its massive sides, the excavation beneath in solid
ledge, and the tradition of an under-ground passage
to the cavern by the river.
All Mrs. Singlewell's young ladies were to go;
the great difficulty was male attendance. It was
September, and the youths-" high-nose "-were
just away at academy or college. The youths,-
snub-nose,-even if they were to be asked, would
hardly go, merely as Polly-put-the-kettle-ons,"
and to be snubbed some more. One of the incon-
veniences of a small town, cleft in social twain,
arose. Early harvest occupied the able-bodied
men; corn and barley were of more consequence
than a day's chore. Who should carry baskets
up and down, fetch wood and water, and hang the
kettle--for the picnic party?
Amabel Dernham thought Mamma would let
Zibbie go (Zibbie was short for Zorayda Brunhilda,
-Z. B.,-the magnificent Moorish and Teutonic
prefixes to the plebeian Yankee of Spodge); "be-
sides, it would be only fun to do it nearly all
ourselves."
Hester Moore went unblushingly to Junia Royd,
and invited her to invite her brother.
"You are the only one who has a brother at
home," she said, with an air of conscious penalty-
for-honor. "They would all go if they were here,
of course ; only Mrs. Singlewell's mother had to be
sick at just the wrong time,- when they were here
-and put us into the wrong time now."


390


GIRL-NOBLESSE


[MARCH,






A REPEAT OF HISTORY.


Hester Moore had probably never spoken so
many consecutive words to Junia before in their
whole school year.
"I will tell him," said June, not without her
own dignity, "if you mean it for a message; but
very likely he will think it a wrong time for him to
be in."
Oh, I don't see why," said Hester, carelessly.
To Junia's amazement, Neal said that he would
go. Then something in the setof his face startled
her differently.
0 Neal! she said, don't!-I mean-don't
do anything !"
Why, what do you suppose they want me for ?"
asked Neal. I shall make myself of service--
to the interests of society in general-in any way
that I see chance for."
"0 Neal! Don't look for chances! That 's
just what I mean." June had heard the word too
often, not to be apprehensive of it.
You may be sure I wont waste time in looking,
if I can make one," was all that Neal vouchsafed.
"And I shall go."
Poor little June With her awe of Neal's tre-
mendousness, and her gentle dread of harm or
pain to any, she shivered with vague imagina-
tion of little less than an upset canoe on the river
in the pleasure-boating, or a block-house blown
up, in good earnest, with dynamite If she could
only warn her Amabel,- or knew what to warn
her of! From that moment, the gypsy party had
only trembling and terrors for her; at all events,
in the looking forward. .When they were fairly
embarked, the delights of the way asserted them-
selves, and absorbed her temporarily; in the
pauses, or recurrences of thought, she remembered
to look forward again, and the nameless dread
began anew. Neal was so reckless of what he
did, when the freak was on! She was sure there
would be some disaster,- ........1l;i. to make
them wish they had not gone.
Amabel, sitting between her and Hester Moore
in the wagon, told Hester something that gave
Junia a cold shudder at the outset.
If I were superstitious, I 'd hardly dare be
here," said the girl. Old Sabina said such a
queer thing this morning. She brought up my
dress, this,"--touching the light cambric frills
that lay about her in white freshness,-" into my
room last night, and I spread it out so nicely on
my, lounge. Then I got out my ribbons and
neckerchief, and put everything together just as it
was to go; and this morning I tied up my flowers,
evenly, and laid the bunch at the side, where it is
now; and there I was, you see, all but me, just
as straight and prim and complete. And old
Sabina came in, and I showed her. I was doing


my hair. 'See how nice it looks,' I said; and, do
you think, she just gave a screech, and flew at it,
and tossed everything apart, and flung the dress
on a chair. For goodness' sake, Miss Amy, don't
ever do a thing like that again Don't streek out
things you're going to wear, and make 'em look
like that/ Why, my sister, that's a widder, laid
out jest a long frilled counterpin once, over two
chairs, not to muss it while it aired ; and it looked
so goshly, mother made her take it away. And
do you believe, Miss Amy, 't war n't a week 'fore
my brother David he come up dead, in a letter !' "
Oh, don't! cried Junia, excitedly; and
Amabel, turning with the laugh on her lips, saw
June as white as the dress.
Why, do you mind such things ?" she asked.
" It sounded so funny "
"So -'goshly,'" replied Junia, trying feebly
to turn off her nervousness by the quotation.
"I don't see what she has to do with it," re-
marked Hester, remotely.
Junia, put in the third person, stayed put, and
held herself aside. Put down ? Easily quenched ?
These easily quenched persons are not always
" down." There is a fine inward retreat, of which
the putter-down may scarcely be capable even
of supposing.
In this retreat Junia troubled herself afresh for
Amabel. She was always with Hester Moore;
and June was sure that Hester Moore would be
that day like a tree in a thunder-storm, for what-
ever bolt should fall.
If you would just keep with me, to-day,-
some of the time,'--she entreated, and then shyly
qualified, standing by Amabel upon the pier.
She had never asked for herself, or put herself
in the way before. Amabel gave a glance of
surprise.
It is such a wild, great place," said June.
"We shall all be there," returned Amabel.
Of course, we shall be together."
Amabel had said truly; there were two sides to
her mind, and she was sometimes a little vacillat-
ing in her action between them.
The bright little steamer, with its pretty lattices
of white-painted rope, its striped awnings, its
flying colors, came around a green promontory
and glided to the landing. There was a warping
in, close to the pier-head; a shock and tremble
of the tall timbers as it swept suddenly against
them; a flinging of the foot-plank; a hurrying on
board; and instantly, like a flock of butterflies,
the girls, in their white and dainty-colored dresses,
and shady, veiled or feathered hats, had fluttered
and settled, here and there, brightening up the
decks with their motion and alighting.
Mrs. Singlewell was coming last,-Miss Fidelia








392 GIRL-NOBLESSE [MARCH,


Posackley, the assistant, was just on board,-when
a boy on a gray pony came galloping down the
road, reining up just in time on the wharf, and
waving a yellow envelope above his head, as he
kept on at slackened speed toward the steamer.
"Mrs. Singlewell! he shouted; and the lady
took her foot from the plank and turned around.
All aboard was called impatiently from the
boat, and two men already held the gang-plank,
ready to draw it in.
"A telegram "
Mrs. Singlewell tore it open; there was only an
instant for deciding anything; she passed down
the gang-plank, dispatch in hand.
It is from Fordstoke;" she said to Miss Posack-
ley. My mother is ill again. I shall have to go
on to Rigston, leaving you in charge at Penbasset.
I am very sorry. I shall be very anxious."
Miss Fidelia assured her of all possible care.
But Miss Fidelia Posackley was one of those who
can only move between ruled lines of duty and
precedent; and, by very adherence to them, go
straight to grief-or stand and take it-when sud-
den deviation is demanded. They turn into pillars
of salt instead of getting out of Sodom. Miss
Posackley was invaluable in school routine; she
was worse than nothing for an emergency. It was
with a great misgiving, therefore, that Mrs. Single-
well saw her flock of butterflies flutter up the bank
into the oak glades at Penbasset; Miss Fidelia,
with her green lawn overdress, looped in two pre-
cisely similar, long-pointed festoons behind, walk-
ing among them like a solemnized Katydid. It
was too late to have helped it; there would be no
boat back that stopped at Nonnusquam till the one
at six o'clock, which they were to take.
"Get them all together by half-past five,"
charged Mrs. Singlewell, at parting; "and let
there be no going in canoes."
At those words, one dread was lifted from Junia
Royd's imagination.
"Your 'sign' is read out now," said Hester
Moore to Amabel. It 's only the old lady that 's
" come up worse again in a telegram."
Junia would not have spoken so, or allowed her-
self that only "; nevertheless, another weight-
or, rather, a dim, grim sense of one-was eased
within her mind.
She was able, with a released spring of enjoy-
ment, to hasten up the cliff-path and over the
beautiful oak-open, in the little party that instantly
sought the famous old block-house. Another de-
tachment took the shore-way along the rocks to-
ward the traditionary cavern.
Junia had read with enthusiasm Cooper's fascin-
ating stories of border life and forest warfare. The
legends of Deerslayer and Pathfinder were realities


to her in that realm where fancy shapes its facts
and maps its territories. She had not more surely
come to this actual spot, than she had gone
through the wilderness, drifted upon the water,
and dwelt in the lonely fort or on the rudely for-
tressed island, with Judith and Hetty and the
young hunter,-the brave old sergeant, the cap-
tious Cap, Eau-douce, the honest scout, and Mabel
Dunham. But to come here to-day was to make
that strange join of things dreamy and things
tangible which makes the visible seem a dream
and the vision seem a substance. To say, Right
here those, or such, things have been," was to
narrow down to touch and presence what she had
before gone far away into wide thought-land to
find and get conception of.
"Mabel Dunham!" All at once that came
and fitted. Her very heroine was here,-Amabel.
How strange that the name should happen so!
Amabel Dernham. And herself,-why, she, little,
dusky, insignificant, secretly worshiping friend,-
what was she but the very Indian June of the wild-
wood story ?
She rehearsed it all to Neal, who walked up with
her, and who knew the old tale by heart as well
as she.
"And I 'm Neal Roughead,--Chief Arrow-
head !" cried the boy.
"And if I knew what you'd do to Amabel,-
my Mabel,-I 'd go and tell her, as June did
Mabel Dunham !" retorted quiet Junia, in a quick,
low, angry tone.
"'T is n't your Amabel,-she 's well enough;
it 's the rest of 'em. It's that 'Pester' More "
"She 's always with that Hester Moore; what
happens to one will happen to the other."
"Let it, then. Good for her. Why is n't she
sometimes with you ? "
What is it, Neal?" asked Junia, pleadingly.
"Don't know myself. Time enough when the
time comes. Only you look out, and keep your-
self in a clear place, and clear of 'Pester' More."
Junia was silent then, but her eyes, full of help-
less trouble, would not leave her brother's; and
somehow the trouble would not let her see the
half-fun half hid in his, or that he was already
amusing himself in advance with her.
"Sho, June Don't work yourself up to concert
pitch like that. You girls always suppose the end
of the world, or nothing. I sha'n't tomahawk any-
body. But I can scare their fish, or make 'em feel
small, I guess, one way or another, before it's been
their turn much longer."
With that, June had to make much of the re-
lief again, and go on with the others to the block-
house. Neal stopped at the big flat" with some
baskets, and was to return to the pier for more.


392


GIRL-NOBLESSE


[MARCH,







A REPEAT OF HISTORY.


Not all the girls had read "The Pathfinder";
still fewer were acquainted with, or cared much for,
the early history of Penbasset, in which this old
block-house figured, as the other did in the novel.
Miss Posackley dutifully enlarged to them upon
the one; the girls who knew the enchanting
fiction broke up the solid lecture with interpola-
tions of the romance, and finally got the audience
-all that was audience, and not restlessness and
chatter-to themselves. June, knowing it all
better than any, stood silent, .and gazed intently


Down here are the mysteries and the under-ground
passage "
"I'm going down cried Clip Hastings, always
first, and often head-first.
My dear! remonstrated Miss Posackley, it's
five or six feet, and no steps "
No matter. Here I am replied Clip, from
the cellar, into which she had swung herself while
the words were spoken. And half a dozen others
had followed before Miss Posackley could call up
rule or precedent for determined opposition.


"1

(


I,
~ II I


Ii


I: :----


I





I ,
, 1 '
} |

:i^


"AND I 'A NEAL ROUGHEAD-CHIEF ARROWHEAD, "


about her, recognizing the points and landmarks
of her dream. For one of these old block-houses
was nearly a duplicate of another.
The heavy door of the structure had been long
off its hinges ; some of the great timbers leaned up
against its side; an open space where its leaf had
hung gave wide entrance into the dusty, empty, an-
cient interior. The narrow loops would else have let
in little light. As it was,-low-raftered, deep, and
heavily built,-there was enough of the shadow-
charm of mystery for the young explorers, as they
stepped across the great, rude, uncrumbled sill, and
went peering in toward the far, dark corners.
"Such beams! they exclaimed. "Whole trees !
and big ones And such bolts and clampings "
"Here are the holes they fired their rifles from !"
"And here are bullet-holes at the edges, where
the Indians tried to fire in "
"But this, girls, is the trap-door-take care!
VOL. XI.-26.


"There! Stop, my dears! No more of you
must go down!" she said, with out-stretched,
hindering hands, to the others. I can't see how
they are to get back again, I 'm sure." And she
fluttered to the brink, like a hen whose ducklings
are in the water.
"'Round by the cavern called back Clip.
" Good-bye Then the voices grew smothered
under the solid floor, as the rebels groped away
into the darkness.
My dears! Young ladies Really, this will
not do called Miss Posackley. "Come back,
instantly!"
Were they out of hearing? No answer--no
sound of one -returned. How far did the exca-
vation reach ? And what might be there ? Water,
possibly An old well! What might they grope
or stumble into ? Miss Posackley was in an agony.
The stillness, that had occurred so suddenly,


I~

i


b
.,.; ,
h :


~S~i_






GIRL NOBLESSE.


continued. Some of the girls were frightened;
some eagerly excited.
Oh, where do you think it goes to ? Have
they fallen into anything ? cried the first.
And They 've found it; they've gone down to
,the river Let us go, too, lease, Miss Posackle.
declared and besought the second.
Not one of you; on no account! said I,1
Posackley, unsparing of her negatives in I.r
vehemence.
Hester Moore was one of the explorers. J .. i
held Amabel by the arm, above. She had ba,.!
'hindered her from following; not that she 1 ,.
really thought of danger, at the first, but sin,.l
that she saw Hester go, and she was to keep
those two apart. If she could do but that all
day long, not knowing why Not waiting
to know,-only clinging to the warn- .
ing of Neal's words : "A clear place,
and clear of 'Pester'!"
There would be mis-
chief, somehow; and
this would be the only /,
sure exemption from it.
Neal Royd is not the
first who has been terrible by hint and mystifica-
tion, while tolerably mystified himself as to fulfill-
ment. He walked up at this moment from the
kettle-hanging, and looked in at the open door.
He was "behaving so well," the girls thought; not
putting himself where he did not belong. But
then, what could one strange boy do, among all
of them ? They were not at all in doubt of their
veritable and suf-
ficient terribleness,
-these little wom-
en in their millin-
Sery and manners
O Master
Royd !" exclaimed
proper Miss Po-
sackley. They
have gone down
there-half a doz-
en of them. Where
do you suppose that
underground way
leads? They seem
to be quite out of
hearing. I amvery
much concerned."
They say," re-
turned Neal, with
great gravity and
weight of manner, "that there 's a steep un-
derground way to the river. But I should
think it could n't be very safe; it must be


very 'blind,' anyhow. I '11 see what I can find
out."
And he dropped himself down into the black-
ness, where he stooped and peered about; then








-. .
T.





kt
te.'' .N-.'40





S' -



moved with apparent caution away from the open-
ing, and out of sight.
The place is as still as death," he called back
from beneath. It 's very curious."
Oh, what shall we do ?" cried Miss Posackley,
in terror.
"If they only come out at the other end, it'll
be all right. But if they get down anywhere
and can't get up
again; or get stuck
in the middle-I
declare! here is a
hole! "
"Miss Posack-
ley," he said, re-
turning to the trap,
"I think you 'd
better just step
down here your-
self." A queer little
smothered sound
interrupted him.
"Hark! I thought
I heard something.
I really don't be-
lieve they can have
got far. If you -- -
would, just come -- -
down,-it is n't at
all bad here,-and call to them,-they would n't
mind me, you know,-it would be the best thing.
And then you would have done all you could,


394


[MARCH,







HER NAME.


you see; and if you want me to, I '11 try the
burrow."
Oh, how can I ?" faltered poor, shocked Miss
Posackley, wringing her hands over the chasm.
You '11 have to be quick, I 'm afraid," urged
Neal, mercilessly solemn.
Go back, young ladies," commanded Miss
Posackley, to the rear squad, who huddled about
her, divided between frightened faith and most
diverted skepticism. Go down to the big fiat,
and wait for me. Oh, how can I ever? "
Oh, what a lark laughed out Kitty Sharrod,
the minute she was outside, and turning short
around to look in through the great doorway.
" Can't she see it 's nothing but a lark all 'round ?
I 'd give a coach and horses to be down there !
She called me just as I was over the edge. It
just stopped at me,- my luck! She's actually
gone down !-How do you suppose she will come
up again ?" the girl added, slowly and sepul-
chrally, to her companions, who lingered, not
knowing whether to laugh or cry.
Come back and see it out! She wont mind,
now she 's down, and thinks we did n't see her go. -


Do take care, Miss Posackley We can't go off
and leave you there You '11 want us to help
you up again," shouted Kitty, leaning boldly
down the trap.
A match flashed below; Neal held it right
above Miss Posackley's head. Kitty Sharrod,
gazing after its illumination, saw what Miss Po-
sackley also saw,-a row of crouching figures,
two or three feet apart, each with hands on knees,
flat against the low, rough wall of the far side.
From the motionless rank burst a sudden, laugh-
ing salute.
Miss Fidelia's position before them, alone, would
have been like that of a general at a review.
Only, she had to crouch also, which impaired the
dignity, and made the tableau irresistible. The
floor was not more than four and a half feet-in-
stead of five or six-from the ground below.
Neal Royd struck a light again,- a whole card
of matches.
Wont they get it ?" exclaimed Kitty Sharrod,
in an excited whisper, clapping noiseless hands.
" But I 'd give a Newport cottage to be there, and
to see her face "


(To be concluded.)


HER NAME.

BY MRS. L. P. WHEELER.

IN search, from A to Z, they passed,
And "Marguerita" chose at last,-
But thought it sounded far more sweet
To call the baby Marguerite."
When Grandma saw the little pet,
She called her "darling Margaret."
Next, Uncle Jack and Cousin Aggie
Sent cup and spoon to "little Maggie."
And Grandpapa the right must beg
To call the lassie "bonnie Meg."-
(From "Marguerita" down to "Meg"!)
And now she 's simply "little Peg."







THE BROWNIES' BALLOON.


THE BROWNIES' BALLOON.

BY PALMER COX.


WHILE rambling through the forest shade,
A sudden halt some Brownies made;
For spread about on bush and ground
An old balloon at rest they found,
That while upon some flying trip
Had given aeronauts the slip,
And, falling here in foliage green,
Through all the summer lay unseen.
Awhile they walked around to stare
Upon the monster lying there,
And when they learned the use and plan
Of valves and ropes, the rogues began
To lay their schemes and name a night
When all could take an airy flight.
"We want," said one, "no tame affair,
Like some that rise with heated air,
And hardly clear the chimney-top
Before they lose their life and drop.
The bag with gas must be supplied,
That will insure a lengthy ride;
When we set sail 't is not to fly
Above a spire and call it high.
The boat, or basket, must be strong,
Designed to take the crowd along;


For that which leaves a part behind
Would hardly suit the Brownie mind.
The works that serve the town of Bray
With gas are scarce two miles away.
To-morrow night we '11 come and bear,
As best we can, this burden there;
And when inflated, fit to rise,
We '11 take a sail around the skies."


Next evening, as the scheme was planned,
The Brownies promptly were on hand;
For when some pleasure lies in view,
The absentees 'are always few.
But 't was no easy task to haul
The old balloon, car, ropes and all,
Across the rocks and fallen trees
And through the marshes to their knees.
But Brownies, persevering still,
Will keep their course through every ill,
And in the main, as history shows,
Succeed in aught they do propose.
And though it cost them rather dear,
In scratches there and tumbles here,


[MARCH,







THE BROWNIES'


They worked until the wondrous feat
Of transportation was complete.

Then while some busy fingers played
Around the rents that branches made,
An extra coil of rope was tied
In long festoons around the side,
That all the party, young and old,
Might either find a seat or hold.
And while they worked, they chatted free
About the wonders they would see.
Said one: "As smoothly as a kite,
We '11 rise above the clouds to-night,
And may the question
settle soon,
About the surface of the
moon."
Now all was ready for
the gas, -
And soon the lank and
tangled mass
Began to flop about and
rise, -
As though impatient for
the skies;
Then was there work for
every hand .-
That could be mustered -_
in the band,
To keep the growing -,
monster low
Until they stood prepared -'~' 4
to go;
To this and that they
made it fast, .
Round stones and stakes
the rope was cast; 'is
But strong it grew, and -
stronger still, 4
As every wrinkle seemed "''
to fill;
And when at last it
bounded clear,
And started on its wild
career, -.
A rooted stump and gar-
den gate,
It carried off as special
freight.
Though all the Brownies went, a part
Were not in proper shape to start;
Arrangements hardly were complete,
Some wanted room and more a seat,
While some in acrobatic style
Must put their trust in toes awhile.
But Brownies are not hard to please,
And soon they rested at their ease;


BALLOON. 397

Some found support, both safe and strong,
Upon the gate that went along,
By some the stump was utilized,
And furnished seats they highly prized.
Now, as they rose, they ran afoul
Of screaming hawk and hooting owl,
And flitting bats that hooked their wings
At once around the ropes and strings,
As though content to there abide
And take the chances of the ride.
On passing through a heavy cloud,
One thus addressed the moistened crowd:


B* ~--i-j"I-. iiI-
'I, -,i
1. N('
1' '~r
-I -


" Although the earth, from which we rise,
Now many miles below us lies,
To sharpest eye, strain as it may,
The moon looks just as far away."
" The earth is good enough for me "
Another said, "with grassy lea,
And shady groves, of songsters full.-
Will some one give the valve a pull?"







THE BROWNIES' BALLOON.


And soon they all were well ,
co .:,.i. '.
T o i 1 1 ,, ..., ,,,l .1.. -.::, t. 111 '


to .
The- i. .. : '
tl,.. -- -- ,' .i
'- -._-
T he u .,... :..,.. I -... ,

at. ri .
Th --



-4
Atl -- I



--- --?--:S ---:- ? -"" ,
-
--- : . g r "~ ; - __ -- y 7 -


,- r . . : -
. ., -


And more to volunteer
g out ,' to view



Whatpartof earth their
wreck would strew,
.. ^ I *'.'; '











A marshy plain, a
rocky shore,
Or ocean with its sul-
len roar.
It happened as they
neared the ground,
A rushing gale was
sweeping round,
That caught and car-
A marshy plain, a






ried toen with speed

Across the forest and



the mead.
A rushing gale was
sweeping round,
That caught and cate-
ried them with speed
Across the forest and
the mead.

Then lively catching
might be seen


At cedar tops and
branches green;
While still the stump
behind them swung,
On this it caught, to
that it hung,
And, as an anchor,
played a part
They little thought of
at the start.
At length, in spite of
sweeping blast,
Some friendly branch-
es held them fast:
And then, descend-
ing, safe and sound,
The daring Brownies
reached the ground.
But in the tree-top on
the hill
The old balloon is
hanging still,
Relieving farmers on
the plain
From placing scare-
crows in their grain.


~~AJ' i
-'I.
1 -' .' 'I -


ii I..


-7l. 4 ''J 'I" IL i





1cA -. 'r-U--- i 01


I- ~ dc_


`I ~


*~_ ..~ .i 1


398


[MARCH,







WINTER FUN. 399





WINTER FUN.

BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD.


CHAPTER V.

THE Stebbins farm was not a large one, and
neither its house nor barn compared well with
Deacon Farnham's; but there was a good deal to
be done in and around them on a winter morn-
ing. Vosh was a busy boy, therefore, at the be-
ginning of the day, and his mother was a busy
woman, and it was not until an hour after breakfast,
on the day following the events recorded in our
last chapter, that she said to him: "Now, Lavaujer,
I want you to drive me, in your new red cutter, to
Benton Village, and if I can't find what I want
there, I'm goin' right on to Cobbleville."
Vosh had been thinking up a series of excuses
for going over to the Farnham's, but he made no
mention of them, and it was a credit to him that
his new turn-out was so soon standing, all ready,
by the front gate.
It was not a bad idea that his first long drive in
it should be with his mother; but a number of
surprises awaited him that day.
The first came in the fact that his mother was
unaccountably silent, and that whenever she did
open her lips she had something to say about
economy. Then she talked a little of the wicked-
ness and vanity of buying or wearing anything
"just for show." City people, she freely declared,
were doing that very thing all the while, and she
was glad that no one could accuse her of it.
Vosh was quite sure that her remarks were sen-
sible, but he could not help being rather glad,
when they drove by Deacon Farnham's and he
saw the girls at the window, that his cutter was of
so bright a red and so remarkably well varnished.
Benton Village was down in the valley, and the
sorrel colt covered the distance in so short a time
that it seemed only the beginning of a ride. Mrs.
Stebbins said as much, after she had bought some
tea and sugar at one store and some raisins and
coffee at another.
They have n't what I want, Lavaujer. You can
drive right along to Cobbleville. There never was
better sleighin', not even when I was a girl."
That was a gracious admission for her to make,
and Vosh put the colt to his very best speed along
.the well-traveled road to Cobbleville. And, all
the way, Mrs. Stebbins was strangely silent.
Where shall I pull up, mother ? asked Vosh,
as they turned into the main street of the village.


You can make your first stop at old Gillis's
harness shop yonder. I want to look at some o'
the things in his big show-case."
Vosh was out of that cutter and had his colt
tied to the post in front of Gillis's in about half his
usual time for hitching.
Lavaujer," said his mother, as she paused on
the sidewalk, "don't ever buy a thing just-for
show. You must n't let your vanity get the best
of you."
Five minutes later, she was holding in her right
hand a very useful string of sleigh-bells, and say-
ing to him:
Now, Lavaujer, if you're ever driving' along
after dark, you wont be run into. Anybody'll
know you 're there by the jingle o' those bells.
And I '11 feel safer about you."
Vosh thought he had not often seen less vanity
in anything than there was in those bells, and he
was thinking of going right out to put them on the
sorrel, when his mother exclaimed:
"There That's what I've been looking' for.
That red horse-blanket, with the blue border and
the fringe. Jest tell me the price of it."
Singularly enough, it happened to be the best
blanket in the shop, and she said to her son:
"I don't know but it's too showy. But I s'pose
we can't exactly help that. Anyhow, it wont do for
you to let that colt of yours git warm with a hard
run, and then catch cold when you hitch him.
You must take care of him, and see that he has
his blanket on. You'll find it useful."
Guess I will!-" said Vosh, with a queer feeling
that he ought to say something grateful and did n't
know how. He was thinking about it, when his
mother said to him:
That headstall of yours is cracked and the
check-tein might break some day. The rest of
your harness '11 do for a while. But it's always safe
to have your colt's head-leather in good condition."
No doubt, and the sorrel colt was a different-
looking animal when Vosh exchanged the head-
gear and check-rein for the new rig that the care-
ful Mrs. Stebbins bought for him.
"Now, Vosh, there is n't anything else I want
in Cobbleville, but you may drive through the
main street, and we '11 take a look at the town, as
we have n't been here for a good while."
He unhitched the colt and sprang in after her.
The new headstall, check-rein, and the bells were







WINTER F-UN


already in their places. The brilliant blanket was
spread across their laps, as they sat in the cutter.
Vosh touched up the sorrel, and all the Cobbleville
people who saw them dash up the street for half a
mile, and back again, were compelled to admit
that it was decidedly a neat turn-out.
"Now, Lavaujer," said his mother, "don't ever
do anything jest for show. But I feel better satis-
fied to know that if you want to take Judith Farn-
ham, or her sister, or Penelope, or Susie Hudson
out a-sleighin', they wont need to feel badly over
the cutter you invite 'em into."
They all had been talking of Vosh and his
mother that morning at Deacon Farnham's, and it
was'plain that the good qualities of the Stebbins
family were, fully understood by their next-door
neighbors. The boys hoped Vosh would come
over in the course of the day, but he did not; and
the next day was Saturday, and still he did not
come. He was at work in his own barn, shelling
corn for dear life, to let his mother know how fully
he appreciated her generosity. He felt that it would
take an immense deal of corn-shelling to express
all he felt about the bells and the blanket, not to
speak of the bright bits of new harness.
The next day was Sunday, and Deacon Farn-
ham's entire household went to meeting, at Ben-
ton Village. Vosh was in the choir, as usual,
and was covered with confusion when he accident-
ally started on the wrong stanza of the hymn they
were singing, and so found himself "looked at"
by the choir leader.
The next day, just after tea, Vosh came over
"to have a word with Deacon Farnham," and
he had an errand of some importance this time.
Corry and Porter stood by, while he explained it,
and before he had said many words they became
deeply interested. He was just inside the kitchen-
door, and Susie and Pen were sitting on the other
side of the stove, paring apples. *
A man came by to-day from one of the lumber
camps, 'way up among the mountains," said Vosh.
"He was on his way to town for supplies and
things. He says the road to Mink Lake 's in prime
condition for a sleigh-ride."
"All the way?" asked the deacon, somewhat
doubtfully.
"Every inch of it. I asked him. Now, why
could n't we all go in for a mess of pickerel ?"
"And a grand sleigh-ride," exclaimed Corry.
"And an old-fashioned winter picnic," added
Aunt Sarah Farnham. "How would you like
that, Susie?"
"A winter picnic? I never heard of such a
thing. How do you manage it ? I should like to
see a winter picnic "
"A picnic! A picnic!" shouted Pen. "Fish-


ing through the ice, Susie, and-and-there are
ever so many other things. Mother, can we go ? "
Vosh Stebbins had spoken only about the pick-
erel, but the larger enterprise was what really had
been upon his mind. And, before he went home,
it had been thoroughly discussed, and an expedition
to Mink Lake determined upon.
"Corry," said Port, after Vosh went away,
" what sort of a place is Mink Lake ? "
"It's the prettiest lake in these parts, and a
great place in summer. Just crowded with fish."
Is it far? queried Port.
"About eight or nine miles, through the woods,
and around among the mountains. The road to it
is one of the crookedest you ever saw. It 's apt to
be snowed up in winter; but we have n't had any
deep snow yet, and there are no big drifts,"
answered Corry.
"What kind of fish can be caught there ? Trout?"
Yes, there are trout, but there are more bass
and pickerel and perch. You 're liable to be
bothered with pumpkin-seeds in summer."
Port was silent. He wanted to ask about the
pumpkins, and how the seeds could bother a fellow
when he was fishing for trout. After a minute or
two, he uttered one word:
"Pumpkin-seeds ? "
"Hosts of them. They 're the meanest kind of
fish. Bite, bite, bite, and you keep pulling 'em
in, when all the while you want something bigger."
Can't you eat them ?" Port wanted to know.
"Yes, they 're good to fry, but they 're full of
bones."
They wont bite in winter, will they ?"
I hope not. But I 'm sure of one thing, Port.
We 're in for a glorious time."
That was an exciting evening. Nobody seemed
to wish to go to bed, and the semicircle around
the fire-place talked, for more than two hours,
about fishing and hunting. Deacon Farnham
himself related some stories that Aunt Judith said
she had n't heard him tell for more than a year.
Porter and Susie had no stories to tell, but they
could listen. The former went to bed, at last, with
a vague feeling that he would rather go to Mink
Lake. It was a good while before he fell asleep,
and even then he had a wonderful dream. He
dreamed he was trying to pull a fish, as large as a
small whale, through a sort of auger-hole in some
ice. He pulled so hard that he woke himself up;
but he could roll over and go to sleep soundly,
now that the fish was gone.
The house was astir early in the morning, and
Deacon Farnham's long, low box-sleigh, drawn.
by his two big black horses, was at the door by
the time they were through breakfast. Mrs. Farn-
ham had decided not to go, because, as she said:


400


[MARCH,







WINTER FUN.


It 's Judith's turn; and somebody must stay
and keep house."
It had required some argument to persuade
Aunt Judith that it was her duty to go, but she
had taken hold of the preparations with a will.
It was wonderful what an amount of wrapping-
up she deemed needful for herself and all the rest.
Why, Judith," said the deacon, it's a good
deal warmer up there in the woods than it is down


h


You can't shoot fish," said Susie.
We may shoot something else," said Vosh.
" There 's no telling. It's a wild place."
"Susie," exclaimed Pen, "did n't we tell you
that there are deer up at Mink Lake ? Real deer? "
"Corry," whispered Port, let's get one be-
fore we come home."
"Father has his gun by him, all ready for deer,
if we should see any," replied Corry; but he wont


ere." let us take ours out till we reach the lake. He may
"I 've heard so, and may be it's true ; but I don't get a shot at something, though, as he drives along."


F -


VI P


Iii'
I *


FISHING THROUGH THE ICE FOR PICKEREL. (SEE PACE 404.)


put any trust in the saying. I 've no wish to be
frost-bitten before I get back," was her reply.
There was little to be feared from the frost, with
all the buffalo-robes and blankets and shawls and
cloaks that were piled into the sleigh.
When its passengers were in, they made quite a
party. There was the deacon,-who insisted on
driving,-and Aunt Judith, and Mrs. Stebbins, and
Vosh, and Corry, and Susie Hudson and Porter,
and Penelope, besides all the baskets of luncheon,
the fishing-tackle, axes, and guns, in the sleigh,
with Ponto all around outside of it.


There was a sharp lookout for all kinds of wild
animals, after the way began to wind among the
piney woods, and through the desolate-looking
"clearings left by the choppers. The road was
found even better than Vosh's news had reported
it, and the black team pulled their merry load
along quite easily.
The young folk soon got over the solemn feel-
ing which came upon them when they found them-
selves actually in the great forest. It was delightful
to shout and listen for echoes, and to sing and
whistle, with the knowledge that there was not a







WINTER FUN.


living person to hear them, except those in the
sleigh.
It was about two hours after they left the farm-
house, and Port had just remarked:
"Seems to me we 've been going up hill all the
time," when Corry suddenly exclaimed:
There it is! That's Mink Lake It '11 be down
hill all the way going home. See it,?"
Where ? said Port. I don't see any lake. 0
yes, I do It's all ice and snow. Frozen clean over."
"And we have n't seen a single deer yet," said
Susie, sorrowfully.
"You can see some now, then," replied Vosh,
as he eagerly pointed forward. See 'em, Port?
Yonder !- on the ice "
"I see ihem," shouted Pen. One, two, three,
four !"
Those black specks? said Susie.
There they were, indeed, and theywere beginning
to move rapidly across the ice ; but they were so far
away that Susie couldjust make out what they were.
Even Ponto continued to plod along soberly behind
the sleigh. He was too old a dog to excite himself
over any such distant and unattainable game as that.
Deacon Farnham seemed to know exactly where
to go, for he drove straight on, when nobody
else could see any road, until he stopped in front
of a very small and very rudely built house.
"Aunt Judith," asked Susie, "did anybody
ever live here ? "
Live here, child? Why, that's a chopper's
shanty. And it 's for anybody who wants it, now
they've done with it."
That was so, but it was not for the mere human
beings of the picnic party. The deacon took his
horses from the sleigh and led them in through
the rickety door. "They 're a little warm," he
said, "but they wont catch cold in there. I'll
give 'em a good feed, Vosh, while you're starting
a fire. Get the guns and tackle out, Corry."
. Vosh had had a hard struggle with himself that
morning to leave his own horse and cutter at home,
but his mother had settled it for him. She remarked:
I 'd rather be in the big sleigh, with the folks,
so I can hear what's going on. So would Susie Hud-
son or Judith Farnham, I 'm sure, and so you 'd be
lonely in your cutter. Besides, the little cutter
itself would upset a dozen times an hour on those
mountain roads."
He was ready with his axe now, and Porter
Hudson opened his eyes with amazement to see
how soon a great fire was blazing on the snow, a
little distance from the shanty.
What are we to get into ?" asked Port.
"We don't want any shelter, when we 're on a
winter picnic," said Aunt Judith. "We can eat
our dinner in the sleigh."


They were not yet thinking of eating. The
first business on hand was a trip to the lake. Vosh
Stebbins took his axe with him, and he and the
deacon each carried a long, wide board. Port
managed not to ask what these were for, and he
had not a great while to wait before he discovered.
"Vosh," said the deacon, "the ice must be
-pretty thick. Hope we sha' n't have to chop a
hole."
There 's one air-hole, away yonder. It does
n't look too wide," suggested Vosh.
I should n't wonder if it would do," assented
Deacon Farnham.
Susie," said Pen, don't you know? That 's
where all the fish come up to the top to get a
breath of fresh air."
There was some truth in Pen's explanation, in
spite of the laugh she got from Mrs. Stebbins.
Susie said nothing, for she was intent at that
moment. She thought she had never seen any-
thing more strange or more beautiful than that
little lake, all frozen, with the hills around it and
the mountains beyond them. The broken slopes
of the hills and mountains were covered with white
snow, green pines, spruces, and hemlocks, and
with the brownish gray of the other trees, the
leaves of which had fallen from them. It was very
wonderful and new to a young lady from the city.
Almost half the lake," said Vosh, is smooth
enough to skate on. If I had thought of that,
.I would have brought my skates along."
It would have been worth their while. Mink
Lake was what some people call a pond," and
was scarcely a mile wide by an irregular mile and
a half long. There was an immense skating
"rink" there now, in spite of the snow which
covered a large part of it.
Susie was just about to ask some more ques-
tions, when her uncle shouted:
"This will do, Vosh. Bring along your slide."
That was the board he was carrying, and its use
was plain now. The air-hole was an opening in
the ice, not more than two feet across, but the ice
was thin at the edges of it. A heavy man or a
busy one might break through and find himself in
a cold bath; but when those two slides" were
slipped along on either side of the hole, any one
could walk out on one of them and drop in a hook
and line safely enough.
"There, Susie," said Pen, "now we can keep
our feet dry while we catch our fish."
"Now, folks!" exclaimed the deacon,-" Two
at a time. We 'll take turns."
Your turn 's good till you 've hooked a fish,"
said Vosh to Porter, as he handed him a line.
"You and your uncle try first."
It seemed very easy, as it was nothing more


402


[MARCH,







1884. WINTER FUN.


than to stand on a dry board and drop a line, with
a baited hook at the end of it, through a hole in
the ice. And the fish were not slow to respond.
Father father! shouted Pen, in a few mo-
ments. You've hooked one "
A sort of electric shock went through the entire
"picnic," as the deacon
jerked out a gleaming, -_i
struggling fish. But he -
did not seem delighted. ,-
with his catch.
"Nothing buta perch! .
He'sa pound and a quar- .
ter, though. Here, Mrs. '. ,
Stebbins, take that other .i -
line and see what you can .' '" '
do," said the deacon. ',
Mrs. Stebbins had talk- '
ed quite industriously all .'
the way, and even after
they went upon the ice,
but she was silent the I ; ..
moment she took hold of'
the line. Just after it I' :- i
touched the water, Por-
ter Hudson exclaimed:
"Corry! Corry! "
"Pull, Port! Pull! I
You 've a big fellow !"
"So have I," cried
Mrs. Stebbins. "Dea- .-i.
con! Vosh! Come!-
help me "
"Pen," said Susie,
" could it pull her
through the hole ?" .
Why, Susie! -- .
Pen's eyes and mouth
were wide open, for both
her cousin and Mrs.
Stebbins were leaning -
back, and it seemed as
if something down below
was trying to jerk them !
through the ice.
Wind it'round your
wrist, Port," said Corry. '
" Don't let go !"
Well, Mother," said
Vosh, as he took hold "voSH S PRA FOi
of her line,, I declare,


you have hooked a good one, and no mistake.
But I think I '11 have to pull it in for you."
It seemed to cost him hardly an effort to bring a
great three-pound pickerel through the hole and
sling it out upon the ice, saying, with a little
pardonable pride:


That 's better than a perch, Deacon."
"Shall I help you, Port ? asked Corry.
"No, sir-e-e-e I '11 bring in my own fish."
Hand over hand! Don't let him get away
from you."
Port's blood was up, since he had seen the other


- I : '`" "-=~



I.~*L
-4 p !I*I
W~


S'' : ''
-.;.




;WARD AND FIRED THE SECOND BARREL OF HIS GUN."

pickerel landed, and he pulled with all his might.
Now lift," said Vosh. Don't let him rub his
nose against the ice, or he '11 break loose. Don't
lean over too far. That 's it."
It was an exciting moment, and Port followed the
directions given him, although his heart was beat-








404 WINTER FUN. [MARCH,


ing quickly, and he thought he had never lifted
anything quite so heavy as that fish. But as the
gleaming burden appeared above water, his captor
grew triumphant, and shouted:
Up we come !"
Hurrah for Port," said Aunt Judith. "The
biggest one yet."
So it was, and a proud boy was Porter Hudson
when Deacon Farnham declared that the great
fish the lad had fought so hard for was "a seven-
pound pickerel."
"Now, Aunt Judith, it 's your turn," said Port.
"Mine, Port? Why, what could I do with a
creetur like that?"
"I 'll help you, if you get a big one. Here 's
your line. You must try."
She had to be coaxed a little more; but she con-
sented, and Susie took the other line. The fish
were biting hungrily, for in less than a minute
Aunt Judith gave a little scream and a jerk, and
began to pull in her line. Then another little
scream, and another jerk, and then:
Perch !" exclaimed Aunt Judith. I'm glad
it was n't a pickerel Penelope, you can catch
the rest of my fish for me. I '11 look on."
Susie's face grew almost pale, as she stood there
with her line in her hand, waiting for something
to pull on it.
Do they nibble first, Vosh? "
Hardly were the words out of her mouth before
the line was suddenly jerked away from her. Vosh
had just time to catch hold of the piece of wood
that it was wound upon.
I 've lost it I 've lost it! exclaimed Susie.
No, you have n't; but he's running pretty
well," said Vosh. The line would have cut your
fingers if you had tried to hold it."
Susie's soft, white hands were hardly suited to
work of that sort, indeed, and they were already
becoming a little cold. She was quite willing to
pick up her muff and slip them into it while Vosh
pulled in her pickerel for her. It was a fine one,
too; only a little less in weight than Porter's.
Pen had now taken the line from Aunt Judith,
and she dropped her hook in, very confidently.
There is n't a scrap of bait on it," said Corry.
"Is n't there? I forgot that. Just wait a
minute and then I '11 let you bait it for me."
Corry and the rest began to laugh, but Pen
shouted again :
"Wait !- He 's nibbling Now he's biting!
Oh, he's bit it "
So he had, bait or no bait, and Pen was quite
strong enough to pull up a very handsome perch,
without help from anybody.
After that, Deacon Farnham and the boys had
all the fishing to themselves. It was well there


was enough of it to make it exciting, for it was wet,
cold, chilly work. The fish were of several sorts
and all sizes, and some of them rubbed themselves
free against the icy edges of the hole in spite of
all that could be done. But, before noon, there was
a considerable heap of them lying on the ice, and
the fun of catching them had lost a little of its
power to keep the cold away.
Long before the fishermen decided that they had
caught enough, however, Mrs. Stebbins and Aunt
Judith and the girls became tired of looking on, and
set out across the ice toward the sleigh and the very
attractive-looking fire. The latter had been well
heaped up at first and was now blazing vigorously.
"We must have a good dinner for them,"
said Aunt Judith, as she turned away. "All the
fish they can eat."
You carry one," said Mrs. Stebbins. I '11
take a couple more. The girls can help. We '11
fry 'em, and we '11 roast 'em in the ashes."
She tried to think of some other way, but she
could not. She and Aunt Judith were excellent
cooks, and knew just what to do with fresh fish
and such a fire. It was by no means their first
picnic, either, and the proper cooking utensils had
not been left at home. Susie and Pen entered
into the spirit of the affair with a good deal of
enthusiasm, but they were quite contented to let
the more experienced cooks do the cooking.
There was plenty to do, and when at last the
fishermen gave up dropping lines through the
air-hole, and came plodding slowly back across
the ice, there was all the dinner they could reason-
ably ask for, hot and smoking and ready for them.
Each was dragging a goodly string of fish after
him, and all brought hearty appetites to the
tempting "spread !"
There was hot coffee to be drank out of tin cups,
fish in two styles of cookery, crisply fried pork,
roasted potatoes, bread and butter, and last of all
was some cold meat that no one seemed to care for.
Will there be any dessert ?" asked Port.
"Aunt Judith has some mince pies warming on
the log by the fire," said Pen.
"What dinner for the woods! exclaimed Susie.
"Woods?" said Corry, "why, the choppers
have fresh fish and potatoes and coffee all the
while, and sometimes they have venison."
"Game," said Port, but no pie."
"Vosh," said Susie, "what has become of all
those deer you were going to get ?"
Just at that moment, they heard old Ponto bark-
ing away at a great rate, in the woods near by,
and Vosh sprang up, exclaiming:
He 's treed something "
"Yes, he has," said the deacon. Get your
guns, boys. Load with buckshot."


404


WINTER FUN.


[MARCH,







1884.]


WINTI


Mine 's loaded," said Vosh.
"Mine '11 be ready in a minute," said Corry.
"Hurry, Port."
Wait a minute," said the deacon. 'We all
must have a share in the hunt."
It seemed to Susie and Pen that they could
hardly wait for those two guns to be loaded, and
Mrs. Stebbins exclaimed:
Judith, I do hate a gun, but I 'm going with
them."
So am I," replied Aunt Judith.
Ponto must have shared in the general impa-
tience, to judge by the noise he was making, and
now there came another and a very curious sound
from that direction.
It 's a baby crying," said Pen.
Or a cat -" began Port.
Sakes alive exclaimed Mrs. Stebbins. I
do believe the critter 's gone and treed a wild cat."
You 're right," said the deacon. I 'm sure
it's a wild cat."
They all kept together, as they waded through
the snow to a spot about twenty rods into the
woods, from which they could see old Ponto
bounding hither and thither around the trunk of
a tall maple tree, that stood by itself in the middle
of an open space in the forest.
There was no other tree handy for it to jump
into," said Vosh. And there it is."
"Where?" asked Aunt Judith.
See it ? Up there on that big, lower limb ?"
It's forty feet from the ground," said the dea-
con. "Come on, boys. All the rest stay here."
Oh, Pen," said Susie, "I do believe I 'm
afraid. Will it jump?"
They '11 shoot it, and Ponto will grab it when
it falls," said Pen.
No, he wont," said Corry. That wild cat
would soon beat off one dog. He'd be too much
for Ponto."
There was little doubt of that, for it was a wild
cat of the very largest size. Not so dangerous
an animal as the "panther," but a terrible foe,
nevertheless.
It seemed even larger than it really was, as it
drew itself up, on the long, bare limb of the tree,
and looked savagely down upon its barking enemy.
It may be that the smell of the cookery, par-
ticularly of the fish, had tempted it so near the
picnic. Thus Ponto had scented the cat, in turn,
and had chased it into that solitary tree.
"Now, boys," said Deacon Farnham, "all
around the tree. Fire as soon as you can after I
do, but don't fire both barrels of your guns."
Porter Hudson knew he was not one bit scared,


ER FUN. 405


and wondered why he should shake so, when he
tried to lift his gun and take aim. He was sure he
could not shoot straight, and hoped that the shot
would scatter well.
Now, boys "
Bang went the deacon's gun, and the other
three followed, almost en the instant. But the
wild cat replied with an angry scream, and began
to tear the bark of the limb with its sharp, strong
claws.
A moment later, however, it suddenly gathered
itself for a spring at the spot, nearly under it,
where Ponto was barking. Alas for the great cat
of the woods Too many buckshot had struck it,
and it fell short short of its mark, in the snow.
Vosh had been watching, and he was nearest.
Hardly did the wounded animal reach the snow
before Susie saw Vosh spring forward and. fire the
second barrel of his gun.
No more shots were required. Corry ran for-
ward, and Porter after him, and the deacon fol-
lowed, but Ponto was ahead of them all, and it
would not do to fire at any risk of shooting the
brave old dog. But there was no fight left in the
wild cat by the time Ponto attacked it.
"Drop it, Ponto. Drop it," said the deacon;
I don't want that skin spoiled. It's a fine one."
The wild cat was killed now without a doubt,
however, and Vosh could carry it to the sleigh,
and they could all go back and eat more pie, and
talk about bears and wolves and panthers, till the
two girls felt like looking around at the woods to
see if any intruders of that sort were coming.
"We don't need any more fish," said Aunt Ju-
dith. "We 've more than enough for the whole
neighborhood."
"Well, it looks some like a snow-storm," said
the deacon. "We 'd best be packing up for
home."
Even that was grand fun, but it seemed almost
a pity to leave so good a fire behind, to burn itself
out alone there, in the snow, with no merry party
to sit around it and tell stories.
If the road had been "all up hill," coming to
the lake, it was just as much all down hill, going
home again, and the homeward ride was almost as
good as any other part of the picnic.
They all thought so, until they reached the farm-
house and found what a fine supper Mrs. Farnham
had prepared for them. And they all wondered,
afterward, how it was possible that they should
have been so ravenously hungry twice on the
same day.
"Well, picnics always make people hungry,"
said Pen, which statement nobody else denied.


(To be continued.)







HISTORIC BOYS.


HISTORIC BOYS.*

BY E. S. BROOKS,
(A a/hor of The Field of the Cloth of Gold" and Comedies for Children.")


II.
GIOVANNI OF FLORENCE, THE BOY CARDINAL.
(Afterward Pope Leo X.)
IT was one of the wild carnival days of 1490.
From the great gate of San Gallo to the quaint
old bridge of the goldsmiths, the fair city of Flor-
ence blazed with light and rang with shout and
song. A struggling mass of spectators surged
about the noble palace of the Medici, as out
through its open gate-way and up the broad street
known as the Via Larga streamed the great carni-
val pageant of Lorenzo the Magnificent, the head
of the house of Medici.
Room for the noble Abbot of Passignano!
room for My Lord Cardinal "shouted a fresh young
voice from the head of the grand staircase that led
from the loggia of the palace to the great entrance-
hall below.
"So; say'st thou thus, Giulio ?" another boyish
voice exclaimed. "Then will I, too, play the
herald for thee. Room," he cried, for the worthy
Prior of Capua! room for the noble Knight of St.
John And down the broad staircase, thronged
with gallant costumes, brilliant banners, and gleam-
ing lances, the two merry boys elbowed their way.
Boys? you ask. Yes, boys-both of them, for
all their lofty and high-sounding titles. In those
far-off days, when royalty married royalty at ten
and twelve, and Lord High Admirals wore bib and
tucker, there was nothing so very wonderful in a
noble prior of eleven or a lord cardinal of thirteen.
"Well, well, my modest young Florentines,"
said Lorenzo, in his harsh but not unkindly voice,
as he met the boys in the grand and splendidly
decorated entrance-hall; if ye do but make your
ways in life with such determination as that, all
offices must needs yield to you. A truce to tattle,
though, my fair Giulio. Modesty best becomes
the young. Remember, Giovanni's cardinalate
has not yet been proclaimed, and 't is wisest to
hold our tongues till we may wag them truthfully.
But, come," he added in a livelier tone, "to
horse, to horse i the Triumph waits for none. To-
night be ye boys only. Ho, for fun and frolic;
down with care and trouble! And humming a
glee from one of his own gay carnival songs,
Lorenzo the Magnificent sprang to the back of his


noble Barbary horse, Morello, and spurred for-
ward to mingle in the glories of the pageant.
It was a wondrous display-this carnival pag-
eant, or "Triumph," of the Medici. Great golden
cars, richly decorated, and drawn by curious beasts,
horses dressed in the skins of lions and tigers and
elephants; shaggy buffaloes and timorous giraffes
from the Medicean villa at Careggi; fantastic
monsters made up of mingled men and boys and
horses, with other surprising figures as riders;
dragons and dwarfs, giants and genii; beautiful
young girls and boys dressed in antique costumes
to represent goddesses and diviniities of the old
mythologies; these and many other attractions
united in the glittering display which, accompanied
by Lorenzo the Magnificent and his retinue of
over five hundred persons, "mounted, masked,
and bravely appareled," and gleaming in the light
of four hundred flaring torches, traversed the
streets of Florence, "singing in many voices all
sorts of canzones, madrigals, and.popular songs."
"By the stone nose of the marzoccho, f but this
is more joyous than the droning tasks we left
behind us at Pisa; is it not, my Giovanni? gayly
exclaimed the younger of the two boys as, glitter-
ing in a suit of crimson velvet and cloth of gold, he
rode in advance of one of the great triumphal cars.
"My faith," he continued, "what would good Fra
Bartolommeo say could he see thee, his choicest
pupil, masking in a violet velvet suit and a gold-
brocaded vest ? "
I fear me, Giulio," replied his cousin Giovanni,
a pleasant, brown-faced lad of nearly fourteen,
" I fear me the good Fra would pull a long and
chiding face at both our brave displays. You know
how he can look when he takes us to task? And
tall! Why, he seems always to grow as high as
Giotto's tower there."
Say, rather, like to the leaning tower in his
own Pisa for he seems as tall, and threatens to
come down full as sure and heavily upon us poor
unfortunates! Ah, yes, I know how he looks,
Giovanni; he tries it upon me full often and
Giulio's laugh of recollection was tempered with
feeling memories.
Here an older boy, a brisk young fellow of six-
teen, in a shining suit of silver and crimson bro-
cade, rode toward them.


Copyright, 1883, by E. S. Brooks. All rights reserved.
t The marzoccho was the great stone lion of the Palazzo Vecchio-- the City Hall of Florence.


406


[MARCH,







HISTORIC BOYS.


Messer Giovanni," he said, "what say'st thou
to dropping out of the Triumph here by the Vec-
chio Palace ? Then may we go back by the Via
Pinti and see the cafannucci."
Now, the capannucci was one of the peculiar
carnival institutions of the Florentine boys of old,
as dear to their hearts as is the election-night bon-
fire to our young New Yorker of to-day. A great
tree would be dragged into the center of some
broad street or square by a crowd of ready young-
sters. There it would be set upright and propped
or steadied by great faggots and pieces of wood.
This base would then be fired, and as the blaze
flamed from the faggots or crept up the tall tree-
trunk, all the yelling boys danced in the flaring
light. Then, when the capanzncci fell with a great
crash, the terrible young Florentine urchins never
omitted to wage, over the charred trunk and the
glowing embers, a furious rough-and-tumble fight.
Giovanni and Giulio, for all their high-sounding
titles, welcomed exciting variety as readily as do
any other active and wide-awake boys, and they
assented gleefully to the young Buonarotti's sug-
gestion.
Quick, to the Via Pinti!" they cried, and
yielding up their horses to the silver-liveried
grooms who attended them, they turned from the
pageant, and with their black visors, or half
masks, partly drawn, they pushed their way
through the crowds that surged under the great
bell tower of the Palazzo Vecchio and thronged
the gayly decorated street called the Via Pinti.
With a ready handful of danarini and sold,
small Florentine coins of that day, they easily
satisfied the demands of the brown-skinned little
street arabs who had laid great pieces of wood,
called .the still, across the street, and would let
none pass until they had yielded to their shrill
demand of Tribute, tribute a soldi for tribute at
the still of San Marco "
With laugh and shout and carnival jest, the
three boys were struggling through the crowd
toward the rising flame of a distant cafannucci,
when suddenly, with a swish and a thud, there
came plump against the face of the young Gio-
vanni one of the thin sugar eggs which, filled with
red wine, were favorite carnival missiles. Like a
flow of blood the red liquid streamed down the
broad, brown cheek of the lad, and streaked his
violet tunic. He looked around dismayed.
"Aha! he cried, as, looking around, his quick
eye detected the successful marksman in a group of
laughing young fellows a few rods away. "'T was
thou, was it? Revenge, revenge, my comrades "
and the three lads sent a well-directed volley of re-
turn shots that made the assailants duck and dodge
for safety. Then ensued a very common carnival


scene. The shots and counter-shots drew many
lookers-on, and soon the watchers changed to actors.
The crowd quickly separated into two parties, the
air seemed full of the flying missiles, and, in the
glare of the great torches that, held by iron rings,
flamed from the corner of a noble palace, the car-
nival fight raged fast and furiously. In the hottest
of the strife a cheer arose as the nimble Giulio,
snatching a brilliant crimson scarf from the shoul-
ders of a laughing flower-girl, captured, next, a
long pikestaff from a masker of the opposite side.
Tying the crimson scarf to the long pike-handle,
he charged the enemy, crying, "Ho, forward
all! His supporters followed him with a resistless
rush ; another volley of carnival ammunition filled
the air, and a shout of victory went up as their
opponents broke before their charge and the
excited crowd went surging up the street. Again
a stand was made, again the missiles flew, and now,
the candy bon-bons failing, the reckless combat-
ants kept up the fight with street refuse,-dust and
dirt, and even small stones.
It was in one of these hand-to-hand encounters
that a tall and supple young fellow dashed from
the opposing ranks and grappled with Giulio for
the possession of the crimson standard. To and
fro the boys swayed and tugged. In sheer defense
the less sturdy Giulio struck out at his opponent's
face, and down dropped the guarded disguise of
the small black visor.
"Ho, an Albizzi!" Giulio exclaimed, as he
recognized his antagonist. Then, as the long
pikestaff was wrested from his grasp, he raised
the well-known cry of his house, Palle, pialle
Medici to the rescue." "
Ha, Medici-is it?" the young Albizzi cried,
and, as Giovanni de Medici pressed to the aid of
his cousin, Francesco Albizzi clutched at Giovan-
ni's mask in turn and tore it from his face.
Hollo shouted the scornful Albizzi. We
have uncovered the game Look, boys, 't is Messer
Giovanni himself! Hail to the young mag-
nifico and, doffing his purple bonnet, as if in
reverence to Giovanni, he struck the lad with it
full on his broad, brown cheek.
His followers applauded his deed with a shout,
but it was a weak and spiritless brava for it was
scarcely safe to make fun of the Medici in Florence
then, and cowards, you know, always take the
stronger side.
The supporters of the Medici hastened to wipe
out the insult offered to their patron's son. They
pressed forward to annihilate Albizzi's fast-lessening
band, but the young Giovanni interfered.
Nay, hold, friends," he said, 't is but a car-
nival frolic, and 't is ended now. Messer Francesco
did but speak in jest, and, sure, I bear no malice."


* The Palle d' Oro, or golden balls, were the arms of the house of Medici, and "Palle, falle," was their rallying cry.






HISTORIC BOYS.


But the hot-headed Albizzi, the son of a house
that had ever been rivals and enemies of the
Medici, would listen to no compromise.
Ho, hark to-the smooth-tongued Medici! he
cried. "Boys of Florence, will ye bow to this
little magnifico? Your fathers were but boys
when they struck for the liberties of Florence and
drove this fellow's father, the lordly magnifico,
like a whipped cur behind the doors of the sacristy,
and scattered the blood of that boy's father on the
very steps of the Reparata *
The young Giulio, when he heard this brutal
allusion to the murder of his father, could restrain
himself. no longer; but, rushing at Francesco
Albizzi, expended all his fierce young strength
upon the older boy in wildly aimed and harmless
blows.
Giovanni would have again interceded, but when
he saw the vindictive young Albizzi draw a short
dagger from his girdle, he felt that the time for
words had passed. Springing to the relief of his
cousin, he clutched Francesco's dagger-arm. There
was a rallying of adherents on both sides; young
faces- grew hot with passion, and an angry street
fight seemed certain.
But,-hark! Across the strife comes the clash
of galloping steel. There is a rush of hurrying
feet, a glare of flaring torches, a- glimmer of
shining lances, and, around from the Via Larga,
in a brilliant flash of color, swings the banner of
Florence, the great white lily on the blood-red
field. Fast behind it presses the well-known es-
cutcheon of the seven golden balls, and the armed
servants of the house of Medici sweep down upon
the combatants.
"Palle, fa/ie / Medici, ho, a Medici !" rings
the shout of rescue. The -i.:i ,.,. sword of young
Messer Pietro, the elder brother of Giovanni,
gleams in the torch-light, and the headstrong
Albizzi and his fellow-rioters scatter like chaff
before the onward rush of the paid soldiers of
the house of Medici. Then, encompassed by a
guard of bristling lances, liveried grooms, and
torch-bearers, and followed by a crowd of shouting
boys, masked revelers, and exultant retainers, the
three lads hurried down the Via Larga i the great
gates of the Palace of the Medici swung open to
admit them, and the noise and riot of the carnival
died away in the distance. Through the hall of
arches and up the grand staircase the lads hast-
ened to where, in the spacious loggia, or enclosed
piazza, Lorenzo the Magnificent stood waiting to
receive them.
Well, well, my breathless young citizens," he
exclaimed; what news and noise of strife is this


I hear? Methinks you come to us in sad and
sorry strait."
But his banter changed to solicitude as he no-
ticed the troubled face of his son. Who, then, is
in fault, my Giovanni ? he asked. 'T was well
for thee that Pietro sallied out in such hot haste;
else, from all I hear, a son of the house of Medici
might almost have been slain in a vile street brawl."
Nay, hear, my father, I pray, the whole truth
of the matter," Giovanni replied; and, as he re-
lates, in presence of that brilliant and listening
company, the story of the carnival fight as we al-
ready know it, let us, rather, read hastily the story
of the great house of the Medici of Florence,
whose piincely head now stands before us him
whom the people call "il gran magnifico," Lo-
renzo the Magnificent, the father of the boy car-
dinal.
Four hundred years, and more, ago there lived
in Florence a wealthy family known as the Medici.
They were what we now call capitalists mer-
chants and bankers, with ventures in many a land
and with banking-houses in sixteen of the leading
cities of Europe. Success in trade brought them
wealth, and wealth brought them power, until,
from simple citizens of a small inland republic they
advanced to a position of influence and importance
beyond that of many a king and prince of their
day. At the time of our sketch, the head of the
house was Lorenzo de Medici, called the Magnifi-
cent, from his wealth, his power, and his splendid
and liberal hospitality. All Florence submitted
to his will, and. though the fair city was still, in
form, a republic, the wishes and words of Lorenzo
were as law to his fellow-citizens. A man of won-
derful tact and of great attainments, he was popu-
lar with young and old, rich and poor. From a
glorious romp with the children, he would turn to
a profound discussion with wise old philosophers
or theologians, could devise means for loaning
millions to the king of England, sack a city that
had braved the power of Florence, or write the sol-
emn hymns for the priests or the gay street songs
for the people of his much-loved city. Princes
and poets, painters and priests, politicians and
philosophers, sat at his bountiful table in the splen-
did palace at the foot of the Via Larga, or walked
in his wonderful gardens of San Marco'; rode
"a-hawking" from his beautiful villa at Careggi,
or joined in the wild frolic of his gorgeous street
pageants. Power such as his could procure or
master anything, and we therefore need not won-
der that the two boys whose acquaintance we have
made had been pushed into prominence early.
Look well at them again. The boy who, with face


* The Church of the Reparata, or Santa Maria Novella, in which Lorenzo was wounded and his brother Giuliano murdered, in the
conspiracy of the Pazzi, in 1478.


[MARCH,







1884.] HISTORIC BOYS. 409


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t BUT A CARNIVAL FROLIC."
upturned toward his father's kindly eyes, is telling
the story of the street fight, is Lorenzo's second
VOL. XI.-27.


S..I ,., 1 ,, ,,,




the Church of Rome-the future Leo X., the fa-
mous pope of Martin Luther's day. His companion
is the young Giulio de Medici, nephew of Lorenzo,


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_ ___. _.






HISTORIC' BOYS.


and already, at thirteen, a prior and knight, and in
future years that pope, Clement VII., of whom
you may read in history as the unfortunate
prisoner of San Angelo, the antagonist of bluff
King Henry VIII. of England. And this other
lad, this Buonarotti, who is he ? A frotege of
Lorenzo, the companion of his sons and a favored
guest at his table, his name is to last through the
ages more illustrious than that of all the Medici,-
the wonderful Michael Angelo, the greatest of the
artists.
So, so," Lorenzo said, as Giovanni concluded
his story; "the matter is graver than I thought.
'T is another yelp from the Albizzi kennel. The
Signory must look to it. Young Messer Fran-
cesco's tongue wags too freely for the city's good.
And back to Pisa must ye go, my lads, for it ill
beseems such as you, to be ruffling it in any wild
street brawl that these troublous malcontents may
raise against us."
So, back to the quiet University of Pisa went
the boys Giovanni and Giulio, to pursue their
studies in "theology and ecclesiastical jurispru-
dence."
And spending his time thus, between his stately
Florentine home, his noble old castle of an abbey
at Passignano, and the University of Pisa, Gio-
vanni's three years of probation were passed.

Whither so fast, my Maddalena?" asked young
Francesco Albizzi, stopping a dark-haired flower-
girl, as on a bright March morning he rode into
the city. What 's astir, my dear, that thou and
all the world seem crowding to meet me, here, at
San Gallo's gate ?"
Thou, indeed? and the flower-girl laughed a
merry peal. Why, brother of the mole and lord
of all the bats, where hast thou been asleep not to
know that to-day our young Messer Giovanni is to
be proclaimed a cardinal? "
So the little Medici again ? exclaimed the
wrathful Albizzi. Bestia! Must he be always
setting the city upside down? Where is 't to be,
Maddalena ?"
"Why, where but at the altar of Fiesole ? But
do not thou keep me longer," she said, breaking
away from the indignant young patriot. "All
Florence goes forth to meet the new cardinal at
the bridge of Mugnone, and my flowers will sell
well and rarely to-day. But, hark thee, Messer
Francesco," she added, with warning finger, we
are all falleschi to-day, and 't were best for thee
to swallow thy black words. See, yonder rides
young Messer Pietro, and the Medici lances are
ready and sharp for such as thou."
And, as Albizzi turned sullenly away, Maddalena
disappeared in the crowd that, hurrying through


San Gallo's gate, headed toward the flower-
crowned hill of Fiesole. There, overlooking the
"Beautiful City," stood the gray old monastery
in which, on that eventful Sunday, the ninth of
March, 1492, the young Giovanni was receiving
the vestments.
Then, into the city, attended by the Archbishop
of Florence and the civil magistrates, with a glit-
tering retinue, and followed by "an immense mul-
titude on horseback and on foot," with waving
banners and shouts of joyous welcome, through
the great gate of San Gallo, rode Giovanni de
Medici, on a barded mule housed with trappings
of scarlet and gold," to the arched hall of the
Palace of the Medici, where his father, sick and
reclining on his litter, awaited his son's coming.
With many words of useful and practical advice
as well as warm congratulations did the proud
father receive the young cardinal, and then, from
all the acclamations and illuminations, the joy, the
fire-works, and the feasting that accompanied the
ceremonies at Florence, Giovanni, on the twelfth
of March, with a brilliant retinue, departed for his
duties at Rome.
Thus far we have seen only the bright side of
the picture-the carnival glories, the processions,
the ceremonies, the cheers, the frolic, the feasting.
Now comes the darker side; for if ever a boy was
to be in trouble, worried, badgered, and disap-
pointed, that boy was Cardinal Giovanni de
Medici. For, like a sudden shock, with many an
accompanying "portent" and "sign" that caused
the superstitious Florentines to shake their heads
in dismay, came the news that Lorenzo the Mag-
nificent was dead. Still in the prime of life, with
wealth and power and a host of followers, a mys-
terious disease laid hold upon him, and on the
eighth of April, 1492, he died at his beautiful villa
among the olive groves of Careggi, where the win-
dows overlooked the fair valley of the Arno and
the Beautiful Florence that he had ruled so
long. From Rome to Florence, from Florence to
Rome again, the young cardinal posted in anxious
haste; as, following fast upon the death of his much-
loved father came the sudden illness and death of
his other patron and protector, Pope Innocent VIII.
This occurred on July twenty-fifth, 1492, and soon
again was Giovanni posting back to Florence, a
fugitive from Rome, proscribed by the new pope,
who was not friendly to the house of Medici.
But, in Florence, Lorenzo the Magnificent was
dead, and in his place ruled his eldest son, Messer
Pietro. Rash, headstrong, overbearing, vindictive,
wavering, proud and imprudent, this wayward
young man of twenty-one succeeded to a power he
could not wield and to possessions he could not
control. Enemies sprung up, old friends and sup-


*Palleschi was the name given to the adherents and retainers of the house of Medici.


4Io


[MARCH,







HISTORIC BOYS.


porters dropped away, the people lost confidence,
and when, by a final blunder, he unnecessarily
surrendered to the King of France important Flor-
entine fortresses and territory, the anger of his
fellow-citizens broke out in fierce denunciation
and open revolt.
So, in spite of the strong words and the brave
front of the young Gioivanni, in spite of the power
of the once potent name of Medici and the remem-
brance of past favors to Florence, in which the
great house had been so lavish,- the spirit of free-
dom, of resistance to tyranny, and of hatred, espe-
cially for the cowardly Pietro, flamed through the
fair city by the Arno from San Gallo's gate to the
goldsmith's bridge. The hoarse boom-boom-of
the great bell of the Palazzo Vecchio -" the old
cow of the Vacca," as the Florentines called it-
rang out above the hurrying throngs, and all who
heard it knew that its measured toll heralded the
downfall of the Medici. And full well, too, the
boys of the now fallen house knew the meaning of
that tolling bell. Its loud boom-boom-rang out
danger to Florence; rally, good men and true "
and, as its clang sounded over the city from gate
to gate, every citizen, no matter what his occupa-
tion, answered the summons by snatching up the
arms nearest at hand and hastening to the great
square of the Vecchio.
Resistance was useless. "Palle, falle, Medici to
the rescue !" had lost its old power to rally retainers
and citizens to the support of the once proud house.
The banners of the white lily and the golden balls
no longer waved side by side, and on Sunday,
the ninth of November, 1494, the young Giovanni,
with his cousin Giulio, fled from his native city.
As he hurried through San Gallo's massive gate,
with that terrible bell still tolling the doom of his
family, and the shouts of an aroused and determined
people filling the air, he remembered the brilliance
and enthusiasm of other passing through that
well-known gate, and, with the words "Ungrateful,
-ah, ungrateful," on his lips, he hastened to the
villa at beautiful Careggi, where the defeated
Pietro had taken temporary refuge.
But not long could the banished brothers re-
main at Careggi. The enraged Florentines still
pursued them, and for two anxious weeks this
young Giovanni, whose boyish days had been
filled with pleasure and brightness, whose slight-


est wish had ever been gratified, remained con-
cealed in the deepest recesses of the Apennines,
declared a rebel and an outlaw, with a price
upon his head.

Eighteen years passed away, and on the morn-
ing of the fourteenth of September, 1512, two
riders, surrounded by a great escort of glittering
lances and a retinue of heavy-armed foot-soldiers,
entered the gate-way of the "Beautiful City."
They were Giovanni de Medici and his faithful
cousin returning to their native city, proudly and
triumphantly, after eighteen years of exile: Boys
no longer, but grave and stalwart men, Giovanni
and Giulio rode through the familiar streets and
past the old landmarks that they had never for-
gotten, to the foot of the Via Larga, where still
stood the palace of the Medici. Since the year
1504, when the unfortunate Messer Pietro-un-
fortunate to the last-had been drowned on the
disastrous retreat from Garigliano, the Cardinal
Giovanni had stood as the head of the house
of Medici. After six years of wandering and
anxiety, he had risen to eminence and power at
Rome. In all these eighteen years, he never gave
up his hope of regaining his native city. Three
times did the Medici seek to return to power; three
times were they repulsed. At last, his time had
come. Florence, torn by feud and discontent,
with a Spanish army camped beyond her walls,
opens her gates to the conquerors, and the Cardi-
nal Giovanni rules as lord of Florence.
So the exile returned to position and power; so
the fickle Florentines, who, in a fury of patriotism,
had sacked the palace of Lorenzo, now once more
shouted themselves hoarse for "Palle and the
Medici! "
With Giovanni's later life we need not here
concern ourselves, except to mention an item of
interest to young Americans that he was the firm
friend of the American Indians when thly were
persecuted by their Spanish conquerors. "The
best of all the Medici, save his father," so the his-
torians report,-we may, as we read of him, re-
member the diligence, notwithstanding his love of
pleasure, and the loyalty to the name and fort-
unes of a once powerful family, that marked the
youthful years of Giovanni de Medici, the boy
cardinal.








412 WONG NING'S IDEAS. [MARCH,


THE WIND-FLOWER.

BY LUCY LARCOM.


WIND-FLOWER, Wind-flower, why are you here?
This is a boisterous time of the year
For blossoms as fragile and tender as you
To be out on the road-sides in spring-raiment
new;
For snow-flakes yet flutter abroad in the air,
And the sleet and the tempest are weary to bear.
Have you not come here, pale darling, too soon?
You would seem more at home with the flowers
of June.


" Why have I come here ? the Wind-flower said;
"Why?"-and she gracefully nodded her head
As a breeze touched her petals: "Perhaps to
teach you
That the strong may be sometimes the delicate, too.
I am fed and refreshed by these cold, rushing rains;
The first melting snow-drifts brought life to my
veins;
The storm rocked my cradle with lullabies wild;
I am here with the Wind-because I am his child! "


WONG NING'S IDEAS.

AS EXPRESSED BY HIMSELF.

[WoNG NING is no imaginary character. He is a real, flesh-and-blood Chinese boy, living in San Francisco, and
much interested in the new and many-sided life going on about him. So we are glad to give you, in his own words,
a few of his observations on American life and manners.
Our correspondent, Mrs. Ella Sterling Cummins, who sends us Wong Ning's portrait, says in her letter, written
from San Francisco: Although the Chinese are so numerous here and so intimately connected with our domestic
routine, they are reticent, and rarely speak of their native land, though greatly attached to its memories. In fact,
the thoughts and expressions of home life that I have gleaned, are almost as unfamiliar to.Californians as to East-
ern people, because of this reticence. Wong Ning, or 'Charley,' as he likes to be called, is a very intelligent fellow
with very sound ideas; ard he sees many things in the way of customs and habits among Americans of which
he disapproves as strongly as we disapprove of certain customs among the Chinese. Some of these 'ideas are
comical; some sensible. As it is a departure to look upon ourselves through Chinese eyes, I thought, perhaps, it
might interest your readers; so I gathered .: just a few of his expressions for your perusal. While follow-
ing the idiom, I have not attempted to give I... .- .inciation, for it would interfere with the ideas and divest them
of clearness. Besides, an intelligent Chinese does not indulge in the absurd, You heapee likee' as the litterateur
would have us believe; but takes great pride in talking as well as possible. I also send a photograph of Wong Ning. ]


MY name Wong Ning. I born on home China,
come to this country when thirteen years old, and
been here now seven-year.
Little boy have very hard time on home China.
Have to get up and go to school at six o'clock,-
very early that,-come home, get breakfast at
eight o'clock, and lunch at twelve o'clock; then
stay till six o'clock in the day. I no think Ameri-
can boy like that!
Little girl no go to school at all! Very funny,
that Have one big house, on home China, where
all the girls go every day; learn to sew, make the
pretty things, the flowers, the birds, everything !
by the needle. Little girl no speak to the boy -
no never on home China.
On home China every one like the mother very
much ; give everything to she. If a China boy no
like the mother, no work hard for she, no send she
everything-Oh! horrible! very bad! All the
sons marry, bring home the wife to wait on she.


Not like the wife so much as the mother, on home
China.
The woman--the wife, the mother, the little
girl all work in the house sew, cook, make the
cloth, everything! When they make the dinner
or the lunch, set the table very nice, put on every-
thing; then run behind the curtain (no have any
door on home China), and then the man -the
father, the son, the little boy-all come in, sit
down, eat the dinner; eat him all up. Pretty
soon, by and by, the woman-the mother, the
wife, the little girl-come quiet, lift up the cur-
tain. If he all gone, can come eat; if no, can
not come. Yes / sure /
This place not the same like on home China.
Everything more different.
I go to school at night, learn to read and write;
I think English very hard. I been work for the
Jew family, the Irish family, and the Spanish
family. I think my English get too much funny-


WONUG NING S IDEAS.


412


[MARCH,








WONG NING'S IDEAS.


so many kinds of language. Now I work for the
American family; like it more better.
I been here so long, and go to school so much,
that I understand the English more better than
China. Very funny that! When my cousin, at
the wash-house, send me the letter to come take
dinner with he, he have to write it in English,
and the lady I work for, she laugh very much.


I get one letter this morning. (My American
name, Charley.) Here the letter:
Mr. Chily. you Please come to Kum Lee this evening to take
dinder, beacuse Lee chong go to home China this week. Ah Do
and Ah Sing all come in to if soon as you can
good by Wong Voo."
I know plenty stories about on home China.
You ever hear about Kong-foo-too ?-American
call him Confucius-he very great man.
Maybe you like, I tell you one story. Kong-
foo-too-he travel all over China. He live about


two, three thousand year ago, yes! sure! He
travel every city, teach Chinaman-that very
good.
One city he no came,- that Canton,- one very
big place inside three big walls. Kong-foo-too,
or Confucius, he come to Canton, and try to come
in the gate -very big gate.
One little boy there, seven years old. I think








_:~ -__.


































that little boy too smart. He making play of a little
city, and building three little walls around it, all
the same like Canton. He took up too much room,
and talk too smart, so that Confucius can not get in.
He watch him a little while, then he say, I
guess Canton all right, this boy can teach Canton.
I go some other place." That very bad! Next
year that boy die-very strange that! So Canton
never get any teaching, not from boy, not from
Kong-foo-too. I think not very good for little boy
to be too smart.


413






FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.


PEA-NUTS.

BY M. P. D.

DON'T yOU think smoke is pret-ty? One ver-y cold day, a poor
lit-tle boy stood in the street look-ing at some smoke.
It came from a sort of tin box, with a lit-tle roof, and a door on
one side. A man in a great-coat stood turn-ing a hand-le of the box,
and at ev-er-y puff of the blue smoke, the boy said to him-self: Oh!
how good those pea-nuts must be I would rath-er grind pea-nuts than
grind an or-gan. I am go-ing to be a pea-nut man, when I grow up."
Soon a great big boy came a-long, and gave the man five cents.
Then the man gave the big boy a nice pa-per of pea-nuts. This was
ver-y nice for the man and the big boy, but it did not help the lit-tle
boy at all. It on-ly made him wish that he was a big boy and could
buy pea-nuts; but as he had n't any five cents, he could not get them.
And they did look so good!
At last, an-oth-er boy came a-long, and he was a lit-tle boy too, but
he had a warm ul-ster, but-toned up to his chin and but-toned down
to his boots, and a lit-tle fur cap that came down o-ver his ears, and
he was walk-ing a-long with his nurse. Mer-i-den Mel-born (this was
the big name of the lit-tle boy) saw the oth-er lit-tle boy in the street,
and he ran up to him and said: "What is your name?"
Jim," said the boy.
"What are you do-ing?" said Mer-rie, while his nurse tried to take
him a-way.
I am look-ing at that pea-nut man," said Ja-mie. When Mer-rie
heard that, he for-got all a-bout Jim, for he want-ed some pea-nuts.
He took out his own lit-tle pock-et-book that San-ta Claus had sent
that ver-y Christ-mas and he went up to the man, and he said: "I
want some pea-nuts." Then he gave the man five cents, and the man
gave him a pa-per of pea-nuts. And then he and his nurse went a-way,
and the poor lit-tle boy, Jim, felt sor-ry to see them go a-way. For he
had no mon-ey and no pea-nuts.
Mer-rie went on down the street with his nurse, then they stopped
to look at some pict-ures in a win-dow, when, all at once, a pict-ure of
a poor lit-tle boy made Mer-rie think of the lit-tle boy in the street and
how he was look-ing at the pea-nut man. "I ought to give him some


[MARCH,





1884.] FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK. 415

pea-nuts," Mer-rie said to him-self, for he was a good boy, on-ly some-
times he for-got; then he won-dered if it was too late, and he ran back
a-long the street to find Jim and the pea-nut man. He found them just
as he had left them, and he went up to Jim and put five pen-nies in-to
Jim's lit-tle hand, and said: "You must get some pea-nuts, too," and
then he ran off a-gain as fast as he could go. He soon met his nurse.










She had missed him, and she was a-fraid he would get lost. So she

Mer-rie felt as hap-py as a king. And, just then, an-oth-er lit-tle


I

--' ,'
:- 2, '""
^,*.',,l \' I-









She had missed him, and she was a-fraid he would get lost. So she
was ver-y glad to see him a-gain. Then they walked home, and
Mer-rie felt as hap-py as a king. And, just then, an-oth-er lit-tie
boy was ver-y hap-py, too. He was start-ing off for home with a warm
lit-tle pa-per of nice pea-nuts un-der his arm. It was the poor boy, Jim.








416


3d
MONTH.


5:1

0?I.
'i ilr'i'
Ce: ~ 13


THE Sun, while driving through the sky, now climbs the steepest hills,
And hitches Aries, or the Ram, into his chariot thills.


s Sun on
s Non 1 Holidays and Incidents.
Place. Mark.
H. M.
Aries 12.12
Taurus 12.12 l.i ..- I ., in Lent.
12.12 C close to Saturn.
12.12 Inauguration Day, 1793.
Gemini 12.11 [the Twins.
S12.11 q between Procyon and
Cancer 12.11 ( near Jupiter and Mars.
S 12.11 (9th) a near Regulus.
Leo 12.10 2d Sunday in Lent.
S12.10 Benjamin West, d. 1820.
12.10 Charles Sumner, d. 1874.
Virgo 12.10 ( near Spica.
12. 9 La Fontaine, d. 1695.
12. 9
Libra 12. 9 Andrew Jackson, b. 1767.
S 12. 9 3d Sunday in Lent.
Ophiuch 12. 8 ( near Antares.
12. 8
Sagitt. 12. 8
12. 7 Sir Isaac Newton,d. 1727.
12. 7 Robert Bruce, b. 1724.
Capri. 12. 7 Rosa Bonheur, b. 1822.
Aqua. 12. 6 4th Sunday in Lent.
12. 6 Queen Elizabeth, d. 1603.
12. 6 Joachim Murat, b. 1771.
12. 6 [in America.
12. 5 EclipseofSun, not visible
12. 5 Raphael, b. 1483.
12. 5 6 near Venus.
Taurus 12. 4 5th Sunday in Lent.
12. 4 (30th) ( near Saturn.


SPORT FOR THE MONTH.


Tors and marbles, both together,
Come with breezy, bright, March weather.
Spin them, spin them on the ground;
Snip them, snap them, all around.


EVENING SKIES FOR YOUNG ASTRONOMERS.


(See Introduction, page 255, ST. NICHOLAS for January.)*
MARCH i5th, 8.30 P.M.
Although VENUS is not very much brighter, it can be well
seen in the west after sunset, as it does not set till about half-
past nine. SATURN, though it has scarcely-moved its position
among the stars, is now far to the west from our south-mark,
and with it Taurus, and the brilliant Orion, are all on their
descending course. MARS is not quite so bright as in Febru-
ary; it has moved still a little backward to the west, among
the stars, and is still nearer to JUPITER, who, nearly as bright
as ever, has also moved backward, a little to the west, out of
line with Castor and Pollux.
Sirius is now in the south-west, Procyon, in the Little Dog;
and higher up, Castor and Pollux in Gemini, or The Twins,
are a little to the west of our point of observation. Orion is
bending to the west. Betelguese marks his right shoulder;
the bright star to the west of it is Bellatrix, and marks his left
shoulder. Rigel is in his knee. Below the three stars that
mark his Sword Belt are three others, not near so bright, that
one can easily imagine to be his sword.
Regulus is now high in the south-east. This star is one of
a group of six or seven, all in Leo, that plainly mark the form
of a sickle in the sky. Regulus is at the end of the handle.
Half way between Regulus and Procyon, and now exactly in
the south, is a cluster of very small stars called Prcesepe, or
the Bee-hive. It can only be observed on very clear nights in
the absence of the Moon; it is the principal or most interest-
ing object that marks the constellation of Cancer, or The Crab,
which is one of the constellations of the Zodiac. The star that
stands so much alone in the south, between Sirius and Regulus,
is called by the Arabs "Al Fard" (" the Solitary"). It is in
the constellation Hydra, or The Water Snake."


THE HARE AND THE CHIPMUNK.

"I 'M hurried to death," said the Hare, when the dogs were after him, to the Chipmunk, who begged
that he would stop and crack a nut of gossip with him; but if you will take my place, and let me have
yours, so that I can overlook the country, I '11 stop and rest awhile."
"All right," said the Chipmunk, hopping down from the tree, with a nut in his mouth. I 've always
wished to see a March hare. But you're not a very mad one, are you? "
"Oh, no! replied the Hare, grinning; "I've all my wits about me, as you will presently perceive."
And, at that moment, the dogs burst through the bushes, and pounced upon the poor Chipmunk, who
exclaimed with his last breath: "What a fine thing it is to be smart That gray Hare will never go
down with sorrow to the grave."

The names of planets are printed in capitals,- those of constellations in italics.


6HE ST. nIGHOLAS ILMANAG


BY ROYAL AND BARR HILL.


MARCH,


Day
Week.

Sat.
JS
Mon.
Tues.
Wed.
Thur.
Fri.
Sat.
A
Mon.
Tues.
Wed.
Thur.
Fri.
Sat.

Mon.
Tues.
Wed.
Thur.
Fri.
Sat.

Mon.
Tues.
Wed.
Thur.
Fri.
Sat.

Mon.
Mon.














































A


PUFF! Puff! Puff! cried March, rushing in like a lion and roaring at the top of his voice. I'm
no smoker, but I can blow a cloud as well as any one. .You've seen my advertisement, Mother Nature, and
you must buy. March dust is worth more to you than to anyone. I 'll give you good measure this time."
"Don't bluster so, March! said Dame Nature. "I'11 take your dust, but though I knew the old
proverb says A peck of March dust is worth a king's ransom,' I can't pay a great price for it. December
disappointed me last year, and, though January did his best, my garden, I'm afraid, is not going to be
quite what it should be. I should not be surprised if Green Pea sulked in her pod, and would not give me
a single blossom. Corn has got his ears wide-open, and Potato keeps his eyes peeled, I can tell you. I
expect to have trouble with them all, when their time comes."
Blow 'em up! said March,-" that's what I do! "


MARCH DUST.


"IT 's worth a king's ransom! Come, sweep it
along;
" Come, gather it, Winds, in your grasp so strong!
"It 's worth a king's ransom! We '11 toss it on
high!
" It 's worth a king's ransom! Who'll buy, who 'I1
buy?"

In a cloud, in a whirl, the March dust flies
Through the bright, keen air,-'neath the cold,
March skies;


And if you will listen, you '11 hear this song
That the March winds sing, as they hurry
along:

"It's worth a king's ransom! Come, sweep it
along;
"Quick, gather it, Winds, in your grasp so strong!
It 's worth a king's ransom! We '1l toss it on
high !
"It's worth a king's ransom Who '11 buy, who '11
buy?"







JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT


', ; -" ,D "

Sj AulK -IN -T HE --' ULPIIT.

STAND close, my friends, and do not let these
gusty winds blow you away nor drown the sound
of your Jack's voice!
March is a consequential fellow, full of noise and
bellow; but he means well-that is, he means to
go before long. Meantime, let us see how much
we can make out of the thirty-one days he brings
with him.
Now for a word about

WET METEORS.
A FEW months ago, some of you young folk
astonished us all by your accounts of shooting-
stars and their artless ways. But imagine my
surprise at hearing the dear Little School-ma'am
tell Deacon Green this very morning that rain and
snow were meteors! At first, the Deacon and I
thought the little lady was joking. Not a bit of it.
She was giving us a scientific fact. In the first
place, she explained that "meteor" came from a
Greek word signifying "lofty-in the air"; and
then she further said that, according to Appletons'
American Cyclopaedia--
What did you say, you dear little girl with
spectacles on? Ah, certainly. Thank you, very
much. I quite agree with you .that all the boys
and girls interested in this subject can look for
"meteors" in the cyclopedias that is, if they
can find the cyclopedias. I do not happen to
have one by me just now.

HOW DO YOU SPELL IT?

SOMETIMES I hear the dear Little School-ma'am
and Deacon Green arguing about words as they
stroll by my pulpit, and one day they actually came
to blows. But that was only because the Deacon
asked why, if "foes" and froze and "rose"


were right, a man could not be allowed to spell
"blows" b-l-o-e-s or b-l-o-z-e or b-l-o-s-e, ac-
cording to his fancy.
Because you can not," said the dear Little
School-ma'am. It's not spelled so in the dic-
tionary."
Then you should have seen the Deacon. His
eyes shone, and he stood before her an image
of triumph.
"The dictionary!" he exclaimed. "Now I
have you Will you kindly spell me a dictionary
word that means a short Turkish sword ? "
"Saber?" asked the little lady, doubtfully.
"Oh, I know-cimeter you mean."
Exactly," assented the Deacon, with an ex-
pectant air. Spell it."
C-i-m-e-t-e-r," responded the Little School-
ma'am, promptly.
Wrong eight times exclaimed the Deacon.
I was studying out that very word this morning
in my Worcester's Unabridged, and the word is
spelled in that dictionary nine different ways yes,
and Worcester favors 'em all, too, after a fashion.
Webster, too, almost says it is not material how
you spell it,-as it is a foreign word."
The bright Little School-ma'am laughed mer-
rily, glad that the Deacon had gained a point.
Is it possible ? she exclaimed. Nine differ-
ent ways ?"
The Deacon chuckled. "Verily !" he observed.
"I know the list by heart. Yes, you can write
the word nine different ways without offending
Worcester c-i-m-e-t-e-r- c-i-m-i-t-e-r- c-y-m-e-
t-a-r- s-c-y-m-e-t-a-r- s-c-i-m-i-t-a-r- s-c-y-m-i-
t-a-r- s-i-m-i-t-a-r- c-i-m-i-t-a-r- and- s-c-i-m-
e-t-a-r. Ha! ha The pen is mightier than the
sword this time and no mistake."
"Yes, and there 's another proverb that fits
the case," chirped the good-natured Little School-
ma'am. It 's a -oor sword that will not cut two
ways."
But this sword (which, by the way, ought to
be spelled s-o-r-d, and done with it)," said the
Deacon, this sword cuts more than half a dozen
ways. Look out, my dear, that you never give
the word to a spelling-class of eight youngsters."
"And why not ? she asked.
"Why, because if following the dictionary is
your rule, don't you see it 's very likely the chil-
dren will all be wrong, and all be right, and all
have to go up head ? "

HEAVY BANKERS.
TALKING of words, I 'm told that in England a
"banker is not always a man connected specially
with money banks, or one who handles large sums
of money in a business way. In fact, he may be
one who handles very little money indeed. Men
who work in the English fens or bogs, digging
in the soil or banking it up, have been called
bankers.
Again, a banker need not be a man at all, nor
a woman, nor a boy, nor a girl. A banker, I 'm
informed, may be a kind of hard bench, or a sort
of soft cushion, or a style of sailing vessel. Yet


418


[MARCH,








JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


I '11 warrant if any of you were to speak casually
of going soon to see a heavy banker, meaning a
vessel, or perhaps a stone bench on which masons
cut and square their work, you'd be asked straight-
way to beg him to subscribe to some good cause
or worthy charity, or to help some poor youngster
to subscribe for ST. NICHOLAS.
Dear, dear, words are queer things; and, on
account of yonder Red School-house, they really
seem to grow quite near my pulpit.

A SOUND SLEEPER.
HERE is a true story, sent me by a well-known
naturalist who loves to watch insects and study
their interesting ways :
One sultry morning last summer a wasp that
had been flying about a newly mown hay-field


S{ / ,. '
,, / i '








ing about, he spied a tall dried spear of hay that
d b lf di b t 'i i e l
MI 'J" "


I I'li', 'L____ h,
WHICH WILL WcAKEN ?
became drowsy and decided to take a nap. Look-
ing about, he spied a tall dried spear of hay that
had been left standing by the mowers. The lit-


tie fellow, attracted by so breezy a resting-place,
seized the stalk between his mandibles, swung off,
and soon was snoring, if wasps do snore. Very
soon after, a grasshopper came slowly climbing
up the stalk past the sleeper, and settled himself
a short distance above waspy's head, where for a
long time he worked and wriggled, shaking the
spear to and fro. Finally, he actually came out
of his skin, and moved away, leaving only the
empty shell, through which the wind blew and
whistled, to tell his story. A little later, another
grasshopper, in a wild, headlong flight, sprang into
the air, and landed directly on the tip of the dry
spear. This entered its shell, piercing it through
and through. The spear bent almost to the ground
under the blow, swayed from side to side, finally
regaining its upright position, bearing aloft the
impaled jumper--a dire warning to all others of
its kind. Notwithstanding this commotion, the
wasp slept on, its slender form swaying in the sun-
light, until at last it started into wakefulness,
bustling off with an I 'm-late' sort of movement
that was very amusing. Meantime, the empty
'hopper shell looked up at the impaled brother
with a rustle of sympathy that might easily have
been mistaken for the genuine article."

FLORIDA BOYS, PLEASE ANSWER.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I read last week in the Transcrit
that Florida fishermen have a novel way of destroying the sharks
which sometimes come uncomfortably near their boats. Our paper
said that the root of the dogwood is certain death to sharks, and
that the Florida fishermen take advantage of the fact. Whenever a
sharks in sight, they kill a small fish, and, after putting dog-wood bark
inside of it, throw it overboard. In a few moments the shark rises
to the surface, quite dead,-a victim to the poisoned bait. Now I
should like to hear more about this. I asked papa, and he said the
best way would be for me to write to Florida. But how can I do
that? I think he was joking. Anyway, I have decided to write to
you, dear Jack. If you show my letter to the Florida boys, may be
they will look into this matter and report the facts to you.
Your admiring young friend, L. C. D.
PORTLAND, Jan. 9, 1884.

A BIG PIECE OF WORK FOR BEES.
MY birds tell me that a bee-comb, nearly a yard
long, was discovered last summer near Santa
Anna, in California. This great piece of comb
hung from a tree, and was nearly filled with
honey. The bees were still busily at work upon
it, and they seemed quite unconscious that they
were doing anything extraordinary.
Have any of my children ever seen a piece of
honey-comb as large as this? It is likely that
many have found honey stored in hollow trees
in large or small quantities ; but have they ever
seen the comb hanging in open sight from a sturdy
limb of the forest ?
Letters describing personal observations on this
subject will be very acceptable to your Jack.


DEACON GREEN'S REPORT
ON THE
PRIZE DRAWINGS,
NEXT MONTH.


419








THE LETTER-BOX.






THE LETTER-BOX.


IN Mrs. Clement's article on Diirer, printed last month, a sentence
about Martin Luther was quoted from Dilrer's diary, which mis-
stated the date of Luther's death, giving it as 1521. Probably, a
false report had come to Diirer, in some way, for Luther lived till
1546 -twenty-five years later.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My uncle sends me the ST. NICHOLAS,
and I like it very much. I am nine years old. I was very much
interested in reading about the durion tree, but my grandma has
seen trees in California two hundred feet high. MARJORIE.


BALTIMORE, January, 1884.
My DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have read your notice about the
Christmas plays in the Letter-box of the January number, and
supposing it would gratify the author, I take pleasure in informing
him that "The Three Somber Young Gentlemen and the Three
Pretty Girls" was played with great success by the children con-
nected with St. Luke's Sunday-School, Franklin Square, of this
city, on the 28th of December last. I took the part of one of the
three pretty girls. All the performers were under fifteen years of
age. The House of Santa Claus" was also played at the same
entertainment. We played "False Sir Santa Claus" last year, and
now look regularly for your welcome assistance every Christmas.
Your loving friend, ISABEL EMORY PRICE.
We have had many other reports of successful performances of
Mr. Brooks's Christmas pot-pourri. We congratulate Isabel on being
able to take the part of one of the three pretty girls.


NEW YORK, October 11, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in California, but I am in New
York now on a visit. I have taken the ST. NICHOLAS for a long
while, and think there is no other magazine in the world like it.
Every month when 1 have read it myself I send it to a little girl who
lives far away in the country, and has few books to read; and she
enjoys it so much. I am very glad to hear that Miss Alcott and
Mrs. Whitney will write for the magazine in 1884. Their stories
are always delightful. Your constant reader, FANNIE."

Fannie," in common with so many other girls, will be glad to
see the first part of Mrs. Whitney's story, "Girl-Noblesse "-printed
in this number.


Here is a most welcome letter, which has traveled ten thousand miles
to reach us. And it is a pleasure to us to think of ST. NICHOLAS'
having previously sped over every one of those ten thousand miles,
by land and sea, to give joy to "Buttercup, Daisy, and Violet."

BOURKE, N. S. W., August, 1883.
DEAR OLD ST. NICHOLAS: Our Grandmamma takes you for us,
and we all think you are the nicest magazine we have ever seen.
We are three Australian children, and live in Bourke. It is a
small country town in New South Wales, about one hundred miles
from the Queensland border. The river Darling runs through the
town, and it is often navigable; just now it is too low for any steam-
ers to come up from Adelaide. There is not any railway here. We
get all our letters and magazines by the mail-coaches.
We have a very large, pure white cat. He is very amusing and
quite deaf. He will play like a kitten, although he is nearly three
years old. He also can pretend to be dead, so well that he has often
frightened us.
We have a little half-caste girl called Topsy, who helps with the
house-work. She is very clever and makes us all laugh; she says
such funny things.
We all like copying those little pictures of cats, dressed up like
people, they are so funny. Our kind Grandmamma has sent you to
us for more than a year, and we always look forward to your coming
with great pleasure.
Good-bye, dear ST. NICHOLAS. We must not take up too much
of your space, as we hope to see our letter in your Letter-box in
a few months. We are, your constant readers,
BUTTERCUP, DAISY, AND VIOLET.
Many thanks for your cordial letters, dear girls. We are glad
to know that such a Buttercup, a Daisy, and a Violet are growing


"all the year round in your far-off country. And, by the time this
number of ST. NICHOLAS reaches you, we shall be welcoming again
the pretty flowers that can claim you as their namesakes.



MONTGOMERY, ALA., January 3, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for several years, and
like you better than any magazine I have ever taken.
I began to draw a picture for one of the poems printed with
Deacon Green's offer in December, but did n't succeed, so I would
n't send it.
I think the Soap-bubble Party" is just splendid, and think of
getting one up here.
We had a Christmas-tree, and before the presents were distributed
we all sang the Christmas carol" in the December ST. NICHOLAS.
I hope you will print this, if it is worthy of a place in your precious
magazine. Your constant reader, EMMA T. S.



ORANGE, December 4, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you about my home in
Southern California. I am ten years old, and have lived nearly all
my life in an orange grove. Our home is the Yale Orange Grove.
Besides oranges, we have lemons, limes, grapes, figs, melons,
bananas, pears, nectarines, peaches, apricots, pomegranates, plums,
and other things.
This afternoon we had a hard rain, and last night and this morning
we saw snow on the mountains. Once we had a little snow here.
One night we went to a concert, and our cats followed us all the
way; and when we got to the concert one of them went home and
the other stayed and'went into the concert. She got into a man's
coat-pocket, and he scared her out, and she stayed down town
awhile. After that I took her home, and then she got sick and died.
I think the concert killed her.
Your little friend, ELSIE CLARK.



ST. THOMAS, CANADA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I have been going to write to you for a
long time, but have never fulfilled my intention until now. Your
prized magazine is looked for all the month, and when I have
received it I keep from reading it all through as long as I possibly
can, so as not to get rid of the pleasure it gives me too soon. I am
fifteen years old; and were it not for my school-mates, I would per-
haps be lonesome as I have no sisters and but two brothers, who are
over twenty-four. I enjoy the A. A. reports, too, and intend having a
little chapter among my friends. But I shall never have anything to
do with caterpillars, as I have too great an abhorrence for the poor
ugly things. I am an American although living in Canada, and
would like to live in the States again. I will not trouble you with
a longer letter, so good-bye. LELAH B.



WHITE ROCK, ELKO Co., NEV., October, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl, ten years of age, and live
in this far-off country. A kind friend sends us the ST. NICHOLAS,
and you should see how eager we all are to look at it; we all think
it very interesting, and like to read the nice stories and look at the
pretty pictures. There are five children in the family: Aubrey, twelve
years old; Bessie and Lay, twins, ten; Anita, six years. These are
brothers and sisters; I am a cousin of their mamma's, and live with
them. I think that some of your young readers would like to know
how we live out here, and what we do to pass away the time. We
are living at the head or mouth of a canon, which is called Silver
Creek Cafion. It is named Silver Creek Cafon, because the
mountains on each side of the cation contain many rich silver ledges.
We children have each an interest in one of the mines; it is called
the Peerless. Our house is a la. .ottage, covered with hop-
vines in summer, with four Balm -,. :.! trees in front of it, which
were brought from the mountains and planted here, for we have no
trees in the valleys of this region unless they are planted by settlers;
but in the mountains there are pines, cotton-wood, and all kinds of
fir-trees. The air is so clear here that from our house we can see
Paradise Mountain, one hundred miles distant. Our boys some-
times go prospecting with their father, and are quite successful; we
enjoy ourselves looking through a magnifying-glass at the specimens
they bring home, to find gold and silver on them n for gold is found


420


[MARCH,








THE LET'


here also. We study at home, sometimes sew, sometimes read, and
we go out and fish in the creek for mountain trout. We ride our
ponies, and in many other ways amuse ourselves. So we have a
pleasant time, although our nearest neighbor lives more than half
a mile away from us. My letter is getting very long, so I must
say good-bye.
Your little friend, Lucy C. A.



We are compelled to merely acknowledge many pleasant letters
which we would be glad to print in the "Letter-box," if it were possi-


I884.1


THE AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION-THIRTY-FIFTH REPORT.


MANY of our Chapters have been organized in connection with
schools, and at the close of each school year comes a dispersion.
Some of the members, being graduated, never return,and the Chapter
finds itself crippled in the loss of its oldest and leading members. We
have received many letters in such cases, asking whether a number
less than four can be allowed to continue a Chapter.
We therefore wish now, before the close of the current academical
year, to state distinctly and once for all, that while we require at
least four to organize a Chapter, yet after it has once been organized
and recognized by official certificate, it shall not be dropped from our
roll so long as one active member shall remain; providing always that
such chapter shall have shown its good faith by continuing a mem-
bership of four, for six months from the receipt of its certificate. Do
not be discouraged, then, if your comrades are removed and you are
left entirely alone; so long as your own interest is alive, you shall
be recognized as a Chapter, and shall retain the old number and all
its privileges. We are happy to state, however, that most of our
branches are steadily increasing rather than diminishing in numbers.
CORRESPONDENCE.

We have been asked to call the attention of the Association to the
matter of correspondence. Complaints are occasionally made of
letters unanswered. The interchange of letters and specimens among
distant Chapters is one of the most valuable features of our Society,
and might be developed to a much greater degree than it is at
present. We request all secretaries to send us the names and num-
bers of any Chapters that may fail to respond when addressed by
mail. Such delinquents should be published, that others may not
waste time and postage upon them. But we must always temper
our disappointment with patience, remembering that many causes
besides neglect may prevent us from getting a reply to our first
letter. We may have written the address incorrectly or illegibly
ourselves, or our letter or the answer to it may have been lost in the
mails.
RED CROSS CLASS.

The topic for the class in practical physiology for the month is
"Muscles, fat, and fascia; skin;-Practical application: Wounds
and their treatment."
The details of study are fully given in the class manual furnished
free to all who desire to take the course, by Charles Everett
Warren, M. D., 51 Union Park, Boston, Mass., to whom all letters
on this subject must be addressed. Tuition free. (See February
ST. NICHOLAS.)
NEW CHAPTERS.

No. Name. No. of Members. Address.
550 Galesburg, Ill. (B) ....... 8..Chas. F. Gettemy. .
551 Clinton, Iowa. ............ 6..Henry Towle, box 486.
552 Easton, Pa. (D)..........o..A. Collins Ely.
553 Defiance, Ohio (A) ....... 6..Emmet B. Fisher.
554 Phila., Pa. (Q)............ 9..J. Edgar McKee, 222o Mt.
Vernon St.
555 Olympia, W. T. (A)....... 6..Wood J. Doane.
556 Phila., Pa. (R)............ 6..P. T. Brown, 22o6 Green St.
557 Phila., Pa. (S) ........... 8..Miss Bessie P. Pearsall, 1704
Pine St.
558 Indianapolis, Ind. (C) ..... i..R. Robinson, 383 N. J. St.
559 Bath, N. Y. (A) .......... 4. Percy E. Meserve.
6o Cambridge, N. J. (A) ... 8..G. Morrison Taylor, Riverside
P. O., Burlington Co.
561 Cincinnati, O. (B)......... 7..J. A. Giebel, 21 Ohio Av.


NEW CHAPTERS.
No. Name. No. of Membemrs. A address.
562 Wilmington. Del. (C)..... 8..Albert E. Keigwin.
563 Lyons, N. Y. (A) ........ 4..has .nnis.
564 Santa Rosa, Cal. (A) ...... 4..Wilber 1M. Swett.
EXCHANGES.
Eggs, blown through one hole, and bird skins.-J. Grafton
Parker, 2238 Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Ill.
Carnelians, agates, and petrified wood.-Chas. Ennis, Lyons,
N. Y.
Cinnabar, silver ore and galena, serpentine, mica, and black
tourmaline, for limonite, ribbon jasper, and others.- Helen Mont-
gomery, box 764, Wakefield, Mass.
75 cocoons for birds' eggs.--E. J. Putnam, 778 Olive Street,
Cleveland, O.
Magnetic sand from Lake Michigan, and .--r- for ores of any
kind but iron.--J. H. Sawyer, Ludington, : !. I.
Birds' eggs, minerals, and insects, for rare insects.- E. Hamilton,
96 Fountain Street, Grand Rapids, Mich.
'NOTES.
65. Vanessa Mfilberli.- I have observed the larve of Milbert's
butterfly feeding in great numbers upon the nettle, and stripping the
plant of leaves. Two broods are reared in a season. The larvse
closely resemble Aniiopfe, but are only about half as large.- Frank
H. Foster, Sec. 440.
66. Dodecalheon Vzrgzinian.- In the August number, I noticed a
sketch of one of the prettiest of our wild flowers. Thirty years ago,
these charming spring flowers were found in great abundance and
diversity in fresh clearings. They vary from the purest white to
deep purple. They belong to the primrose family.-Constant
Reader and Subscriber from the beginning of ST. NICHOLAS.
67. Sporiive fi'lowers.--We have made some very interesting dis-
coveries. We have found pure white and striped violets which are
of the common blue species, but in some way affected by their sur-
roundings; also, anemones ;'.n- fourteen to eighteen rows of
petals, making them appear :. I. I. roses; also, a wind-anemone
with four petals in their proper places, and one farther down on
the stalk; also, a mullein-stalk,'over seven feet high.- Ralph H.
Pomeroy, Sec., Brooklyn.
68. Leaf-himpressi'on.-In grading for a railroad near here, there
was found a rock containing, when broken, a fossil plant or plant-
impression. it closely resembles a stalk of corn, both in leaf and
fiber. It belongs to the carboniferous period. We think it is a
reed. We wish to correspond with Chapters west and south.-Will
Searight ce-. ? :;d and Liberty Streets, Pittsburg, Pa.
69. P Puff-balls, in the family of Gasteromycetes.
i. U. S. Species of Lycoperdon, by Chas. H. Peck, A. 1M., 1879.
(The only special American work.)
2. Frie's System of Mycologicum. (Describes species of puff-balls,
some of them found in U. S.) .
3. Sweinitz's Synopsis of N. A. Fungi. (Contains some Gastero-
mycetes, or puff-balls.)
4. Berkeley's and Cook's Books on British Fungi, and Smith's
Book on English Plants, contain species of fungi.
The first mentioned is sufficient for all ordinary purposes.
Dr. Augustus Foerste.
70. Books onl Shells.-
r. For general use, I recommend Woodward's Manual of Molhisca,
which is within the reach of all, and, besides illustrating the
genera, affords excellent instruction for beginners.
2. Our N. A. Land and Fresh Water Species have been ably treated
by Binney and Bland, most of whose works can be obtained at
nominal cost by addressing Mr. Spencer F. Baird, Sec. of Smith-
sonian Institute, Washington, D. C.
3. A small work on Common Sea Shells of California, published by
Prof Josiah Keep, of Alameda, Cal.-Harry E. Dore.
71. Owls.-In answer to a question in the January number, I
think that owls do not move their eyes in their sockets. If you go


TER-BOX. 421


ble, and also many letters that have been sent in reply to the gutta-
percha question. Our thanks are due especially to G. M. Lawton,
Walter A. Mathews, Georgia B. Hawes, Andrew C., Ada L. Cook,
Herbert Roberts, Amy Angell Collier, Frederick William P., Carrie
R. Murray, C. Hamlin Reeves, Miriam Oliver, Willie T. Nicoll,
Carrie McC., E. D. McC., V. J., Gracie E. Wilson, Grace Nettle-
ton, C. B. W., Kate M. Drew, Phcebe McNeal, Madeleine Miller,
Helen W. Soule, Mary A. F., Florence Rosenbaum, "Daisy," John
F. Minaldi, Jessie A. Smith, "F. H.," Hilda Schoenthal, Jennie R.,
Lina Brooks, Maud Miller, Guy Smith, J. Mills Anderson, Jennie
Hitchcock, May Harris, Reginald."








THE LETTER-BOX.


near a cage in which an owl is confined, and walk to and fro, he will
move his head as you go.--Herbert Westwood.
"I see it stated in 'Facts and Phases of Animal Life' that owls
can not move their eyes in their sockets, but they can turn their heads
very far around so as look down their own backs."- E. B. Smyth.
[Similar answers from M. E. Goodrich and others.]
72. Silk-worms- What they will eat.- Not being able to obtain
white mulberry leaves, which are, I believe, the only mulberry
leaves on which the Bombyx mori sill thrive, I fed them on leaves
of Osage-orange. At the time I was raising about 2000 larvae.
These leaves must be plucked sometime before, so as to allow them
to wilt before giving them to the worms. This rule must be rigidly
observed. I made an experiment to test it. I placed four healthy
worms in a sieve by themselves, and fed them exclusively on fresh
leaves. They grew wonderfully, and reached their largest size before
the others; but as soon as they began to spin they grew sickly and
weak, and after forming slight cocoons, died entangled in the silk.
Most of those fed on wilted .-.... well. If the question were
simply, What will silk-wor.. I might answer, with a.good
degree of accuracy, that th. ... .. 1 r. -. but as I
know you desire to know i.. 1 .. i I..-.ily recom-
mend Osage-orange.- A Friend of the A. A.
[Similar answers from Frank L. Jones, M. D., who adds the
scientific name of the Osage-( ... .
and states that it grows in all I .. :. I ***
Mr. P. M. Floyd and others.]
73. Flowers under a handkerchief.- We came to a spot which
Dr. Hammond covered with his handkerchief, and we guessed how
many kinds of plants were growing under it. There were ten: a
violet, a dandelion, an aster, a buttercup, a hepatica, a fern, a
Michella vine, a daisy, a plantain, a veronica.- Emily S. Warren.
74. Winter. I feel as keen delight in the approach of winter as I
should if spring, with all her glories, were at the gate. For me, the
vast white carpet, absolutely without a stain, the low-hanging sun,
and the trees that respond to the winter wind, have peculiar charms.
- Linwood M. Howe, Hallowell, Me.
75. Streams drying up.- The streams in this part of Maine seem
to be gradually dwindling. Can this be owing to the destruction of
our forests ?-L. M. H.
76. Cow Black-bird.-I found four cow-th--' e'' ;i a nest with
one egg of the Wilson's thrush. Has any ...: .:. r ..-..! so many
in one nest?- X.
77. Night-hawk asleep.- Last August, I saw, about seven o'clock
one evening, what I took to be a dead bird lying on a stone
wall by the road-side. It was half lying, half leaning, against a
stone. I clambered up the bank to get it, making.some noise. Just
as I put out my hand to pick it up, with a great flap and rush by
my face, the bird soared up into the air. As soon as it opened its
wings, I knew it to be a night-hawk by the white spots on the under-
side of them, and by the peculiar cry it uttered.-Wm. Carter.
78. Hfumming-birds learn by experience.- A young lady watched
some humming-birds taking nectar from the flowers of our abutilon.
The full-grown birds pushed their bills in between the calyx and
corolla, just as the bees I wrote of some months ago nipped a
hole in the petunias, in order to get more easily at the nectar. But
the most curious thing is, that the young birds tried to take their
drink in the ordinary way, by going inside the bell of the flower,
and it was only as they grew in wisdom and stature that they
learned from their parents the shorter way. The young lady is
quite confident that the smaller birds were not of a different kind,
but the young of the larger birds.- C.
QUESTIONS.
Is it a common thing for flowers to change their color in different
years? We have a rose that, formerly pale yellow, has changed
first to pink and then to white.- Mary R. Ridgway.
How are pebbles formed ? How many kinds of iron ore are found
in America? What are the causes of earthquakes?- Chicago, E.
per Frank W. Wentworth.
Are there galleries in the homes of ants ? Do ants live through
the winter? Explain the phenomenon of frogs raining down?
What causes, and what is, the blue part of the flame next the gas-
jet?- C. F. G.
What is attacks cynthia?-X.
I have been trying unsuccessfully to find something about sea-
beans ? Will not some one help me ?-A. S. G.
What are the two red spots on the back of the Rusty Vapor
Moth? I had one under the microscope, and the red spots moved
and a black spot appeared and then disappeared.- F. V. Corregan
REPORTs FRon CHAPTERS.
283. Greenfield, Mass.--We take with pleasure from the Spring-
.feld Republican the following encouraging notice of Chapter 283,
Greenfield, Mass., and shall be grateful to all secretaries of other
Chapters who will send us copies of papers that contain mention of
their work:
Principal Sanderson started a good deal of zeal among the high
school pupils, some two years ago, in the study of natural history,


and as a result the natural history society was organized. The
work began in a small way in the collection of birds, plants, and
minerals, until the foundation has been laid for a permanent museum.
The Society now has one large case of stuffed birds, containing 150
well-preserved specimens. These are mostly native birds, caught
and mounted by members of the Society. Several in this way
have become quite expert taxidermists. In the list, however,
are found some rare birds, including the beautiful 'Ruby Topaz'
humming-bird, the 'Rosy Starling' and the 'Coppersmith' from
India, while the horned owl and the blue kingfisher have been
found in the neighboring woods. There are also some cases of
insects, and any quantity of birds' eggs. The Society belongs to
... and by exchanges has added to some of the
.1: .'., .. i I organization is made up of thirty-six mem-
bers, who were ambitious enough, last fall, to hire of the town the old
brick house near the high-school building, paying a rental of $150 a
year. These youthful scientific investigators want encouragement
from the citizens at large, and are going to ask the town, at its
annual meeting, to contribute the rent of this building. It would
seem that the voters could very properly encourage the young
people in this way. As the natural history rooms are located close
to the high-school building, it can very readily be made a beneficial
adjunct to the public schools. Already the zoological classes have
enjoyed r1.-. i ; -these rooms and their collections."
339. ; -We have taken two sails on Great Salt Lake.
A small island was found, inhabited by gulls, pelicans, and cranes.
It was covered with eggs and young birds. As we approached the
island, the old birds flew up in clouds, making a noise that was
almost deafening. The pelicans' nests were formed of-sticks, and
contained from two to four large white eggs each.
Last month, five of the members went to Strawberry Valley. It is
high up on the tops of the mountains, being between 8000 and 9000
feet above the sea. The sides are thickly covered with firs, pines,
etc., among which are many kinds of game. The hunters shot five
deer. We saw quite a number of beaver-dams, and learned much
about the habits of animals.
On the way home, we visited some curious warm springs. They
flow from cone-shaped mounds, 20 or 30 feet high, formed of calcare-
ous tufa. We saw one filled to within a few feet of the top, and the
orifice, which was 25 feet in diameter, was almost perfectly round.
The following will show something of the progress we have made
in our collections. The entomologist now has 800o insects, the
botanist has collected 325 species of plants, and the geologist has
170 minerals, 170 fossils, and o9 species of shells. Another member
has 9 varieties of eggs, including pelicans' and gulls'.- Arthur G.
Leonard.
395. Montreal, Canada.-We have a splendid cabinet, 6 feet high,
3 feet wide, and 2 feet deep, containing forty-eight drawers, twenty-
two of which are allotted to the entomological section. Nineteen of
these are already filled with insects. Our library promises to become
a great success. We are trying to secure a room in the St. Antoine
School for a museum and reading-room. We have had two very suc-
cessful field-meetings, on one of which prizes were offered for the
best'collection made during the day. I expect to see the Montreal
branch of the A. A. '-"-e .1 A~lrn position among the scientific in-
stitutions of Canada '* r ..r most successful evenings was
spent with the microscope, and I was fairly astonished to see how
the attention of even. the smallest boy was secured, and to note his
horror on : .r..... that the "lobster" under the glass was only a
flea!-W. -I., I
132. BuZfalo, B, N. Y.-We have at present twenty-two active
members. Our meetings are held once a week in the library of the
Society of Natural Science. The aggregate of our collections is
minerals, 2450; fossils, 1350; insects, 450; eggs, 165. We have sent
you, as a New Year's token, a box of minerals and fossils which fairly
represent our local geology.- Chas. W. Dobbins.
[For the beautiful specimens, please accept our hearty thanks.]
AMerai, TyroL--Our Chapter is traveling in Europe, and in a
week we hope to go to Italy. We have been working steadily,
and during the summer have collected and pressed about 412
botanical specimens.--H. Ries, with Mrs. Richter, care Brown,
Shipley & Co., London, Eng.
Neuchdtcl, Switzerland.- We have formed a traveling Chapter
of the A. A., with four members.- Kenneth Brown, Sec.
St. Paul, Minn.--We began our Chapter with six members, and
in six months have increased to fifteen. We held a fair and cleared
$14.08.-Philip C. Allen, St. Paul, C.
In closing our report for March, we must express our belief that
our Association has never been so hard at work and, consequently,
never so truly prosperous, as now. We beg all our young friends
who have written us long and interesting letters, and have not yet
seen extracts from them in print, to have patience, remembering
that where there are 6370 hands to be shaken, it can not be done in
a moment.
Address all communications to the President,
HARLAN H. BALLARD,
Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.


[MARCH,








THE RIDDLE-BOX.





THE RIDDLE-BOX.


[ ,









THE above picture should first be read as a rebus. The result
will be a four-line charade. This should, in turn, be solved as if it
were printed like similar charades. The first and second parts of
the word are defined phonetically. The one word which is the an-
swer is the name of a Shakesperian play. The answer to the rebus
on the bellows is a prominent exponent of the principal character of
this play. G. F.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

My primals name a famous musical composer, who died in March,
1827; my finals name a queen, who died in the same month, but
over two hundred years previous.
Cross-words: i. To sew slightly. 2. Found in a studio. 3.
Listlessness. 4. A precious stone. 5. A famous volcano. 6. A
town of Servia near the city of Nissa. 7. Indefinite. 8. The world.
9. To whinny. MARK TAPLEY."

NUMIERICAL ENIGMA.
I AM composed of ninety-three letters, and am part of a poem by
"H. H."
My o0-49-34-65-36 is a sharp instrument for cutting. My 69-i8-
85-12 is a nimbus. My 66-20-53-44-74-40 is powerful. My 47-70-


423








62-31-67-89 is the workshop
of an artist. My 57-7-48-68
is the green cormorant. My
8-61-45-90 is the fleecy coat
of the sheep. My 27-79-1-6-
64-59-24-71 is a large snake
of South America. My 38-88-
28-93-73 is primary. My 52-
9-58-14 is warmth. My 21-
84-35-91 is liked by a boy in
windy weather. My 25-54-
43-3 is the instrument bywhich
a ship is steered. My 15-75-
41-46 is the body of an old
ship. My 4-23-92-22-33-55-
63-2-42 is aversion. My 76-
17-32-29 is the reddish coat-
img on iron exposed to moist
air. My 77-51-19-30-13 is to
scatter. My 72-16-81-86-56is
the principal course of a din-
ner. My 82-39-60-So-78-I
-80 is sometimes the last
course of a dinner. My 5-37-
8'-26-83 is a wanderer.
CORNELIA LIMBER"


S I '^ PROGRESSIVE
DIAMONDS.


S2 345


345


St I. a. In amenable. 2. Bus-
Stle. 3. To reverence. 4. A
compound of metal. 5.In amenable.
Q II. I. In amenable. 2. Kindled. 3.
Flexible. 4. A useful article. 5. In amenable.
o III. I. In amenable. 2 A flying animal. 3. A
f marshal's staff. 4. The prevailing fashion. 5. In
S amenable. DYCIH.

SRHOMBOID.

-ACRoss: I. The weight of four grains. 2. Custom.
3. The name of the crown given by the Romans to the
person who first scaled an enemy's walls. 4. Lukewarm.
'- 5. place of deposit.
DoWNWARDo: i. A letter. 2. An exclamation. 3.
An engine of war. 4. To terminate or border. 5. Weary. 6. A
narrow fillet of linen. 7. Part of the face. 8. To perform. 9. A
letter. "A. P. OWDER, JR.
PYRAMID PUZZLE.
io
9 It
8 12
7 I3
6 14
5 15
4 16

3 7. 9
3 ............18
S.......019
Reading across:
Let T crown the pyramid which here you view;
Then take yourself twice- I mean double U;
A small sharp report now take, I beseech;
Then take what a preacher takes when he would preach;
Of "income" to take the reverse is now meet;
Now, a volume made up of eight leaves to a sheet;
Next, take one who rivals yourself, if you dare;
Take of earnings divided your own proper share;
Now take a word meaning just, even, or right;
Last of all, you may name the chief one in a fight.
Take from one to nineteen, or from nineteen to one
(It makes not the least difference under the sun),
And at once you will see, as a kind of a border,
These six words, which are *** *** ** ** ** **** c. c. D.








THE RIDDLE-BOX.


A LENTEN PUZZLE.


[MARCH.


-Tow
'i/ vp :;~N
Jt:.44 i tveT; ___


I


--~-_ .. -~


A ..

- .


ARRANGE these ten articles upon the shelf in such a way that they
may be read as a rebus. The sentence thus formed is a maxim from
" Poor Richard's Almanac." G. W. B.
CHARADE.
M first it is dark but my second is bright
When in a cold firs at its door you alight.
My lhird fills my first with dismay and affright;
But my whole cheers my first with its song of delight.
"THE WHOLE FAMILY."
WORD SYNCOPATIONS.
EXAMPLE: Syncopate a small boy from an illness, and leave a
month of blossoms. ANSWER: Ma-lad-y.
i. Syncopate a dairy product from a mendicant, and leave a di-
vision in music. 2. Syncopate a measure of weight from small por-
tions of territory, and leave cups for liquids. 3. Syncopate a


.IT' *^







'- \- ,,. ,,






number from made plump, and leave doomed. 4. Syncopate con-
sumed from a stove, and leave a pronoun. 5. Syncopate a pronoun
from cleansed, and leave to stuff. 6. Syncopate a fowl from pagans,
and leaves warms.
Each of the syncopated words contains the same number of let-
ters; when these words are placed one below another in the order
here given, the central row of letters will spell the name of a German
poet who died on March 22d, 1832. F. s. F.
DROP-LETTER PUZZLE.
M*r*h *r*s* n*v*r *i* g*o*.
MARGERY MIDGET."
PI.
How sthoos ta het dim-yad nus, gouthh eh si ruse eh lashl veern
ith het-karm, ety sa ruse eh si, hatt eh lashl hosto gerhih hant eh
how sima tub ta a shub. M. v.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER.
SHAKESPEAREAN PUZZLE. Give every man thine ear, but few A BIRD LETTER. I. Canary. 2. Crow. 3. Hen. 4. Owl. 5.
thy voice." Answer to rebus, Edwin Booth. Robin. 6. Wren. 7. Crane.
ZIGZAG. Washington. Cross-words: i. Ware. 2. rAnk. 3. CENTRAL SYNCOPATIONS AND REMAINDERS. Nebuchadnezzar.
maSk. 4. lasH. 5. spIn. 6. sNug. 7. Glow. 8. sTir. 9. blOt. i. pi-N-ts. 2. dr-E-am. 3. sa-B-le. 4. mo-U-th: 5. du-C-al. 6.
to. claN. CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. Neptune. et-H-er (Peter). 7. ch-A-in. 8. pe-D-al. 9. bi-N-ds. io. br-E-ad.
REVERSIBLE CROSSES. I. From I to 5, part; 2 to 5, girt; nx. do-Z-er. 12. wi-Z-en. 13. Sp-A-in. 14. ca-R-ts.
3 to 5, loot; 4 to 5, edit. II. From I to 5, meet; 2 to 5, mart; BEHEADED RHYMES. I. Prelate. II. Trailed.
3 to 5, toot; 4 to 5, emit. CHARADE. Phan-tom. ANAGRAMS. T. Astronomical. 2. Balladist. 3. Caravan. 4.
ACROSTIC. From 5 to 8, Ossa; 9 to 12, Arno; 13 to 16, Horn. Delegated. 5. European. 6. Fantastic.
From i to 4, from i to 13, and from 16 to 4, Noah. DIAMOND. I.S. 2. Led. 3. Laces. 4. Secular. 5. Delft. 6.
SHAKESPEAREAN NUMERICAL ENIGMA. Sat. 7. R.
Golden lads and girls all must, DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Penny; finals, royal. Cross-
As chimney sweepers, come to dust. words: i. PouR. 2. EchO. 3. NavY. 4. NorA. 5. YawL.
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 JANUARY NUMBER were received, before January 20, from Arthur Gride-Maggie T. Turrill-
Clark and Lowell Eddie and Oscar -Hugh and Cis Francis W. Islip.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JANUARY NUMBER were received, before January 20, from Edith M.Van Dusen, x-Helen Ballantine, i
-Willie Mossman, 2-Georgie Denton, 2-Alma Hoffman, --Bessie Perault, 3- Hannah Harwood Greene, I- M. M. i-Geo.
P. Miller, 5- Helen and Adelbert S. Hay, 2- C. W. Woodward, Hattie K. Toles, I--James W. Fiske, i- Horace R. Parker, 7
--Blanche H. and Annie L. 2 -Arthur, 3- F. and H. Davis, 8- Manny Neuburger, i -" Mrs. Nickleby," Samuel Workman, i
- Maude H. Bucknor, 7-H. E. C. 2 Bertha Feldwisch, 5- William C. Marshall, r Eva M. Shelow, i-- Emma T. Screws, -
Ned V. Shipsey, 3-"Ed and Ben," 8-Lilian V. Leach, i- Maude, Annie, and Carrie, 5--Fin. I. S. 7-R. K. Miller, i-Millie
Kendall. 4 -" Little Buttercup," Alice Close, 3- Daisy Moss, Edith Helen Moss, I Hans Veidt, 5 -Jessie E. Jenks, T- C.
Chas. Ernst, Jr. i -May Whitsit, Effie K. Talboys, 5- Mamie and Lillie Brown, 7 -Austin H. Pease, 8- Mrs. J. Frank Reeves, i
-'- ::1-:. M. Adelsberger, .-Lucia T. H. 2-Alex. Laidlaw, 8-Bessie Rogers and Co. 9-Theo. Megaarden, x-Paul Reese. 6
-'- r, i.: Howard Williams, -- Mary P. Stockett, 5 -Olive Durant, Julia T. Nelson, 4- Harry F. Whiting, 4- W. T. and M.
L. 7-W. L. Keleher, i-Mary C. Burnam, 7-Mamie Hitchcock, 8-Upton, 6-Helen Hollister, --T. S. Palmer, 8-D. B.
Shumway, 9 Almeda H. Curtis, I -Millie White, 8 Willie Sheraton, 3 -Jessie A. Platt, 8 -Amateur Editor, i Maria Fagersten, -
Clara J. Child, 7 Vessie Westover and Eva Roddin, 8 Dorothy, 7.





















































































9




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