_ aggt~~ 1~
[Copyright, 1884, by THE CENTURY CO.]
A HERO OF LEXINGTON
BY W. W. FINK.
" I HAD two bullets in my pouch,
Two charges in my horn,
When British red-coats gayly came
To Lexington that morn."
The veteran gravely said the words,
And paused, and silent grew;
But Johnny raised the lashes from
His wondering eyes of blue,
And cried: "Oh grandpa, tell me all!
How many did you slay?
'T was glorious if each bullet killed
A Britisher that day! "
The veteran smiled upon the child;
" You think so now," said he;
" But the wreath of fame on Victory's brow
Is the badge of misery.
" Too well you know the story, dear,
To ask for its repeating;
How, back from Concord, came the foe
Toward Boston swift retreating.
" A proud young officer passed by,
And, standing near a wall,
I raised my rifle to my eye,
Resolved that he should fall.
" With steady nerve and earnest aim
I drew a bead; and then --
Well, then the proud young officer
Marched onward with his men!-
" One charge was in my powder-horn,
One in my rusty gun."
" And killed you not a single man? "
" Not one, my boy, not one !
" You 're angry, dear, and so was I,
For my patriot blood was hot;
But I 've thanked the Lord a thousand times
That He staid the deadly shot;
" For, when the war was o'er at last,
The man I tried to kill
Became my friend,- I see him now
Just coming 'round the hill! "
"Why, that is father "-" Yes, my boy;
Run to the house and bring
My rifle, now, and let me prove
That war 's a cruel thing.
' You wished that I had killed him then -
Suppose I kill him now! "
.- The child gazed on the veteran's face
And fiercely frowning brow;
And then, forgetting Lexington
And glory's glittering charms,
Turned traitor, and abruptly fled
To the red-coat's fondling arms.
FAIRY LODGE. [APRIL,
BY MARY A. LATHBURY.
i fF there is yet any faith in fairies,
it is to be found among little
girls,-the dear maiden-
kind," so ready to believe in
"whatsoever things are love-
ly "; and it is to them that I
wish to tell the story of Fairy
Is it true?" you ask.
Yes, perfectly true, as far as
the Lodge is concerned. As to the fairies, I can
not certainly say that I have seen them.
On the level brow of a mountain, within a hun-
dred miles of the office of ST. NICHOLAS, stands a
lovely home-lovely, because love has done so
much toward making it what it is; and love, aided
by a creative faculty, can do marvelous things.
The home has a fine forest around it, which, out
of regard for the fairies, I suppose, is left much
as nature would have kept it. There are many
beautiful and interesting things in and around the
home, gathered from foreign lands and from our
own, and nothing has been left undone that could
help to make the six children of the home wise
But the happiest thought of all was the building
of Fairy Lodge.
There was the forest, to be sure; but what place
was there for the dear, old-fashioned, household
fairies ? The home was too stately by far, and no
fairy could be comfortable in a modern house; so
there was built, first in the thought of the home,
and afterward among the trees near by it, a log
cabin, that must have seemed at least two hundred
years old to the fairies when they first discovered
it; and as they never stop their pranks to reason
about time or place, I suppose they took possession
at once without question.
There was this stipulation made (if the fairies
ever listened to it), that they and the other house-
hold fairies-the six children-should occupy it
jointly and harmoniously for purposes of work and
play, and so it has been occupied to this day ; and
I have never heard of a collision between the two
parties, though the children would be glad of any
collision that would give them an opportunity of
seeing the fairies. During the day the Lodge
belongs to the children, but at night, it is sacred to
the use of the fairies; and, if any of you have a
drop of fairy blood in your veins, you have only to
peep through the little panes of the Lodge windows
to witness some of the merriest midnight routs that
ever were seen.
There was a great deal of pleasure got out of the
building and the settling of the Lodge. I think
the great chimney must have been built first, for
that, when the logs are ablaze in it, forms the
heart and lungs of the house. The fire-place
almost fills one side of the "living-room," and all
the old-time utensils are there,-the andirons, the
crane, the tongs, the bake-kettle, and the iron tea-
kettle, while the bellows hangs by the chimney-
There are no "modern antiques" in Fairy
Lodge, and everythingis a bit of history. The cup-
board at one end of the fire-place is filled with rare
old odds and ends from many a broken set of china.
On the right of the fire-place stands the spinning-
wheel, and the great arm-chair is drawn close to
the braided rug before the fire. Then there are
chests and dressers with brass corners and handles,
and chairs, and tables with spindle legs; old-time
mirrors, and a clock with a time-worn face; and, in
a corner, stand the big wool-wheel, the swifts, and
There are interesting pictures on the log walls
-miniatures of men with high, rolling collars,
and of women with short waists and puffy sleeves;
and there are documents of historic value, yellow
with age and heavy with seals, in frames of tar-
nished gilt. There are books also, in which the
" s's are all f's," as one of the six children said,
-and psalm-books full of "quavers," "semi-
quavers," and "demi-semi-quavers."
There is a kitchen, opening out of the "living-
room," which has the modern innovation of a
cook-stove. The two elder girls practiced cookery
at the Lodge, and found it difficult to reach the best
results with a tin bake-oven and a long-handled
frying-pan. So the stove came in, and the fairies
have made no sign of disapproval; but it is evident
that they prefer to bake and brew for their mid-
night suppers at the great fire-place, for they never
touch the row of cup custards, or the wedges of
gold and silver cake that are set for them at the
close of a five o'clock tea.
On those long and lovely days when there are
guests at the home, the Lodge, as you may im-
agine, is a cozy retreat for the girls and their
friends. There is the last recipe from the Cook-
ing Club to be tried in the morning, and a tea at
five o'clock. There is no hurry, for there is no
FAIRY LODGE. 429
heavy work to be done before company" comes.
There is chatting and laughing on the "back
stoop," and lounging and dreaming on the front
porch, where sitting under one's own vine and fig-
tree in utter content is only interrupted by sudden
flights to the kitchen to see if the oven is hot, or
if the cake is getting too brown. After the baking,
there are dishes to wash, and the dish-towels to
rinse and hang outside, and then there is nothing
to do again except rest and read, until it is time
to "set the table for tea.
There is an old-fashioned flower-garden in front
of the Lodge, which must be dear to the garden
fairies. It is laid out in square "beds," with walks
derly by everybody in the home,-for there was a
"planting of the apple-tree" one May-day, when
the baby-girl was just one year old, and all the
elder apple-trees wore pink and white that day,
and the little girl wears the apple-blossom ever
since as her own flower.
From November until May the fairies have full
possession of the Lodge, and it is supposed that
the frost-sprites, who drift down from the North
during that season, make it their head-quarters;
for often, of a winter's morning, there are traces
on the window-panes of delicate and lovely lace-
work, such as only frost-sprites know how to make.
Their advance couriers work wonders of color with
/ II -,
16 ',*. -
I *.. -,
- --' ,
-- ., ,: .I L u .
between, and there are grass-pinks and portu-
lacca in the borders, with settings of marigold and
larkspur, of corn-lily and peony and poppies, all
entangled with vagrant sweet-pea and morning-
glory; while, farther back, stand hollyhocks and
sunflowers in a stately row. And the old-fashioned
flowers have had the honor of going, each sum-
mer, with the flowers from the home conserva-
tories, in thousands of bouquets, through the
Flower Mission, to the city hospitals and the sick-
rooms of the poor.
In one of the garden beds near the Lodge,
stands a little apple-tree, watched over very ten-
the maple and the sumach all over the mountain-
side in October, and rattle the chestnuts down
like hail; but on the first warm day in April, the
sprites themselves vanish, lest their wings should
melt in the sun.
For a last picture, we will go back to the day
when the Lodge, finished and furnished, gathered
its friends to the "hanging of the crane." There
were many guests, honored and beloved, who had
gathered the day before to assist in the dedication
of the little church near by, and who remained, at
the invitation of the young people, to the "house-
warming" at Fairy Lodge. It was a happy, old-
i 7 -~ ~~
time affair, where two of the young daughters
from the home, assisted by four of their friends,
stood in a stately row and "received." I have said.
stately, for the maidens were arrayed in the gar-
ments of their grandmothers,-the high, powdered
coiffure, the gay brocades, and the silks that would
"stand alone "; the yellow lace and kerchief, worn
baked beans, doughnuts, and pumpkin pie; and the
young people were served to toasts and speeches
by wise and reverend men who had assisted at
many a state and college banquet, but whose heads
were almost turned by this occasion ; for who would
not forget fifty years of his life and his degree to
find himself a boy at home again, with the back-
'UNDIRI ON!.'! OWN YINI? AND) 1IG-TIIEN.
years before their present wearers were born; the
simpler hood and gown of the Puritan girl, and the
bridal dress and veil worn by the grandmother of
one little maid fifty years before.
After the greetings of welcome, there was a gen-
uine merry-making, and the guests were served by
their young hostesses to a collation, which included
log blazing in the old fire-place, the kettle singing
drowsily on the crane, and a row of apples roasting
on the hearth ?
In the midst of this wholly unconventional feast
(for time, if not space, had been unceremoniously
hustled out of doors), the head of the home rose to
ask a question.
Children, what is mamma's favorite motto ? in it, when all joined hands and sang-the old
"The two F's,-' Faith and Fun,' was the voices and the young-dear Auld Lang Syne,"
ready response, and then passed out through the little flower-
Yesterday, we dedicated a house to faith, and to- garden, leaving the Lodge to the fairies.
INTERIOR OF FAIRY LODGE.
day we dedicate another to -Fzm/ Shall it be so ?" How shall I close without describing the fairy
The answer was what might have been expected, fete that took place that night! I think it is really
THE HOSTESSES OF "FAIRY LODGE" RECEIVE IN FANCY DRESS.
and the hour that followed was quite in the line of
the suggestion, but at the last was tempered into
something that had less of fun and more of faith
a greater disappointment to me than to you that I
am unable to do so, for I am afraid that many of
you have already begun to be unbelievers in one
HOW BRIGHT BENSON GOT HIS APPOINTMENT
side of my story, while to me Nature has a living the Lodge three times, unwinding a ball of wool
personality that easily takes form, and I think I that has neverbeen dyed, and then throwing the
am getting my second-sight." ball over the chimney-top, I shall be able to see
Indeed, I am almost ready to declare that on the fairies holding high carnival inside;- in which
Hallow-Eve next, after walking backward around case I promise to tell you all about it.
S.. ..- _-.. _-.-..
HOW BRIGHT BENSON GOT HIS APPOINTMENT
TO THE NAVAL ACADEMY.
BY REV. C. R. TALBOT.
BRIGHTMAN BENSON came out of the little
weather-beaten red house that stands on the rising
ground overlooking the Cove, and walked slowly
down toward the beach, reading a newspaper as
he went. Suddenly, he stopped short and stood
for a moment, staring at a paragraph that had
caught his eye. Then, with an air of vexation, he
crushed the paper angrily together and thrust it
into his pocket, starting on again at a quicker pace
and presently turning off upon the narrow wharf
that ran out from the beach into deep water.
He went out to the end of the wharf and sat down
upon the cap-log, dropping his chin into his hands
and gazing down moodily into the water.
"What be ye doin', Bright? Anybuddy 'd
think your best friend 'd jest gone down for the
third time right 'fore your eyes."
A minute later, the speaker had come quietly
up behind him, and laid his hand on the boy's
shoulder. The latter recognized his voice at once.
Everybody knew everybody else's voice at Lobster
Cove,-at least, everybody knew Uncle Silas Wat-
son's. Bright answered, without looking up.
"If my best friend was out there," said he,
rather ungraciously, I should n't be sitting here
watching the place where he went down."
"Wall, now, if ye have n't ennythin' better to
do than mopin' 'round in this way, I want ye. I
've got to go down an' empty my traps. The
smack 'll be in termorrer from Deer Island, an' my
car aint harf full yet. I '11 give ye ninety cents.
Thet 's fair wages for four or five hours' work.
I could git Tink Potter, but you 're wuth two o'
him at an oar. What d' ye say?"
Bright rose up from his seat and stood a moment
with his hands in his pockets, still looking into the
water. Suddenly he turned about almost fiercely.
"Uncle Sile," he demanded, "do I look like a
person of sound body and healthy constitution ? "
The old lobsterman looked back at him with a
kind of thoughtful curiosity, presently letting his
glance run down the stout, well-built figure of the
lad to his very feet, and then back again until it
rested once more upon his manly, sun-burned
face. Sound body an' healthy constitootion?"
repeated he. "Humph Who ever saw one o'
your folks thet war n't! Ye 're not worryin' 'bout
y'r health, air ye, Bright? Why, boy, you 've got
a hunderd years ter live yet, ef ye take keer o'
y'rself. The Bensons 'r a long-lived race, I tell ye.
They come to stay, they did "
Bright nodded quickly at this, as if it were no
TO THE NAVAL ACADEMY.
more than he had expected, and then went straight
on: "Well, how about my mental abilities ? Do
you think you could say that they were fair, and
that I had any natural aptitude for study and
habits of application and persistent effort ? He
pronounced the words as if he were quoting them
from a book -as, indeed, was the case.
Uncle Silas scratched his chin. "I dunno 's
I 'm a judge o' mental abilities, said he, diffi-
dently. I was brought up on the
water, an' my eddication don't ex-
tend much 'bove high-water mark.
But I 've heerd my gal, Hetty,
say more 'n once thet you were the
smartest scholar in school, 'n' what
a pity 't was thet you could n't go
"College!" There was an odd
sort of contempt in the way Bright :,
took up the word. "I don't want .
to go to college !- at least, not to i .
any of those land-lubber concerns.
I want to go to the Naval School
at Annapolis As he finished, he
stooped down, and taking a good- ,
sized lump of iron-stone from a I
heap of ballast that had been
thrown out upon the wharf, he
sent it spinning into the air, catch- \,
ing it as it came down again as
easily as though it had been a
regulation ball. And when he j
looked at his companion, it was
out of the corner of his eye. He ',
was almost afraid of being laugh-
Uncle Sile was regarding him --
not with amusement, however, but
with increased interest. Nobody ".'
at Lobster Cove had ever aspired '
to anything like this. The com- ti -- _.
mand of a factory smack, or, at
most, of one of the big smacks
that.came once a week to take the
larger lobsters down to Portland
or Boston, was the grandest am-
bition that any Lobster Cove boy
retired list. I see one on 'em las' summer down t'
South Saint George. He came 'round inspection'
light-houses. I see him jump ashore one day with
a boat's painter, an' I '11 be painted plum-color ef
he did n't make four harf hitches 'round a post
with it." Uncle Sile threw back his head at the
recollection, and discharged into the air a volley
of peculiar sounds that were, on the whole, quite
as well calculated to provoke mirth as to express
had ever been known to enter-
tain. And yet, as he looked "WHY, BOY, YOU VE A HUNDRED YEARS TO LIVE YET, EF YE TArLKE EER O' Y'RSELF "
tain. And yet, as he looked now
at the fine young fellow before him, the old man it. He immediately recovered his soberness, how-
acknowledged that there was an element of con- ever, and returned to the subject.
sistency in the scheme. You 'd hev to write to the member o' Con-
Juniper! he observed, solemnly, ef ye gress from this deestrict f'r that, would n't ye?"
could git in, Bright, the Guvverment would n't "That is just what I did do," responded poor
be any loser by the transaction, that 's sartain Bright, bitterly. And precious little good it did
Why, you 're a better sailor this minute than me "
harf the navy chaps arter they 're put on to the Did n't he answer it? asked Uncle Sile.
HO-W BRIGHT BENSON
GOT HIS APPOINTMENT
"Yes, he answered it." Bright hesitated a
moment; and then, willing to taste of the conso-
lation which almost always comes from the narra-
tion of one's wrongs, he plunged into the rest of
the story. He answered it, and told me there
was to be a preliminary examination at B-
last Wednesday, and I could come up and try that
if I liked. I did like, and I went. There were
four other fellows besides me; and a puny-looking
set they were. I give you my word, Un'cle Sile,
I could have taken all four of 'em and knocked
their heads together just as easily as I can swim.
They would have rung, too, I warrant you. And
when it came to the mental examination, I know I
was better 'n any of'em. There was one fellow--
his name was Cushman who just made an ever-
lasting noodle of himself. He 'd have done a deal
better if he 'd kept still altogether. When we got
through, I looked at them all, and I said to
myself, Well, if any ofyou beat me at this thing,
I shall never get over blushing for myself.' I
thought I was sure of the appointment. They
told us an announcement would be made in the
papers within a day or two, and the one that was
appointed would get notice, and could then go on
to Annapolis for the regular examination. And
what do you think? This morning's paper says
that Congressman Lorrimer has appointed Cush-
man. The paper says he is the son of Mr.
Rodolphus Cushman, the B- millionaire. I
suppose that was why he got the appointment.
He don't know a marline-spike from a belayin'-
pin, and he never will "
Bright threw down the lump of iron-stone,
which had all the while remained in his hand,
with an air of complete disgust.
I vow, it 's an etarnal shame !" Uncle Silas
exclaimed, sympathetically. An' it's jest what
might 'a' ben expected, too. Thet examinationn
was a sham from beginning' to end. They did n't
mean t' give ye the appointment."
No," said Bright. They meant Cushman
should have it all the while. If I had had a rich
father and influential friends, I might have stood
some chance. But having no money and no
friends at all-" The lad stopped short and looked
down upon the ground, his eyes suddenly filling
with bitter tears. And, indeed, there was no need
for him to finish his sentence. It all went without
saying,-the slights, the injustice, the disappoint-
ment that a poor, friendless fellow, such as he,
might always expect in such a pursuit.
"Yes," continued Uncle Sile, nodding vehe-
mently It 's all a piece of p'litic'l skycainery.
Talk 'bout y'r civil service reform' They better
begin at the House o' Ripresent'tives with their
reformin'. They're ready enough t' put a 'civil
service' plank inter their platforms, an' they allus
plant their feet squarely on it when they make
their speeches; but arter electionn 's over, they
split it up f'r kindlin' mighty quick, I guess.
Nobody ever hears of it ag'in." Uncle Silas was
an ardent politician, and had frequently, before
this, delivered himself at great length upon this
very subject up at Gideon Trowbridge's grocery-
store. Well, then," he asked, finally, "what
ye goin' t' do about it, Bright ? "
Do ? repeated Bright, who had turned around
and was looking down into the water again. "Well,
I' m not going to drown myself." And with a
resolute change of manner he whirled about. In
the first place, I guess I '11 do just what the apostle
Peter did when things looked dark. I '11 'go
a-fishing.' Or, rather, I'll go a-lobstering. Come
on Where 's your dory? We '11 go and empty
Well," chimed in the old man, as they walked
off together, "I 'm not sure but that 's the best
thing you kin do, arter all. I tell ye what, this
cannin' lobsters is getting' t' be a smashin' big
business. There 's one consarn owns twenty-three
factories 'tween Casco Bay an' the Bay o' Fundy."
This was another subject upon which Uncle Sile
could wax eloquent at a moment's notice. "A boy
might do worse, Bright, than stay here an' grow up
with it. They say solderers 're getting' fifteen an'
eighteen dollars a week down ter Green's Landin'."
Poor Bright shut his teeth hard, and listened as
patiently as he could. Alas, alas Was this the
waking from his dream of naval glory? -a life-
long future spent in cracking lobsters or solder-
ing cans, in a coast of Maine lobster factory.
Poor Bright, indeed !
But whatever was to be the future career of
Brightman Benson, he was not destined to begin
it within the unsavory walls of a lobster factory.
For, a few days later, he heard that Captain Bruce
Gardner wanted a boy to go with him in his
sloop, the "Elizabeth and Jane"; and Bright
promptly applied for the position, and got it. Nor
was there in this case any violation of the princi-
ples of civil service reform. Captain Bruce wanted
an active, industrious boy, and one who knew
something about lobsters and smacks. And
although there were three other candidates for
the place, his selection of Bright was made purely
on the ground of superior merit.
All through the summer, and into the month of
September, Bright sailed with Captain Bruce in
the "Elizabeth and Jane "; and, in more sensesthan
one, he did his duty like a man. He grewbrowner
and stronger and a better sailor every day, but he
never grew more contented. There was something
TO THE NAVAL ACADEMY.
in him that would not let him settle down and be
satisfied with such a life as this. He felt that he
was made for something better; and something
better, sooner or later, he meant to be. Mean-
while, there was nothing for him just now but to
follow still the apostle's rule, and do with all his
might the thing that came to his hand. And so,
while the lobster season lasted, he stuck to the
"Elizabeth and Jane" and laid carefully away all
the money that he earned.
The lobstermen of the Maine coast are famous
politicians. They have a good deal of time, first
and last, for talking politics ; and they do not fail
to improve it. Captain Bruce Gardner was no
exception to the rule. Not that he talked with
Bright very much. He never got any encourage-
ment to do so. But he found plenty of others to
talk with, in his cruising to and fro among the
different lobster-fishing grounds; and when at last
the fall election came around, he arranged his trips
so as to be home at Lobster Cove for election day.
They arrived at the Cove the night before, and
Captain Bruce told Bright he could have the next
thirty-six hours for a holiday. So Bright dressed
himself up and went ashore to spend the night
with his aunt, Mrs. Alvinah Pond, who lived up on
the hill in the little red house.
The next morning, however, the Captain came
to him, with something of an apologetic air, and
said that he had work for him, after all. He wanted
him to take the Elizabeth and Jane" down to Egg
Island and bring up a gang of ship-carpenters, who
were at work there. There were over twenty of
them, all Lobster Cove men, and they were to have
come up on the steamer the night before, so as to
be at home to vote. But something had happened
to the steamer, so that she had missed her trip, and
there was no way for the men to get home unless
they were sent for. It was well known how they
would have voted; and it had been suddenly dis-
covered that their votes were of the utmost impor-
tance. A dispatch had come down from B--
that morning, saying that the vote in the district
would be an extremely close one, and that a score
of votes might decide it. Lobster Cove must do its
duty. Captain Bruce explained all this to Bright.
And then, with a wink, he concluded: "Ye see,
Bright, for sartain reasons I'm particularly anxious
that our Congressman, Lorrimer, should get in
agin. I'm bound to do my outermost, an' I'm goin'
to let 'em have my sloop to go down for the men.
I can't go. I 've got to stay right here all day.
But it 'il be all right."-He winked again.-"I '11
see that you git ten dollars out o' the gin'ral fund
for your day's work. Gid Trowbridge's boy '11 go
with you to tend jib-sheet."
Bright had thrown up his head a little when
Captain Bruce mentioned the money. Cap'n,"
said he, "I'll go. Of course, '11 go. But I don't
go for the money, and I wont take it. I'll go be-
cause it's my business to go. I suppose I'm to
start right away. I'll see Tom Trowbridge myself,
if you like."
Five minutes before he started, as he was pulling
the "Elizabeth and Jane around to the head of
the wharf, Uncle Silas Watson came down.
Juniper, but this is lucky for you, Bright!
Who 'd 'a' thought 't would be you 't was t' go
down arter those fellers? Ef they get up here,
they '11 vote for Lorrimer, every mother's son on
'em. An' twenty votes may elect him. You don't
want thet, Bright,-no more 'n some others on us.
You have n't forgot how he treated you 'bout that
appointment. Besides,"-here he put his hand to
his mouth as though the wind was blowing, and
spoke in a solemn whisper,-" they say up town
thet Cushman could n't pass th' examination, arter
all,-he 's near-sighted, or weak-eyed, or some-
thin',-an' we've put our heads together, up at
Trowbridge's, an' made up our minds that ef Len-
nox, the other man, is elected we '11 make him ap-
p'intyouz." The old man paused a moment and
looked at Bright, giving him at the same time a
nudge with his elbow. How 'd ye like that,
Bright? Eh ? Then Captain Bruce was seen
coming down the wharf, and Uncle Silas went on
rapidly, without waiting for any answer : Ye
understand, Bright ? Th' polls close at six o'clock.
Ef they don't git here 'fore that, they can't vote.
You 've got it all in y'r own hands. A word to the
wise, ye know." He gave Bright another significant
nudge; and then, as Captain Bruce drew near, he
began talking in an entirely different tone about a
big lobster that had been trapped down at South
Saint George the week before, and that weighed
Uncle Silas lent his hand to help get up the
"Elizabeth and Jane's" mainsail, and a few minutes
later the sloop's bow was shoved off, and she moved
slowly away from the wharf. Captain Bruce stood
on the cap-log and yelled out his orders and in-
structions as long as he could b1e heard. You
get the men up here somehow, Bright, ef ye
stand the old boat on eend an' jerk the mast
clean out. She '11 be paid for, I reckon. Ye
wont have much wind this morning but there'll
be plenty of it this arft'noon, or I miss my guess.
Now, remember, -you get 'em here." He shook
his finger at the departing smack; and then hle and
Uncle Silas went back to the town-house together,
each of them chuckling silently at his own thoughts.
Egg Island lies a long way southward and east-
ward from Lobster Cove, four hours' sail, at least,
as the wind was now. Three short tacks and a
HOW BRIGHT BENSON GOT HIS APPOINTMENT
long one took the "Elizabeth and Jane out of the to the Naval School, but he had not gotten over the
Cove and well by Broomcorn Point, and then it disappointment that his failure had caused him,
was simply squaring away, with the wind, what and for that failure he had always held the distin-
there was of it, nearly astern, for a long run down guished Representative responsible. And now the
the bay. time had come when he could take his revenge.
Bright had enough of time to think that morning, Bright stood there at the hefm and turned this
and enough to think about. It was not Captain thought over in his mind, and it can not be denied
Bruce's final directions, but the last words that that it was very sweet to him. He tightened his
Uncle Silas Watson had said to him that were up- grasp upon the tiller, with a sudden sense of power.
permost in his mind. Bright
knew something about local pol-
itics, although he was not much
of a politician. He knew that
in that district the balance was,
as Uncle Silas had said, very
close. Two years before, Lorri-
mer had gone in by a majority
that had, after a deal of count- "Now, REMEMBER,-
ing and re-counting on the part HI
of the opposition, been finally reduced to less than
a dozen votes. Men were looking out sharply every-
where, calculating every chance and straining every
nerve. Those twenty-odd votes from Egg Island
might be the votes to decide the matter. And if they
were, Lorrimer would get his reflection. It was cer-
tain that the ship-carpenters, for reasons connected
with their business, would vote for him to a man.
Here, then, was Bright's chance to pay Mr. Con-
gressman Lorrimer what he owed him. The boy
might have given up his dream of an appointment
YOU GET 'EM HERE CALLED CAPTAIN BRUCE, SHAKING
S FINGER AT THE DEPARTING SMACK.
All at once, by a very simple combination of cir-
cumstances, he found the political fate of the mem-
ber of Congress in his very hands,-he, the poor,
friendless fellow who, three months before, had
been despised and rejected because of his poverty
and friendlessness. He had but to delay a little
the course of the "Elizabeth and Jane" by some
slight neglect or accident-that could be man-
aged, he well knew, with perfect ease,-and the
thing was done. Yes, it cannot be denied that
the thought was a pleasant one to Brightman Ben-
TO TIE NAVAL ACADEMY.
son. He dwelt upon it; he reveled in it; he laid
his plans for its execution in a dozen different ways
again and again, always picturing to himself at the
last the disappointed Congressman reading in the
morning paper with rage and mortification the
news of his defeat, just as, three months before,
Bright himself had read the news of his defeat.
And then there was another thought that fol-
lowed this and was in harmony with it. Uncle Si-
las had said something about the other candidate,
too, and that if he were elected the appointment
to the Academy might after all be obtained.
Bright knew what this meant, also. He knew
that appointments to positions of all kinds were
constantly given in just this way, in return for serv-
ices rendered at election time. And he felt sure
that such a service as this that was expected of
him, if it were successful, could hardly be refused
its reward. It was too important, and too much
would depend upon its being kept secret. And,
although, when long ago he had read the news of
Cushman's appointment, he thought he had given
up all hope of attaining the object of his ambition,
yet now he knew that it was not so. Deep down
in his heart he had always kept a forlorn, unrea-
sonable hope that something might happen that
would give him the appointment after all. And
now, thinking over all that he had heard that
morning, he brought that hope forth again, and
cherished it and encouraged it until it became as
strong and as dear to him as ever.
Nevertheless, the Elizabeth and Jane," as skill-
fully handled as any lobster-smack ever was, made
the very best of the moderate breeze that blew;
and at one o'clock by her skipper's old silver
watch, she came up to the wind and dropped her
anchor in Egg Island basin. There was no time
to lose, and Bright, leaving Tom Trowbridge in
charge, went ashore at once. The carpenters
were at work over on the other side of the island,
and he had half a mile to walk. When he got
there, he found that they had given up all hope of
getting home and were hard at work. And the
job, which they were at just at that time, was such
that it could not be left, for an hour at least. They
seemed to think that on the whole, perhaps, it
would hardly be worth while to try to go. But
Bright, hanging his head a moment as if he had
had an impulse that he was ashamed of, threw it
back suddenly and told them what Captain Bruce
had said about the news from town. They must
go. The result of the election might depend upon
their votes. When they heard this, they debated
the matter half a minute longer and then, with a
cheer of decision, resolved to go at any cost.
They could be ready, so said Lon Baker, the head
of the gang, shortly after two o'clock. The wind
was freshening, and hauling a bit, too. They
ought easily to get back to Lobster Cove by five
o'clock. So Bright went back to the sloop and
It was after half-past two, however, when they
appeared, and then it seemed as though they
would never get off. Bright was dreadfully nerv-
ous, and out of sorts. He felt now that it was a
matter of some doubt whether they would be able,
even if he did his best, to get back to Lobster
Cove in time. And one would have thought that,
considering everything, he would have been glad
of any delay. It would only make the carrying
out of Uncle Silas's proposal all the easier ; possi-
bly it would do away with the necessity of carrying
it out at all. Indeed, Bright had thought of all
this. And he had thought, too, that he was glad
they were late. Yet he fidgeted constantly while
he was waiting; and when at last they appeared,
he did his best to hurry them on board. The
truth was that the boy was in the most unsettled
and unsatisfactory state of mind he had ever been
in, in his life. He did not know what he did want.
He had not, as yet, at all made up his mind to do
the wrong thing, and yet he was by no means re-
solved not to do it. And when, presently, having
run out of the basin, he hauled aft his sheet and
headed the sloop, with the wind almost dead
ahead, for the south-west point of Frost's Island,
he actually had not the slightest idea what he
meant to do himself. That was the whole truth of
the matter; and no wonder he was ugly Mean-
while, he put off the moment of decision, and gave
the Elizabeth and Jane her head exactly as
though he meant to do his best as a swift sailor.
The instant they got outside the basin, it was
evident that there was already rather more wind
than they cared for. The little vessel, close-
hauled as she was, bent over before it like a piece
of paper; and she labored heavily without making
very rapid progress. Lon Baker came to Bright
almost immediately, and spoke to him with an
I believe, Bright, 't would 'a' been better, arter
all, if we'd reefed her 'fore we started."
"Who said anything about reefing before we
started?" Bright snapped out the words so
fiercely, one would have thought he had been
accused of something. As a matter of fact, he had
thought of putting a reef in the mainsail while he
had been waiting for the men to come down. But
immediately he had dismissed the thought. He
had not been able yet to do anything that looked
like not doing his best to get home in time.
Nobody said anything about it," answered
Lon; "but, I swan, I wish they had." He grasped
the companion-way to steady himself as the sloop
438 HOW BRIGHT BENSON C
for a moment seemed to bend deeper than ever
before the wind. Don't ye think we 'd better
reef her now, Bright ?"
"No," said Bright, surlily. I don't think
we 'd better reef her now."
But she can't stand this, you know--not a
great while. The wind 's risin' every minute."
She's got to stand it !" ve the -rrim r-esponse.
"But," Lon persisted, "t' .*. I' : i' I" "
soon, we may not be able t... ir ill : ..i-
job, reefin' a sail like that in i!.: .- i .- '
Bright made a quick, imp '...' i i!.. :1 .:,,L ill!
his hand, as if he was
waving aside some one -
who was tempting him.
It's no use talking, '--
Lon Baker. We're mak-
ing no great headway .:'. .' '6-"-
now; and a single foot "
less sail means not get-
ting into Lobster Cove till' '-
after dark. I came down
here to take you men
home to vote, and it 's I
my business to get you
there in time." He paused
a moment, watching a big 4
wave that was coming
down upon them, and
easing the boat a lit-
tle to avoid shipping it.
If it 's too wet for any
of you on deck, you can
go below. I s'pose you'11
acknowledge thatin order
to get home we must get .-
around Frost's Island
somehow. And it '11 take -
us three-quarters of an -
hour, even at the rate we
're going. After we do
get by, we shall have the
wind freer and it '11 be
After that, Lon walked .a
away forward, and Bright THE MEN SUD
stood wondering at him-
self. He knew that there was now the best reason
in the world for reefing. But he knew, too, that,
as he had said, to reef was to give up all chance
of getting home in time. And he shook his head
as he thought of that. He still could not bring
himself to take any step that looked like delaying.
And besides, he was not the lad to be frightened
by a capful of wind, more or less. If worst came
to worst, he could slack his sheet at any time and
run away from it. The sloop could carry all sail
OT HIS APPOINTMENT
easy enough before the wind. As for getting to
Lobster Cove in time,-well, he did not know yet
whether he would do it or not, but he could do it
if he chose, he and the "Elizabeth and Jane" to-
gether. And he would like to see the gale that
would frighten him out of it.
Twenty minutes later, however, the audacious
. I ,
)DENLY WAVED THEIR HATS AND GAVE A CHEER."
knowledge that he could not have things altogether
his own way. It became evident, then, that the
vessel could not stand up any longer under full sail,
on her present course. He must either reef her or
keep her away. He debated the alternative a single
half minute with himself. To reef, he felt certain
now, was to give up the game altogether. It
would take an hour and a half to get around the
island, with half the sloop's sail taken off. And
yet, to keep away and go to leeward of the island,
TO THE NAV2
would not that take longer yet? There was a long
ledge of rocks, known as "The Broken Back,"
which ran out directly southward from the other
corner of the island. Over this reef it was impossi-
ble to pass, and yet to go around it he must turn
back far out of his way. Even from their point of
starting this would have been the longer way
home; now it was far the longer. Only there was
one fact, of which Bright himself of all on board
was probably the only one aware, that at high
water (and it was high water at three o'clock
to-day) a vessel of light draft, if one knew how to
do it, might be run in close to shore and pass
through inside the ledge, saving miles of circuit
by the maneuver. Bright thought of all this in
that single half minute. And the thought flashed
across his mind, too, that if still he should decide
to do what Uncle Silas had proposed to him,
nothing would be easier than to run the smack
ashore at the point he had in mind. The next
instant he called out in a defiant voice to Tom
Trowbridge, to ease off the jib-sheet; and, slack-
ening the main-sheet himself, in another moment
the sloop was sweeping along with a far more rapid
and yet, at the same time, far easier movement
before the wind.
Several of the men gathered about him and
inquired the meaning of the change. He told
them curtly that it was their only chance of getting
home in time. But it will take all the afternoon
now to run out around 'Broken Back,' one of
I don't mean to run out around Broken Back,
at all," was Bright's answer. And that was all
they got out of him.
Ten minutes after this, the sheet was hauled aft
again, and they stood in under the lofty shore of
the island. Bright still would answer no questions.
He was not in the mood for it. But they saw now
what he meant to do; and they looked at the long
ledge of rocks, thrusting up their black heads
everywhere across the path, and said to each other
that it could not be done. But Bright Benson
knew that it could be done. He and Captain
Bruce had done it with the Elizabeth and Jane"
four weeks before, on just such a tide as was now
running. At one single point, he knew there was
water enough to carry the sloop over. And he knew
as well that a single, almost imperceptible motion
of the helm to port would bury the vessel's keel in
the sand, and Captain Bruce would look in vain that
night for his twenty-two voters from Egg Island.
Bright stood as motionless as a statue, the end of
the sheet in one hand and the tiller in the other.
It seemed to him just then as though he were
somehow outside of it all; that the water, the rocks,
the strip of sand, the "Elizabeth and Jane," and
AL ACADEMY. 439
even his very self were all part of a dreadful scene
upon which he himself was looking- looking with
bated breath and straining eyes, and wondering
what he himself would do. Then, all at once,
they were in the midst of the narrow passage,
gliding swiftly along. He gripped' the tiller with
all his force and looked straight ahead. He had
no fear for his eye and his hand themselves. He
knew they could be trusted the one to see the
way and the other to guide the vessel steadily
through it. If only he could leave them to do
their work themselves. But it was himselfthat he
feared and distrusted. That, at any instant, he,
suddenly possessed by the evil spirit that had
been hovering about him all the day, should in-
terfere with the hand and arm that could them-
selves be trusted,--that was what he feared. And
great drops of sweat gathered on his brow in that
short season of suspense.
Then, all in another instant, the little vessel
glided swiftly out from the passage and left the
Broken Back behind her. The men suddenly
waved their hats and gave a cheer; and Bright
Benson swung his own hat and shouted, too,
louder than any of them. But it was not for the
same reason. They little knew in what peril he
had been all this while, and through what awful
dangers his very manhood had so narrowly and
yet safely passed. No wonder he swung his cap
for joy and shouted above them all. He knew at
that instant what it was to have saved one's self to
one's self. He realized the mean thing he would
have been if he had sold himself.
It was all plain sailing after that, and there was
no longer any doubt about their getting home in
time. With the wind fairly abeam now, and just
enough of it to drive the sloop to her utmost,
they sped away for Lobster Cove; and at just
twenty-five minutes of six by the town-house clock,
they filed into the voting-room and deposited
their twenty-two votes for Congressman Lorrimer.
Bright Benson was not there to see it, but Uncle
Silas Watson was; and his soul was filled with
wonder and chagrin. He posted off at once down
to the shore. Bright was putting the stops on the
sloop's jib, as the old man came up, and whistling
Hail Columbia" at the top of his whistle.
"Juniper, Bright! Uncle Silas exclaimed.
" What in Passamaquoddy does this mean I
thought ye knew what ye was 'bout. What hev ye
be'n doin' all day? "
Bright looked up at the old man with a sly
smile. Uncle Sile," said he, I 've been doing
a little civil service reform on my own account."
Uncle Silas stared at him a moment in dumb
amazement. Then he turned and went up street
again without another word.
HOW BRIGHT BENSON GOT HIS APPOINTMENT.
Bright followed him with his eyes, the smile on
his face slowly fading again into a serious expres-
sion. I need n't be bragging to myself, though,"
muttered he. If ever a fellow came near selling
himself out, I did to-day. If I had done that thing,
I never should have been a man, if I 'd lived a thou-
sand years. I thank God I did n't do it He
spoke with all sincerity and reverence. And he
added presently, before he began to whistle again,
"If those twenty-two votes will elect Lorrimer,
he's welcome to 'em. If I were a man I would n't
have sold him my vote for a dozen appointments
to the Naval School."
But as it turned out, those twenty-two votes did
not elect Lorrimer, although they helped to do it.
The returns, when they were all in, showed that
the astute politicians of the district had not counted
noses quite right, after all, and that Congressman,
more fortunate than before, Lorrimer was reflected
by a majority of several hundred.
A week after this-the Elizabeth and Jane" be-
ing again at Lobster Cove-Bright found a letter
for him in the post-office, which was signed "P. C.
Lorrimer," and which requested him to call at
that gentleman's residence, at B-, at the earli-
est possible moment.
He did not know what to make of the sum-
mons; but he obeyed it. He was ushered at once
into the presence of the Congressman, and the in-
stant he saw him, he mentally begged the honor-
able gentleman's pardon. Such a kindly, noble-
looking man as this could not be the hard-hearted
and depraved individual that Bright had conceived
him. Mr. Lorrimer motioned him to a seat, and
although he was very courteous, did not waste
"So you are Brightman Benson, are you?"
said he. "I received a letter from you a while
ago in regard to a vacancy in the Naval Academy,
and I heard good reports of you at the examina-
tion that was held here in town. I sent for you to
tell you that Cushman has resigned the appoint-
ment, and that it is yours if you choose to accept
it. Here is your formal appointment." He held
out a paper. Then he added, with a smile: "I
also heard good reports of your doings on election
day. You did a good stroke of work for me on
Bright had advanced a step, perfectly dizzy with
surprise and delight, to take the paper. But at
these last words he halted and dropped his hand
"I beg your pardon, sir," he faltered. But
was that-was that the reason you gave me the
appointment?-because I got those men up from
Egg Island ? Then, I must tell you, sir,"-there
was a great lump in Bright's throat, and it was
like throwing the whole world away to say it, but
he had not mastered himself a week ago for
nothing,-" that I did n't do that for your sake at
all. I did it for my own sake. And if ever a fel-
low was tempted to do differently, I was that day."
He paused a moment, shaking his head; then he
stepped forward and laid the paper on the table,
saying: No, sir; I can't take it It would only
be selling myself out, after all."
The expression on Mr. Lorrimer's face, as he
listened, changed rapidly from that of amusement
to wonder; and then, as he seemed to comprehend
what was passing in the boy's mind, it became at
last very grave and gentle.
My young friend," said he, if you will look at
the date of the letter there, you will see that it was
written before the election. I appointed you be-
cause, from all I could hear, I thought you deserved
it. I am quite certain that you do, now. And I
assure you, I am glad to make one appointment, at
least, on the ground of merit. You will have to
go to Annapolis for your examination, though, on
the twenty-second of this month. Do you think
you can pass it ? "
"You may crack my back for a lobster, if I
don't! exclaimed Bright, hardly knowing what
he said. A kind of hysterical joy had suddenly
taken full possession of him, and he felt as though
he must say or do something extravagant and ridic-
ulous. Then, as he took the paper, he added:
I beg your pardon, sir, but I feel as if I'd like
to wrap myself in the American flag and sing
Yankee Doodle Dandy at the top of my voice."
x884.1 A MODERN ARTIST. 441
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FOURTH SPINNING-WHEEL STORY.
BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.
WHAT in the world have I chosen?" ex-
claimed Geoff, as he drew out a manuscript in his
turn and read the queer name.
A story that will just suit you, I think. The
hero is an Indian, and a brave one, as you will see.
I learned the little tale from an old woman who
lived in the valley of the Connecticut, which the
Indians called the Long River of Pines."
With this very short preface, Aunt Elinor began
to read, in her best manner, the story of-
Long ago, when hostile Indians haunted the
great forests, and every settlement had its fort for
the protection of the inhabitants, in one of the
towns on the Connecticut River lived Parson Bain
and his little son and daughter. The wife and
mother was dead; but an old servant took care of
them, and did her best to make Reuben and Eu-
nice good children. Her direst threat, when they
were naughty, was, "The Indians will come and
fetch you, if you don't behave." So they grew up
in great fear of the red men. Even the friendly
Indians, who sometimes came for food or powder,
were regarded with suspicion by the people. No
man went to work without his gun near by. On
Sunday, when they trudged to the rude meeting-
house, all carried the trusty rifle on the shoulder,
and while the pastor preached, a sentinel mounted
guard at the door, to give warning if canoes came
down the river or a dark face peered from the
One autumn night, when the first heavy rains
were falling and a cold wind whistled through the
valley, a knock came at the minister's door and,
opening it, he found an Indian boy, ragged,
hungry, and foot-sore, who begged for food and
shelter. In his broken way, he told how he had
fallen ill and been left to die by enemies who had
taken him from his own people, months before; how
he had wandered for days till almost sinking; and
that he had come now to ask for help, led by the
hospitable light in the parsonage window.
Send him away, Master, or harm will come of
it. He is a spy, and we shall all be scalped by the
murdering Injuns who are waiting in the wood,"
said old Becky, harshly; while little Eunice hid in
the old servant's ample skirts, and twelve-year-old
Reuben laid his hand on his cross-bow, ready to
defend his sister if need be.
But the good man drew the poor lad in, saying,
with his friendly smile: Shall not a Christian be
as hospitable as a godless savage ? Come in, child,
and be fed ; you sorely need rest and shelter."
Leaving his face to express the gratitude he had
no words to tell, the boy sat by the comfortable
fire and ate like a famished wolf, while Becky
muttered her forebodings and the children eyed
the dark youth at a safe distance. Something in
his pinched face, wounded foot, and eyes full of
dumb pain and patience, touched the little girl's
tender heart, and, yielding to a pitiful impulse,
she brought her own basin of new milk and, set-
ting it beside.the stranger, ran to hide behind her
father, suddenly remembering that this was one of
the dreaded Indians.
That was well done, little daughter. Thou
shalt love thine enemies, and share thy bread with
the needy. See, he is smiling; that pleased him,
and he wishes us to be his friends."
But Eunice ventured no more that night, and
quaked in her little bed at the thought of the
strange boy sleeping on a blanket before the fire
below. Reuben hid his fears better, and resolved
to watch while others slept; but was off as soon
as his curly head touched the pillow, and dreamed
of tomahawks and war-whoops till morning.
Next day, neighbors came to see the waif, and
one and all advised sending him away as soon as
possible, since he was doubtless a spy, as Becky
said, and would bring trouble of some sort.
"When he is well, he may go whither-
soever he will; but while he is too lame to walk,
weak with hunger, and worn out with weariness,
I will harbor him. He can not feign suffering and
starvation like this. I shall do my duty, andleave
the consequences to the Lord," answered the par-
son, with such pious firmness that the neighbors
said no more.
But they kept a close watch upon Onawandah,
when he went among them, silent and submissive,
but with the proud air of a captive prince, and
sometimes a fierce flash in his black eyes when the
other lads taunted him with his red skin. He was
very lame for weeks, and could only sit in the sun,
weaving pretty baskets for Eunice, and shaping
bows and arrows for Reuben. The children were
soon his friends, for with them he was always
gentle, trying in his soft language and expressive
gestures to show his good will and gratitude; for
they defended him against their ruder playmates,
and, following their father's example, trusted and
cherished the homeless youth.
When he was able to walk, he taught the boy
to shoot and trap the wild creatures of the wood,
to find fish where others failed, and to guide him-
self in the wilderness by star and sun, wind and
water. To Eunice he brought little offerings of
bark and feathers ; taught her to make moccasins
of skin, belts of shells, or pouches gay with porcu-
pine quills and colored grass. He would not work
for old Becky-who plainly showed her distrust -
saying: "A brave does not grind corn and bring
wood; that is squaw's work. Onawandah will
hunt and fish and fight for you, but no more."
And even the request of the parson could not win
obedience in this, though the boy would have died
for the good man.
We can not tame an eagle as we can a barn-
yard fowl. Let him remember only kindness of us,
and so we turn a foe into a friend," said Parson
Bain, stroking the sleek, dark head, that always
bowed before him, with a docile reverence shown
to no other living creature.
Winter came, and the settlers fared hardly
through the long months, when the drifts rose to
the eaves of their low cabins, and the stores, care-
fully harvested, failed to supply even their simple
wants. But the minister's family never lacked wild
meat, for Onawandah proved himself a better
hunter than any man in the town, and the boy of
sixteen led the way on his snow-shoes when they
went to track a bear to its den, chase the deer for
miles, or shoot the wolves that howled about their
homes in the winter nights.
But he never joined in their games, and sat
apart when the young folk made merry, as if he
scorned such childish pastimes and longed to be a
man in all things. Why he stayed when he was
well again, no one could tell, unless he waited for
spring to make his way to his own people. But
Reuben and Eunice rejoiced to keep him; for while
he taught them many things, he was their pupil
also, learning English rapidly, and proving himself
a very affectionate and devoted friend and servant,
in his own quiet way.
Be of good cheer, little daughter; I shall be
gone but three days, and our brave Onawandah
will guard you well," said the parson, one April
morning, as he mounted his horse to visit a distant
settlement, where the bitter winter had brought
sickness and death to more than one household.
The boy showed his white teeth in a bright
smile as he stood beside the children, while Becky
croaked, with a shake of the head :
"I hope you may n't find you've warmed a
viper in your bosom, Master."
Two days later, it seemed as if Becky was a true
prophet, and that the confiding minister had been
terribly deceived; for Onawandah went away to
hunt, and, that night, the awful war-whoop woke
the sleeping villagers to find their houses burning,
while the hidden Indians shot at them by the light
of the fires kindled by dusky scouts. In terror and
confusion the whites flew to the fort; and, while
the men fought bravely, the women held blankets
to catch arrows and bullets, or bound up the hurts
of their defenders.
It was all.over by daylight, and the red men
sped away up the river, with several prisoners,
and such booty as they could plunder from the
deserted houses. Not till all fear of a return of their
enemies was over, did the poor people venture to
leave the fort and seek their ruined homes. Then
it was discovered that Becky and the parson's
children were gone, and great was the bewailing,
for the good man was much beloved by all his
Suddenly the smothered voice of Becky was
heard by a party of visitors, calling dolefully :
I am here, betwixt the beds. Pull me out,
neighbors, for I am half dead with fright and
The old woman was quickly extricated from her
hiding-place, and with much energy declared that
she had seen Onawandah, disguised with war-
paint, among the Indians, and that he had torn
away the children from her arms before she could
fly from the house.
He chose his time well, when they were
defenseless, dear lambs Spite of all my warn-
ings, Master trusted him, and this is the thanks
we get. Oh, my poor master! How can I tell him
this heavy news ?"
There was no need to tell it; for, as Becky sat
moaning and beating her breast on the fireless
hearth, and the sympathizing neighbors stood about
her, the sound of a horse's hoofs was heard, and
the parson came down the hilly road like one
riding for his life. He had seen the smoke afar
off, guessed the sad truth, and hurried on, to find
his home in ruins and to learn by his first glance at
the faces around him that his children were gone.
When he had heard all there was to tell, he sat
down upon his door-stone with his head in his
hands, praying for strength to bear a grief too
deep for words. The wounded and weary men
tried to comfort him with hope, and the women
wept with him as they hugged their own babies
closer to the hearts that ached for the lost chil-
dren. Suddenly a stir went through the mournful
group, as Onawandah came from the wood with a
young deer upon his shoulders, and amazement in
his face as he saw the desolation before him. Drop-
ping his burden, he stood an instant looking with
eyes that kindled fiercely; then he came bounding
toward them, undaunted by the hatred, suspicion,
and surprise plainly written on the countenances
before him. He missed his playmates, and asked
but one question :
The boy? the little squaw ?-where gone ?"
His answer was a rough one, for the men seized
him and poured forth the tale, heaping reproaches
upon him for such treachery and ingratitude. He
bore it all in proud silence till they pointed to the
poor father whose dumb sorrow was more eloquent
than all their wrath. Onawandah looked at him,
and the fire died out of his eyes as if quenched
by the tears he would not shed. Shaking off the
hands that held him, he went to his good friend,
saying with passionate earnestness :
"Onawandah is not traitor! Onawandah re-
members. Onawandah grateful! You believe?"
The poor parson looked up at him, and could
not doubt his truth; for genuine love and sorrow
ennobled the dark face, and he had never known
the boy to lie.
"I believe and trust you still, but others will
not. Go, you are no longer safe here, and I have
no home to offer you," said the parson, sadly,
feeling that he cared for none, unless his children
were restored to him.
"Onawandah has no fear. He goes; but he
comes again to bring the boy, the little squaw."
Few words, but they were so solemnly spoken
that the most unbelieving were impressed; for the
youth laid one hand on the gray head bowed
before him, and lifted the other toward heaven, as
if calling the Great Spirit to hear his vow.
A relenting murmur went through the crowd,
but the boy paid no heed, as he turned away, and
with no arms but his hunting knife and bow, no
food but such as he could find, no guide but the
sun by day, the stars by night, plunged into the
pathless forest and was gone.
Then the people drew a long breath, and mut-
tered to one another :
He will never do it, yet he is a brave lad for
"Only a shift to get off with a whole skin, I
warrant you. These varlets are as cunning as
foxes," added Becky, sourly.
The parson alone believed and hoped, though
weeks and months went by, and his children did
Meantime, Reuben and Eunice were far away in
an Indian camp, resting as best they could, after
the long journey that followed that dreadful night.
Their captors were not cruel to them, for Reuben
was a stout fellow and, thanks to Onawandah,
could hold his own with the boys who would have
tormented him if he had been feeble or cowardly.
Eunice also was a hardy creature for her years,
and when her first fright and fatigue were over,
made herself useful in many ways among the
squaws, who did not let the pretty child suffer
greatly; though she was neglected, because they
knew no better.
Life in a wigwam was not a life of ease, and
fortunately the children were accustomed to simple
habits and the hardships that all endured in those
early times. But they mourned for home till their
young faces were pathetic with the longing, and
their pillows of dry leaves were often wet with tears
in the night. Their clothes grew ragged, their hair
unkempt, their faces tanned by sun and wind.
Scanty food and exposure to all weathers tried the
strength of their bodies, and uncertainty as to
their fate saddened their spirits ; yet they bore up
bravely, and said their prayers faithfully, feeling
sure that God would bring them home to father
in His own good time.
One day, when Reuben was snaring birds in the
wood,-for the Indians had no fear of such young
children venturing to escape,-he heard the cry of
a quail, and followed it deeper and deeper into the
forest, till it ceased, and, with a sudden rustle,
Onawandah rose up from the brakes, his finger on
his lips to prevent any exclamation that might
betray him to other ears and eyes.
I come for you and little Laraka,"-(the name
he gave Eunice, meaning Wild Rose.") "I take
you home. Not know me yet. Go and wait."
He spoke low and fast; but the joy in his face
told how glad he was to find the boy after his long
search, and Reuben clung to him, trying not to
disgrace himself by crying like a girl, in his sur-
prise and delight.
Lying hidden in the tall brakes they talked in
whispers, while one told of the capture, and the
Fear had taught her self-control, and the poor
child stood the test well, working off her relief and
rapture by pounding corn in the stone mortar till
her little hands were blistered, and her arms ached
for hours afterward.
Not till the next day did Onawandah make his
appearance, and then he came limping into the vil-
lage, weary, lame, and half starved after his long
wandering in the wilderness. He was kindly wel-
comed, and his story believed, for he told only the
first part, and said nothing of his life among the
white men. He hardly glanced at the children
" SUDDENLY HE ROSE, AND IN HIS OWN MUSICAL LANGUAGE PRAYED
other of a plan of escape ; for, though a friendly
tribe, these Indians were not Onawandah's people,
and they must not suspect that he knew the chil-
dren, else they might be separated at once.
Little squaw betray me. You watch her.
Tell her not to cry out, not speak me any time.
When I say come, we go,-fast,--in the night.
Not ready yet."
These were the orders Reuben received, and,
when he could compose himself, he went back to
the wigwams, leaving his friend in the wood,
while he told the good news to Eunice, and pre-
pared her for the part she must play.
TO THE GREAT SPIRIT." (PAGE 447)
when they were pointed out to him by their
captors, and scowled at poor Eunice, who forgot
her part in her joy, and smiled as she met the
dark eyes that till now had always looked kindly
at her. A touch from Reuben warned her, and
she was glad to hide her confusion by shaking her
long hair over her face, as if afraid of the stranger.
Onawandah took no further notice of them, but
seemed to be very lame with the old wound in his
foot, which prevented his being obliged to hunt
with the men. He was resting and slowly gather-
ing strength for the hard task he had set himself,
while he waited for a safe time to save the children.
n~-a~ar~r I --
They understood, but the suspense proved too
much for little Eunice, and she pined with impa-
tience to be gone. She lost appetite and color,
and cast such appealing glances at Onawandah,
that he could not seem quite indifferent, and gave
her a soft word now and then, or did such acts of
kindness as he could perform unsuspected. When
she lay awake at night thinking of home, a cricket
would chirp outside the wigwam, and a hand slip
in a leaf full of berries, or a bark-cup of fresh water
for the feverish little mouth. Sometimes it was
only a caress or a whisper of encouragement, that
re-assured the childish heart, and sent her to sleep
with a comfortable sense of love and protection,
like a sheltering wing over a motherless bird.
Reuben stood it better, and entered heartily into
the excitement of the plot, for he had grown tall
and strong in these trying months, and felt that he
must prove himself a man to sustain and defend
his sister. Quietly he put away each day a bit of
dried meat, a handful of parched corn, or a well-
sharpened arrowhead, as provision for the journey;
while Onawandah seemed to be amusing himself
with making moccasins and a little vest of deer-
skin for an Indian child about the age of Eunice.
At last, in the early autumn, all the men went
off on the war-path, leaving only boys and women
behind. Then Onawandah's eyes began to kindle,
and Reuben's heart to beat fast, for both felt that
their time for escape had come.
All was ready, and one moonless night the sig-
nal was given. A cricket chirped shrilly outside
the tent where the children slept with one old
squaw. A strong hand cut the skin beside their
bed of fir boughs, and two trembling creatures
crept out to follow the tall shadow that flitted noise-
lessly before them into the darkness of the wood.
Not a broken twig, a careless step, or a whispered
word betrayed them, and they vanished as swiftly
and silently as hunted deer flying for their lives.
Till dawn they hurried on, Onawandah carrying
Eunice, whose strength soon failed, and Reuben
manfully shouldering the hatchet and the pouch
of food. At sunrise they hid in a thicket by a
spring and rested, while waiting for the friendly
night to come again. Then they pushed on, and
fear gave wings to their feet, so that by another
morning they were far enough away to venture to
travel more slowly and sleep at night.
If the children had learned to love and trust the
Indian boy in happier times, they adored him now,
and came to regard him as an earthly Providence,
so faithful, brave, and tender was he ; so forgetful
of himself, so bent on saving them. He never
seemed to sleep, ate the poorest morsels, or went
without any food when provision failed; let no
danger daunt him, no hardship wring complaint
from him; but went on through the wild forest,
led by guides invisible to them, till they began to
hope that home was near.
Twice he saved their lives. Once, when he went
in search of food, leaving Reuben to guard his
sister, the children, being very hungry, ignorantly
ate some poisonous berries which looked like wild
cherries, and were deliciously sweet. The boy
generously gave most of them to Eunice, and soon
was terror-stricken to see her grow pale and cold
and deathly ill. Not knowing what to do, he could
only rub her hands and call wildly for Onawandah.
The name echoed through the silent wood, and,
though far away, the keen ear of the Indian heard
it, his fleet feet brought him back in time, and his
knowledge of wild roots and herbs made it possible
to save the child when no other help was at hand.
"Make fire. Keep warm. I soon come," he
said, after hearing the story and examining Eunice,
who could only lift her eyes to him, full of childish
confidence and patience.
Then he was off again, scouring the woods like
a hound on the scent, searching everywhere for
the precious little herb that would counteract the
poison. Any one watching him would have
thought him crazy as he rushed hither and thither,
tearing up the leaves, creeping on his hands and
knees that it might not escape him, and when
he found it, springing up with a cry that startled
the birds, and carried hope to poor Reuben, who
was trying to forget his own pain in his anxiety for
Eunice, whom he thought dying.
"Eat, eat, while I make drink. All safe now,"
cried Onawandah, as he came leaping toward
them with his hands full of green leaves, and his
dark face shining with joy.
The boy was soon relieved, but for hours they
hung over the girl, who suffered sadly, till she
grew unconscious and lay as if dead. Reuben's
courage failed then, and he cried bitterly, think-
ing how hard it would be to leave the dear little
creature under the pines and go home alone to
father. Even Onawandah lost hope for a while,
and sat like a bronze statue of despair, with his
eyes fixed on his Wild Rose, who seemed fading
away too soon.
Suddenly he rose, stretched his arms to the west,
where the sun was setting splendidly, and in his
own musical language prayed to the Great Spirit.
The Christian boy fell upon his knees, feeling that
the only help was in the Father who saw and
heard them even in the wilderness. Both were
comforted, and when they turned to Eunice there
was a faint tinge of color on the pale cheeks, as
if the evening red kissed her, the look of pain was
gone, and she slept quietly without the moans that
had made their hearts ache before.
He hears he hears !" cried Onawandah, and
for the first time Reuben saw tears in his keen
eyes, as the Indian boy turned his face to the sky
full of a gratitude that no words were sweet enough
All night, Eunice lay peacefully sleeping, and
the moon lighted Onawahdah's lonely watch, for
the boy Reuben was worn out with suspense, and
slept beside his sister.
In the morning she was safe, and great was the
rejoicing; but for two days the little invalid was
not allowed to continue the journey, much as they
longed to hurry on. It was a pretty sight, the bed
of hemlock boughs spread under a green tent of
woven branches, and on the pillow of moss the
pale child watching the flicker of sunshine through
the leaves, listening to the babble of a brook close
by, or sleeping tranquilly, lulled by the murmur
of the pines. Patient, loving, and grateful, it was
a pleasure to serve her, and both the lads were
faithful nurses. Onawandah cooked birds for her
to eat, and made a pleasant drink of the wild
raspberry leaves to quench her thirst. Reuben
snared rabbits, that she might have nourishing
food, and longed to shoot a deer for provision,
that she might not suffer hunger again on their
journey. This boyish desire led him deeper into
the wood than it was wise for him to go alone, for
it was near night-fall, and wild creatures haunted
the forest in those days. The fire, which Ona-
wandah kept constantly burning, guarded their
little camp where Eunice lay; but Reuben, with
no weapon but his bow and hunting knife, was
beyond this protection when he at last gave up
his vain hunt and turned homeward. Suddenly,
the sound of stealthy steps startled him, but he
could see nothing through the dusk at first, and
hurried on, fearing that some treacherous Indian
was following him. Then he remembered his
sister, and resolved not to betray her resting-place
if he could help it, for he had learned courage
of Onawandah, and longed to be as brave and
generous as his dusky hero.
So he paused to watch and wait, and soon saw
the gleam of two fiery eyes, not behind, but above
him, in a tree. Then he knew that it was an
Indian devil," as they called a species of fierce
wild-cat that lurked in the thickets and sprang on
its prey like a small tiger.
If I could only kill it alone, how proud Ona-
wandah would be of me," thought Reuben, burn-
ing for the good opinion of his friend.
It would have been wiser to hurry on and give
the beast no time to spring; but the boy was ovei
bold, and, fitting an arrow to the string, aimed at
the bright eye-ball and let fly. A sharp snarl
showed that some harm was done, and, rather
daunted by the savage sound, Reuben raced away,
meaning to come back next day for the prize he
hoped he had secured.
But soon he heard the creature bounding after
him, and he uttered one ringing shout for help,
feeling too late that he had been foolhardy. For-
tunately he was nearer camp than he thought.
Onawandah heard him and was there in time to
receive the wild-cat, as, mad with the pain of the
wound, it sprung at Reuben. There was no time
for words, and the boy could only watch in breath-
less interest and anxiety the fight which went on
between the brute and the Indian.
It was sharp but short, for Onawandah had his
knife, and as soon as he could get the snarling,
struggling beast down, he killed it with a skillful
stroke. But not before it had torn and bitten him
more dangerously than he knew; for the dusk hid
the wounds, and excitement kept him from feeling
them at first. Reuben thanked him heartily, and
accepted his few words of warning with grateful
docility; then both hurried back to Eunice, who
till next day knew nothing of her brother's danger.
Onawandah made light of his scratches, as he
called them, got their supper, and sent Reuben
early to bed, for to-morrow they were to start again.
Excited by his adventure, the boy slept lightly,
and waking in the night, saw by the flicker of the
fire Onawandah binding up a deep wound in his
breast with wet moss and his own belt. A stifled
groan betrayed how much he suffered; but when
Reuben went to him, he would accept no help,
said it was nothing, and sent him back to bed,
preferring to endure the pain in stern silence, with
true Indian pride and courage.
Next morning, they set out and pushed on as fast
as Eunice's strength allowed. But it was evident
that Onawandah suffered much, though he would
not rest, forbade the children to speak of his
wounds, and pressed on with feverish haste, as if
he feared that his strength might not hold out.
Reuben watched him anxiously, for there was a
look in his face that troubled the boy and filled
him with alarm, as well as with remorse and love.
Eunice would not let him carry her as before, but
trudged bravely behind him, though her feet ached
and her breath often failed as she tried to keep up;
and both children did all they could to comfort
.and sustain their friend, who seemed glad to give
his life for them.
In three days they reached the river, and, as if
Heaven helped them in their greatest need, found
a canoe, left by some hunter, near the shore. In
They sprang, and let the swift current bear them
along, Eunice kneeling in the bow like a little
figure-head of Hope, Reuben steering with his
paddle, and Onawandah sitting with arms tightly
THE PLAYTHING OF AN EMPRESS.
folded over his breast, as if to control the sharp
anguish of the neglected wound. He knew that it
was past help now, and only cared to see the chil-
dren safe; then, worn out but happy, he was proud
to die, having paid his debt to the good parson,
and proved that he was not a liar nor a traitor.
Hour after hour they floated down the great
river, looking eagerly for signs of home, and when
at last they entered the familiar valley, while the
little girl cried for joy, and the boy paddled as he
had never done before, Onawandah sat erect with
his haggard eyes fixed on the dim distance, and sang
his death-song in a clear, strong voice-though
every breath was pain,-bent on dying like a brave,
without complaint or fear.
At last they saw the smoke from the cabins on
the hill-side and, hastily mooring the canoe, all
sprung out, eager to be at home after their long
and perilous wandering. But as his foot touched
the land, Onawandah felt that he could do no
more, and stretching his arms toward the parson-
age, the windows of which glimmered as hospitably
as they had done when he first saw them, he said,
with a pathetic sort of triumph in his broken voice :
"Go. I can not.-Tell the good father, Onawandah
not lie, not forget. He keep his promise."
Then he dropped upon the grass and lay as if
dead, while Reuben, bidding Eunice keep watch,
ran as fast as his tired legs could carry him to tell
the tale and bring help.
The little girl did her part tenderly, carrying
water in her hands to wet the white lips, tearing
up her ragged skirt to lay fresh bandages on the
wound that had been bleeding the brave boy's life
away, and, sitting by him, gathered his head into
her arms, begging him to wait till father came.
But poor Onawandah had waited too long; now
he could only look up into the dear, loving, little
face bent over him, and whisper wistfully: Wild
Rose will remember Onawandah?" as the light
went out of his eyes, and his last breath was a
smile for her.
When the parson and his people came hurrying
up full of wonder, joy, and good-will, they found
Eunice weeping bitterly, and the Indian boy lying
like a young warrior smiling at death.
Ah, my neighbors, the savage has taught us a
lesson we never can forget. Let us imitate -his
virtues, and do honor to his memory," said the
pastor, as he held his little daughter close and
looked down at the pathetic figure at his feet,
whose silence was more eloquent than any words.
All felt it, and even old Becky had a remorseful
sigh for the boy who had kept his word so well
and given back her darlings safe.
They buried him where he lay; and for years
the lonely mound under the great oak was kept
green by loving hands. Wild roses bloomed there,
and the murmur of the Long River of Pines was a
fit lullaby for faithful Onawandah.
THE PLAYTHING OF AN EMPRESS.
BY H. MARIA GEORGE.
THE boys and girls who read ST. NICHOLAS
know something about the many beautiful and
curious things which can be made from snow and
ice. Those of them who live in the Northern
States have doubtless many a time half frozen their
hands while constructing a snow-fort or a snow-
house, laying a skating-rink, or carving a snow-
image; while some, perhaps, were fortunate enough.
to have seen, last winter and the year before, in
Montreal, the first ice palaces ever built in Amer-
ica. At all events, most of you have heard about
these wonderful buildings.
Off in Russia, one hundred and fifty years ago,
when Washington was a boy, reigned Anna Ivan-
ovna, Empress of Russia. She was the niece of
Peter the Great, but a very different sort of a char-
acter. Stern, busy Peter would never have thought
of building an ice-palace. He improved his time
in constructing more substantial edifices. But
Anna loved pleasure and novelty, and frittered
away her time in doing foolish things. She thought
not so much of making her subjects happy as of
enjoying life herself. Poor Anna Ivanovna! there
have been many rulers like her.
The winter of 1739 and 1740 was a very severe
one. All over Europe the cold was excessive.
The ice in the river Neva formed to several feet in
thickness. Throughout Russia there was much
suffering. People died of cold and starvation;
wolves crept into many villages and fell upon the
inhabitants. But at St. Petersburg there was
nothing but joy and festivity. The days and the
THE PLAYTHING OF AN EMPRESS.
nights were given to pleasure. One night the an immense fortress of ice and snow, built upon
whole capital would be out upon the river, which the Neva, was attacked and defended according
was turned into a vast skating and riding park. to all the rules of war.
Here and there great bonfires blazed like beacon These vanities were capped by the construction
t i. r H.,, 5 i t'td (| ,._ r ,., ..1 ,.: ^ t r ,. : t3
cr .:. ,, .,n ._ h ,_r l lt.-: I I,,.-1 l..:Ir I,_ 1, 1:, 1., .
r _,. l _,!, -- ,q ,, ,: 1 t i, -, r ._ ..i r : p : .: ...! ._ r .t L -, t
c l ,1 !.l .: J- ,: .1. .- ,1 1 i .n ..- l,1 J ., -d i .. 1 Ls
bL c-hanged as LhuluglI by ic ad .* 'o'- rl
of an enchanter. The frozen river INSIDE THE ICEPALACE AT NIGHT, should make up her mind to build
bristled with bayonets and was gay a palace the like of which no mon-
with splendid trappings and tossing plumes. A arch had ever thought of building. So she set to
military review and sham battle was taking place, work to think how she could possibly build a house
Here and there rushed the glittering squadrons which should be the most wonderful house on earth.
containing thousands of armed men. Great can- She thought of gold and she thought of silver. She
nons and mortars were frequently discharged, and thought of the beautiful malachite. She thought of
THE PLAYTHING OF AN EMPRESS.
ivory, of ebony, and of every stone that is known to
man. None of these seemed to please her fancy. But
one day she looked from her window, and she saw
what seemed to her a vast and heavenly cathedral
of sparkling ice-crystals, which the exquisite skill
of the frost's fingers had formed on the window-
panes. "I have it," said the Empress, delighted,
" I shall have a palace of ice. Everything within
and without shall be made of nothing but glitter-
ing ice." Within a very short time, a design was
furnished to the Empress by an architect whose
name is a pure Russian one, but which you can
easily pronounce by dividing it into syllables-
Alexis Dan-il-o-vitch Tat-ish-chev. It was the orig-
inal intention of the projectors to build the palace
upon the Neva itself, so as to be as near as possible
to the supply of the building material. They ac-
cordingly began the erection upon the frozen river
toward the last of December, 1739, but were forced
to relinquish their proposed plan by the yielding
of the ice under the rising walls. In consequence
of this failure, a site was selected upon the land
between the fortress of the admiralty and the win-
ter palace of the Empress; and the work was
begun anew, with the advantage of the experience
in ice-building gained by the unsuccessful attempt
In the construction of the work the simplest
means were used. First, the purest and most
transparent ice was selected. This was cut into
large blocks, squared with rule and compass, and
carved with all the regular architectural embellish-
ments. No cement was used. Each block when
ready was raised to its destined place by cranes
and pulleys, and just before it was let down upon
the block which was to support it, water was
poured between the two, the upper block was im-
mediately lowered, and as the water froze almost
instantly, in that intensely cold climate, the two
blocks became literally one. In fact, the whole
building appeared to be, and really was, a single
mass of ice. The effect it produced must have been
infinitely more beautiful than if it had been of the
most costly marble; its transparency and bluish tint
giving it rather the appearance of a precious stone.
In dimensions, the structure was fifty-six feet
long, eighteen feet wide, twenty-one feet high, and
with walls three feet in thickness. At each corner
of the palace was a pyramid of the same height
as the roof, of course built of ice, and around the
whole was a low palisade of the same material.
The actual length of the front view, including the
pyramids, was one hundred and fourteen feet.
The palace was built in the usual style of Rus-
sian architecture. The facade was plain,, being
merely divided into compartments by pilasters.
There was a window in each division, which was
painted in imitation of green marble. The window-
panes were formed of slabs of ice, as transparent
and smooth as sheets of plate glass. At night, when
the palace was lighted, the windows were curtained
by canvas screens, on which grotesque figures were
painted. Owing to the transparency of the whole
material, the general effect of the illumination
must have been fine, the whole palace seemingly
being filled with a delicate pearly light. The cen-
tral division projected, and appeared to be a door,
but was, in fact, a large window, and was illumin-
ated like the others. Surmounting the facade of
the building was an ornamental balustrade, and at
each end of the sloping roof was a huge chimney.
The entrance was at the rear. At each side of the
door stood ice-imitations of orange-trees, in leaf
and flower, with ice-birds perched on the branches.
In front of the building there was an ice-ele-
phant, as large as life, and upon his back a figure
of a man, made of ice, and dressed like a Persian.
Two other men-figures of ice, one of which held a
spear in its grasp, stood directly in front of the
animal. The elephant was hollow, and was made
to throw water through his trunk to the height of
twenty-five feet. This was accomplished by means
of tubes leading from the foss of the admiralty for-
tress, near by. Burning naphtha was substituted
for water at night. In order to increase the nat-
uralness of this part of the exhibition, there was
placed within the figure a man who from time to
time blew through certain pipes, making a noise
like the roaring of an elephant.
The Empress ordered six cannon and two mor-
tars to be set up on each side of the front gateway,
to guard her beautiful fancy. It makes us shake
our heads when we read that these cannon and
mortars were likewise of ice. And even the heads
of her councillors and wise men shook, and they
said one to another: What will our old eyes be
asked to see next ?" But the Empress laughed,
for she knew that so long as the sun kept to his old
path in the heavens, her palace would be secure.
But to prove to her friends that the work was good,
she bade them place a quarter of a pound of powder
and an iron cannon ball weighing five pounds in
one of the ice cannon. Every one tremblingly
waited for a terrible explosion, but none came.
The cannon remained intact, and the ball was
thrown to some distance, passing through a board
two inches thick, which was placed about sixty
paces off. Everybody was wild with astonish-
ment, and at night the Empress illuminated the
palace brilliantly, and gave a great ball. And as
the light shone out for miles, and men saw the
fairy-like grandeur of the scene, they said that-
next to the Empress Anna-Master Jack Frost
was the most wonderful ruler in the world.
THE PLAYTHING OF AN EMPRESS.
The inside of this great "plaything" was more
wonderful than the exterior. There were only
three rooms,-a spacious and handsome vestibule,
which extended through the middle, and a room
on each side.
One of these apartments was the royal chamber.
In it was a dressing-table fully set out with a look-
ing-glass and all sorts of powder and essence boxes,
jars, bottles, a watch, and a pair of candlesticks
and candles, all fashioned of ice. In the evening
these candles were smeared with naphtha and
set in a blaze without melting. A great ice
mirror was hung against the wall. On the other
side of the room was the bedstead, with bed, pil-
lows, counterpane, and curtains, deftly wrought
in ice. A large fire-place was on the right, with
an elegantly carved mantel, and within it, upon
the curious andirons, were placed logs of ice
which were occasionally smeared with naphtha
The other principal room was alternately termed
the dining-room and the drawing-room. An elab-
orately constructed ice-table extended through the
apartment. On each side were settees or sofas hand-
somely carved. In three of the corners were large
statues ; in the other was a handsome time-piece,
provided with wheels of ice, which were visible
through the transparent case. All the other parts of
of the palace were fitted up in a corresponding
The construction of this work did not occupy
quite a fortnight, so many and so expert were the
builders. When it was finished, the public were
allowed an unrestricted passage through every part
of the building, all confusion being obviated by
surrounding the entrance with a wooden railing,
and stationing police officers, who allowed only a
certain number of persons to pass in at one time.
Whenever the Empress and her court banqueted
or danced at the palace, as they often did in the
bright winter days and the cold winter nights, the
visits of the populace were, of course, suspended.
But even in the latitude of "St. Petersburg"
ice is not always strong and lasting; and Anna's
ice-palace, though a contemporary writer said of
it that it merited to be placed among the stars,
had a brief duration. For about three months,
or as long as the excessive cold weather lasted,
so long did this beautiful edifice stand. Finally,
under the warm sunshine of the last of March,
it began to give way toward the southern side,
and soon gradually disappeared. It is said that
it was not altogether useless in its destruction,
as the large blocks of the walls were taken to fill
the ice-cellars of the imperial palace. But this was
a very poor return, indeed, for the original outlay.
.1 I ''' I
I1 .1 I I, I ii 1 II- I !.
SI l IL !
A WL..,: "..',, ",\
.' \ ~
I- i k i.l T A i_ L.
GIRL-NOBLESSE. A REPEAT OF HISTORY. II.
BY MRS. ADELINE D. T. WHITNEY.
YOUNG ladies !" said Miss Posackley, in her most
assured official voice. But the attitude neutralized
it too absurdly. The doubled-up young ladies tit-
tered all along the line.
"Master Neal Royd, put out those matches,
please. And light no more. They are most dan-
And disillusionizing," said a low voice some-
where in the dimness, as the little blaze expired
beneath Neal's boot.
"This will all be laid before Mrs. Singlewell,"
said Miss Posackley, just as if she had been at full
height upon the platform at the top of the long
school-room. "At present, you have to go up as
you came down. Master Royd, you will go before,
if you please. Miss Hastings, you led the way;
lead back again."
There came a scrambling, with laughs and out-
cries. Neal Royd was in the trap-way, head up,
ready to spring forth.
Oh oh / I 've lost-I 've dropped something,
Miss Posackley. I must look sounded suddenly
in distress. It was Hester Moore's voice. "Just
let me have a match one minute "
"On no account," replied Miss Posackley.
"Go up, Master Neal. Go up, young ladies.
This is very ex-traordinary she concluded ; but
she gasped the word out, with a distressed puff
between the syllables, quite irrelevantly.
She meant ex-hausting," whispered Kitty
Sharrod. "There '11 have to be more ex-hoisting
before they all get out. And she 's bound to
come up last! For shame, girls she cried aloud.
"Make haste !"
"Hush, Kitty Sharrod!-O dear, I can't find
it. Don't tread all around, girls "
Is it your handkerchief, Miss Moore ? I may
be able to pick it up for you presently," Neal
Royd' said, most suavely, giving his hands to Clip
Hastings, who, short but springy, came lightly,
with that aid, to the upper floor again.
Hester Moore suddenly hushed up, herself.
Have you found it? What was it?" they
asked her, as they crowded forward from below.
Never mind; it's all right now," said Hester,
She's found she never lost it. That always
makes people cross," said little Lucy Payne, while
Neal reached down and lifted her from the arms
of Sue Merriman, who held her up to him.
Neal gave a keen glance, sidewise, at Hester's
face, when she grappled with the other edge of
the trap, and struggled up heavily, and with much
pushing from her comrades, through the aperture,
scrambling ignominiously out on hands and knees.
She has n't found it. And it's no handkerchief.
And she's in some scrape," he said to himself.
0 Hester have n't you lost something else ?
Where's that lovely "
In my pocket, silly Do be quiet inter-
rupted Hester, pushing Lucy Payne aside, and
making sullenly for the door.
Hester Hetty She's missing the greatest
fun of all," said mischievous Clip Hastings, in a
low tone,-" the seeing Miss Fidelia emerge. What
will she do with her dignity ? "
"I '11 take care of Miss Fidelia and her dignity,"
said Neal Royd. Though, perhaps, that is quite
as much your own business." There was a chiv-
alrous indignation in the boy's tone. Girls never
know when a joke or a torment has gone far
enough," he thought.
He jumped down through the trap as the last of
Miss Posackley's charge gained foot-hold above,
and then he dropped on all fours in the dust and
rubbish, putting his head down, and his shoulders
up, to the full stretch of his strong-braced arms.
"Step on my back, Miss Posackley. June,
reach Miss Posackley your hands."
And Miss Posackley, who had a neat, small,
light-booted foot, and nothing lumbering in her
measured motions, first spread a little scarf she
carried across the young Raleigh's coat, and then
stepped with a truly Elizabethan air upon the offered
support, and so, with not too ungainly struggle, up
into the main room.
"I am exceedingly obliged, and really quite
ashamed," she said, turning to Neal as he sprang
out again and handed her the silken strip, with a
quiet Thank you of his own, proceeding to dust
his knees with his handkerchief. But why--not,
of course, that any of us should expect such aid
from you-did you only think of it for me? "
"Perhaps because my jacket is n't for everybody's
dust," he said. Some people use you gently;
and some tread upon you as if they meant it. It's
your own fault if you can't guess the difference
From that moment Miss Posackley had a respect
for Neal Royd, and put a friendly confidence in
No more going into the block-house, young
ladies, without express permission," was Miss Fi-
delia's general order, as she came out and headed
her flock once more, taking the way down to the
The kettle was filled and hung; the fire laid;
the baskets and parcels all placed comfortably at
hand. Neal struck a match and touched it to the
brush and pine chips, and a blaze went up. Then
he judiciously withdrew himself in his former un-
pretentious manner, and sauntered off toward the
block-house. He had more matches in his pocket,
and he was not included in the forbiddance to the
" young ladies." Ten minutes later, he sauntered
back again to Miss Posackley and her party, to see
if anything were wanted. He had something else
in another pocket,-a dainty little golden chate-
"June," said Hester Moore, a little while after
dinner was over; "just ask your brother for some
matches, will you? "
June looked up with a triple amaze, at the allo-
cution, the name, and the request. "What for?"
Oh, we shall go into the cavern presently, and
I want some for myself. I wont be caught again,
as I was in the old block-house. I did n't half see
that either. We went right down into that mis-
erable hole. See here, June! Mabel and I are
determined we will see it again, whether or no.
You come, too, that 's a good child. You know
all about it. But now, just get the matches. I '11
do as much for you any time."
"I do not think I shall need you to," said
June, rather coolly. "And I don't believe Neal
will let us have. any matches. And we had better
not disobey Miss Posackley. I '11 ask Neal,
though." And she went off at once, and did it.
"Cunning, is n't she? In a small way. But
I guess I 'm her match -though I 've got no
matches for her. She might set the cavern on
You 're quite right, Chiefie; only I thought I
had better give her your own answer."
Well, that 's it; only you need n't tell her the
whole of it. I say, June, what do you suppose
she lost down there? What did she have -did
n't you notice ? that she might lose? That she
might be afraid to lose or tell of, if she had lost
Something flashed suddenly across June's mind.
"Why she had a lovely chatelaine watch, just
Chiefie Where did you get it? Why, it is
Grade's !" she exclaimed, when she had taken
the trinket into her hand, and glanced at it on
each side. See, there is the monogram G. V.'
She would n't let us look at it closely; I thought it
was her sister's. She was crazy to wear Grace
Vanderbroke's when it first came; I used to hear
her teasing for it. It was at the jeweler's to be
regulated, when Grace was sent for; she begged
leave to get it and keep it for her till she came
back; but she said Blanche Hardy would do
that; June went on, with girlish ambiguity of
pronouns. "Then Hester was provoked, and said
it did n't matter-other people had chatelaine
watches; she could borrow one from her own
home if she wanted to; her mother and her sis-
ter-who is engaged-both had them; she only
wanted to do her a kindness. And then to-day
-oh! when she half showed it, she did make
us think, if she did n't say out and out, that it
was her sister's. And Blanche Hardy went yes-
terday with her sister, the bride, to Lake Rinkle-
pin. Oh, Neal! She must have--borrowed it
-out of Blanche's trunk "
"All right. Now let her whistle for her
matches-and her chances! I '11 go and put it
back where I found it. It was safe enough.
'Block-house good. Got no scalp.'"
"Don't be horrid, Neal. If you would only
help her out of it-think It would be-it would
be being a real Chiefie to do that."
"I 'm only a chief in the rough, Junie. And
'set a chief to help a thief! There 's no such
saying as that, even in the New Testament "
And Neal strode off.
He had two or three strokes of revenge to
choose from. He could walk up innocently to
Miss Posackley before them all, and give into her
charge what he had found, which would bring the
whole disclosure down upon Pester More's head;
or he could let her worry all day, and spoil her
good time, reserving to himself the alternative of
showing mercy at the last, and shaming her of her
own meannesses, or of still finishing her off with
the public exposure which she deserved. Or,
again, he could put the thing back where he had
found it, as he had said; leaving it and her to
take the chances," the probabilities of which
he had his own ideas about.
He rejected the first and most summary method;
for the rest, he postponed the matter. An Indian
chief postpones the tomahawk; he understands
the fine torture of suspense.
June was too tender for that, even with her foe.
She could say nothing about Neal; she must
leave him to manage his own affairs; but she did
go to Miss Posackley-believing that her brother
would do as he had said, and that the watch would
have to be found over again in the block-house
cellar-and asked her if "Miss Dernham and
A REPEAT OF HISTORY.
Miss Moore and I could go up there again,
"just for a few minutes."
Miss Posackley refused. It would be a prece-
dent for all the rest. They had all seen it; that
must now be enough.
No more block-house to-day, my dear. I
have quite made up my mind on that point. It is
growing late, besides; and we are going to the
Glad of it! was Hester Moore's comment.
They all would come tumbling after. Amabel, I
want you. There are lovely rock-mosses up on the
steep knoll." And she turned off, without further
notice of Junia, who had done her the kindness.
Amabel followed, longing for rock-mosses, but
demurring about cows,
"Cows don't go up -the side of a house," re-
torted Hester. "And the fences are beyond it,
The rock-knoll rose from the extremity of the
low, natural bank-wall which separated the block-
house level on the front from the terrace below,
the verge of which was the broad "big flat," and
whence descended again, in abrupt declivity, the
real precipice in the face of which, upon the river-
brink, was the traditional cave. The knoll jutted,
like a steep headland, over into an adjoining
meadow on its farther side; on the right, its ridge,
bushy with sweet-fern and brambles, trended grad-
ually to the plane of the fortress field. Toward
the block-house, these wild growths gave a cover
nearly all the way. Elsewhere, all was visible
upon this plane to those upon the flat below.
A walled-in lane led from the left upper corner
of the block-house field, between the meadow and
some corn-land, up to the high, wooded pastures;
at its head, a stout, heavy pair of bars stretched
across. Up this lane Neal Royd was walking,
whistling, having mended Zibbie's fire and filled
her kettle for her dish-washing.
I guess it '11 keep that girl flock to the lower
lot faster than any commandment," he said to him-
self, as he came and leaned for a moment upon the
bars. Out beyond, some seven or eight cows were
Royd let down the bars and stood there watch-
ing the cows.
"They can't get farther than the block-house
flat," he said again. There'll be a red-skin block-
ade, sure enough; Pester More wont dare run that
blockade, either. I like to see that laws are kept.
I was to be useful; I '11 be as useful as I can."
He had no notion that Hester Moore and Amabel
were at the very moment on that side of the ter-
race wall, hurrying along the sheltered dip of
ground toward the block-house. He only meant
they should not find it possible to get there.
When he turned and walked down the lane again,
they were already within the ancient wooden walls.
The cows had seen him,--had lifted their heads
at his coaxing Co co "-and with their kinely
instinct, were heading slowly toward the opened
way, possibly anticipating a pan of salt.
Neal made straight for the big flat and the
descent to the cavern. On the picnic ground he
overtook June, lingering there alone. She had
been helping Zibbie gather up the fragments;
Zibbie had now gone down to the pier, her arms
laden with baskets.
"Where 's the crowd ? Neal asked his sister.
What's left you out ? "
The crowd is in the cavern, and on the shore,
and all along," she replied. I waited with
Amabel. She went with Hester Moore to get
mosses on the knoll."
"Whe-ew whistled Neal, taking in the situa-
tion, and glancing up behind them. Nothing was
moving on the knoll, but great red, horned creat-
ures, wending their way down and deploying
themselves around the block-house. Yes, another
creature, too, which he had not seen in his recon-
naissance at the bar place !
A grand old sachem of the herd and two young
braves of steers had been in the wood edge, and
had followed the gentle mothers down. The big
horns and massive brute forehead of the patriarch
were rearing with a proud, investigating toss, as he
came magnificently through the lane-way.
The block-house was nearer the bank-wall than
to the upper field and the lane by nearly three-
fourths of the whole distance.
"What is it, Neal? What do you mean?"
cried June, hurriedly.
They 're well caught in their own trap," he
answered. "Now let 'em stay awhile. You come
along down." And he picked up an armful of
baskets and turned to descend the cliff pathway.
Now, June knew that they were in the block-
house, though she had spoken truly in saying that
they had left her to go upon the knoll. She, too,
grasped the situation; she discerned what Neal
had suspected and had done.
You mean boy she exclaimed, in bitter,
forceful indignation. There is nothing so keen,
so cutting, cruel, as the two-edged sword which
smites at once an offender and the offended,
If she had not said that, Neal would have looked
around, at least, to know if she were following; as
it was, he kept his head quite straight away from
her and marched on, disappearing down the rapid
slope. June gave one swiftly measuring gaze up-
ward, and then sprang to the low wall, scaled
it,-scarce knowing where the tips of feet and
fingers clung,-and flew along the ground to the
block-house. She felt sure they were in the cellar
and would not see. She rounded the building in
a flash, and darted in at the open door.
Amabel Hester !" she called. Come, quick!
There are cattle in the field! Hurry! hurry!
They 're standing still and feeding; you can get
out; only make haste "
The bull was at the lane foot; he paused there,
with his stately air of survey; he gave a low snort
of question ; he sniffed, as if suspecting something
for his interference.
June stood in the door-way, watching; calling
eagerly again to her companions, who lingered,-
Hester divided -between the distress of her loss
and her fear of the cattle.
"Girls come He 's moving !
That masculine pronoun sent them up with a
struggle. Hester clambered out of the trap, pushed
up by Amabel; then, was actually on the point of
rushing forth, leaving Amabel to her own unaided
Shame stop !" cried Junia, in a voice that her
school-fellow never--she herself scarcely ever till
to-day-had known for hers. "Take hold of her
other hand "
June already had Amabel by one hand; and
Hester, constrained doubly,- for she could not have
confronted the creatures alone,-obeyed. Mean-
time, the Bos (is that what "boss" comes from ?),
seeing and hearing and moving with something
more of purpose, was tramping down toward the
open door-way. The three girls saw him so, as they
turned, and not twenty paces from the entrance.
Oh, we can't !" cried Amabel.
He '11 come in !" shrieked Hester.
Go up the ladder," said June; and remarked
as in a dream, as she said it, how that other June
and Mabel Dunham had gone up that very ladder,
into that very loft, long before, in the old time in
the story. It was as if it had stood there a hun-
dred years, waiting for them to come back and
live their terrors over again together.
Hester and Mabel hurried up; June came last.
Then the great animal actually walked in upon
the floor below, and 'raised his voice in a mutter
that trembled along the timbers under their feet.
Hester cried. Amabel shook with fright. June
went over to a loop-hole that looked toward the
flat. "There is no danger," she said, quietly, and
reached out through the narrow aperture, waving
her white handkerchief.
Amabel looked at her watch. It is a quarter
to five now," she said, "and this is slow, too."
There was nobody in sight. The flat was cleared,
and they were all down upon the shore, hidden and
unseeing beneath the high, overhanging rocks.
June absolutely smiled. "Block-house good;
got no scalp," she quoted. "They '11 soon come
up, and miss us. And there 'I1- be Mrs. Single-
well's wise half hour."
She picked up a strip of old split board that lay
near, pulled her handkerchief fast into a cleft at
its end, and thrust it far out through the opening.
Chiefie will take care," June said again.
She spoke his name proudly and tenderly, sorry
in her heart for her quick bitterness, and sure of
how sorry he would be for any trouble to her.
"The worst that could happen would be for
him to have to go up to the farm, and us to get
belated. But we know the Ronnquists, and they 'll
take care of us, somehow.- It 's so like the
story, Mabel!" she added, with a loving move-
ment toward the girl, that might have been the
gentle grace of the Tuscarora June herself.
This half comforted Hester. If she could only
have one more search,-properly, with a light,-
and if then they could only get to Nonnusquam
before Blanche Hardy, the next day! Blanche
Hardy was so "awfully" true,-so hard on any
little slip or quibble. She began to feel quite bold
with the reaction; and to her small nature the re-
bound from fear was impulse to some safe insolence.
She stamped upon the floor, below which the great
beast was tramping. She even went to the upper
trap-way and through the opening began to unfurl
her parasol, with which she had been groping in
Pester More !" cried June, using involuntarily
and most appropriately Neal's sobriquet, do you
know what you 're about? That cardinal-red
He can't touch us now," said the girl. You
"Us!" ejaculated June, contemptuously. "Some-
body else has got to come, I suppose you know."
And she took the sunshade unceremoniously into
her own keeping.
Miss Posackley's little conductor's whistle sound-
ed just before the half hour. The prisoners could
see from the loop-holes the gathering from differ-
ent directions, as the stragglers came in sight along
the rocks, and drew toward the pier.
The bull was pawing and snorting; occasionally
a growling bellow broke forth, quite audible to
the river; and the three girls saw many a quick
start and turn, and a general air of huddling and
questioning among their companions, as they hur-
ried down the plank-way and pressed around Miss
Posackley, with glances backward, and pointing,
and gestures of wonder, if not of apprehension.
Miss Posackley looked tranquil. "Down in the
meadow, probably," she was saying; "there is
certainly nothing in sight."
A REPEAT OF HISTORY.
But all at once there was a greater stir; a look-
ing everywhere. There came a calling of voices.
June worked her heavy flag-staff up and down,
with difficulty. Then a dozen fingers pointed to
the block-house and the white signal. Then Miss
Posackley began to flurry and agitate. There
were no provisional orders for a thing like this.
She was off her tramway.
They could already see the white steam-wreath
of the boat stealing along behin-1 L.... F-;..o
mile or so below. It had to m ..... :'..... ii
Burt's Landing; then another fivw: r,,,.i- ..i.
bring it up. It was a little in advar..:.- ...t r- ,,II.I
Neal Royd came up the wate,-:i..:- I'.-.. ih.
river to the wharf. There had beei r... [.pr.:.!i .ir,
against his canoeing, and he had -..r. u. r!.
little creek beyond the meadow. r -w ,,: 1-.
to reach the back-lying _- -
farm-house by the short-
est way, and bring down -.
help to get the cattle up
again. Since the past- -
ure-autocrat had ap-
peared upon the scene,
the conditions were ---- .
changed. The girls
were safe in the block- '-.
house, but to release i
them another hand-
and one used to the .'-.
management of the ''T
herd-might be need- W, .
ed. From the upland.
path into which he
struck on leaving his
canoe, and by which, -
in a few minutes' walk, '- =-.- --
he gained the ridge, he
had looked across and
perceived, as he sup-
posed, the whole herd,
returned meanwhile in-
to its proper pasture,
taking its slow, after- THE TH
noon way along the
dips and windings in the direction of the twilight
home-going. Brush copses and swells of land
prevented his being certain of individuals or of the
entire number; but the open level about the block-
house was in full view, and was quite empty of
He had crossed to the head of the lane, a little
beyond which he had been walking while on the
ridge,.had taken one more survey downward, put
up the bars again, and gone back to his boating,
relieved of further responsibility.
Rowing down under the woody banks of the
creek, and again, while beneath the cliffs upon the
river, he heard, with some misgiving of uncertainty,
that low roar, muffled in the distance. Was it in
the distance of the pasture ?
Springing up the pier-steps, he saw the excited,
restless groups; the roar now came distinctly, and
pronounced and heavy; the handkerchief-flag was
waved once-and wildly-
Ift:.., t-, t :,.r .I- .: rl j.
.,E ,1,,. i. _,,:,,-I-- -..... -. "a % " 'Is ,. '
EREE GIRLS CLAMBERED UP THE LADDER.
Junia was missing from among the school-girls.
Neal saw that with quick eyes, before he had
seemed to look at all. And the fact that she was
missing spurred him to instant action. He ran up
the long side incline of the roadway, and leaped
the wall into the block-house field.
June's voice came clear and shrill from the
Keep away, Neal! He's angry now. Don't
come alone. We're safe up here; only bring
somebody soon "
-;---;- --: -l
' ,,., ,,,
Neal leaped the wall again, and ran down to
"You had better leave this to me, Miss
Posackley," he said. Let Zibbie stay, to look
after the young ladies. I '11 get some one from
the farm, if I can't do better. There 's a train up
from Hopegood's at seven; Ben Ronnquist will
take us over; let somebody meet us at the Cor-
ners. Or, if we should miss that, Mrs. Ronnquist
will keep the girls safe till morning. You need n't
be the least uneasy. The old block-house is good
for a worse siege, and you see they know what
they 're about !I '11 run no risk."
Miss Posackley vibrated, rotated. Her bonnet
whirled like a weather-vane between the opposite
quarters of her alarmed anxieties. From the
block-house came the horrible brute voice; from
the advancing steamer the warning shriek of its
"Go on, girls Neal shouted, without cere-
mony, to the hesitating damsels. Go on board
at once. Come here, Zibbie."
By the pure force of his decision he had his
way; Miss Posackley's young ladies turned, with
shuddering submission, to the gang-plank. Miss
Posackley gave one or two more spasmodic spins,
and followed. She took in the wisdom of her
forced conclusion gradually, as she calmed. By
the time she reported herself at Nonnusquam, she
had innocently adopted it as her own. "It was
the only thing to be done," she said. And the
next day, when all was safe, and Mrs. Singlewell
had returned to hear the story, the subject had so
grown upon her that she covered herself with
It was no time to hesitate," she explained.
" If there had been a minute more of excitement,
we all might have been left."
You acted most wisely and promptly, Miss
Posackley," said Mrs. Singlewell, amazed at the
fact in her own mind. But there is never any
knowing," she said to herself, what latent en-
ergies a great emergency may draw forth."
Miss Posackley took the commendation with
a meek pleasure. She had had no idea of falsi-
fying; she simply had not seen herself as a
There is not very much more to be told of. this
little analogy of adventure and character.
Neal, left alone in command, considered briefly,
then ordered his campaign. He did not like to
leave the girls alone with their formidable neigh-
bor and their own nerves, safe though they were
from actual danger; nor would Zibbie consent
to be left around loose with that old ring-in-the-
nose." He approached the block-house on the
lower side. and called up to the loop-hole:
June Fling out a scarf, or something; red,
if you have it."
June poked out Hester's cardinal sunshade.
This?" she asked.
Just the ticket. Drop it! "
But oh, Chiefie Please take care Don't
be venturesome "
"Don't worry nor weep, June. The harbor
bar is n't moaning." And with the ambiguous
comfort of this allusion he seized the red parasol
and made swift way around the field to the head
of the lane, let down the bars again, and came
through walking toward the block-house. He
watched his moment when the creature faced to-
ward him, and then unfurled the parasol, and
waved it defiantly.
"Auld Hornie thought, perhaps, it was a girl-
enemy; at any rate, he took the bait and chal-
lenge, and made furiously for the insolent bit of
Neal rushed up the narrow way, well ahead of
him, through the bars, and along by the wall, for
a sufficient distance; then he jumped into the
corn-field, and thence back into the lane ; and he
had the bars up while the bull was still following
his roundabout track, and raging at its doublings
and interceptions. And, in a moment more, Neal
returned, demurely holding over his head the red
sunshade, somewhat damaged by its flight across
two fences, to find the block-house garrison just
cautiously and timidly emerging from its shelter.
He gave the parasol to his sister, without apol-
ogy, and ignoring ownership.
Come along, now; we 've no time to lose,"
he said, and led the way to the rough cart-road,
and up its rutty ascent toward the farm-buildings,
visible half a mile off upon the hill.
As they walked, he made opportunity to come
into line with, but scarcely alongside, Miss Hester
Moore. He drew something from his pocket,
which he held out to her, at a fair arm's length,
-as if he had another dangerous creature to deal
"You may as well have this back," he said.
" Two mean things don't make a smart one."
Hester clutched the trinket eagerly, then flamed
Two mean things Then you let in those
"'Well, I did. But that was n't the mean thing I
meant." And he left her, scorning to explain him-
self, or to rebuke her further.
"A regular meanie can't be made to be ashamed,"
he said to June afterward. "I give it up."
Ben Ronnquist, when he had heard from Neal
the particulars of their having been left behind by
the boat, hitched his horse to the broad-seated
A REPEAT O
family wagon, which was to take them to the cars.
Hester and Amabel were helped in first. A small
boy was to go with the team, to bring it back; and
there was also Zibbie, to ride in front with Neal.
I wonder if there 's room in here for June ? "
Hester asked, disfavoringly, from behind, when she
and Amabel were seated.
Well, I guess there 'd better be said Neal
Roughead, in a short, strong way.
Whether she took a cue at last from this utter-
ance, or whether with her, as with Miss Posackley,
the things that had been beyond her began to come
to her by degrees, at least in so far as to reveal to
her certain probabilities of a knowledge that might
be power, Miss Moore sat awhile in the darkness,
F HISTORY. 459
("Arrowhead great chief," had said the Tuscarora
woman in the story.)
When Blanche Hardy heard of June's behavior
at the block-house, she came to her,-not with
sudden patronizing, or conscious compliment of
approval, but with the warm impulse of like to like.
She stopped where June was standing, laid a
hand lightly on her shoulder and another on her
arm, leaning toward her as if drawn.
"You were courageous to do that," she said.
June flushed brightly, but answered simply:
"I was not afraid. And how could I do any-
thing else ?"
\\^ ', .-- .
- -., ,. ..... ".,I --
"NEAL RUSHED AHEAD THROUGH THE BARS."
silent; and she spoke-at length in quite different
"We've seen a good deal of each other to-day,
June. We '11 get together rather more after this,
"Will we?" responded simple June. "It's only
people that belong that get together, I think. To-
day was an accident."
After they were in the cars, Amabel came and
took a place by June. There was plenty of room;
Hester, Zibbie, and Neal had each a whole seat.
"Don't you think, Junie, that people who want
to, get to belong' ? I'd like to belong' to people
like you and Neal."
"Neal is a dear chiefie," responded gentle June.
Then Blanche Hardy leaned closer and kissed
her. "You could n't, I know," she said.
Now Blanche Hardy, from pure height of char-
acter and its noble presence and showing, was the
real queen of the school,-not by any means
merely of a little artificial clique.
From that day June went naturally and as one
"belonging "--up higher. Blanche Hardy became
her fast and intimate friend. Nobody, any more,
could snub or condescend to her. She was of a peer-
age above clan or coterie. Yet she remained in all
sweet loyalty and non-pretense as aboriginal as ever.
Amabel, loving and seeking June also, was
won to her own true place among those who
"belonged" through the longing to be.
It is only the half, or spurious, attainment, like All deaths are not by tomahawking. There is a deep-
half faith, or cant, that holds itself within marked er decease by very miscreancy itself. I have nothing
and excluding lines; the true noblesse is as catholic further to mention concerning Miss Pester More.
as the household of God's saints. It is human nature that repeats itself in young
or old, in wild or civilized; history and romance
In Cooper's story, the miscreant Muir had died. are but the facts and pictures of it.
BY SYDNEY DAYRE.
And girls who lived with her long ago,
And then went to Heaven-she told me so.
" I went up close, and I did n't speak
One word, but I gave her on her cheek
The softest bit of a little kiss,
Just in a whisper, and then said this:
Grandmother dear it 's time for tea.'
" MAMMA said: 'Little one, go and see
If Grandmother's ready to come to tea.'
I knew I must n't disturb her, so
I stepped as gently along, tiptoe,
And stood a moment to take a peep-
And there was Grandmother fast asleep!
" I knew it was time for her to wake;
I thought I 'd give her a little shake,
Or tap at her door or softly call;
But I had n't the heart for that at all-
She looked so sweet and so quiet there,
Lying back in her high arm-chair,
With her dear white hair, and a little smile,
That means she 's loving you all the while.
" I did n't make a speck of a noise;
I knew she was dreaming of little boys
She opened her eyes and looked at me,
And said: 'Why, Pet, I have just now dreamed
Of a little angel who came and seemed
To kiss me lovingly on my face.'
She pointed right at the very place!
" I never told her 't was only me;
I took her hand, and we went to tea."
THE LAND OF FIRE. 461
THE LAND OF FIRE.
A Tale of A adventure in Tierra del Fuego.
BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.
"THERE they are at last! Heaven have mercy
on us "
At these words of grave import from Captain
Gancy, work is instantly suspended, the boat-
builders dropping their tools, as though they
burned the hands that grasped them.
For some minutes the alarm runs high, all think-
ing their last hour is at hand. How can they think
otherwise, with their eyes bent on those black
objects, which, though but as specks in the far
distance, grow bigger while they stand gazing at
them, and which they know to be canoes full of
cannibal savages ? For they have no doubt that
the approaching natives are the Ailikolips. The
old Ailikolip wigwam, and the fact that the party
that so lately visited the cove were of this tribe,
make it evident that this is Ailikolip cruising
ground; while the canoes now approaching seem
to correspond in number with those of the party
that assailed them. If they be the same, and if they
should come on shore by the kitchen midden,-
then small hope of more boat-building, and, as is
only too likely, small hope of life for the builders.
One chance alone now prevents them from yield-
ing to utter despair- the savages may pass on
without landing. In that case, the castaways can
not be seen, nor will their presence there be sus-
pected. With scrupulous adherence to their orig-
inal plan, they have taken care that nothing of their
encampment shall be visible from the water; tent,
boat-timbers-everything-are screened on the
water side by a thick curtain of evergreens. Their
fire is always out during the day, and so there is
no tell-tale smoke.
Soon Captain Gancy observes what further allays
apprehension. With. the glass still at his eye, he
makes out the savages to be of both sexes and all
ages-even infants being among them, in the laps
of, or strapped to, their mothers. Nor can he see
any warlike insignia-- nothing white -the color
that in all other countries is emblematic of peace,
but which, by strange contrariety, in Tierra del
Fuego is the sure symbol of war !
The people in the canoes, whoever they may be,
are evidently on a peaceful expedition; possibly
they are some tribe or community on its way to
winter quarters. And they may not be Ailikolips
after all; or, at all events, not the former assail-
ants of Whale Boat Sound.
These tranquilizing reflections occur while the
Fuegians are yet far off. When first sighted, they
were on the opposite side of the arm, closely hug-
ging the land, the water in mid-channel being
rough. But, as they come nearer, they are seen
to change course and head diagonally across for
the southern side, which looks as if they intended
to land, and very probably, by the old wigwam.
Doubtless some of them may have once lived in it
and eaten of the mollusks, the shells of which are
piled upon the kitchen midden.
The castaways note this movement with return-
ing alarm, now almost sure that an encounter is
inevitable. But again are they gratified at seeing
the canoes turn broadside toward them, with bows
set sharp for the southern shore, and soon pass
Their disappearance is caused by the projecting
spit, behind which they have paddled, when clos-
ing in upon the land.
For what purpose have they put in there ? That
is the question now asked of one another by the
boat-builders. They know that, on the other side
of the promontory, there is a deep bay or sound,
running far inland; how far they can not tell, hav-
ing given it only careless glances while gathering
cranberries. Probably the Fuegians have gone up
it, and that may be the last of them. But what if
they have landed on the other side of the spit, to
stay there ? In this case, they will surely at some
time come around, if but to despoil the kelp-bed
of its shell-fish treasures.
All is conjecture now, with continuing appre-
hension and suspense. To put an end to the latter,
the two youths, alike impatient and impetuous,
propose a reconnaissance to go to the cranberry
ridge and take a peep over it.
No objects Seagriff, restraining them. "Ef
the savagers are ashore on t' other side, an' should
catch sight o' ye, yer chances for getting' back hyar
would n't be worth counting on. They can run
faster than chased foxes, and over any sort o'
ground. Therfur, it's best fer ye to abide hyar till
we see what 's to come of it."
So counseled, they remain, and for hours after
THE LAND OF FIRE.
nothing more is seen either of the canoes or of
their owners, although constant watch is kept for
them. Confidence is again in the ascendant, as
they now begin to believe that the savages have a
wintering place somewhere up the large inlet, and
are gone to it, may be to remain for months. If they
will stay but a week, all will be well; as by that
time the boat will be finished, launched, and away.
Confidence of brief duration, dispelled almost
as soon as conceived The canoes again appear
on the open water at the point of the promontory,
making around it, evidently intending to run be-
tween the kelp-bed and the shore, and probably to
land by the shell-heap With the castaways it is
a moment of dismay. No longer is there room
for doubt; the danger is sure and near. All the
men arm themselves, as best they can, with boat-
hook, ax, mallet, or other carpentering tool, re-
solved on defending themselves to the death.
But now a new surprise and puzzle greets them.
As the canoes, one after another, appear around
the point, they are seen to be no longer crowded;
but each seems to have lost nearly half its crew !
And of those remaining nearly all are women and
children-old women, too, with but the younger
of the girls and boys A few aged men are among
them, but none of the middle-aged or able-bodied
of either sex. Where are these? and for what
have they left the canoes ? About this there is no
time for conjecture. In less than five minutes after
their re-appearance, the paddled craft are brought
to shore by the shell-heap, and all-men, women,
children, and dogs-scramble out of them. The
dogs are foremost, and are first to find that the place
is already in possession. The keen-scented Fue-
gian canines, with an instinctive antipathy to white
people, immediately on setting paw upon land,
rush up to the camp and surround it, ferociously
barking and making a threatening show of teeth;
and it is only by vigorously brandishing the boat-
hook that they can be kept off.
Their owners, too, are soon around the camp;
as they come within sight of its occupants, one
after another crying out in surprise:
Akifka akinish / (" White man !")
The castaways now see themselves begirt by an
array of savage creatures -such as they have never
seen before, though they have had dealings with
uncivilized beings in many lands. Two score ugly
old women, wrinkled and blear-eyed, and with
tangled hair hanging over their faces, and with
them a number of old men, stoop-shouldered, and
of wizard aspect. Even the boys and girls have an
impish, unearthly look, like the dwarfs that figure
on the stage in a Christmas pantomime! But neither
old nor young show fear, or any sign of it. On the
contrary, on every face is an impudent expression
-threatening and aggressive-while the hoarse,
guttural sounds given out by them seem less like
articulate speech than like the chattering of apes.
Indeed, some of the old men appear more like
monkeys than human beings, reminding Captain
Gancy of the time when he was once beset in a
South African kloof, or ravine, by a troop of bark-
ing and gibbering dog-faced baboons.
For a time, all is turmoil and confusion, with
doubting fear on the part of the white people, who
can not tell what is to be the issue. Mrs. Gancy
and Leoline have retired into the tent, while the
men stand by its entrance, prepared to defend it.
They make no demonstration of hostility, how-
ever, but keep their weapons as much as possible
out of sight, and as calmly as possible await the
action of the savages. To show distrust might give
offense, and court attack,-no trifling matter, not-
withstanding the age and apparent imbecility of the
savages. Seagriff knows, if the others do not, that
the oldest and feeblest of them-woman or man-
would prove a formidable antagonist; and, against
so many, he and his four men companions would
stand but a poor chance. Luckily, he recalls a
word or two of their language which may conciliate
them; and, as soon as he has an opportunity of mak-
ing himself heard, he cries out in a friendly tone :
Arri! Cholid! ("Brothers Sisters! ")
His appeal has the effect intended, or seems to
have. With exclamations of astonishment at
hearing an akifka akinish address them in their
own tongue, the expression of their faces becomes
less fierce, and they desist from menacing gest-
THE LAND OF FIRE.
ures. One of the men, the oldest, and for this
reason having chief authority, draws near and
commences to pat Seagriff on the chest and back
alternately, all the while giving utterances to a
gurgling, chucking noise that sounds somewhat
like the cluck of a hen when feeding her chicks !
Having finished with .the old sealer, who has
reciprocated his quaint mode of salutation, he
extends it to the other three whites, one after the
other. But as he sees the doctor," who, at the
moment, has stepped from within the wigwam,
where he had been unperceived, there is a sudden
revulsion of feeling among the savages,-a return
to hostility,-the antipathy of all Fuegians to the
African negro being proverbially bitter. Strange and
unaccountable is this prejudice against the negro by
a people almost the lowest in humanity's scale.
cal skilokd! Uftucla (" Kill the black
dog! ") they cry out in spiteful chorus, half a
dozen of them making a dash at him.
Seagriff throws himself in front, to shield him
from their fury; and, with arms uplifted, appeal-
ingly calls out:
Ical shilokd-zapello ("The black dog is
but a slave.")
At this, the old man makes a sign, as if saying
the zapello is not worth their anger, and they retire,
but reluctantly, like wolves forced from their prey.
Then, as if by way of appeasing their spite, they
go stalking about the camp, picking up and
secreting such articles as tempt their cupidity.
Fortunately, few things of any value have been
left exposed, the tools and other highly prized
chattels having been stowed away inside the tent.
Luckily, also, they had hastily carried into it some
dried fungus and fish cured by the smoking
process, intended for boat stores. But Caesar's
outside larder suffers to depletion. In a trice it is
emptied-not a scrap being left by the prowling
pilferers. And everything, as soon as appropri-
ated, is eaten raw, just as it is found-seal's-flesh,
shell-fish, beech apples, berries, everything !
Hunger-ravenous, unappeasable hunger-
seems to pervade the whole crew; no doubt the fact
that the weather has been for a long time very
stormy has interfered with their fishing, and other-
wise hindered their procuring food. Like all sav-
ages, the Fuegian is improvident,- more so even
than some of the brute creation and rarely lays up
store for the future, and hence is often in terrible
straits, at the very point of starvation. Clearly, it
is so with those just landed; and, having eaten up
everything eatable that they can lay their hands
on, there is a scattering off amongst the trees in
quest of their most reliable food staple-the beech
apple. Some go gathering mussels and limpets
along the strand, while the more robust of the
women, under the direction of the old men, pro-
ceed to the construction of wigwams. Half a score
of these are set up, long branches broken from the
trees furnishing the rib-poles, which are roofed over
with old seal-skins taken out of the canoes. In a
wonderfully short time they are finished, almost as
quickly as the pitching of a soldier's tent. When
ready for occupation, fires are kindled in them,
around which the wretched creatures crouch and
shiver, regardless of smoke thick and bitter enough
to drive a badger from its hole. It is this that
makes them blear-eyed, and even uglier than
Nature intended them to be. But the night is now
near beginning, a chill, raw evening, with snow
falling, and they can better bear smoke than cold.
Nor are they any longer hungry. Their search
for shell-fish and fungus has been rewarded with
success, and they have eaten gluttonously of both.
Meanwhile, our friends the castaways have been
left to themselves, for the time undisturbed,
save by the dogs, which give them almost contin-
uous trouble. The skulking curs, led by one of
their kind, form a ring around the camp, deafen-
ing the ears of its occupants with their angry bay-
ing and barking. Strangely enough, as if sharing
the antipathy of their owners, they seem specially
hostile to the doctor," more furiously demon-
strating their antagonism to him than to any of the
others! The poor fellow is kept constantly on the
alert, to save his shins from their sharp teeth.
Late in the evening, the old chief, whom the
others call Annaqua (" the arrow"), pays the camp
a visit, professing great friendship, and again
going through the patting and chucking" pro-
cess as before. But his professions ill correspond
with his acts, as the aged sinner is actually detected
stealing the knife of Seagriff himself- and from
his person, too -a feat worthy the most accom-
plished master of legerdemain, the knife being
adroitly abstracted from its sheath on the old seal-
er's hip during the superfluous exchange of salu-
tations! Fortunately, the theft is discovered by
young Chester, who is standing near by, and the
thief caught in the very act. On the stolen article
being taken from under the pilferer's shoulder-
patch of seal-skin, where he had dexterously se-
creted it, he breaks out into a laugh, pretendingto
pass it off as a joke. In this sense the castaways
are pleased to interpret it, or to make show of
so interpreting it, for the sake of keeping on
friendly terms with him. Indeed, but that the
knife is a serviceable tool, almost essential to them,
he would be permitted to retain it; and, by way of
smoothing matters over, a brass button is given him
instead, with which he goes on his way rejoicing.
The old shark would steal the horns off a
goat, ef they warn't well fixed in," is Seagriff's
464 THE LAND OF FIRE.
remark, as he stands looking after their departing
visitor. Howsoever, let 's hope they may be
content wi' stealin', and not take to downright rob-
bery, or worse. We '11 hev to keep watch all night,
anyway, ez thar's no tellin' what they may be up
to. They never sleep. They 're perfect weasels."
And all night, watch
is kept, with a large fire
ablaze, there being now
no reason for letting it
go out. Two of the
party act as sentinels at .
a time, another pair tak- .. :..
ing their place. But in- i.' ., -
deed, throughout most .ie
of the night, all are .1J ..0
wakeful, slumber being "
denied them by the ,'-
barking of the dogs,
and yelling of the say-
ages, who, making good
Seagriff's words, seem
as though sleep were a
luxury they had no wish
to indulge in. And -'-
something seems to
have made them merry,
also. Out of their wig-
wams issue sounds of
boisterous hilarity, as .
though they were cele-
brating some grand fes- .
tival, with now and then
a peal of laughter that
might have proceeded
from the lungs of a sten-
tor. Disproportionate ..
as is the great strength
of a Fuegian to his lit-
tle body, his voice is
even more so; this is
powerful beyond belief,
and so loud as to be au-
dible at almost incred- -
ible distances Such a
racket as these wild me:.,
makers within the wigwmin:
are keeping up might-.:il .
prevent the most weary ..t
civilized m ortals from ev.. ....... .. I.... : 1.: : ,..
in sleep. And the uproar a1; tiil -.1, liLht.
But what the cause of their merriment may be,
or what it means, or how they can be merry at all
under such circumstances, is to the castaways who
listen anxiously to their hoarse clamor, a psycholog-
ical puzzle defying explanation. Huddled together
like pigs in a pen, and surely less comfortable
in the midst of the choking smoke, content-
ment even would seem an utter impossibility.
That there should exist such an emotion as joy-
fulness among them, is a fact which greatly aston-
ishes Ned Gancy and young Chester. Yet there
can be no doubt that they are contented for the
time, and even happy, if that word can ever be
; 1, i"[.[.|":'1 r ,:, .... tI' .i -_ ,i 2. :-.i t,.: ,--,,n,, hr on
I ., '.-i i n J h h .-.r 1 .., i,',:, t i 'i'.- l : ,".;r-
h 2 0_. O..I.:.t ..t ni.:'- r, .: i..-!,ef-
,-.: I. r. ill I .. [, 1',', 1 1 ,- 1 1 ': o f
Ih,: :. i .. cst
S. -. .
-. -.- Q- -. : ---
..itLch-d ui hLnihUan be.
ings to be all misery Far more miserable than
they, that night,-or, at least, far more burdened
with the sense of misery,- are those whom fate
has cast into the power of these savage creatures,
and who are obliged to listen to their howlings and
."'- .'- .'-.I
THE LAND OF FIRE.
To the castaways every hour of that night is one
of fear and agonizing suspense. Not so much from
apprehension of immediate, as of future danger.
With the occupants of the wigwam in such good
humor, it is not likely that they can be contem-
plating an attack at present. But when those who
are absent return- what then? This is the fear
now uppermost in the minds of Captain Gancy's
Nor does morning do aught to dispel their
anxiety; on the contrary, it is intensified by the
behavior of the savages, who are again in a sour
temper after their night's carouse. For, having
eaten up all their gatherings of yesterday, they
are again hungry. Young and old, there are
nearly a hundred of them, all ravenous gluttons, to
say nothing of the swarm of curs requiring to be fed.
By earliest daylight they come crowding around
the camp, as though they expected to find some-
thing eatable there. Disappointed in their hope,
they grin and chatter, showing their teeth like the
dogs. More especially are their menaces directed
toward the doctor "; and the poor fellow is fright-
ened to a death-like pallor, notwithstanding his
sable skin. He takes refuge within the tent-still
a sacred precinct-and does not dare to venture
out again. To propitiate them, presents are made
-the last things that can well be parted with. To
Annaqua is given a pipe, with some tobacco, while
the most importunate and seemingly most impor-
tant of the women have, each, a trifle bestowed
The gifts restore their good humor, or at least
make them contented for the time; and having
obtained all that can be given them, they scatter
away over the ground, going about their business
of the day.
The wherewithal for breakfast is, of course, their
first consideration, and this they find along the
strand and around the edge of the woods, though
more sparingly than in their search yesterday.
Only enough is obtained to afford them a stinted
repast-a mere luncheon. But the kelp-bed is
still to be explored, and for this they must wait
until the tide begins to ebb.
Meanwhile, they do not remain idle, another
resource engaging them--a feat for which the
Fuegian native has obtained a world-wide celebrity
-namely, diving for sea-eggs. A difficult, dan-
gerous industry it is, and just on this account
committed to the women, who alone engage in it.
Having dispatched their poor breakfast, half a
dozen of the younger and stronger women take to
the canoes,-two in each,-and paddle out to a
part of the water where they hope to find the sea-
Arriving there, she who is to do the diving
prepares for it by attaching a little wicker-basket
to her hip, her companion being intrusted to keep
the canoe in place, a task which is no easy one in
water so rough as that of the sea-arm chances to
Everything ready, the diver drops over, head
foremost, as fearlessly as would a water-spaniel,
and is out of sight for two or three minutes; then
the crow-black head is seen bobbing up again, and
swimming back to the canoe with a hand-over-
hand stroke, dog-fashion, the egg-gatherer lays
hold of the rail to rest herself, while she gives up
the contents of her basket.
Having remained above water just long enough
to recover breath, down she goes a second time,
to stay under for minutes, as before. And this
performance is repeated again and again, till at
length, utterly exhausted, she climbs back into
the canoe, and the other ties on the basket and
takes her turn at diving.
Thus, for hours, the sub-marine egg-gatherers
continue at their arduous, perilous task; and,
having finished it, they come paddling back to
And on landing, they make straight for the wig-
wams, and seat themselves by a fire,-almost in
it,-leaving the spoil to be brought up by others.
Then follows the festival" of chabucl-lithli
(sea-eggs), as they call it, these being their favor-
ite diet. But, in the present case, the "festival"
does not prove satisfactory, as the diving has
yielded a poor return, and others of the savages
therefore prepare to explore the kelp-bed,-the
reef being now above water.
Presently, enough of it is bare to afford footing;
and off go the shell-gatherers in their canoes,
taking the dogs along with them. For these are
starving, too, and must forage for themselves.
This they do most effectually, running hither and
thither over the reef, stopping now and then to
detach a mussel or limpet from its beard-fastening
to the rock, crunch the shell between their teeth,
and swallow the contents.
The Fuegian dogs are also trained to procure
food for their masters, in a manner which one of
them is now seen to put into practice. On the
more outlying ledges, some sea-fowl, themselves
seeking food, still linger fearlessly. Engrossed in
their grubbing, they fail to note that an enemy is
*The sea-eggs are a species of the family Echinide. Diving for them by the Fuegian women is one of their most painful and.
dangerous ways of procuring food, as they often have to follow it when the sea is rough, and in coldest weather.
THE LAND OF FIRE
near,-a little cock-eared cur, that has swum up
to the ledge, and, without bark or yelp, is stealthily
crawling toward it. Taking advantage of every
coigne of concealment, the dog creeps on till, at
length, with a bound, like a cat springing at a
sparrow, it seizes the great sea-bird, and kills it in
a trice, as a fox would a pheasant.
The shell-gatherers remain on the reef till the
rising water forces them to quit. But their in-
dustry meets with less reward than was anticipated,
and they return to the shore all out of sorts and
enraged at the white people, whom they now look
upon in the light of trespassers; for they know
that to them is due the scarcity of bivalves among
the kelp, where they had expected to reap a plen-
tiful harvest. Proof of its having been already
garnered is seen in a heap of recently emptied
shells lying under the trees near by,-a little
kitchen midden of itself.
Luckily the Fuegians have found enough to
satisfy their immediate wants, so neither on that
day nor the next do they make further display of
violence, though always maintaining a sullen de-
meanor. Indeed it is at all times difficult to avoid
quarreling with them, and doubtful how long the
patched up truce may continue. The very children
are aggressive and exacting, and ever ready to re-
sent reproof, even when caught in the act of pil-
fering-a frequent occurrence. Any tool or utensil
left in their way would soon be a lost chattel, as
the little thieves know they have the approval of
So, apart from their anxieties about the future,
the white people find it a time of present trouble.
They, too, must provide themselves with food,
and their opportunities have become narrowed,-
are almost gone. They might have starved ere
this, but for their prudent forethought in having
secreted a stock in the tent. They do not dare to
have a meal cooked during daylight, as some of
the savages are always on the alert to snatch at
anything eatable with bold, open hand. Only in
the midnight hours, when the Fuegians are in
their wigwams, has the doctor" a chance to give
the cured fish a hurried broil over the fire.
It is needless to say that all work on the boat is
suspended. In the face of their great fear, with a
future so dark and doubtful, the builders have
neither the courage nor heart to carry on their
work. It is too much a question whether it may
ever be resumed !
AN ODD RENEWAL OF ACQUAINTANCE.
FOR three days the castaways lead a wretched life,
in never ceasing anxiety,- for three nights, too,since
all the savages are rarely asleep at any one time.
Some of them are certain to be awake, and making
night hideous with unearthly noises-and, having
discovered this to be the time when the whites do
their cooking, there are always one or two skulk-
ing about the camp-fire,' on the lookout for a mor-
sel. The dogs are never away from it.
When will this horrid existence end ? and how?
Some change is sure to come when the absent
members of the tribe return. Should they prove
to be those encountered in Whale Boat Sound, the
question would be too easily answered. But it is
now known that, although Ailikolips, they can not
be the same. The cause of their absence has also
been discovered by the ever alert ears of Seagriff.
The savages had heard of a stranded whale in
some sound or channel only to be reached over-
. ""' F .
land, and thither are they gone to secure the grand
booty of blubber.
The distance is no doubt considerable, and the
path difficult, for the morning of a fourth day has
dawned, and still they are not back. Nor can any-
thing be seen of them upon the shore of the inlet,
which is constantly watched by one or more of the
women, stationed upon the cranberry ridge.
On this morning the savages seem more restless
and surly than ever; for they are hungrier than
ever, and nearly famishing. They have picked the
kelp-reef clean, leaving not a mussel nor limpet on
it; they have explored the ribbon of beach as far
as it extends, and stripped the trees of their fun-
gus parasites till none remain. And now they go
straying about, seeming like hungry wolves, ready
THE LAND OF FIRE.
to spring at and tear to pieces anything that may
chance in their way.
By this time the old men, with most of the
women, have drawn together in a clump, and are
evidently holding council on some subject of gen-
eral interest--intense interest, too, as can be told
by their earnest speechifying, and the gesticulation
that accompanies it. Without comprehending a
word that is said, Seagriff knows too well what they
are talking about. All that he sees portends a dan-
ger that he shrinks from declaring to his compan-
ions. They will doubtless learn it soon enough.
And now he hears words that are known to him,
-"ical-akinish," and silotke"; hears them
repeated again and again. It is the black man,
the doctor," who is doomed !
The negro himself appears to have a suspicion
of it, as he is trembling in every fiber of his frame.
He need not fear dying, if the others are to live.
Rather than surrender him for such sacrifice, they
will die with him in his defense.
All are now convinced that the crisis, long
apprehended, has come; and, with their weapons
in hand, stand ready to meet it. Still, the savages
appear to disagree, as the debate is prolonged.
Can it be that, after all, there is mercy in their
breasts ? Something like it surely stirs Annaqua,
who seems endeavoring to dissuade the others
from carrying out the-purpose of which most are
in favor. Perhaps the gifts bestowed on him have
won the old man's friendship; at all events, he
appears to be pleading delay. Ever and anon he
points in the direction of the cranberry ridge, as
though urging them to wait for those gone after
the whale; and once he pronounces a word, on
hearing which Henry Chester gives a start, then
earnestly listens for its repetition. It is-as he
first thought Elearu."
Did you hear that ? asks the young English-
man in eager haste.
Hear what ? demands Ned Gancy, to whom
the question is addressed.
"That word EleParu.' The old fellow has
spoken it twice says Henry.
Well, and if he has ? queries Ned.
You remember our affair at Portsmouth with
those three queer creatures and the wharf-rats? "
Of course I do. Why do you ask ? "
One of them, the man, was named Eleparu,"
answers Chester; adding, "The girl called him
so, and the boy too."
I did n't hear that name."
No ? says Henry; then it must have been
before you came up."
Yes," answers young Gancy, for the officer
who took them away called the man York, the
boy, Jemmy, and the girl, Fuegia."
That's so. But how did she ever come to be
named Fuegia ? "
That does seem odd; just now--"
"Hark Hear that? the old fellow has just
said 'Ocushlu!' That 's the name the other two
gave the girl. Whatever can it mean ? "
But now, the youth's hurried dialogue is brought
to an abrupt end. Annaqua has been out-voted,
his authority set at naught, and the council broken
up. The triumphant majority is advancing toward
the camp, with an air of fierce resolve; women as
well as men armed with clubs, flint-bladed dag-
gers, and stones clutched in their closed fists. In
vain is it now for Seagriff to call.out: Brothers !
Sisters !" The savages can no longer be cajoled
by words of flattery or friendship ; and he knows
it. So do the others, all of whom are now stand-
ing on the defensive. Even Mrs. Gancy and
Leoline have armed themselves, and come out of
the tent, determined to take part in the life-and-
death conflict that seems inevitable. The sailor's
wife and daughter both have braved danger ere
now, and, though never one like this, they will
meet it undaunted.
It is at the ultimate moment that they make
appearance and, seeing them for the first time,
the savage assailants halt, hesitatingly, not
through fear, but rather with bewilderment at the
unexpected apparition. It moves them not to pity,
however, nor begets within them one throb of
merciful feeling. Instead, the Fuegian hags but
seem more embittered at seeing persons of their
own sex so superior to them, and, recovering from
their surprise, they clamorously urge the com-
mencement of the attack.
Never have the castaways been so near to death
with such attendant horrors. So near to it do
they feel, that Captain Gancy groans, under his
Our end is come "
But not yet is it come. Once more is the Al-
mighty Hand opportunely extended to protect
them. A shout interrupts the attack a joyous
shout from one of the women watchers, who now,
having forsaken her post, is seen coming down the
slope of the spit at a run, frantically waving her
arms and vociferating :
Cabrela / cabrela / (" They come they
The savages, desisting from their murderous in-
tent, stand with eyes turned toward the ridge, on
the crest of which appears a crowd of moving
forms that look like anything but human beings.
On their way to the beach, they are forced into sin-
gle file by the narrowness of the path, and become
strung out like the links of a long chain. But not
even when they come nearer and are better seen,
THE LAND OF FIRE.
do they any more resemble human beings. They
have something like human heads, but these are
without necks and indeed sunken between the
shoulders, which last are of enormous breadth
and continued into thick, armless bodies, with
short, slender legs below !
As they advance along the beach at a slow pace,
in weird, ogre-like procession, the white people are
for a time entirely mystified as to what they may be.
Nor can it be told until they are close up. Then
it is seen that they are human beings after all-
Fuegian savages, each having the head thrust
through a flitch of whale blubber that falls,
poncho-fashion, over the shoulders, draping down
nearly to the knees !
The one in the lead makes no stop until within
a few yards of the party of whites, when, seeing
the two youths who are in front, he stares won-
deringly at them, for some moments, and then
from his lips leaps an ejaculation of wild surprise,
followed by the words:
"Portsmout' Inglan' "
Then, hastily divesting himself of his blubber-
mantle, and shouting back to some one in the rear,
he is instantly joined by a woman, who in turn
"Yes, Portsmout'! The Ailwalk' akifka/"
("The white boys.")
"Eleparu Ocushlu "exclaims Henry Chester,
all amazement; Ned Gancy, equally astonished,
simultaneously crying out:
"York Fuegia "
(To be concluded.)
THE GNU BABY.
BY E. S. BROOKS,
(Author of The Field of the Cloth of Gold" and Comedies for Children.")
HARRY OF MONMOUTH: THE BOY GENERAL.
[Afterward King Henry V. of England.]
A. D. 1402.
A TAPESTRIED chamber in the gray old pile
known as Berkhampstead Castle. The bright
sunlight of an early English spring streaming
through the latticed window plays upon the golden
head of a fair young maid of ten, who, in a quaint
costume of gold-striped taffeta and crimson velvet,
looks in evident dismay upon the antics of three
merry boys circling around her, as she sits in a
carved and high-backed oaken chair. In trim suits
of crimson, green, and russet velvet, with curious
hanging sleeves and long, pointed.shoes, they range
themselves before the trembling little maiden,
while the eldest lad, a handsome, lithe, and active
young fellow of fourteen, sings in lively and rollick-
O, I am King Erik of Denmark,
Tara, n, tarrn,lrra !
O, I am King Erik of Denmark,
Tarran, tarran, tarra
O, I am King Erik of Denmark shore-
A frosty and crusty old Blunderbore-
With ships and knights a-sailing o'er,
To carry Philippa to Elsinore!"
And then with a rousing shout the three boys
swooped down upon the beleaguered little damsel
and dragged her off to the dim, stone staircase that
led to the square tower of the keep.
"Have done, have done, Harry," pleaded the
little girl as she escaped from her captors. "Mas-
ter Lionel, thou surely shouldst defend a princess
"Ay, Princess, but our tutor, Master Rothwell,
says that 1 am to obey my Liege and Prince, and
him alone," protested gay young Lionel, and sure
he bade me play the trumpeter of King Erik."
"A plague on King Erik," cried Philippa, seek-
ing refuge behind the high-backed chair. I
wish I had ne'er heard of him and his kingdom
of Denmark. O, Harry t Nurse Joanna tells me
that they do eat but frozen turnips and salted beef
Sin his dreadful country, and that the queen mother,
Margaret, wears a gambisonf and hauberkt like to
a belted knight."
"Why, of course she does," assented the mis-
chievous Harry; and, drawing a solemn face, he
added, "yes-and she eats a little girl, boiled
with lentils, every saint's day as a penance. That's
why they want an English wife for Erik, for, seest
thou, there are so many saint's days that there are
not left in Denmark wee damsels enough for the
But the sight of pretty Philippa's woful tears
staid her brother's teasing.
"There, there," he said, soothingly; "never
mind my fun, Philippa. This Erik is not so bad
a knight I'll warrant me, and when thou art
Queen of Denmark, why, I shall be King of Eng-
land, and my trumpeter, Sir Lionel here, shall
sound a gallant defiance as I come
'Sailing the sea to Denmark shore
With squires and bowmen a hundred score,
If ever this frosty old Blunderbore
Foul treateth Philippa at Elsinore,'
and thus will we gallop away with the rescued
Queen," he added, as seizing Philippa in his arms
he dashed around the room followed by his com-
panions. But while the four were celebrating, in a
wild dance of "all hands around," the fancied
rescue of the misused queen, the tapestry parted
and Sir Hugh de Waterton, the governor of the
King's children, entered.
"My lord Prince," he said, "the King thy
father craves thy presence in the council-room."
So, I am summoned," said the Prince; good
Sir Hugh, I will to the King at once. That means
'good-by,' Sis; for to-morrow I am off to the Welsh
wars to dance with the lords-marchers and Owen
Glendower, to a far different strain. Yield not to
these leaguering Danes, Philippa, but if thou dost,
when I am back from the Welsh wars, I'll hie me
'With golden nobles in goodly store
To ransom Philippa at Elsinore,'"
and, kissing his sister fondly, Harry of Monmouth,
Prince of Wales, parted the heavy arras and de-
scended to the council-room.
And now the scene changes. Months have
passed since that jolly romp in the old castle,
among the hills of Hertfordshire, and under a
wet and angry sky we stand within the King's tent,
glad to escape from the driving storm.
To young Lionel Langley, as he peeped through
the outer curtains of the tent and watched the floods
of rain, it seemed as if all the mountains in the shires
Copyright, 1883, by E. S. Brooks. All rights reserved.
t A stuffed doublet worn under armor. I A coat of mail formed of small steel rings interwoven.
of Breccon and Radnor had turned themselves into
water-spouts to drench and drown the camp of the
English invaders, as it lay soaked and shivering
there in the marches* of Wales. King Henry's
tent, we learn from an old chronicle, was picchid
on a fayre playne," but Lionel thought it anything
but fair as he turned from the dismal prospect.
"Rain, rain, rain," he grumbled, throwing
himself down by the side of stout Humfrey
Wallys, archer in the King's guard; "why doth it
always rain in this fateful country? Why can it
not blow over? Why,--why must we stay cooped
up under these soaking tent-tops, with ne'er a sight
of fun or fighting?"
Ah, why, why, why? said the good-natured
archer, "'t is ever why? with thee, Sir Questioner.
But, if thou be riddling, ask us something easier.
Why doth a cow lie down ? Why is it fool's fun to
give alms to a blind man? How many calves' tails
doth it take to reach to the moon ?"
H'm," grunted Lionel, "thy riddles be as stale
as Michaelmas mutton. I can answer them all."
"So-canst thou, young shuttle-brain?" cried
the archer, "then, by the mass, thou shalt. Answer
now, answer," he demanded, as he tripped up young
Lionel's feet and pinned him to the ground with a
pikestaff, "answer, or I will wash thy knowing face
in yonder puddle,- Why doth a cow lie down ?"
Faith, because she can not sit," lazily answered
"Hear the lad! He doth know it, really. Well
- why is it not wise to give alms to a blind man ? "
"Because," responded the boy, "even if thou
didst, he would be glad could he see thee hanged
-as would I also "
"Thou young knave Now- hbw many calves'
tails will it take to reach to the moon ? "
"Oh, Humfrey, ease up thy pikestaff, man; I
can barely fetch my breath--how many ? Why,
one,- if it be long enough," and, wriggling from
his captor, the nimble Lionel tripped him up in
turn, and, in sheer delight at his discomfiture,
turned a back somersault and landed almost on
the toes of two unhelmeted knights, who came
from the inner pavilion of the royal tent.
Why, how now, young tumble-foot-dost thou
take this for a mummer's booth, that thou dost play
thy pranks so closely to thy betters?" a quick voice
demanded, and in much shame and confusion
Lionel withdrew himself hastily from the royal feet
of his "most dread sovereign and lord," King
Henry the Fourth, of England.
Pardon, my Liege," he stammered, I did but
think to stretch my stiffened legs."
So; thou art tent-weary too," said the King;
and then asked "and where learn'dst thou that
hand-spring ? "
"So please your Majesty, from my lord
Prince," the boy replied.
Ay, that thou didst, I'll warrant me," said the
King, good-humoredly. In aught of prank or
play, or tumbler's trick, 't is safe to look to young
Harry of Monmouth as our page's sponsor. But
where lags the lad, think you, my lord ? he asked,
turning to his companion, the Earl of Westmore-
land. We should, methinks, have had post from
him ere this."
"'T is this fearful weather stays the news, your
Majesty," replied the Earl. "No courserman
could pass the Berwyn and Plinlimmon hills in so
wild a storm."
"Ay, wild indeed," said the King, peering out
through the parted curtains. I am fain almost
to believe these men of Wales who vaunt that
the false Glendower is a black necromancer, who
can call to his aid the dread demons of the air.
Hark to that blast," he added, as a great gust of
wind shook the royal tent, "'t is like a knight's
defiance, and, like true knights, let us answer it.
Hollo, young Lionel, be thou warder of thy King,
and sound an answering blast."
Lionel, who was blest with the strong lungs of
healthy boyhood, grasped the trumpet, and a de-
fiant peal rang through the royal tent. But it was
an unequal contest, for instantly, as chronicles old
Capgrave, there blew suddenly so much wynd,
and so impetuous, with a gret rain, that the Kyng's
tent was felled, and a spere cast so violently, that,
an the Kynghad not been armed, he had been ded
of the strok."
From all sides came the rush of help, and the
King and his attendants were soon rescued, un-
harmed, from the fallen pavilion. But Humfrey,
the stout old archer, muttered as he rubbed his well-
thumped pate, Good sooth, 't is, truly, the art
magic of Glendower himself. It payeth not to trifle
with malignant spirits. Give me to front an honest
foe, and not these hidden demons of the wind."
As if satisfied with its victory over a mortal
king, the fury of the storm abated, and that after-
noon Lionel entered the royal presence with the
announcement, "Tidings, my lord King; tidings
from the noble Prince of Wales! a courier waits
Bid him enter," said the King, and, all be-
spattered and dripping from his ride through the
tempest, the courier entered and, dropping on his
knee, presented the King a writing from the prince.
"At last said Henry, as he hastily scanned
the note, "a rift in these gloomy clouds. Break
we our camp, my lord Westmoreland, and back
* The marches :- Frontiers or boundaries of a country. The nobles who held fiefs or castles in such border lands were called the
to Hereford town. We do but spend our strength
to little use awaiting a wily foe in these flooded
plains. This billet tells me that Sir Harry Percy
and my lord of Worcester, with Our Son The
Prince, have cooped up the rebels in the Castle of
Conway, and that Glendower himself is in the
Snowden Hills. As for thee, young Sir Harlequin,"
he added, turning to Lionel, "if thou wouldst try
thy mettle in other ways than in tumbler's tricks
and in defiance of the wind, thou mayst go with
Sir Walter Blount to thy tutor, the Prince, and the
Welsh wars in the north."
Next day, the camp was broken up, and, in high
spirits, Lionel, with the small company of knights
and archers detached for service in the north, left
the southern marches for the camp of the prince.
It was the year of grace 1402. Henry of Lan-
caster, usurping the crown and power of the un-
fortunate King Richard II., ruled now as Henry
IV., "by the grace of God, King of England and
of France and Lord of Ireland." But uneasy
lies the head that wears a crown," and, king though
he was-" Most Excellent, Most Dread, and Most
Sovereign Lord," as his subjects addressed him-
he was lord and sovereign over a troubled and dis-
tracted realm. Scotland, thronging the Lowlands,
poured her bonnets and pikes across the northern
border; France, an ever-watchful enemy, menaced
the slender possessions in Calais and Aquitaine;
traitors at home plotted against the life of the
King; and the men of Wales, rallying to the stand-
ard of their countryman, Owen Glendower, who
styled himself the Prince of Wales, forced the
English to unequal and disadvantageous battle
among their hills and valleys. So the journey of
Lionel to the north was a careful and cautious one ;
and, constantly on their guard against ambushes,
surprises, and sudden assaults, the little band of
archers and men-at-arms among whom he rode
pushed their watchful way toward the Vale of Con-
way. They were just skirting the easterly base of
the Snowden Hills, where, four thousand feet above
them, the rugged mountain-peaks look down upon
the broad and beautiful Vale of Conway, when a
noise of crackling branches ahead startled the
wary archer, Wallys, and he said to Lionel:
"Look to thine arms, lad; there may be
danger here. But no," he added, as the "view
halloo" of the hunters rose in air, 't is but the
merry chase. Hold here, and let us see the sport."
Almost as he spoke, there burst from the thicket,
not a hundred yards away, a splendid red deer,
whose spreading antlers proclaimed him to be a
"stag of twelve or stag royal." Fast after him
dashed the excited hunters; but, leading them all,
spurred a sturdy young fellow of eager fifteen--
tall and slender, but quick and active in every
movement, as he yielded himself to the free action
of his horse and cheered on the hounds. The ex-
citement was contagious, and Lionel, spite of the
caution of his friend the archer, could not restrain
himself. His "view halloo" was shouted with
boyish impetuosity as, fast at the heels of the other
young hunter, he spurred his willing horse. But
now the deer turned to the right and made for a
distant thicket, and Lionel saw the young hunter
spring from his lagging steed, and, with a stout
cord reeled around his arm, dash after the stag
afoot, while hounds and hunters panted far behind.
It was a splendid race of boy and beast. The
lad's quick feet seemed scarcely to touch the
ground, every spring bringing him nearer and
nearer to his noble prey. There is a final spurt;
the coil of cord flies from the hunter's arm, as his
quick fling sends it straight in air; the noose settles
over the broad antlers of the buck; the youth draws
back with a sudden but steady jerk, and the defeated
deer drops to earth, a doomed and panting captive.
There is but one lad in all England can do
that," cried enthusiastic Lionel, as with a loud
huzza, he spurred toward the spot so as to be in
at the death."
Lend me thy knife, page," the boy hunter de-
manded, as Lionel leaped from his horse, mine
hath leaped from my belt into that pool there."
Flash gleamed the sharp steel in air; and,
kneeling on the body of the dying stag, Harry of
Monmouth, Prince of Wales, the fleetest and most
fearless of England's youthful hunters, looked up
into Lionel's admiring face.
Hey,-O he cried. "Sure, 't is Lionel Lang-
ley! Why, how far'st thou, lad, and how cam'st
thou here ? "
"I come, my lord," Lionel replied, "with Sir
Walter Blount's following of squires and archers,
whom his Majesty, the King, hath sent to thy
"Ye are right welcome all," said Prince Harry,
"and ye come in good stead, for sure we need
your aid. But wind this horn of mine, Lionel,
and call in the hunt." And as Lionel's notes
sounded loud and clear, the rest of the chase
galloped up, and soon the combined trains rode on
to the English camp in the Vale of Conway.
There, in the train of Prince Harry, Lionel
passed the winter and spring; while his young
leader, then scarce sixteen, led his hardy troops, a
miniature army of scarce three thousand men, up
and down the eastern marches of Wales, scouring
the country from Conway Castle to Harlech Hold,
and from the Irish Sea to Snowden and to Shrews-
bury gates. The battles fought were little more
than forays, skirmishes,-and the retaliations of fire
and sword, now in English fields and now on
472 HISTORIC BOYS. [APRIL,
Welsh borders; but it was a good "school of the him are fled Sir Herbert Tressell, and the squires
soldier," in which Lionel learned the art of war, and archers of my lord of Worcester's train."
and Harry of Monmouth bore himself right gal- Now, the Earl of Worcester was the "tutor" or
lantly. guardian of the Prince, a trusted noble of the house
But greater troubles were brewing, and braver of Percy, and appointed by the King to have the
deeds in store. On a fair July morning in the year oversight or guidance of young Harry; and his sud-
1403, Lionel, who now served the Prince as squire den flight from camp greatly surprised the Prince.
-.' i l .
ofyI, t is i l i d eI
m '' I '' '- I h .
K ii i:' --. __ -
N "' -n w m l or- -L. "d" T i ( "
i av il ion w f d.s.. .----- .-Ie an- --_ go'o ,
I- :,- -. ,I
"THE YOUTH DRAWS BACK WITH A SUDDEN BUT STEADY JERK."
of the body, entering his pavilion hastily, said, in My lord Prince," said Sir Walter Blount, enter-
much excitement: ing as hastily as had Lionel, here is a courier from
My lord, my lord, the Earl of Worcester has the worshipful constable of Chester, with secret
gone tidings that the Percies are in arms against my
Gone ?" echoed the Prince. "What dost lord the King."
thoumean? Gone? When -where -how?" "The Percies up, and my lord of Worcester
None know, my lord," Lionel replied. "This fled?" exclaimed the Prince. "This bodes no
morning his pavilion was found deserted, and with good for us. Quick, get thee to horse, Lionel.
Speed like the wind to Shrewsbury. Get thee fair
escort from my lord of Warwick, and then on to
the King at Burton." And in less than ten
minutes, Lionel was a-horse, bearing the Prince's
billet that told the doleful news of the new rebell-
ion, spurring fast to Shrewsbury and the King.
Before three days had passed, the whole great
plot was known, and men shook their heads in
dismay and doubt at the tidings that the great
houses of Percy and of Mortimer, rebelling against
the King for both real and fancied grievances, had
made a solemn league with the Welsh rebel, Owen
Glendower, to dethrone King Henry, whom the
Percies themselves had helped to the throne. A
fast-growing army, led by the brave Sir Harry
Percy,-whom men called Hotspur, from his mighty
valor and his impetuous temper,-and by the Earl
of Douglas, most valiant of the Scottish knights,
was even now marching upon Shrewsbury to raise
the standard of revolt.
"Hotspur a rebel? Worcester a traitor?"
exclaimed the King in amazement, as he read
Lionel's tidings. Whom may we trust if these
be false ? "
But Henry the Fourth of England was not one
to delay in action, nor to cry over spilled milk."
His first surprise over, he sent a fleet courier to
London announcing the rebellion to his council,
but bravely assuring them "for their consolation
that he was powerful enough to conquer all his
enemies." Then he gave orders to break the
camp at Burton and march on Shrewsbury di-
rect; and, early next morning, Lionel was spur-
ring back to his boy general, Prince Harry, with
orders from the Kihg to meet him at once with all
his following at Bridgenorth Castle.
So, down from the east marches of Wales to
Bridgenorth towers came Prince Harry speedily,
with his little army of trusty knights and squires,
stalwart archers and men-at-arms,- hardy fighters
all, trained to service in the forays of the rude
Welsh wars, in which, too, their gallant young
commander himself had learned coolness, caution,
strategy, and unshrinking valor--the chief attri-
butes of successful leadership.
Where Bridgenorth town stands upon the slop-
ing banks of Severn, "like to old Jerusalem for
pleasant situation," as the pilgrim travelers reported,
there rallied in those bright summer days of 1403
a hastily summoned army for the putting down
of the rebel Percies." With waving banners and
with gleaming lances, with the clank of heavy
armor and ponderous engines of war, with the
royal standard borne by Sir Walter Blount and
his squires, out through the "one mighty gate"
of Bridgenorth Castle passed the princely leaders,
marshaling their army of fourteen thousand men
across the broad plain of Salop toward the towers
and battlements of the beleaguered town of
The King himself led the right wing, and young
Harry of Monmouth, Prince of Wales, the left.
So rapidly did the royal captains move, that the
impetuous Hotspur, camped under the walls of the
stout old castle, only knew of their near approach
when, on the morning of July 20, he saw upon the
crest of a neighboring hill the waving banners of
King Henry's host. The gates of Shrewsbury
opened to the King, and across the walls of the
ancient town royalist and rebel faced each other,
armed for bloody fight.
Lionel's young heart beat high as he watched
the warlike preparations, and, glancing across to
where near Haughmond Abbey floated the rebel
standard, he found himself humming one of the
rough old war tunes he had learned in Wales:
0, we hope to do thee a gleeful thing
With a rope, a ladder, and eke a ring;
On a gallows high shalt thou swing full free-
And thus shall the ending of traitors be."
"Nay, nay, Lionel, be not so sure of that," said
the Prince, as he, too, caught up the spirited air.
"Who faces Hotspur and the Douglas, as must we,
will be wise not to talk rope and gallows till he
sees the end of the affair. But come to the base-
court. I '11 play thee a rare game of-hark,
though," he said, as a loud trumpet-peal sounded
beyond the walls, there goeth the rebel defiance
at the north gate. Come, attend me to the King's
quarters, Lionel." And hastening across the
inner court of the castle, the two lads entered the
great guard-room just as the warders ushered into
the King's presence the knights who, in accord-
ance with the laws of battle, bore to the King the
defiance of his enemies.
"Henry of Hereford and Lancaster!" said the
herald, flinging a steel gauntlet on the floor with
a ringing clash, there lieth my lord of Percy's
gage thus doth he defy thee to battle !"
The Prince, Harry, with the flush of excitement
on his fair young face, sprang from his father's
side and picked up the gage of battle. "This
shall be my duty," he said, and then the herald
read before the King the paper containing the
manifesto or defiance of the Percies.
In spirited articles the missive accused the King
of many wrongs and oppressions, each article clos-
ing with the sentence, "Wherefore, thou art for-
sworn and false," while the following hot and ring-
ing words concluded the curious paper- For the
which cause, we defy thee, thy fautores,* and com-
* Favorers, or abettors.
plices, as common traytoures and destroyers of the
realme and the invadours, oppressors, and con-
founders of the verie true and right heires to the
crown of England, which thynge we intended with
our hands to prove this daie, Almighty God help-
The King took the paper from the herald's hand
and simply said:
Withdraw, Sir Herald, and assure your lord
that we will reply to him with the sword, and
prove in battle his quarrel to be false and traitor-
ous and feigned."
And then the herald withdrew, courteously
escorted; but it is said that King Henry, saddened
at the thought of the valiant English blood that
must be shed, sent, soon after, gentle words and
offers of pardon to the Percies if they would return
to their allegiance-all of which the Earl of Wor-
cester, envious of the King, misreported to his
generous but hot-headed nephew, Sir Hairy Percy.
So wrong a message did the false Earl give, that
both Hotspur and the Douglas flamed with rage,
and without waiting for Owen Glendower's forces
and the expected reinforcements from the North,
gave orders for instant battle, thus hastening the
conflict before they were really ready. "The
more haste, the less speed is a strong old adage,
boys, that holds good both in peace and war, and
bitterly was it repented of on that "sad and sorry
field of Shrewsbury."
So, out through the north gate of Shrewsbury,
on a Friday afternoon, swept the army of the
King, fourteen thousand strong, and, back from the
Abbey foregate and the Severn's banks dropped
the Percies' host, thirteen thousand banded Eng-
lish, Scotch, and Welsh. In a space of open, roll-
ing country known as Hateley Field-fit name for
a place of battle between former friends--three
miles from Shrewsbury town, the rival armies
pitched their tents, drew their battle lines, and
waited for the dawn.
It is the morning of Saturday, the twenty-second
of July, 1403. Both camps are astir, and in the
gray light that precedes the dawn the preparation
for battle is made. The sun lights up the alder-
covered hills, the trumpet sounds to arms, the
standards sway, the burnished armor gleams and
rings as knights and squires fall into their ap-
pointed places; the cloth-yard shafts are fitted to
the archers' bows, and then, up from a sloping
field, sweet with the odor of the pea-blossoms that
cover it, there comes in loud defiance the well-
known war-cry of the Percies,- "Esperance, es-
ferance Percy, ho, a Percy !" and Hotspur with
his Northumbrian archers sweeps to the attack
amidst a terrible flight of arrows and of spears.
"Play up, sir trumpeter!" shouted Harry of
Monmouth, rising in his stirrups. Play up your
answering blast. Shake out our standard free.
Now, forward all! Death to traitors! St. George
-St. George for England "
St. George for England came the answer-
ing echo from King Henry's line; "Esferance,
Percy sounded again from the rebel ranks, and
" in a place called Bullfield," both armies closed
So furiously, the armies joined," runs the old
chronicle; "the arrows fell as fall the leaves on
the ground after a frosty night at the approach of
winter. There was no room for the arrows to
reach the ground; every one struck a mortal
man." The first attack was against the King's
own ranks. Hotspur, with his Northumbrian
arrows, and Douglas, with his Highland spears,
pressed hotly upon them, while Worcester's Chesh-
ire archers from a slope near by sent their whiz-
zing messengers straight into the King's lines.
Though answering valiantly, the terrible assault
was too severe for the King's men. They wavered,
staggered, swayed, and broke-a ringing cheer
went up from the enemy, when, just at the critical
moment, with an "indignant onset," Harry of
Monmouth dashed to his father's aid. His resist-
less rush changed the tide of battle, and the
King's line was saved.
A sorry record is the story of that fearful fight.
For three long hours the battle raged from Haugh-
mond Abbey on to Berwick Bridge, and ere the
noon of that bloody day, twelve thousand valiant
Englishmen fell on the fatal field. The great
historian Hume tells us that "We shall scarcely
find any battle in those ages where the shock was
more terrible and more constant."
The fire of passion and of fight spread even to
the youngest page and squire, and as Lionel
pressed close after the "gilded helmet and the
three-plumed crest" of his brilliant young Prince,
his face flamed with the excitement of the battle-
hour. Again and again he saw the King unhorsed
and fighting desperately for his crown and life;
again and again he saw the fiery Hotspur and
Douglas, the Scot, charge furiously on the King
they had sworn to kill. Backward and forward
the tide of battle rolls; now royalist, now rebel
seems the victor. Hark! What shout is that ?
"The King, the King is down!"
And where Hotspur and the Douglas fight
around the hillock now known as the '' King's
Croft," Lionel misses the golden crest, he misses
the royal banner of England i
Sir Walter Blount is killed! the standard is
lost!" is now the sorry cry.
But now the Prince and his hardy Welsh fight-
ers charge to the rescue, and Lionel gave a cry of
terror as he saw a whizzing arrow tear into the face
of his beloved Prince. Young Harry reeled with
his hurt, and Lionel with other gentlemen of the
guard caught him in their arms. There was con-
fusion and dismay.
The Prince is hurt !" cried Lionel, and almost
as an echo rose those other shouts:--
"The King is slain!"
Long live the Percy!"
"Back, to the rear, my lord !" pleaded Lionel,
as he wiped the blood from the fair young face of
"Back, back, my lord Prince. Back to my
tent," urged the Earl of Westmoreland, and
"Back, back, while there is yet safety," said the
other knights, as the tide of battle surged toward
the bleeding Prince.
Stand off! cried young Harry, springing to
his feet. Stand off, my lords Far be from
me such disgrace as that, like a poltroon, I
should stain my arms by flight. If the Prince
flies, who will wait to end the battle ? "
And just then another shout arose -a joyous,
Ho, the King lives the standard is safe St.
George for England!" And the brave young
Harry, turning to his guard, said:
"What, my lords? to be carried back before
the victory? Lead me, I implore you, to the very
face of the foe."
Then, as the royal standard waved once more
aloft, he burst with his followers into the thick of
the fight, his unyielding valor giving new strength
And now the end is near. An archer's arrow,
with unerring aim, pierces the valiant Hotspur,
and he falls dead upon the field.
SHarry Percy is dead Victory, victory St.
George and victory! rings the cry from thou-
sands of the loyal troops, and, like a whirlwind, a
panic of fear seizes the rebel ranks. Douglas is a
prisoner; the Earl of Worcester surrenders ; the
rout is general.
".Then fled thei that myte fle," says the chron-
icle, or, as Hall, another of the old chroniclers,
records, The Scots fled, the Welshmen ran, the
traitors were overcome; then neither woods hin-
dered, nor hills stopped the fearful hearts of them
that were vanquished."
So ended the "sad and sorry field of Shrews-
bury," a fitting prelude to that bloody era of strife
known as the Wars of the Roses, which, com-
mencing in the sad reign of the son of this boy
general, Harry of Monmouth, was to stain England
with the blood of Englishmen through fifty years.
And now, the dust and roar of battle die away,
and we find ourselves amidst the Christmas-
tide revels in royal Windsor, where, in one of
the lordly apartments, our friend Lionel, like a
right courtly young squire, is paying dutious atten-
tions to his liege lady, the fair Princess Philippa.
As we draw near the pair, we catch the words of the
Princess, now a mature and stately young damsel
of twelve, as she says to Lionel, who, gorgeous in
a suit of motley velvet, listens respectfully-
'"And let me tell thee, Master Lionel, that,
from all I can make of good Master Lucke's
tedious Latin letters, King Erik is a right noble
prince, and a husband meet and fit for a Princess
O, ho sits the wind in that quarter ? a gay
voice exclaims, and Prince Harry comes to his
sister's side. Well, here be I in a pretty mess.
Was I not prepared to deny in council, before
all the lords, this petition of King Erik for our Prin-
cess,-ay, and to back it up with my stout bowmen
from the marches ? Beshrew me, Sis, but since
when didst thou shift to so fair a taste for -what
was it? frozen turnips and salted beef? And-
how is the queen mother's appetite ? "
But with a dignified little shrug, the Princess dis-
dains her brother's banter, and the merry Prince
goes on to say:
Well, I must use my ready bows and lances
somewhere, and if not to right the wrongs of the
fair Philippa against this frosty and crusty par-
don me, your Highness, this right noble King
Erik of Denmark,-then against that other most
dread and sovereign lord, Owen, Prince of Wales,'
as he doth style himself. To-morrow will this
betrothal be signed; and then, Lionel, hey for the
southern marches and the hills and heaths of
So, amidst siege and skirmish and fierce assault
the winter passed away, and grew to spring again;
and so well and vigilantly did this boy leader defend
the borders of his principality against the forays of
Glendower's troops, that we find the gentry of the
county of Hereford petitioning the King to publicly
thank our dear and honored lord and Prince,
your son," for his defence and governance of
this your county of Hereford." And, out of all the
vigilance and worry, the dash and danger of this
exciting life, Harry of Monmouth was learning
those lessons of patience, fortitude, coolness, self-
denial and valor that enabled him, when barely
twenty-eight, to win the mighty fight at Agincourt,
and to gain the proud title of Henry the Victorious.
For war, despite its horrors and terrors, has ever
been a great and absorbing game, in which he who
is most skillful, most cautious, and most fearless,
makes the winning moves.
"Tidings, tidings, my lord Prince! came the
message from one hard-riding courserman, as his
foam-flecked steed dashed through the great gate
of the castle of Hereford. My lord of Warwick
hath met your Welsh rebels near the Red Castle by
Llyn Du, and hath routed them with much loss."
But a few days later, came another horseman, with
the words: Tidings, tidings, my lord Prince !
Sir William Newport hath been set upon at Craig
y Dorth by your rebels of Wales, 'with myty hand,'
sto nef T..
d T ot." Tat sty od figtr ws
at hand. "Fare we to Monmouth town, while many gallant gentlemen
't is ours, then, to succor him. Lionel, summon
at hand. "Fare we to Monmouth straight, my
lord," said the Prince. "Here is sorry news, but
we will right the day."
Very speedily the little army of the Prince was
on the move along the lovely valley of the Wye;
and, on the tenth of March, 1405, they were lodged
within the red walls of that same great castle of
Monmouth, in the which," says the old chronicle,
"it pleased God to give life to the noble King
Henry V, who of the same is called Harry of
Tidings, tidings, my lord Prince," came the
report of the scouts; "the false traitor, Glen-
I- (:* ,/
HE BATTLE OF SHREWSBURY.
dower, with your rebels of Glamorgan and Usk,
of Netherwent and Overwent, have lodged them-
selves, to the number of eight thousand, in your
town of Grosmont, scarce six miles away."
Eight thousand strong! and Prince Harry had
with him barely five thousand men. But with the
morning sun the order Banners advance was
given, and the fearless young general of seventeen
drew his little army to the smoking ruins of the
wasted town of Grosmont. Is it wise, my lord
Prince," cautioned Lord Talbot, to pit ourselves
bodily against so strong a power? They be eight
thousand strong and count us nearly two to one."
Very true, my lord," said the intrepid Prince,
but victory lieth not in a multitude of people,
but in the power of God. Let us help to prove it
here, and by the aid of Heaven and our good right
arms, may we this day win the unequal fight! "
"Amen said Lord Talbot, "none welcome
the day and duty more than I."
The armies of the rival Princes of Wales stood
face to face, and short, but stubborn and bloody,
was the conflict. Victory rested with the little army
of Prince Harry, and, before the sun went down,
Glendower and his routed forces were in full retreat.
Following up his victory with quick and deter-
mined action, the boy general hurried at the heels
of Glendower's broken ranks, and on Sunday, the
fifteenth of March, 1405, faced them again under
the old towers of the Castle of Usk. Swift and
sudden fell his attack. The Welsh ranks broke
before the fury of his onset, and, with over fif-
teen hundred lost in killed or prisoners, with his
brother Tudor slain and his son Gruffyd a captive
in the hands of the English, Owen Glendower fled
with the remnant of his defeated army into the
grim fastnesses of the Black Hills of Brecon.
It was a sad day for Wales, for it broke the
power and sway of their remarkable and patriotic
leader, Glendower, and made them, ere long, vas-
sals of the English crown. But the bells of Lon-
don rang loud and merrily when, three days after
the fight, a rapid courserman spurred through the
city gates, bearing to the council a copy of the
modest letter in which the young general an-
nounced his victory to his "most redoubted and
most sovereign lord and father," the King.
Lionel, close in attendance on his much-loved
leader, followed him through all the troubles and
triumphs of the Welsh wars; and followed him,
"well and bravely appareled," when, in May, 1406,
the King, with a brilliant company of lords and
ladies, gathered at the port of Lynn to bid farewell
to the young Princess Philippa, as she sailed with
the Danish ambassadors, "in great state," over the
sea, "to be joyned in wedlock" to King Erik of
And here we must leave our gallant young
Prince. A boy no longer, his story is now that of
a wise and vigorous young manhood, which, in
prince and king, bore out the promise of his boyish
days. Dying at thirty-five- still a young man -
he closed a career that stands on record as a notable
one in the annals of the world.
But when you come to read in Shakespeare's
matchless verse the plays of King Henry IV."
and King Henry V.," do not, in your delight
over his splendid word-pictures, permit yourself to
place too strong a belief in his portrait of young
"Prince Hal" and his scrapes and follies and wild
carousals with fat old Falstaff and his boon com-
panions. For the facts of history now prove the
great poet mistaken; and Prince Hal," though
full of life and spirit, fond of pleasure and mischief,
and, sometimes, of rough and thoughtless fun,
stands on record as a valiant, high-minded, clear-
hearted and conscientious lad. And when we
reflect," says one of his biographers, "to what a
high station he had been called whilst yet a boy;
with what important commissions he had been
intrusted; how much fortune seems to have done
to spoil him by pride and. vain-glory from his
earliest youth, this page of our national records
seems to set him high among the princes of the
world; not so much as an undaunted warrior
and triumphant hero, as the conqueror of himself,
the example of a chastened, modest spirit, of
filial reverence, and of a single mind bent on his
The conqueror of himself! It was this that
gave him grace to say, when crowned King of
England in Westminster, The first act of my
reign shall be to pardon all who have offended me;
and I pray God that if He foresees I am like to be
any other than a just and good king, He may be
pleased to take me from the world rather than seat
me on a throne to live a public calamity to my
country." It was this that gave him his magnifi-
cent courage at Agincourt, where, with barely six
thousand Englishmen, he faced and utterly routed
a French host of nearly sixty thousand men; it
was this that, in the midst of the gorgeous pageant
which welcomed him at London as the hero of Agin-
court, made him refuse to let his battle-bruised
helmet and his dinted armor be displayed as
trophies of his valor. It was this that kept him
brave, modest, and high-minded through all the
glories and successes of his short but eventful life,
that made him the idol of the people and one of
the most brilliant figures in the crowded pages of
It is not given to us, boys and girls, to be royal
in name, but we may be royal in nature, as was
Harry of Monmouth, the Boy General, the chiv-
alrous young English Prince.
HUSH the baby stands alone -
Hold your breath and watch her;
Now she takes a step-just one -
Wavers, stops,- quick, catch her!
Courage! Life's first step will cost:
Now again she's trying--
One, two, there she walks, almost,
Trembling, stumbling, crying.
Precious baby! up once more -
Tiny feet advancing,
Little arms stretched out before,
Bright eyes upward glancing,
Where mamma, with cheering smile,
To her darling beckons,
Softly coaxing baby, while
Her first steps she reckons:
One, two, three Oh she will walk
Now, before we know it;
Hear her sweet-voiced baby-talk,
Little bird, or poet!
Prattling, toddling, there she goes,
Stepping off so proudly-
Turning in her untaught toes,
Pleased,-then laughing loudly.
; ..._ : ?- -
First exploit of self-content;
Now she's growing bolder,
Strength and courage yet unspent,
One can hardly hold her -
She so presses to advance
In her baby-learning-
Pulls so Ah by what mischance
Is this overturning?
There lies baby on the floor,
Sprawling, rolling, screaming!
Are life's first attempts so poor?
Baby was but dreaming
When she felt so bold and strong;
Gladly now she's clinging
To the one whose soothing song
Back her smile is bringing.
Hurts are cured by mamma's kiss -
Brave again as ever,
See, the plucky little miss
Makes her best endeavor;
Walks right off-the darlingpet-
Rush now to caress her!
Come what will of first steps yet,
All good angels bless her!
BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD.
ONE of the first things learned by Susie and
Porter Hudson, on their arrival at the farm-house,
had been that the reason why Corry and Pen were
not attending school was because the teacher was ill.
And the very next morning after the picnic, word
came to the farm-houses, throughout the valley,
that the school had begun again.
Some little plans of Vosh's, in which his horse
and cutter had a part, were upset completely by
the teacher's recovery, but the consequences were
even more severe at Deacon Farnham's. Corry
and Pen were compelled to leave their cousins to
take care of themselves, every day, till after school
hours. But for Susie, with her two aunts to
care for her, the time passed pleasantly enough,
for she had a dozen kinds of knitting to learn, and
there were a good many books in the house.
As for Porter, he did not spend an hour in the
house that he could find a use for out-of-doors.
He went with the deacon to the cattle-yard and
the stables, and he learned more about horses, and
cows, and oxen, than he had supposed there was
On Sunday they all went to meeting at Benton
Village, and it seemed to Susie Hudson that all she
heard, excepting what the minister said in his ser-
mon, was about the donation."
Tell me just what it is, Pen," she said to
her cousin, in the sleigh, on their way home.
I 've heard about a donation, often enough, but
I never saw one."
Why, don't you know?" exclaimed Pen, in
great surprise. "Why, a donation is -a donation.
That 's all. It's a kind of a picnic at the minister's
house. Everybody comes, and they all bring
something for him and his wife."
Shall we all go?"
"Of course we will."
Susie learned a great deal more about it during
the next two days. For Mrs. Farnham and Aunt
Judith seemed to be cooking for that donation "
as if for a famine.
"I've done my best," said Mrs. Stebbins to
Vosh, while she was putting her contribution into
his cutter for transportation ; "but Sarah Farnham
and Judith can beat me. Their oven will hold three
times as much as mine will."
An old-fashioned, up-country donation party "
can not be altogether an evening affair. Some of
the good people have far to come and go, and some
of them have heavy loads to bring. So they gen-
erally begin to assemble before the middle of the
Susie had seen the minister's house several
times. It stood in the edge of the village, with an
immense barn behind it, and it looked almost like
another large barn, painted very white, and with
ever so many windows.
The crowd that came on the appointed day
would have been very uncomfortable in a small
When the sleigh-load from Deacon Farnham's
got there, there was already a long line of teams
hitched at the road-side, in front of the house, in
addition to many others that had found shed and
stable accommodations in the vicinity.
As for Elder Evans's own barn,- hay, straw, and
provender of all sorts, formed a regular part of his
annual donation." Load after load had come in
and had been stowed away, after a fashion that spoke
well for either the elder's popularity or the success
of the hay crop.
There was no intention of letting the good man
freeze to death, either, in a country where wood
was to be had almost for the chopping. His wood-
pile was a sight to see, as early as an hour before
supper-time, and everybody knew there was more
wood to come.
Corry conducted Porter through the house.
The sitting-room, back of the parlor, was a large
one, but it was almost filled with tables, of all
sorts and sizes, and these were covered with a feast
of such liberal abundance that Porter exclaimed
in astonishment at it.
Corry did not stop here, however, but led his
cousin into the kitchen, and an odd place it was.
More than a dozen busy ladies were trying to
get at the cook stove, all at the same time, and
half as many more were helping Vosh Stebbins
"keep track of things," as the parcels were
handed in at the side door and stowed about in all
That makes four bushels of onions," Port
heard Vosh say, as he and Corry entered the
room. They 're wholesome -but then "
Only one barrel of flour," said a tall woman,
standing near him. "But there are ten bushels
Three bags of meal and twenty sacks of corn.
Fifteen bushels of turnips. Twenty of potatoes.
One dressed pig. A "side" of beef. Two dozen
Sam Jones has just driven in with another load
"And Mr. Beans, the miller at Cobbleville, has
sent more buckwheat flour than they could use if
they made up their minds to live on flap-jacks only."
"Five muskrat skins."
"Two kegs of butter."
Hold," said Vosh, till I get down the gro-
ceries. What '11 he do with so many tallow dips !
And here come more dried apples and doughnuts!"
It was indeed a remarkable collection, and
Porter began to understand how an up-country
minister got his supplies.
Port," said Corry, a little while after that,
"let 's go for our supper. We want to be ready
for the fun."
What will that be ? asked Port.
Oh, you '11 see," was the reply.
Susie had been making a dreadful mistake, at
that very moment; for she had asked old Mrs.
Jordan, the minister's mother-in-law, if they ever
had any dancing at donation parties. She told
Port, afterward, that the old lady looked at her
with an expression of horror, and said:
Dancing, child? Sakes alive "
The house was swarming with young people as
well as old, and the leader of the Benton church
choir had great difficulty in getting them all into
proper mood for singing.
By the time the hymns were concluded, Vosh
Stebbins had returned from the kitchen, with his
list completed and ready for the minister, and Port
heard him say something to another young man,
older than himself, but no taller, about those
Susie Hudson had never heard of one-half the
games that followed the charades. There were
forfeits of several kinds, anagrams," and var-
ious indoor sports, and finally the parlor was given
up to a royal game of blind-man's-buff.
It was grand fun for the young people, and Susie
enjoyed it exceedingly. But already the pleasant
gathering at the minister's house began to break
up. Some of the families who had far to go had
already set out for their homes, and it was well
understood that not even the village people and
near neighbors would stay later than ten o'clock.
For Elder Evans and his family would be tired
enough to be pleased at once more having their
house to themselves.
There was a great deal of merry talk in the big
Farnham sleigh all the way home. The older
people were in joyous spirits over the success of
the party, and Pen had something to say about
everybody she had seen.
THERE had been several light and fleecy snow-
storms since the arrival of the city cousins" at
the farm-house, but Aunt Judith had felt called
upon to remark, at frequent intervals:
"Winter nowadays is n't at all what it used to
We '11 have more snow yet," said the deacon,
More snow? replied Aunt Judith ; but don't
you remember how this place used to be snowed in
for days and days, so that you could n't get to the
village at all till the roads were cut out ?"
And in the afternoon of the very next day, which
happened to be Wednesday, a sort of haze was
seen creeping over the north-eastern sky. It
seemed to drift down from somewhere among the
mountains, and at three o'clock the snow began
"Boys," said the deacon, when they came home
from school, "we 're going to have a snow-fall this
time,-one of the real old-fashioned sort. We
must get out the shovels and keep the paths open."
It hardly seemed necessary to do any shoveling
yet, but the white flakes fell faster and faster, hour
after hour, and night came on earlier than usual.
Now, Port," said Corry, we '11 lay in all the
wood we '11 need for to-morrow and next day.
Everything will be snowed under."
Well, I 'd like to see that ? said Port.
So would Susie, and she and Pen watched the
storm from the sitting-room windows ; while even
Aunt Judith came and stood beside them and
There, now !-That's something like!"
And Mrs. Farnham remarked, in a tone of ex-
ultation: Did you ever see anything like that
in the city, Susie "
Never, Aunt Sarah. It 's the grandest snow-
storm I ever saw," said Susie.
There was very little wind as yet, and the flut-
tering flakes lay still where they fell.
"All the snow that could n't get down all these
weeks is coming now," said Pen. There 's ever
so much of it. I like snow."
More and more of it, and the men and boys
came in from the barns, after supper, as white as
so many polar bears, to stamp and laugh and be
brushed, till the color of their clothes could be
Then the wind began to rise, and the whole
family felt like gathering closely around the fire-
place, and the flames poured up the wide chimney
as if they were ready to fight the storm.
The boys cracked nuts and popped corn and
played checkers. The deacon read his newspaper.
Mrs. Farnham and Aunt Judith plied their knit-
ting. Susie showed Pen how to crochet a tidy.
It was very cozy and comfortable, but all the while
they could hear blast after blast, as they came
.: -- -- - : -
were whirling before the wind with a gustier sweep
than ever, when the farm-house people peered out
at them, next morning. Every shovel that could
be furnished with a pair of hands had to be at work
------ --..--.. i
.. ... ... -_k----- -' -" .., I.. ,
=4--- -- .'- 2- -_----- --L :-- 1-i;,._' ',j,
- ---mc .c -. -" W-_ 7- .
H P D SO W T IL
"THE 'RIPPER' MADE A SUDDEN DASH FORWARD, DOWN A STEEPER INCLINE."
howling around the house and hurled the snow
fiercely against the windows.
Is n't it grand! said Corry, at last.-" But
we '11 have some shoveling to do in the morning."
"Indeed, we will!" said Port, "and you '11
have a good time getting to school."
School? If this keeps on all night, there wont
be any school to-morrow, nor the next day, either."
It did keep on all night, and the blinding drifts
early, and the task before the boys had an almost
impossible look about it.
The cattle and sheep and horses and poultry all
had been carefully sheltered. There was a drift
nearly ten feet high between the house and the
pig-pen, and one still higher was piled up over the
gate leading into the barn-yard.
Before the two drifts could be conquered, it was
breakfast-time for human beings, and there was
never a morning when coffee and hot cakes seemed
more perfectly appropriate.
While the human workers were busy at the
breakfast-table, the snow and wind did not rest
at all, but kept right on, doing their best to restore
the damaged drifts.
Susie," said Port, "does n't this make you
think of Lapland? "
Yes, and of Greenland and Siberia, too."
The barn was reached during the day and all
the quadrupeds and bipeds were found, safe and
hungry, and were carefully fed.
"We shan't get into the woods again, very
soon," said Corry, and there was a thoughtful look
on Susie's face, as she replied: Why, we could
n't even get to Mrs. Stebbin's house, could we ? "
Well, Vosh is a worker," said the deacon.
"We can't get over there to-day, but we will to-
Far on into the night the great northern gusts
blew steadily, but toward morning, the storm de-
cided that it had done enough, and it began to
subside. Now and then, it again aroused itself as
if it still had a drift or two to finish, but at sun-
rise all the valley was still and calm and wonder-
This will be a working-day, I guess," said the
deacon, "but all the paths we make will stay made."
There was some comfort in that, for all those
they had made before had to be shoveled out again.
The deacon insisted on digging out every gate so
thoroughly that it would swing wide open, and the
paths were made wide and clean, walled high on
either side with tremendous banks of snow. But
the workers were weary before they could open
the front gates.
Susie was watching them from the window, and
Pen was in the front yard, vigorously punching a
snow-bank with a small shovel, when Aunt Judith
Sakes alive There's something a-stirring in
the road! What can it be? ,There's something
moving out there in the snow "
Susie almost held her breath, for there was
surely a commotion in the great drift, a few rods
beyond the gate. The boys saw it, too, and they
and the deacon and the hired man began to shout,
as if shouting would help a creature buried in a
"There he comes!-No, he 's under again "
He '11 be smothered "
Susie was watching the commotion in the snow
as she had never watched anything before, and just
then a fleecy head came out on this side of the
"Aunt Judith ? Aunt Sarah ?" she called sud-
denly. It 's Vosh Stebbins "
"Hurrah, boys!" There was nothing at all
doleful in that ringing shout which Vosh sent to-
ward the house, the moment he got the snow out
of his mouth. Have you any snow here at your
house? We have more than we want. We '11 let
you have loads of it, for nothing."
Come on, Vosh," said the deacon; come on
in and warm yourself."
Both the boys were brushing the snow from him
as soon as he got to the gate, and all the women
folk went to the door to welcome him. Aunt
Judith talked as fast as his own mother could have
spoken, and insisted on his sitting down before the
fire-place while she brought him a cup of coffee
and a glass of currant-wine, and a piece of pie,
and then she said she would make him some
"Now, Mrs. Farnham," said Vosh, I'm not
damaged at all."
And your mother ? "
Never was better, but she was worried about
you, and I said I 'd come over and see. Susie,
did you know it had been snowing a little, out-of-
doors ? "
"How did you ever get through?" answered
that young lady.
I just burrowed, most of the way, like a wood-
chuck," said Vosh.
"You can't go back by the same hole," chuckled
I can if it 's there. But I must n't stay long.
Mother '11 be afraid I'm lost in the drift."
And after a few minutes of merry talk, they all
gathered at the front gate to see him plunge in again.
"He '11 get through," said the deacon; "there 's
the making of a man in Vosh."
They were all tired enough to go to bed early;
but the first rays of daylight, next morning, saw
them all rushing out again. Port felt a little stiff
and sore, but he determined to do his part at road-
Just after breakfast, the wide gate was swung
open, and the deacon's hired man came down the
lane, driving the black team at a sharp trot, with
the wood-sleigh behind them.
Faster,-faster,-through the gate and out into
the snow, with a chorus of shouts to urge them on.
There was work for men and boys, as well as
horses, and the snow-shovels were plied rapidly
behind the plunging team. Porter Hudson quickly
understood that a great length of road could be
opened in that way, if all the farmers turned out
to do it. And public opinion would have gone
pretty sharply against any man who shirked his
share of this important work.
They were now pushing their way toward the
village, and already could catch glimpses of other
" gangs," as Vosh called them, here and there
down the road. In some places, where the snow
was not so deep, they made "turn-outs" wide
enough for loaded sleighs to pass each other.
When Tuesday night came, "the roads were
open"; and the severe frost of that night was fol-
lowed by a crisp and bracing morning, with a
crust over the great snow-fall strong enough to
bear the weight of a man almost anywhere.
Hurrah !" shouted Corry, as he climbed a
drift and walked away toward the open field be-
yond, we '11 have some fun now."
Boys," shouted Vosh, from the front gate, "the
millpond was flooded yesterday, and it's frozen over
now. There are acres and acres of the best skating
you ever heard of. Smooth as a pane of glass."
There was a shout then that brought Aunt
Judith and Susie to the window, and Porter was
saying to himself:
"Well, I am glad we brought along our skates,
after all. There '11 be a chance to use them."
VOSH STEBBINS came home from school very
early that afternoon, and his "chores" were at-
tended to in a great hurry.
After that, his mother's mind was stirred to the
curiosity point by an unusual amount of hammer-
ing out in the barn. He was a mechanical genius,
and he had more than once astonished her by the
results of his hammering. When, however, she
asked him what he was up to, all she could get from
him was :
"I tell you what, Mother, I 'm going to show
them a new wrinkle. Wait till morning. 'T is n't
quite ready yet."
The Benton boys and girls had not learned to
say coasting." They all called it sliding down
hill"; but the country they lived in had been
planned expressly for this sport.
Not more than a mile east of Deacon Farnham's,
the land sloped down gently, for more than a mile,
to the very edge of the village, and on to the
borders of the little river and the mill pond. Of
course, all that slope was not in one field ; but all
the low and broken fences were now snowed under,
and it was easy to take the top rails from the two or
three high fences, so as to leave wide gaps. With
very little trouble, therefore, the boys prepared for
their coasting-ground a clear, slippery descent.
The hollows were all drifted full, and there was a
good road on one side by which to ascend the hill.
All this had been duly explained to Susie and Port
by Corry, and their great affliction seemed to be
that they only had one sled among them.
Next morning, after breakfast, they all crowded
to the door, as Corry called out:
Hullo, Vosh. Going to slide down hill in a
cutter ? "
There he was at the gate,-sorrel colt, sleigh, red
blanket, bells, and all, and dragging behind the
sleigh an odd-looking vehicle.
In a cutter? No; but you would n't have the
girls walk up hill after every slide, would you ?
Just take a look at my sled back there "
"Why, Vosh," said Corry, it's your old pair
of bobs, with a box rigged on them. What's that
in front ? "
That's my rudder. That steers it. The
hind bob must follow the front one. Can't help it,
if it tries,"
Pen and Susie were off like a flash to get ready.
The whole country looked icy, and glittered
beautifully white in the clear frosty sunshine as
they set off. When they reached the coasting-
ground, they found it in perfect condition, and a
score of sleds, with twice as many boys, were
already shooting down it. The descent of that
long slope was something to wonder at, but the
climbing back again was another thing altogether.
It was easy enough for Vosh, however, to make a
bargain with one of his boy friends to do his driving
for him, and to have the cutter ready for them at
the bottom of the hill.
They were on the very upper level now. Vosh
helped the girls out of the cutter, and at once
started it off, telling the driver:
Go right on into Benton. That's where we 're
The pair of bobs had been the running-gear
of a small wood-sleigh, built for one horse to pull
around among the woods. They were light, but
strong, and the "box" was well supplied with
blankets. When the girls were in it, and the gay
red spread from the cutter was thrown in front of
them, the "ripper," as the boys called it, put on
quite a holiday appearance.
We're going, Susie," exclaimed Pen. Hold
your breath !-we 're going "
They were starting, sure enough, and Susie felt
that she was turning a little pale; but they moved
slowly at first, for the grade was very slight at the
spot where, they were.
Now, girls cried Vosh.
The "ripper made a sudden dash forward, down
asteeper incline. Faster, faster,-and there was no
need to tell the young lady passengers to hold
their breath. That seemed the most natural
thing to do.
There never was a more slippery crust, and the
" ripper" almost seemed to know it.
Easter! Faster! Shooting down the steep
slopes, and spinning across the level reaches, and
all the while there was Vosh Stebbins, bracing him-
self firmly as he clung to the arms of his "rudder."
Itwaswell he could steer so perfectly, for the gaps
in the fences were none too wide, after all,- and ifhe
and his cargo should happen to miss one of these,
and be dashed against a fence It was altogether
too dreadful to think of; but, luckily, there was no
time to think of it.
The cargo had great confidence in their en-
gineer and pilot," as Port had called him before
starting, and their faith even increased after they
shot through the first gap.
The wind whistled by their ears. The country
on either side was but a streak of white. Nobody
could guess how fast they were going now.
There 's the village," gasped Port.
The river whispered Pen.
Oh, Vosh "-- began Susie, as they shot into
what she saw was a road lined with streaks of
houses and fences.
Before she could think of another word, they
were out on the ice of the little stream, and a skill-
ful twist of the rudder sent them down it, instead
of across. In a moment more, they were slipping
smoothly along over the wind-swept surface of the
frozen mill pond, and the "ripper" had lost so
much of its impetus that there was no difficulty in
bringing it to a stand-still.
"There," said Vosh, as he held out his hand to
help Susie alight, that's the longest slide down
hill that anybody ever took in Benton Valley.
Nobody '11 beat that in a hurry."
I don't think they will," she said, and Pen
"We're not scared a bit, Vosh. We'll agree
to make the same trip again, if you say so ? "
That was what the sorrel colt was coming down
the road for, and they were speedily on their way up
the hill, in the swift sleigh, -more envied than ever.
And it was not until dinner-time that Vosh drove
his passengers back to the farm-house.
VOSH STEBBINS came over to the farm-house
after supper, and he met Deacon Farnham at the
gate. There was nothing unaccountable in that;
but the boys heard him say, just as he was follow-
ing the deacon into the house :
No, we wont need any snow-shoes. But I '11
take mine along."
Port," said Corry, something 's up.
"Yes, Deacon; Sile Hathaway says the storm
has driven a whole herd down this way."
I 've known it happen so, more 'n once," was
the deacon's reply.
Port," whispered Corry, as if it were a secret,
"I know now. We're to have a deer-hunt on the
crust of the snow."
A minute later, Vosh was on the stoop with
them. Then he was in the house. Then the
whole affair burst out like a sudden storm.
Deacon Farnham did not say much, but there
was a flush on his face and a light in his eyes that
made him look ten years younger. Vosh went home
early, but it was all arranged before he left the house.
The Saturday morning breakfast was eaten be-
fore daylight, and it was hardly over before they
heard Vosh at the door.
There was not much time to talk, so ready was
everything and everybody; but it did seem to Port
as if Vosh Stebbins's hand-sled, long as it was, was
a small vehicle for bringing home all the deer
they were to kill.
"The lunch-basket and the snow-shoes half fill
it now," he said to himself.
Vosh had secured for that day's work the services
of an experienced dog, one, moreover, that
seemed to know him and to be disposed to obey
his orders, but that paid small attention to the
advances of any other person.
"Is Jack a deer-hound? asked Port.
Not quite," said Vosh. He's only a half-
breed, but he 's run down a good many deer.
He knows all about it."
Jack was a tall, strong, long-legged animal, with
lop ears and a sulky face, but there was much
more of the "hunter in his appearance than in
that of old Ponto. His conduct was also more
business-like, for Ponto had slid all the way
to the bottom of several deep hollows before he
learned the wisdom of plodding along with the
rest instead of searching the woods for rabbits.
"Rabbits!" the very mention of those little
animals made the boys look at each other, as if
to ask: Did you ever hunt anything so small as a
The snow in the woods was deep, but there were
few drifts, and the crust was hard except close
to the trunks of the trees and under the heavier
pines and hemlocks. Walking was easy, and they
pushed straight on through the forest.
They were three miles from the farm-house
before they saw any game. Off, then, went the
dogs, and the boys were taken a little by surprise
when the deacon said:
Vosh, you'd better stay here, while Corry and
Port walk off to the right there, about thirty or
forty rods. I'11 strike to the left, as far as the edge
of the big ravine. If they 've really started a deer,
he may come along there."
Away he went and away went the boys. Porter
Hudson was hardly able to speak, so exciting was
the suspense; but, in a moment more, he heard
Jack's bark coming nearer and nearer, ahead of
him. Almost at the same moment he heard the
crack of his uncle's rifle. He saw Corry spring to
his feet, while Vosh Stebbins darted away to the
left, as if he thought he might be needed there.
"What can it be? I don't see a single thing.
No-yes-there he goes! Straight for Corry.
Why does n't Vosh stop ? "
The deer in sight was a fine buck, with antlers
which afterward proved it to be two years old,
and it was easier for Corry to hit it "on the
run" than to hit a white rabbit. He fired both
barrels, too, and he shouted to Port; but there
was no glory to be won by the city boy this time.
Corry had aimed too well and the buck had been
too near, and it was hardly necessary for the dogs
to pull down their game.
Corry, hear that! said Port. It 's Vosh's
gun. What's the matter? "
"There goes his second barrel. Run! Your
gun's loaded," replied his cousin.
It was "all in a minute," and Port darted away
with a strong impression that something strange
Corry must have thought so, too, for he loaded
his gun very rapidly.
Something strange had indeed happened.
Deacon Farnham had walked on rapidly toward
the deep ravine," after leaving the boys. He
had known that forest ever since he was a lad,
and had killed more than one deer in that vicinity.
-He had not gone far, keeping his eyes sharply
about him, when he suddenly stopped short and
raised his rifle. It looked as if he were aiming
at a clump of sumach bushes, and Port, or
even Corry, would probably have said they saw
nothing there. Vosh, perhaps, or any hunter of
more experience, would have said:
"See its antlers Just above the thick bush!
It's gazing, now. It '11 be off in a jiffy."
The deacon saw those antlers, and could judge
fairly well of the body below them. He could
not correctly determine its exact position, how-
ever, and so, instead of hitting the deer in the
chest or side, the bullet grazed its shoulder and
struck its right hip. And then, the magnificent
buck could not run at all; but he could still fight,
desperately. There was danger in the sharp and
branching horns, as Deacon Farnham discovered
when he so rashly plunged in among the bushes.
Danger from a deer ?
Yes, indeed. Danger of being gored by those
great natural weapons. Instead of being able to use
his hunting-knife, the deacon found himself dodg-
ing actively behind trees and fending off with his
empty rifle the furious charges of his furious as-
sailant, until Vosh came to his assistance.
It was well that Vosh came when he did, and that
his gun was loaded. Two charges of buckshot were
fired at very short range, and the deacon was safe.
You were just in time, Vosh," he said, panting
I 'm glad I was said Vosh, earnestly.
Port came running up just then, and he was all
eyes and ears, although his help was not needed.
"It 's a grand one! And we've another over
Have you?" exclaimed his uncle. Vosh, will
you take charge of it? I 'll see to this one as soon
as I can; and I think we 've all the game we want
for one day."
Why, uncle, it's only noon. We might hunt
some more, might n't we ? said Port.
Well, we might; but it 'll be late enough when
we get home. We 've work before us, Port, and
it's time we had some lunch, anyhow."
They were all quite ready for that, but the boys
began to discover, soon afterward, that deer-
hunting was not all play. It was easy enough to
cut down branches of trees and lay them on the
sled and fasten them together. Then it was not
a terrible lift for all four of them to raise a dead
deer and lay it on the branches. The tug of war
came afterward, as they hauled that sled home-
ward over the crust. Several times it broke
through, and then there was no end of floundering
in the snow and tugging and lifting before they'
again got it a-going. Then, once it broke from
them, and slid away down a deep, steep hollow,
landing its cargo, all in a heap, at the bottom.
There was no use for the snow-shoes, but they had
to be fished for in the snow, when the sled broke
through. Altogether, it was a weary journey, but
they all worked at it, until at last they hauled the
sled out into the half-made road to Mink Lake.
After that they got on better, but they were thor-
oughly fatigued hunters when they reached the
farm-house, and the day was gone.
There were eager faces at the windows, that
of Mrs. Stebbins among them. There were shrill
shouts from Pen on the front stoop. Then there
was an excited little gathering at the kitchen door,
when the sled was drawn in front of it.
Pen clapped her little hands in a gale of excite-
ment, but Susie exclaimed:
Poor things !"
She could not help feeling sorry for those two
beautiful creatures on the sled.
"'They look so innocent-so helpless," she'said.
But her uncle replied :
Innocent ? Helpless ? That big buck was
near to making an end of me when Vosh came up
and shot it. It 's your game, Mrs. Stebbins."
He forgot to mention that the fight with the
buck was all his own fault, for he began it; but
there was venison steak in abundance at table, and
Corry was justified in declaring :
"It's great sport to hunt deer, but I 'd rather
eat venison than drag it home."
CORRY FARNHAM and Vosh Stebbins had each
of them a great deal to do, both at morning and
evening, and had thus far been compelled to neg-
lect the tempting attractions of the mill pond and
the river. Their Saturdays had been otherwise
employed, ever since the thaw and freeze"; and
that splendid skating-ground had lain neglected.
The majority of the village boys, old enough to
own skates, had been almost as busy, and the
glittering surface of the ice was as smooth as ever.
Porter Hudson had looked at it more than once,
and on the day after the grand deer-hunt he said to
Susie : Don't let's say a word about it to any one.
Put your skates under your shawl and take a walk
to the village with me. I '11 wrap mine up like a
"Why, Port, what for? "
Don't you see, Susie, we '11 be out there with
the rest one of these days; and we have n't been
on our skates since we were at the rink last winter.
I 'm not sure I could stand on mine."
"Nor I. We must practice. I'11 be ready soon !"
So it came to pass that day, that while Pen and
her brother and Vosh were safely shut up in the
Benton school-house, their two friends were on the
river, quite a distance above the pond.
We can skate as well as ever. Don't let any-
body know, and we '11 surprise 'em," said Port.
Vosh had had a sort of surprise in his own mind,
and it came out, only a few evenings later, when
Aunt Judith was compelled to exclaim, at the
Skating party on the ice? Who ever heard
tell of such a thing After dark, too "
"Yes, ma'am," said Corry, gravely, the skat-
ing 's to be done on the ice. All over it. There '11
be the biggest bonfires you ever saw, and there '11
be good moonlight, too."
There was a little discussion of the matter, of
course, but the deacon settled it.
I used to think there was n't anything much
better than a skate by moonlight. It wont pay to
hitch up a team, but I '11 walk over with you.
Let's all go."
After supper, Port whispered to Susie:
"Hide your skates. I '11 let 'em see mine.
They don't know I can stand on 'em."
Corry was right about the moon, and the even-
ing was wonderfully clear and bright.
There were a number of merry skaters already
at work, and there were groups of spectators, here
and there; for the fires made the scene well worth
coming to look at.
Susie," said Vosh, how I do wish you knew
how to skate "
Let me see how you can do it. I'll look on a
She felt almost conscience-smitten about her in-
tended fun; but she kept her secret until all the
boys had strapped on their skates, and she heard
Vosh say to Port:
Can you get up alone ? Shall I help you ?"
No, I guess not. Can you cut a figure eight ?
This way ? Come on, Vosh ; catch me if you can "
"Corry," exclaimed Pen, Port can skate
See him go "
"I declare," remarked the deacon, "so he
So can Vosh," said Mrs. Stebbins. And no
city boy is going to beat him, either."
Vosh's effort to find out if that were true had
already carried him so far away, that, the moment
Corry followed him, Susie felt safe to say :
Now, Uncle Joshua, if you will help me buckle
my skates -- "
She was in such a fever to get them on, that she
hardly heard the storm of remarks from Mrs.
Stebbins and Aunt Judith; but the deacon seemed
to take an understanding interest in the matter,
and he was already on his knees on the ice, hasten-
ing to fasten her skates.
Can you really skate, Susie ? he asked.
I '11 show you in a minute. Please do hurry,
before either-of them suspect anything "
"0 Susie," said Pen, mournfully, I do wish
I could! "
You must learn some day -" said Susie.
"Susie," exclaimed Aunt Judith, "wait for some-
body to go with you. You might tumble down."
"No, no Go now, Susie," said her uncle. Off
with you "
She was really a very graceful skater, and her
aunts looked on with admiration as well as a good
deal of astonishment, while she made a few whirls
near by to assure herself that the skates were on
rightly. Then away she glided over the ice, and
the first intimation of her skill that Vosh Stebbins
had, was when the form of a young lady fluttered
swiftly past, between him and the glare of the great
central bonfire. Her face was turned the other
way, and he looked back at her, exclaiming:
"What a fine skater! Who can she be ? "
I know," said Port Hudson, close at hand, and
waiting for his share of the joke. She 's a girl
from the city, who is spending the winter with
.some relatives of mine. Come on, I 'm going
after her. Think you can keep up? Come on,
Away went Porter, just as his friend felt a great
hot flush come into his face, and dashed after
them, saying to himself: If I 'm not stupid!
Why, it 's Susie Hudson "
He felt as if his honor were at stake, and he
never skated so well as then. The fires on the
bank seemed to flit by him as he followed that
solitary girl skater around the glittering, icy reaches
of the mill pond. It looked so like a race that
almost everybody else paused to watch, and some
even cheered. Deacon Farnham himself shouted:
"Hurrah for Susie! "and Pen danced up and down.
It's just wonderful," said Aunt Judith, to
see her go off that way, the very first time."
I guess it is n't quite the first skating' she ever
did," said Mrs. Stebbins, "but Vosh '11 catch her.
See 'f he don't."
She was right. Just as Susie reached the head
of the pond and made a quick turn into the wind-
ing channel of the river, Vosh came swinging along
at her side, and for a little distance he did not
speak a word to her.
"Vosh," she said, at last, I wish you 'd teach
me to skate."
A ringing laugh was the only answer, for a mo-
ment, and then he remarked, innocently:
The ice is smoother up this way, but I must n't
let you get too far from the folks. You'll get too
tired, skating back again."
On they went, while all the people they had left
behind them, except their own, were inquiring of
one another the name of the young lady that had
so astonished them.
Oddly enough, the Benton girls had omitted
skating from their list of accomplishments, by a
kind of common consent; and Susie's bit of fun
had a surprise in it for others besides Vosh and
her aunts. It was quite likely she would have
imitators thereafter, for she made an unexpected
sensation that evening.
Port also had surprised Corry and the Benton
boys, although some of them were every way his
equals on the ice.
EVERY week, since Porter and Susie Hudson
had been at the farm-house, one or both of them
had had letters to read. Those with a city post-
mark were apt to be rather brief and business-like,
but the smaller envelopes which came from further
south were sure to have more in them.
Aunt Sarah exclaimed Susie, one afternoon,
as she finished reading one of these, Mother
says that she 's as well as ever. Now, spring is
Susie," said Aunt Judith, you sit right down
and write to her that the snow is three feet deep
on a level, and that she must n't dream of coming
north till May."
Spring '11 come sooner in the city, Aunt Judith.
And oh, I do so want to see her "
The city cousins had indeed had a good time of
it; but the sun was climbing higher in the sky, and
spring drew nearer daily. The increasing warmth
steadily settled the snow-drifts, in spite of the bit-
ter nights and the strength with which Winter kept
his hold upon all that north country.
At last the sap began to run," and Deacon
Farnham prepared for his sugar harvest among
the maple-trees on the south-lying hillside.
It was a sunny, snow-melting sort of a day, but
no real thaw had started yet, and the crust was
firm enough for them to walk on, from tree to tree,
while they were tapping those which the deacon
The boys had work enough to do, carrying from
the sleigh the wooden troughs, and placing them
where they would catch the steady drip, drip, drip,
from the sap-tubes.
"They '11 fill quickly," said the deacon. We
must bring up some kettles as soon as we can."
The hired man and Vosh were engaged upon
that part of the work already, and the girls went
back to see how it was done.
"It 's easy enough," said Pen, but she did not
try to lift one of the huge iron kettles.
Two strong, forked stakes were driven, about six
feet apart, and a very stout pole laid across them,
resting in the forks. A kettle was swung upon
this cross-pole, and then all was ready for building
a fire under the kettle.
Sugar-making, as Deacon Farnham conducted
it, was not a matter to be finished in a day; but
the weather continued favorable, and the deacon
had to hire an extra hand, and even then a good
deal of syrup was sent all the way to the house
to be made into sugar.
Within the next few days a thaw set in, and it
was hard work to finish up the sugaring. The
snow in the valley and on south-lying hill-sides
went first, and all the roads and hollows streamed
with torrents of water. The ice in the mill pond
cracked and lifted, day after day, till the flood
broke it up and carried it over the dam. The river
swelled till it burst its frosty fetters, and then for a
while there was danger of its bursting everything
else, and carrying bridges, dam and all, away down
stream. The freshet was a grand thing to look at,
and Vosh took the deacon's black team and drove
the whole household down to see it.
More letters came, and soon they were all from
Susie dear," said Aunt Sarah, mournfully,
"I s'pose we must get ready to say good-bye to
you before long."
That was what the letters meant, and Aunt
Judith had to say to Pen :
"It is n't time to cry. They are not gone
"I know they're not,-but they're going "
was Pen's disconsolate answer, as she began to
Mrs. Stebbins and Vosh heard the news before
night, and they both came over after tea. Vosh
was inclined to be silent for awhile, but at last he
ventured to ask: Susie, have you and Port had
a good time this winter ? "
"Delightful! We're both really grateful, too,
to you and your mother."
Sakes alive !" exclaimed Mrs. Stebbins, I
don't see what we 've done. It 's been a very
improving' time for Vosh, I 'm sure."
Port and Corry had a great deal to talk about,
and it was plain that the whole household were
sorry spring was coming, now that they realized
with what a complete breaking-up the winter
was to close.
It was only a few days later, in a pleasant home
in the city, that Susie and her brother were
earnestly recounting their experiences to a lady
and gentleman who seemed quite willing to listen.
"I know all about it, my dears; I was born
there," said the lady, at last.
And so was Father said Port.
"Well, Mother dear," exclaimed Susie, "is
there anything more delightful than winter in the
BY EMMA C. DOWD.
'" RICH man, poor man, beggar man', thief,
Doctor, lawyer, merchant, chief! "-
Thus sang Isabelle, Bessie, and Kate,
And each hoped the rich man would be her fate.
Button by button, till Belle's row was done;
How her face brightened The rich man had
And perhaps he '11 be even a prince," said she,
And we '11 live in a palace far over the sea!"
Poor Bessie, alas! had buttons four;
Though she counted again, she could make no
None under the collar, where one might hide: --
You '11 have to marry a thief!" they cried.
Merchant, chief," so counted Kate;
Was a swarthy savage to be her mate ?
But, no! -three buttons on either pocket,
And still another beneath her locket,
Four on one sleeve, and two on the other:
She 's to marry a doctor, as did her mother.
Oh, dear," sighed Kate; "but" (turning toward
That 's better than wedding a thief, I guess! "
But sorrowful Bess was nowhere seen;
Kate looked at Isabelle.- What could it mean ?
" She was vexed," said Belle, at the way it came
And she 's in the house, crying,- I have n't a
Then, hearing a step, they turned their eyes,
And there stood Bessie, to their surprise,
In her Sunday gown, of pale sky-blue,
With its buttons of silver, bright and new !
" I could n't marry a thief," said Bess,
" And so I went in to change my dress;
Just wait a minute,-I 'm almost through,-
I 'm to marry a rich man, as well as
you / "
" Dear me," cried Belle, in sudden grief,
" By my new dress I should marry a thief!
There 's a dozen buttons,- I know that well;
Oh how are we ever going to tell?"
" It 's all a humbug! said Kate, at last,
Her faith in the magic vanishing fast; -
" I tell you, a charm can never come true
That depends on an extra button or two "
x884.i HOOP SONG. 489
H OO So.n
1 B ar1 TrHill.
/o nound and round andTounid !
f f_ IlS e hnops, in liffe troops
U~ollinq0 in ne rau n-d.
u mble um b e-umb
er UonTid down,
The ilite Jirls Wih flyinj curlS
Srive hem IhTOuh the town.
TSANG TSAN AND THE MAN-EATER.
TSANG TSAN AND THE MAN-EATER.
BY JOHN R. CORYELL.
Now, my son," said Tsang Tsan's father, one
morning, "be sure you take the path across the
fields. It's the longest way, but it 's the safest."
Yes, sir," replied Tsang, dutifully.
And try not to fall asleep on the way," added
his eldest brother, gravely; for the cows would
be sure then to go by the grove, because that is
the way they usually go."
"I '11 keep awake," said Tsang, a little impa-
tiently, but respectfully, too, for in China the eldest
brother is held next to the parents in consideration.
Tsang was then lifted up and placed astride of
one of the cows, which at once started off at a
leisurely pace, followed by its fellows in straggling
but solemn order. There was a short struggle at
the path which turned toward the distant grove,
but after a few sharp blows with his switch, and a
few vigorous pulls at the thong fastened in the
nose-ring, Tsang came off victorious and made his
cow take the new path. The other cows, after a
few moments of surprised indecision, followed the
one which Tsang was riding.
Little Tsang's cows were not the comely, mild-
eyed creatures we see in our country; they were
water-buffalo cows, with very large bodies, small,
fierce, red eyes, long, semi-circular flat horns, and
almost hairless, dirty-gray colored hides. Each
had a ring in its nose and a tough thong was tied
to the ring and wound about the horns of all but
the cow ridden by Tsang. But for the nose-ring
TSANG TSAN AND THE MAN-EATER.
and thong the buffaloes would have been unman-
ageable, for they are as different in temper as in
looks from our gentle cows.
A very odd picture Tsang made as he sat
astride of the buffalo, for its back was so broad
that the little boy's legs were almost at right an-
gles with his body. But he could readily change
his position and sit with both feet on one side.
It required no great skill to ride the broad-backed,
slow-moving creature, and Tsang was so accus-
tomed to it that he gave no more thought to him-
self than if he had been in a chair. And practice
had made him expert at riding the buffaloes.
So secure was he, in fact, that he acted more as
if he were on the ground than on buffalo-back, and
This morning, however, he took measures to
drive away drowsiness, as he had no desire to be
carried through the grove where a most unwel-
come visitor was supposed to be lurking. It was
very seldom that tigers were seen in that portion
of China, but occasionally they had been seen,
and now, for the first time in Tsang's short life,
one had come into the neighborhood.
For two weeks it had spread terror through
the surrounding country, not merely by giving
occasional glimpses of its great striped body, but
by carrying off two children and a man; for, un-
fortunately, it was a man-eater, and would have
no other food when the human kind was available.
All of the terrible creature's depredations had been
*3. r -
"POOR TSANG HE COULD ONLY SCREAM." (See page 492.)
the elder brother's warning was not at all unnec- in or near the grove, and, therefore, for more than
essary, for it was no unusual thing for Tsang to a week that vicinity had been deserted by those
compensate himself for rising at daybreak by who lived there, and avoided by those who did not.
half-reclining upon the buffalo's back and tak- It was not strange then that Tsang's father
ing little naps, as often as the animal stood still. wished him to go by the longer but safer road. He
TSANG TSAN AND THE MAN-EATER.
would even have kept Tsang at home if he had
been able to afford it; but he was not, and he
needed all the money that could be earned by his
buffaloes in the work at farmer Yu's rice-fields,
where they helped in the plowing and irrigating.
Tsang, himself, was not particularly afraid of
the tiger. This was not because Tsang was brave,
but because he was a boy. He had not yet seen
the tiger, nor had any of his friends, and conse-
quently it was not very real to him; and, unless it
was real, how could he be afraid of it?
During the two hours' ride to farmer Yu's, Tsang
amused himself by practicing on a rude bamboo
flute, trying to catch some of the airs most familiar
to him, and succeeding so poorly that it was well
he had no other hearers than the dull buffaloes.
It was wonder that even they bore it as patiently
as they did, though Tsang was fully convinced
that he was making exceedingly sweet music.
Tsang stayed all day at Farmer Yu's; and while
the buffaloes were plodding wearily around the
short circle, pumping water from the canal into
the rice-fields so as to cover the seeds with water,
the farm-hands talked of nothing but the tiger,-
how monstrous and how fierce he was, and how a
whole company of soldiers had been ordered to
come and kill him.
One of the hands told how he had been near
when the man was seized and carried off by the
tiger, as a cat might carry off a mouse. He said
the tiger was as big as six dogs, was covered with
black and white stripes, and had a mouth so big
that it could hold-well, it could take in Tsang's
head. Whereupon little Tsang shuddered from
head to foot, and uneasily wished the man had
thought of some other way of describing the ter-
But the man, who saw what an effect he had
produced, went on adding to Tsang's discomfort
by telling of the tiger's long, white teeth and ter-
rible roar, until Tsang began to look forward with
dread to the approach of night, when he would be
obliged to go home again.
He never leaves the grove, does he ? faltered
At first he did n't," said the man who had
been describing the tiger; "but since everybody
has kept away from the grove for so long, he must
have become very hungry, and there 's no knowing
where he may be now."
Nonsense exclaimed Farmer Yu, sharply,
for he saw how frightened Tsang was. The tiger
wont leave the grove; so have no fear, my boy."
But Tsang did have fear, and tried to find some-
body who lived in the direction of his home, when,
after the evening meal, he gathered his buffaloes
together. Nobody was going his way, however,
and it was with very different feelings from those-
he had had in the morning that he mounted his.
slow-moving animal and started for home, by the-
road over which he had come.
There was very little probability that he would
fall asleep now, for his mind was full of visions.
of gaping mouths, bristling with gleaming white
teeth; and, do what he would, he could not help.
comparing the opening between the dreadful jaws.
with the size of his head. And behind every clump
of bushes he fancied he saw black and white stripes.
The further he got from Farmer Yu's, the more
real his fancies seemed to him, until, at last, he was
in such a tremor of fear that every note he blew
on his flute was a tremolo; for, as American boys.
keep up their courage in lonely places at dusk by
whistling, so Tsang was trying to cheer himself by
playing on his flute. A final wailing, quavering
note so worked upon his nerves, however, that with
a sob and a shudder he thrust the unlucky instru-
ment into his belt and clambered to his feet on the-
buffalo's back, the better to look about him; as if
he expected to find that the wail from his flute had,
in reality, come from the tiger, concealed not far
He could see nothing, however, and, after a few
moments, resumed his sitting posture. Never
before had Tsang examined the landscape so
carefully, or been so anxious to reach home. He
whipped and worried his buffalo to make it move
more quickly; but .the tired animal not only re-
fused to quicken its movements, but Tsang thought
it even went more slowly. Certainly, it resented
his goading, for it snorted savagely, and its little-
red eyes glowed redder still.
Tsang, however, cared nothing for its anger,.
nor for the fact that all the other cows seemed
to sympathize with it. He only thought of the
tiger, and its mouth, and teeth, and stripes, and he
raised his whip to strike again, when his eye was.
caught by a slight waving in a clump of tall grass,
a short distance ahead of him.
Here was something real, at last. Tsang stared
wildly at the spot, and held his breath from fear.
In his imagination he was already half devoured.
A half-choked scream broke from his lips, and he
frantically pulled at the thong to turn his buffalo
around. But the buffalo, too, had seen the wav-
ing grass, for she tossed her head with a half
snort, half bellow, and stood pawing the earth,
totally disregarding Tsang's efforts to turn her.
The other cows followed her example, and all had
their eyes fixed on the clump of grass.
Poor Tsang! He had nothing but voice left
now,- all his strength was gone,- and he could
only scream. That, however, he did, and right
lustily too, until the grass waved suddenly with.
"NOON, NOON!" 493
more violence and out from it shot the very striped
creature of Tsang's imagination. That spectacle
froze Tsang's voice, and left him with open mouth
and staring eyes.
Then there was a sudden rush, a cloud of dust,
and a horrible mingling of hoarse bellows and
loud, cat-like yells.
Where was Tsang? He did not know; he was
not on the buffalo-he was somewhere he was
waiting. His eyes were shut tight, but his ears
were open and rang with the terrible sounds
that filled the air. He thought that he felt the
hot breath of the tiger on his face-and then
.consciousness left him.
A little later, a small boy sat in the dust, staring
about him; a half dozen buffaloes were grazing in
the ditch, and a great bulk of yellow and black
stripes lay not far away.
The small boy was Tsang. He was not a bit
dead; he was not hurt, nor even scratched; and,
in fact, nothing at all was wrong with him. The
buffaloes were his, and the huge yellow and black
object was his-if he wanted it. It was what was
left of the tiger, which, in looking for one thing,
had found another. Instead of small boy it had
found buffalo, and the buffalo had treated the
tiger as the tiger had intended to treat the small
boy-had killed it.
Tsang was very much astonished to find himself
alive. How.it had all happened, he did not know.
He could not comprehend that his excited imagin-
ation had made him feel the breath of the tiger,
and therefore he was firmly convinced that he had
been in the very clutch of that creature.
That was the story he told at home, and that
was what they all believed. What was left of the
tiger-skin was saved, and the possession of it made
Tsang a hero for the rest of his life.
----..- I A I I. ;- l ., I -..,
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-/ L^/1,pnt Stop the CB UUBI s t 6,Fi's
S, -'. ;:'--. b b)rqvJnwpY his Yiys !"
-ssP.-- ----b stop the SWELLnd of it,
--- a -BRBY f6LL Lnb BUMp6 his c ie
fPtH FILL t1C CLOCKS PRE t6Ling of itt.
TAURUS the Bull attracts the Sun,
Who sitting on his horn,
In triumph rides, and swiftly on
His April course is borne.
Moon's Moon's Sun on
Age. Place. Mark.
5 Gemini 12. 4
6 12. 3
7 Cancer 12. 3
8 1" 12. 3
9 Leo 12. 2
10 12. 2
11 12. 2
12 Virgo 12. 2
13 12. 1
FULL 12. 1
15 Libra 12. 1
16 12. 1
17 Scorpio 12.
18 Ophiuch 12.
19 Sagitt. 12.
22 Capri. 11.59
23 Aqua. 11.59
26 Pisces 11.58
3 Taurus 11.57
4 Gemini 11.57
Holidays and Incidents.
April fool's Day.
Venus near the Pleiades.
( near Mars.
Plato d. 347 B. c.
Palm Sunday. [1770.
William Wordsworth b.
Adelina Patti b. 1843.
( near Spica. [America.
( eclipsed, visible in
Venus near Saturn.
Pres't Johnson inaug'd
Shakespeare b. 1564.
Ben. Franklin, d. 1790.
Abernethy d. 1831.
Battle of Lexington 1775.
Reginald Heber b. 1783.
Henry VII. of Eng. d.
Eclipse of Sun, not visible
C near Saturn (27th).
2d Sunday after Easter.
( near Venus.
U. S. Grant b. 1822.
C near Jupiter.
SPORT FOR THE MONTH.
FLYING, skying, ever trying
To get higher in the air;
Kites are playing, soaring, swaying
In the April sky so fair.
EVENING SKIES FOR YOUNG ASTRONOMERS.
(See Introduction, page 255, ST NICHOLAS for January.)*
APRIL i5th, 8.30 P.M.
VENUS, though far from being at her brightest, is now a brill-
iant object in the south-west. At the beginning of the month
notice how near she is to the Pleiades, and drawing near to SAT-
URN, whose position she passes on the i3th, but a little higher
up. SATURN and Aldebaran are now near each other, and
make a pretty picture up in the sky. You can now compare
their relative brightness; but if VENUS was at her brightest,
she would almost put the others out. SATURN is at one end
of the > of the Hyades. MARS has scarcely moved from the
place he occupied in March; he is just half-way between Reg-
ulus and the Twin Stars. He is now so far from the earth that
he is not nearly so bright as he was in February. JUPITER has
now started on his forward course to the eastward, and has
moved almost to the very spot he occupied in February, in line
with Castor and Pollux.
Orion and Canis Major (the Great Dog) are setting. Regu-
lus is exactly south at 23 minutes past 8 o'clock. Another star
is now visible in the south-east. It is Spica, the principal
star in the constellation Virgo or The Virgin, one of the con-
stellations of the Zodiac. In the east is the star Arcturus,
the next brightest in the northern heavens to Sirius. It is
the principal star in Bodtes, the Herdsman. Capella is now
in the west.
Let us now notice a few of the stars toward the north. We
suppose you know the North Star. Nearly overhead, a little
to the east, is the constellation of Ursa Major, the Great
Bear, of which the Dipper, formed by seven bright stars, is
the principal object. The two stars in the Dipper farthest
from the handle are called the Pointers, because they always
point toward the North Star. From the Dipper draw a line
through the North Star, and there in the Milky Way, low
down in the north, are five stars in the form of a :. These
are in the constellation Cassiofeia, often called the Lady in
her Chair. The two stars low down in the north-east are the
eyes of the constellation Draco (The Dragon).
THE CAT AND THE MOUSE.
Now is your time said Mrs. Mouse to the young Mice. The old Cat and the Kittens have gone for
a walk. Out of your holes, every one of you, and forage for your suppers. 'When the Cat's away the
Mice will play.' "
One greedy little Mouse lingered too long over the cheese, and the Cat coming in and seeing him,
crouched all ready for a spring. "Oh dear! said the little Mouse, "if I had remembered that Enough is as
good as a feast, this Cat would not be likely to make a supper of me." But just then a happy thought
struck the little Mouse. Oh, Mistress Puss! he cried, "your three little Kittens have lost their mittens! "
and as Puss looked around to box their ears, the little Mouse jumped into his hole, crying out 'APRIL FOOL! "
.*The names of planets are printed in canitals,-those of constellations in italics.
I1HE ST. nIGHOI AS ILMANAG
BY ROYAL AND BARR HILL.
*I -* _
'.,1 I I .,j ,i/^ "
WELL, I 've come," sobbed April; "but I have not one single flower for you, dear mother; I 've had bad
luck. Just think what an easy time Sister May has of it; she gets all my flowers these days. And as for
March, nothing is expected of him but to blow and bluster; while every one thinks I ought to come with
my hands full of flowers, and all sorts of little warm airs."
Oh never mind, April," said Mother Nature, kindly, I love you; you help me along amazingly, and
you are ever so much sweeter than July and August, who sometimes burn my poor garden dreadfully. I
don't like to have you unhappy, my dear, but I don't know what I should do without your tears."
Well," said April, brightening up suddenly and fairly smiling,." that makes me feel ever so much better,
and I will go right to work and see what I can do for the Arbutus."
WHEN SPRING BEGAN.
BY E. J. WHEELER.
WHILE roaming in the woods one day,
I asked the question, half in play,
Who can tell when Spring began?"
Straightway the answer came, "I can !"
And Robin Redbreast cocked his head.
"All right! Then pray proceed," I said.
SI must," said he, "express surprise
That any one with two good eyes,
Or even one, should fail to see
Spring's coming must depend on me.
When I come, then will come the Spring,
And that's the gist of the whole thing."
"Ho, ho! He, he! Well, I declare!"
A Squirrel chuckled, high in air.
" That is too droll-that you should bring,
Instead of being brought by, Spring.
I had n't meant to boast, but now
The cause of truth will not allow
My silence; so I '1 merely state
That Spring for me must always wait.
The thing admits not of a doubt:
Spring can't begin till I come out."
" Well, bless my stars! For pure conceit,"
Began the Brook, "you two do beat
All I have heard. As if 't were true
Spring never came at all till you
Were born, and can't come when you're dead!
I 'm sorry, sir, you 've been misled,
But I can set you right. I know
Spring comes when I begin to flow.
When my ice melts, and not till then,
Spring dares to venture forth again."
Whew!" sneered the Breeze, in high disdain,
SYou 're wrong as they are, it is plain.
When I.first came, not long ago,
I found you naught but ice and snow.
'T was my warm breath, you thankless thing,
That broke your bands and brought the Spring.
The Robins and the Squirrels all
Come only when they hear me call.
In fact, I may assert with truth
I am the Spring itself, in sooth.
Spring's here because I 'm here, and when
I leave, you '11 have no Spring again."
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"' 'JA K-IN -T iHE-UL' PiTI
AN APRIL STORY.
I 'LL tell you something quaint and queer
That came to pass in a by-gone year:
A dainty, beautiful, smiling maid-
Known to the ton as Miss Sunshade-
Was met one day by a big, green fellerr,"
All cotton and whalebone, by name Umbrella;
When he up, and said: "Ahem! I'm afraid
You're out of place here, my pretty maid!
It's going to rain, as you plainly see,
And soon there will be great call for me."
Then raising herself from a curtsy low,
She answered: "'T was shining a moment ago,
It really seems that you always try
To come along when it's bright and dry."
And you," he retorted, "'most every hour
Pop in, and ruin my prettiest shower."
Perhaps I do," said this pretty maid-
Known to the ton as Miss Sunshade-
Perhaps I do, for 1 like to be fair-
You'll admit," she cried, "that I have you there!"
It's my turn, now." he cried in jest,-
But his fun was cloudy and grim at best,-
That Sun of yours, you 'll admit, no doubt,
Is not to be found unless he is out."
"And you," she answered, with merry frown,
"To friend and foe must, at last, come down."
Well, so they parleyed, and teased, and chaffed;
While the weather, by turns, bemoaned and laughed;
Till at last the matter was settled aright
By each of them vowing no more to fight.
We 'll ever be friends," said Miss Sunshade
"Yes, ever," he echoed, "my pretty maid!"
And so, to this day, in April weather,
The two go tripping along together.
THE AGES OF ANIMALS.
HAS any one ever heard of a dog over fourteen
years of age? of a horse older than thirty years ?
or a mule older than fifty? or a sheep past nine
summers ? I am told that these respective ages are
sometimes passed, but I am not sure of it, and I
consequently ask for information based on personal
knowledge. Look into the matter for me, my
chicks. There are stories of elephants living to
be one hundred and fifty years old, and of whales
half the age of the venerable Methusaleh; but we
have to take these stories on faith, if at all. Jack
wishes to hear now from those who know.
MORE ABOUT "JERICHO ROSES."
CHICAGO, January 7, 1884.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: All of our home-circle were glad
to see the paper on "Jericho Roses" by Mr. Tait, in the Jan-
uary number of ST. NICHOLAS. Thinking that some of your little
friends may have been as much interested in reading it as were our
little ones, I want to tell them a few more things about the same
"Roses." In the autumn of 1876 we bought some of them of an
old Turk-doubtless the same of whom Mr. Tait purchased his.
After getting back to our home in Wisconsin, we tried the
"Roses" with the same result as mentioned in the article referred
to. One day we thought we would go still further, and see if there
was really life in them; so, selecting a very small specimen, and
putting it in a glass of water, we left it where it would get plenty of
air and sunshine. Judge of our delight when we went to it in a few
days, and found some tiny green leaves springing from the branches!
Nor is this all, for after a few weeks there appeared exquisite little
lavender blossoms. A great many people saw this, and the old
Turk would have reaped a rich harvest if he had been within reach
at the time.
The little rose is now as dry and twisted-looking as ever it was.
Some time I am going to try it again, to see if the life went from it
when the blossom faded.
Yours, ELVA D. OGDEN.
A LUCKY APRIL FOOL.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I am thirteen years old. Generally
speaking, I am not very fond of April-fool stories, nor April-fool
jokes, but I found one the other day, in Chambers's Book of Days,
that interested me very much. It claims to be historical; and if
you will allow me, I will repeatit to your crowd of little folk:
It is related that Francis, Duke of Lorraine, and his wife, being
in captivity at Nantes, effected their escape in consequence of the
attempt being made on the first of April. 'Disguised as peasants,
the one bearing a hod on his shoulder, the other carrying a basket of
rubbish at her back, they both, at an early hour of the day, passed
through the gates of the city. A woman, having a knowledge of
their personal appearance, ran to give notice to the sentry. "April
fool! cried the soldier; and all the guard, to a man, shouted out,
April fool! beginning with the sergeant in charge of the post.
The Governor, to whom the story was told as a jest, conceived
some suspicion, and ordered the matter to be investigated; but
it was too late, for the Duke and his wife were already well on
their way. The first of April had saved them.'"
You see, Mr. Jack, this could not be called a practical joke,
though I 've no doubt the soldiers felt rather foolish when they
learned that they had only caught themselves !
Your sincere admirer,
CLARA P. V.
A CLERGYMAN'S OPINION OF HORSES.
HERE is an extract from a letter sent by the Rev.
Henry Ward Beecher to a friend who had lost a
very fine horse:
Ought he not to have respect in death, especially as he has no
chance hereafter? But arewe so certain about that? Does not
moral justice require that there should be some green pasture-land
hereafter for good horses ? say old family horses that have brought
up a whole family of their master's children and never run away in
their lives ? Doctors' horses, that stand, unhitched, hours, day and
night, never gnawing the post or fence, while the work of intended
humanity goes on? Omnibus horses that are jerked and pulled,
licked and kicked, ground up by inches on hard, sliding pavements,
overloaded and abused? Horses that died for their country on the
field of battle, or wore out their constitutions in carrying noble gen-
erals through field and flood, without once flinching from the hard-
est duty ? Or my horse, my old Charley, the first horse that ever I
owned; of racing stock, large, raw-boned, too fiery for anybody's
driving but my own, and as docile to my voice as my child was ?
Your Jack says "yes," emphatically.
THE PRIZE DRAWINGS.-A LETTER FROM DEACON GREEN.
Mv DEAR BOYS AND GIRLS: Of all the more than nine hundred
original sketches and pictures that the ST. NICHOLAS boys and girls
have sent, in response to my request, made several weeks ago in this
magazine, not one has been without its point of interest, and not one
but has met friendly examination. To say that they are all good
would not be true; yet some are very, very good, and some, like
that little girl with the curl, are "horrid." But one and all show that
my young friends have tried, and I am satisfied. Of the great num-
ber sent in, a large proportion, though not quite worthy of winning
prizes, are too good to be carelessly thrown aside; and so their
young artists shall go on the Roll of Honor. This part of the busi-
neEs is easily settled. So also is the selection of thirty or forty of the
very "best" as deserving of special mention; hut the real hard
work-hard for the undersigned and hard for the awarding com-
mittee-has been to decide to which three out of these thirty or
forty best the three prizes can fairly be awarded.
Well, the vexed question is at last settled by the committee, after
a long session, which made me like them better than ever, because
they showed so much interest in my boys and girls, and so much
honest appreciation of each piece of work, and such discrimination
in regard to artistic excellence. Better than this, they actually, in
several instances, have discovered fresh talent" which, when rightly
developed, shall yet delight the picture-loving readers of ST.
NICHOLAS,-at all of which your friend Silas Green rejoiceth
Now for the awards, the justice of which will, it is hoped, be
apparent to each one of you, so far as your own individual efforts
IST PRIZE (Tcuwety Dollars) to Miss Elino-e C. V. Kraak,
2D PRIZE (Ten Dollars) to Miss Margaret Neilson Armstrong
and Miss Helen Maitland Armstrong, New York.
30 PRIZE (Five Dollars) to Miss Ada Bowley, Lee, Kent,
.. =------- --- -. -- ---. -.
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FIRST PRIZE DRAWING: "LITTLE BLACK SPINNER, SPIN ME SOME LACE." DRAWN BY MISS ELINORE C. V. KRAAK.-AGED 15.
A FAIRY'S ORDER.
BY M. F. BUTTS.
LITTLE black spinner, spin me some lace,
Fine as fine can be;
I am going to dine with the butterfly
And meet the bumble-bee.
You know how rich the humming-bird is-
He will be there, too;
I am going to wear a poppy-leaf dress
And diamonds of dew ;
SECOND PRIZE DRAWING: "CHRISTINA CHURNING." (DRAWN BY MISS HELEN
MAITLAND ARMSTRONG.-AGED 14.)
I J l00
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SECOND PRIZE DRAWING: "CHRISTINA CHURNING" (DRAWN BY MISS MARGARET
NEISON ARMSTRONG-AGED 6.)
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THE PRIZE DRAWINGS.
THIRD PRIZE DRAWING: "A SQUIRREL, A BIRD, AND A BOY." (SEE POEM, NEXT PAGE.) DRAWN BY MISS ADA BOWLEY.-AGED 14.
Little black spinner, spin away,
And do your very best,
That I may trim my poppy-leaf dress,
And look as well as the rest.
BY DORA READ GOODALE.
CREAK, creak beneath two hardened hands,
The yellow churn unflagging swings;
In plaided frock Christina stands
And rocks it as she sings.
The raftered ceiling, dark and low,
The jutting mantel, brown with smoke,
In seasoned timbers still can show
Their tough, unyielding oak.
In this wide-fronted chimney-place,
This brick-laid hearth that glows again,
I read the old New England race
Of rugged maids and men.
Christina, with her northern eyes,
Her flaxen braids, her yellow hood,
Can never claim the stubborn ties
Of that rebellious blood.
THE PRIZE DRAWINGS.
Not she, those stranger-looks confess,
That heavy-footed, peasant tread,
The woolen homespun of her dress,
The quilted skirt of red;
The grass-green ribbon, knotted thrice,
The cotton kerchief, bordered gay,
'That colored to her childish eyes
A Swedish gala day.
She sings-a voice untrained and young -
A simple measure, free as rain;
I follow through the foreign tongue
The little wild refrain.
Creak, creak beneath her hardened hands
The yellow churn unsteady swings;
Two tears drop singly where she stands,
Unbidden, as she sings.
A SQUIRREL, A BIRD, AND A BOY.
BY JOHN VANCE CHENEY.
A HAZEL-NUT hung in the top of a tree;
"' Ha," chirped Sir Squirrel, "that fellow for me !"
Then he whisked his tail high over his back,
And began to map out his plan of attack.
" Suppose, Mr. Frisky, you take it now,"
Piped Nut-hatch up from a handy bough;
Then he wiped his bill and wiggled his wing,
Ready the minute Sir Squirrel should spring.
As the two sat sharply eying each other,
Along came a boy. "Now, somehow a-nuther,"
Said he, "that nut has got to come down,
And, just for a change, take a trip to town."
Come down it did; while squirrel and bird
Sat so still not a hair or a feather stirred;
The kink was all out of Sir Frisky's tail,
And Nut-hatch's bill felt blunt as a nail.
'T is n't best to be too certain, you see,
About the plump nuts in the top of the tree.
Before giving the Roll of Honor, I must explain that, in determining the second prize, the committee found it quite impossible to
cast a unanimous vote. Indeed the votes, like the animals of the Ark, insisted upon coming two by two, until at last the divided body
-awarded a divided second prize to the two young sisters whose drawings are given on page 498.
ROLL OF HONOR.
Maud Humphrey--Mary W. Bonsall- Marion C. Harris-Ethel I. Brown-Nelson B. Greene- Phil. Sawyer- Newton B. Tark-
ington -Will V. S. Moody-Mary Mason Mitchell-Carrie Vasa Hayden-Gertrude Estabrooke-Nellie B. Manlove-Louise Maria
Mears Minnie E. Clement- Alison Allen- Fannie Camp- Evelyn L. Cox John R. Purdon Effie M. Reed- Rose Perkins-
Mary S. Bibbs-Kate Jordan-B. Rosenmeyer- Clara H. Tardy- Ada B. Champlin -Henry Martyn Saville-Ernest C. Peixotto-
Joseph E. Travis- Anna Upjohn Adelaide C. Watson E. B. Child Laura Blackwood Marian MacIntosh- Harriette R. Richards
-Josephine R. Thorp -William Henry Remington-Aggie P. Rhodes-Chester Holmes Aldrich- H-oward Sill.
Hugh McCulloch-- ........ i. Botts-Theo. Wright- R. Proctor Barclay-Fulton Lewis-Rachel Hartwell Chapman -Katie
'C. McIlwaine-Clara M : i-.I.i -Ethelda May Daggett-Frank Sweet-Clara A. Rosengarten-Silvie Coster-Max P. Smith
-William E. Tunis-Annah E. Jacobs- H. M. Grew-Mary Fortier- Abby E. Underwood- Walter A. Tiers-Helen Staple-
,ton-Lucia T. Henderson-Kittie G. Matchette-Albert J. Geiger-Frank R. Whiteside-Jessie McCartney-Leona Hope-
Otie Woodard -Helene Billing-Lillie Vance-" Margie "- Fannie Saunders- Frank A. Reynolds-Mary S. Hedrick- Sallie
J. Ireland Cora C. Moffett- Libbie Harriott -Ettie Stephens Edith M. Foote- George Groute Edwin Lathe Emma M. L.
Tillon -Jonas T. Roberts Wesley Browning -Arthur T. Wilgress- Mattie Wetherbee -James Leaming Rice -John A.
Murphy Richard A. French Ruby M. Patterson Winnie F. Eddy Gertie L. Abbott Lillian M. Douglass Maude Merrill -
Ulysses Leonidas Leonhaeuser-Edward Charles Dickinson- Charles Clair Allen-- Nannie E. Wade- Charlotte J. Leeds- Chauncey
B. Allen Hattie E. Willcox Lewis Holzmann Mattie Martin Amy A. Collier-- Caroline R. Fox Webster W. Bolton Arthur
Tompkins -Ella M. Chandler-Alice Cullen -Dora W. Duyer-Nellie Jackson -Rhoda Rhodes -Louisa C. Browning- Florence
L. Pettyjohn John C. Cory Howard Andrus Giddings Bertha S. Giddings H. H. Spaulding Mattie Latimer Laura F. S. Gar-
.nett- Eugene Betts Lena E. Reynolds Caroline McC. Jenness Robert S. Chase Elfreda L. Shaffer Fred W. Dewey--
William 0. Moody Ethel Mary Turner- Cecelia B. Pollock William Booth Papin Cora May Norman Marguerite T. Shutt-
Belle Norman Mary E. Carter- Mary E. Tudor- Cornelia W. Eddy- Helen E. Stone- Benjamin Mortimer Violet Harrison -
-Clement Dietrich- Madge S. Crane-William R. Stewart -J. E. Paine--Edith White -Edward S. Fish- J. J. Daggy -Albert E.
Warren Amy Lee Brenton- Josephine E. Chapman Lydia B. Penrose Etta M. Gilbreath H. D. Crippen Daisy W. Jones -
Harold Fairall-- Bruc TT r.11 .: M. A. Pease Willie B. Bosworth Bessie C. Riggs Annie A. Oyen -De La C. Burgess--
Millicent Olmsted -'.. I ..... i -,. ... -Albert Swain Florence Gertrude Mason- Alpheus P. Riker- Daisy M. Johnson Hugh
Tallant George M. Anderson William Henry Corbin- Alexander Bethune, Jr.- Sidney E. Farwell- Rose W. Scott Constance E.
Ruth -Anna F. Ruth- Gussie Sims-Ernest Sims-Perry Sagebiel-Emma Foster- Loretta Mead-Charlie G. Davis-Nellie
Torrey- Louise Dewey Fisher-Evelina Hoey-Fanny H. Buntin-R. W. Harrington-Elva J. Emmons- Mary C. Hooper-Alice
Greaves James C. Holenshade Hattie Mf. Perley- Lafon Alien Theodora Willard-- E. J. Collingwood John C. Lewis- Helen
G. Trotter-- Helen M. Chase- G. Albert Thompson--Sade Wilson Beatrice B. Herford Henrietta E. Roebbelen -Alonzo L.
Ware- Constance H. Savage Reba T. Holcourb C. F. Kendall, Jr.- Ernest Lallier- May H. Carman -Laura V. Crane-Mabel
Page Taylor-Mary H. Kimball-Altia R. Austin-Theodore B. Chancellor- Genevieve Louise Tyler-Jennie La Tourette-
Blanche E. Mason -Mary Susan Fechtig-Josie Turrell- William Thum -Mamie B. Purdy--Nellie Haines -Lou M. Andrews-
Ophelia Harris Constance G. Alexander Mary D. Howe--Julie H. Thompson Carrie Scales- John H. Tench E. Carlton
Atkins-- Mattie D. Fenner-Bessie M. Dunster -Virginia D. Lyman--Eleanor B. Lindsley -Laura R. Heckert-Emmie C.
Whitson- Clara Blacking- Victor H. Wallace -Blanche Wintzer- Lorin E. Shutts -Edith Briggs- Emily Stockton -Lulie Stockton
- Etta Wagner- Daisy Shryock Edward Tappan Adney Lillie J. Matthews Hugh E. Stone- Sally Alice Yerkes Willie Vauter
-Horace M. Reeve- Phillips Carmer-Elizabeth Yorke Hoopes-Harry E. Bates-Birdie L. Johnston- Edward Craig Trenholme-
Nettle Emma Waite-Minnie Holzmann -Mary W. Barkley-Willie S. Lorimer-Annie Franklin Blake-Julia S. Caldwell-Louis
Todd Ellen Deam- Maddie Scott- Henry Hahn James S. B. Hollingshead- Daisy Keyser- Celeste M. Hunt-Paul Alexander
Steele-Fred E. Goodspeed- Clara H. Hollis-Henry S. Towle-Marie Haughton-Daisy Brown- Mathewson- George M.
Lawton Dallas I. Cadwalader F. M. Waug, Jr.- Eugene Klapp Gertie L. Rackliffe Etheldred Breeze Barry Louise Shipman -
Anna H. Hudson-Hallie V. McConnell-F. Porteous-Belle I. Miller-Will F. Sweet-Mamie B. Purdy-Mary B. W. Coxe--
Ora W. L. Slater Fred C. Barton- Edith Adelaide Shattuck- Martha Mayer- John Henderson Hanson Robinson -J. Conwav
Robinson Lucy Dorrit Hale Ward L. Thompson Madge Arthur Ange Carson Paul Frederick Hoffinan Ruth Drake H.
Ernest Peabody- Charles W. Billheimer-Emma V. Hart-Lizzie B. Albrecht-Joseph Holden Sutton-Carrie Carter- Hattie V.
Woodard-Stella McEntee--Lulu W. Stover- Ann. T "T .. Prancie Wieser--Helen M. Hastings--Walter C. Haullenbeck-
Susie Moore Martin-Hattie L. Moore-Arthur W. -, .. .. Stanbery- Guy S. Harris- Fanny M. Durkin- Harry Durkin
- Mabel Fonda--Louisa E. Ricketston-Mary F. Cushman--Laura Balch Carpenter -Frances A. Walker-V. Holland--Louise
Latham Devereux- Lucia Noble-Frances Colledge Hatton- Gertrude Weil-Mathilde Weil-Allison Owen- David Ericson--
Mattie D. Fenner- George Harley Graham-Alice Schueppenhiesser-William C. Palmer-Ad&le Bacon-Ella F. Scott-Josephine
Meeker-Ada Seymour-Bella Wehl-Aquila T. Sutch-Harry L. Armstrong--Jennie Chapell Hodge-Isabel Field-Alice Margue-
rite Agar- Daisy Bowley Rosie Alderson- Eveline Maude Alderson- Effie Margaret Holden- Edith Holden-Winifred Holden.
There's a list for you And right proud am I of you all--Prize ever hear anything like that? Therefore, partly because she is
winners, Earnest Competitors, and Rollers of Honor. May we all right, and partly because the little lady evidently considers no letter
live to try again complete without a postscript, I take up my pen to add that all the
Your grateful and faithful friend, SIIAS GREEN. aforesaid several drawings and sketches were made to illustrate one
or more of the three poems here reprinted from ST. NICHOLAS for
P. S.-The dear little school-ma'am has just suggested that many December 1883, and that all further particulars may be found upon-
new readers may wish to know what my letter is about I Did you page 182 of that beautiful Christmas number. S. G.
WXASHINGTON, D. C., January 8, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In the December number Miss Sargent
told us about the "Children's Christmas Club." Well, the princi-
pals and-trustees of our public schools took right hold of it and
divided the city into four sections. I think there were about two
hundred members and about as many guests in our section. We
held it on the Friday after Christmas in one of our school buildings;
after the dinner we had a Christmas tree and presents for the chil-
dren who were our guests.
The next afternoon we had an entertainment for the members and
poor children; we had magic lantern views, six recitations, two
songs, and a violin solo.
I think "Phaeton Rogers" and "Mystery in a Mansion were
splendid, and I liked "Christmas in the Pink Boarding-house," in
the January number.
I fear my letter is almost too long to print, but if you have
room, please put it in. Your constant reader, FLIP."
S125 HURON STREET, MILWAUKEE, WI., January 12, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Your recipe for removing stains from
chromos and oil-paintings, printed in the November Letter-Box,"
has proved effectual. Please accept my tardy thanks.
Your constant subscriber, AGNES LYDON.
HERE is another letter from Australia:
MELROSE, SOUTH AUSTRALIA, October 24, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This is the first letter I have ever written
to you, and I am only going to write a short one.
I like reading-your books very much, especially "Work and Play
for Young Folk," as it shows you many things which you can do.
It is just the time for the wild fruits in this country, the wild
peaches and cherries. The peach is about the size of the cultivated
cherry, and the color a bright red. The stones are nice to make
small ornaments with when they are carved with a knife. The
cherry is a good bit smaller than the peach. It is the shape of a
thimble; the stone grows outside and at the bottom, the fruit at the
top. They are so small that you want a lot before you are satisfied.
We go out looking for them. They generally make up parties to.
go out looking for wild peaches in November.
From your affectionate reader, EDITH ANDREWS.
PORTLAND, OREGON, February x, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have intended to write to you ever
since I took you; that is, since August, 1883; but now, as I read so
much of snow and frost in your country, I am tempted to write and
tell you what lovely weather we have in Oregon. The grass is green
and many of the trees are as beautiful as in summer. One day it
snowed here and it was rare fun -. i.,ii.....d the sleigh-bells
were ringing like music. Thatis I .. ..-. -. I like; but when
it is so cold that it hurts your toes, then I don't like winter. My
sister took you when she was a little girl; and I have a year's sub-
scription, as a Christmas present from my mamma. I sometimes
play the child parts for nice companies that come here; perhaps,
sometime, I can write well enough to tell you my theatrical ex-
perience. I am eleven years old; well, I will say good-by, I
love to read you so much. I remain, your constant reader,
BURLINGTON, IOWA, January 2o, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In the January number I saw a question
asked by C. Herbert Swan, in the "Letter-box": "What is the.
difference between Gutta Percha and India Rubber? Is it not a con-
undrum ? I answer "No; it is not a conundrum." If friend Swan
will read the Life and Discoveries of Charles Goodyear," page 44,
he will find it fully explained. I wish also to say that the operetta,
entitled "The Three Somber Young Gentlemen-and the Three
Pretty Girls," was presented to a delighted audience by the North
Hill Grammar School, of Burlington, Iowa, December 17. We
netted a handsome sum for the school. And some of the older
persons in the audience told me it was worth four times the price of
admission. All praise to good ST. NICHOLAS 1
Yours, One of the Somber Young Gentlemen, and a constant
reader, WILLIE L. COCHRAN.
AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION-THIRTY-SIXTH REPORT.
DR. WARREN'S first manual for the Red Cross class is a charming
little book, containing a full statement of his.plan, and lessons for
the first month. Dr. Warren very generously offers a prize earth
month for the best report, and a prize for the best set of reports for
six months. The first stibject was "Bones" [See February ST.
NICHOLAS] ; for March we studied Muscles," and the topic for
this month is The Circulatory System." -All are invited to join
this class now. Address Charles Everett Warren, M. D., 51 Union
Park. Boston, Mass.
The Association has been steadily increasing in numbers and
enthusiasm; the latest number on our register is 6480.
No. Name. No. of Members. Address.
565 Waseca, Minn. (A)........ 6..J. F. Murphy, box 2s8.
566 Elmore, Ohio (A) ......... 2..G. W. Eoff.
567 Sigourney, Iowa (A) ..... 5..Carl M. Keck.
568 Meadville, Pa. (B)..... 6..F. L. .,,, :. .:
569 Ludington, Mich. (A) ...... Chas. i -
570 Hackensack, N. (A).... 4. Philander BeLts.
571 Grand Rapids, Mich. (B)..16..Geo. C. Hollister (Old Nat.
572 Newark, N. J. (C)........ o..L. M. Passmore.
573 Moss Point, Miss. (A) ..... 6. Miss Bessie Borden.
574 Indianapolis, Ind. (D)..... 7 .Thomas Moore, 332 N. Ala-
The address of Chapter 527 is Norman Sinclair, 633 Tyler St.,
San Francisco, Cal.
Chapter 112, which was once discontinued, has been reorganized
on a stronger basis than ever. Address Harry E. Sawyer, 37
Gates Street, South Boston, Mass.
[Will not some of the other "discontinued" chapters follow this
good example ?]
It is with sincere sorrow that we learn of the death of another of
our most earnest secretaries, Mr. Ernest D. Bowman, of Albuquerque,
New Mexico (Ch. 483). The local papers speak of Mr. Bowman
in terms of the highest praise and most tender regret. His place as
secretary has been supplied by Miss Mamie E. Whitcomb, box 9r.
HELP FOR OUR MIINERALOGISTS.
BRISTOL, R. I.
Although my children are constant readers of ST. NICHOLAS, it is
only lately that I have noticed the A. A. I have strong faith in the
value of a study of Nature, and if I can assist any of the young
mineralogists, let them address me.- S. F. Peckham.
[Prof. Peckham will find his kind offer fully and gratefully
Correspondence with distant chapters.- Geo. W. Eoff, Elmore,
Ohio (Sec. 566).
Insects.- E. L. Stephan, Pine City, Minn.
Chinese nuts for prepared woods or cocoons.- Miss Isabelle
McFarland, 1727 F. Street, N. W., Washington, D. C.
Rare eggs--sets and single-blown by one hole.-Chas. E.
Doe, 5o Ring Street, Providence, R. I.
Quail eggs, for geodes.-Bayard Christy, box 41, Sewickley, Pa.
Ores and fossils, for best offer.--C. A. Jenkins, Chittenango,
N. Y. (Sec. 447).
One star-fish for one sea-urchin; also, assorted shells for Florida
moss, or bark from the "big trees."-G. A. Conover, Box 69,
Bergen Point, N. J.
Geodes.- Miss C. S. Roberts, Sharon, Conn. (Sec. 522).
Sulphur, woods, and ore; write first.--A. J. Mitchell, Carbon-
A pair of Angora rabbits for a pair of lop-eared rabbits.-S.
Simonds, St. Paul's School, Garden City, L. I.
Twenty labeled eggs, for a large star-fish, trilobite, or horse-shoe
crab; write first.- Miss Florence D. Haight, Alton, Ill.
Serpentine, rhynconellas, chalchedony, etc., for a Guinea-pig.-
Ed. Davis, 3201 Vernon Avenue, Chicago.
Dolomite, geodes, talc, etc., for minerals.-Giaham Davis, 3201
Vernon Avenue, Chicago.
Agates, cocoons, etc; special offer for a Lmna.-Ezra Lamed,
2546 S. Dearborn Street, Chicago, Ill.
C/Saet., for minerals (polished) and woods.-L. L.
Lewis, C ,.. : .. :. Y.
Petrified wood and coral.-A. C. Hurlburt, 4 Europe Street,
Providence, R. I.
Cocoons, for eggs. Eddie A. Shepherd, Galesburg, Kansas.
A perfect trilobite (Calymene magarensis) for a perfect Einrip-
terus remifes or an ammonite.-F. W. Wentworth, 153 25th
Minerals and a large collection of lefidoptera and eggs, for large,
fine minerals (3 x 2a in.). List sent on receipt of stamp.-John B.
Martin, 21 Canal Street, Grand Rapids, Mich.
Minerals and books for fossils from Mesozoic age. Correspond-
ents in Scotland, Switzerland, Germany, and Italy.-Wm. H. Van
Allen, Lawrenceville, St. Lawrence Co., N. Y.
80o. Ctnary bird.-By feeding a canary with cayenne pepper
and steeped bread, its color was changed to a bright red.-A. H.
81. Diamonds have been found in North America, the largest
in Richmond, Va., by a laborer. Chapter 275.
82. Parasite in a dragonfly.- I discovered in an Agrion a pea-
green parasite, about % in. long, tapering at both ends. I learn
from the Agricultural Dep't that this is the first case on record of a
parasite found in a dragon-fly.-Alonzo H. Stewart, Washington,
[Has any other member found one ?]
83. Color of rivers.-In the Pemigewasset River, in the Fran-
comna Mountains, are large flat rocks containing veins of quartz and
mica. This mica is tinged with green. Mica in the Harvard Brook,
which runs into the Pemigewasset, is dull red. The water of the
brook is very much colored. I think that iron probably colors both
the mica and the water.- Ellen C. Wood.
84. Crocodile in Central A erica.-
SAN JOSE, COSTA RICA.
While on this coast, at Port Limon, in 1873, I saw one day what
looked like a crocodile on a log near the road-bed. I offered ten
dollars to the man that would capture it. A hundred of the blacks
plunged in heels over head, and in a few moments I had the reptile.
I sent it alive in a tank to my friend, Professor J. C. Dalton, in
New York. He declared the saurian to be a crocodile, not an
I think it is the first ever found in Central America. Can my
friends of the A. A. tell the difference between an alligator and a
crocodile, and whether my claim is valid or not ?
C. R. Lordly, M. D.
85. Tree rings.-After a discussion about the age of trees, as
shown by their rings, we decided that the number of distinct rings
does not indicate the number of years that a tree has lived, but is
due to the number of stoppages in its growth.- H. A. Cooke.
[We should wish to hear from others on this point; also, as to the
cause of the rings in beets.]
THE BOTANY CLASS.
SALT LAKE, January 12, I884.
Mrs. Rachel Mellon, of Pittsburg, Pa., is the only one who has
completed the course satisfactorily.- Marcus E. Jones.
Prof. G. Howard Parker has not yet sent his report on the class in
REPORTS FROM CHAPTERS.
475. Dundee, Scotland.- We have now a large collection of wild
flowers, ferns, sea-weeds, r- -- We have had a present of some
eggs from the Orkney and -i. i ..- i Islands.--A. G. Keiller, Sec.
23C Castle Bank, Strand, Eng. -We have had a very nice cabi-
net given to us, full of specimens, some of which are very rare. We
have be"" -"-- ti-u- g-yr.-"r and classifying them. We number
about t ...r -- ..,, I C. Ruegg.
2o. Faibfyeld, Iowa.-The Chapter is heartily to be congratulated
on its good fortune. Senator James F. Wilson has recently offered
to give to the Library Association of Jefferson Co. two lots in the
city of Fairfield, on condition that during 1884 money be raised or
provided for, sufficient to erect a building for the Association, to cost
not less than $15,0oo, in which provision shall be made for the
library, museum, and lecture room, and a room for the Agassi-
Chapter oJ f'airfield," etc. :
This munificent offer has been accepted, and we trust our friends
will in due time be permanently and cozily ensconced in their new
382. Brookdyn, F.-One of us took ants. Several nests were
placed in 'a box covered with glass and surrounded by water, and
many curious things were observed.-Jeannie Van Ingen, Sec,
I53. Chicago, E.-It will no doubt please you to know that the
Academy of Science puts on all its postal cards :
"All members of the Agassiz Association are invited to be res-
ent at the meetings." F. W. Wentworth, Sec.
404. Baraboo, Wis., A.-Our Chapter gave an entertainment
last week, and cleared $12.00. The opening piece was the Report
-of the A. A. in ST. NICHOLAS, read by one of us. Another recited
"Agassiz's Birthday," and we had a pantomime.-Marie McKen-
463. Dayton, 0., B.-We are still alive and growing. We have
-entered on Historical Geology and Entomology.-J. H. Jones, Sec.
344. Monroe, Wiis.-The same flourishing report might be given
again this month. We now have 30 members.-J. J. Schindler.
87. New York, B.-Another eventful year has passed, and left
success written on all our records. During the year, 31 essays
have been read, and 21 regularly announced discussions have been
successfully held. Our roll of members has been increased from
z3 to i8. In our library are 68 bound volumes, and 439 magazines.
Besides these, we have a scrap-book, folio, and several charts, and
files of essays. We have a balance of $64.83 to our credit.-A.
[A good year's work!]
416. Racine, Wis., A.-We intend to begin collecting plants as
soon as the snow is off the ground. We shall also make a collection
of the skeletons of the fish we catch next year. We have a place
arranged for an aviary, also. We had an aquarium running all last
year.-John L. McCalman, Sec,
148. De Pere, Wis., B.-In addition to the duties of our meet-
ings, the President requests of each member an account, either oral
or written, of some subject selected by the Society. The second
anniversary reception of our Society was held Jan. 25. Fearing our
invited guests might tire for lack of variety, we decided to enjoy
games pertaining to Natural History, and also to add refreshments.
It proved a success. We have twenty-four working members, and
five honorary.- Lillie Childs, Sec., Feb. 5, 1884.
17. Northanmpton, Mlass.-I have about decided to be n Natural-
ist, for I never took such an interest in anything as I have in in-
sects.- Florence Maynard, Sec.
353. Philadelhfi/a, K.-As I take a glance over the records of the
year, I find that we have increased in membership from 6 to ii, that
we have gained a great deal of valuable information, that we have
our library stored with many valuable books, and our cabinet with
many minerals.-B. F. Royer.
Too. Hariford, Conn., B.-We are :.. on with our note-
books, keeping record of whatever we see -... of us collect ferns.
We feed caterpillars, and watch them i......i. We are going to
leave them out-of-doors this winter, as -i .r .11 be more natural.
We have just taken in five new members, and we now have
twenty, who are really interested in the work.-Francis Parsons, Sec.
Lenox Academy, Lenox, ..I i.... Mass.
EACH of the small objects
(numbered from one to four- BA E
teen) may be described by a
word of four letters. When I
these are rightly guessed, and I
arranged one below another,
as the plan of the corkscrew
shows, the letters forming the
corkscrew (represented by
the heavy dots) will spell
what we all expect in April.
EASY BEHEADINGS. T"
I. BEHEAD an animal, and
leave a grain. 2. Behead de-
parted, and leave a unit. 3.
Behead an outcry, and leave
a delicacy. 4. Behead a pre-
cious metal, and leave an-
tique. 5. Behead a city of
Siberia, and leave a city of
Siberia. MAIDIE H.
WHOLE, I am a word of
eight letters, and mean less
obstructed; syncopate one i
letter, and I am a word mean-
ing to suppress; behead one
letter, and I name a near-
relative; behead again, and
I, am not the same; behead
me twice, and I am a pro-
noun; behead me again, and
I am still a pronoun; trans-
pose, and I am an expression
FIND concealed in the fol-
lowing sentences four words
which will form a word-
Katie walked on and on till the road was hidden in the
gathering gloom. Who may this bonnie stranger be?" she
would gayly hum, ostensibly to keep up her courage. Soon
after, Diana's own orb shone down upon her as she stood at
the cottage door. w. iH. G.
Q i MY primals and finals to-
S_ --gether name a famous Amer-
ican who was born and who
Died on the seventeenth of
S--' --'-_-- 1 \ April
l. CROS-ORDS: i Hearty.
i Mistake. 3. A river of
I ,~-:- 1 Russia. 4. To unite. 5. A
---- _".-. shaven of -fr- 6. A pat-
=- --. L tern. 7. I I. people over
S V' w ionwhom Boadicea reigned. 8.
A people. J. D. W.
E PLAN OF THE 0 I DIAMOND.
"i.CORKSCREW II z Is- pickles. 2. Calami-
R S W tous. 3. Matched.. Belong-
i.--.t ire. 5. Of the nature
6. Deduced. A
.* playerat dice. 8. An errand-
boy. 9. In pickles.
S *- ALCIBIADES."
Sj" I FIVE WVORD-
a I. T. Tarly. 2. Sour. 3.
S' 3 Age. 4. The first garden.
S e q II. A title of nobility.
2. Extent. 3. Twenty quires.
1 4. Disabled.
SIII. Unworthy. 2. Part
/j of a prayer. 3. To impel. 4.
'Z 1 IV. i. A circle. 2. A
m o etal. 3. A girl's name. 4.
SIS V. t. S.und in mind. 2.
a I Parched with heat. 3. A
L number. 4. A paradise.
S ZS. 1"A. P. OWDPER, JR."
i .+ het clabbskrdi nigs; het metrass
I gaughinl, omrfhleirt netriw smerad,
I .. I ertmel ni eth pAlir swersoh
i-!.. 'elass fo eth plame wrelsof.
EDITH R. BILLINGS.
C '"-r i.- r o-: -r -lownward, are said, by Christina G. Rosetti,
to willhear." Cross-words: i. Introduction.
2. Mild. 3. A small spot. 4. In windy. 5. To importune. 6. A
place to sleep in. 7. To solace. A. s. C. A. AND C. S. A.
504 THE RIDDLE-BOX. [APRIL..
CHARADE. word; finals, to spice. Cross-words: i. Boundaries. 2. Whole.
3. Seasickness. 4. A river of England. 5. An inhabitant of Green-
By his friends Jack in business was started; land. 6. A people-living under one government. CYRIL DEANE.
Soon my second they found him to be;
Then my first came, as might be expected,
And he went into insolvency. CUBE.
His poor friends called on him one morning,
In hopes to hear what would console,-
Jack sent them away none the wiser,
But not till he gave them my whole. 3 . 4
w. H. A.
NOVEL DOUBLE ACR.OSTICS. 5 6
ALL the words described contain six letters each.
I. Primals, a religious festival; finals, beautiful blossoms. Cross-
words : To settle an estate so as to cause it to descend to a par- 7 .
ticular heir. 2. A silver coin of Persia. 3. A succeeding part. FROM I to 2, a rogue; from 2 to 6, a singing bird; from 5 to 6, a
4. One of the Society Islands. 5. To obliterate. 6. Intermission. guard; from i to 5, to recount; from 3 to 4, the name of an inn
II. Primals are the same as the finals of the preceding cross- that is associated with the poet Chaucer; from 4 to 8, a physician;
word; finals, pertaining to a religious season. Cross-words: I. A from 7 to 8, a person of an irritable temper; from 3 to 7, a mark to
plant resembling the bean. 2. Deranged. 3. To hearken. 4. To shoot at; from i to 3, to defeat and throw into confusion; from 2 to
reverse. 5. To enlist. 6. One of the planets. 4, a governor; from 6 to 8, a row; from 5 to 7, a departure.
III. Primals are the same as the finals of the preceding cross- DAVID H. D.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER.
U--N -,, ,,
... ._ i -j^*- .. .
LENTEN PUZZLE. Those have a short Lent who owe money to SHAKESPEAREAN PUZZLE. Othello.
be paid at Easter. (See illustration.) The first is taken in a court of law;
WORD SYNCOPATIONS. i. B-eGg-ar. 2. Can-tOn-s. 3. The second is a greeting given boy by boy;
Fat-tEn-ed. 4. He-aTe-r. 5. Wa-sHe-d. 6. Heat-hEn-s. Cen- The whole, a play in which a jealous man
tral row of letters in the syncopated words, Goethe. To revenge himself did violence employ.
DROP-LETTER PUZZLE. March grass never did good. Answer to the rebus, Salvini.
PI. Who shoots at the mid-day sun, though he is sure he shall DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Beethoven. Finals, Elizabeth.
never hit the mark, yet as sure he is, that he shall shoot higher than Cross-words: x. BastE. 2. EaseL. 3. Ennul. 4. TopaZ. 5.
he who aims but at a bush.-Sirz Phiiy Sidney. HeclA. 6. OrkuB. 7 VaguE. 8. EdicT. 9. NeigH.
RHOMBOID. Reading across: i. Carat. 2. Habit. 3. Mural. NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
4. Tepid. 5. Depot. Ah, March we know thou art
PYRAMID PUZZLE. From i to 19 (or from 19 to 1), RED ROOT Kind-hearted, spite of ugly looks and threats,
PUT UP TO ORDER. Cross-words: o10. T. 9, 11. U. U. 8 to 12, And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets 1
PoP; 7 to 13, TexT; 6 to 14, OutgO; 5 to t5, OctavO; 4 to 16, PROGRESSIVE DIAMONDs. I. i. A. 2. Ado. 3. Adore. 4.
RivaleR; 3 to 17, DividenD; 2 to IS, EquitablE; to g19, Ring- Ore. 5. E. II. L. 2. Lit. 3. Lithe. 4. The. 5. E.
leadeR. CHARADE. Nightingale. III. i. B. 2. Bat. 3. Baton. 4. Ton. 5. N.
ANSWERS TO JANUARY PUZZLES were received, too late for acknowledgment in the March number, from Lily and Agnes, London,
England, 9 Perne, 6.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February 20o, from Paul Reese-Arthur Gride
- Maggie T. Turrill Madeleine Vultee "San Anselmo Valley "- Cyril Deane Louise Belin Dycie Jessie A. Platt Wm. H.
Clark -"We, Us, and Co." -"H. and Co."- Harry M. Wheelock Oscar and Eddie-"Bess and Co." -"Zealous" -Frank and
Agnes Irwin Kina- L. and S. I. -P. S. Clarkson C. S. C. Hugh and Cis Francis W. Islip T. S. Palmer.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February o2, from "Lucille," -"The Trio," 2-
Lizzie and Emily, 13-Ed. V. Shipsey, 8-Alice M. Isaacs, 3-Bessie Chamberlin, i-Jack T. Spaulding, -Viola Percy Conklin, 3
-Eber C. Byam, a-P. 0. Dorman, -Joseph C. Russ, Jr., 9-Florence Weston, 4-Louisa and Daisy, i-Charles S. Hoyt, Jr., z
Mattie Jenks, i- "Cinderella," -" Enquirer," 2-Maude Bugbee, lo-Josie Freeman, i-"Three Owls," 4-Lizzie D. F., I-
Arthur E. Hyde, 3-"Hans B.'s Pard," o-J. S. H., 2-Jessie E. Jenks, 2-Russell K. Miller, 2-Will and Mary, 12-C. A.
Elsberg; 4- Frances W. Wellington, I- Lorenzo Webber, Jr., Phillips Carmer, 2-Effie K. Talboys, Io-Tessie and Anna, 6-
B. C. R., Fannie J. 0., I Nellie Townley, Mamie L. Mensch, 4 Bertha Hall, 6- Mary Yeager, -"Rex Ford," 6- Emma
T. Screws, Edwin L. Rushmer, Ed. and Louis, 8 Helen M., 3 L. C. B., 7- Helen Ballantine, 3 Ruth and Nell, 5 Moses
W., C -Natalie, 3 -A. V. Mead and B. H. Peck, 3- Sadie Love, Percy M. Nash, 3 -Theo. B. Appel, 3-" The Cottage," 4-
Fannie Wood, 5---"Uncle Dick and Dick," o-Jennie and Birdie, 5 -Fitz-Hugh Burns, 3-Stella A. McCarty, 13-Julia T. Nelson,
4 -Mary C. Burnam, I Georgia L. Gilmore, R. A. de Lima, 2 -"Fin. I. S.," Eliza Westervelt, 6-" Professor and Co.,"
- Dasy Moss, Edith Helen Moss, 4- H. Arlem, Alex. Laidlaw, 6- FanniM. Gobe, Lalla and Floride Croft, -Harry
F. Whiting, i- Florence Galbraith Lane, n-B. and S., 4-G. James Bristol, lo- Walter B. Angell, 13 -D. B. Shumway, -
Mamma and Nellie," 8-Vessie Westover, 13-Willie Sheraton, 4-Millie White, 13-Minnie B. Murray, 12-Eleanor and Maude,
2-Charles H. Kyte, 9- Livingston Ham, 4-Geo. Blagden, Jr., 7 "Hen and Chickens," as-Hattie, Clara, and Mamma, 13-
Mabel Wiley, 8 Mary Foster, 8 Robert L. Allee, 2.