St. Nicholas

fit" 477

NICHOLAS.

MAY, 1884.

[Copyright, 1884, by THE CENTURY CO.]

"ROCKET" AND. "FLYER."

BY JOEL STACY.

IN the soft, green light of the leafy June,
" Rocket" and "Flyer" sat humming a tune;
Humming and chatting, they soberly swayed
In the hammock under the linden's shade.

Said Rocket to "Flyer": To make them
quite strong,
Mamma said we scarcely could take too much
pains; "
" Oh, yes! answered "Flyer," "and ever so
long --
But, how funny for horses to make their own
reins "

A live pair of horses. They worked side by
side,
As each a crochet-needle daintily plied.
Their real names were Fanny and Marjorie
Blair,
And never was seen a more beautiful pair.

Spirited, supple, strong, gentle, and fleet
Were "Rocket" and Flyer," as Robbie
allowed.
Rob was their master,-so chubby and sweet,
'T was plain to be seen why his horses were
proud.

Such a grip as he had Such a whoa /" and
a "go!"
Such a power over horses- (of their kind, you
know);
Such a genius for making them follow his will,-
For making them amble, or holding them still!

Well, it seems that one day, when the spirited,
span
Were hitched to a rose-bush that stood by the
door,
At the sight of a spider, they broke loose and ran;
And Robbie sat wailing as never before.

His lines were all tangled, and broken, and torn.
The rose-bush rained petals, and sprang back in
scorn.
For "Rocket" and "Flyer," as Robbie declared,
" Had turned into girls just because they were
scared "

In vain they begged pardon, flushed, laughing
and warm;
In vain coaxed and kissed in their prettiest
style;
But at last, by a promise, they conquered the
storm,
And won from their master a nod and a smile.

They would make him "a new set of reins? -
good and strong? "
Make him reins that were nearly a dozen yards
long ? "
Ah, Rocket" and Flyer," -you beautiful
span!
'T is you who can manage the stout little man !

And this was the reason they swung side by side,
And each a crochet-needle daintily plied;-
Their real names were Fanny and Marjorie Blair,
And never'was seen a more beautiful pair.

ST.

VOL. XI.

No. 7.

I I TJ T' 'TA. 7 'K V'

CHAPTER I.

THE PLEASURES OF EAVESDROPPING.

N the grassy bank by the door
.of the old'parsonage, a slender
boy, with thin, dark features
and straight black hair, sat with
a shingle on his lap, skinning
a bird.
Hearing the latch of the gate click,
he looked up and scowled.
It's old Pickerel !" he muttered, bending his
eyes again intently on his work. Wonder what
he wants here "
The visitor was a young man, not more than
thirty; but, being a school-master, the boys called
him old; and, because his name was Pike, they
called him Pickerel.
He came along the graveled walk, swinging his
light cane, and without appearing to notice par-
ticularly the boy's occupation said, in a tone of
voice meant to be conciliatory:
"Is your father at home, Gaspar ? "
"No, he aint," Gaspar replied id,. without
looking up again from his bird.
Old Pickerel- or, rather, young Mr. Pike -
paused and hesitated, while a look ot displeasure
or disappointment, or both, gathered on that beam-
ing, friendly face of his.
What he thought was: "When you come to my
school, you 'll be taught manners more becoming
a minister's son, and learn not to say aint." What
he said was- (in a tone still resolutely conciliatory,
for he seemed aware of wild traits in this young colt,
whom he was to catch first and afterward tame):
I am sorry for that. At what time will he
return ? "
"Don't know," said Gaspar shortly, as before,
while he continued skinning his bird.
The visitor was about to turn away in disgust,
but he hesitated again. It was evidently hard for

him to keep up the bland and winning manner of
his first questions; but he did it heroically, and
asked if Gaspar's mother was in.
"Guess so," was the discourteous answer he
received; and he moved on toward the door.
"If the old gentleman aint at home, the old
lady will do," mused Gaspar, who commonly spoke
of his parents in this light, irreverent way. (Some-
times, I regret to relate, they were the old man"
and the old woman.")
"What's up, I wonder? I '11 bet they 've sent
for him to talk over my going into the high school
this fall "
He stopped skinning his bird, and fixed on
vacancy a fierce, discontented look.
"But I aint going to the high school; that 's
all there is about that My days of slavery are
over. I 'm going to have a good time now, when
I can; and when I can't, I'll make a row."
He tried to give his mind once more to the bird-
skinning, but he was excited and listless; a long-
ing possessed him to know how a quiet little con-
versation about himself would sound.
He seemed to conclude that it would be amus-
ing; so, slipping the shingle, with the bird and
knife on it, under a lilac-bush, he glided cautiously
around the corner of the house, and turned up an
expectant ear under the sitting-room window.
He could hear voices within, but it was some
time before he could make out much that was said.
At length, his mother's voice began to rise and
swell with tempestuous emotion.
I wish my husband were here to talk with you,"
she was saying, "for I can't,--I can't,- without
giving way to my feelings and saying what I know
I shall regret afterward."
You need not hesitate to be quite frank with
me," was the reply, in earnest accents, breaking
through the subdued tones of the formal call. I
know something about boys. I have studied them
all my life, and I have never yet found one that did
not have some good traits that could be success-

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

fully appealed to, if approached by the right
person in the right way."
"It is about me," thought Gaspar, listening
breathlessly. But he was not displeased by the
visitor's remark. Guess old Pick aint such a very
scaly fellow, after all!" he said to himself. But
his mother was speaking now.
"Oh, yes And Gaspar is no exception. He
can be the pleasantest, most obliging boy you
ever saw, when things go to suit him; but that
is n't much of the time, I 'm forced to say, if I am
his mother 1 And when things don't go just ac-

"He seems to regard us as his enemies; whereas,
mercy knows, we work and pray only for his good.
He is not a malicious or a vicious boy; nor lazy, if
he is only interested in what he is doing-then,
I am often surprised to see how industrious and
capable he is! "
"That is boy-like. I have known many just
such cases," said the visitor.
I should n't mind, if we could ever get him in-
terested in anything we wish him to do," the mother
resumed. But that seems well-nigh impossible.
The very fact that we wish a thing done is enough

.I [ T.-.,.
-- 4 I-_ -. -

. ,I . ._ , -- - f '

r ' I '

II I

'I I /I`
Ii I I l -
: -- -i '. ._ _- -

.= .- . ,tt, j-'r-- -- '
p . ,, ', f l' : :: :

W"4 "-,A, ers.

AN UNGRACIOUS RECEPTION.

cording to his notion-oh I can't begin to tell to prejudice him against it, and often we have in-
you how we suffer from his unfilial conduct! duced him to pursue a desired course by appearing
The mother's voice became flawed and gusty with to oppose him in it. He told his sister that he could
grief; while the listener under the window scowled n't be hired to go to the picnic last week; but when
and set his teeth, as if he found eaves-dropping his father said, 'I suppose you wont care to go,
not so agreeable a pastime as he had anticipated, and it will be better, perhaps, for you to stay at
The school-master made some sympathetic re- home,' he changed his mind and went, to our
sponse, which was only half-audible to Gasper, and great relief."
then Mrs. Heth went on: Ho, ho! whispered Gaspar softly, not at all

- ',*

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

pleased to learn how he had been cajoled. "I '11
look out for you next time "
His father and I have wished to give him an
education; and though we are not rich, we would
cheerfully have made any sacrifices to send him to
college and prepare him for a profession. But he
hates study. Oh when I think of the difference
between him and some boys I know, who are striv-
ing for an education against the greatest obstacles,
while he is throwing away his opportunities, it
makes me-"
What is she crying for ?" Gaspar said to him-
self, in the painful interval of silence which followed.
We should be willing for him to leave school,"
she resumed presently, "if there were any other
useful thing he would apply himself to. But he
thinks he 's cruelly misused if we even require him
to take care of the horse, or split a little kindling-
wood. It is, in fact, so great a trial to get any-
thing of that kind done, that his father would
never ask it of him if it were not a still greater trial
to see him idle. That he is a minister's son,
makes the matter seem worse than if he belonged
to anybody else; so much is expected of a minis-
ter's family But he appears to have no regard
for his father's position; and, indeed, but very
little respect for him, anyway."
I infer that he is not a very good scholar," said
the visitor.
He is a very poor scholar. But it is n't the
fault of his ability. I. never saw a child so quick
to learn, when he once gives his mind to anything.
But his- object in school seems to have been to
have all the fun he could, while studying just
enough to pass his examinations, and not get left
by his class. Not one of his teachers has seemed
able to get at the right side of him; and I know he
has worked against them in every way he could."
Evidently they have not understood him,"
said the school-master.
How could they be expected to understand him,
when I, his own mother, can not ?" said the woman,
despondently. Oh, what would I not give to find
the right chord to touch in his nature, and know just
how to reach it! There must be such a chord,-
he is so bright, so ingenious, so ready to help almost
anybody but his own family and friends "
Gaspar scowled harder than ever, and his breath
came thickly. He wished his mother would not
talk in that way !
You see, now," she went on, "why we have
sent for you. We need your advice and help.
We are very anxious that he should enter at your
school the next term; and I thought that, per-
haps, if you could talk with him, knowing some-
Sthing of his peculiar disposition to begin with, you
might have some influence over him,"

The school-master did not reply for a moment.
Guess he don't care to take that contract,"
thought Gaspar, remembering his recent surly-be-
havior to the visitor. "He 'll think that I 'm too
bad to try to do anything with, and I can't blame
him." So he hardened his heart, although, for
some reason, he felt now that he would a little
rather have the good opinion of old Pickerel.
What sort of persons are his associates ?" the
teacher asked, after a pause.
Just such as you might suppose,-the most idle
and reckless boys in the neighborhood. There is
Pete Cheevy, perhaps the worst of them all. Scarce
a day passes but he and our boy are off together rob-
bing birds' nests, or killing the poor little birds."
I have observed them together," said the visi-
tor; "and I must confess that I have wondered
to see your son keeping such company."
"We have tried to prevent it," rejoined the
mother; and we have tried to prevent this war-
fare on the birds. But Gaspar has a gun --an old-
fashioned fowling-piece that his uncle gave him;
he even feels hard toward us, because his father will
not buy him a breech-loader He says that we op-
pose him in everything. Whereas, mercy knows,
we have been too indulgent. He is an only son; he
was our idol in his babyhood- all our hopes cen-
tered in him. Now,- to think how he repays us "
And Gaspar, under the window, could distinctly
hear his mother's sobs.
I am sure there must be some way of reaching
his better nature," said Mr. Pike. But I see he is
suspicious of me; thinking, no doubt, that because
I am a school-master I must be plotting against
his liberty. I will help you, if I can, Mrs. Heth;
but it is possible that it will not be best for him
to enter the high school; and, if so, for his own
good we should wish to know it."
He 's a level-headed old Pick, anyway!"
thought Gaspar, under the window.
It is n't always wise to oppose such a boy in
everything," the visitor went on. But if we can
discover the bent of his genius, and what he wishes
most at heart, we may, perhaps, direct him in the
right way,-not by damming the stream, but by
turning it into a proper channel."
His voice sounded as if he was rising to go, and
the boy made haste to get away from the window.

CHAPTER II.

A TALK ABOUT BIRDS.

WHEN Mr. Pike came out of the house, a few
minutes later, he saw Gaspar Heth sitting on the
grass where he had left him, with the little raw,
red body of the bird on the shingle beside him,

510

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

and the skin in his hands, smoothing out the ruf-
fled plumage.
What sort of bird is that?" the school-master
inquired, approaching, and leaning on his cane.
Gaspar did not answer for a moment, undecided
whether to regard this man as a friend or an
enemy. He shaped the wings, and holding out
the beak and tail, said at length :
Don't you know it ? "
No, I don't; I know very little about birds,-
much less than I wish I did."
"It 's a flicker," said Gaspar, quite pleased to
be able to teach the master of the high school
something.
"A flicker? What 's a flicker ? queried the
master.
"A high-hole," said Gaspar.
Well! Mr. Pike answered good-humoredly,
"that leaves me as ignorant as I was before.
What is a high-hole ? "
Gaspar laughed. It was fun to puzzle old Pick-
erel, and he wished some boys that he knew were
there to witness his triumph.
It's a yellow-hammer," he replied. "Now
you know."
"Now I don't know; in fact, I know less than
I did before," said the master. For, if I am
not mistaken, the yellow-hammer is a European
species; we have no yellow-hammer in this
country."
This bit of bird-knowledge took the gleeful
Gaspar by surprise.- He did not respect old Pick
any the less for it, however.
You are not mistaken," he said. We have
no true yellow-hammer. But that is one of the
common names this bird goes by. It is called a
flicker, too, I suppose, on account of the flashing
yellow of its wings when it flies; and a high-hole,
from the holes it makes for its nest in the trunks
of trees."
"Now I know the bird," replied the school-
master; as I think I should have done at first,
if I had seen it on the wing. It is the pigeon-
woodpecker, or golden-winged woodpecker, or
golden-shafted woodpecker; it seems to have a
great many names."
Gaspar was growing interested in the conver-
sation.
It has still another name," he said; "youi
ought to know that."
Why so ? "
Because it is Latin, and because you are the
school-master."
I am humiliated now said the teacher, with
a humorous, rueful smile. "I pretend to teach
Latin, and yet I don't know the Latin name for
this bird! though, I suppose, it must be some

sort of picus, that being the Latin name for wood-
pecker."
That's it," cried Gaspar, growing more and
more animated. Though I have always called
it pick-us, because it picks the trees."
"A very natural mistake," said the school-
master. But the i has the long sound; and the
word is not related to our word pick at all. This
picus must have some other Latin word to qualify
it, and show what particular species it is. Do you
remember it ? "
Auretus iPick/us aurelus, or something like
that."
The master smiled again.
Not au're/us, but aura'tus, my boy, with the
accent on the long a of the second syllable; ficus
aura'tus. That is, woodpecker decked with gold;
and a very good name it is. I am not surprised
that you did not get it quite right; on the con-
trary, I am surprised that you should have observed
and remembered the Latin name at all."
There's a book about birds in the public
library; in looking it over, I 've noticed that all
the woodpeckers are called ficus,-which I thought
meant fickers,- and then I could n't help wonder-
ing what some of the other words meant. I have
asked myself what auratus stood for, a good many
times; and now I am glad that I know it means
'decked with gold.' But I can't see the use of
giving Latin and Greek names to birds and things,
nowadays."
"Perhaps I can explain it to you," said the
master. Take this bird, for instance. We have
seen that it has several common names; one of
which, certainly, belongs to another bird. So, if
a person speaks of a yellow-hammer, how are you
to know whether he means this or the European
species ? In ordinary conversation you may think
that is not very important; but in all scientific
descriptions, it is necessary that such names shall
be used as can not be misunderstood."
"But why can't men of science agree upon
English names ?" the boy inquired.
That is a sensible question. The answer to
it is that all men of science are not English-
speaking people. There are German, French,
Spanish, Swedish, Dutch, Russian ornithologists,
and those of many other countries. Now, it is
true, they might all agree upon an English name
for each bird; but it would be as unreasonable for
us to expect that of foreigners, as we would con-
sider it, if we were all required to learn a French or
a Dutch name. It really seems much simpler and
more convenient to use Latin and Greek names,
which learned men in all countries agree upon
and understand; so that a German man of science
will know just what a Spanish man of science is

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

writing about, if he uses correct scientific terms.
Now, take the case of this very bird. A Swedish
naturalist, named Linnaeus, who was a great
botanist, and classified and gave scientific names
to plants, also gave names to many birds- to this
species, I suppose, among others; so that, when
picus auratus is alluded to by any writer in any
language, ornithologists know just what bird is
meant. So, you see, these scientific terms that you
dislike form a sort of universal language under-
stood by men of science the world over."
Can't a person be a good ornithologist without
knowing Latin and Greek?" Gaspar inquired.
Oh, yes; but he will find it very useful indeed
to. know those languages, especially as some
species of birds have more than one scientific
name, given them by more than one writer on the
subject. To know at least the rudiments of Greek
and Latin will be a great help to him; and these
can be acquired without very severe study. But,
after all," the master continued, seeing the boy's
countenance fall, "to know a thing itself is of
much greater importance than to know fifty differ-
ent names for it, be they ever so scientific. I sup-
pose you have learned a great deal about this bird,
its characteristics of form and color, its habits, its
food, and its eggs."
I know all that," said Gaspar, brightening
again. I have its eggs, and they are beauties !
Six of them, pure white, about an inch long. I
got them myself, by hard digging with a knife, out
of a hole in a tree as long as my arm- I mean
the hole,'not the tree."
But did n't you feel a little sorry to take away
the eggs from the mother bird ?" Mr. Pike vent-
ured to say, watching the boy's face carefully.
I should have felt worse if I had n't known
she would keep right on and lay more, and hatch
her brood just the same, only somewhat later. I
wanted the eggs for my collection."
Have you a collection ? .I should like to see it."
Would you ? said Gaspar. "Well, I 'd like
to show it to you, if you wont mind the looks of
my room. I am scolded every day in the year for
the litter I keep it in, but I don't see what harm it
does. I '11 show you my collection of bird-skins,
too, if you like." And, as the master replied that
he would like that, too, very much, Gaspar led the
way into the house.

CHAPTER III.

GASPAR'S COLLECTIONS.

MRS. HETH had watched with anxious interest
the school-master and her wayward son talking
together in the yard; but it was not without a feel-

ing of dismay that she saw Gaspar bring in the
visitor, and start with him toward the chamber
stairs.
Gaspar she cried, what are you going to
do ?"
Show my collections," said Gaspar, stiffly.
He wont care for your collections, and, you
know, you keep your room in such a state that I
am positively ashamed to have it seen," remon-
strated the mother.
"Excuse me, I have been in boys' rooms
before," replied the master, "and I have a real
desire to see his collections."
With a face full of apprehension and distress,
the good woman drew back into the sitting-room,
thankful that she had at least prepared him for the
untidy appearance of things, which the most care-
ful and conscientious housekeeping could not per-
manently remedy.
Owing, perhaps, to that forewarning, Mr. Pike,
on entering the chamber, did not appear to notice
at all the oil-spots on the wall-paper, the scattered
feathers and bits of cotton-wool and sticks and
leaves on the carpet, clothing and shoes flung
about, some loose matches on the bed, and a ham-
mer and a handful of nails on a chair. He did not
mean to be surprised at anything; and he was,
perhaps, all the more surprised for that reason.
Gaspar began to open his bureau drawers, the
contents of which accounted for a tumbled heap
of shirts and socks, thrust into a box, which
peeped out from under the bed; all his wearing
apparel having been removed to make space for
the things, which, in his eyes, were of vastly
greater importance. These were his collections;
and it was the order and beauty displayed in their
arrangement, contrasted with-the great disorder
of the room, which surprised the master.
There were eggs of various sizes, from those of
the osprey and the great horned-owl down to those
of the humming-bird and the smallest wren. The
larger eggs were laid side by side. in open paste-
board boxes. For, of course, I could n't bring
home a night-heron's nest, or a fish-hawk's nest,"
Gaspar explained. Guess such rafts of sticks and
limbs would be too much, even for my room! "
Some of the smaller eggs, also, were in boxes.
"For it happens, sometimes, that two or three of
us will discover a rare nest, and, of course, only one
can have it; but we can share the eggs, if it has
more than one."
Most of the eggs, however, were in their native
nests, which were arranged with neatness and taste.
These were of a great variety of size and struct-
ure, from that of the ruby-throated humming-bird,
so diminutive and dainty,-(a soft bunch of the
gathered down of plants, having delicately colored

[MAY,

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

lichens stuck all over it, except in the thimble-like
hollowwhich contained the two pearls of lovely white
eggs) -from that small miracle of bird-architect-
ure, resembling a knot on a limb, to the larger and
coarser nests woven of strings and sticks and hair.

zle to me. There 's one egg in the lower nest,
lighter-colored and much larger than the other
two."
"The nest is the chipping-sparrow's," said Gas-
par; "sometimes called the hair-bird's, because

GASPAR EXHIBITS HIS COLLECTIONS TO MR. PIKE.

Mr. Pike noted these differences with a great
deal of interest, and finally exclaimed:
What's this ? It looks like a sort of two-story
nest, with eggs above and below."
That 's just what it is," replied Gaspar, de-
lighted to see the interest with which the master
regarded his treasures. Do you see through it ?"
"I see through it, in one sense," Mr. Pike
replied; "for the upper story seems to have
been rather hastily constructed. But it's a puz-

it is nearly always lined with horse-hair. The two
small, bluish-green eggs in the lower story are the
bird's own; the larger one is that of a stranger,
the meanest of all birds,-the cow-bunting, which
lays its eggs in the nests of other birds."
"I thought that was the habit of the cuckoo,"
observed the master.
It may be of the European cuckoo," said Gas-
par; I have heard that it is. But our American
cuckoos build nests of their own. Here is one,

x884.1

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

built of twigs and leaves and moss,-the black
billed cuckoo's,-which I found myself."
The master examined the nest, but did not ap-
pear quite convinced.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "Emerson says:

'Yonder masterful cuckoo
Crowds every egg out of the nest,
Quick or dead, except its own.'

"And by 'yonder cuckoo,' an American writer
could hardly have meant a bird across the ocean,
if he knew what he was talking about, as Emerson
generally did."
"But he did n't, if he was talking about our
native cuckoos," Gaspar declared confidently.
The school-master smiled to see this black-eyed
boy brush aside the words of the Concord phi-
losopher with a disdainful gesture. Gaspar went on:
"I 've watched the birds ever so many times;
and don't I know? The cow-bunting is the rogue !
I saw the bird go to this sparrow's nest, when
there were two sparrow eggs in it, and it left that
third egg. But it did n't cr ,vd out the others it
left its own to be hatched wv .h them, and the young
bird to be taken care of by the sparrow, along
with her own young. But what did the sparrow
do ? She saw that it was a strange egg, but did
n't know how to get rid of it; so she set to work
with her mate to build the upper story of the
nest, and got it ready in time to lay her next egg
in it. But they had done their work in too great
a hurry; it was open to criticism, as you see. So
they abandoned it, and I took it for my collection."
It is very curious said the master.
Three drawers contained the nests and eggs.
Gaspar opened a fourth, in which were displayed
the smallest of his bird-skins. Each had the beak
and claws attached, and was wrapped about a slen-
der artificial body of cotton-wool, and laid on its
back. The different specimens of a species the
male and female and young-were ranged side by
side; those of the species nearest akin were placed
next; and so on, through each family, sub-family,
and order. It was a wonderful sight; all were so
beautiful, all so still; not like dead birds, but
rather like birds in a trance or sleep. The larger
birds were ranged in like manner in broad paste-
board boxes.
Do you know all.these species and their eggs ?"
the master inquired.
Oh, of course said Gaspar carelessly. It
took me a long while to learn all the warblers and
their eggs; for there are a great many of them,
and some are very much alike. These are the
warblers," he added, spreading his hands over a
row of the smaller birds; the chestnut-sided, the
blue yellow-backed, the blue-winged yellow, the

blackpoll, the black-throated blue, the Cape May,
the yellow-rumped, the "
"Never mind about the rest! exclaimed the
master. "I am surprised that you should have
studied and collected so many specimens."
"The only way to study them is to collect
them," replied Gaspar. "Now, some folks are
interested in books. But what I am interested in
is birds."
You should be a naturalist," observed the
master.
Oh! that 's what I should like to be! said
the boy, his dark features glowing with enthusi-
asm. But, no,- my folks want to make some-
thing else of me. They think the time I spend
studying birds is 'time thrown away.' I am
'idling'; and I am a 'cruel wretch' because I
take eggs and nests."
But do you not think, yourself, that it is a
great pity to destroy so many eggs and birds ? "
asked the master. You have a beautiful display
here; but do you know what struck me at first ?
Not the beauty, but the pity of it! I am glad I
have seen it, for now I know there is another side
to the question than that of wanton destruction
and cruelty."
Wanton destruction and cruelty cried Gas-
par, his black eyes flashing. I never take a bird
nor an egg that I don't need to complete my collec-
tion. I only get my share, and hardly that. If
you could see the host of real enemies one of
these little sparrows has to dodge and hide away
from before she can make a nest and raise her
brood minks and snakes, and red squirrels, and
weasels, and hawks, and jays, and butcher-birds,
and owls, and cats, and- "
And young collectors," put in the master, in a
quiet tone.
"I own," said Gaspar, "that they are about
the worst enemies that birds have, after all! I don't
mean the real collectors, for I believe they are
the birds' best friends."
I think the true ornithologist is a friend to the
birds, as he must be their lover," the master ad-
mitted. But you know, Gaspar, as well as I do,
that 'collecting' is a mania with boys; innocent
enough when confined to autographs and postage-
stamps, but harmful when it leads to the destruc-
tion of living creatures, with no noble end in view.
How many boys do you know who have begun
collections of birds and eggs that will never have
the least scientific value, but will be neglected and
flung out-of-doors in a year or two ?"
How many ? lots of them !" Gaspar answered,
frankly. But I am not one of 'em."
You go with them, however ?"
"Yes, I go with them sometimes, for their

[MAY,

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

company and help. There's that Pete Cheevy ;
he can climb trees like a squirrel, and I 've some
rare nests I could never have got without his
assistance. By going with me, he has picked up
a lot of eggs and nests; but it 's just waste mate-
rial for such a fellow; all that a collection is to
him is just something to brag of."
"Don't you think it is a great evil, Gaspar?
Where is the law against such things ? inquired
the school-master.
Boys in this town care nothing for the law;
they 're in no danger, as long as there 's nobody
to complain of them. But I wish myself, some-
times, that the law might be enforced,-provided
my father would get me a permit to take birds and
eggs for scientific purposes," the boy hastened to
add.
Are you sure that your purposes are scien-
tific?" the master inquired.
Gaspar looked down thoughtfully at his row of
fly-catchers, smoothed the breasts of the chebec
and the wood pewee in an absent-minded sort of
way,- then suddenly turned his dark eyes on the
master.
What do you think? he asked.
Before answering, Mr. Pike put to him a few
questions as to his methods of preserving the eggs
and birds, or, rather, the shells and skins; and
especially as to the marks by which he distin-
guished species and ascertained the names of birds
new to him.
Gaspar described the process of blowing an egg,
and of curing a skin; then proceeded to deliver
so intelligent and entertaining a lecture upon
beaks and shanks and wing-coverts, mandibles,
larsi and primaries, that Mr. Pike listened with
surprise and pleasure.
Really, Gaspar," he said, you show the zeal
and instinct of a naturalist. I don't wonder you
find the pursuit fascinating. How many more of
our native birds will it take to complete your
collections ?"
I want particularly a scarlet tanager, and a
yellow-billed cuckoo, and five or six more," replied
the boy; "with about as many rare nests and
eggs."
"Now, Gaspar," rejoined the master, "I have
a proposition to make, in your own interest, as
well as that of the birds. SYou must agree with
me that the wholesale destruction of birds and
eggs by boys who have no scientific knowledge of
the subject, and do not aspire to have, ought to
be prohibited."
Yes, sir," Gaspar admitted.
Now, I want you to unite with me in helping
to put a stop to it."
But what how can I? "

"We will get up an interest in the subject
among the townspeople, especially among the
boys ; and, if necessary, we will call the attention
of the proper authorities to it; for the destruction
of the birds, you know, means the destruction of
our forests and orchards and crops by injurious
insects, which our feathered friends help to keep
down. We will see, Gaspar, if we can not get this
useful and humane law enforced."
The boy's face looked gloomy.
In return for what you do," the master con-
tinued, ".1 think I .shall.beable to get you a cer-
tificate from the officers of the Natural History
Society, which will allow you to take birds and
eggs for strictly scientific purposes."
The boy's face brightened.
Now, that is fair, is it not ?" said Mr. Pike, in
a cheery tone.
"Yes-but-I don't know stammered Gas-
par. It will be hard for me to go back on the
fellows who have hunted birds and nests with me
before now."
You need n't 'go back on them', as you say, or
do anything mean and dishonorable. But what is
to prevent your telling them that a movement is
on foot to enforce the law, and that you, for one,
intend to obey the law in future ?"
Gaspar laughed with those bright black eyes
of his.
"They would n't believe me "
"What, have you so bad a reputation as a law-
breaker? I am sorry to hear it! But you can
mend it by mending your practices, and soon teach
the boys that you are in earnest. Now promise me
that you will help on by word and example the
movement I propose, and I promise to get you
the permit."
After some hesitation, Gaspar made the promise.
Mr. Pike gave him his hand.
I am very glad that I have had this talk with
you, Gaspar. And now I am going to tell you
frankly that I really came here to-day to con-
sult with your parents about your entering the
high school."
I knew you did," said Gaspar, rather shame-
facedly.
"And that is the reason why you were, perhaps, a
little short with me as I came in? Well, never mind;
you would have been more courteous, perhaps, if
you had understood me better. I am not going to
urge your parents to send you to school, unless you
see, yourself, that you ought to go. Whatever you
make of yourself in life, you will find a little more
education than you now have extremely useful;
and especially, if you mean to be an ornithologist,
you should acquire a good, liberal, general knowl-
edge, and learn how to describe your observations

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

and discoveries with correctness and force. Think
of it, will you ? Meanwhile, I will talk with your
parents, and help them to abetter understanding of
you and your aims than they now have. Remem-
ber your promise, Gaspar, about the boys and
birds "
Mr. Pike afterward talked again with Mrs. Heth,
and gave her much comfort and encouragement
regarding her son. He lost no time in applying
for the certificate, which he had promised, on his
part; and, when he found that a small fee for it
was required, gladly paid it out of his own pocket.

In the meantime, he became better acquainted with
Gaspar, and had good reason to believe that his
influence might do much toward reforming the boy,
and likewise in preserving the birds of the neigh-
borhood from wanton destruction.
Everything was, in fact, going on favorably when
Gaspar one day suddenly disappeared, disap-
peared as mysteriously and completely as if he had
vanished in air, or had been swallowed up by the
earth.
What strange thing had happened to him will
be told in a future chapter.

(To be continued.)

(/~L

T ar lntageet )orman Dane

-0 !? lo- c dklcett rather VCin;

.'4--K5 obect in lie .hrof me call aim
"'-.:vii -'

Is 1*1IVi up -to Iio noble name,.

D I5pitQ. remark 5 of ill-bred people,

j'He 5if5 I iith care upon thke steeply;
Duty 5 never done nuithoul pain

Explain; p4ntacenel t)orman Dine

/ If

516

SUPPORTING HERSELF.

SUPPORTING HERSELF.

BY ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS.

DEAR GIRLS:
The Editor asks, Will I not talk to her girls ?"
Of course, I will I would rather talk to one girl
than to a planet-full of other people any time.
And she asks, Will I tell them something of what
I think about girls' supporting themselves ?"
There was once an old negro preacher, who
said: "My bredren, if I had all heaven for my
pulpit, and all earth for my congregation, and
all eternity for my Sunday morning de tex I hab
chosen to-day is de tex I'd choose on dat occasion."
And, indeed, if I had the summer lightning for
my magazine columns, and all the girls in North
America for my readers, and the long vacation to
talk in, the text which the editor has given me is
the one I should choose on dat occasion."
Dear Girls, there are just two things to be said
on this large, long, broad question. The first is
only: Do it! The second is only: Do it thor-
oughly And have I no doubt that girls are made
to support themselves ? None in the world. And
am I sure that they can support themselves?
Perfectly sure. And do I believe that they ought to
support themselves ? With belief unspeakable.
But would I have them neglect their parents, and
desert their homes, and be disagreeable to their
brothers, and ruin their health, and spoil their
manners, and never get married ?
Let us begin like the old Chaldeans, and read
those six solemn questions backwards. Never get
married ? By no means if you have no command
of any trade or profession which will enable you to
provide for your family under any of the many ter-
rible epnergencies of sickness, or death, or misfort-
une, or sin, which may throw that provision upon
the woman's hands. By all means get married, if
you love a man enough to face these emergencies
for his sake !
Spoil your manners ? If' a lady is less a lady
for earning her own living, she never was a lady at
all, and her manners are not worth the ink I am
expending upon the mention of them.
Ruin your health? If you are strong enough
to live an idle or frivolous or dependent life, you
have done the hardest work you will ever find
yourself in the way of doing. You could be a
carpenter, with less risk to muscle and nerve and
brain and tissue, than to live the life that many
girls live after leaving school.
Estrange your brothers ? If your brothers
think the less of you for an honest determination

to be able to take care of yourself, they don't de-
serve a good sister, and don't know her when they
see her.
Desert your home? Not so long as Heaven
spares you that blessed thing to cling to Re-
main in it if you may; absent yourself from it if
you must; but keep your heart as true to it as
loyal love can be.
Neglect your parents ? I would rather that
you neglected yourself.
And just here let me say that I understand, and
you understand, and we all understand that some
girls must stay at home and accept a depend-
ent life. So must some boys. To all our sweep-
ing rules we have sharp exceptions. Now and
then, the incompetent father, or the feeble moth-
er, or the erring brothers, or the sad, untold fam-
ily secret demands the devotion of the entire
individual life of some one child. Now and then
the child herself or himself is sorely burdened with
incapacity or disease, which makes even an ac-
quaintance with the means of pursuing an inde-
pendent career a doubtful or an impossible thing,
and the monptony of sheltered, small, home
duties the better, truer life. This happens to
brothers as well as to sisters. It need not happen
because you are a girl. It should happen only
because you are an exceptional girl.
Then, do I think that, as a rule, girls should learn
to provide for themselves ? As a rule, most assuredly!
As a rule, it is honester, safer, nobler, and more
womanly for a woman to be able to care for herself
and for the father, or mother, or brother, or hus-
band, or child, whom a hundred chances may, at
any hour, fling upon her warm heart and brave hand
for protection. As a rule, a girl should make her-
self mistress of some industry, or art, or profession,
or trade, which has a market value in the great
struggle for existence into which God has plunged
this weary world.
As a rule, she can succeed in doing this if she
determine to, and will fail in it if shedoes not.
Girls, first make up your minds that you will be
something! All the rest will follow. What you
shall be comes more easily and clearly in due time.
When you have perfectly and solemnly decided to
be something, your battle is half fought. A young
lady, herself the only self-supporting sister of sev-
eral in a family, poor, proud, and struggling, once
said to me: "I, for one, am sure that, if a girl
wants to command an independent means of live-

SUPPORTING HERSELF.

lihood, she will find out the way." And this, as a
rule, is golden truth. There are exceptional par-
ents, as there are exceptional daughters. But this
you may depend upon, little women if your
whole heart is set upon, and your whole head is
trained for, becoming an elocutionist, or a green-
grocer, or an engraver, or a florist, or a singer,
or a doctor, the chances are that elocutionist, or
green-grocer, or engraver, or florist, or singer, or
doctor you will be. Your mother may forbid you
a whim; she will not disregard a purpose. Your
father may laugh at a notion; he will respect an
enthusiasm. You will not find a friend to encour-
age you in jerky, hysteric, vague attempts to ac-
quire fame without genius, or wealth without labor,
or success without perseverance. You may find for
your unswerving aspiration, and your dogged hard
work, you may find ah, my dear girls I
wish I could say you will find-as many help-
ing hands as your brothers will find. But that is
not yet; perhaps the day will come. Women
must work yet awhile under discouragement such
as only women know. Don't expect the help
your brother gets! Make up your mind to that in
the beginning. I am only saying that, once your
mind is made, you will find help enough to enable
you to keep it in shape; and, after all, that is a
great deal.
Now, the earlier you do this the better. A girl
of thirteen can not decide, to be sure, with any dis-
cretion or any assurance, whether she will be a
sculptor or a wash-woman, a farmer or a poet;
but she can decide distinctly whether it is her
wish or her duty, after leaving school or college,
to. remain dependent upon her parents or to fit
herself for a self-providing life.
The education by.which you mean to get your
bread and butter, your gloves and bonnets is a very
different affair from that which you take upon
yourself as an ornament and an interval in life.
The chemical experiment which you may some
day have to explain to pupils of your own is quite
another thing from the lesson that you may never
think of again. The practice in book-keeping,
which may some time regulate your dealings with
live, flesh-and-blood customers, becomes as inter-
esting as a new story. The dull old rules for
inflection and enunciation fairly turn into poetry,
if you hope to find yourself a great public reader
some coming day. And the very sawdust of the
French or Latin grammar becomes ashes of roses
to the stout little fancy that dreams of brave work
and big salary, in some foreign department at
Washington, or tutoring girls or boys for college.
All over the terrible ocean, among the lawless
sailors, the men with wives and children to work
for, are those who lead the gentlest and cleanest

lives. So, on the great ocean of school-life, the
girls, with aims to study for, are those whose labor
is the richest and the ripest. Ah you will never
realize till you have tried it what an immense power
over the life is the power of possessing distinct aims.
The voice, the dress, the look, the very motions
of a person define and alter when he or she begins
to live for a reason. I fancy that I can select in a
crowded street the busy, blessed women who sup-
port themselves. They carry themselves with an
air of conscious self-respect and self-content which
a shabby alpaca can not hide, nor a Bonnit silk
enhance, nor even sickness or exhaustion quite
drag out.
But, girls, if you don't mean to make a thorough
business of the occupation you have chosen, never,
never, never begin to be occupied at all. Half-
finished work will do for amateurs. It will never
answer for professionals. The bracket you are
sewing for a New Year's present can hang a little
crooked on its screws, and you will be forgiven for
the love's sake found therein by the dear heart
to which you offer it; but the trinket carved for
sale in the Sorrento rooms must be cut as true as
a rose-leaf. You can be a little shaky as to your
German declensions in the Schiller club, which
you join so enthusiastically after leaving school,
and no great harm ever come of it; but teach
Schiller for a living, and for every dative case
forgotten you are so much money out of pocket.
People who pay for a thing demand thorough
workmanship or none. To offer incomplete work
for complete market price, is to be either a
cheat or a beggar. The terrible grinding laws
of supply and demand, pay and receive, give
and get, give no quarter to shilly-shally labor.
The excellence of your intentions is nothing to the
point. The stress of your poverty has not the
slightest connection with the case. An editor
will never pay you for your poem because you
wish to help your mother. No customer will buy
her best bonnet or her wheat flour of you because
you are unable to pay your rent. When you have
entered the world of trade, you have entered a world
where tenderness and charity and personal inter-
est are foreign relations. Not for friendship's
sake," nor for pity's sake," nor "for chivalry's
sake" runs the great rallying-cry of this great
world,-but only "for value received."
It is with sorrow and shame, but yet with hope
and courage, that I write it,-there is reason for
the extensive complaint made by men, that women
do not work thoroughly. I am afraid that, till
time and trouble shall have taught them better,
they will not. Is it because they have never been
trained? Is it because they expect to be married?
That it is not in the least because they can not,

518

[MAY,

SUPPORTING HERSELF.

we know; for we know that some of the most mag-
nificently accurate work in the world has been
done by women.
Now, you who are the girls of to-day, must find
for yourselves, and teach us all a better way.
Make up your minds to work hard and to work
patiently. Don't expect to get the return of skilled
labor for unskilled effort. Remember that, no mat-
ter what you intend to become, you can not avoid
apprentices/zzi. Don't expect, if you bring your edu-
cation to an end at eighteen, to become a teacher or
a preacher, a lawyer or a physician, like your brother
whose preparatory studies last till he is twenty-five.
Don't think you can rush to the art-galleries, and
sell your amateur water-colors in competition with
artists who have given years and years of drudgery
to the handling of their brushes and the culture
of their inspirations. Don't expect The Centzury
Magazine to print your stories till you have
first thrown a great many poor manuscripts into
the fire. If you wish to go into the book-seller's
business, be content to begin by familiarizing your-
self with the backs of libraries. If you aspire to
be a railroad ticket agent (like a few bright women
I have seen), learn your arithmetic lesson keenly,
that you may make quick change for hurried peo-
ple. Be content to begin humbly! Be careful to
labor faithfully Be patient to toil long !
One of the foremost of modern novelists was a
woman-a woman whose patience was as immense

as her fame, and her fame is owing as much to
her patience as to her genius. In her great story
of Daniel Deronda George Eliot puts into the
mouth of a musician addressing a young lady who
has aspirations for the stage, these memorable,
cutting words:

"'You have been brought up in ease,--you have done what you
would,-you have not said to yourself, I must know this exactly,"
" I must understand this exactly," "I must do this exactly." In utter-
ing these three terrible musts, Klesmer lifted up three long fingers in
succession. It seems you have not been called upon to be anything
but a charming young lady whom it is an impoliteness to find fault
with. * You would find, after your education in doing things
slackly, * great difficulties in study. You would besubjected
to tests; people would no longer feign not to see your blunder. You
would at first be accepted only on trial. * Any success must
be won by the utmost patience. You would have to keep your place
in a crowd; and after all, it is likely you would lose it and get out
of sight. If you determine to face these hardships and still try, you
will have the dignity of a high purpose. * You will have
some merit, though you may win no prize.'"

But now I have told you to work, and work
thoroughly. I have n't helped you in the least
to know what to do, or how to do it ?
Why no, my dear girls, I suppose I have n't.
That would take as long as the negro wanted to
take for his sermon. Perhaps some other time, if
you care to hear me, I will talk to you further
about these things. Only believe me to be right
in this: When once your mind is firmly and hope-
fully made up to work, the what and the how will
follow fast enough.

a family wing and Uas.
BEST b '.-
CtT cmnnttlonii5 ...~ r. r i I
D.~ATE-Byan itfief~-~-' e~
WANn, a ee nt
'Ing, aand iii give the Ipib raerences. AMtE0na a.
"L U1, q-w *;~:;
u~
LE 7 -L 1, mlo.

3r! T.V I [A Ca. ,-
_r7cpa ~ T- ~cp

THE PHILOPENA.

THE PHILOPENA.

BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.

THE ABSOLUTE FOOL AND THE LION. (SEE PAGE 524.)

THERE were once a Prince and a Princess who,
when quite young, ate a philopena together.
They agreed that the one who, after sunrise the
next day, should accept anything from the other
-the giver at the same time saying "Philopena!"
--should be the loser, and that the loser should
marry the other.
They did not meet the next day; and at the
time our story begins, many years had elapsed,
and the Prince and the Princess were nearly grown
up. They often thought of the philopena they
had eaten together, and wondered if they should
know each other when they met. He remembered
her as a pretty little girl dressed in green silk and
playing with a snow-white cat; while she remem-
bered him as a handsome boy, wearing a little
sword, the handle of which was covered with
jewels. But both must have changed a great deal
in all this time.
Neither of these young people had any parents;
the Prince lived with guardians and the Princess
with uncles.
The guardians of the Prince were very enter-
prising and energetic men, and were allowed to
govern the country until the Prince came of age.
The capital city was a very fine city when the old
king died; but the guardians thought it might be
much finer, so they set to work with all their might
"\ (P'

and main to improve it. They tore down old
houses and made ever so many new streets; they
built grand and splendid bridges over the river on
which the city stood; they constructed aqueducts
to bring water from streams ever so many miles
away; and they were at work all the time upon
some great building enterprise.
The Prince did not seem to take much interest
in the works which were going on under direc-
tion of his guardians; and when he rode out,
he preferred to go into the country or to ride
through some of the quaint old streets, where
nothing had been changed for hundreds of years.
The uncles'of the Princess were very different
people from the guardians of the Pr'ince. There
were three of them, and they were very quiet and
cozy old men, who disliked any kind of bustle or
disturbance, and wished that everything might
remain as they had always known it. It even
worried them a little to find that the Princess was
growing up. They would have much preferred
that she should remain exactly as she was when
they first took charge of her. Then they never
would have been obliged to worry their minds
about any changes in the way of taking care of
her. But they did not worry their minds very much,
after all. They wished to make her guardianship
as little laborious or exhausting as possible, and

[MAY,

THE PHILOPENA.

so, divided the work; one of them took charge of
her education, another of her food and lodging,
and the third of her dress. The first sent for
teachers, and told them to teach her; the second
had handsome apartments prepared for her use,
and gave orders that she should have everything
she needed to eat and drink; while the third com-
manded that she should have a complete outfit of
new clothes four times a year. Thus everything
went on very-quietly and smoothly; and the three
uncles were not obliged to exhaust themselves by
hard work. There were never any new houses
built, and if anything had to be repaired, it was
done with as little noise and dirt as possible. The
city and the whole kingdom were quiet and serene,
and the three uncles dozed away most of the day
in three great comfortable thrones.
Everybody seemed satisfied with this state of
things except the Princess. She often thought to
herself that nothing would be more delightful than
a little noise and motion, and she wondered if the
whole world were as quiet as the city in which she
lived. At last, she became unable to bear the
dreadful stillness of the place any longer; but she
could think of nothing to do but to go and try to
find the Prince with whom she had eaten a philo-
pena. If she should win, he must marry her; and
then, perhaps, they could settle down in some
place wblrr things would be bright and lively.
So one morning, she put on her white
and mounting her prancing black horse,
rode away from the city. Only one per-
jon saw her go, for nearly all the people
were asleep.
About this time, the Prince made up his
mind that he could no longer stand the din
confusion the everlasting up-setting and
string-up in his native city. He would go
away, and see if he could find the Princess
iith whom he had eaten a philopena. If he
should win, she would be obliged to marry
him; and then, perhaps, they could settle
down in some place where it was quiet and
peaceful. So, on the same morning in which
the Princess rode away, he put on a hand-
some suit of black clothes, and mounting a
gentle white horse, he rode out of the city.
Only one person saw him go; for, even at that
early hour, the people were so busy that little
attention was paid to his movements.
About half-way between these two cities, in a
tall tower which stood upon a hill, there lived an
Inquisitive Dwarf, whose whole object in life was
to find out what people were doing and why they
did it. From the top of this tower he generally
managed to see all that was going on in the sur-
rounding country; and in each of the two cities
VOL. XI.--34.

that have been mentioned he had an agent, whose
duty it was to send him word, by means of carrier
pigeons, whenever a new thing happened. Before
breakfast, on the morning when the Prince and
Princess rode away, a pigeon from the city of the
Prince came flying to the tower of the Inquisitive
Dwarf.
Some new building started, I suppose," said
the Dwarf, as he took the paper from the pigeon.
"But no; it is very different The Prince has rid-
den away from the city alone, and is traveling to
the north.'"
But before he could begin to puzzle his brains
about the meaning of this departure, another pigeon
came flying in from the city of the Princess.
"Well cried the Dwarf, "this is amazing!
It is a long time since I have had a message from
that city, and my agent has been drawing his
salary without doing any work. What possibly
can have happened there ? "
When he read that the Princess had ridden
alone from the city that morning, and was traveling
to the south, he was truly amazed.
What on earth can it mean ?" he exclaimed.
" If the city of the Prince were to the south of
that of the Princess, then I might understand it;
for they would be going to see each other, and that
would be natural enough. But as his city is to the
north of her city, they are traveling in opposite
directions. And what is the meaning of this? I
must most certainly find out."

THE PRINCE AND THE PRINCESS EAT A PHILOPENA.

The Inquisitive Dwarf had three servants whom
he employed to attend to his most important busi-
ness. These were a Gorgoness, a Water Sprite,
and an Absolute Fool. This last one was very
valuable; for there were some things he would do
which no one else would think of attempting.
The Dwarf called to him the Gorgoness, the oldest
and most discreet of the three, and told her of the
departure of the Princess.
Hasten southward," he said, "as fast as you

THE PHILOPENA.

can, and follow her, and do not return to me until
you have found out why she left her city, where
she is going, and what she expects to do when she
gets there. Your appearance may frighten her;
and, therefore, you must take with you the Abso-
lute Fool, to whom she will probably be willing to
talk; but you must see that everything is managed
properly."
Having dispatched these two, the Inquisitive
Dwarf then called the Water Sprite, who was sing-
ing to herself at the edge of a fountain, and telling
her of the departure of the Prince, ordered her
to follow him, and not to return until she had found
out why he left his city, where he was going, and
what he intended to do when he got there.
"The road to the north," he said, "lies along
the river bank; therefore, you can easily keep him
company."
The Water Sprite bowed, and dancing over the
dewy grass to the river, threw herself into it. Some-
times she swam beneath the clear water; some-
times she rose partly in the air, where she seemed
like a little cloud of sparkling mist borne onward
by the wind; and sometimes she floated upon the
surface, her pale blue robes undulating with the
gentle waves, while her white hands and feet shone
in the sun like tiny crests of foam. Thus, singing
to herself, she went joyously and rapidly on, aided
by a full, strong wind from the south. She did
not forget to glance every now and then upon the
road which ran along the river bank; and, in the
course of the morning, she perceived the Prince.
He was sitting in the shade of a tree near the
water's edge, while his gentle white horse was
grazing near by.
The Water Sprite came very gently out of the
river, and seating herself upon the edge of a grassy
bank, she spoke to him. The Prince looked up in
astonishment, but there was nothing in her appear-
ance to frighten him.
"I came," said the Water Sprite, "at the com-
mand of my master, to ask you why you left your
city, where you are going, and what you intend to
do when you get there."
The Prince then told her why he had left his
city, and what he intended to do when he had
found the Princess.
"But where I am going," he said, "I do not
know, myself. I must travel and travel until I suc-
ceed in the object of my search."
The Water Sprite reflected for a moment, and
then she said:
"If I were you, I would not travel to the north.
It is cold and dreary there, and your Princess
would not dwell in such a region. A little above
us, on the other side of this river, there is a stream
which runs sometimes to the east and sometimes

to the south, and which leads to the Land of the
Lovely Lakes. This is the most beautiful country
in the world, and you will be much more likely to
find your Princess there than among the desolate
mountains of the north."
"I dare say you are right," said the Prince;
"and I will go there, if you will show me the
way."
"The road runs along the bank of the river,"
said the Water Sprite; and we shall soon reach
the Land of the Lovely Lakes."
The Prince then mounted his horse, forded the
river, and was soon riding along the bank of the
stream, while the Water Sprite gayly floated upon
its dancing ripples.

When the Gorgoness started southward, in pur-
suit of the Princess, she kept out of sight among
the bushes by the roadside; but sped swiftly along.
The Absolute Fool, however, mounted upon a
good horse, rode boldly on the road. He was
a good-looking youth, with rosy cheeks, bright
eyes, and a handsome figure. As he cantered
gayly along, he felt himself capable of every noble
action which the human mind has ever conceived.
The Gorgoness kept near him, and in the course
of the morning they overtook the Princess, who
was allowing her horse to walk in the shade by the
roadside. The Absolute Fool dashed up to her,
and, taking off his hat, asked her why she had left
her city, where she was going, and what she
intended to do when she got there.
The Princess looked at him in surprise. I
left my city because I wanted to," she said. I
am going about my business, and when I get to
the proper place, I will attend to it."
Oh, said the Absolute Fool, "you refuse me
your confidence, do you ? But allow me to remark
that I have a Gorgoness with me who is very
frightful to look at, and whom it was my intention
to keep in the bushes; but if you will not give fair
answers to my questions, she must come out and
talk to you, and that is all there is about it."
If there is a Gorgoness in the bushes," said
the Princess, "let her come out. No matter how
frightful she is, I would rather she should come
where I can see her, than to have her hiding near
me."
The Gorgoness, who had heard these words,
now came out into the road. The horse of the
Princess reared in affright, but his young rider
patted him on the neck, and quieted his fears.
"What do you and this young man want?"
said the Princess to the Gorgoness, "and why do
you question me ? "
It is not of our own will that we do it," said
the Gorgoness, very respectfully; but our master,

[MAY,

THE PHILOPENA.

the Inquisitive Dwarf, has sent us to obtain infor-
mation about the points on which the young man
questioned you; afd until we have found out these
things, it is impossible for us to return."
I am opposed to answering impertinent ques-
tions," replied the Princess; but in order to rid
myself of you, I will tell you the reason of my

report to you to-morrow morning. And if you
should need help, or escort, he will aid and obey
you as your servant. As for me, unless we find
the Prince, I shall continue searching for him.
There is a prince in the city to the north of my
master's tower, and it is not unlikely that it is he
whom you seek."

iglgg,;" ... .. :""
; K;
.*''( i -.; ' r':i'' ... --" . "

te ... : -, . : . . ^ ? -.... , ,, ,
,,, ,.
THE W. Do ,.TE ,OEY,
',,^ ." o : .!'-__.-- .-.

" 1^ .,^.':; "^ :^ " "' ?^(
,H W SPIT IET TE ,RICE TO ,E ..
', -- ,':" ' v

THE WATER SPEITE DIRECTS THE PRINCE TO THE LAND OF THE LOVELY LAKES.

journey." And she then stated briefly the facts
of the case.
"Ah, me !" said the Gorgoness; "I am very
sorry; but you can not tell us where you are going,
and we can not return until we know that. But
you need not desire to be rid of us, for it may be
that we can assist you in the object of your journey.
This young man is sometimes very useful, and I
shall be glad to do anything that I can to help
you. If you should think that I would injure you,
or willingly annoy you by my presence, it would
grieve me to the .heart." And as she spoke, a
tear bedimmed her eye.
The Princess was touched by the emotion of the
Gorgoness.
"You may accompany me," she said, "and I
will trust you both. You must know this country
better than I do. Have you any advice to give me
in regard to my journey ? "
One thing I would strongly advise," said the
Gorgoness, and that is, that you do not travel
any further until we know in what direction it will
be best to go. There is an inn close by, kept by
a worthy woman. If you will stop there until
to-morrow, this young man and I will scour the
country 'round about, and try to find some news
of your Prince. The young man will return and

"You can find out if it is he," answered the
Princess, "by asking about the philopena."
"That will I do," said the Gorgoness, and I
will return hither as speedily as possible." And,
with a respectful salutation, the Gorgoness and
the Absolute Fool departed by different ways.
The Princess then repaired to the inn, where
she took lodgings.
The next morning, the Absolute Fool came back
to the inn, and seeing the Princess, said : I rode
until long after night-fall, searching for the Prince,
before it occurred to me that, even if I should find
him, I would not know him in the dark. As soon
as I thought of that, I rode straight to the nearest
house, and slept till daybreak, when I remembered
that I was to report to you this morning. But as I
have heard no news of the Prince, and as this is a
beautiful, clear day, I think it would be extremely
foolish to remain idly here, where there is nothing
of interest going on, and when a single hour's
delay may cause you to miss the object of your
search. The Prince may be in one place this
morning, and there is no knowing where he will
be in the afternoon. While the Gorgoness is
searching, we should search also. We can return
before sunset, and we will leave word here as to
the direction we have taken, so that when she

1884.]

THE PHILOPENA.

returns, she can quickly overtake us. It is my
opinion that not a moment should be lost. I will
be your guide. I know this country well."
The Princess thought this sounded like good
reasoning, and consented to set out. There were
some beautiful mountains to the south-east; and
among these, the Absolute Fool declared, a prince
of good taste would be very apt to dwell. They,
therefore, took this direction. But when they had
traveled an hour or more, the mountains began to
look bare and bleak, and the Absolute Fool de-
clared that he did not believe any prince would
live there. He therefore advised that they turn
into a road that led to the north-east. It was a
good road; and therefore he thought it led to a
good place, where a person of good sense would
be likely to reside. Along this road they therefore
traveled. They had ridden but a few miles when
they met three men, well armed and mounted.
These men drew up their horses, and respectfully
saluted the Princess.
"High-born Lady," they said, "for by your
aspect we know you to be such, we would inform
you that we are the soldiers of the King, the out-
skirts of whose dominions you have reached. It
is our duty to question all travelers, and, if their
object in coming to our country is a good one, to
give them whatever assistance and information
they may require. Will you tell us why you
come ?"
Impertinent vassals !" cried the Absolute Fool,
riding up in a great passion. How dare you in-
terfere with a princess who has left her city
because it was so dull and stupid, and is endeav-
oring to find a prince, with whom she has eaten a
philopena, in order that she may marry him. Out
of my way, or I will draw my sword and cleave you
to the earth, and thus punish your unwarrantable
curiosity "
ThI.- .i ldel s could not repress a smile.
In order to prevent mischief," they said to the
Absolute Fool, "we shall be obliged to take you
into custody."
This they immediately did, and then requested
the Princess to accompany them to the palace of
their King, where she would receive hospitality
and aid.
The King welcomed the Princess with great
cordiality. He had no prince of his own, and he
was very sorry that he had not; for, in that case,
he would hope that he might be the person for
whom she was looking. But there was a prince,
who lived in a city to the north, who was probably
the very man; and he would send and make
inquiries. In the meantime, the Princess would
be entertained by himself and his Queen; and, if
her servant would make a suitable apology, his

violent language would be pardoned. But the
Absolute Fool positively refused to do this.
"I never apologize," he cried. "No man of
spirit would do such a thing. What I say, I stand
by."
Very well," said the King; "then you shall
fight a Wild beast." And he gave orders that the
affair should be arranged for the following day.
In a short time, however, some of his officers
came to him and told him that there were no wild
beasts; those on hand having been kept so long
that they had become tame.
To be sure, there's the old lion, Sardon," they
said; but he is so dreadfully cross and has had so
much experience in these fights, that for a long
time it has n't been considered fair to allow any
one to enter the ring with him."
"It is a pity," said the King, "to make the
young man fight a tame beast; but, under the
circumstances, the best thing to do will be to rep-
resent the case to him, just as it is. Tell him we
are sorry we have not an ordinary wild beast; but
that he can take his choice between a tame one
and the lion Sardon, whose disposition and ex-
perience you will explain to him."
When the matter was stated to the Absolute
Fool, he refused with great scorn to fight a tame
beast.
I will not be degraded in the eyes of the pub-
lic," he said; I will take the old lion."
The next day, the court and the public assembled
to see the fight; but the Queen and our Princess
took a ride into the country, not wishing to witness
a combat of this kind, especially one which was so
unequal. The King ordered that every advantage
should be given to the young man, in order that
he might have every possible chance of success in
fighting an animal which had been a victor on so
many similar occasions. A large iron cage, fur-
nished with a turnstile, into which the Absolute
Fool could retire for rest and refreshment, but
where the lion could not follow him, was placed in
the middle of the arena, and the youth was fur-
nished with all the weapons he desired. When all
was ready, the Absolute Fool took his stand in
the center of the arena, and the door of the lion's
den was opened. When the great beast came out, he
looked about for an instant, and then, with majestic
step, advanced toward the young man. When he
was within a few paces of him, he crouched for a
spring.
The Absolute Fool had never seen so mag-
nificent a creature, and he could not restrain his
admiration. With folded arms and sparkling eyes,
he gazed with delight upon the lion's massive
head, his long and flowing mane, his magnifi-
cent muscles, and his powerful feet and legs.

THE PHILOPENA.

There was an air of grandeur and strength about
him which completely enraptured the youth. Ap-
proaching the lion; he knelt before him, and gazed
with wondering ecstasy into his great, glowing
eyes. "What glorious orbs! he inwardly ex-
claimed. "What unfathomable expression! What
possibilities What reminiscences And every-
where, what majesty of curve "

peared, for he was as much delighted as any one
at the victory of the young man.
Noble youth," he exclaimed, "you are the
bravest of the brave. You are the only man I
know who is worthy of our royal daughter, and
you shall marry her forthwith. Long since, I
vowed that only with the bravest should she wed."
At this moment, the Queen and the Princess,

Ir

~ i -

"THEY MET THREE MEN, WELL ARMED AND MOUNTED."

The lion was a good deal astonished at the con-
duct of the young man; and he soon began to
suppose that this was not the person he was to
fight, but probably a keeper, who was examining
into his condition. After submitting to this
scrutiny a few minutes, he gave a mighty yawn,
which startled the spectators, but which delighted
the Absolute Fool; for never before had he beheld
such dazzling teeth, such immensity of expression.
He knelt in silent delight at this exhibition of the
beauty of strength.
Old Sardon soon became tired of all this, how-
ever, and he turned and walked back to his den.
" When their man is ready," he thought to hi-n-
self, I will come out and fight him."
One tremendous shout now arose from the mul-
titude. The youth has conquered they cried.
"He has actually frightened the lion back into his
den!" Rushing into the arena, they raised the
Absolute Fool upon their shoulders and carried
him in triumph to the open square in front of the
palace, that he might be rewarded for his bravery.
Here the King, .followed by his court, quickly ap-

returning from their ride, heard with joy the result
of the combat; and riding up to the victor, the
Queen declared that she would gladly join with
her royal husband in giving their daughter to so
brave a man.
The Absolute Fool stood for a moment in silent
thought; then, addressing the King, he said:
"Was Your Majesty's father a king ?"
He was," was the answer.
Was his father of royal blood ? "
"No; he was not," replied the King. My
grandfather was a man of the people; but his pre-
eminent virtue, his great ability as a statesman,
and the dignity and nobility of his character made
him the unanimous choice of the nation as its
sovereign."
"I am sorry to hear that," said the Absolute
Fool; for it makes it necessary for me to decline
the kind offer of your daughter in marriage. If I
marry a princess at all, she must be one who can
trace back her lineage through a long line of royal
ancestors." And as he spoke, his breast swelled
with manly pride.

THE PHILOPENA.

For a moment, the King was dumb with rage.
Then loudly he shouted: Ho, guards! Annihi-
late him Avenge this insult! "
At these words, the sword of every by-stander
leaped from its scabbard; but, before any one could
take a step forward, the Princess seized the Abso-
lute Fool by his. long and flowing locks, and put
spurs to her horse. The young man yelled with
pain, and shouted to her to let go; but she held
firmly to his hair, and as he was extraordinarily
active and fleet of foot, he kept pace with the gal-
loping horse. A great crowd of people started in
pursuit, but as none of them were mounted, they
were soon left behind.
Let go my hair Let go my hair shouted
the Absolute Fool, as he bounded along. You
don't know how it hurts. Let go Let go !"
But the Princess never relinquished her hold
until they were out of the King's domain.
"A little more," cried the indignant youth,
when she let him go, and you would have pulled
out a handful of my hair."
"Alittle less," said the Princess, contemptuously,
"and you would have been cut to pieces; for you
have not sense enough to take care of yourself.
I am sorry I listened to you, and left the inn to
which the Gorgoness took me. It would have been
far better to have waited there for her as she told
me to do."
Yes," said the Absolute Fool; it would have
been much better."
"Now," said the Princess, "we will go back
there, and see if she has returned."
"If we can find it," said the other, "which I
very much doubt."
There were several roads at this point and, of
course, they took the wrong one. As they went
on, the Absolute Fool complained bitterly that he
had left his horse behind him, and was obliged to
walk. Sometimes he stopped, and said he would
go back after it; but this the Princess sternly
forbade.

When the Gorgoness reached the city of the
Prince, it was night; but she was not sorry for this.
She did not like to show herself much in the day-
time, because so many people were frightened by
her. After a good deal of trouble, she discovered
that the Prince had certainly left the cify, although
his guardians did not seem to be aware of it. They
were so busy with a new palace, in part of which
they were living, that they could not be expected
to keep a constant eye upon him. In the morning,
she met an old man who knew her, and was not
afraid of her, and who told her that the day before,
when he was up the river, he had seen the Prince
on his white horse, riding on the bank of the

stream; and that near him, in the water, was
something which now looked like a woman, and
again like a puff of mist. The Gorgoness reflected.
If the Prince has gone off in that way," she-
said to herself, I believe that he is the very one
whom the Princess is looking for, and that he has
set out in search of her; and that creature in the.
water must be our Water Sprite, whom our master
has probably sent out to discover where the Prince
is going. If he had told me about this, it would
have saved much trouble. From the direction in
which they were going, I feel sure that the Water
Sprite was taking the Prince to the Land of the
Lovely Lakes. She never fails to go there, if she
can possibly get an excuse. I '11 follow them. I
suppose the Princess will be tired, waiting at the
inn; but I must know where the Prince is, and if
he is really her Prince, before I go back to her."
When the Gorgoness reached the Land of the
Lovely Lakes, she wandered all that day and the
next night; but she saw nothing of those forwhom
she was looking.

The Princess and the Absolute Fool journeyed on
until near the close of the afternoon, when the sky
began to be overcast, and it looked like rain. They
were then not far from a large piece of water; and
at a little distance, they saw a ship moored near the
shore.
"I shall seek shelter on board that ship," said
the Princess.
It is going to storm," remarked the Absolute
Fool. "I should prefer to be on dry land."
As the land is not likely to be very dry when
it rains," said the Princess, "I prefer a shelter,
even if it is upon wet water."
"Women will always have their own way,"
muttered the Absolute Fool.
The ship belonged to a crew of Amazon sailors,
who gave the Princess a hearty welcome.
"You may go on board if you choose," said
the Absolute Fool to the Princess, "but I shall not
risk my life in a ship manned by women."
You are quite right," said the Captain of the
Amazons, who had heard this remark; "for you
would not be allowed to come on board if you
wanted to. But we will give you a tent to protect
you and the horse in case it should rain, and will
send you something to eat."
While the Princess was taking tea with the
Amazon Captain, she told her about the Prince,
and how she was trying to find him.
"Good!" cried the Captain. "I will join in
the search, and take you in my ship. Some of my
crew told me that yesterday they saw a young man,
who looked like a prince, riding along the shore
of the lake which adjoins the one we are on. In

526

[MAY,

THE PHILOPENA.

the morning we will sail after him. We shall keep
near the shore, and your servant can mount your
horse and ride along the edge of the lake. From
what I know of the speed of this vessel, I think he
can easily keep up with us."
Early in the morning, the Amazon Captain called
her crew together. Hurrah, my brave girls! she
said. We have an object. I never sail without
an object, and it delights me to get one. The
purpose of our present cruise is to find the Prince
of whom this Princess is in search; and we must
spare no pains to bring him to her, dead or alive."
Luckily for her peace of mind, the Princess did
not hear this speech. The day was a fine one, and
before long the sun became very hot. The ship
was sailing quite near the land, when the Absolute
Fool rode down to the water's edge, and called
out that he had something very important to com-
municate to the Princcss. As he was not allowed
to come on board, she was obliged to go on shore,
to which she was rowed in a small boat.
I have been thinking," said the Absolute Fool,
"that it is perfectly ridiculous, and very uncom-
fortable, to continue this search any longer. I
would go back, but my master would not suffer me
to return without knowing where you are going.
I have, therefore, a plan to propose. Give up your
useless search for this Prince, who is probably not
nearly so handsome and intellectual as I am, and
marry me. We will then return, and I will assume
the reins of government in your domain."
Follow the vessel," said the Princess, as you
have been doing; for I wish some one to take care
of my horse." And without another word, she
returned to the ship.
I should like to sail as far as possible from
shore the rest of the trip," said she to the Captain.
"Put the helm bias!" shouted the Amazon
Captain to the steers-woman; and keep him well
out from land."
When they had sailed through a small stream
into the lake adjoining, the look-out, who was
swinging in a hammock hung between the tops
of the two masts, sang out, "Prince ahead!"
Instantly all was activity on board the vessel.
Story books were tucked under coils of rope, hem-
stitching and embroidery were laid aside, and
every woman was at her post.
"The Princess is taking a nap," said the Cap-
tain, "and we will not awaken her. It will be so
nice to surprise her by bringing the Prince to her.
We will run our vessel ashore, and then steal
quietly upon him. But do not let him get away.
Cut him down, if he resists "
The Prince, who was plainly visible only a short
distance ahead, was so. pleasantly employed that
he had not noticed the approach of the ship. He

was sitting upon a low, moss-covered rock, close
to the water's edge; and with a small hand net,
which he had found on the shore, he was scooping
the most beautiful fishes from the lake, holding
them up in the sunlight to admire their brilliant
colors and graceful forms, and then returning them
uninjured to the water. The Water Sprite was
swimming near him, and calling to the fish to come
up and be caught; for the gentle Prince would not
hurt them. It was very delightful and rare sport,
and it is not surprising that it entirely engrossed
the attention of the Prince. The Amazons silently
landed, and softly stole along the shore, a little
back from the water. Then, at their Captain's
command, they rushed upon the Prince.
It was just about this time that the Gorgoness,
who had been searching for the Prince, caught her
first sight of him. Perceiving, before he knew it
himself, that he was about to be attacked, she
rushed to his aid. The Amazon sailors reached
him before she did, and seizing upon him they
began to pull him away. The Prince resisted
stoutly; but perceiving that his assailants were
women, he would not draw his sword. The
Amazon Captain and mate, who were armed with
broad knives, now raised their weapons, and called
upon the Prince to surrender or die. But at this
moment, the Gorgoness reached the spot, and
catching the Captain and mate, each by an arm,
she dragged them back from the Prince. The
other Amazons, however, continued the combat;
and the Prince defended himself by pushing them
into the shallow water, where the Water Sprite
nearly stifled them by throwing over them showers
of spray. And now came riding up the Absolute
Fool. Seeing a youth engaged in combat with
the Amazon sailors, his blood boiled with indig-
nation.
"A man fighting women!" he exclaimed.
"What a coward! My arm shall ever assist the
weaker sex."
Jumping from the horse, he drew his sword, and
rushed upon the Prince. The Gorgoness saw the
danger of the latter, and she would have thrown
herself between him and his new assailant, but
she was afraid to loosen her hold of the Amazon
Captain and mate. But a thought struck her just
in time, and in a loud voice she called out:
Caterpillar !"
"Where? exclaimed the Absolute Fool, stop-
ping short.
On your neck," cried the Gorgoness.
With a look of horror on his features, the Abso-
lute Fool dropped his sword and began to look
for the caterpillar. The Prince had perceived the
approach of the Absolute Fool; and now, having
freed himself from the Amazons, he drew his sword,

THE PHILOPENA.

feeling glad to have a man to fight; for although
of so gentle a disposition, he was a brave fellow.
But when he saw that the other had dropped
his weapon, he would not wound him with his
sword, but contented himself with pommeling him
with the flat of the blade.
",Begone!" cried the Prince. "It is bad
enough to be attacked by a crowd of women, but
I will not allow myself to be assaulted without
reason by a man."
"Stop that! Stop that! cried the Absolute
Fool, as he retreated before the Prince. "Wait
till I find this caterpillar, and then I will show you
what I can do."
By this time the two had nearly reached the
place where the ship was moored, and the Princess,
who had been awakened by the noise of the com-
bat, appeared upon the deck of the vessel. The
moment she saw the Prince, she felt convinced
that he was certainly the one for whom she was
looking. Fearing that the Absolute Fool, whom
she knew to be very strong and active, might turn
upon him and kill him, she sprang from the ves-
sel to his assistance; but her foot caught in a
rope, and, instead of reaching the shore, she
fell into the water, which was here quite deep,
and immediately sank out of sight. The Prince,
who had noticed her just as she sprang, and who
felt equally convinced that she was the one for
whom he was searching, dropped his sword and
rushed to the edge of the bank. Just as the
Princess rose to the surface, he reached out his
hand to her, and she took it.
Philopena cried the Prince.
You have won," said the Princess, gayly shak-
ing the water from her curls, as he drew her
ashore.
Within an hour, the Prince and Princess, after
taking kind leave of the Gorgoness, and Water
Sprite, and of the Amazon sailors, who cheered
them loudly, rode away to the city of the Prin-
cess; while the three servants of the Inquisitive
Dwarf returned to their master to report what had
happened.
The Absolute Fool was in a very bad humor;
for he was obliged to return on foot, having left
his horse in the kingdom where he had so nar-
rowly escaped being killed; and, besides this, he
had had his hair pulled, and had been beaten,
and the Princess had not treated him with proper
respect. He felt himself deeply injured. When
he reached home, he determined that he would

not remain in a position where his great abilities
were so little appreciated. I will do something,"
he said, "which shall prove to the world that I
deserve to stand among the truly great. I will
reform my fellow beings, and I will begin by re-
forming the Inquisitive Dwarf." Thereupon he
went to his master, and said :
Sir, it is foolish and absurd for you to be med-
dling thus with the affairs of your neighbors.
Give up your inquisitive habits, and learn some
useful business. While you are doing this, I will'
consent to manage your affairs."
The Inquisitive Dwarf turned to him, and said:
" I have a great desire to know the exact appear-
ance of the North Pole. Go and discover it for
me."
The Absolute Fool departed on this mission,
and has not yet returned.
When the Princess, with her Prince, reached
her city, her uncles were very much amazed; for
they had not known she had gone away. "If you
are going to get married," they said, "we are
very glad; for then you will not need our care,
and we shall be free from the great responsibility
which is bearing us down."
In a short time the wedding took place, and
then the question arose in which city should the
young couple dwell. The Princess decided it.
In the winter," she said to the Prince, "we
will live in your city, where all is life and activity;
and where the houses are so well built with all the
latest improvements. In the summer, we will come
to my city, where everything is old, and shady,
and serene." This.they did, and were very happy.
The Gorgoness would have been glad to go and
live with the Princess, for she had taken a great
fancy to her; but she did not think it worth her
while to ask permission to do this.
My impulses, I know, are good," she said;
"but my appearance is against me."
As for the Water Sprite, she was in a truly dis-
consolate mood, because she had left so soon the
Land of the Lovely Lakes, where she had been so
happy. The more she thought about it, the more
she grieved; and one morning, unable to bear
her sorrow longer, she sprang into the great jet of
the fountain. High into the bright air the fount-
ain threw her, scattering her into a thousand drops
of glittering water; but not one drop fell back
into the basin. The great, warm sun drew them
up; and, in a little white cloud, they floated away
across the bright blue sky.

[MAY,

JINGLE.

WORDS INCLINED TO JINGLE.

~V. ;

Fla
GaWbif

Fo~t!

ROSY SNOW.

BY HELEN GRAY CONE.

RosY snow on the roofs in the morning;
Drifts in the hollows, by wild winds curled;
Bells on the beaten road chime away cheeringly-
O the great white world !
Brown little sparrows on twigs bare and red,
You shall have crumbs both of cake and of bread-
I will remember you, flitting unfearingly
Out in the great white world I

Rosy snow on the orchard this morning !
Faint-flushed blossoms with crisp edges curled;
Soft-floating petals by blithe breezes flung to me-
O the sweet white world
Young whistling robin with round ruddy breast,
I '11 never touch your blue eggs in the nest;
I will remember the welcome you 've sung to me
Out in the sweet white world !

THE LAND OF FIRE.

A PICNIC.

THE LAND OF FIRE.
A Tale ofAdventure in Tierra del Fuego.

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.

CHAPTER XX.

GONE BACK TO BARBARISM.

THE renewal of acquaintance, under circum-
stances so extraordinary as those detailed in the
previous chapter, calls for explanation; for although
the incident may appear strange, and even improb-
able, it is, nevertheless, quite reasonable. How it
came about will be learned from the following re-
lation of facts :
In the year 1838, the English Admiral Fitzroy,
-then Captain Fitzroy,-while in command of
H. M. S. "Beagle," engaged in the survey of
Tierra del Fuego, had one of his boats stolen by
the natives of Christmas Sound. Pursuing the
thieves, he made capture of a number of their rel-
atives, but unfortunately not of the actual culprits.
For a time he held the captives as hostages, hoping
by that means to effect the return of the boat.
Disappointed in this, however, he at length re-
leased them all, except three, who voluntarily re-
mained on board the Beagle."
These were two young men and a little girl;
and all of them were soon after baptized by the
sailors. One of the men had the name "Boat
Memory" bestowed upon him, because he had
been taken at the place where the boat was stolen.

The other was christened York Minster," after a
remarkable mountain, bearing a fancied resem-
blance to the famed cathedral of York, near which
he was captured. "Fuegia Basket," as the girl
was called, was named from the wicker-work
craft that the crew of the stolen boat had im-
provised to carry them back to their ship.
Later on, the commander of the "Beagle,"
while exploring the channel which now bears his
ship's name, picked up another native of a different
tribe. This was a young boy, who was bought of
his own uncle for a button-his unnatural relative
freely parting with him at the price The trans-
action suggested the name given him, "Jemmy
Button."
Returning soon after to England, Fitzroy, with
truly philanthropic motives, took the four Fuegians
along with him. His intentions were to have them
educated and Christianized, and then restored to
their native country, in hopes that they might do
something toward civilizing it. In pursuance of
this plan, three of the Fuegians were put to
school; the fourth, "Boat Memory," having died
soon after landing at Plymouth.
When Captain Fitzroy thought their training
sufficiently advanced for his purpose, this humane
officer, at his own expense, chartered a vessel to
convey them back to Tierra del Fuego, intending

530

[MAY,

THE LAND OF FIRE.

to accompany them himself; and he did this, al-
though a poor man, and no longer commanding a
ship in commission; the "Beagle," meanwhile,
having been dismantled and laid up.
By good fortune, however, Captain Fitzroy was
spared this part of the expense. The survey of
Tierra del Fuego and adjacent coasts had not been
completed, and another expedition was sent out
by the British Admiralty, and the command of it
entrusted to him. So, proceeding thither in his
old ship, the Beagle," once more in commission,
he carried his Fuegian iroteiges along.
There went with him, also, a man then little
known, but now of world-wide and universal
fame, a young naturalist named Darwin- Charles
Darwin he who for the last quarter of a century,
and till his death, has held highest rank among
men of science, and has truly deserved the dis-
tinction.
"York Minster," Jemmy Button," and Fue-
gia Basket" (in their own country called respectively
Eleparu, Orundelico, and Ocushlu) were the three
odd-looking individuals that Ned and Henry had
rescued from the wharf-rats of Portsmouth, as de-
scribed at the beginning of our story; while the
officer who appeared on the scene was Fitzroy
himself, then on the way to Plymouth, where the
"Beagle," fitted out and ready to put to sea, was
awaiting him.
In due time, arriving in Tierra del Fuego, the
three natives were left there, with every provision
made for their future subsistence. They had all
the means and appliances to assist them in carry-
out Captain Fitzroy's humane scheme; carpen-
tering tools, agricultural implements, and a supply
of seeds, with which to make a beginning. '
Since then nearly four years have elapsed, and
lo the result. Perhaps never were good inten-
tions more thoroughly brought to naught, nor
clearer proofs given of their frustration, than these
that Henry Chester and Ned Gancy have now be-
fore their eyes. Though unacquainted with most of
the above details, they see a man, but half-clothed,
his hair in matted tangle, his skin besmeared with
dirt and blubber; in everything and to all appear-
ances as rude a savage as any Fuegian around
him, who is yet the same man they had once seen
wearing the garb and having the manners of civili-
zation They see a girl, too,- now woman-grown,
--in whom the change, though less extreme, is
still strikingly, sadly for the worse. In both, the
transformation is so complete, so retrograde, so
contrary to all experience, that they can scarcely

realize it. It is difficult to believe that an), nature,
however savage, after such pains has been taken
to civilize it, could so return to itself! It seems a
very perversity of backsliding 1
But this is not a time for the two young men
to inquire into the causes of the change, nor might
that be a pleasant subject to those who have thus
relapsed; so Ned and Henry refrain from appear-
ing even to notice it. They are too overjoyed in
knowing that they and their companions are no
longer in danger to care greatly f6r anything else.
Of their safety they have full and instant assur-
ance, by the behavior of Eleparu, who has taken
in the situation at a glance. Apparently head of
the community, with a shout and authoritative
wave of the hand he sends off those who so lately
had threatened to attack them. But all seem
friendly enough, now that they see him so; and
having, indeed, no reason to be otherwise. Hunger,
chiefly, had made them hostile; and now they
need not be hungry for a long time.
Accordingly, they at once set about appeasing
their appetites with the grand store, which must
provide them for days and even weeks. On this
account, no indiscriminate grabbing is allowed;
but Annaqua, with another of the old men, pro-
ceeds to serve out the blubber in equal rations,-
first cutting it into strips, like strings of sausages;
then measuring off different-sized pieces, according
to the ages of the recipients.
Strange to say, notwithstanding the keen hunger
of those seeking relief, not one of them touches a
morsel till the partition is complete and each has
his share. Then, as at a given signal, they fall
to, after holding the blubber a second or two near
the blaze of the fire.
During these unpleasant proceedings, mutual ex-
planations are exchanged between Eleparu and
the two young men of his former brief but memo-
rable acquaintance. He first inquires how they
come to be there ; then tells, his own story, or such
part of it as he desires them to know. They learn
from him that Ocushlu is now his wife; but when
questioned about the boy, and what has become
of him, he shows reserve, answering :
"Oh, 'Jemmy Button'--he not of our people;
he Tekenika. English officer brought Jemmy
back, too-left him at Woolya.-that his own
country -lie out that way; and he points east-
ward along the arm.
Observing Eleparu's reticence whenever Orun-
delico (or "Jemmy Button") is mentioned, the
questioners soon forbear asking further concerning

A young missionary named Mathews, who had volunteered, was taken out and left with them. But Captain Fitzroy, revisiting Woolya
-the intended mission station-a few days after, found Mathews threatened with death at the hands of those he had hoped to benefit.
During the interval, the savages had kept the poor fellow in constant fear for his life, even "Jemmy Button and York having been
unable to protect him. Captain Fitzroy took him away, and he afterward engaged in missionary work among the Maories of New Zealand.

532 THE LAND OF FIRE. [MAY,

him, and other matters of more importance claim
their attention.
Meanwhile, Ocushlu is engaged in conversation
with Mrs. Gancy and Leoline. She is about the
same age as the latter; but in other respects how
different they are, and what a contrast they form !
The poor Fuegian herself seems to realize it, and
with sadness of heart. Who could interpret her
thoughts when, after gazing at the beautiful white
girl, clean-faced and becomingly attired, her glance
is turned to her own unsightly self? Perhaps
she may be thinking of the time when, a school-
girl at Walthamstow, she, too, wore a pretty dress;
and perchance she bitterly regrets having re-
turned to her native land and barbarism Cer-
tainly, the expression on her countenance seems
a commingling of sadness and shame.
But whatever, at the moment, may be her reflec-
tions or feelings, ingratitude is not among them.
Having learned that Leoline is the sister of one of
the youths who so gallantly espoused the cause of
her companions and herself in a far-off foreign
land, she hastens to one of the boats, and, return-
ing, hands to the white girl a string of the much-
prized violet shells.
For what your brudder did at Portsmout."
The graceful act is reciprocated, and with inter-
est, both mother and daughter presenting her with
such articles of apparel as they can spare, among
them the scarf they so nearly had to part with in
a less satisfactory way.
Equally grateful proves Eleparu. Seeing the
unfinished boat, and comprehending the design,
he lends himself earnestly to assist in its com-
pletion, and no slight helper does he prove; as,
during the many months passed on board the
"Beagle," he had picked up some knowledge of
ship-carpentry. So the task of boat-building is
resumed, this time to be carried on to final suc-
cess. And with such expedition does it progress,
that in less than a week thereafter, the craft is
ready for launching; and on the next day it is
run off into the shallow water, a score of the Fue-
gian men lending helping hands.
On the following morning, with the party of
castaways and all their belongings on board, it is
shoved off the shoal, and moves away amidst a
pmean of friendly shouts from the savages. Ele-
paru, like a toast-master, leads the chorus; and
Ocushlu waves the red scarf high over her head.

CHAPTER XXI.

BOAT AHOY "

THE new boat behaves handsomely, even ex-
celling in speed the lost gig, the oars and sailing-

gear of which, luckily saved, have fitted it out
completely. Under canvas, with a fair wind, it
easily makes ten knots an hour; and, as the wind
lasts for the remainder of the day, Captain Gancy
and his little party are carried into the Beagle
Channel without need of touching an oar.
At sunset, they are opposite Devil Island, at the
junction of the south-west and north-west arms of
the channel; and as the night threatens to be
dark, with a fog already over the water, they deem
it prudent to put in to the isle, despite its uncanny
appellation.
Landing, they are surprised to see a square-
built hut of large size, quite different from any-
thing of Fuegian construction, and evidently the
work of white men.
"I reck'n the crew o' some sealin' vessel hey put
it up," says Seagriff, adding, however: "Yet I
can't understand' why they should 'a' stopped hyar,
stillless built a shanty, seeing' it's notmuch of place
for seal. I guess they must hev got wrecked some-
whar near, an' were castaways, like ourselves."
About the builders of the hut, he has surmised
wrongly. They were not sealers, nor had they
been wrecked; but were a boat's party of real
sailors -man-of-war's men from the very ship
which gave the channel its name, and at the date
of its discovery.
The island did not deserve the harsh name
bestowed upon it, and which originated from the
incident of a screech-owl having perched above
the head of one of the "Beagle's" sailors who
slept under a tree outside the hut, and having so
frightened the superstitious tar with its lugubrious
"whoo-woo-woah !" that he believed himself
hailed by one of the evil spirits which the
savages believe to inhabit the solitudes of weird
Fireland.
"Well," says Captain Gancy, after an inspection
of the untenanted building, "it '11 serve us a turn,
whoever may have built it. The roof appears
to be all tight and sound, so we need n't be
at the bother of turning the boat-sail into a tent
this time."
A fire is kindled inside the hut, and all gather
around it, the night being chilly cold. Nor are
they afraid of the blaze betraying them here, as
the fog will prevent its being seen from any dis-
tance. Besides, they are in every way more con-
fident than hitherto. They have passed beyond
the country of the Ailikolips with their lives miracu-
lously preserved; and everything now looks well
for getting to Good Success Bay--the haven of
safety they are seeking. From Devil Island it is
not over two hundred miles distant; and, with
winds and tides favoring, they should reach it in
three days, or less.

[MAY,

532

THE LAND OF FIRE.

THE LAND OF FIRE.

Still, there is cause for anxiety and apprehen-
sion, as the old sealer, Seagriff, is well aware.
"We 're not out o' the woods yet," he says,
employing a familiar backwoods expression often
heard by him in boyhood, adding, in like figura-
tive phrase, "we still hev to run the gauntlit o' the
Tekeneekers."
"But surely we have nothing to fear from
them?" exclaims Ned Gancy; and Henry Chester
adds, with a questioning look:
"No, surely not."
Why hev n't we ?" demands Seagriff.
Because," answers Chester, they are Jemmy
Button's people; and I 'd be loath to believe him
ungrateful, after our experience with his old com-
panions, and from what I remember of him. What
do you think, Ned ?"
I agree with you entirely," replied the younger
Gancy.
"Well, young masters, that may all be so, an'
I 'd be only too pleased to hope it'll turn out so.
But agenst it, thar 's a contrary sarcumstance, in
there bein' two sorts o' Tekeneekers; one harmless
and rather friendly disposed toward white people,
an' th' other bein' just the revarse,-'most as bad as
the Ailikoleeps. The bad uns are called Yapoos,
an' hev thar ground east'ard along the channel
beyond, whar a passage leads out, known as the
Murray Narrer. Therfur, it '11 all depend on which
o' the two lots Mister Button belongs to."
"If he is not of the Yapoos, what then?" ques-
tions the skipper.
"Well, known' that, an' we '11 know it afore
coming' to the Yapoo country, it bein' beyond the
other, then our best way '11 be to make southard
through the Murray Narrer. That 'd take us out
to the open sea agen, with a big 'round-about o'
coastin'; still, in the end, it might be the safer way.-
Along the outside shore, there 's not so much likeli-
hood o' meeting' Feweegins of any kind; and ef we
did meet 'em, 't would be easier getting' out o' their
way, so long ez we 're in a boat sech ez we hev
now."
The last observation contains a touch of profes-
sional pride; the old ship's carpenter having, of
course, been chief constructor of the craft that is
so admirably answering all their needs.
"Well, then," says the Captain, after reflection,
"I suppose we '11 have to be guided by circum-
stances. And from what has passed, we ought to
feel confident that they '11 still turn up in our
favor."
This remark, showing his continued trust in the
shielding power of an Omnipotent Hand, closes the
conversation; and all soon after retire to rest, with
a feeling of security that has been long denied
them until now. For, although lately under the

protection of Eleparu, they had never felt full con-
fidence ; doubting, not his fidelity, but his power
to protect them. For the authority of a Fuegian
chief-if such there be-is slight at the best, and
is made naught of on many occasions. Besides,
they could not forget that one fearful moment of
horror, to be remembered throughout life, when
the savages had almost begun their attack upon
them.
Having passed the night in peaceful slumber,
they take their places in the boat as soon as there is
light enough to steer by. There is still a fog, though
not so dense as to deter them from reEmbarking,
while, as on the day before, the wind is with
them. With sail filled by the swelling breeze, they
make rapid way, and by noon are far along the
Beagle Channel, approaching the place where the
Murray Narrow leads out of it, trending southward.
But now they see what may prove an interruption
to their onward course. Through the fog, which
has become much less dense, a number of dark
objects are visible, mottling the surface of the
water. That they are canoes can be told by the
columns of smoke rising over each, as though
they were steam-launches. They are not moving,
however, and are either lying to or riding at
anchor. None are empty; each has a full crew.
As the canoes are out in the middle of the
channel, and right ahead, to pass them unobserved
is impossible. There is no help for it but to risk
an encounter, whatever may result; so the boat
is kept on its course, with canvas full spread, to
take the chances.
While yet afar off, Captain Gancy, through his
glass, is able to announce certain facts, which favor
confidence. The people in the canoes are of both
sexes, and engaged in a peaceful occupation,-they
are fishing.
But the time for observation is brief. The boat,
forging rapidly onward, is soon sighted by the
canoemen, who, starting to their feet, commence
a chorus of shouts, which come pealing over the
water, making echoes along both shores. And
something is seen now which gives the boat's
people a thrill of fear. Above one of the canoes
suddenly appears a white disc, seemingly a small
flag,-not stationary, but waved and brandished
above the head of the man who has hoisted it.
At sight of the dreaded color, white,- the
Fuegian symbol of war,- well may the boat-
voyagers feel anxious; for, from their former ex-
perience, they are confident that this display must
be intended as a warlike challenge.
But to their instant relief, they soon learn that it
is meant as a signal of peace, as words of friendly
salutation reach their ears. The man who is
waving the signal shouts:

1884.1

TI1E LAND OF FIRE.

"Boat ahoy! Down your sail-bring to!
Me 'Jemmy Button.' We Tekeneekas -friends
white people -brothers "
Hailed in such fashion, their delight far exceeds
their surprise, for Jemmy Button' it surely is;
Henry Chester and Ned Gancy both recognize
him. It is on his side that amazement is greatest
when he recognizes them, which he does when his
native name, Orundelico, is called out to him.
He waits not for the boat to come up, but,
plunging into the water, swims to meet it. Then
clambering over the rail, he flings his arms wide
open,- to close, first around the young English-
man, and then around the young American, in a
friendly hug.

CHAPTER XXII.

TEKENIKA HOSPITALITY.

ONCE more are the castaways in a land-locked
cove begirt by high, wooded hills, with their boat
moored at its inner end, as before. It is a larger
embayment than that where the gig came to grief,
though not much wider at the mouth. And there
is' little resemblance between the two landing-
places, since, at the present one, the boat is not
the only craft. Ten or more of Fuegian canoes lie
alongside her; while on a broad, grassy flat,
above water-mark, stands a like number of wig-
wams, their smoke-blackened thatches in strong
contrast with the white, weather-bleached boat-
sail, which is again serving as a tent. The wig-
wams are of Tekenika construction, differing, as
already said, from those of the Ailikolips, in being
acutely cone-shaped, and in having their floors
sunk several feet below the surface of the ground.
Their ribs, moreover, are stout tree-trunks, instead
of slender saplings, while the thatches are partly
of rushes and partly of broad strips of bark.
Such are the dwellings of Orundelico's people;
though only for a part of the year, while they
engage in a certain fishery of periodical occurrence.
On an island, down the Murray Narrow, they have
a larger "wigwamery" of more permanent resi-
dences; and there the very old and young of the
community now are; only the able-bodied being at
the fishing station.
When they were with the Ailikolips, the casta-
ways believed themselves among the lowest and
most degraded beings in the human scale. But
they have now changed their minds, a short
acquaintance with the Tekenikas having revealed
to them a typ,. of man still lower, and a state of

existence yet more wretched, if that be possible.
Indeed, nothing can come much nearer to the
"missing link" than the natives of central Tierra
del Fuego. Though of less malevolent disposition
than those who inhabit the outside coasts, they
are also less intelligent and less courageous, while
equally the victims of abject misery.
Alas "Jemmy Button" is no longer Jemmy
Button," but again the savage Orundelico; he,
too, having gone back to barbarism His scanty
dress, his long, unkempt hair, and the wild ani-
mal-like expression of his features--all attest
his relapse into a condition of savagery, total
and complete. Not a vestige of civilized man re-
mains with him to show that he has ever been a
mile from the Murray Narrow.
But stay I am wronging him twice wronging
him. He has not entirely forgotten the foreign
tongue taught him on board the "Beagle" and
during a year's residence in England; while some-
thing he remembers also-something better-the
kindness there shown him and the gratitude owing
for it.
He is paying the debt of honor as best he can,
and on this account Captain Gancy has consented
to make a brief stop at the fishing station. There
are also two other distinct reasons for his doing so.
Before proceeding further, he wishes to obtain
more information about the Yapoos; and he needs
a fresh supply of provisions -that furnished by
Eleparu having been neither abundant nor pala-
table.
Orundelico can do better for them, even to
providing fresh meat, a thing they have not
tasted for a long time. They are now in a re-
gion where roams the guanaco ;* and the Tek-
enikas are hunters as well as fishermen. A party
has been sent inland to procure one or more of
these animals, and the boat-voyagers are await-
ing its return before continuing their interrupted
voyage.
Meanwhile, the hospitality shown them by "Jem-
my Button is as generous as his limited means
will allow. To make their time pass agreeably, he
entertains them with accounts of many odd man-
ners and customs, and also of such strange phe-
nomena of nature as are peculiar to his country.
The Tekenikas, he assures them, are a peaceful
people, never going to war when they can avoid it.
Sometimes, however, they are forced into it by
certain neighboring tribes that make maraud upon
them. The Ailikolips are enemies of theirs; but a
wide belt of neutral territory between the two pre-
vents frequent encounters. They more often have

The guanaco, by some supposed to be the llama in its wild state, is found on the eastern side of Tierra del Fuego. Its range extends
to the furthest southern point by the Straits of Le Maire; and, strange to say, it is there of a much larger size than on the plains of
Patagonia.

534

THE LAND OF FIRE.

quarrels with the Yapoos living to the eastward,
though these are tribally related to them. But
their most dreaded foes are the Oensmen, whose
country lies north of the channel, beyond the
range of high mountains that borders it. The
Oensmen he describes as giants, armed with a ter-
rible weapon, "the bolas." But, being exclusively
hunters, they have no canoes; and when on a raid
to the southern side of the channel, they levy on
the craft of the Yapoos, forcing the owners to ferry
them across.
Orundelico's own people can fight, too, and
bravely, according to his account; but only do
so in defense of their homes and at the last ex-
tremity. They are not even possessed of warlike
weapons-neither the deadly club nor the
flint-bladed dagger-their spears, bows,
and slings being used only as implements
for fishing and the chase.
Besides the harmaur guanacoo), they
hunt the hiafio (sea-otter) and the coy-
pou, or South American beaver, which is
also found in Tierra del Fuego. The chase
of the otter takes place out in the open
water, where the amphibious animal is
surrounded by the well-trained dogs, in a
wide circle; they then close in upon it,
diving whenever it goes under, to prevent
its escape through the enfilading ring.
Of the Tekenika mode of fishing he
treats them to an actual exhibition. No '
hooks are used; the bait, a lump of seal- -
flesh, being simply attached to a hair line.
The fish, seizing it, is gently drawn to the
surface, then dextrously caught by the left
hand and secured, before it can clear its
teeth from the tough, fibrous bait. The
rods used in this primitive style of angling
are of the rudest kind,-mere sticks, no
longer than the handle of a coach-whip.
In hunting the harnaur, or, as they also -
call it, wanakaye (evidently a corruption
of guanaco "), one of their modes is to
lie in wait for it on the limb of a tree
which projects over the path taken by
these animals, the habit of which is to
follow one another in single file, and along old, fre-
quented tracks. Above these, among the branches,
the Tekenika hunter builds a sort of thatched
staging or nest. Seating himself on this, he awaits
the coming of the unsuspicious creature; and,

when it is underneath, plunges his spear down be-
tween its ribs; the blade of the spear being a bone
taken from some former victim of its own species!
Orundelico also shows them the Fuegian mode
of fire-kindling, the first sparks being obtained
from the cathow, or fire-stone,$ two pieces of which
every Fuegian carries about him, as an habitual
smoker does his flint and steel or box of matches.
The inflammable material used by the natives is
of three sorts: the soft down of certain birds, a
moss of fine fiber, and a species of dry fungus
found attached to the under side of half-rotten
trees. The cathows, rasped against each other like
flints, emit sparks which ignite the tinder, which
soon bursts into a generous flame.

"HARRY CHESTER SPRINGING FORWARD, CUT THE CORD."
(SEE PAGE 538.)

From Orundelico his guests come to know more
of those matters about which his former associate,
Eleparu, was so reticent, and as they now learn,
with good reason.
York' bad fella," he answers, on being ques-

*Jemmy Button's "Oensmen" are the Yacana-cunnees, kindred of the Patagonians, who at some distant time have crossed the
Magellan Strait and now rove over the large tract to which Narborough gave the name of King Charles's South Land." They
are a hunting tribe, the guanaco being the chief object of their pursuit and source of subsistence.
t 1yopotainus coyuts. It is found in many South American rivers, and, less frequently, in Fuegian waters. In habits and otherwise the
coypou is much like the beaver, but is a smaller animal and has a rounder tail.
SIt is found on several of the mountainous islands of western Tierra del Fuego, and is much prized by the natives for the purpose
indicated. Being scarce in most places, it is an article of commerce between the tribes, and is eagerly purchased by the Patagonians, in
whose territory it is not found.

THE LAND OF FIRE

tioned, 'he rob me after Englis' officer leave us
all at Woolya. Took 'way my coat, tools, every-
thing. Yes! 'York' very bad man! He no
Tekenika; him blubber-eating Ailikolip !"
Strange words from a man who, while giving
utterance to them, is industriously devouring a
piece of seal-flesh which is nearly raw.
Is there a people or nation on earth that does
not believe itself superior to some other?
Jemmy further declares that the hostile party
encountered in Whale Boat Sound must have
been Ailikolips; though Eleparu had denied it.
Still, as there are several communities of Aili-
kolips, it may have been one with which Eleparu's
people had no relations.
With a grateful remembrance of their late host's
behavior, the castaways are loath to believe all that
is alleged against him by their present enter-
tainer; though they feel some of it must be true,
or why should Eleparu have been so reticent as
to Orundelico ? *
Like "York," Jemmy has married; and his wife
is with him at the fishing'station. His "help-
meet" is anything but a beauty, however, being
as ugly as can well be imagined. But withal,
she is of a kindly, gentle disposition, quite as
generous as Ocushlu, and does her best to help
entertain her husband's guests.
Notwithstanding all the hospitality extended to
them, the castaways find the delay irksome, and
are impatient to be gone. Glad are they when at
length a shout heard from the hills announces
the approach of the hunters; and still more grati-
fied at seeing them issue from the wood, bearing
on their backs the four quarters of a guanaco as
large as a year-old bullock !

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE DREADED OENSMEN.

FROM the information they have gained about
the Yapoos, which shows them to be ferocious and
treacherous, and hostile to white men, Captain
Gancy decides upon running out to seaward
through the Murray Narrow,-a resolve in har-
mony with the advice given him by his Fuegian
host, and by the trusty Seagriff also. The inlet
in which they are is just outside the entrance to
the Narrow, on its western side ; and, once around
a separating tongue of land, they will be in it. As
if some good fortune seemed to favor their taking
this route instead of following the Beagle Chan-

nel, a fine breeze has set in from almost due north;
and it is still blowing when the spoil-laden hunters
return.
To take advantage of it, immediate departure
must be made, and is determined upon. Down
comes the tent, and its component parts are trans-
ferred to the boat with all their other belongings.
Enough, also, of the guanaco meat to last them
for a much longer voyage than they hope theirs
will be.
What if they make no voyage at all? What if
they are not even allowed to embark?
But why should these questions occur to
them?
Because, just as they all have come down to the
boat, and are preparing to step into it, something
is seen on the water outside, near the opposite
shore of the channel, which painfully suggests
the questions,-a fleet of canoes, crowded with
men, and evidently making across for the cove!
The Yapoos !" exclaims Orundelico in a voice
betokening great alarm.
But not so great as when, the instant after, he
again cries out:
Oh! Oh! The Oensmen 'long with them!"
Captain Gancy, quickly covering the canoes with
his glass, makes out, what is yet undistinguishable
by the naked eye of any other than a Fuegian, that
there are two sorts of men in them, quite different
in appearance, unlike in form, facial aspect, dress,
everything. Above all, are they dissimilar in size,
some being of gigantic stature; the others along-
side of them appearing like pigmies The latter
are seated or bent down working the paddles;
while the big men stand erect, each with an ample
robe of skin hanging toga-like from his shoulders,
cloaking him from neck to ankles.
It is seen, also, that the canoes are lashed to-
gether, two and two, like double-keeled catama-
rans, as though the heavy, stalwart Oensmen did
not dare to trust themselves to embark in the
ordinary Fuegian craft.
"Oh! Oh Oh !!" repeats Orundelico, shiver-
ing from crown to toe. "The Oensmen, shoo'!
This the time of year they come plunder; now
oosho (red leaf). They rob, kill us all, if we stay
here. Too late now get pass 'em. They meet
you out yonner. We mus' run to hills; hide way
up in woods!"
The course he counsels is already being taken
by his compatriots; all of whom, men and women,
on hearing the word "Oensmen"-the most ter-
rifying bogey of their babyhood--have made a rush
to the wigwams and hastily gathered up the most

The robbery was actually committed. After being left at Woolya, York and Fuegia" found their way to the country that they
had been taken from, further west; but not until they had stripped their former associate of most of the chattels that had been given him
by Captain Fitzroy.

[MAY,

1884.] THE LAND OF FIRE. 537

portable of their household goods. Nor do they Besides, it's not likely we could escape t' other way,
stay for Jemmy"; but, all shouting and scream- seeing' how we 're hampered," says Seagriff, with a
ing, strike off -- ------- - .-----
into the woods,
"Jemmy's"
wife among
them.
Left alone '
with the boat's
people, he re-
mains by them
but for a brief
moment, urg-
ing them to
flight.
"Oensmen
bad -very
bad," he keeps
affirming.
"They worse
than Ailikolip.
They kill you ,
all. Come!
Hide in the ,'
woods." And .
with these -
words, he is
off like a shot. "
"What's to :" .
bedone?"asks .
the Captain, .
appealing to .
Seagriff. "If
we retreat in- -
land, we shall
lose the boat-
even if we save
ourselves."
"Letmehev
another look
through yer I
glass, Cap-
t'in."
A hasty
glance enables
him to make "--
a rough esti-
mate of the -I
distance be-
tween the
cove's mouth
and the ap-
proaching ca-
noes. "Iguess --
we can get out SAVED AT LAST. (SEE NEXT PAGE.)
o' this corner, 'fore they shut us up in it. Ef we side glance toward.Mrs. Gancy and Leoline. "On
can but make'roun' that p'int eastard, we'll be safe. land they 'd soon overtake us, hide or no hide,-
VOL. XI.--35.

THE LAND OF FIRE.

sure to. Therefer, our best, our only chance air
by the water," he.affirms.
Never did crew or passengers get more quickly
on board a craft, and the instant that everybody
is in the boat, it is shot out into the water, like an
arrow from a bow, and brought head around, like
a teetotum. Then, with the four oars in the
hands of four men who work them with strength
and will, it goes gliding, aye, fairly bounding on
for the outside channel.
Again it is a pull for their lives, and they know
it. If they had any doubt of it before, there can be
none now; for as they draw near to the entrance
of the cove, they see the canoes spreading out to
intercept them. The big, fierce-looking men, too,
are in a state of wild excitement, evidently pur-
posing an attack. They cast off their skin wraps
from their shoulders, displaying their naked
bronze bodies and arms, like those of a Colossus.
Each has in his hand what appears to be a bit of
cord uniting two balls, about the size of small
oranges. It is the bolas, an innocent-looking thing,
but, in reality, a missile weapon as deadly in
practiced hands as a grenade or bomb-shell. That
the giant savages intend casting them is clear.
Their gestures leave no room for doubting it; they
are only waiting until the boat is near enough.
The fugitives are well-nigh despairing, for it is
almost near enough now. Less than two cables'
lengths are between it and the foremost of the
canoes,-each holding a course straight toward
the other. It seems as though they must meet.
Forty strokes more, and the boat will be among
the canoes. Twenty will bring it within reach of
the bolas.
And the strokes are given, but no longer to
propel it in that direction ; for the point of the land
spit is now abeam, the helm is put hard-a-port,
bringing the boat's head around with a sharp
sheer to starboard, and it is clear of the cove !
The mast being already stepped, Ned and
Henry now drop their oars and hasten to hoist
sail. But ere the yard .can be run up to the mast-
head, there comes a whizzing, booming sound,-
and it is caught in the bols The mast is struck,
too, and the balls, whirling around and around,
lash it and the yard together, with the frumpled
canvas between, as tight as a spliced spar !
And now dismay fills the hearts of the boat's
people; all chance of escape seems gone. Two
of their oars for the time are idle, and the sail, as
it were, fast-furled. But no; it is loose again!
for quick as a thought, Harry Chester has drawn
his knife and, springing forward, cut the lapping
cord with one rapid slash. With equal prompt-

ness Ned Gancy, having the halyards still in hand,
hoists away; the sheet is hauled taut aft, the sail
instantly fills, and off goes the boat, like an
impatient steed under loosened rein and deep-
driven spurs,- off and away in gay, careering
dance over the water, quickly leaving the foiled,
furious giants far hopelessly far in the wake !

This was the last peril encountered by the east-
aways that claims record here. What came after
were but the ordinary dangers to which an open
boat is exposed when skirting along a rock-bound,
storm-beaten coast like that which forms the
southern and western borders of Tierra del Fuego.
But they passed unharmed through all, and, three
days later, reached Good Success Bay.
There were their hearts made glad by the sight
of a ship at anchor in shore, Seagriff still further
rejoicing on recognizing it as a sealing vessel,-
the very one on which, years before, he had
cruised while chasing the fur-coated amphibia
through the waters of Fireland.
But another and greater joy is in store for them
all, as, pulling up nearer, they see a large boat-a
pinnace swinging by its painter at the ship's side,
and, lettered on its stern, the name "CALYPSO !
Over the ship's rail, too, is seen a rovw of familiar
faces- those of their old shipmates, whom they
feared they might never see again. There are they
all,- Lyons and nine others,- and all uniting in a
chorus of joyous salutation.
Soon hands are being shaken warmly on both
sides, and mutual accounts rendered of what has
happened to each party since their forced separa-
tion. The crew of the pinnace had encountered
but little incident or accident. They had kept
to the outside coast and circumnavigated it from
the Milky Way to the Straits of Le Maire. They
had fallen in with some natives, but luckily had
not fallen out with them.
The gig's people, whose lives had been more than
once in jeopardy from the inhabitants, might well
be thankful to Captain Fitzroy, one of whose ob-
jects in carrying the four Fuegians to England and
back to their own country is thus told by himself:
"Perhaps a shipwrecked seaman may hereafter receive help and
kind treatment from 'Jemmy Button's' children, prompted, as they
can hardly fail to be, by the traditions they will have heard of men
of other lands, and by the idea, however faint, of their duty to God,
as well as to their neighbors."
The hopeful prediction has borne good fruit,
even sooner than Captain Fitzroy looked for. But
for his humane act, Captain Gancy and all dear to
him would have doubtless left their bones, un-
buried, on some lone spot in the LAND OF FIRE.

THa END.

[MAY,

THE RIVER-END MOREYS' RAB.

THE RIVER-END MOREYS' RAB.

BY A. G. PLYMPTON.

THERE were two Scotch collies in Cloverbank,
one belonging to the rich Moreys on the hill, and
the other the river-end Moreys' Rab. The former
was a pampered animal, in whom I have no interest
whatever; but the latter was a most affectionate,
faithful creature, and the only companion poor
little Martha Morey ever had. It was this dog
that had the misfortune to mistake the tax-collector
for a tramp.
Old Sam Morey and little Martha lived alone
in an unpainted, tumble-down house with old-
fashioned "lights" over the door and a dove-cote
under the eaves. The house had a fine view of the
river which marked the boundary of this end of the
town,-"the river end," as the Cloverbank people
called it, and in a tone which betrayed the fact that
it was by no means the court end of the town.
The Moreys on the hill did not exchange calls
with the river-end Moreys, although both were
descended from a certain sturdy old John Morey,
who had settled in Cloverbank over a hundred
years ago. It is doubtful whether the richer and
luckier of the two families could have told exactly
what the connection was; and the daughter of the
house, little Isabel, never dreamed that the same
blood flowed in her veins as in the wild little
creature's who lived at the river end. Martha
Morey, however, had often listened to the family
history, and sometimes told Rab-who received
the intelligence with a sniff of indifference-that
he was a sixteenth cousin of that other Scotch
collie that lived in the big house on the hill.
Why," said Bill Swift, who, on one occasion,
overheard this boast, they are n't any better folks
than you and your father be."
"Better folks Why, Bill, they are-they are
the best family in town. They have silver forks,
Bill. Why, they have a piano "
I forgot Bill Swift, when I said Martha and her
father lived alone. But then, he went home every
night to a little shanty of his own, and, besides,
Bill was just next to nobody. If he had not been,
he would never have worked for old Sam Morey
"for his keep." And such "keep!"' You can
imagine what it must have been, with shiftless
Sam to provide, and poor little Martha as house-
keeper and cook.
Poor little Martha, indeed What a life the
child had led before that never-to-be-forgotten day
when Rab came! How she had longed for com-
panionship, even trying to make friends with the

frogs in the spring. There were long days, often
with no human face to look upon, except, perhaps,
the grimy countenance of a tramp, whose rough
look would cause her heart to beat like a trip-
hammer. And, worse than all, there were the
nights when Sam-heaven help him!-did not
come home at all, and which Martha passed listen-
ing to the wind whistling in the pine-tops and the
windows rattling in the casement.
But enough of these dismal memories; for the
day came at last, when her father brought home a
lovely black-and-white puppy (with a sharp little
nose and a tail just like a rat's), and said in his
pleasant way,-for with all his faults old Sam Mo-
rey always spoke kindly to his little girl,-" Mar-
thy, here's a playmate for you."
Dear old Rab! A playmate! Why, he was
the most loyal, adoring of friends, and a brave pro-
tector besides. He grew big and handsome every
day, with a sleek black coat, and a white vest;
and his tail, which he had so grand a way of
waving in the air, became unusually bushy and
majestic. He was an endless diversion to Martha
with his funny dog-ways-such dancing around
after his tail, and giving sly licks at her cheek in
unguarded moments; even the funny little flap
of his ears when he ran delighted her, and his
trick of resting his chin on her lap when she ate,
and nudging her with it from time to time to
attract her attention to the fact that he, too, was
hungry. Martha knew that he longed for the gift
of speech, if only to tell her how he loved her.
At least, so his brown eyes seemed to say, as he
sometimes stood by her side looking patiently,
wistfully into her face.
Rab fully realized 'what an unguarded life his
little mistress led, and constituted himself her body-
guard. No grimy tramp set Martha's heart beat-
ing now, for Rab became a terror even to the
innocent passer-by. You.would have 1...,,u.r. to
hear him growl, that old Sam Morey's dilapidated
buildings were store-houses of wealth.
One day, old Isaac Hunter was driving to the
village, and his harness broke in front of the
Morey house. Isaac stopped his horse and de-
scended slowly from his wagon, when Rab, who
with ears upright and glaring eyes had been
watching him from the door-step, dashed down
the path, barking furiously, and seized the old man
by the leg. If Martha had not appeared just then
upon the scene, there is no knowing how the en-

539

THE RIVER-END MOREYS' RAB.

counter would have ended. As it was, there was
a hole in Isaac's boot-top.
Is that your dog? asked he of Martha, who
was holding Rab by the ear.
Yes, sir."
Had him long?"
"Two years," answered innocent Martha, with
a fond pat on Rab's sleek black head.
"Long enough to have taught him better man-
ners," said ungracious Isaac, as he gathered his
reins together and drove off.
That very evening, as Sam sat, with his pipe, in
the front yard, a neighbor leaned over the gate
and thus addressed him: Hello, Sam, why don't
you shingle your roof? "
"Wall," said Sam, taking the pipe from his
mouth, there don't seem to be any right time to
shingle a house. Can't when it rains, you know.
And when it's pleasant, there 's no need of it."
The neighbor laughed, and presently began
again: "I say, Sam, have you paid your dog-tax
this year ? "
"Blest, now, if I have n't forgotten that tax! "
said Sam, scratching his head; but adding, with a
sudden glance of suspicion, "Why are you so
free with your questions?"
"Well, it is n't exactly from curiosity, Sam.
You see, old Isaac Hunter passed here to-day, and
your dog introduced himself to notice. Isaac col-
lects the dog-tax, you know, and he says there has
n't any tax been paid on your dog this year; nor
last year, either, for the matter of that. I thought
I 'd be neighborly, and let you know that he is
coming down to-morrow night to collect."
"You don't mean it?" said Sam. "It '11 be
uncommon inconvenient. I can't let him have the
money then."
"Well, there is no way to avoid the tax, they
say, but to kill the dog."
To kill dear old Rab! Can you understand,
you children with tender parents, with brothers
and sisters, with hosts of friends, with never-end-
ing amusements,-can you understand what the
words meant to lonely little Martha Morey?
"Oh, Father," she cried, "you would n't kill
Rab !"
"Marthy," answered Sam, with his eyes on the
vanishing figure of his neighbor, "I have n't got a
penny to my name, and'that's the truth."
She flung her arms around the dog, and buried
her face in his shaggy coat. Her faithful, only
friend; and he loved her so !
"I dunno as I could kill him myself," continued
Sam, looking at the two with a troubled face.
Bill Swift will have to do it. Come, Marthy,-
come little gal,-don't take on so "
The tax was two dollars-such a trifle against

Rab's life Sam went out,- poor, weak, old fel-
low,-unable to witness Martha's misery. It was
bright moonlight, and the child wiped her eyes
bravely, for she remembered to have heard that
huckleberries were ripe in the lower pasture; and
she would work instead of cry. Would her father
try to raise the money and save Rab ? She seized
a basket, poor little desperate soul, and calling
her dog, shut the door of the house.
It was a long walk to the pasture, but she had
soon scrambled over the wall and made her way
to the place where the berries grew. I have never
picked berries by moonlight, but I can imagine
what the difficulties may be. Martha trailed
through the wet bushes and picked with nervous,
eager fingers, without daring to think how many
berries it would take to earn two dollars, or
whether four dollars, even, might not be demanded
by that hard-hearted collector of taxes. Mean-
time, Rab kept close to her side, watching pro-
ceedings with wise eyes, as if he, too, understood
all about it. By midnight the moon went down,
and Martha sadly groped her way home.
There, she lit a lamp and measured the berries.
Only two quarts; but in her desperation a thought
had come to her, and holding fast to the hope it
held, she at last fell asleep.
The sun shone in at her eastern window, and
woke the little sleeper at the usual hour. Martha's
trouble woke, too, and urged her to hurry about
her morning work. She made the fire and cooked
the breakfast. She gave Rab his, too, which he
ate with his usual appetite, unconscious that his
life was trembling in the balance. Ah, poor,
loving Rab, who licked Sam's hands, and stood
looking trustfully into his face at the very moment
when that worthy was telling Bill that he must
shoot the dog!
This afternoon, sometime, Bill, you must find
time to do it," Sam said, "for Isaac Hunter is
coming for the tax in the evening; and, mind you,
I don't mean to own any dog then. Come toward
sunset. Now, Marthy, keep 'round the house with
him."
"Yes, sir," replied Martha, with her usual
meekness; but, for the first time in her life, she
avoided her father's kiss.
The berries she had picked, upon inspection by
daylight, proved very unsalable. They were hardly
ripe, and the preponderance of green berries was
perceptible. Nevertheless, Martha got her hat and
put it on. Looking in the little cracked glass, she
saw a slender girl with dusky hair, beneath which
her face seemed unusually small and delicate. Blue
eyes full of tears, a little mouth set in a sad curve,
the dress old and faded. Then she kissed dear
old Rab, shut him in the house in spite of his

[MAY,

THE RIVER-END MOREYS' RAB

counter would have ended. As it was, there was
a hole in Isaac's boot-top.
Is that your dog?" asked he of Martha, who
was holding Rab by the ear.
"Yes, sir."
"Had him long? "
"Two years," answered innocent Martha, with
a fond pat on Rab's sleek black head.
Long enough to have taught him better man-
ners," said ungracious Isaac, as he gathered his
reins together and drove off.
That very evening, as Sam sat, with his pipe, in
the front yard, a neighbor leaned over the gate
and thus addressed him: Hello, Sam, why don't
you shingle your roof? "
"Wall," said Sam, taking the pipe from his
mouth, there don't seem to be any right time to
shingle a house. Can't when it rains, you know.
And when it's pleasant, there 's no need of it."
The neighbor laughed, and presently began
again: "I say, Sam, have you paid your dog-tax
this year? .'
"Blest, now, if I have n't forgotten that tax! "
said Sam, scratching his head; but adding, with a
sudden glance of suspicion, Why are you so
free with your questions?"
"Well, it is n't exactly from curiosity, Sam.
You see, old Isaac Hunter passed here to-day, and
your dog introduced himself to notice. Isaac col-
lects the dog-tax, you know, and he says there has
n't any tax been paid on your dog this year; nor
last year, either, for the matter of that. I thought
I 'd be neighborly, and let you know that he is
coming down to-morrow night to collect."
"You don't mean it?" said Sam. "It '11 be
uncommon inconvenient. I can't let him have the
money then."
"Well, there is no way to avoid the tax, they
say, but to kill the dog."
To kill dear old Rab! Can you understand,
you children with tender parents, with brothers
and sisters, with hosts of friends, with never-end-
ing amusements,-can you understand what the
words meant to lonely little Martha Morey?
Oh, Father," she cried, "you would n't kill
Rab !"
"Marthy," answered Sam, with his eyes on the
vanishing figure of his neighbor, I have n't got a
penny to my name, and-that's the truth."
She flung her arms around the dog, and buried
her face in his shaggy coat. Her faithful, only
friend; and he loved her so !
I dunno as I could kill him myself," continued
Sam, looking at the two with a troubled face.
Bill Swift will have to do it. Come, Marthy,-
come little gal,-don't take on so "
The tax was two dollars-such a trifle against

Rab's life Sam went out,- poor, weak, old fel-
low,-unable to witness Martha's misery. It was
bright moonlight, and the child wiped her eyes
bravely, for she remembered to have heard that
huckleberries were ripe in the lower pasture; and
she would work instead of cry. Would her father
try to raise the money and save Rab ? She seized
a basket, poor little desperate soul, and calling
her dog, shut the door of the house.
It was a long walk to the pasture, but she had
soon scrambled over the wall and made her way
to the place where the berries grew. I have never
picked berries by moonlight, but I can imagine
what the difficulties may be. Martha trailed
through the wet bushes and picked with nervous,
eager fingers, without daring to think how many
berries it would take to earn two dollars, or
whether four dollars, even, might not be demanded
by that hard-hearted collector of taxes. Mean-
time, Rab kept close to her side, watching pro-
ceedings with wise eyes, as if he, too, understood
all about it.' By midnight the moon went down,
and Martha sadly groped her way home.
There, she lit a lamp and measured the berries.
Only two quarts; but in her desperation a thought
had come to her, and holding fast to the hope it
held, she at last fell asleep.
The sun shone in at her eastern window, and
woke the little sleeper at the usual hour. Martha's
trouble woke, too, and urged her to hurry about
her morning work. She made the fire and cooked
the breakfast. She gave Rab his, too, which he
ate with his usual appetite, unconscious that his
life was trembling in the balance. Ah, poor,
loving Rab, who licked Sam's hands, and stood
looking trustfully into his face at the very moment
when that worthy was telling Bill that he must
shoot the dog !
This afternoon, sometime, Bill, you must find
time to do it," Sam said, "for Isaac Hunter is
coming for the tax in the evening; and, mind you,
I don't mean to own any dog then. Come toward
sunset. Now, Marthy, keep 'round the house with
him."
"Yes, sir," replied Martha, with her usual
meekness; but, for the first time in her life, she
avoided her father's kiss.
The berries she had picked, upon inspection by
daylight, proved very unsalable. They were hardly
ripe, and the preponderance of green berries was
perceptible. Nevertheless, Martha got her hat and
put it on. Looking in the little cracked glass, she
saw a slender girl with dusky hair, beneath which
her face seemed unusually small and delicate. Blue
eyes full of tears, a little mouth set in a sad curve,
the dress old and faded. Then she kissed dear
old Rab, shut him in the house in spite of his

[MAY,

540

THE RIVER-END MOREYS' RAB.

541

frantic entreaties to go, too, and set out for the desire on your part--perfectly natural," was the
village, facetious remark of Mr. Towle, when Martha had
It was to one of the stores of Cloverbank that stammered out her proposition. But you see, from
Martha was bound, on an errand the very thought my point of view it does n't seem so attractive."
of which made her cheeks burn. She was going Indeed," cried poor Martha, that is n't what

rtc- k -:r

I- -

I: V

7_

rA
Wk. -4

C, ;z,
tt

t-~ j [,i

-!?

MARTHA AND RAB.
to do what she had never done before-to beg I said at all. I said I would bring you berries all
a favor. But .it was for Rab's life, and with summer, and I wanted you, as a great favor, to
this reflection she plucked up courage and went in. pay me beforehand."
"And so you want me to make you a present In advance, so to speak. Would they be as
of two dollars,- eh ? Well, that is a very natural clean picked as these, Miss Morey ?" asked Mr.

THE RIVER-END MOREYS' RAB.

Towle, sarcastically, with a wave of his hand
toward the basket. No, no," said he, changing
his tone as he saw a customer advancing. I '11
pay you for your berries when you bring them."
Martha turned away. Blinded with tears, she
ran against a stout woman who was coming in.
"Well, well, little girl, what's the trouble?
Could n't sell your berries ? questioned she, in a
kind tone. "Well, just run up to Mrs. Morey's,
on the hill, you know, and I guess she will buy
them; for she asked me if I saw any one with
berries to send them to her."
With renewed hope a'nd courage, Martha wiped
her eyes and started for the hill. Perhaps these
rich Moreys would hold out a helping hand, for she
had heard that they did many acts of kindness in the
village; and then- and Martha's cheeks flushed
there was the relationship, too, in her favor.
She soon came to the broad gate of the rich
Moreys' house, which stood with its long windows
and broad piazzas, a very stronghold of ease and
plenty. On the front piazza sat Isabel Morey and
three young friends, who, Martha saw at a glance,
were not Cloverbank girls.
Poor Martha! She was too ignorant of the ways
of the world to go to the back of the house with
her wares; instead of doing so, she walked slowly
up to Isabel, and asked if they would like to buy
huckleberries.
Huckleberries! cried one of the girls, coming
toward her. Isabel, your good mother said if she
could get any, I would n't have to go back to the
South without having tasted a huckleberry pie.
And she looked into Martha's basket, saying,
"And so these little green things are the much-
talked-of huckleberry ? "
Isabel blushed and laughed. They are not
very good specimens, Ruby," and turning to
Martha, said coldly: "None to-day, thank you."
Down to zero sank Martha's heart, her courage
had almost gone; yet she could not go without
another effort for Rab.
"They are not very good, I know," she said,
eagerly; "I picked them by moonlight, because"
(with a sob) I wanted the money so. Unless I
have it, my dog will be shot just for the money to
pay the tax. I thought, perhaps, because I am
a relation, you would let me have it."
A relation !" cried Isabel; "pooh! That 's a
story. We don't want any berries, I tell you, so
you had better go on to your next relations."
Little Martha went home desperate. She pre-
pared the dinner, but she ate none of it herself.
She took Rab, who was wild with joy at her return
after so unusual a separation, out of the house,
away from her father and Bill Swift, and went up
on the hill.

It was the same spot where they had frolicked
together but a few days before, and Martha remem-
bered how the solemn beauty of the sunset had, at
last, hushed their wild gambols. She thought
then, as she stood watching the tender glow of the
wonderful sky, that life, even to a poor, little bare-
foot girl like herself, was sweet and good. And
now oh, the difference It was Rab's last after-
noon-the last one. He was her only, best friend;
and he was going to be shot--shot for no fault of
his, and by those he loved and trusted.
"Oh, Rab Rab !" cried the poor little girl,
"how can they do it, when you trust them so ? If
you only knew, you would run away and find a
home with somebody else; but you never could
trust anybody, never any more. Rab, dear old
dog, can't you understand? You have stuck as
close to us always as if we were rich folks, and
loved us, and tried to keep harm away; and now,
just for two dollars, you are going to be shot! "
And Rab, who had never once taken his solemn
eyes from hers, licked her hand and moved still
closer by way of answer.
The afternoon shadows grew longer and longer.
Rab slept with his head on Martha's lap, and
*Martha, poor child, wept. Once, she woke him up
with a great hug, crying: How can I do without
you? How can I bear the long evenings, old fel-
low, all alone again ?"
The sun sank lower and lower, and dropped at
last softly below the horizon. Then the child with
a frantic kiss on Rab's head, sprang to her feet
and flew down the hill, past the orchard, past the
great empty barns, and in at the old kitchen door,
knowing well that it hit Rab's nose as she shut it,
and that he stood waiting patiently for it to be
opened again. She heard Bill Swift's whistle, and
knew that Rab trotted off obedient to the call. She
could see how he jumped and wagged his tail in
answer to Bill's voice-Bill, who had just stood and
grinned, when he had been ordered to shoot.him.
Oh that was. Bill now, in the hall, for his gun.
And now, now he was calling Rab down behind
the stable to be shot -to be shot! "Oh, how
can he do it !" cried Martha, i ii rlig her shawl
around her ears. But she could not shut out the
sound she dreaded.
For, at the same moment, a loud bang and a
girl's shrill cry filled the air; then here was perfect
stillness, and Martha tried to realize that brave,
loving Rab was dead.

Isabel Morey, notwithstanding her treatment of
Martha, was by no means a hard-hearted girl.
She had, indeed, a very tender heart, and it was
filled with remorse, although Isabel tried her best
not to think any more about the girl who was try-

542

THE RIVER-END MOREYS' RAB.

ing to get money to save her dog. You see, she
was proud; and what proud girl would wish to
have Martha Morey claim her for a relation ? But,
somehow, the troubled blue eyes and quivering
lip haunted Isabel all day; and that afternoon
which Martha and Rab spent on the hill, and on
which Isabel gave her lawn party, was the most
uncomfortable one she could remember.
The girl had been fed on praise and pleasure all
her life, and that is a diet that will agree with
nobody's disposition. It was only Isabel's high
standard of living that prevented her from being
just as well pleased with herself as the rest of the
household was with her. She knew those whose
lives were lovely, and her own seemed very poor
and ugly, just now, in comparison. So, when fond
good-night kisses were pressed on her cheek, she
burst out:
"Don't kiss me, mother! I'm a proud, bad-
hearted girl, who never thinks of anybody but her-
self; and I don't deserve all the love and the
kisses I get. I 'm an unfeeling savage, mother,
and I 'm sure I have broken a girl's heart."
"Broken a girl's heart!" echoed Mrs. Morey.
Dear, dear, and who is the damsel ?"
"It's a poor girl that came to sell berries,"
explained Isabel. "She wanted the money to
save her dog, that was going to be shot to avoid
the dog-tax. And I would not give her any,
because she said she was a relation. Yes, that was
the real reason. Her name happens to be Morey."
"Well, then, I presume she is a relation. All
the Moreys in this part of the country are of the
same stock. Which family is it, Belle ?"
The river-end Moreys, mother."
A daughter of old Sam, then. Well, dear,
any child of his has a sad life. Help her, if you
have a chance."
To-morrow, I will go and see Martha, and
give her the money," said Isabel, who had real
tears in her eyes; and after calling herself more
bad names, she was led off to bed, where, I hope,
she slept more comfortably than poor Martha,
who tossed on her little cot and moaned for Rab
till morning.
One of the advantages of a story is, that we can
skip unhappy days which, in real life, we have to
go through as best we may, finding out, let us
hope, that pain at least teaches us tenderness and
sympathy for others. So we need not follow
Martha through that lonesome, wretched day.
It was just twenty-four hours since she had parted
from Rab; and Martha sat before the dying coals

in the fire-place, with her head resting on the old,
rush-bottom chair. For the first time in her brave,
young life she had owned to herself her father's
faults, and the privations and loneliness they
brought upon her. She made a sad picture of
desolation, and Isabel Morey, standing in the door-
way, felt grateful for her own happy life, as she
realized what Martha's must be.
Martha," she cried, I 've come to bring you
the money."
Martha raised herself, and looked with a shiver
at Rab's empty place. It 's too late," said she.
Oh," cried Isabel, impulsively, "why did you
let them kill him so soon ?"
Ask Bill," said Martha, with a weary sigh.
But Bill, who had just come in from the stable,
grinned in his usual simple way, and went out
again. And Martha dropped her head back in its
place on the chair.
Something in the little figure appealed to every
good impulse of Isabel's heart.
Martha," she cried, "we are relations, as you
said. I did not know it before last night, but now
I am glad of it; and I believe you will forgive me,
and we shall be friends."
"Oh," said Martha, "even the girls here at
river end despise me, and you-- But the
words were smothered on Isabel's shoulder; for the
two little descendants of old John Morey were
locked in each other's arms.
And then the strangest thing happened. In the
door stood two Scotch collies: one belonged to the
Moreys on the hill, and the other was-
"Rab screamed Martha.
Yaas, it's Rab," said Bill Swift's voice. If
this 'ere young lady wants to pay the dog-tax,
here 's a chance."
And you did n't shoot him, dear, dear Bill?"
cried Martha.
S'pose I 'd shoot Rab ? Pooh I 'm not so silly
as some folks thinkme," answered Bill. "No, no;
I jest shot at a crow, and I tied Rab up in my old
shed at home."
From this time, the two Morey girls and the two
Scotch collies became the four best friends in
Cloverbank. Martha overcame her shyness, and
paid many a delightful visit to the big house on
the hill, where, in spite of her faded frocks, they
could no more despise her than a moonbeam or a
violet-sweet, gentle little Martha. And the rich
Moreys' love for her became the channel through
which flowed many of the good and inspiring things
of this life, which made her own full and happy.

544 THE DOVES AT MENDON. [MAY,

--A

6. j At 1%t
t.7.

ii-J
I- ri I'd: jr.'"- I"~ !~ I. r r

-~ ~ ~ ~~~i %gr4tr- e4t

AA
A",r

YY
-i1.4

SN"

7~7

AW .......

-5 I I.- CT -
Ii ~ kri'H i1 h*! -.1 AflilY

111 iiI b .
1 '[11i A L.C..
:t! rc. -L I Jr.-:
I ~ ~ (, '.j nI ; di

Calling the doves at Mendon!

THE DOVES AT MENDON.

Bibv Alice with ride bhue eve
11\' -h .:h l.- n .: .-r i rl' ,._ :u r i tti .
% \ 'n til.: _1 ,. h i i ', ,, i r -1,i i,' r '.,i l .. i
j. it, [ il. ..- I +iT .J u i- .n. ,:. H,: .
i -.r i, 1 t : .:... h,: :rh. r : .,

-i h r ,' l ,: L r-.- I' ,

h. i. i..h .., C.. : 11-C.l.,
I hj .1-c r. 1 l 'n.j. C .

I 2"~; p

4- I.-

Itgv
- '4*

---

-- 4 ..: .... .. - .
s-'"l- '-^ -

dlu H o.ii.i r r ih r.ii.

S ,I .... .'1 . 1 1 :. i i ii

.1 r ll : r __ _ r.. .. l r : : [
.. ._ -!"A .. : ir.[.i l rn
-. the :o nri ,' -. . i.. .-
~~`!II ~~; .j :i -.-+.-. .!, I ..'.-21

(1~ ~~ i ::~:~ i ~: i r i, i .-\! !!i-.

THE DOVES AT MENDON.

They hop on the porch where the baby sits,
They come and go, as a shadow flits,
Now here, now there, while in and out
They crowd and jostle each other about;
Till one, grown bolder than all the rest,-
A snow-white dove with an arching breast,-
Softly lights on her outstretched hand
Under the vines at Mendon.

" Coo! coo! coo! says Arn6,
Calling the doves at Mendon!

A sound, a motion, a flash of wings,-
They are gone-like a dream of heavenly
things!
The doves have flown and the porch is
still,
And the shadows gather on vale and hill.
Then sinks the sun, and the mountain breeze
Stirs in the tremulous maple trees;
While Love and Peace, as the night comes
down,
Brood over quiet Mendon! -

i.
Y

a
-~r

546

i.'.
;F ;e'-\

SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.

FIFTH SPINNING-WHEEL STORY.

BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.

THAT'S the sort I like," said Geoff, as the
story ended; Onawandah was a trump, and I'd
give a good deal to know such a fellow and go
hunting with him. Got any more like it, Aunty? "
Perhaps; but it is the girls' turn now, and here
is a quiet little story that teaches the same lesson
in a different way. It contains a hint which some
of you would better take," and Aunt Elinor glanced
around the circle with a smile that set her hearers
on the alert to see who was to be hit.
Hope it isn't very moral," said Geoff, with a
boyish dislike of being preached at.
"It wont harm you to listen and take the moral
to heart, my lad. Wild horses, gold mines, and
sea scrapes are not the only things worth reading
about. If you ever do half so much good in the
world as the people in this story did, I shall be proud
of you," answered Aunt Elinor, so soberly that
Geoff folded his hands and tried to look meekly
impressed.
"Is it true ? asked Min.
"Yes. I heard 'Abby' tell it herself, and saw
the silk stocking and the scar."
That sounds very interesting. I do like to
hear about good clothes and awful accidents,"
cried the girl, forgetting to spin in her eagerness
to listen.
They all laughed at her odd mixture of tastes,
.and then heard the story of

LITTLE THINGS.

Abigail sat reading "Rasselas" aloud to her
father while he shaved, pausing now and then to

explain a word or correct the girl's pronunciation;
for this was a lesson as well as a pleasure. The
handsome man, in his nankin dressing-gown, ruf-
fled shirt, black small-clothes, and silk stockings,
stood before the tall, old-fashioned bureau, looking
often from the reflection of his own ruddy face to
the pale one beside him, with an expression of ten-
der pride, whth plainly showed how dear his
young daughter was to him.
Abby was a slender girl of fifteen, in a short-
waisted gingham gown, with a muslin tucker, dimity
apron,.and morocco shoes on a pair of small feet
demurely crossed before her. A blue-eyed, brown-
haired little creature, with a broad brow, and a
sweet mouth, evidently both intelligent and affec-
tionate; for she heartily enjoyed the story, and
answered her father's approving glances with a face
full of the loving reverence so beautiful to see.
Schools were not abundant in 1815 ; and, after
learning to read, spell, sew, and cipher a little, at
some dame school, girls were left to pick up knowl-
edge as they could; while the brothers went to
college or were apprenticed to some trade. But
the few things they did study were well learned;
so that Abby's reading was a pleasure to hear. She
wrote a fine, clear hand, seldom misspelt a word,
kept her own little account-book in good order,
and already made her father's shirts, hemstitching
the linen cambric ruffles with the daintiest skill,
and turning out button-holes any one might be
proud of. These accomplishments did not satisfy
her, however, and she longed to know much more,
-to do and be something great and good,-with
the sincere longing of an earnest, thoughtful girl.

~PI II_ _I I II_

A J

y ~ '

SPINNING-WH-EEL STORIES.

These morning talks with her father were pre-
cious half-hours to her; for they not only read
and discussed well-chosen books, but Abby opened.
her heart freely, and received his wise counsels.
with a grateful docility which helped to inake her
after-life as benevolent and blessed as his.
I don't wonder that Rasselas wanted to get out
of the Happy Valley and see the world for himself.
I often feel so, and long to go and have advent-
ures, like the people I read about. To do some-
thing very splendid, and be brave and great and
loved and honored," said Abby, as she closed the
book and looked out of the open window with
wistful eyes; for the chestnut trees were rustling
in the May sunshine, and spring was stirring in the
girl's heart, as well as in the budding boughs and
early flowers on the green bank below.
Do not be in a hurry to leave your Hjppy
Valley, my dear; but help to keep it so by doing
your part well. The happiness of life depends very
much on little things; and one can be brave and
great and good, while making small sacrifices and
doing small duties faithfully and cheerfully,",an-
swered Mr. Lyon, with the look of one who prac-
ticed what he preached.
But my little things are so stupid and easy.
Sewing, and learning to pickle and preserve, and
going out to tea when I don't want to, and helping
mother, are 'none of them romantic or exciting
duties and sacrifices. If I could take care of poor
people, or be a colonel in.a splendid uniform and
march with drums and trumpets, or even a fire-
warden and run to save lives and property, and be
loved and thanked and trusted, as you are, I should
be conrten.t.Id," continued Abby, kindling at the
thought; for she considered her father the noblest
of men, and glowed with pride when she saw him
in his.regimentals on great occasions, or when she
helped him into the leather cap and coat, and
gave him the lantern, staff, and canvas bags he
used, as fire-warden, long before steam-engines,
hook and ladder companies, and electric alarms
were dreamed of.
Mr. Lyon laughed as he washed his face at the
queer, thre,e-cornered stand, and then sat down to
have his hair tied in a queue by his daughter, who
prided herself on doing this as well as a barber.
"Ah, my girl, it's not the things that make the
most noise and show that are the bravest and the
best; but the everlasting patience, charity, and
courage needed to bear our daily trials like good
Christians." And the smile changed to a sigh, for
the excellent man knew the value of these virtues
and their rarity.
Yes, I know, sir; but it is so splendid to be a
hero, and have the world ring'with one's glory,
like Washington and Lafayette, or Perry, Hull, and

Lawrence," said Abby, winding the black ribbon so
energetically that it nearly broke; for her head was
full of the brave deeds performed in the wars of 1775
and 1812-the latter of which she well remembered.
Easy, my dear, easy !-remember that it was
the faithful doing of small things which fitted
these men to do the grand deeds well, when the
time came. Heroes are not made in a minute,
and we never know what we may be called upon
to live through. Train yourself now to be skillful,
prompt, courageous, and kind; then when the
duty or the danger comes you will be prepared for
it. 'Keep your spindle ready and the Lord will
send the flax,' as the old proverb says."
"I will, father, and remember the other saying
that you like and live up to, 'Do right and leave
the consequences to God,'" answered Abby, with
her arm abbut his neck and a soft cheek against
his, feeling that with such an example before her
she ought not to fail.
That's my good girl! Come, now, begin at
once. Here's a little thing to do, a very homely
one, but useful, and some honor may be gained by
doing it nicely; for, if you '11 darn this bad rent in
my new stocking, I '11 give you five dollars."
As he spoke, Mr. Lyon handed her a heavy silk
stocking with a great "barn-door" tear in the
calf. He was rather proud of his handsome legs
and dressed them with care, importing hose of
unusual fineness for state occasions; being one of
the old-time gentlemen whose stately elegance
added dignity to any scene.
Abby groaned as she examined the hole torn by
a nail, for it was a very bad one, and she knew that,
if not well done, the costly stocking would be ruined.
She hated to darn, infinitely preferring to read, or
study Latin with her brother, instead of repairing
old damask, muslin gowns, and the family hose.
But she did it well, excelling her elder sister in
this branch of needle-work; so she could not refuse,
though the sacrifice of time and taste would have
been almost impossible for any one but father.
I'll try, sir, and you shall pay me with a kiss;
five dollars is too much for such a thing," she said,
smiling at him as she put the stocking into the
capacious pocket where girls kept housewife,
scissors, thimble, pin-ball, and a-bit of lovage or
flag-root in those days.
I'm not so sure that you '11 find it an easy job,
but remember Bruce and his spider, and don't be
conquered by the little thing.' Now, I must be off.
Good-bye, my darling," and Mr. Lyon's dark eyes
twinkled as he thought of the task he had set her;
for it seemed as if nothing short of a miracle could
restore his damaged stocking.
Abby forgot her heroics and ran to get his hat
and cane, to receive his morning kiss, and answer

548

[MAY,

SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.

549

the salute he always paused at the street corner to
give her before he went away to the many cares
and labors of his own busy day. But while she
put her little room in order, dusted the parlor,
and clapped laces for her mother, who, like most
ladies long ago, did up her own caps and turbans,
Abby was thinking over the late conversation, and
wondering if strict attention to small affairs would
really lead to something good or glorious in the end.
When her other duties were done, she resolutely
sat down to the detested darn, although it would
have been much pleasanter to help her sister cut
out green satin leaves and quill up pink ribbon
into roses for a garland to festoon the skirt of a
new white dress.
Hour after hour she worked, slowly and carefully
weaving the torn edges together, stitch by stitch,
till her eyes ached and the delicate needle grew
rusty in her warm hand. Her mother begged
her to stop and rest, sister Catharine called her to
come and see how well the garland looked, and a
friend came to take her to drive. But she refused
to stir, and kept at her weaving, as patiently as
King Robert's spider, picking out a bit that puck-
ered, turning the corner with breathless care, and
rapping it with her thimble on the wooden egg
till it lay flat. Then she waited till an iron was
heated, and pressed it nicely, finishing in time to
put it on her father's bureau, where he would see it
when he dressed for dinner.
"Nearly four hours over that dreadful darn!
But it's done now, and hardly shows, so I do think
I 've earned my money. I shall buy that work-
box I have wanted so long. The inlaid one, with
nice velvet beds for the thimble, scissors, and bod-
kin, and a glass in the cover, and a little drawer
for my silk-reels. Father will like that, and I
shall be proud to show it."
These agreeable thoughts were passing through
Abby's mind as she went into the front yard for a
breath of air, after her long task was over. Tulips
and hyacinths were blooming there, and, peeping
through the bars of the gate, stood a little girl
wistfully watching the gay blossoms and enjoying
their perfume. Now, Abby was fond of her gar-
den, and had been hurrying the early flowers, that
they might be ready for her father's birthday nose-
gay, so her first impulse was to feign that she did
not see the child, for she did not want to give away
a single tulip. But the morning talk way fresh in
her memory, and presently she thought:
Here is a little thing I can do," and ashamed
of the selfish impulse, she gathered several of her
finest flowers and offered them, saying cordially:
"I think you would like these? Please take
them, and by and by when there are more, you
shall have prettier ones."

Oh, thank you I did want some for mamma.
She is ill, and will be so pleased," was the grate-
ful answer, given with a little curtsey and a smile
that made the wistful face a very happy one.
Do you live near by ?" asked Abby, seeing at
once from the child's speech and manner that she
was both well-bred and grateful.
"Just around the corner. We are English, and
papa is dead. Mamma kept school in another
place till she was too ill, and now I take care of
her and the children as well as I can."
The little girl of twelve, in her black frock, with
a face far too old and anxious for her years, was so
innocently pathetic as she told the sad story, that
Abby's tender heart was touched, and an impetu-
ous desire to do something at once made her
exclaim:
"Wait a minute, and I '11 send something bet-
ter than flowers. Would n't your mother like
some wine jelly? I helped make it, and have a
glassful all my own."
"Indeed she would!" began the child, blushing
with pleasure; for the poor lady needed just such
delicacies, but thought only of the children's wants.
Waiting to hear no more, Abby ran in to get
her offering, and came back beaming with benevo-
lent good-will.
"As it is not far and you have that big basket,
I'11 go with you and help carry the things, if I
may? My mother will let me, and my father will
come and see you, I'm sure, if you'd like to have
him. He takes care of everybody, and is the best
and wisest man in all the world."
Lucy Mayhew accepted these kind offers with
childish confidence, thinking the young lady a
sort of angel in a coal-scuttle bonnet, and the two
went chatting along, good friends at once; for
Abby had very engaging manners, and her cheer-
ful face won its way everywhere.
She found the English family a very interesting
one, for the mother was a gentlewoman, and in
sore straits now; being unable to use her accom-
plishments any longer, and failing fast, with no
friends to protect the four little children she must
soon leave alone in a strange land.
If they were only cared for, I could go in peace;
but it breaks my heart to think of them in an
asylum, when they need a home," said the poor
lady, telling her greatest anxiety to this sympa-
thetic young visitor; while Lucy regaled the noses
of the eager little ones with delicious sniffs of the
pink and blue hyacinths.
"Tell father all about it, and he 'll know just
what to do. He always does, and everyone goes
to him. May he come and see you, ma'am?"
said Abby, longing to take them all home at once.
"He will be as welcome as an angel from

SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.

Heaven, my child. I am failing very fast, and
help and comfort are sorely needed," answered
the grateful woman, with wet eyes and a heart too
full for many thanks.
Abby's eyes were full also, and promising to
"send father soon," she went away, little dream-
ing that the handful of flowers and a few kind
words were the first links in a chain of events that
brought a blessing into her own home.
She waited anxiously for her father's return, and
blushed with pleasure as he said, after examining
her morning's work:
"Wonderfully well done, my dear Your mother
says she could n't have done it better herself."
I 'm sorry that it shows at all; but it was im-
possible to hide that corner, and if you wear it on
the inside of the leg, it wont be seen much," ex-
plained Abby, anxiously.
It shows just enough for me to know where to
point when I boast of my girl's patience and skill.
People say I 'm making a blue-stocking of you,
because we read Johnson; but my black stocking
will prove that I have n't spoilt you yet," said Mr.
Lyon, pinching her cheek, as they went down to
dinner arm in arm.
Literary ladies were looked upon with awe, and
by many with disapproval, in those days, so Abby's
studious tastes were criticised by the good cousins
and aunts, who feared she might do something
peculiar; though, years later, they were very proud
of the fine letters she wrote and the intellectual
society which she had unconsciously fitted herself
to enjoy and adorn.
Abby laughed at her father's joke, but said no
more just then; for young people sat silent at table
while their elders talked. She longed to tell about
Lucy; and when dessert came, she drew her chair
near to her father's, that she might pick the kernels
from his walnuts and drop them into his wine,
waiting till he said, as usual: Now, little girl, let's
take comfort." For both enjoyed the hour of rest
he allowed himself in the middle of the day.
On this occasion he varied the remark by add-
ing, as he took a bill from his pocket-book and
gave it to her with a kiss :
Well-earned money, my dear, and most cheer-
fully paid."
"Thank you, sir! It seems a great deal for
such a little job. But I do want it very much.
May I tell you how I 'd like to spend it, father ? "
cried Abby, beaming with the sweet delight of
helping others.
Yes, child; come and tell me. Something for
sister, I suspect; or a new book, perhaps." And,
drawing her to his knee, Mr. Lyon waited with a
face full of benignant interest in her little confi-
dences.

She told her story eagerly and well, exclaiming
as she ended: "And now, I 'm so glad, so very
glad; I have this money, all my own, to spend
for those dear little things I know you '11 help
them; but it 's so nice to be able to do my part,
and giving away is such a pleasure."
You are your father's own daughter in that,
child. I must go and get my contribution ready,
or I shall be left out," said Mrs. Lyon, hastening
away to add one more charity to the many which
made her quiet life so beautiful.
I will go and see our neighbor this evening,
and you shall come with me. You see, my girl,
that the homely 'little job' is likely to be a large
and pleasant one, and you have earned your part
in it. Do the duty that,comes first, and one never
knows what beautiful experience it may blossom
into. Use your little earnings as you like, and God
bless you, my dear."
So Abby had her part in the happy days that
came to the Mayhews, and enjoyed it more than a
dozen work-boxes; while her father was never tired
of showing the handsome darn and telling the
story of it.
Help and comfort were much needed around the
corner; for very soon the poor lady died. But her
confidence in the new friends raised up to her was
not misplaced; and when all was over, and people
asked, What will become of the children ? Mr.
Lyon answered the sad question by leading the
four little orphans to his own house and keeping
them till good homes were found for the three
youngest.
Lucy was heart-broken, and clung to Abby in
her sorrow, as if nothing else could console her for
all she had lost. No one had the heart to speak
of sending her away at present; and, before long,
the grateful little creature had won a place for her-
self which she never forfeited.
It was good for Abby to have a care of this sort,
and her generous nature enjoyed it thoroughly, as
she played elder sister in the sweetest way. It was
her first real lesson in the charity that made her
after-life so rich and beautiful; but then she little
dreamed how well she was to be repaid for her
small share in the good work which proved to be a
blessing to them all.
Soon, preparations for sister Catherine's wedding
produced a pleasant bustle in the house, and both
the younger girls were as busy as bees, helping
everywhere. Dressmakers ripped and stitched up-
stairs, visitors gossiped in the parlor, and cooks
simmered and scolded in the kitchen; while not-
able Madam Lyon presided over the household,
keeping the peace and gently bringing order out
of chaos.
Abby had a new sprigged muslin frock, with a

[MAY,,

550

SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.

white sash, and her first pair of silk stockings, a
present from her father. A bunch of pink roses
gave the finishing touch, and she turned up her
hair with a tortoise-shell comb in honor of the
occasion.
All the relations and there were many of them
- came to the wedding, and the hospitable man-
sion was crowded with old and young. A fine
breakfast was prepared, a line of carriages filled
the quiet street, and troops of stately ladies and
gentlemen came marching in ; for the Lyons were
a much-honored family.
The interesting moment arrived at last, the min-
ister opened his book, the lovely bride entered with
her groom, and a solemn silence fell upon the
rustling crowd. Abby was much excited, and felt
that she was about to disgrace herself by crying.
Fortunately she stood near the door, and finding
that a sob would come at thought of her dear sister
going away forever, she slipped out and ran up-
stairs to hide her tears in the back bedroom,
where she was put to accommodate guests.
As she opened the door, a puff of smoke made
her catch her breath, then run to throw open the
window before she turned to look for the fallen
brand. A fire had been kindled in this room a short
time before, and, to Abby's dismay, the sudden
draught fanned the smoldering sparks which had
crept from a fallen log to the mop-board and.
thence around the wooden mantel-piece. A sus-
picious crackling was heard, little tongues of flame
darted from the cracks, and the air was full of
smoke.
Abby's first impulse was to fly down-stairs,
screaming fire at the top of her voice; her
second was to stand still and think what to do,-for
an instant's recollection showed her what terror
and confusion such a cry would produce in the
crowded house, and how unseemly a panic would
be at such a time.
If I could only get at father! But I can't with-
out scaring everyone. What would he do? I 've
heard him tell about fires, and how to put them
out, I know-stop the draught first," and Abby
shut the window. "Now water and wet blankets,"
and away she ran to the bath-room, and filling a
pail, dashed the water over the burning wood.
Then, pulling the blankets from off the bed, she
wet them as well as she could, and hung them up
before the fire-place, going to and fro for more
water till the smoke ceased to pour out and the
crackling stopped.
These energetic measures were taken just in time
to prevent a serious fire, and when Abby dared to
rest a moment with her eyes on the chimney, fear-
ing the treacherous blaze might burst out in a new
place, she discovered that her clothes were wet,

her face blackened, her hands blistered, and her
breath gone.
No matter," she thought, still too much elated
with her success to feel the pain. Father will be
pleased, I know; for this is what he would call an
emergency, and I 've had my wits about me. I
wish mother would come-O, dear how queerly
I feel -" and in the midst of her self-congrat-
ulation, poor little Abby fainted away; slipping
to the floor and lying there like a new sort of
Casabianca, faithful at her post.
Lucy found her very soon, having missed her
and come to look for her the minute the service
was over. Much frightened, she ran down again
and tried to tell Mr. and Mrs. Lyon quietly. But
her pale face alarmed every one, and when Abby
came to herself, she was in her father's arms,
being carried from the scene of devastation to her
mother's room, where a crowd of anxious relatives
received her like a conquering hero.
"Well done, my brave little fire-warden I 'm
proud of you were the first words she-heard, and
they were more reviving than the burnt feathers
under her nose, or the lavender-water plentifully
sprinkled over her by her mother and sister.
With that hearty commendation, her father left
her to see that all was safe, and Abby found that
another sort of courage was needed to support her
through the next half-hour of trial; for her hands
were badly burned, and each of the excellent rela-
tives suggested a different remedy.
"Flour them !" cried Aunt Sally, fanning her
violently.
Goose-oil and cotton-batting," suggested Aunt
Patty.
Nothing so good as lard," pronounced Aunt
Nabby.
"I always use dry starch or a piece of salt
pork," added cousin Lucretia.
Butter them "commanded grandma. That's
what I did when my Joseph fell into the boiler and
came out with his blessed little legs the color of
lobsters. Butter them, Dolly."
That settled the vexed question, and Abby's
hands were well buttered, while a hearty laugh
composed the spirits of the agitated party; for the
contrast between grandma's words and her splen-
did appearance, as she sat erect in the big arm-
chair issuing commands like a general in silver-
gray satin and an imposing turban, was very
funny.
Then Abby was left to repose, with Lucy and
old Nurse beside her, while the rest went down to
eat the wedding feast and see the happy pair off in
a chaise, with the portmanteau slung underneath,
on their quiet honey-moon trip to Pomfret.
When the bustle was all over, Abby found her-

SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.

self a heroine in her small circle of admiring
friends and neighbors, who praised and petted her
as if she had saved the city from destruction. She
needed comfort very much, for one hand was so
seriously injured that it never entirely recovered
from the deep burn which contracted two of her
finger-tips. This was a great sorrow to the poor
girl; for she could no longer play on her piano, and
was forced to content herself with singing like a
lark when all joined in the sweet old ballads for-'
gotten now.
It was a misfortune, but it had its happy side;
for, during the long months when she was partially
helpless, books were her solace, and she studied
many things which other duties or pleasures would
have crowded out if "Abby's poor hand had not
been an excuse for such liberty and indulgence.
It did not make her selfish, however, for while
regretting her uselessness, she unexpectedly found
work to do that made her own life happy by
cheering that of another.
Lucy proved to be a most intelligent child; and
when Abby asked what return she could make for
all the little girl's loving service during her trouble,
she discovered that help about lessons would be
the favor most desired. Lucy's too early cares
had kept her from learning much, and now that
she had leisure, weak eyes forbade study, and she
longed vainly to get on as her new friend did; for
Abby was her model in all things,-looked up to
with admiration, love, and wonder.
Father, I've been thinking that I might read
Lucy's lessons to her and hear her recite. Then
she would n't grieve about being backward, and
I can be eyes to her as she is hands to me. I can't
sew or work now, but I can teach the little I know.
May I, sir ?" asked Abby, one morning, after read-
ing a paper in the Spectator, and having a pleas-
ant talk about it during the happy half-hour.
"A capital plan, Daughter, if you are sure you
can keep on. To begin and then fail would leave
the child worse off for the hope and disappoint-
ment. It will be tiresome to go on day after day,
so think well before you propose it," answered her
father, much pleased with the idea.
"I can do it, and I will! If I get tired, I'll look
at you and mother, always so faithful to what you
undertake, and remember my motto," cried Abby,
anxious to follow the example set her in the daily
life of these good parents.
A hearty hand-shake rewarded her, and she set
about the new task with a resolute purpose to suc-
ceed. It was hard at first to go back to her early
lessons and read them over and over again to
eager Lucy, who did her best to understand, re-
member, and recite. But good-will and gratitude
worked wonders; and day after day, week after

week, month after month, the teaching went on, to
the great surprise and satisfaction of those who
watched this labor of love. Both learned much,
and a very strong, sweet friendship grew up, which
lasted till the young girls became old women.
For nearly two years the daily lessons were con-
tinued; then Lucy was ready and able to go to
school, and Abby free from the duty that had
grown a pleasure. Sister Catherine being gone,
she was the young lady of the house now, and be-
gan to go to a few parties, where she distinguished
herself by her graceful dancing and sprightly
though modest manners. She had grown strong
and rosy with the exercise her sensible mother
prescribed and her energetic father encouraged,
taking long walks with her to Roxbury and Dor-
chester on holidays, over bridges and around the
common before breakfast each morning, till the
pale little girl was a tall and blooming creature,
full of life and spirit. Not exactly beautiful, but
with a sweet, intelligent face, and the frank, cordial
ways that are so charming. Her brother Sam was
very proud of her, and liked to see her surrounded
by his friends at the merry-makings to which he
escorted her; for she talked as well as she danced,
and the older gentlemen enjoyed a good chat with
Miss Abby as much as the younger ones did the elab-
orate pigeon-wings and pirouettes then in vogue.
Among the older men was one whom Abby much
admired; for he had fought, traveled, and studied
more than most men of his age, and earned the
honors he wore so modestly. She was never tired
of asking him questions when they met, and he
never seemed tired of giving long, interesting re-
plies; so they often sat and talked while others
danced, and Abby never guessed that he was
studying her bright face and innocent heart as
eagerly as she listened to his agreeable conversa-
tion and stirring adventures.
Presently he came to the house with brother
Sam, who shared Abby's regard for him; and
there, while the young men amused themselves or
paid their respects to the elders, one of them was
still watching the tall girl with the crown of brown
hair, as she sat by her father, poured the tea for
Madam, laughed with her brother, or made bash-
ful Lucy share their pleasures; always so busy,
dutiful, and winning, that the visitor pronounced
Mr. Lyon's the most delightful house in Boston.
He heard all the little tales of Abby's youth from
Sam, and Lucy added'her tribute with the elo-
quence of a grateful heart; he saw how loved and
trusted she was, and he soon longed to know how
she would answer the question he desired to ask
her. Having received permission from Papa,, in
the decorous old style, he only waited for an oppor-
tunity to discover if charming Abigail would con-

552

[MAY,

SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.

sent to change her name from Lyon to Lamb; and, as
if her lesson was to be quite complete, a little thing
decided her fate and made a very happy woman
of the good girl.
On Abby's seventeenth birthday, there was to be a
party in her honor, at the hospitable family mansion,
to which all her friends were invited; and, when
she came down early to see that all was in order,
she found one impatient guest had already arrived.
It was not alone the consciousness that the new

it," said Abby, glad to find employment for her
eyes.
A minute 'afterward she was sorry she had
offered, for he accepted the little service with
thanks, and stood watching while she sat down at
her work-table and began to sew. She was very
sensitive about her hand, yet ashamed of being so ;
for the scar was inside and the drawn fingers
showed very little, as it is natural to half close
them. She hoped he had never seen it, and tried

"A I ,O, iA,,,; ,A ,,, TH G "T ,

"'I 'M AFRAID 1 'M GIVING YOU A DEAL OF TROUBLE,' SAID TIHE GENTLEMAN."'

pink taffety gown and the beautiful new head-
dress were very becoming which made her blush
so prettily as she thanked her friend for the fine
nosegay he brought her, but something in his
face, though he only wished her many happy
returns in a hearty way, and then added, laugh-
ing, as the last button flew off the glove he /was
awkwardly trying to fasten:
"It is evident that you did n't sew on these
buttons, Miss Abby. I 've observed that Sam's
never come off, and he says you always keep
them in order."
Let me put one on for you. It will take but a
moment, and you '11 be so uncomfortable without
VOL. XI.-36.

to hide it as she worked. But this, or some new
consciousness, made her usually nimble fingers
lose their skill, and she knotted the silk, split the
button, and dropped her thimble, growing angry
with herself for being so silly and getting so red
and flurried.
I 'm afraid I 'm giving you a deal of trouble,"
said the gentleman, who was watching the white
hands with great interest.
"No; it is I who am foolish about my burnt
hand," answered Abby, in her frank, impetuous
way. See how ugly.it is And she held it out
as if to punish herself for the girlish feeling she
despised.

/

_- I

M- S ,

"

THE SONG OF THE ROLLER SKATES.

The answer to this little outburst made her for-
get everything but the sweetest pleasure and sur-
prise; for, kissing the scarred palm with tender
respect, her lover said:
To me it is the finest and the dearest hand in
the world. I know the brave story, and I 've seen
the good this generous hand is never tired of doing.
I want it for my own. Will you give it to me,
dear? "
Abby must have answered yes"; for she wore a
new ring under her own glove that night, and
danced as if there were wings on the heels of her
pink shoes.
Whether the button ever got sewed on or not,
no one knows; but that bit of needlework was
even more successful than the other small job, for

THE SONG OF THI

BY

(The Start.)

Swoop-a-hoo swoop-a-hoo !
To the left, to the right;
Swoop-a-hoo swoop-a-hoo !
On our rollers so bright!
Swoop-a-hoo here we go;
All a-gliding along;
Swoop-a-hoo here we go;
With a roller-skate song!

Whiz-a-whir whiz-a-whir !
What a rush, what a stir !
All the children in town
Whizzing down, whizzing down!

(T/he wTur.)

Slower now. Have a care!
Here's the corner,-beware!
See the curb It is near;
We must carefully steer.

in due time there was a second wedding, without a
fire, and Abby went away to a happy home of her
own, leaving sister Lucy to fill her place and be
the most loving and faithful of daughters to her
benefactors while they lived.
Long years afterward, when she had children
and grandchildren about her, listening to the true
old stories that are the best, Abby used to say,
with her own cheerful laugh:
"My father and mother taught me many useful
lessons, but none more valuable than those I
learned that year; and I may honestly say that
patience, perseverance, courage, friendship and
love came out of that silk stocking. So let me
give you this bit of advice : Don't despise little
things, my dears "

E ROLLER SKATES.

A. C.

Sweep around, one and all!
Make the curve,-do not fall!
-That was gracefully done.
Hurrah for the fun !

Whiz-a-whir whiz-a-whir 1
What a rush, what a stir
Every child on the track
Whizzing back! whizzing back!

(Home again.)
Swoop-a-hoo swoop-a-hoo!
To the left,-to the right.
Swoop-a-hoo swoop-a-hoo !
All aglow with delight!
Swoop-a-hoo who's ahead?
Well, they 're all nearly there.
Swoop-a-hoo cheeks so red;
Full of laughter, the air !
Swoop-a-hoo swoop-a-hoo swoop-a-hoo I

[MAY,

TO na4ti081nee
Oouldwa lenvJ a rn I behind us;
Bul ito skcti on wheels
moeI 0re~ e ve
FOT n 0%7/ a C!ann 0 fin us.

HISTORIC BOYS.

OLAF OF NORWAY: THE BOY
VIKING.

[Afterward King Olaf II., of Norway.]
A. D, 1010.

OLD RANE, the helmsman, whose fierce mus-
taches and shaggy shoulder-mantle made him look
like some grim old northern wolf, held high in
air the great bison-horn filled with foaming mead.
Skoal to the Viking! Hael; was-hael! "f rose
his exultant shout. From a hundred sturdy throats
the cry reechoed till the vaulted hall of the Swede-
men's conquered castle rang again.
Skoalto the Viking Hael; was-hael! and in
the center of that throng of mail-clad men and
tossing spears, standing firm and fearless upon the
interlocked and uplifted shields of three stalwart
fighting-men, a stout-limbed lad of scarce thirteen,
with flowing light-brown hair and flushed and eager
face, brandished his sword vigorously in acknowl-
edgment of the jubilant shout that rang once
again through the dark and smoke-stained hall,
"Was-hael to the sea-wolf's son! Skoal to Olaf
the King!"
A fierce and warlike shout, boys and girls, to be
given in honor of so young a lad. But those were
fierce and warlike days when men were stirred by
the recital of bold and daring deeds -those old,
old days, eight hundred years ago, when Olaf, the
boy viking, the pirate chief of a hundred mail-
clad men, stood upon the uplifted shields of his
exultant fighting-men in the heavy-raftered ban-

queting-hall of the gray castle '1
of captured Sigtun, the oldest
of all the old Swedish cities.
Take your atlas and, turning
to the map of Sweden, place your finger on the
city of Stockholm. Do you notice that it lies at
the easterly end of a large lake ? That is the Mae-
lar, beautiful with winding channels, pine-covered
islands, and rocky shores. It is peaceful and quiet
now, and palace and villa and quaint northern
farm-house stand unmolested on its picturesque
borders. But channels, and islands, and rocky
shores have echoed and reechoed with the war-
shouts of many a fierce sea-rover since those far-off
days when Olaf, the boy viking, and his Norwegian
ships of war plowed through the narrow sea-strait,
and ravaged the fair shores of the Maelar with fire
and sword.
Stockholm, the "Venice of the North," as it is
called, was not then in existence; and little now
remains of old Sigtun save ruined walls.. But
travelers may still see the three tall towers of the
ancient town, and the great stone-heap, alongside
which young Olaf drew his ships of war, and over
which his pirate crew swarmed into Sigtun town,
and planted the victorious banner of the golden
serpent upon the conquered walls.
For this fair young Olaf came of hardy Norse
stock. His father, Harald Graenske, or "Grey-
mantle," one of the tributary kings of Norway,
had fallen a victim to the torture of the haughty
Swedish queen; and now his son, a boy of scarce
thirteen, but a warrior already by training and
from desire, came to avenge his father's death. His

t Hail and Health to the Viking "
* Copyright, 1883, by E. S. Brooks. All rights reserved.

HISTORIC BOYS.

mother, the queen Aasta, equipped a large dragon-
ship or war-vessel for her adventurous son, and
with the lad, as helmsman and guardian, was sent
old Rane, whom men called "the far-traveled,"
because he had sailed westward as far as England
and southward to N6rvasund (by which name they
then knew the Straits of Gibraltar). Boys tough-
ened quickly in those stirring days, and this lad
who, because he was commander of a dragon-ship,
was called Olaf the King,--though he had no land
to rule,-- was of viking blood, and quickly learned
the trade of war. Already, among the rocks and
sands of Sodermann, upon the Swedish coast, he
had won his first battle over a superior force of
Danish war-vessels.
Other ships of war joined him; the name of
Olaf the Brave was given him by right of daring
deeds, and Skoalto the Viking !" rang from the
sturdy throats of his followers as the little sea-
king was lifted in triumph upon the battle-dented
shields.
But a swift runner bursts into the gray hall of
Sigtun. "To your ships, O King; to your ships "
he cries. "Olaf, the Swedish king, men say, is
planting a forest of spears along the sea-strait,
and, except ye push out now, ye may not get out
at all! "
The nimble young chief sprang from the up-
raised shields.
"To your ships, Vikings, all!" he shouted.
Up with the serpent banner, and away "
Straight across the lake to the sea-strait, near
where Stockholm now stands, the vikings sailed,
young Olaf's dragon-ship taking the lead. But
all too late; for, across the narrow strait, the
Swedish king had stretched great chains, and had
filled up the channel with stocks and stones.
The boy viking stood by his dragon-headed
prow, and shook his clenched fist at the obstructed
sea-strait and the Swedish spears.
Shall we then land, Rane, and fight our way
through ? he asked.
Fight our way through ? said old Rane, who
had been in many another tight place in his years
of sea-roving, but none so close as this. "Why,
King, they be a hundred to one "
Well, may we not cut these chains, then?"
said impetuous Olaf.
"As soon think of cutting the solid earth,
King," said.the helmsman. /
"So; and why not, then?" young Olaf ex-
claimed, struck with a brilliant idea. Ho,
Sigvat," he said, turning to one of his men, what
was that lowland under the cliff which thou didst
tell me of? "
"'T is called the fen of Agnefit, O King,"
replied the man, pointing toward where it lay.

Why, then, my Rane," asked the boy, may
we not cut our way out through that lowland fen
to the open sea and liberty ?"
"'T is Olaf's own device," cried the delighted
helmsman, catching at his young chief's plan.
"Ho, war-wolves all, bite ye your way through
the Swedish fens! Up with the serpent banner,
and farewell to Olaf the Swede "
It seemed a narrow chance, but it was the only
one. And so, in the dead of night the Swedish
captives and stout Norse oarsmen were set to work,
and before day-break an open cut had been made
in the lowlands beneath Agnefit, or the Rock of
King Agne," where, by the town of Sodertelje,
the vikings' canal is still shown to travelers; the
waters of the lake came rushing through the cut,
and an open sea-strait waited young Olaf's fleet.
A strong breeze blew astern; the Norse rowers
steered the cumbrous ships with their long oars,
and with a mighty rush, through the new canal
and over all the shallows, out into the great Norr-
str6m, or North Stream, as the Baltic Sea was
called, the fleet passed in safety while the loud
war-horns blew the notes of triumph.
So the boy viking escaped from the trap of the
Swedish king, and then away he sailed to Gotland,
to Finland, and at last, "through the wild sea"
to Denmark, where he met a brother viking,
one Thorkell the Tall. The two chiefs struck
up a sort of partnership; and coasting southward
along the western shores of Denmark, they won
a sea-fight in the Ringkiobing fiord, among the
" sand hills of Jutland." And so business con-
tinued brisk with this curiously matched pirate
firm a giant and a boy until, under the cliffs
of Kinlimma, in Friesland, hasty word came to the
boy viking that the English king, Ethelred The
Unready," was calling for the help of all sturdy
fighters to win back his heritage and crown from
young king Cnut, or Canute the Dane, whose
father had seized the throne of England. Instantly,
Olaf, the ever ready, hoisted his blue and crimson
sails and steered his war-ships over sea to help
King Ethelred, the never ready. Up the Thames
and straight for London town he rowed.
Hail to the serpent banner Hail to Olaf the
Brave! said King Ethelred, as the war-horns
sounded-a welcome; and on the low shores of the
Isle of Dogs, just below the old city, the keels of
the Norse war-ships grounded swiftly, and the boy
viking and his followers leaped ashore. Thou
dost come in right good time with thy trusty
dragon-ships, young King," said King Ethelred;
"for the Danish robbers are full well entrenched
in London town and in my father Edgar's castle."
And then he told Olaf how, in the great trad-
ing place which is called Southwark," the Danes

1884.1

HISTORIC BOYS.

had raised a great work and dug large ditches,
and within had builded a bulwark of stone, timber
and turf, where they had stationed a large army."
And we would fain have taken this bulwark,"
added the King, "and did in sooth bear down
upon it with a great assault; but indeed we could
make naught of it."
And why not ? asked the young viking.
"Because," said King Ethelred, "upon the
bridge betwixt the castle and Southwark have the
ravaging Danes raised towers and parapets, breast
high, and thence they did cast down stones and
weapons upon us so that we could not prevail.
And now, Sea-King, what dost thou counsel?
How may we avenge ourselves of our enemies and
win the town ? "
Impetuous as ever, and impatient of obstacles,
the young viking said, "How? why, pull thou
down this bridge, King, and then may ye have
free river-way to thy castle."
"Break down great London Bridge, young
hero ?" cried the amazed king. "How may that
be ? Have we a Duke Samson among us to do so
great a feat ?"
"Lay me thy ships alongside mine, King, close
to this barricaded bridge," said the valorous boy,
"and I will vow to break it down, or ye may call
me caitiff and coward."
"Be it so," said Ethelred, the English king;
and all the war-chiefs echoed, "be it so! So
Olaf and his trusty Rane made ready the war
forces for the destruction of the bridge.
Old London Bridge was not what we should now
call an imposing structure, but our ancestors of
eight centuries back esteemed it quite a bridge.
The chronicler says that it was "so broad that
two wagons could pass each other upon it," and
under the bridge were piles driven into the bot-
tom of the river."
So young Olaf and old Rane put their heads to-
gether, and decided to wreck the bridge by a bold
viking stroke. And this is how it is told in the
"Heimskringla," or Saga of King Olaf:

"King Olaf ordered great platforms of floating wood to be tied
together with hazel bands, and for this he took down old houses;
and with these, as a roof, he covered over his ships so widely that
it reached over the ships' sides. Under this screen he set pillars, so
high and stout that there both was room for swinging their swords,
and the roofs were strong enough to withstand the stones cast down
upon them."

Now, out oars and pull for the bridge," young
Olaf commanded; and the roofed-over war-ships
were rowed close up to London Bridge.
And as they came near the bridge, the chroni-
cle says, "there were cast upon them, by the
Danes upon the bridge, so many stones and mis-
sile weapons, such as arrows and spears, that nei-

their helmet nor shield could hold out against it;
and the ships themselves were so greatly damaged
that many retreated out of it."
But the boy viking and his Norsemen were
there for a purpose, and were not to be driven
back by stones or spears or arrows. Straight ahead
they rowed, "quite up under the bridge."
Out cables, all, and lay them around the piles,"
the young sea-king shouted; and the strong, brave
rowers, unshipping their oars, reached out under
the roofs and passed the stout cables twice around
the wooden supports of the bridge. The loose end
was made fast to a cleat in the stern of each vessel,
and then, turning and heading down stream, King
Olaf's twenty stout war-ships waited his word.
Out oars !" he cried; "pull, war-birds Pull
all, as if ye were for Norway "
Forward and backward swayed the stout Norse
rowers; tighter and tighter pulled the cables; fast
down upon the straining war-ships rained. the
Danish spears and stones; but the wooden piles
under the great bridge were.loosened by the steady
tug of the cables, and soon with a sudden spurt the
Norse war-ships darted down the river, while the
slackened cables towed astern the captured piles of
London Bridge. A great shout went up from the
besiegers, and "now," says the chronicle, "as the
armed troops stood thick upon the bridge, and
there were likewise many heaps of stones and other
weapons upon it, the bridge gave way; and a great
part of the men upon it fell into the river, and all
the others fled-some into the castle, some into
Southwark." And before King Ethelred, "The
Unready," could pull his ships to the attack, young
Olaf's fighting-men had sprung ashore, and,
storming the Southwark earthworks, carried all
before them, and the Battle of London Bridge
was won.
So King Ethelred won back his kingdom, and
the boy viking was honored above all others. To
him was given the chief command in perilous ex-
peditions against the Danes, and the whole de-
fense of all the coast of England. North and
south along the coast he sailed with all his war-
ships, and Danes and Englishmen long remem-
bered the dashing but dubious ways of this young
sea-rover, who swept the English coast and claimed
his dues from'friend and foe alike. For those
were days of insecurity for merchant and trader
and farmer, and no man's wealth or life was safe
except as he paid ready tribute to the fierce Norse
allies of King Ethelred. But soon after this, King
Ethelred died, and young Olaf, thirsting for new
adventures, sailed away to the south and fought his
way all along the French coast as far as the mouth
of the river Garonne. Many castles he captured;
many rival vikings subdued; much spoil he gath-

[MAY,

HISTORIC BOYS.

ered; until at last his dragon-ships lay moored
under the walls of old Bordeaux, waiting for fair
winds to take him around to the Straits of Gibral-
tar, and so on "to the land of Jerusalem."
One day, in the booty-filled "fore-hold" of his
dragon-ship, the young sea-king lay asleep; and
suddenly, says the old record, he dreamt a won-
drous dream."
Olaf, great head of kings, attend 1 he heard
a deep voice call; and, looking up, the dreamer
seemed to see before him a great and important
man, but of a terrible appearance withal."
If that thou art Olaf the Brave, as men do call
thee," said the vision, "turn thyself to nobler
deeds than vikings' ravaging and this wandering
cruise. Turn back, turn back from thy purposeless
journey to the land of Jerusalem, where neither
honor nor fame awaits thee. Son of King Harald,
return thee to thy heritage; for thou shalt be King
over all Norway."
Then the vision vanished and the young rover
awoke to find himself alone, save for the sleeping
foot-boy across the cabin door-way. So he quickly
summoned old Rane, the helmsman, and told his
dream.
"'T was for thy awakening, King," said his stout
old follower. "'T was the great Olaf, thine uncle,
Olaf Tryggvesson the King, that didst call thee.
Win Norway, King, for the portent is that thou
and thine shall rule thy fatherland."
And the war-ships' prows were all turned north-
ward again, as the boy viking, following the
promise of his dream, steered homeward for Nor-
way and a throne.
Now in Norway Earl Eric was dead. For thir-
teen years he had usurped the throne that should
have been filled by one of the great King Olaf's
line; and, at his death, his handsome young son,
Earl Hakon the Fair, ruled in his father's stead.
And when young King Olaf heard this news, he
shouted for joy and cried to Rane:
"Now, home in haste, for Norway shall be
either Hakon's heritage or mine "
"'T is a fair match of youth againstt youth,"
said the trusty helmsman; and if but fair luck
go with thee, Norway shall be thine "
So, from a place called Furovald," somewhere
between the mouths of Humber and of Tees, on
the English coast, King Olaf, with but two stout
war-ships and two hundred and twenty "well-
armed and chosen persons," shook out his purple
sails to the North Sea blasts, and steered straight
for Norway.
And now news comes that Earl Hakon, with a
single war-ship, is steering north from Sogne Fiord;
and Olaf, pressing on, lays his two ships on either
side of a narrow strait, or channel, in Sandunga

Sound. Here he stripped his ships of all their
war-gear, and stretched a great cable deep in the
water, across the narrow strait. Then he wound
the cable ends around the capstans, ordered all his
fighting-men out of sight, and waited for his rival.
Soon Earl Hakon's war-ship, crowded with rowers
and fighting-men, entered the strait. Seeing, as he
supposed, but two harmless merchant-vessels lying
on either side of the channel, the young earl bade
his rowers pull between the two. Suddenly there
is a stir on the quiet merchant-vessels. The cap-
stan bars are manned; the sunken cable is drawn
taut. Up goes the stern of Earl Hakon's entrapped
war-ship; down plunges her prow into the waves,
and the water pours into the doomed boat. A
loud shout is heard; the quiet merchant-vessels
swarm with mail-clad men, and the air is filled with
a shower of stones, and spears, and arrows. The
surprise is complete. Tighter draws the cable;
over topples Earl Hakon's vessel, and he and all his
men are among the billows struggling for life.
" So," saystherecord, King Olaf took Earl Hakon
and all his men whom they could get hold of out
of the water and made them prisoners ; but some
were killed and some were drowned."
Into the fore-hold" of the King's ship the
captive earl was led a prisoner, and there the
young rivals for Norway's crown .faced each other.
The two lads were of nearly the same age, be-
tween sixteen and seventeen, -and young Earl
Hakon was considered the handsomest youth in
all Norway. His helmet was gone, his sword was
lost, his ring-steel suit was sadly disarranged, and
his long hair, fine as silk," was "bound about
his head with a gold ornament." Fully expecting
the fate of all captives in those cruel days, in-
stant death,--the young earl nevertheless faced
his boy conqueror proudly, resolvedto meet his fate
like a man.
They speak truth who say of the house of Eric
that ye be handsome men," said the King, study-
ing his prisoner's face. But now, Earl, even
though thou be fair to look upon, thy luck hath
failed thee at last."
Fortune changes," said the young earl. We
both be boys; and thou, King, art perchance the
shrewder youth. Yet, had we looked for such a
trick as thou hast played upon us, we had not
thus been tripped upon thy sunken cables. Better
luck next time."
"Next time! echoed the King; dost thou
not know, Earl, that as thou standest there, a pris-
oner, there may be no 'next time' for thee ?"
The young captive understood full well the
meaning of the words. Yes, King," he said;
it must be only as thou mayst determine. Man
can die but once. Speak on; I am ready But

i884.]

Olaf said: What wilt thou give me, Earl, if at Nothing," said the generous young viking,
this time I do let thee go, whole and unhurt ? advancing nearer to his handsome rival. As

1! ,' -
iJ l / *r,

"
"SKOAL TO THE VIKING!
"'T is not what I may give, but what thou thou did'st say, we both be boys, and life is
mayst take, King," the earl made answer. I all before us. Earl, I give thee thy life, do thou
am thy prisoner; what wilt thou take to free me ?" but take oath before me to leave this my realm of

HISTORIC BOYS.

[MAY,

HISTORIC BOYS.

Norway, to give up thy kingdom, and never to do
battle against me hereafter."
The conquered earl bent his fair young head.
"Thou art a generous chief, King Olaf," he
said. I take my life as thou dost give it, and
all shalt be as thou wilt."
So Earl Hakon took the oath, and King Olaf
righted his rival's capsized war-ship, refitted it
from his own stores of booty, and thus the two
lads parted; the young earl sailing off to his uncle,
King Canute, in England, and the boy viking
hastening eastward to Vigen, where lived his
mother, the Queen Aasta, whom he had not seen
for full five years.
It is harvest-time in the year 1014. Without
and within the long, low house of Sigurd Syr, at
Vigen, all is excitement; for word has come that
Olaf the sea-king has returned to his native land,
and is even now on his way to this, his mother's
house. Gay stuffs decorate the dull walls of the
great-room, clean straw covers the earth-floor,
and upon the long, four-cornered tables is spread
a mighty feast of mead and ale and coarse but
hearty food, such as the old Norse heroes drew
their strength and muscle from. At the door-way
stands the Queen Aasta and her maidens, while
before the entrance, with thirty "well-clothed
men," waits young Olaf's step-father, wise Sigurd
Syr, gorgeous in a jeweled suit, a scarlet cloak,
and a glittering golden helmet. The watchers on
the house-tops hear a distant shout, now another
and nearer one, and soon, down the highway, they
catch the gleam of steel and the waving of many
banners; and now they can distinguish the stal-
wart forms of Olaf's chosen hundred men, their
shining coats of ring-mail, their foreign helmets,
and their crossleted shields flashing in the sun.
In the very front rides old Rane, the helmsman,
bearing the great white banner blazoned with the
golden serpent, and, behind him, cased in golden
armor, his long brown hair flowing over his sturdy
shoulders, rides the boy viking, Olaf of Norway.
It was a brave home-coming; and as the stout
young hero, leaping from his horse, knelt to re-
ceive his mother's welcoming kiss, the people
shouted for joy, the banners waved, and the war-
horns played their loudest.
The hero of nine great sea-fights, and of many

smaller ones, before he was seventeen, young Olaf
Haraldson was a remarkable boy, even in the days
when all boys aimed to be battle-tried heroes.
Toughened in frame and fiber by his five years of
sea-roving, he had become strong and self-reliant,
a man in action though but a boy in years.
I am come," he said to his mother and his
step-father, "to take the heritage of my forefathers.
But not from Danish nor from Swedish kings will I
supplicate that which is mine by right. Either I
shall bring all this kingdom of Norway under my
rule, or I shall fall here upon my inheritance in the
land of my fathers."
These were bold words for a boy of seventeen.
But they were not idle boastings. Before a year
had passed, young Olaf's pluck and courage had
won the day, and in harvest-time, in the year IoiS,
being then but little more than eighteen years old,
he was crowned King of Norway in the Drontheim,
or Throne-home," of Nidaros, the royal city, now
called on your atlas the city of Drontheim. For
fifteen years King Olaf the Second ruled his- realm
of Norway. The old record says that he was "a
good and very gentle man "; but history shows his
goodness and gentleness to have been of a rough
and savage kind. The wild and stern experiences
of his viking days lived again even in his attempts
to reform and benefit his land. When he who
had himself been a pirate tried to put down piracy,
and he who had been a wild young robber sought
to force all Norway to become Christian, he did
these things in so fierce and cruel a way that at
last his subjects rebelled, and King Canute came
over with a great army to wrest the throne from
him.- On the bloody field of Stiklestad, July 29,
1030, the stern King Olaf fell.
So King Canute conquered Norway; but after
his death, Olaf's son, Magnus the Good, regained
his father's throne. The people, sorrowful at their
rebellion against King Olaf, forgot his stern and
cruel ways, and magnified all his good deeds might-
ily. And, after King Magnus died, his descendants
ruled in Norway for nearly four hundred years; and
thus was brought to pass the promise of the dream
that, in the "fore-hold" of the great dragon-ship,
under the walls of old Bordeaux, came so many
years before to the daring and sturdy young Olaf of
Norway, the Boy Viking.

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.

"LOOK OUT, THERE !

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.*

BY MAURICE THOMPSON.

CHAPTER I.

CONSIDERING THE QUESTION.

Two strong, fair-haired, blue-eyed boys ap-
proached their father as he sat by his pleasant
library window reading.
"Father," said the older boy, a youth of about
fifteen years of age, we have something very
serious, Hugh and I, that we wish to submit to
you."
"And what is it, Neil ?" inquired Mr. Burton,
lifting his kind eyes from his book, and looking
first at Neil and then at Hugh, as they stood
flushed and excited before him.
We wish you would let us go to a new sort of
school," said Neil.
"And what sort of school is it?" Mr. Burton
demanded, in his usual cheery tone.

Oh, it's a shooting school," cried Hugh, who
was a quick, impulsive boy; "it's going to be
immense, so Tom Dale says, and Ed Jones is
going, and--"
Hold on, Hugh," said Neil, gently interrupt-
ing him; "let me explain the whole thing to
father, so that he can understand. You see,
there 's a man who has a shooting-gallery-- "
A decided frown from Mr. Burton cut Neil's
enthusiastic description short off. For more than
a year the boys had been begging for a gun, and
the kind father had exhausted his ingenuity in the
effort to invent a sufficient number of excuses for
not promptly meeting their desires. In fact, Mr.
Burton did not like guns himself, and was very
much opposed to allowing boys to handle fire-
arms. As is the case in most villages, there had
been in Belair, where our story begins, two or
three distressing accidents through the careless-

*Copyright, 1883, by Maurice Thompson.

~

[MAY,

MARVIN AND HIS BOV HUNTERS.

ness of boys with guns, and it made a chill creep
up the father's back to think of trusting one of
his dear boys to the chances of such dangers.
Of course, Neil and Hugh did not stop to
reason about the matter. Other boys had guns.
Only the day before, George Roberts, a young
playmate of theirs, had brought in half a dozen
meadow-larks, killed with his single-barreled shot-
gun at his father's country-place. They had
listened to George's enthusiastic description of
his day's sport, until that night they dreamed it
all over again.
It hardly seems fair that we can't have such
fun," Hugh had said to Neil, after George had
gone.
Of course, father is right," said Neil, who
was a proud, honorable boy; "but I don't see
why guns can't be made safe for boys."
"They are safe," insisted Hugh. "I know
perfectly well that I 'd never hurt myself or any
one else with a gun if I had one. What's the use
of being careless ? I don't see any excuse for all
these accidents."
That 's what I say, too," said Neil. "If you
keep the muzzle of the gun pointed away from
yourself, how is it going to shoot you, I 'd like to
know ? "
But a man had fitted up a shooting school" in
the village, and the boys were all anxious to go.
For five cents, a boy could shoot three times at
a target; and the big-lettered bills posted here and
there announced that extreme care would be taken
to prevent accident. Surely," thought Neil and
Hugh, Father will not object to our trying our
hands once or twice in a safe shooting school."
But Mr. Burton did object very promptly, and
in a tone so decided that the boys turned dolefully
away. He called them back, however, and ex-
plained to them that a shooting gallery was a
place where all sorts of rough fellows congregated,
some of whom would bet and swear; that it was
no place for good boys.
"I did n't know that," said Neil; "I thought
it would be all right, and-and, I-I wanted to
learn to shoot, like other boys."
Mr. Burton looked steadily at the boys. He
was a very kind man, and loved his children
dearly. It was because he loved them that he had
so long refused to allow them to have a gun. He
had always believed that a dog and a gui could
ruin any boy, especially if the boy had his own
way. No doubt, in a measure, he was right.
Boys need the directing care of grown-up men in
almost everything, particularly where danger is in-
volved and some fearful accident may result from
the slightest mismanagement.
"Boys, will nothing satisfy you but guns?"

Mr. Burton said this in a hopeless sort of tone that
brought a quick flush to Neil's cheek.
"I don't believe I can ever be satisfied without
a gun," eagerly exclaimed Hugh.
"Well, I can," said Neil, proudly. "If it is
n't right for me to have a gun, I'll try and not
want one."
"But it is right," insisted Hugh, going nearer
Mr. Burton. "All the boys that amount to any-
thing have guns. Philo Lucas has a double-bar-
reled one."
Neil was amazed at Hugh's energetic way of
pushing the matter; he looked at Mr. Burton to
see how it impressed him.
I heard a man say not long ago," remarked
the father, "that he thought he should have to
prosecute Philo Lucas."
"Oh What for?" both boys inquired in a
breath.
"For killing robins and meadow-larks, which
is against the law."
"Meadow-larks Is it unlawful to shoot mead-
ow-larks?" cried Hugh.
"Yes; and all other insect-eating birds not in
the list of game-birds," replied Mr. Burton.
The boys looked at each other as it flashed into
their minds that George Roberts was a law-breaker
and liable to be fined or imprisoned for killing
those meadow-larks.
"But we wont shoot any ot those little birds,"
Hugh hurried to say; "we '11 shoot quails and
ducks and snipe and--"
"What will we shoot them with?" said Neil,
smiling rather grimly.
Oh, but Papa will buy us some guns! Wont
you, Papa? cried the enthusiastic Hugh.
Mr. Burton rose and put his book on a table. His
face wore a troubled expression. It was plain to
him that a crisis in his boys' lives had been reached,
and that they must be helped safely over it.
One thing was sure, he could not consent to
allow Neil and Hugh to be running over the coun-
try with guns in their hands, with no safe person
to direct and restrain them.
He walked back and forth for a while, the boys
eying him half hopefully, half despairingly. Pres-
ently he said:
Neil, will you and Hugh promise me that, if I
consider this question of guns carefully and con-
scientiously with a view to your best interests, you
will cheerfully abide by my decision ? "
Oh, yes, yes cried Hugh in a second; and
I want mine a double-barrel, with engraved locks,
and a pistol-grip to the stock! "
Mr. Burton smiled in spite of the gravity of the
situation. Neil laughed, too, at Hugh's sanguine
forwardness.

1884.]

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.

"I shall want ten days of time to study this
subject," said Mr. Burton; "and at the end of that
time, I shall decide guns or no guns, and the mat-
ter is then to be at final rest."
Yes, sir," said Neil; I shall be satisfied with
your decision, for I know that you know best."
Oh, papa, but you must n't decide against us.
I do want a gun so much, and I '11 be so careful!"
cried Hugh, almost trembling.
Mr. Burton dismissed his sons, promising to
study the subject of guns for boys very carefully,
and to let them know his conclusion at the end of
ten days. He was a conscientious, prudent man,
full of keen sympathies with the tastes of healthy
boys, and he greatly desired to give the fullest
scope consistent with safety to the development of
strong, manly natures in Neil and Hugh. He had
never been able to join in any field-sports himself,
owing to a lame knee, and consequently he knew
very little about guns or their use. He had often
imagined, however, what excitement there must
be in following the bevies of game-birds from field
to field in the crisp autumn weather, or in flushing
the swift-winged woodcock from marshy thickets
in July. He had the sportsman's instincts, but
his unfortunate lameness had shut off from him
any active participation in the sportsman's pleas-
ures. This, no doubt, served to strengthen his
desire to see his boys have all the freedom that the
accident of his life had denied to him.
So Mr. Burton began a systematic examination
of the subject of allowing boys to learn the use of
fire-arms. He consulted with sportsmen on one
hand, and with men who opposed field-sports on
the other hand. He carefully weighed all the
arguments of both sides. He tried to make of
himself an impartial judge; but it was no easy
matter. His solicitude for the welfare of his sons,
the well-known danger of fire-arms, the tendency
of too much indulgence in field-sports toward idle-
ness and an unambitious life, and the earnest
protest of some of his most trusted friends against
allowing boys to have guns, would overbear his
desire to please Neil and Hugh.
When the ten days had passed, the decision had
been reached, however, and what it was will be
told in the next chapter.

CHAPTER II.

UNCLE CHARLEY FROM TENNESSEE.

WHILE Mr. Burton was in the depth of his di-
lemma about guns, his brother Charles, whom
Neil and Hugh had always called Uncle Charley,
came, on a visit, from his plantation home in Ten-
nessee. It was the day before the end of the time

for Mr. Burton's decision when Uncle Charley
arrived, bringing his gun with him. Almost the
first thing he said was:
How far is it to the nearest prairie? Are the
prairie-chickens as plentiful as usual this season ?"
He was an inveterate sportsman. Neil and
Hugh were delighted. They felt sure that Uncle
Charley would use his influence with their father
in favor of letting them learn to shoot.
He was a tall, dark man with a long mustache
and curly black hair, very kind and gentle in his
manner, and exceedingly fond of boys, though
he was a bachelor. Of course, he had a great
deal to talk about with Mr. Burton before he
could find time to say much to Neil and Hugh,
who were longing to draw him out upon the sub-
ject nearest their hearts. But Hugh, who was
always inclined to be irrepressible, would manage
now and then to slip in a word or two about guns
and hunting. Neil, who was older and steadier,
wisely held his tongue.
It was a moment of breathless interest when Mr.
Burton, without any preliminaries whatever, sud-
denly said to his brother in the hearing of the
boys:
"Charles, I have a gun question that I must
settle for Neil and Hugh, and I want your advice."
"Well," said Uncle Charley, blandly, what is
the nature of the question ? "
Are the boys large enough to be trusted with
shot-guns? Ought they to be allowed to have
them? "
Mr. Burton put these questions with intense
gravity of voice and manner. Uncle Charley
looked at Neil and Hugh, and smilingly shook his
head.
"Rather small, rather small," he promptly
replied.
Neil turned pale, and the tears actually jumped
into Hugh's eyes.
That is just my opinion," said Mr. Burton; I
have been considering the matter for some days.
The boys have been asking me to buy them guns.
They promised to stand manfully by my decision,
and I am glad that you, who know so much about
guns and shooting, have helped to confirm me in
my first impression."
"The boys are rather small," said Uncle
Charley, reflectively; "but I don't know,- they
look like careful, sensible lads. How old are you,
Neil? "
I am past fifteen, sir," the boy replied, with a
touch of pride in his tone.
And I 'm thirteen, going on fourteen," cried
Hugh.
A tender, sympathetic light had come into Uncle
Charley's face. He fully appreciated the hopes

[MAY,

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.

and fears of his young kinsmen. He had the
feelings of a big grown-up boy himself.
"Suppose we sleep over this question," he said
to Mr. Burton, "and possibly we may see through
it more clearly in the morning."
By this time, Hugh's heart was jumping and
thumping so, that he was sure Uncle Charley
would hear it. As for Neil, he gave Uncle
Charley a grateful look, which was perfectly
understood.
That night, the boys lay in their bed and
talked over the probabilities.
Oh, I 'm sure we '11 get our guns now," said
Hugh. Uncle Charley is on our side; I saw
that; and he '11 have influence with papa."
If father has n't already made up his mind,
you are right," assented Neil; "but if he has
determined against us, Uncle Charley never can
change him."
It would be too bad if all our hopes and plans
should fall through now, would n't it ? said Hugh.
Yes, but we'd really be no worse off. We've
always had a good time, you know," philosophized
Neil.
Greatly to the disappointment of the boys,
neither Mr. Burton nor Uncle Charley mentioned
guns or shooting next morning. Quite early, the
gentlemen drove away from the house, and did
not return until late in the afternoon. Then some
friends came to dine, and the boys had to go to
bed again without any further information.
They have gone and forgotten all about it,"
grumbled Hugh. "It 's just like men; they
don't think a boy worth noticing."
It does look as if we are in for a little disap-
pointment," said Neil; "but there's no way of
helping it that I see. We '11 just have to wait and
be contented with what we have."
But I can't be contented, and it 's no use
trying," cried Hugh. It does seem too bad for
anything."
"I guess father had made up his mind sound
and solid before Uncle Charley came," said Neil,
"and so the matter will be dropped right where
it is."
Why, I thought I could almost feel a gun in
my hands when Uncle Charley said, 'Suppose we
sleep over this question,' to papa. I was perfectly
sure it was all right then; were n't you, Neil ?"
rejoined Hugh. /
So two or three days passed by, until at last,
one morning, Uncle Charley had everything ready
to go to the prairie to hunt prairie-chickens.
Then, all of a sudden, he said to Neil, as if the
thought had just occurred to him:
How would you and Hugh like to go along
with me ? "

Hugh jumped as if something had stung him,
and Neil was quite as much surprised.
I should like it ever so much," the latter
replied.
"But we have n't any guns," exclaimed
Hugh.
"Oh, well, you can watch me shoot, and you
can carry game for me, and help drive the wagon,"
said Uncle Charley, cheerfully. There 'll be
lots of fun besides shooting."
Of course, the boys did not need a second invi-
tation. Half a loaf was much better than no bread
at all. If they could n't have guns of their own,
they need not refuse to go and watch Uncle Charley
shoot. Then, too, the drive out to the prairie and

a week spent in the open air would be jolly sport.
Just how much fun two healthy, good-natured
boys can get out of such an excursion can not
be exactly measured. There is the sunshine,
and there is the blue sky, the grass like a green
sea, the vast fields of corn, the cool wind, the
freedom-it needs a boy to fully appreciate such
things.
Neil and Hugh forgot their disappointment in
the matter of the guns, and jumped right into the
spirit of the trip to the prairie.
Two wagons had been made ready; one, for the
dogs and camp utensils, which was to be driven
by a man who was also to serve as cook; and one
with springs, for Uncle Charley and the boys.

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.

When they started out of the village, many of their
young friends looked wistfully after them, as if
they, too, would like to be in the party.
Neil and Hugh waved their hats and shouted
good-bye as the wagons clattered over the graveled
street past the village store and post-office. They
were soon out in the open country, in a wide lane
between green hedges, with fields on either hand,
and firm-houses showing here and there among
the orchards.
It was mid-August and the sun shone fiercely;
but a breeze came off the prairie, cool and sweet,
smelling of-stubble and wild grass.
The horses that drew the wagons were strong,
well-fed animals, anxious to go; and Uncle Char-
ley let them trot along briskly, for he, too, was
chafing with every moment's delay. He had vis-
ions of large coveys of prairie-chickens in his mind,
and, with all a Southern sportsman's enthusiasm,
was longing to loose his dogs and handle his trusty
gun.
Uncle Charley's gun was a breech-loader of the
finest English make, with beautiful Damascus steel
barrels, engraved lock-plates, walnut stock and re-
bounding locks. Hugh took it in his hands, and
was surprised to find how light it was.
"Why, this gun would just suit me," he ex-
claimed, in surprise. I could handle it without
any trouble, I'm sure. How much did it cost
you, Uncle Charley ?"
"Four hundred dollars," was the answer.
Whew whistled Hugh, looking rather wildly
at Neil. "No wonder papa don't care about buy-
ing us guns It would take eight hundred dollars
to get us one apiece "
Uncle Charley smiled, all to himself, in a sort of
mysterious way, as if he were thinking of some-
thing he did not desire to talk about.
Meantime, the wagons clattered along the
smooth road, the horses' feet raising a cloud of
dust, which shone almost like gold in the early
morning sunlight. The big wagon that held the
dogs and camp things was behind, and this cloud
of dust sometimes nearly hid it from view, the
man and the dogs looking, through the film, like
those dim figures some artists put into the back-
grounds of their sketches.
As they passed along between the farms-those
broad, liberal, fertile farms of the West-they
saw steam threshing-machines puffing away out in
the fields, in the midst of stacks of wheat and rye,
where men and boys were working hard in the fly-
ing chaff and tumbling straw. The corn was in
silk and tassel, and the meadows of timothy had
been mowed, the hay-cocks standing thick on the
greening stubble. They saw meadow-larks flying
about in the bright sunshine or standing in the

tufts of clover, their breasts gleaming like polished
brass.
"Why is it against the law to shoot larks
and robins?" said Hugh; I don't see why it 's
any worse to kill them than it is to kill quails."
"Why is it worse to kill a horse than it is to kill
a pig?" inquired Uncle Charley.
Because a pig's good to eat and a horse is n't,"
.quickly answered Hugh.
"Is n't there a better reason?" said Uncle
Charley; "is n't a horse more useful to us as a
servant than he would be for food, even if his flesh
were delicious ?"
"Certainly," said Hugh.
Well, a meadow-lark is a very useful bird to
the farmer. It eats great numbers of insects, eggs,
and larvae that would work great harm to wheat,
corn, and orchards; then, its flesh is not very good;
while a quail eats grain, and its flesh is excellent
food. Do you see the difference ?"
That does seem reasonable," said Hugh; I
had n't thought of it in that way. A meadow-lark
is like a horse, it helps the farmer make his crop
by destroying bugs and things; and the quail is
like a pig, it eats corn and wheat and gets fat, to
be killed and eaten."
Uncle Charley laughed.
I see you apply a theory in a very practical
sort of way," he remarked. "But the law pro-
tects all kinds of harmless birds, the flesh of which
is not profitable for food," he continued, out of
fear of the influence that the mere wanton slaughter
of birds would have upon the morals of the people.
If a boy is allowed to be cruel as he grows up, he
is likely to develop into a dangerous man. I think
there is a great difference between a moderate
indulgence in field-sports, and the abandonment of
one's self to the brutal and indiscriminate slaughter
of birds and animals."
They had now reached the edge of the open
prairie. As far as they could see, the land rolled
away in dull, green billows. The grass was short
on the swells and tall in the sloughs. Herds of
cattle were scattered from near at hand to where
they barely speckled the horizon.
Uncle Charley gave Neil the lines.
"You drive slowly along," he said, "'while I
work the dogs over some of this ground."
Getting out of the wagon, gun in hand and
cartridge-belt around his waist, he motioned to
the-man to loose the dogs,- two beautiful white and
brown setters that knew just what he wanted them
to do.
Neil drove slowly along over the grass, for they
had left the road, he and Hugh watching Uncle
Charley, who was walking briskly after the gallop-
ing dogs.

[MAY,

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.

Look at Don and Belt! cried Hugh. Did
you ever see more beautiful dogs "
Don was the larger dog, being tall and strong-
limbed, while Belt was slender, nervous, and
active. They ran in parallel lines some thirty
yards apart, their heads well up and their silky,
fringed tails waving like banners.
Is n't it jolly exclaimed Neil, as his excite-
ment overmastered him. "I never saw anything so
fine "
"If we only had guns," said Hugh, leaning over
the side of the wagon, "how perfectly happy we
would be "
Look at Don! called the man from the camp-
wagon.
The big dog had stopped suddenly with his head
turned aside and his tail as stiff as a stick.

I .. h. i -.[,- b .. . . I .., .H ,r- -.. - _- -

F '' I i. ,.l '11.1 I I, _;, : .2
I ., T _: - __-

spot where the rest of the flock had settled down
in the grass, and so, motioning the dogs forward,
he tramped away, reloading his gun as he went.
Hugh climbed into the wagon again and Neil
drove on.
What is the naturalist's name for prairie-chick-
en, Neil ?" said Hugh, holding up one of the
birds by its wing.
"Pinnated grouse, or Tetrao cupido, is what
scientific men call the bird," replied Neil, who was
rather proud of his ornithological knowledge.
Soon Belt came to a stanch stand and Don
"backed" him,--as the man in the wagon said,
-that is, Don pointed because he saw Belt point.
Neil stopped the wagon to watch Uncle Charley
"flush," or scare up the birds.

saw two of the birds tumble down. Hugh yelled
like a young Indian, and jumping out of the wagon,
ran to where Uncle Charley stood. Don retrieved
one bird and Belt the other.
Neil wished to go and examine the game;/but
the horses were restless, and he could not leave
them. Hugh brought the birds to the wagon,
however, so Neil could see what fine, bright-
feathered young prairie-cocks they were.
Uncle Charley had marked with his eye the

killed that bird myself! "
Uncle Charley reloaded his gun, and walked
on. Another and another bird buzzed up. Bang!
bang! -one hit and one miss. The sport now grew
intensely exciting. The grouse were jubt enough
scattered to give the gunner a chance to flush
them one at a time. When he came back to the
wagon, he had eight birds, which, with the two
already there, made ten in all.
The dogs had their tongues out, and were pant-
ing vigorously.

(To be continued.)

567

'," ". .
I

568 A MEETING ON THE RAIL. [M

. .-..

He was walking on the railroad, and the track he closely na: i. -l,
With a red flag, neatly folded, and a lantern in his hand;
And, lj.-f.-ni:,; to pass him as I journeyed on my way,
We paused a moment to exchange the greetings of the day.

"My friend, will you inform me," in an anxious tone he said,
If you have seen a broken rail or misplaced switch ahead ?"
And, when I told him I had not, with wonder in my eye,
He showed his disappointment by a plaintive little sigh.

I 'm a hero by profession," he proceeded to explain,
"And it 's -always been the hobby of my life to save a train;
But, though I' ve gone on foot across the continent and back,
I never yet have found a thing the matter with the track!

T884.] A MEETING ON THE RAIL. 569

"I 've a red flag for the day-time and a lantern for the night,
To wave the very moment that the engine comes in sight;
But, in spite of my endeavors, it's a melancholy fact
That I have n't had a chance yet to perform a noble act!"

And, bidding me good-bye, he slowly sauntered up the ties,
While downward at the shining rails he bent his eager eyes;
And now, whene'er in newspapers a hero's name I see,
I think a;, L.ui my little friend and wonder if it's he!

MAIDEN-HAIR.

By Bessie Chandler.

" What a beautiful plant!" said little Nod,
As he touched it with loving care;
" I never have seen it,-please tell me its name."
And we answered him: "Maiden-hair."
/
Ned laughed, as he looked at the pretty fern,
The name was so funny and new;
Then said, as he noticed the shiny stems:
Why, here are the hair-pins, too!"

VOL. XI.-37.

WORK AND PLAY FOR YOUNG FOLK, NO. 12.

LEATHER-WORK FOR YOUNG FOLK.

BY CHARLES G. LELAND.

MR. WILLIAM WELLS, in his work on the
" Games and Songs of American Children," has
observed that there are some sports which have
their times and seasons, or which come and go.
The same may be said of certain smaller arts. One
of these is hammering cold brass, which has come
into favor again after being forgotten; and another

two and a half or three dollars, some of this being
very beautiful. Those who want pieces, or less
than a whole skin, can generally buy them of
book-binders, or book-binders' furnishers. They
should pick out the thickest.
Hard leather should be soaked a long time.
Well-tanned English leather may be kept in water

Il _ _

is leather-work. It is true that there have always
been ladies who, in a small way, made bunches
of grapes and flowers, and even covered boxes
with wet leather, producing results the highest aim
of which was to look almost like wood-carving.
But leather-work, properly understood, is a
beautiful art in itself, and makes no effort to
imitate anything. And it embraces so much and
is so varied, that one might almost as well attempt
to tell in a few pages all that can be made with
wood and how to make it, as with the skins of
animals. But I can, in this space at least, describe
what is done by children in the Public Industrial
Art School of Philadelphia.
Leather has the property of becoming very soft
when soaked in water, and growing hard when
dried. It will become even harder if alum or salt
be added to the water; but this is not necessary
for ordinary work. Now, let us suppose that we
have an old chair, and would like to cover the
seat and back. Or it may be a table, or panels
for a door or a cabinet, or the sides of a portfolio
or album. Any flat surface whatever may be
decorated with this flexible and plastic material.
First, of course, get your leather, as Mrs. Glasse is
said to have said, but did not say, of the hare in her
own edition of her cookery. It may be had for
from twenty-five cents up to eighty cents for a skin ;
but the kind for ordinary, average work generally
sells in the cities at retail for from fifty to sixty
cents. That which is colored costs .from one to

for hours; the ordinary American sheep-skin, such
as beginners use, may be wet with a sponge while
working, and, in fact, need not be put into the
tub at all. Salt and alum are usually dispensed
with in simple sheet stamping. When used it
should be so as to make a strong solution, say a
tea-spoonful of powder to a pint of water.
Pupils must not expect--as almost all do-
to make a perfect work of art at a first attempt.
There must be some experimenting. The soak-
ing, for instance, must depend on the thickness of
the leather.
Do not choose bright-colored and thin leather.
It will not take a deep impression, and it will get
soiled easily.
For tools, you will want certain small wheels
set in handles. Two of these can be had at every
shoe-makers' furnisher's. One is the dot-wheel,
which is like a very thin dime with a milled edge;
another is like a thick dime; and a third is the
pattern, or prick, wheel, like the spur-rowel. These
cost twenty-five cents each. They generally have,
on either side of the wheel, a square "shoulder,"
which should be filed down to keep it from bearing
into the leather. It is advisable to have one very
small wheel made, one-third or one-fourth of an
inch in diameter, and set in a handle. This is
useful for small curves. What are called flower-
wheels, or those with ornaments on them, used by
shoe-makers, are also cheap and useful. In time,
the pupil will use the large and expensive tooling.

IMAY,

WORK AND PLAY FOR YOUNG FOLK.

wheels and other implements of the book-binder.
But what I am now describing is the cheap and
easy process once followed in Europe of old, in the
days when there was more art and less machinery,
finish, and expense than at present.

TRACER.

It may happen, however, that the wheeled tools
for marking out can not be readily obtained or
made. In this case, take a smooth-edged tracing-
tool, or tracer, such as is used for metal work. It
looks like a large thick nail without a head, but it
is made of steel, and the point has an edge exactly
like that of a screw-driver. With a little extra
pains, all that can be done with the wheel can be
effected quite as well with this, the object being
simply to mark smooth and deep lines into the wet
leather. It is easy to do this with a wheel
which rolls over the leather and, at the
same time, presses down; it is almost as
easy to run the polished edge of a metal
tracer along it, but edges of many tools
of other substances will catch in the fiber
and pull it. While the wheel is a little
easier for a beginner to work with and to
run perfectly even lines, the tracer can be
used to turn corners and make curves
which no wheel can describe.
It is, therefore, advisable that every leath-
er-worker should not only have a tracer, but prac-
tice with it on waste leather until he or she can, at
will, mark out a pattern as easily as with a pen or
pencil. This tool should cost from twenty to thirty
cents.
The next tools needed are the stamps, corre-
sponding exactly to the mats used to indent, or
roughen and depress, the background in refoussi
or sheet-metal work. These, however, are rougher
or deeper, so that when pressed on wet leather

what with a penknife. A very important tool is a
flexible ivory or horn paper-knife; or, better still,
and indeed far better, a peculiar paper-knife made
of india rubber, round at one end and pointed at
the other, which may be found in a few shops for
ten cents. The use of the flat blade
is to smooth out mistakes in the wet
leather. With the edge of a very
smooth knife, a pattern maybe marked
out almost as well as with a wheel. It
is possible, therefore, for a really ingenious and
skillful worker to make a piece of leather-work with
only a paper-knife and a stick notched across the
ends; and there is in our school a really well-exe-
cuted panel made with nothing else.
Having these, you may begin work. Draw your
pattern on any kind of paper. Take the leather
and soak it, then cut it to the size required and
stretch it on a board. A bread-board, costing
from thirty to fifty cents, made in three pieces of

STAMPS OR MATS FOR INDENTING THE GROUND.
greenish-yellow-colored poplar, is the least liable of
all to warp. If you use any other board, it must
have pieces nailed to the back. Poplar resists
water. Tack the leather on the edges, but do not
stretch it too tightly. If it were tight like a drum, it
would draw the pattern out. Lay the paper on the
wet leather, after wiping the latter dry with a
towel, and then go over it with the prick-wheel,
just hard enough to prick through the paper,
but not through the leather. Remove the paper

INDIA RUBBER PAPER-KNIFE, USEFUL AS A SMOOTHER.

they make a mark, or surface, like that of morocco.
An ingenious person can cut a stamp out of any
piece of hard wood. A very good one is some-
times made, as for modeling in clay, by breaking
a pine stick in two and leveling the points some-

and the design will be found dotted in the skin.
Now take the wheel with a smooth edge like a
dime, or the tracer, and tool all the pattern. This
is exactly like outlining in refousse. Then, with a
stamp and hammer, indent all the ground. You

WORK AND PLAY FOR YOUNG FOLK.

may finish by going over the outline with a dot-
wheel, or else with the smooth-wheel, or tracer,
bearing on very strongly.
When it is dry you may, with good black ink, or
any dye which accords with the leather, paint the
pattern all over. If it is to
be merely blackened, the
simplest method is to go
over the whole with eb-
onizing varnish, which
is, when dry, perfectly
flexible, and does not
crack or peel off. It
can be used by itself
on the leather; and
in that case, the
color will be of a
very deep rich /
brown. Leath-
er, to be used
for fortidres,
hangings,
and door-
panels,may DESIGN FOR A LE
be treated
in this way with all dyes, or painted, as was once
very common. I have an old German book, the
cover of which has been thus colored and varnished.
When finished, the outline may be gilt in the

go over it all again. The result will be that the
gold will all be in lines of dots.
Another way to stamp the leather is to take a
panel of wood, and with gouges carve on it a sunken,
or incised, pattern. This is easier to do, with a few
hours' practice, than one
would suppose. Then,
S with a dry sponge and
the fingers, carefully
.press the wet leather
down into the mold.
When dry, it'may be
"served up plain"
or colored and gild-
ed. With a single
mold you may
print off as many
impressions as
you may need.
Tack them
on seasoned
panels. They
maybeused
.THER CHAIR-SEAT. for decorat-
ing walls,
doors, furniture, or, indeed, any plain surface.
Another way to make these sheets is to have
two molds cast in plaster of Paris, one in intaglio, or
sunken, the other in relief, exactly fitting it. They

.'-~ i-^ ^_____

PATTERN FOR A FIRST EASY LESSON IN LEATHER-WORK.

ordinary way with leaf or, if this be beyond the
artist's power, by taking any good gold ink and,
with a very finely pointed small brush, painting
in all the outlines. Then take the dot-wheel and

must be perfectly dried, and then oiled and dried
by gentle heat more than once. The wet leather
is laid between them. In most cases the upper
mold, in relief, may be dispensed with.

ja

572

[MAY,

A

WORK AND PLAY FOR YOUNG FOLK.

The thicker the leather is, the deeper the relief
may be. In this, as in all the minor arts, it is, of
course, advisable to finish off" as neatly as pos-
sible; but it is far more important to have good
designs and show the free and confident touch
of an artist. The very'great majority of people
prefer more finish, as in machine-made work,
to autographic or, as I may say, autochiric touch,
which is that which shows the hand of the worker.
In the great ages of art, when it was shown in
everything, elegant design and autochirism, or the

k .

PATTERN FOR THE LII
evidence of the hand itself, were most prized. To
work well, it is not necessary to have many and
expensive tools and costly material; but to do the
best you can with what you have.
There is another kind of sheet-leather work
called mosaic, or apilique. This consists in cut-
ting out patterns of thin, colored leather, and
pasting or gumming them on the ground. Then,
'the ground and pattern at the edge being slightly
wet, the edge is to be tooled down into the leather
with the wheel, which has an edge like a dime. If
this is done with great care, it will be impossible

to detect any joining, particularly if the edge be
gilt. As regards wetting down, I may observe
that, if possible, the whole pattern should be
worked off at one sitting, or while the leather is
wet. But if this can not be done, then keep a
clean sponge and a small basin of clean water
by you, and dampen the leather as you work.
Every book-binder has waste pieces of colored
leather which may be used for mosaic. The
smallest bits may be used for leaves, ornaments,
or portions of work, since, when pasted on, the

AND SIDE OF A BOX.

seams hardly show, and in large work, as for door-
panels, this is of no consequence. If you intend
to produce duplicate work, it will be often worth
while to have some ornamental patterns cut out
of tin or sheet-brass. You can then, with scissors
or penknife, cut them out by the stencil. It is
not difficult to learn to design patterns. I have
known many young ladies to insist that they could
never learn to do so, who, in a few weeks, suc-
ceeded in producing very elegant and original
ornaments. Any child of ten or twelve years can
soon be taught to combine certain ornaments, so

D

WORK AND PLAY FOR YOUNG FOLK.

as to make borders or frames, and then to con-
struct these ornaments on curves. I knew one
who, after insisting that.she could never learn to
design, was induced to try. Between the first of
November and the end of May, she not only learned
to design and draw, but also to carve oak panels and
work in leather. The first thing she designed and
executed in leather was a beautiful box in mosaic.

To make such a box, get it first in pine, cherry,
or poplar, and then cover it neatly with paper,
pasted all over. Then work the leather as I have
explained, and paste it on with book-binder's
paste. This is made by boiling flour and water,
adding a table-spoonful of powdered alum to a cup-
ful of paste, and stirring it constantly while boil-
ing. It will be better to use it about twenty-four
hours after boiling. Stir it once or twice every
day. A little thin liquid-glue well mixed in will
give it greater strength.
To work leather in relief, or to make vases, fig-
ures, and similar ornaments, is much more diffi-
cult than on the flat sheet. Those who have,
however, learned the former will find little difficulty

with the latter. For descriptions of these more
advanced processes, I refer the reader to.a little
Manual of Leather-work, written by me and pub-
lished by the Art Interchange Company, 140 Nas-
sau street, New York; price 35 cents, by mail. It
should be borne in mind'that any kind of pattern
for any work may be adapted to leather. It has a
great deal in common with refoussi and panel
wood-carving. In both, the object is to bring out
a pattern on a plane surface in relief, and to indent
the background. In conclusion, let me say that,
of all the minor arts, leather-work is perhaps the
easiest, and requires in proportion to its results the
least outlay. With a tracer, a stamp, a hammer
and a piece of leather, all costing together not
more than a dollar, one can make the cover for a
chair seat or back, which ought to be worth at least
twice as much. No one should, however, begin by
attempting to make a finished and elegant piece
of work at the first effort, as I am sorry to say too
many amateurs do. There should be in leather,
as in brass-work, much preliminary practice in
running lines, until a perfect command of the
tracer or, in leather, the wheel is attained.

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.
/

THE LITTLE BOY WE CALL "H'Y."

WE call him "H'y" for short. He is a year and a half old. He can
run all around the house. We think he is a won-der-ful boy. He says
very fun-ny things, and some very big words. "H'y's" mamma showed
him the inside of the tall clock, and told him about the pen-du-lum.
One day his papa showed him the inside of his watch, and when he
saw the little wheel go back and forth he cried out: "Oh, papa! papa!
pen-du-lum !F"
Then, too, he saw Teddie riding on his bi-cy-cle, one morning. A
few days later, H'y" was playing with his blocks. He knew O and T,
and he called H "baby's letter," because his name begins with H; but
he had not learned Q. His mamma sat in an arm-chair near him, and
she saw him looking for a long time at the block that had Q on it.
At last she said: "What is it, 'H'y?'"
"H'y" looked up and laughed, and said:-"Bi-cy-cle!"

[MAY,

1884.] FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK. 575

E ', 1 ..

,'*1--

I,
I :

~-~, ri

I~

i ~

.., I

*
"i-i.

.!O .: -, I-

5.76

5th
MONTH.

SBY ROYAL AND BARR HILL.

WHEN you search the starry skies,
The Twins you will not find;
For they're racing with the Sun,
Or hanging on behind.

Moon's Moon's
Age. Place.

6 Cancer
7 Leo
8 Sextant
9 Leo
10 Virgo
11
12
13 Libra
FULL "
15 Scorpio
16 Ophiuch
17
18 Sagitt.
19
20 Capri.
21 Aqua.
22
23
24 Pisces
25
26 "
27
28
NEW
1
2
3 Gemini
4
5 Cancer
6 Sextant
7 Leo

Sun on
Noon Holidays and Incidents.
Mark.
H. M.
11.57 May Day.
11.57 i near Mars.
11.57 Thomas Hood, died 1845.
11.57 3d Sunday after Easter.
11.56 Nap. Bonaparte, d. 182x.
11.56
11.56 6 near Spica.
11.56
11.56
11.56
11.56 4th Sunday after Easter.
11.56
11.56 Maria Theresa, b. 1717.
11.56
11.56 6 very close to bright star.
11.66
11.56 Edward Jenner, b. 1749.
11.56 Rogation Sunday.
11.56 Nat. Hawthorne, d. 1864.
11.56 Columbus, d. x506.
11.56
11.56 Ascension Day.
11.57
11.57 Queen Victoria, b. 1x89.
11.57 Sunday after Ascension.
11.57
11.57 ( near Venus.
11.57 [ nearJupiter. [eraldays.
11.57 Venus near Twins for sev-
11.57 Decoration Day. q near
11.58 [Mars.

SPORT FOR T

IT 's the very ti
For the merry
Toss it, bat it, 1
All you boys,

EVENING SKIES FOR Y

(See Introduction, page 255,
MAY 15th, 8.30 P.M.
VENUS is now a lovely objet
June she will be at her bright
nation of The Bull, and is now i
not far from Castor and Pollux
near the Sun that he is not n
has gone down. MARS is near
but has lost the brightness that
February. You will know hin
now occupies the very spot he c
tor and Pollux. Regulus, the
two hours to the west of our so
one hour to the east of it, and wi
ten o'clock. Exactly in the so
see a group of four quite cons
sided figure. These are in th
The Crow. Arcturus is now ve
We can now take another stet
Sun among the stars. Remen
August he is exactly where w
trace his path to the 15th of C
near, but a little higher than, S
Remember, also, how high up
summer course between Tauru
how much lower in the sky Spi
to his winter quarters still lower

"JACK FROST" AND THE CHERRY-

I 'M Queen of the May said a proud Cherry-tree, who was arrayed in brid
comer, and have left all my sisters far behind me."
"You may be Queen," said "Jack Frost," as he gave her a sharp nip, but I am
"Well! said the Cherry-tree, as she. viewed with dismay the withered remain
is the first time I ever took Time by the forelock, and I wish I had given him
into such a scrape. I shall have to call all my blossoms in, and begin over ag
remember that 'Haste makes Waste.'"

HE MONTH.

me and season,
bounding ball;
kick it, pat it,
with whoop and call.

YOUNG ASTRONOMERS.

ST. NICHOLAS for January.)*

:t in the west; on the 4th of
est. She has left the constel-
n Gemini, or The Twins, and
. SATURN has set: he is so
oticeable even after the Sun
r Regulus in the south-west,
t made him so conspicuous in
Sby his red color. JUPITER
covered in January, near Cas-
star of Leo, is now more than
uth mark. Spica in Virgo is
11 be due south at a quarter to
uth, rather low down, we can
picuous stars, forming a four-
e constellation of Corvus, or
ry high up in the south-east.
p in tracing the course of the
mbering that on the 2oth of
e now see Regulus, we can
)ctober, when he will be very
pica, the star of The ..
we looked in Januar3 i I;
s and Gemini, and now notice
ca is. But we shall trace him

-TREE.

al white. "I 'm the first

still King."
ns of her bridal veil, this
a good pull for getting me
ain. Another time I will

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

61I STr. RIGHOiAS UILMANAG

MAY,

II

Day Day
of of
Month. Week.

1 Thur.
2 Fri.
3 Sat.
4 .
5 Mon.
6 Tues.
7 Wed.
8 Thur.
9 Fri.
10 Sat.
11 S
12 Mon.
13 Tues.
14 Wed.
15 Thur.
16 Fri.
17 Sat.
18
19 Mon.
20 Tues.
21 Wed.
22 Thur.
23 Fri.
24 Sat.
25 1
26 Mon.
27 Tues.
28 Wed.
29 Thur.
30 Fri.
31 Sat.

II

II

FoI BOYS AND GIRLS.

31
DAYs.

K iJ

S,1

I I

*' I, "; ', / '

GOOD-BYE, April cried May's pretty voice, as she came dancing in with a great bunch of flowers in her
hand, "I've such a lovely white wreath for the May Queen, and all sorts of bright, sweet things for you,
Mother Nature. Everything looks beautiful-the brooks are all in tune, and your garden is fairly beginning
to smile.
. "Yes, my pretty May," said Dame Nature, "I 'm right glad to see you back again to help me with it.
This is a busy time with me, you know; but I feel quite light-hearted the minute I catch the first waft of
fragrance that announces your coming, my pretty Blossom Queen. I wish you 'd give your attention to the
dandelions; for some reason, they are lazy this year. Stir them up a bit; they wont bite, you know. The
blossoms are all waiting for your smile, and there's plenty of dainty work for you to do, my dear."
Well," said May, I 'll do my best; but what with May Day at one end of my visit, and Decoration Day
at the other, I 've been hard worked of late years, and don't feel quite so gay as I once did. Is it possible
that I 'm getting old ? And, peeping into a brook to see, pretty May tossed her head at the lovely image
she saw there, until the flowers came showering down from her hair, and then she laughed softly to herself,-
a happy laugh in which one could hear the trill of the robin and the bluebird.

MAY SONG.
'I

BLOssoMs on the tree-tops,
Blossoms in the hedges,
Blossoms by the way-side,
Blossoms in the sedges;
BRlosoms of the cherr i

In
I
Wh
T
Wir

Blossoms of the peach, G
Blossoms of the apple, And
Falling each by each. N

he fragrant shower,
stand beneath the trees,
ile all about me bloweth
he balmy, soft May breeze.
ter is forgotten,
entle Spring is here,
the lovely Summer
ow is drawing near.

I I

- --~

JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT

J AC K- IN HE- PU L 'IT.

MAKE your best bows and curtseys to the Lady
May, my'beloved. Here she comes, tripping to
the song of birds, her green robes floating about
her as she sprinkles the woods with flowers, festoons
the fruit-trees with blossoms, and touches up the
early gardens here and there. Heaven bless her !
dear, sweet, happy Lady May-the darling of
the year!
Now let me ask you, one and all, this question :

HOW MANY FLOWERS IN A DAISY
DID ever you count the flowers in a common
field daisy? It would be a difficult task, but not
an impossible one. Last season, I loved to watch
a group of fine, white, yellow-centered daisies,
nodding near my pulpit; and I was surprised to
see how many flowers each of them carried. If
now or later in the season you have courage to
look a daisy in the face and ask it how many flowers
it has, you, too, may be astonished at the reply.
Now, who can read me this botanical riddle ?
These dear little beauties, known as marguer-
ites in some quarters, are not to be found in our
bleak Northern fields just yet; but I 'm told that
they are raised in many sunny homes, and also
that men grow them in hot-houses and sell them
for a few cents a bunch.

HER BRAWW NEW CLAES."
A GOOD friend of yours, L. A. W. Shackelford,
sends this pretty rhyme, which all my Scotch
hearers will enjoy at first hearing, though some o'
my wee American bairns may not ken the meaning'
o' its odd words. Ah, well! the dear Little School-
ma'am will help them, as she always is ready to do.
Find the mate to this little star,* my chicks (or,
perhaps I should say, my little eaglets, as I am
addressing Young Americans especially), and you

will come upon a something that may help you to
enjoy this bonnie song:

Oh! sing wi' me, little birdies flitt'n thro' the air !
An' ye jolly win's hummin' owre the glens an' the braes!
Jimp wi' me, kittlins, while I 'm jimpin' everywhere,
For the cranreuch has bro't me some braw new claes!

I ha'e a dainty bonnet, full o' ribbons an' a feather,-,
Some stripit-sheld stockins, an' siller-buckled shoon.
An' a soft bright plaidie, a' fixit up thegether
Wi' braid, an' wi' buttons roun', an' sheeny as the moon.

An' soon the bonnie snaw will be heapit owre the groun';
An' the world' will be a ringin' wi' the skates an' the sleighs;
An' I shall gae sklentin' an' scrievin' up an' down,
As happy as a robbin i' my braw new claes.

Wee, little,-bairns, children, ist stanza: Brawv, fine, hand-
some,- claes, clothes,- wi', with,-flifl'n, flitting,- thro', through,
-an', and,- win's, winds,--hummaw ', humming,-owre, over,-
braes, declivities, precipices, the slopes of hills,--jimf, jump,-kilt-
ilins, kittens,- cranreach, hoar frost, white frost,-bro't, brought.
ad stanza: ia'e, have,-o', of,--ribbans, ribbons,-striiit-sheld,
striped and speckled,-siller-buckled soon, silver-buckled shoes,-
plaidie, a plaid, a loose outer garment,--', all,-frit, fixed,-the-
getker, together,--rmn', round,-sleeny, shiny.
3d stanza: Bonnie snaw, pretty snow,-kteatil owu e the gvone-u',
heaped over the ground,--worl', world,-gae, go,-skleniin',
sklenting, running aslant,--scrieve, to glide swiftly along,-i', in.

THE ARTILLERY FERN.

MY birds bring me wonderful accounts of affairs
in plant life, but nothing that surprises me more
than the actions of the Artillery Fern, as described
by the dear Little School-ma'am, who, it appears,
has found an account of one of the plants in a
newspaper.. Have any of my chicks ever seen one
of these ferns fire itself off?
This is what the newspaper says of it:

-The artillery fern, or flower, as it is sometimes called, is a
curious and beautiful plant which is not very generally known out-
side of rare collections or of florist's greenhouses. It acquires its
singular name from the military and explosive fashion with which it
resists the action of water upon it. If a branch of the fern, covered
with its small red seed, be dipped in water and then held up to the
light, there soon will occur a strange phenomenon. First one bud
will explode with a sharp little crack, throwing into the air its pollen
in the shape of a small cloud of yellow dust. This will be followed
by another, and another, until very soon the entire fern-like branch
will be seen discharging these miniature volleys with their tiny
puffs of smoke. This occurs whenever the plant is watered, and the
effect of the entire fern in this condition of rebellion is very curious as
well as beautiful. As the buds thus open, they assume the shape
of a miniature Geneva cross too small to the naked eye to attract
much attention, but under a magnifying glass they are seen to
.possess a rare and delicate beauty.

HICKORY, DICKORY, DOCK !

HERE is a true story from a respected corre-
spondent, which quite surpasses Mother Goose's
fanciful account of the mouse that ran up the
clock and then ran down again:

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Some weeks ago, a certain piano
was very carelessly left open for a whole day and two nights, while
the responsible members of the family were out of the house. A
lady visitor, on the evening before she intended to depart, left upon
the open piano a ball of red worsted, and the stripe of an Afghan,
which she was making. When she returned, forty-eight hours
afterward, and entered the parlorwith several members of the family,
the sight that greeted them was astounding.
A large hole, and several smaller ones, hadbeen made in the piano
cover--the ball of worsted was half gone, and the Afghan stripe
was a complete wreck This was very mysterious. Could it have
been rats? A mouse could scarcely make off with so much," said
one and all.
A few days later a large rat was caught. Here, it was thought,

[MAY,

JAC K-IN-THE PULPIT.

was the solution of the mystery. But more was to follow. The
owner of the Afghan came again to the house, the family being again
away, and the piano closed, as indeed it was for some time later.
Thai very ntigh the mysterious thief came again l On the wall hung
a painted satin banner, with half dozen yellow silk balls hanging at
the bottom. These disappeared. The cords were gnawed through,
and the balls carried off. What could it all mean ? Days afterward
came the true solution of the mystery. An unpleasant odor began
to issue from the piano. Mice exclaimed everybody, and sig-
nificant looks were exchanged. As soon as possible, the key-board
of the piano was taken out, and a long piece of hooked wire thrust
into the corner from which the odor proceeded. Presently was
drawn out a little bunch of red worsted; then a little more; and
now a whole nest- a nest made of red worsted and soft yellow
silk (no child had stolen those balls, after all), and in it were five
tiny dead mice !
After a little more poking, out ran a fine large wood-mouse, with
her one surviving young one in her mouth. She was struck at, and
being forced to drop the little one, ran back. But finally she vent-
ured out again, and was caught.
And what do you suppose made her select those balls above every
other article in the room? To obtain them, she must have run right
up the wall, which, fortunately for her, was of rough plaster. But
this she certainly did; for, behind a large picture on the wall, over the
piano, was found the rest of the worsted and silk, where the nest
evidently had been first begun, and then abandoned.
Some people may consider this almost too strange a mouse-story
to be believed, but it is strictly true in every particular.
From one of your most faithful readers, H.

INSECTS TILTING.

OUR friend, Mr. C. F. Holder, sends us another
queer story, with a picture showing a pretty "see-
saw ":
DEAR JACK: In strolling through the woods I have often observed
insects and various animals engaged in games and sports that did
not differ greatly from some of those which children play. Once I saw
two ants who were having a mock battle; another time two bugs were
detected in a veritable game of tag, hiding behind twigs and leaves,
and then darting out and away. Prof. Lockwood once observed a
solemn toad at play; it was standing on its hind legs, holding in its
mouth a twig exactly as if it were trying to play the flute.
With this I send you a picture showing a game of see-saw, which,
though probably accidental, really occurred. A toad-stool that grew
in a damp spot beside the walk, formed the rest, and across it had
blown a spear of hay or grass, so that it almost balanced. While
the spear was thus balanced, a butterfly came sailing along, and see-
ing the inviting roost, alighted for a moment s rest. But a moment
later a comical green grasshopper, with two long waving whiskers,
was seen to light upon the other end of the see-saw, just bearing it
down, and, as he advanced up the spear, he was in turn raised into
the air by the butterfly. In this way, for a moment or so, a regular
tilt was had; but the butterfly, becoming alarmed at the approach
of its curious neighbor, soon flew away, and up went its end of the
see-saw, throwing the grasshopper sprawling into the air, and effect-
ually breaking up the game.

I. ~ I,

'' 'V

.1 -

579

~ ~'-~p~n

THE LETTER-BOX.

THE LETTER-BOX.

3 PLOWDEN BUILDINGS, TEMPLE, LONDON, Feb. ad, 1884.
DEAR ST..NICHOLAS: Just a little letter to tell you I like you very
much; I have taken you since 1881, and I have you bound every
year. My papa buys you for me each month, because I work hard
at my studies. Bessie L. wants to know how to use her Christmas
cards; she can make a very pretty folding door-screen about 5 feet
high; if the canvas is painted black and varnished, the cards look
very well upon it. She can also make fans, and tables for the draw-
ing-room which look very pretty. I am eleven years of age, and
when I am twelve, Mamma wants me to make her a screen forher
dining-room with my Christmas and birthday cards. I have seen
some, and they look very pretty. I hope you will publish this letter
from your little English friend, FLORRIE B.

NEW YORK CITY, March 3d, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am very much interested in The Land
of Fire," by Captain Reid, and also in the "Spinning-wheel
Stories." I like all Miss Alcott's works, and I hope she will write
a good many stories for this book. I have taken you for three or
four years, and I like you very much better than any other maga-
zine I have ever read. I am so sorry "Girl-Noblesse is to be con-
cluded in the next number. I like it very much.
Your constant reader, JOSIE V.
Miss Alcott will contribute a "Spinning-Wheel" story to each
number of ST. NICHOLAS for 1884.

1I4 WARREN AVE.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Your jolly good magazine for March
has come, and we enjoy it very much. My little sister, five years
old, is singing around the house about The Amiable Ape who Lived
on the African Cape."
I go to school where there are twenty-four hundred (2400) children,
but there are only sixty in our room, so we don't realize that there
are so many in the school.
I am eight years old, and Mamma is writing for me because I make
such a mess when I write, as I do to my Grandma, who is the dearest,
sweetest Grandma in the world.
Please give my love to Miss Louisa Alcott and the Amiable
Ape" lady. Your little friend, N. CLINTON T.

HARTFORD, CONN., March 3d, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAs: I write you this letter to-day, in hopes
it will be in the Letter-Box" in a little while. It is the first one I
ever wrote, but I have thought of doing it many times. I have
taken the ST. NICHOLAS four years, and so has a little girl that lives
across the street from me. We have nice times together in the sum-
mer, and often take our ST. NICHOLASES out and read them under
the trees. I am very much pleased with the ST. NICHOLAS. I
must not make my letter any longer, although I would like to.
Your loving reader, MABEL B. D.

HARPER'S FERRY, W. VA., February 29th.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in Harper's Ferry. I don't know
but one little girl here, so I am always glad to get you every month.
I think you are the nicest book I ever saw. I have no sisters, only
three brothers. I am ten years old. I certainly did like that story
in the March number called "Wong Ning's Ideas "; it was so funny.
We have beautiful scenery here; there are mountains all around us,
and John Brown's Fort is here, too. I spend the summer out in the
country at my aunt's; in the winter I stay at home. We have a
governess to teach us. We look forward with great pleasure to your
coming every month. Your constant reader,
ANNA LOVE R.

GERMANTOWN, COLUSA CO., CAL., February i, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAs: Our public school has been taking you
just a month; we all enjoy reading the nice stories and letters in
you. In our school there are thirty-six scholars; we have a nice
large play-ground, and we play different games at recesses. I live
two miles from our school.
We have had a great deal of rain, and it snowed very hard in the
Coast Range and the Sierra Nevada Mountains; it is a perfectly
beautiful sight in the morning to see the clear blue mountains
covered with snow.
I have. no sisters nor brothers, so I have a little friend staying with

me: she has been with me nearly four years; she goes to school with
me; we are in the same class. I must close now, for I am afraid
this letter will be too long to be printed.
Your little friend, LAURA C. R.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little Baltimore boy, whose papa
has read ST. NICHOLAS to him for four years. I have a puzzle for
other little boys to guess. I was born on the 5th of December, 1871,
and I have had two more birthdays than my dear mamma. Can
any of your readers tell me how old mamma is ?
Yours truly, E. S. T.
Baltimore, Feb. 9, 1884.

A NAUGHTY young contributor sends us these two sketches, which
he calls a 'respectful perversion' of three lines from 'Mary and Her
Little Lamb'" :

HERE comes another young contributor-Almeda H. Curtis-
with a little novelette:

THE LITTLE GIRL WHO DID NOT MIND PICKING OVER THE
RAISINS.
GRACIE HALL was eleven years old. She was a real nice little girl,
only she did love raisins. Now, you want to know what that
had to do with her being a nice little girl; well, I will tell you.
Her mamma was making a cake for her to take to a surprise
party the next day, and Gracie was reading a very interesting

580

[MAY,

] THE LETTER-BOX. 581

story-book she got last Christmas. "Geacie, want to pick over
some raisins for mamma, like a good little girl ?" I don't mind,"
said Gracie. When she was through, she handed them to her
mamma to put in the cake. "Are these all there are," said
mamma. "Yes, ma'am," said Grade. "Did you eat any of them,
Gracie? "Only a few, Mamma; only a few." "How often did
you eat them?" Gracie said: "I ate only one out of every five."
Mamma said no more; but when she asked Gracie to pick over
raisins after that, Gracie did not say, "I don't mind," but did
them without saying anything.

AND here is a juvenile bard who sends us some rhymes about

THE SWALLOW AND HER NEST.

THE rain is gone, the sun shines here,
Fields of green grass do now appear,
But some small part is still brown and sere.

The swallow, from her nest in the wall,
Doth tweet and chirp and say to all,
"This is my nest, look here, look here,
But you must not touch the eggs you see,
For they are my pride and property."

Four slender eggs: all which are spotted,
Partly with brown specks--they all are dotted.

The swallow is a bird that is ever on the wing,
And, like all happy birds, they sometimes sing;

But not on the ground, for that is not their way,
Though they do, more or less, I have heard people say.

Their nest is made up of mud or clay,
And they add to it faithfully day by day;
They carry earth and grass all the day long,
And don't get tired of their work or song.
W. B. J.
We fear that W. B. J. got a little tired of his song toward the
end of it.

CHEBOYGAN, MICH., February i4th, 1884.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl twelve years old, and
I have taken ST. NICHOLAS for four years; I love it very much.
My mamma died last Spring, so my aunty keeps house for us. I have
a very dear teacher that comes to our house to teach us, and I love
her very much. I have a little brother and sister. Arthuris nine
and Effie is six years old. You remember the Fan Brigade in ST.
NICHOLAS two or three years ago; we had it last fall with the
operetta of Red Riding Hood. It was very nice, and we made
about one hundred dollars. I hgve a pet pony whose name is Daisy.
She is jet black. I taught her to canter. In the summer I ride her
very often. I have a side-saddle, and a riding-habit which avery dear
friend made for me. I wish you would print this letter, as it is the
first one I have written. Yourlittle friend, MINA H.

Leonard Sparrow, Emma H., Grace M. Hall, Alice M. H., May
A., Willie D. Sanders, Cora Haseltine, Katy Sage, P. B., J. Allen
Montgomery, L. B., Mary Halvern, Ettie Cohen, Mabel M. Reed,
Corena L. Abbott, J. Edward Gifford, Alonzo L.Ware, Ella S. Gould,
H. L. Smith, Annie Ward, Gwennie Ward, Mabel G. Thelwall,
Margaret G. Anderson, E. J. S., Nellie S. T. W., Nina B. and
Elaine M., Annah E. Jacobs, Archie V. Thomson, Mabel Kellogg,
F. S. Arnold, Wynford K. Steele, Albert Pearson, George H. Pal-
mer, George Pulaski, Bessie Rhodes, Miss Katie C. Chamberlain,
Florence Montgomery, Mary E. Evans, Edna S. Rockwell, Lizzie
Baker, Bertha T., A Friend, Flora Derwent, Florence H., Marian
Pyott, Annie A. C., Moina M. Sandford, Bessie MacDougal, Mabel
Cholwell-Miller, Lillie H., Agnes Thorne, A. L. T., C. A. Elsberg,
Bessi- R., Grace H., Lulu Lindsay, Marion Bush, B. B. P., Willie
Thomas, Maude O., Edith C., Irene Hanson, Aubrey G. Maguire,
F. H., Guendolihe O'Brien, Gustavus Pauls, Ed. V. Shipsey,
Edward S. Wilson, George Bullard, Mabel Palmer, Bentra M.
Shelley, Edgar S. Banta, Margaret W. Leighton: We must thank
you all, dear boys and girls, for your hearty letters, and say how
much we should like to print every one of them; but there is not
room for even the briefest.

THE AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION -THIRTY-SEVENTH
REPORT.

VERY gratifying is it to report a larger number of new Chapters
this month than in any previous month in the history of the "A. A."
There has been, on an average, one new Chapter every day but
Sunday. Why should we not have a branch in every city and
village in the United States ? All are invited, young and old.
Prof. G. Howard Parker's report on the class in Entomology is
given this month, and further particulars regarding the general
meeting in Nashua next September.
It has been decided to print a new edition of the hand-book, in
cloth; but it can hardly be ready before June, and we defer any
description of it for the present.
The following kind letter will delight our young bird-students:

Dear Sir: I shall be happy to aid the A. A.," to the best of my
ability, in ornithological matters.
Truly yours, ARTHUR P. CHADBOURNE,
21 t .. .1: .1 .... 3t.,
1 -. ,I M ass.

NEW CHAPTERS.

No. Name. No. of Mfembers. Address.
575 Spencer, Mass. (A)........ 6..Miss May Ladd.
576 Hadley, Mass. (A)........ 6..Miss Mary A. Cook.
577 Rochester, N. Y. (C)..... 13..Charles Boswell.
578 Osceola, Iowa (A)......... 8..Harlan Richards.
79 Roxbury, N. Y. (A)...... .Henry G. Cartwright.
580 So. Boston, Mass. (C)..... 5 F. M. Spalding, 777 B'dway.
581 Urbana, Ohio (B)......... 7..Edward Stockslager.
582 Germantown, Pa. (E)..... 4..Miss Ada M. Wheeler, 127
W. Pa. St.
583 Chicago, Ill. (R)......... 6..G. E. Hale, 96 Drexel Ave.
584 Colorado Springs, Col. (A). 4..Mrs. E. B. McMorris.
585 Buffalo, N. Y. (I)......... 6..Francis M. Moody, r87 North
Pearl St.
586 Lowell, Mass. (C)........ 6..H.C. Raynes, 36 Lawrence St.
587 Concord, N. H. (A)....... 4..Miss Lunette E. Lamprey.
588 Chicago, Ill. (S).......... 8.. A. Wilkins, 41 Aldine Sq.
589 Cleveland, Ohio (B).......90. .H. Bert Crowl, 501 Franklin
Ave.
590 Pomfret Centre, Conn. (A). 4..Mrs. S. O. Marsh.
590 Tioga, Tioga Co., Pa. (A). 6.. Miss Winnie Smith.
592 New York, N. Y. (P)..... 4..C. A. Elsberg, 2ori Lexing-
ton Ave.
593 Brookline, Mass. (A)...... 6..Geo. L. Briggs.
594 No. Granville, N. Y. (A).. 6..James E. Rice.
595 Oneonta, N. Y. (A)....... 4. Miss Jessie E. Jenks.
596 Chicago, Ill. (T).......... 5..Byron W. Peck, 334 E.
Indiana.
597 Lawrence, Kansas (B)..... 5..Albert Garrett.
598 St. George's Hall (A)..... 17.Mrs. Mary B. Kinear, Reister-
town P. O., Maryland.
599 Bethlehem, Pa. (B)........ 4..Eric Doolittle.
600 Galveston, Texas (A)...... 5..Philip C. Tucker, Jr.

EXCHANGES.

Birch bark, magnetic sand, gypsum, pressed ferns, and autumn
leaves, for sea-sheils, foreign coins, and ores.- Harvey Sawyer,
Ludington, Mich.
2000 silk-worms, for Polyphemus cocoons.- Florence Maynard,
Northampton, Mass.
Minerals and eggs, for eggs and skins.-- Ge. H. Lorimer, 2246
Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill.
Minerals, insects, and cocoons, for birds' skins, eggs, insects, and
cocoons.- Carleton Gilbert, si6 Wildwood Ave,, Jackson, Mich.
Correspondence with distant chapters wanted by Frank H. Foote,
Keene, N. H.
Gypsum, chalcedony, meteorite, and mica, for fossils and rare
minerals.--Frank U. Jay, 2510 Indiana Ave., Chicago, 111.
Pacific shells and sea-weeds, for ocean curiosities, and corre-
spondence with Texas chapters wished for by H. C. Howe, of
Fulton, N. Y.
Rare butterflies, for New England butterflies.-Chas. C. Beale,
Faulkner, Mass.
Fossils and minerals, for fossils. Correspondence wanted in every
State, with reference to exchanging.-E. P. Boynton, Third Ave.
and 5th St., Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
Feldspar, mica rock, eggs, and cocoons, for cocoons.- Percival C.
Pyle, Wilmington, Del.
Lepidoptera.-Jas. P. Curtiss, 57 Seward Ave., Auburn, N. Y.
I can not furnish anymore trilobites for exchange.-Wm. E. Loy,
Eaton, Ohio.

THE LETTER-BOX.

Minerals for exchange, and correspondence.--E. Y. Gibson, 723
Washington Ave., Jackson, Mich.
Retinite, pink, yellow, and white, calcite, malachite, specularite,
serpentine, auriferous iron, pyrites, and others, for either lepid--
coleo-or hymenoptera.-E. R. Lamed, 2546 S. Dearborn St.,
Chicago, Ill.
Zeolite, stilobite, heulandite, feldspar, etc., for cinnabar and
other minerals.- Franklin Bache, X23 Price St, Germantown,
Phila., Pa.
Large amount of natural history material, and many consecutive
numbers of Appleton's Journal (weekly), for works of Agassiz,
Mivart, Darwin, and Huxley, upon Evolution.-W. R. Lighton,
Ottumwa, Iowa.
Craw-fish, oringe-blossoms, Mississippi sand in bottles, for bird-
skins, ocean shells, and star-fish.--Percy L. Benedict, 1243 Great
Charles St., New Orleans, La.

REPORT OF CLASS IN ENTOMOLOGY.

CAMBRIDGE, MASS., Feb. i6th, 1884.
Of the twenty members of the Entomological Class, five have
completed the full number of papers with credit, and are therefore
entitled to full honors. They are:
I. Bashford Dean, New York City, N. Y.
2. Helen Mnt-nmmenn n Wakefield, Mass.
3. Mrs. R :I.. -i' 1 I"I Pittsburg, Pa.
4 Daisy G. Dame, West.Medford, Mass.
5. Isabel G. Dame, West Medford, Mass,
Of the remainder who have passed with credit on a part of the
assigned subjects, are: ...
H. A. Stewart, Gettysburg, Pa., in Hemipter, Neuroptera,
Diptera, Coleoptera. and insects in general.
IAlonzo H. Stewart, Washington, D. C.--Lepidoptera and
Hemiptera.
Fred Clearwater, Brazil, Ind.-Lepidoptera.
George J. Grider, Bethlehem, Pa.- Lepidoptera.
Elizabeth Marquand, Newbuiryport, Mass.- Lepidoptera.
Arthur Stone, Boston, Mass.- Lepidoptera.
Respectfully submitted,
G. HOWARD PARKER.

AN ANECDOTE OF AGASSIZ.

H. E. Deats, of Pittstown, N. J,, sends the following interesting
anecdote of Prof. Agassiz, which he copied from the Home Circle:
"His father destined him for a commercial life, and was impatient
at his devotion to frogs, snakes, and fishes. The last, especially,
were the objects of the boy's attention. He came to London with
letters to Sir Roderick Murchison. .
You have been studying nature,' said the great man, bluntly.
'What have you learned?'
The lad was timid, not sure at that moment that he had learned
anything. 'I think,' he :. 1-.;ti. 1-now a little about fishes.'
"'V Wry well. There- .r .. .-.....:r ,. of the Royal Society to-
night. I will take you with me there.'
All of the great scientific savants of England belonged to this
society. That evening, toward its close. Sir Roderick rose and
said:
S' I have a young friend here from Switzerland, who thinks he
knows something about fishes; how much, I have a fancy to try.
There is, under this cloth, a perfect skeleton of a fish which existed
long before man.' He then gave the precise locality in which it.had
been found, with one or two other facts concerning it. The species to
which the specimen belonged was, of course, extinct. 'Can you
sketch for me on the blackboard your idea of this fish?' said Sir
Roderick.
"Agassiz took the chalk, and rapidly sketched a skeleton fish.
Sir Roderick held up the specimen. The portrait was correct in
every bone and line. The grave old doctors burst into loud applause.
Sir,' Agassiz said, on telling the story, 'that was the proudest
moment of my life--no, the happiest, for I knew now my father
would consent that I should give my life to science.' "
[This anecdote may contain a helpful suggestion for the very
small number of our members who are opposed and ridiculed at
home. Study earnestly, and learn so much that you can prove the
value of your work.]

QUESTIONS.

x. Do earthquakes generally occur in volcanic regions ? 2. Why
does whirling make a person dizzy ? 3. What is the best way to
keep cocoons and caterpillars? 4. Of what use are toads? 5. Do
squirrels drink water? 6. What are the uses of flies? 7. Explain
the comparative anatomy of the legs of a horse and a man. 8. Where
do prairie-dogs get water? 9. What is the best cure for a rattle-
snake's bite ?

NOTES.

86. Attacks Cynthia.- Some one in the Agassiz March report
asks, What is the Attacus Cynthia ? "
SIt is a large moth from the "Ailanthus Silkworm," a native of
Japan, and introduced in 1858 into France, where it is now said to
be "as much at home as in its native habitat."
I have had two cocoons which opened and produced handsome
moths about the size of the Cecropia Moth. The wings have a
narrow band of white, which, as spread, form a sort of collar, and
are extended by a crescent of a rich brown, edged with satiny white.
There are crescents on both front and hinder wings. There is, out-
side the white line, a rose-purple border, which edges the collar, and
the heavy inner edge of the broad border, which, like the whole
ground-work is a sort of brown olive-green. The body is covered
with rows of white cottony tufts, three parallel rows down the back,
six in each row, about the size of a small pin's head. On the front
edge of the fore-wings is a small oval black spot, bordered with an
edge of white above. The cocoon resembles that of Attacus Prome-
thia. These came to me from Brooklyn, N. Y.
The caterpillar, (which I have not seen) and the cocoon and.
eggs (but not the moth) are figured in Figure's Insect World, p.
248, where, when full grown," it is described as "emerald-green,
with the head, the feet, and the last segment of a beautiful golden
yellow." J. P. B.

87. Snow Crystals.-While walking in a meadow I came to a
small hillock between two evergreen trees. In ascending this knoll,
I was suddenly transfixed by the beautiful colors of the snow; the
crystals of which the slant rays of the February sun lighted up
brightly. Below are the prominent colors, the pure beauty of which
can not be described:
Green.- With a sort of liquid luster.
Blue.-Very clear, and merging into the green.
Purple.-Which gave a magnificent cast to the landscape.
Linwood M. Howe.

88. Trenton, B.- I found the nest of a wood-pewee (Contofp
virens). It had two cream-colored eggs, speckled with black near
the larger end. I climbed the tree, but did not touch the eggs.
While I was looking at them, one egg cracked open in the middle,
and a little wood-pewee came out.- Herbert Westwood, Pres.
[We have never known of another instance in which any one has
seen a wild bird leave the egg. Has any one ?]

A CONVENTION PROPOSED BY CHAPTER 21.

We-are the more inclined to publish the following communication
from Chapter 21, because the Nashua branch is one of our oldest
and most energetic; because the plan is entirely spontaneous with
them, and especially, because they assure us that the proposed con-
vention is for the discussion of scientific subjects, comparison of
methods, exchange of specimens, etc., but not politics "
We should add as one of the chief advantages, the opportunity of
becoming personally acquainted. After long and pleasant inter-
course by letter, it is worth much fb meet each other face to face.
Let us all go to Nashua next September, if possible, and have a
good and profitable time.

To THE CHAPTERS OF THE AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION.

Believing that nothing can promote the welfare of the Association
so much as annual meetings of the chapters, Chapter 21 proposes to
try the experiment of inviting the A. A. to meet at Nashua, N. H.,
September third and fourth, 1884.
The exercises will consist of the discussion of scientific subjects
and questions that relate to the welfare of the Association. Dele-
gates are requested to make short reports of their several Chapters.
Please forward to the Nashua Chapter any important subject you
would like the Convention to consider.
An opportunity will be given to the delegates to visit the finest
private mineralogical collection in the State.
Chapters intending to send delegates will please inform us im-
mediately in regard to the number; for if there is not a sufficient
number intending to come, the Convention will not be held. The
President of the A. A. has consented to attend, and other scien-
tists are expected.
Good hotel accommodations can be obtained at two dollars per day.
Chapters are reminded that the Convention will afford an excellent
opportunity to effect an exchange of specimens.
If other information is desired, apply, with stamps, to
F. W.Greeley, Nashua, N. H.
[N. B. Chapters which think favorably of sending delegates to
this Convention will kindly advise the President of the A. A. as
well as the Secretary of Chapter I2.]
HARLAN H. BALLARD,
Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.

582

[MAY,

1884.] THE RIDDLE-BOX. 583

THE RIDDLE-BOX.

TRANSFORMATION PUZZLE. Venice. My 23-14-38-73 is a title of address. My 56-3-20-32-42-36-
76 is cut in small hollows. My 37-z-69-44-z1-35-6o-28-5o is a tree of
CHANGE the first and last letter of the first word defined to form the laurel family whose bark has an aromatic smell and taste. My
the second word defined. Example: Change a substance used in 62-9-65-29-64-72 is a projecting candlestick. My 15-46-49-54 is
brewing to a healing substance. Answer: m-al-t, b-al-m. necessity. My O -52-x2-70-25 is convenient. My 4-67-71-51-7-45-
i. Change to supplicateto a measureofweight. 2. Change a lesson 47-31-2739-68-34 is pertaining to the north-west. My 22-6-24-13-
to facility. 3. Change a season to undisturbed. 4. Change to glide 43-74 are large vehicles. LOTTIE J. J.
to a medley. 5. Change a kind of fuel to a word meaning
to erect. 6. Change a girl's name to a masculine name. 7.
Change domestic animals to a garment worn by the Ro-
mans. 8. Change perfume to something worshiped. 9.
Change a horned animal to a masculine name. o1. Change
species to a feminine name. ci. Change joyous to kill.
When these changes have been rightly made, place the i
words one below the other in the order here given. The s
primals will name certain embellishments used on the day
named by the finals. CYRIL DEANE.

FRAMED WORD-SQUARE.
5 7

FRAME: From I to 2, a common name for Campeachy
wood; from 3 to 4, one who warns of faults or gives advice
by way of reproof or caution; from 5 to 6, a share; from 7 (
to 8, the apparent junction of earth and sky.
INCLUDED WORD-SQUARE: I. The color of the wood of
the upper bar. 2. Part of the day. 3. A cave. J. P. B.

4J
DOUBLE DIAGONALS. T

THE diagonals (reading downward) from left to right, a OU D I
climbing plant; from right to left, a precious stone.
Cross-words: i. Having joints. 2. Peaceful. 3. Transit i
from one place to another. 4 An injunction. 5. To prepare.
6. Flags of an army. 7. A controversy. F. s. F. j

A CREMATION-CHARADE.

To BURN my first, with heat would fill;
To burn my second, the birds would kill;
To burn my whole, if such were fate,
Would destroy a town in the Keystone State.
"S. M. ARTY." 7

BEHEADINGS.

THE beheaded letters, read in the order here given, will HOW OUL
spell the name of the President of the United States who
said, "Nothing valuable can be lost by taking time." How OUL V
CROSS-wORDS: I. Behead partly open and leave a recep-
tacle. 2. Behead a musical company and leave a conjnnc-
tion. 3. Behead to tear and leave termination. 4. Behead gY O
dry and leave to free from. 5. Behead a space of time and O
leave a pronoun. 6. Behead "so be it" and leave mankind.
7. Behead a ditch and leave a kind of grain. 8. Behead a
bird and leave a famous vessel. 9. Behead a familiar con- oS t
traction of a Latin word meaning "in the same place" and
leave to command. o1. Behead two and a quarter inches
and leave to be ill. Ii. Behead a hood and leave a bird.
12. Behead a sign and leave adults. 13. Behead the name /
of a famous but improvident king and leave the perception of FIRST read the above as a rebus. The answer will be a four-line
sounds. 14. Behead nice and leave to consume. stanza. Then select the eight letters inclosed in eight similar circles.
KANSAS BOY. When these letters are rightly placed, they will spell the name of the
writer of the stanza.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
I AM composed of seventy-six letters, and am two lines from one MY primals name a country of Europe; my finals a sea-port of
of Thomson's poems. that country noted for its trade in grain.
My 57-33-16-26 are heavy vapors. My 21-58-17-66-8-63 name the CROSS-WORDS (of equal length): I. A hut for herdsmen. 2.
"melancholy Dane." My 2-59-41-48-75-53 is a cover for the hand. Joined. 3. To greet. 4. A succession. 5. Results. 6. A penin-
My 30-55-19 is tumult. My 40-18-5-61 is the chief magistrate of sula of North America. VESSIE w.

THE RIDDLE-BOX.

ST. ANDREW'S CROSS OF DIAMONDS.

I. UPPER LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In candle. 2. A large
vessel or cistern. 3. A gentleman's servant. 4. A mild chloride
of mercury, much used as a medicine. 5. A grain-measure of
Tripoli, containing nearly six gallons. 6. A number. 7. In candle.
II. UPPER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In candle. 2. A wager.
3. To weave or entwine together. 4. Gained knowledge of. 5. Re-
sembling tin. 6. The governor of Algiers. 7. In candle.
III. CENTRAL DIAMOND: I. In candle ? Th e-r -fan insect.
3. Bare. 4. Compared. 5. Rigid. 6. A I ':--l.I. 7. In
candle.
IV. LOWER LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In candle. 2. Was
seated. 3. A convention or council. 4, Exhausted. 5. To pull or
haul. 6. To expire. 7. In candle.
V. LOWER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In candle.' 2. Aperiod
of time. 3. A species of antelope in South Africa. 4. A soldier who
is taught and armed to serve either on horseback or on foot. 5.
The positive pole of an electric battery. 6. The female of the fallow-
deer. 7. In candle. DE..

ZIGZAG.

EACH of the words described contains three letters. The zigzag,
beginning at the upper right-hand corner, will spell the name of a
great engineering enterprise recently completed.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A large wooden vessel. 2. A.sphere. 3. A
nocturnal bird. 4. A lad. 5. A place of safety. 6. Advanced in

years. 7. An affirmation. 8. A unit. 9. The central part of a
wheel. oo. Anger. II. Much needed in summer. x2. To annex.
13. Enormous. 14. A slippery customer. FRANK.

A MAY DIAGONAL.

EACH of the six pictures here shown may be described by a word
of six letters. When these have been rightly guessed, and placed
one below the other in the order here given, th. ....-.i from the
upper left-hand comer to the lower right-hand -- -.. spell the
day for an annual excursion.

WORD-SQUARE.
r. The father of Saturn. 2. Not of remote date. 3. To charge
with an offense. 4. In grammar, a word meaning of neither
gender. 5.. Invisible. 6. The surname of an English writer of the
eighteenth century. "HYPERION."

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER.

CORKSCREW PUZZLE. Welcome showers. Cross-words: i. eWer. FIVE WORD-SQUARES. I. x. Late. 2. Acid. 3. Time. 4.
2. ovEn. 3. pLan. 4. roCk. 5. cOat. 6. doMe. 7. bEnt. 8. Eden. II. i. Earl. 2. Area. 3. Ream. 4. Lame. III. i.
noSe. 9. tHin. to. prOp. II. oWls. 12. tiEs. 13. tRap. 14. Base. 2. Amen. 3. Send. 4. Ends. IV. I. Ring. 2. Iron.
roSe.- CHARADE. Breakfast. 3. Nora. 4. Gnaw. V. I. Sane. 2. Arid. 3. Nine. 4. Eden.
EASY BEHEADINGS. i. G-oat. 2. G-one. 3. S-cream. 4. PI. Again the blackbirds sing; the streams
G-old. 5. T-omsk. Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams,
ENIGMA. Smoother, smother, mother, other, her, he, eh. And tremble in the April showers
CONCEALED WORD-SQUARE. I. Whom. 2. Hero. 3. Orbs. 4. The tassels of the maple flowers.
Most. HOUR-GLASS. Centrals, flowers. Cross-words: i. preFace. 2.
. DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Benjamin; finals, Franklin. Cross- baLmy. 3. dOt. 4. W 5. bEg. 6. beRth. 7. ConSole.
words: i. BlufF. 2. ErroR, 3, NevA. 4. JoiN. 5. ArK. 6. NOVEL DOUBLE ACROSTICS. I. Primals, Easter; finals, Lilies.
ModeL. 7. IcenI. 8. NatioN. Cross-words: i. EntaiL. 2. AbassI. 3. SequeL. 4. TahitI.
DIAMOND. I. S. 2. Sad. 3. Mated. 4. Satiric. 5. Satirical. 5. EffacE. 6. RecesS. II.' Primals, Lilies; finals, Lenten.
6. Derived. 7. Dicer. 8. Cad. 9. L. Cross-words: I. LentiL. 2. InsanE. 3. ListeN. 4. InverT. 5-
CUBE. From to 2, rascal; 2 to 6, linnet 5 to 6, escort; x to 5, EngagE. 6. SaturN. III. Primals, Lenten; finals, Season.
relate; 3 to 4, Tabard; 4 to 8, doctor; 7 to 8, tartar; 3 to 7, tar- Cross-words: I. LimitS. 2. EntirE. 3. NauseA. 4. ThameS.
get; I to 3, rout; 2 to 4, lord; 6 to 8, tier; 5 to 7, exit. 5. EskimO. 6. NatioN.
THE naines of those who send solutions are printed in the second number after that in which the puzzles appear. Answers should be
addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth street, New York City.
ANSWERS TO FEBRUARY PUZZLES received, too late for acknowledgment in April number, from Hester M. F. Powell, 13.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER were received, before March 20, from Cyril Deane- Madeleine Vultee -
Maggie T. Tunill--Jessie A. Platt- Mamma, Hattie, and Clara.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN 'THE MARCH NUMBER were received, before March 2o, from J. D. W., I-Willie Mossman, 5--E. N., i
-Helen Ballantine, 2--Edith M. Van Dusen, 2-Bessie Grise, I Grace H. Frisbie, 2 Maude Bugbee, q -" Young Martin" and
" Merry Pecksniff," 7-Paul Reese, rr- Viola Percy Conklin, 2-R. McKean Barry, Carrie Howard, Ida Paine,' May H.
Munroe, I-Laura Churchill, -J. V., i--S. R. T., i --Julia Vauk and Mamie Rogers, 3-De and Ish, Olive B. Worden, -
Eben M. Willis, x-Uncle Mo and Cousin Mamie, 2-Nellie B. Kempton, i- Moses W., 4-Jessie Doig, x-Maggie B. Hoffman, i
-Will R. Rowe, =-Birdie Alberger, --Amy M. Thunder, --Ed, 9-Louie, i-Nellie K., 2-Frank T. Pope, 5--Clara, I-
"Fin. I. S.," 3-" Shumway Hen and Chickens," xi--M. E. K., 2-Henry Amsden, --Bessie Evanston, I-Reginald H.
Murphy, Jr., I- Wm. H. Clark, t Edna Seaman, S. S., 3-Sallie Viles, 9- Buttercup, 3 Carrie Rothschild, H. C. White,
2 -Jennie and Birdie K., 4 Alex. H. Laidlaw, 3- Geo. P. Miller, 8 -Harry and Kittie, i Agnes Griffen, i H. I. D., I John
C. Winne and Geo. C. Beebe, Effie K. Talboys, 4 Edward J. Shipsey, 2 Edward S. Oliver, 2 Bettie S. Latham and Mrs. B., 5
- F. B. Bonesteele, I Josie Buchanan, 2- Russell K. Miller, 2 Lizzie and Papa, 7- L. C. B., 4- Mamma and Adelaide, 6-
Edith Helen Moss, 2 "The Cottage," 3- Geo. James Bristol, 4 Minnie B. Murray, t -- Julia T. Nelson, 2 -" March Wind," 4 -
Alice V. Westwood, 7- W. B. Angell, 8- George Lyman Waterhouse, iz --Bessie B. Anderson, 8--Willie Sheraton, 3 -Laura and
Willie Rice, 9 Charlotte Evans, 2- Blake and Ellison H., 6- Appleton H., 5- Chas. H. Kyte, xo--Marguerite Kyte, 2- M. White
and V. Westover, 5-Bessie Rogers and Co., so- Lucy M. Bradley, x -I. S. Palmer, 7 Geo. Habenicht, -- E. Westervelt, i -
Margaret, Muriel, and Edith Grundy, 5- B. T. B., 3 Hugh and Cis, I Francis W. Islip, ti.

584

[MAY.

I-
*'l*IX
X**~X)
i*Sy
XC

	Front Cover
	"Rocket" and "Flyer"
	The scarlet tanager
	Supporting herself
	The philopena
	Word inclined to jingle
	The land of fire
	The river-end Moreys' Rab
	The doves at Mendon
	Fifth spinning-wheel story
	The song of the roller skates
	Our roller skating brigade
	Historic boys
	Marvin and his boy hunters
	A meeting on the rail
	Maiden-hair
	Work and play for young folk: XII,...
	For very little folk: The little...
	The St. Nicholas almanac
	Jack-in-the-pulpit
	The letter-box
	The riddle-box
	Back Cover
	Spine

MILLISECOND	CLASS.METHOD	MESSAGE
0	sobekcm_page_globals.constructor
0	sobekcm_page_globals.constructor	Application State validated or built
0	sobekcm_database.verify_item_lookup_object
0	sobekcm_page_globals.constructor	Navigation Object created from URI query string
0	sobekcm_database.verify_item_lookup_object
0	sobekcm_page_globals.display_item	Retrieving item or group information
0	sobekcm_page_globals.get_entire_collection_hierarchy	Retrieving hierarchy information
0	sobekcm_assistant.get_entire_collection_hierarchy
0	cached_data_manager.retrieve_item_aggregation
0	cached_data_manager.retrieve_item_aggregation	Found item aggregation on local cache
0	item_aggregation_builder.get_item_aggregation	Found 'all' item aggregation in cache
0	system.web.ui.page.page_load (ufdc.page_load)
0	sobekcm_page_globals.constructor.on_page_load
0	html_echo_mainwriter.add_style_references	Adding style references to HTML
0	html_echo_mainwriter.add_text_to_page	Reading the text from the file and echoing back to the output stream
72	html_echo_mainwriter.add_text_to_page	Finished reading and writing the file