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NICHOLAS.

JUNE, 1884.

[Copyright, 1884, by THE CENTURY CO.]

A CHILD'S NIGHT-THOUGHTS.

BY LUCY LARCOM.

THEY put her to bed in the darkness,
And bade her be quiet and good;
But she sobbed in the silence, and trembled,
Though she tried to be. brave as she could.

For the Night was so real, so awful!
A mystery closing around,
Like the walls of a deep, deep dungeon,
That hid her from sight and sound.

So stifling, so empty, so dreary--
That horror of loneliness black !
She fell asleep, moaning and fearing
That morning would never come back.

A baby must bear its own sorrow,
Since none understands it aright; -
But at last, from her bosom was lifted
That terrible fear of the night.

One evening, the hands that undressed her
Led her out of the door close by,
And bade her look up for a moment-
Up into the wonderful sky, /

Where the planets and constellations,
Deep-rooted in darkness, grew
Like blossoms from black earth blooming,
All sparkling with silvery dew.

It seemed to bend down to meet her,-
That luminous purple dome;

She was caught up into a glory,
Where her baby-heart was at home; -

Like a child in its father's garden,
As glad as a child could be,
In the feeling of perfect protection
And limitless liberty.

And this had been all around her,
While she shuddered alone in bed I
The beautiful, grand revelation,
With ecstasy sweet she read.

And she sank into sound child-slumber,
All folded in splendors high,
All happy and soothed with blessings
Breathed out of the heart of the sky.

And in dreams her light, swift footsteps
Those infinite spaces trod,-
A fearless little explorer
Of the paths that lead up to God.

The darkness now was no dungeon,
But a key unto wide release;
And the Night was a vision of freedom--
A Presence of heavenly peace.

And I doubt not that in like manner
Might vanish, as with a breath,
The gloom and the lonely terror
Of the Mystery we call Death.

ST

VOL. XI.

No. 8.

588 SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.

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T 1-1 I'NNIN \\ H EL ST '-RY.

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lliii

garlands of ivy and gay with tufts of fragrant wall-
flowers, and along the fosse the shadows deepened
daily as the young leaves thickened on the inter-
lacing branches overhead. Women sang while
they beat their clothes by the pool; wooden shoes
clattered to and fro as the girls brought water from
the fountain in Place St. Louis; men, with their
longhair, embroidered jackets, and baggy breeches,
drank cider at the inn doors; and the great Breton
horses shook their high collars till the bells rang
again as they passed along the roads that wound
between wide fields of colza, buckwheat, and clover.
Up at the chateau, which stood near the ruins
of the ancient castle, the great banner streamed
in the wind, showing, as its folds blew out, the
device and motto of the Beaumanoirs- two clasped
hands and the legend, "En tout chemin loyaute."*
In the court-yard hounds brayed, horses pranced,
and servants hurried about; for the count was go-
ing to hunt the wild boar. Presently, away they
went, with the merry music of horns, the clatter
of hoofs, and the blithe ring of voices, till the
pleasant clamor died away in the distant woods,
where mistletoe clung to the great oaks, and men-

of linen, spread to bleach in the green meadow by
the river Rance.
If I may not hunt, '11 away to Yvonnef and
take a holiday. She can tell better tales than any
in this weary book, .the bane of my life

As he spoke, the boy struck a volume that lay
on the wide ledge, with a petulant energy that sent
all w-as quiet and deserted hw; so, wit h a boyis

laugh and a daring glance at the dangerous de-
blue-guwned, whIILc-Uappdci fguic, piirkhiiJg vibs

of linen, he said to the doves cooing on the green meadow byover-
head: "Here'safine pretextforescape Being
locked in, how can I get maway to Ylesson unless I fetch
the a holiday. She can t Tell better tales of the time I linger, and
in this wearyll be well fed, my pretty birds."
As he spoke,winging himself outruck as if it wervolume thatno new
feat, he cimbde led boldlyge, with a petulant energy the ivy that sent
it flutteringd the carved flowers and figures which made
ashamed and half amused, young Gaston peeped

a ladder for his random shot had hit any one. But
all was quiet he touchdeserted ground; so, he raced away
likeaugh a hound a daring glance at the meadow, dangerous de-
was welcmcent, he said to the doves cooing on the roof over-
head : Here 's a fine pretext for escape. Being
locked in, how can I get my lesson unless I fetch
the book? Tell no tales of the time I linger, and
you shall be well fed, my pretty birds."
Then swinging himself out as if it were no new
feat, he climbed boldly down through the ivy that
half hid the carved flowers and figures which made
a ladder for his agile feet.
The moment he touched ground, he raced away
like a hound in full scent to the meadow, where he
was welcomed by a rosy, brown-eyed lass, whose

* Always loyal. t Pronounced Evone.

[JUNE,

SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.

white teeth shone as she laughed to see him leap
the moat, dodge behind the wall, and come bound-
ing toward her, his hair streaming in the wind,
and his face full of boyish satisfaction in this
escapade.
"The old tale," he panted, as he threw himself
down upon the grass and flung the recoveredbook
beside him. "This dreary Latin drives me mad,
and I will not waste such days as this poring
over dull pages like a priest, when I should be
hunting like a knight and gentleman."
"Nay, dear Gaston, but you ought, for obe-
dience is the first duty of the knight, and honor of
the gentleman," answered the girl, in a soft,
reproachful tone, which seemed to touch the lad,
as the voice of a master tames a high-mettled
horse.
Had Father Nevin trusted to my honor, I would
not have run away; but he locked me in like a
monk in a cell, and that I will not bear. Just one
hour, Yvonne, one little hour of freedom, then I
will go back, else there will be no sport for me to-
morrow," said the lad, recklessly pulling up the
bluets that starred the grass about him.
"Ah, if I were set to such a task, I would so
gladly learn it that I might be a fitter friend for
you," said the girl, reverently turning the pages
of the book she could not read.
"No need of that; I like you as you are, and
by my faith, I doubt your great willingness, for
when I last played tutor and left you to spell out
the pretty legend of St. Coventin and his little fish,
I found you fast asleep with the blessed book up-
on the floor," laughed Gaston, turning the tables
on his mentor, with great satisfaction.
The girl laughed also as she retorted, My tutor
should not have left me to play with his dogs. I
bore my penance better than you, and did not run
away. Come, now, we '11 be merry. Will you talk,
or shall I sing, while you rest this hot head, and
dream of horse and hound and spearing the wild
boar? added Yvonne, smoothing the locks of hair
scattered on the grass, with a touch as gentle as if
the hand were that of a lady, and not that of a peas-
ant rough with hard work.
Since I may not play a man's part yet, amuse
me like a boy with the old tales your mother used
to tell when we watched the fagots blaze in the
winter nights. It is long since I have heard one,
and I am never tired hearing of the deeds I mean
to match, if not outdo, some day.
Let me think a bit till I remember your favor-
ites, and do you listen to the bees above there in the
willow, setting you a good example, idle boy," said
Yvonne, spreading a coarse apron for his head,
while she sat beside him racking her brain for tales
to beguile this truant hour.

Her father was the count's forester, and when the
countess had died some sixteen years before, leav-
ing a month-old boy, good dame Gillian had taken
the motherless baby and nursed and reared him
with her little girl, so faithfully and tenderly that
the count never could forget the loyal service. As
babies, the two slept in one cradle; as children
they played and quarreled together; and as boy
and girl they defended, comforted, and amused
each other. But time brought inevitable changes,
and both felt that the hour of separation was near;
for, while Yvonne went on leading the peasant
life to which she was born, Gaston was receiving
the education befitting a young count. The chap-
lain taught him to read and write, with lessons in
sacred history and a little Latin. Of the forester
he learned woodcraft, and his father taught him
horsemanship and the use of arms, accomplish-
ments considered all-important in those days.
Gaston cared nothing for books, except such as
told tales of chivalry, but dearly loved athletic
sports, and at sixteen rode the most fiery horse
without a fall, handled a sword admirably, could
kill a boar at the first shot, and longed ardently
for war, that he might prove himself a man. A
brave, high-spirited, generous boy, with a very
tender spot in his heart for the good woman who
had been a mother to him and his little foster-
sister, whose idol he was. For days he seemed to
forget these humble friends, and led the gay,
active life of his age and rank; but if wounded in
the chase, worried by the chaplain, disappointed
in any plan, or in disgrace for any prank, he turned
instinctively to Dame Gillian and Yvonne, sure of
help and comfort for mind and body.
Companionship with him had refined the girl, and
given her glimpses of a world into which she could
never enter, yet where she could follow with eager
eyes and high hopes the fortunes of this dear Gas-
ton, who was both her prince and brother. Her
influence over him was great, for she was of a calm
and patient nature, as well as brave and prudent
beyond her years. His will was law; yet in seem-
ing to obey, she often led him, and he thanked her
for the courage with which she helped him to con-
trol his fiery temper and strong will. Now, as she
glanced at him she saw that he was already growing
more tranquil under the soothing influences of the
murmuring river, the soft flicker of the sunshine,
and a blessed sense of freedom.
So, while she twisted her distaff, she told the
stirring tales of warriors, saints, and fairies whom all
Breton peasants honor, love, and fear. But best of
all was the tale of Gaston's own ancestor, Jean de
Beaumanoir, the hero of Ploirmel, where, when
sorely wounded and parched with thirst, he cried
for water, and Geoffrey du Bois answered, like a

SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.

grim old warrior as he was, 'Drink thy blood,
Beaumanoir, and the thirst will pass'; and he
drank, and the battle madness seized him, and he
slew ten men, winning the fight against great
odds, to his everlasting glory."
"Ah, those were the times to live in If they
could only come again, I would be a second Jean!"
Gaston sprung to his feet as he spoke, all aglow
with the warlike ardor of his race, and Yvonne
looked up at him, sure that he would prove himself
worthy descendant of the great baron and his wife,
the daughter of the brave Du Guesclin.
But you shall not be treacherously killed, as he
was, for I will save you as the peasant woman saved
poor Gilles de Bretagne when starving in the tower,
or fight for you as Jeanne d'Arc fought for her lord,"
answered Yvonne, dropping her distaff to stretch
out her hand to him; for she, too, was on her feet.
Gaston took the faithful hand, and pointing to
the white banner floating over the ruins of the old
castle, said heartily: 'We will always stand by
one another, and be true to the motto of our
house till death."
"We will! answered the girl, and both kept
the promise loyally, as we shall see.
Just at that moment the sound of hoofs made
the young enthusiasts start and look toward the
road that wound through the valley to the hill.
An old man on a slowly pacing mule was all they
saw, but the change that came over both was comical
in its suddenness; for the gallant knight turned
to a truant school-boy, daunted by the sight of his
tutor, while the rival of the Maid of Orleans grew
pale with dismay.
I am lost if he spy me, for my father vowed I
should not hunt again unless I did my task. He
will see me if I run, and where can I hide till he
has past ? whispered Gaston, ashamed of his panic,
yet unwilling to pay the. penalty of his prank.
But quick-witted Yvonne saved him; for lifting
one end of the long web of linen, she showed a hol-
low whence some great stone had been moved, and
Gaston slipped into the green nest, over which the
linen lay smoothly when replaced.
On came the chaplain, glancing sharply about
him, being of an austere and suspicious nature.
He saw nothing, however, but the peasant girl in
her quaint cap and wooden sabots, singing to her-
self as she leaned against a tree with her earthen
jug in her hand. The mule paused in the light
shadow of the willows to crop a mouthful of grass
before climbing the hill, and the chaplain seemed
glad to rest a moment, for the day was warm and
the road dusty.
Come hither, child, and give me a draught of
water," he called, and the girl ran to fill her pitcher,
offering it with a low reverence.

Thanks, daughter A fine day for the bleach-
ing, but over warm for much travel. Go to your
work, child; I will tarry a moment in the shade be-
fore I return to my hard task of sharpening a dull
youth's wit," said the old man when he had
drunk; and with a frowning glance at the room
where he had left his prisoner, he drew a breviary
from his pocket and began to read, while the mule
browsed along the road-side.
Yvonne went to sprinkling the neglected linen,

, I FOUND YOU FAST ASLEEP WITH THE BOOK ON THE FLOOR."
wondering with mingled anxiety and girlish mer-
riment how Gaston fared. The sun shone hotly
on the dry cloth, and as she approached the boy's
hiding-place, a stir would have betrayed him had
the chaplain's eyes been lifted.
Sprinkle me quickly; I am stifling in this
hole," whispered an imploring voice.
Drink thy blood, Beaumanoir, and the thirst
will pass," quoted Yvonne, taking a naughty
satisfaction in the ignominious captivity of the will-
ful boy. A long sigh was the only answer he
gave, and taking pity on him, she made a little
hollow in the linen where she knew his head lay,
and poured in water till a choking sound assured
her Gaston had enough. The chaplain looked up,

590

JUNE,

1884.] SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES. 591

but the girl coughed loudly, as she went to refill
her jug, with such a demure face that he suspected
nothing, and presently ambled away to seek his
refractory pupil.
The moment he disappeared, a small earthquake
seemed to take place under the linen, for it flew
up violently, and a pair of long legs waved joyfully
in the air as Gaston burst into a ringing laugh,
which Yvonne echoed heartily. Then, springing
up, he said, throwing back his wet hair and shaking
his finger at her: You dared not betray me, but
you nearly drowned me, wicked girl. I can not
stop for vengeance now; but I'll toss you into the
river some day, and leave you to get out as you
can."
Then he was off as quickly as he came, eager to
reach his prison again before the chaplain came to
hear the unlearned lesson. Yvonne watched him
till he climbed safely in at the high window and
disappeared with a wave of the hand, when she,
too, went back to her work, little dreaming what
brave parts both were to play in dangers and cap-
tivities of which these youthful pranks and perils
were but a foreshadowing.
Two years later, in the month of March, 1793,
the insurrection broke out in Vendee, and Gaston
had his wish; for the old count had been an officer
of the king's household, and hastened to prove his
loyalty. Yvonne's heart beat high with pride as
she saw her foster-brother ride gallantly away be-
side his father, with a hundred armed vassals be-
hind them, and the white banner fluttering above
their heads in the fresh forest wind.
She longed to go with him; but her part was to
watch and wait, to hope and pray, till the hour
came when she, like many another woman in those
days, could prove herself as brave as a man, and
freely risk her life for those she loved.
Four months later the heavy tidings reached
them that the old count was killed and Gaston
taken prisoner. Great was the lamentation among
the old men, women, and children left behind; but
they had little time for sorrow, for a band of the
marauding Vendeans burned the chateau, and laid
waste the Abbey.
"Now, Mother, I must up and away to find
and rescue Gaston. I promised, and if he lives, it
shall be done. Let me go; you are safe now, and
there is no rest for me till I know how he fares,"
said Yvonne, when the raid was over, and the
frightened peasants ventured to return from the
neighboring forests, whither they had hastily fled
for protection.
"Go, my girl, and bring me news of our young
lord. May you lead him safely home again to
rule over us," answered Dame Gillian, devoted
still,-for her husband was reported dead with

his master, yet she let her daughter go without a
murmur, feeling that no sacrifice was too great.
So Yvonne set out, taking with her Gaston's pet
dove and the little sum of money carefully hoarded
for her marriage portion. The pretty winged
creature, frightened by the destruction of its home,
had flown to her for refuge, and she had cher-
ished it for its master's sake, Now, when it would
not leave her, but came circling around her head
a league away from Dinan, she accepted the good
omen, and made the bird the companion of her
perilous journey.
There is no room to tell all the dangers, dis-
appointments and fatigues endured before she
found Gaston; but after being often misled by
false rumors, she at last discovered that he was a
prisoner in Fort Penthievre. His own reckless cour-
age had brought him there, for in one of the many
skirmishes in which he had taken part, he ventured
too far away from his men, and was captured after
fighting desperately to cut his way out. Now, alone
in his cell, he raged like a caged eagle, feeling that
there was no hope of escape; for the fort stood on
a plateau of precipitous rock washed on two sides
by the sea. He had heard of the massacre of the
royalist emigrants who landed there, and tried to
prepare himself for a like fate, hoping to die as
bravely as young Sombreuil, who was shot with
twenty others on what was afterward named the
" Champ des Martyrs."* His last words, when
ordered by the executioner to kneel, were, I do
it; but one knee I bend for my God, the other for
my king."
Day after day Gaston looked down from his narrow
window, past which the gulls flew screaming, and
watched the fishers at their work, the women
gathering sea-weed on the shore, and the white
sails flitting across the bay of Quiberon. Bitterly
did he regret the willfulness which brought him
there, well knowing that if he had obeyed orders he
would now be free to find his father's body and
avenge his death.
Oh, for one day of liberty, one hope of escape,
one friend to cheer this dreadful solitude !" he
cried, when weeks had passed and he seemed
utterly forgotten.
As he spoke, he shook the heavy bars with im-
potent strength, then bent his head as if to hide
even from himself the few hot tears wrung from
him by captivity and despair.
Standing so, with eyes too dim for seeing, some-
thing brushed against his hair, and a bird lit on
the narrow ledge. He thought it was a gull, and
paid no heed; but in a moment a soft coo startled
him, and looking up, he saw a white dove struggling
to get in.
Blanchette! he cried, and the pretty creature

* The Field of Martyrs.

SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES

flew to his hand, pecking at his lips in the old ca-
ressing way he knew so well.
My faithful bird, God bless thee exclaimed
the poor lad, holding the dove close against his
cheek to hide the trembling of his lip, so touched,
so glad was he to find in his dreary prison even a
dumb friend and comforter.
But Blanchette had her part to play, and pres-
ently fluttered back to the window ledge, cooing
loudly as she pecked at something underneath
her wing.
Then Gaston remembered how he used to send
messages to Yvonne by this carrier-dove, and with
a thrill of joy looked for the token, hardly daring
to hope that any would be found. Yes there,
tied carefully among the white feathers, was a tiny
roll of paper, with these words rudely written on it:
Be ready; help will come. Y."
"The brave girl! the loyal heart! I might have
known she would keep her promise, and come
to save me," and Gaston dropped on his knees in
gratitude.
Blanchette meantime tripped about the cell on
her little rosy feet, ate a few crumbs of the hard
bread, dipped her beak in the jug of water, dressed
her feathers daintily, then flew to the bars and
called him. He had nothing to send back by this
sure messenger but a lock of hair, and this he tied
with the same thread, in place of the note. Then
kissing the bird he bade it go, watching the
silver wings flash in the sunshine as it flew away,
carrying joy with it and leaving hope behind.
After that the little courier came often unper-
ceived, carrying letters to and fro; for Yvonne sent
bits of paper and Gaston wrote his answers with
his blood and a quill from Blanchette's wing. He
thus learned how Yvonne was living in a fisher's
hut on the beach, and working for his rescue as
well as she dared. Every day she might be seen
gathering sea-weed on the rocks or twirling her
distaff at the door of the dilapidated hut, not as a
young girl, but as an old woman; for she had stained
her fair skin, put on ragged clothes, and hidden
her fresh face under the pent-house cap worn by
the women of Quiberon. Her neighbors thought
her a poor soul left desolate by the war, and let
her live unmolested. So she worked on secretly
and steadily, playing.her part well and biding her
time till the long hempen rope was made, the sharp
file procured unsuspected, and a boat ready to re-
ceive the fugitives.
Her plan was perilously simple, but the only
one possible; for Gaston was well guarded, and
out of that lofty cell it seemed that no prisoner could
escape- without wings. A bird and a woman lent
him those wings, and his daring flight was a nine
days' wonder at the fort. Only a youth accustomed

to feats of agility and strength could have safely
made that dangerous escape along the face of the
cliff that rose straight up from the shore. But
Gaston was well trained, and the boyish pranks
that used to bring him into dire disgrace now helped
to save his life.
Thus, when the order came, written in the rude
hand he had taught Yvonnelong ago, Pull up the
thread which Blanchette will bring at midnight.
Watch for a light in the bay. Then come down, and
St. Barbe protect you," he was ready; for the little
file, brought by the bird, had secretly done its work,
and several bars were loose. He knew that the at-
tempt might cost him his life, but was willing to gain
liberty even at that price; for imprisonment seemed
worse than death to his impatient spirit. The jail-
or went his last round, the great bell struck the
appointed hour, and Gaston stood at the window,
straining his eyes to catch the first ray of the
promised light, when the soft whir of wings glad-
dened his ear, and Blanchette arrived, looking
scared and wet and weary, for rain fell, the wind
blew fitfully, and the poor bird was unused to such
wild work as this. But obedient to its training,
it flew to its master; and no angel could have
been more welcome than the storm-beaten little
creature as it nestled in his bosom, while he un-
tangled the lengths of strong fine thread wound
about one of its feet.
He knew what to do, and tying on the file to one
end, as a weight, he let it down, praying that no
cruel gust would break or blow it away. In a mo-
ment a quick jerk at the thread bade him pull
again. A cord came up, and when that was firmly
secured, a second jerk was the signal for the last
and most important haul. Up came the stout
rope, knotted here and there to add safety and
strength to the hands and feet that were to climb
down that frail ladder, unless some cruel fate
dashed the poor boy dead upon the rocks below.
The rope was made fast to an iron staple inside,
the bars were torn away, and Gaston crept through
the narrow opening to perch on the ledge without,
while Blanchette flew down to tell Yvonne he was
coming.
The moment the distant spark appeared, he
bestirred himself, set his teeth, and boldly began
the dangerous descent. Rain blinded him, the
wind beat him against the rock, bruising hands and
knees, and the way seemed endless, as he climbed
slowly down, clinging with the clutch of a drown-
ing man, and blessing Yvonne for the knots that
kept him from slipping when the gusts blew him
to and fro. More than once he thought it was all
over; but the good rope held fast, and strength
and courage nerved heart and limbs. One greater
than St. Barbe upheld him, and he dropped at

[JUNE,

SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.

last, breathless and bleeding, beside the faithful
Yvonne.
There was no time for words, only a grasp of the
hand, a sigh of gratitude, and they were away to
the boat that tossed on the .wild water with a
single rower in his place.
It is our Hoel. I found him looking for you.
He is true as steel. In, in, and off, or you are
lost! whispered Yvonne, flinging a cloak about
Gaston, thrusting a purse, a sword, and a flask
into his hand, and holding the boat while he
leaped in.
"But you ?" he cried; "I can not leave you
in peril, after all you have dared and done for
me."
"No one suspects me; I am safe; go to my
mother, she will hide you, and I will follow soon."
Waiting for no further speech, she pushed the
boat off, and watched it vanish in the darkness,
then went away to give thanks, and rest after her
long work and excitement.
Gaston reached home safely, and Dame Gillian
concealed him in the ruins of the Abbey, till
anxiety for Yvonne drove him out to seek and
rescue in his turn. For she did not come, and
when a returning soldier brought word that she had
been arrested in her flight, and sent to Nantes,
Gaston could not rest, but disguising himself as
a peasant, went to find her, accompanied by faith-
ful Hoel, who loved Yvonne, and would gladly
die for her and his young master. Their hearts
sunk when they discovered that she was in the
Boufflay, an old fortress, once a royal residence,
and now a prison, crowded with unfortunate and
innocent creatures, arrested on the slightest pre-
texts, and guillotined or drowned by the infamous
Carrier. Hundreds of men and women were there,
suffering terribly, and among them was Yvonne,
brave still, but with no hope of escape, for few
were saved, and then only by some lucky accident.
Like a sister of mercy she went among the poor
souls crowded together in the great halls, hungry,
cold, sick, and despairing, and they clung to her
as if she were some strong, sweet saint who could
deliver them or teach them how to die.
After some weeks of this terrible life, her name
was called one morning, on the list for that day's
execution, and she rose to join the sad procession
setting forth. /
"Which is it to be ? she asked, as she passed
one of the men who guarded them, a rough fellow,
whose face was half hidden by a shaggy beard.
"You will be drowned; we have no time to
waste on women," was the brutal answer; but as
the words passed his lips, a slip of paper was
pressed into her hand, and these words breathed
into her ear by a familiar voice : I am here !"

It was Gaston, in the midst of enemies, bent on
saving her at the risk of his life, remembering all
he owed her, and the motto of his race. The
shock of this discovery nearly betrayed them both,
and turned her so white that the woman next her
put an arm about her, saying sweetly:
Courage, my sister; it is soon over."
I fear nothing now cried Yvonne, and went
on to take her place in the cart, looking so serene and
happy that those about her thought her already fit
for heaven.
No need to repeat the dreadful history of the
Noyades; it is enough to say that in the confusion
of the moment Yvonne found opportunity to read
and destroy the little paper, which said briefly :
"When you are flung into the river, call my
name and float. I shall be near."
She understood, and being placed with a crowd
of wretched women on the old vessel which lay in
the river Loire, she employed every moment in
loosening the rope that tied her hands, and keep-
ing her eye on the tall, bearded man who moved
about seeming to do his .work, while his blood
boiled with suppressed wrath, and his heart ached
with unavailing pity. It was dusk before the end
came for Yvonne, and she was all unnerved by the
sad sights she had been forced to see; but when
rude hands seized her, she made ready for the
plunge, sure that Gaston would "be near." He
was, for in the darkness and uproar, he could leap
after her unseen, and while she floated, he cut the
rope, then swam down the river with her hand up-
on his shoulder till they dared to land. Both were
nearly spent with the excitement and exertion of
that dreadful hour; but Hoel waited for them
on the shore and helped Gaston carry poor
Yvonne into a deserted house, where they gave
her fire, food, dry garments, and the gladdest wel-
come one human creature ever gave to another.
Being a robust peasant, the girl came safely
through hardships that would have killed or crazed
a frailer creature; and she was soon able to rejoice
with the brave fellows over this escape, so auda-
ciously planned and so boldly carried out. They
dared stay but a few hours, and before dawn were
hastening through the least frequented ways to-
ward home, finding safety in the distracted state
of the country, which made fugitives no unusual
sight and refugees plentiful. One more advent-
ure, and that a happy one, completed their joy,
and turned their flight into a triumphant march.
Pausing in the depths of the 'great forest of
Hunaudaye to rest, the two young men went to
find food, leaving Yvonne to tend the fire and
make ready to cook the venison they hoped to
bring. It was night-fall, and another day would see
them in Dinan, they hoped; but the lads had con-

SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.

sented to pause for the girl's sake, for she was worn
out with their rapid flight. They were talking of
their adventures in high spirits, when Gaston laid
his hand on Hoel's mouth and pointed to a green
slope before them. An early moon gave light
enough to show them a dark form moving quickly
into the coppice, and something like the antlers of
a stag showed above the tall brakes before they
vanished. Slip around and drive him this way.
I never miss my aim, and we will sup royally to-
night," whispered Gaston, glad to use the' arms
with which they had provided themselves.
Hoel slipped away, and presently a rustle in the
wood betrayed the cautious approach of the deer.
But he was off before a shot could be fired, and
the disappointed hunters followed long and far,
resolved not to go back empty-handed. They
had to give it up, however, and were partially
consoled by a rabbit, which Hoel flung over his
shoulder, while Gaston, forgetting caution, began
to sing an old song the women of Brittany love
so well:
"Quand vous etiez captif, Bertrand, fils de Bretagne,
Tous les fuseaux tournament aussi dans la champagne "
He got no further, for the stanza was finished by
a voice that had often joined in the ballad, when
Dame Gillian sang it to the children, as she spun:
"Chaque femme apporte son 6cheveau de lin;
Ce fut votre rangon, Messire du Guesclin."
Both paused, thinking that some spirit of the
wood mocked them; but a loud laugh and a familiar
" Holo holo made Hoel cry, The forester! "
while Gaston dashed headlong into the thicket
whence the sound came, there to find the jolly
forester, indeed, with a slain deer by his side,
waiting to receive them with open arms.
"I taught you to stalk the deer and spear the
boar, not to hunt your fellow-creatures, my lord.

But I forgive you, for it was well done, and I had
a hard run to escape," he said, still laughing.
"But how came you here?" cried both the
youths, in great excitement; for the good man was
supposed to be dead with his old master.
"A long tale, for which I have a short and
happy answer. Come home to supper with me,
and I '11 show you a sight that will gladden hearts
and eyes," he answered, shouldering his load and
leading the way to a deserted hermitage, which
had served many a fugitive for a shelter. As
they went, Gaston poured out his story, and told
how Yvonne was waiting for them in the wood.
"Brave lads! and here is your reward," an-
swered the forester, pushing open the door and
pointing to the figure of a man with a pale face and
bandaged head lying asleep beside the fire.
It was the count, sorely wounded, but alive,
thanks to his devoted follower, who had saved him
when the fight was over; and after weeks of con-
cealment, suffering, and anxiety, had brought him
so far toward home.
No need to tell of the happy meeting that night,
nor of the glad return; for, though the chateau was
in ruins and lives were still in danger, they all were
together, and the trials they had passed through only
made the ties of love and loyalty between high and
low more true and tender. Good Dame Gillian
housed them all, and nursed her master back to
health. Yvonne and Hoel had a gay wedding in
the course of time, and Gaston went to the wars
again. A new chateau rose on the ruins of the
old, and when the young lord took possession, he
replaced the banner that was lost with one of fair
linen, spun and woven by the two women who had
been so faithful to him and his, but added a white
dove above the clasped hands and golden legend,
never so true as now,
"En tout chemin loyaute."

[JUNE,

884.) JUNE.

JUNE.

BY CAROLINE A. MASON.

APPLE-blossoms in the orchard,
Singing birds on every tree;
Grass a-growing in the meadows
Just as green as green can be;

Violets in shady places,-
Sweetest flowers were ever seen !--
Hosts of starry dandelions,-
"Drops of gold among the green!"

Pale arbutus, fairy wind-flowers,
Innocents in smiling flocks;

Coolest ferns within the hollows,
Columbines among the rocks;

Dripping streams, delicious mosses,
Tassels on the maple-trees;
Drowsy insects, humming, humming;
Golden butterflies, and bees;

Daffodils in garden borders,
Fiery tulips dashed with dew;
Crocus-flowers; and, through the greenness,
Snow-drops looking out at you !

TWO BOYS OF MIGGLESVILLE.

TWO BOYS OF MIGGLESVILLE.

BY W. W. FINK.

PART I.
HOW TOMMY STARTED THE LIBRARY.
NONSENSE, Tommy Start a public library
in Migglesville ? Books cost money, my boy, and
people in this town don't spend money that way.
They would n't subscribe ten dollars."
Mr. Glen was evidently out of patience with
Migglesville; but seeing the look of disappointment
on his son's face, he said:
What books do you want? "
I would rather not tell," said Tommy, with a
firm expression on his pinched, white face; for he
was a cripple, and his face showed the marks of
suffering and ill-health. You are not able to
buy books for me, but I think I can start a public
library."
"Well, well," said Mr. Glen, good-naturedly,
"try it if you like, but don't be disappointed if
you fail; for remember, we are living in Miggles-
ville now." And he went away, feeling that he
would hear no more of the library.
Migglesville was a small town, and, what was
worse for Tommy's undertaking, it was well-nigh
a dead town. It was discouraged. The county-
seat had gone to Kitesboro', six miles away. The
railroad, if one ever came to the county, would be
sure to go to Kitesboro'. There was talk of a
seminary at Kitesboro', and they already had
graded schools there. Migglesville had nothing
but old houses and bad luck. Yet it was here that
Tommy Glen planned to start a public library.
"How many books would be a library?" he
said to himself as he balanced his crutch across
his knee.
Then he turned to his dictionary and read,
Library, n. 1. A collection of books."
"It doesn't say a hundred nor a thousand,"
said he, "but a collection."
So he turned to the word collection, and read,
"Collec'tion, ?n. 2. Thatwhichlis gathered ordrawn together."
Suddenly he felt that he must scream; he had
such a happy idea! He threw on his hat, took
his crutch, and started off to see Willie Groome.
He knew that Willie's constant desire was to read
Gordon's South Africa," that he thought of it by
day and dreamed of lion-hunting by night. Willie
was at work in his father's garden.
Heigho, Tommy," he said, as the latter ap-
proached.

Say, Will," said Tommy, with nervous direct-
ness, "what book would you rather read than any
other book in the world ? "
Gordon's South Africa,'" answered Willie,
excitedly.
Then why don't you buy it ? asked Tommy.
Father says it would be foolish for me to spend
all my money on one book, and that only about
lions and tigers and things."
Well, would n't he let you buy it if some more of
us would buy a book apiece and exchange with you?"
"Why, that would be a kind of a circulating
library, Tommy," exclaimed Willie.
Of course it would."
"But, Tommy, everybody 'd want to borrow
our books, and we would n't have half a chance."
We would n't let 'em," said Tommy, em-
phatically. Nobody can get a book out of this
library without putting one in."
Just then Willie's father came toward them.
"Glad to see you out, Tommy," he said pleas-
antly. Willie, you can stop work and play with
Tommy."
I did n't come to play, Mr. Groome; I came
on business," answered the lame boy.
"On business! Whew! What kind of business ?"
Then Tommy explained his plan so clearly and
enthusiastically that Mr. Groome said:
Yes; Willie can buy the book. He has money
enough of his own, and if by buying one book he
can get several more to read, I should say that
would be doing very well."
"And wont you let him get it right away?"
said Tommy, eagerly. I am going to buy mine,
but it wont be so showy as Tommy's, for his has
pictures, and--"
"Oh, I see," said Mr. Groome, laughingly,
"you want it, so that the other fellows can see
what they will miss if they don't join in ? "
Tommy confessed that such was his idea, and,
with a hearty laugh at his "generalship," Mr.
Groome left the boys with the promise that Willie
could go to Kitesboro the next day and buy the
book.
The next day Willie came bounding into Tom-
my's room with Gordon's South Africa."
In a minute the two boys were poring over its
pages.
"Oh, look! Is n't that glorious!" exclaimed
Willie, as they turned to the picture of a lion-hunt.
Tommy was about to reply when, looking

[JUNE,

TWO BOYS OF MIGGLESVILLE.

597

through the window, he saw Harry Lane and Si
Milford across the street.
Just the boys I wanted to see. Please call
them, Will."
"Yes; but they '11 be for looking all over the
book, and we wont have half a chance," said Willie.
That's just what I want," answered Tommy.
" Don't you see the point ?"
Willie called them, but much against his own
inclinations.
"What's up?" said Harry, as they entered the

L 'l
., ' -

buy another book, and then we exchange."

first, after you 'e read it, wont you?"
"+ i

buy anot unless you buy a book, and putthen we '11 exchange."
"lSay, boys, said Si, "lend this book to me
first, after you 've read it, wont you ? "
"Not unless you buy a book, and put into the
library with ours," said Tommy.

The library / said Si, questioningly.
"Yes. We 're a Library Association, and any
one can join it by putting in one good book."
Oh, fiddle said Si. I don't buy books to
give away. Not much! "
All right," said Tommy, with a great show of
indifference.
"Yes; but I should say it would be very mean
not to lend a fellow a book after you 'd read it,"
persisted Si.
"And I should say it would be very mean to

I '1

MIGGLESVILLE LIBRARY.
want some one to buy books for you when you
were not willing to return the compliment," said
Harry Lane, with some warmth. "I '11 buy a
book to get into this arrangement. Let 's see.
Fifteen or twenty fellows would be fifteen or twenty
books that we could all read by buying one apiece.
Tommy, what are you going to buy?" "
Now Prescott's Conquest of Mexico" was the

~

1884.]1

TWO BOYS OF MIGGLESVILLE.

great desire of Tommy's heart, and he had talked
so much about it with Harry and Si that he knew
they were as anxious to read it as he was.
So he said : I will buy one volume of Prescott'
if you will buy another."
I '11 buy one," said Harry. Si, you '11 buy
another, wont you ? "
"No, you don't," exclaimed Si.
Don't what ?" asked Harry.
I said I would n't go into this thing, and
I wont," said Si, with an injured air.
"Well, we don't wish to force you to buy a
book, Si," said Tommy, pleasantly.
Just then he called their attention to the picture
of a lion-hunt, and they all bent over him to see it.
Goodness !" he exclaimed, don't smother a
fellow!"
Then read something out loud," cried Si.
"All right. Sit down and I will."
They all ranged themselves before him, and he
began reading:

The hunters were now in the jungle, and they
could hear the lion's deep and terrible roar. Sud-
denly there was a crashing of tangled underbrush,
and the king of beasts sprang madly forward from
his lair. The natives scattered in terror, leaving the
intrepid white man to receive the charge alone; but
with.wonderful coolness he dropped upon one knee,
and bringinghis rifle to his face, took deliberate aim,
and pulled the trigger, but his gun missed fire "

By this time, Willie's stubby hair was standing
fiercely erect, in delightful horror. Harry's eyes
were nearly as large as sauce-dishes, while Si
was holding his breath, working the muscles of his
face and clenching his fists in utter disregard of his
personal appearance.
But just at this point, Tommy closed the book
on his finger, and said quietly: Come to think
of it, this is n't according to the rules."
"What is n't according to the rules? exclaimed
his listeners, almost fiercely.
Reading a library book to outsiders," replied
Tommy.
"Oh, go on !" cried Si.
Don't do it," said Harry. "Our rules wont
allow it, unless Si will agree to buy the other
volume of 'Prescott.' "
"Well, I 'll-I '11 do it, said Si. Read on."
Tommy read very gladly after this, until the
lion lay dead at the hunter's feet.
Then they fell to planning in good earnest. Si
was now as enthusiastic as any of them. He and
Tommy gave Harry their share of the money to
buy Prescott," and the next day found them all
together again with the cherished volumes before

them. They had a library and they decided to
call themselves the Migglesville Library Associa-
tion. Among other rules which they adopted were
the following:
Ist. Any one can become a life member by con-
tributing a book costing two dollars, a book costing
less than that only giving a membership for one year.
2d. Two or more persons may club together to
buy expensive books, so that membership need
not cost more than two dollars.
"3d. No book will be received which'is either
vulgar or silly, but (as Tommy put it) 'a book
can be as funny or adventuresome as it pleases.'"
Not many days passed before the neighbors be-
gan wondering why so many boys were going in
to see Tommy Glen. And it was also remarked
that boys who had never been known to work be-
fore were buzzing around like hornets, hunting
jobs, cutting wood, raking hay,-anything to earn
money. Was Migglesville waking up ? Had there
been a reformation,- or was there a circus coming?
The book-seller at Kitesboro' noticed a great
improvement in his trade; and, what was very
strange, nearly every one to whom he sold a book
was a Migglesville boy, or a Migglesville girl; for
the girls had taken the library fever, and were as
anxious to buy books as the boys.
Occasionally some one would be refractory,
wishing to borrow books without becoming a
member. But Tommy's rules and Tommy's tact
conquered this difficulty also.
The farmers' boys caught the spirit, and came to
the library from miles around.
Tommy's mother had entered heartily into the
work, and made everything agreeable in Tommy's
room for all who came. Mr. Glen was away on busi-
ness, and as yet knew nothing of his son's success.
When it was noised abroad that the boys had
started a library, there was general astonishment.
A library in Migglesville Some older people
slipped in to see what it meant, and found so
many interesting books that they were glad to buy
" a book apiece and join the Association.
When Mr. Glen returned to Migglesville, almost
the first question he asked was: Well, Tommy,
how about that library ?"
Most of our books are out," said Tommy, so
much excited that he could not stop to explain, at
the same time leading the way to his room.
Mr. Glen looked at the books and rubbed his
eyes to be sure that he was not dreaming.
"Here is our list," said Tommy.
Here is our list !'" repeated Mr. Glen in be-
wilderment. Then he ran his eyes down the
column. It contained a total of ninety-nine vol-
umes, and their cost footed up $150.00 !
"Who subscribed all this money ?" said he.

598

[JUNE,

TWO BOYS OF MIGGLESVILLE.

Nobody," answered Tommy.
Then, where on earth did these books come
from ?"
Tommy told the story of the library.
"If you had tried to raise a subscription, you
would have failed," said Mr. Glen. "Tommy,
you are a general! I am proud of you Your
library will do great things for Migglesville."
The next day, there was the regular meeting of
the Library Association; and just as Tommy had
finished reading his report, something happened
which made the library of much more importance
to Migglesville than any one could have believed,
although at the time it seemed of no consequence,
beyond the fact that it was very funny :
The door opened and a poorly clad, broad-
faced, stupid-looking boy of fifteen walked into the
room with a book under his arm.
This was Johnny Haven. Any one would have told
you that he was the dullest boy in town; not that he
was a fool. He seemed ordinarily bright when it
came to work or play, but he never knew his les-
sons at school. He was the laughing-stock of much
smaller boys; and some of the more cruel called
him to his face, the Migglesville Dunce."
No one had thought of asking him to join the
Library Association; but he had worked, earned
money, bought a book, and here he was.
"Hello, Johnny," whispered a boy beside him,
are you in this thing, too ?"
"No; but I'd like to be," replied Johnny.
Got a book ?"
Yes."
"Well, why don't you hand it in?"
"Is that the way to do ? "
"Yes; go right up." And as Johnny walked
forward, the boy turned and winked at some of his
fellows. There was a good deal of curiosity to
know what kind of book Johnny Haven had brought;
and when Tommy took it and read its title, "Ele-
ments of Geology," there was a burst of laughter,
in which even the gentlemen and ladies present
were forced to join. If his book had been a
Chinese grammar, it could not have astonished
them more.
But only one, Job Spencer, was mean enough
to say:
Well, Professor Haven, that book may do
for a wise man like you; but the rest of us are not
that far along. Guess you'd better take it home."
Few laughed at his heartless speech, however.
"What book did you put in?" demanded
Johnny.
"Robinson Crusoe."
"Well," said Johnny, "this geology is worth
forty Robinson Crusoes "
There was another laugh, but Dr. Brownlow

said quickly, "Johnny is right. If I had to take
my choice between any half-dozen books in this
excellent library, and a geology, I would take
the geology. I hope you will accept Johnny's
offer, and that others may contribute books on
kindred subjects. I intend doing so myself, fro-
vided you take Johnny in."
Of course Johnny was admitted, but there was
much merry-making at his expense. Even the
other books in the library seemed to laugh at his
geology; yet we will see how long their laughter
lasted.
PART II.

THE "MIGGLESVILLE DUNCE."

WE must go back a little from the time when
Johnny Haven set the boys and girls of Miggles-
ville to laughing by bringing a geology to the
library.
Poor Johnny was always at the foot of his class.
It was not a graded school, and not a very good
one of its kind; but it did manage to have an
examination at the close of the year.
Mr. Haven had been watching his son's lack of
progress with deepening mortification and sorrow;
but when examination day came, and Johnny
failed in everything, his chagrin was keen indeed.
"Johnny," he said, after it was all over and
they were at home, what is the matter? You
hardly answered a question, and yet you did not
seem to care."
Johnny seldom betrayed any emotion, but now
his lip quivered and his cheek flushed.
I do care he exclaimed; "but do you sup-
pose I am going to show it ? "
The words were like music in his parent's ears.
It was not indifference after all, but grit.
Father," he said, have n't I studied hard ?"
Yes, my boy, hard enough to have committed
all your books to memory."
I know a good deal more than they think I
do," said Johnny; "but when I come to recite I
get bothered; they laugh at me, and I forget it
all. I want to leave school "
Leave school! exclaimed Mr. Haven.
Yes, sir; and study at home."
Why not study at school? "
Because they make me study too many things
at once. I was n't made to study everything at once.
I 'd rather know one. thing well than forty things
a little. I don't want to go to that school any
more he continued, almost fiercely. "But if
you '11 let me study at home, I '11 show you that I
can learn a great deal of one thing while they are
learning a little of everything."
"Perhaps you are right, Johnny," said Mr.

TWO BOYS OF MIGGLESVILLE.

Haven. As a rule, it is better for boys and girls
to go to school and lay a broad foundation for an
education. Still, if you can't get on at school, you
can try studying at home. But what put this idea
into your head ?"
"I thought it out," said Johnny. And then
when Will Regan came home from college and
could n't pass an examination for teacher at Kites-
boro', and did n't know enough for county sur-
veyor, and could n't keep books or do anything
else, I thought it would have been much better
for him if he had known just one thing well."
Well, my boy, what do you wish to know
well? "
Geology."
Geology! Why?"
Because I know I should like it, and then I
was reading the other day that a practical geolo-
gist could make a good living."
But you will need to understand other things
before you can mastergeology," said Mr. Haven.
"Then I can learn them," said Johnny, his
eyes shining like stars.
So he had his father's consent to try his plan,
and the Migglesville school lost its dunce.
People said Mr. Haven was wise in taking
Johnny from school, for he could learn nothing.
They did not know that Johnny was studying harder
than any other boy in town.
Dr. Brownlow contributed a zoSlogy, a botany,
and an advanced work on geology to the library,
and induced others to contribute other scientific
books.
A year passed, and still the library grew.
Tommy Glen had his hands full, all the books he
could read, and the glorious consciousness that he
was doing good in Migglesville.
The thought sent the blood flying through his
veins, and as it rushed along, it began picking up
and throwing away little particles of unhealthy
muscle and bone, leaving in their stead larger and
healthier particles.
The library was also at work in the sluggish
body of Migglesville. The old town waked up,
rubbed its eyes, washed its face, combed its hair,
and felt better. Weeds suffered where they had
previously flourished; fences at which cows had
laughed now laughed at the cows. Then Miggles-
ville waked up a little more, and organized a
Lyceum; a little more, and graded schools were
introduced.
Few thought of Johnny Haven. Tommy Glen
noticed that he always drew some scientific work
from the library, and felt very sorry for the poor
boy who seemed so anxious to read hard books
which he never could understand. A genuine
friendship grew up between them, but it sprung

from sympathy for each other's misfortunes. Still,
fearing to wound Johnny's feelings, Tommy never
tried to find out how much the former knew about
the books he was reading, and Johnny never told.
He spent a great deal of time roving up and
down the river, and over the hills, beating stones
to pieces and carrying them home-for playthings;
so it seemed to the people of Migglesville.
But he knew every ledge of rock along the river
for miles each way, and the little pieces he carried
home were specimens for his cabinet.
When he came to a difficult question, he took
hold of it like a bull-dog, and never let go until he
had mastered it.
He was not dull. He was one-ideaed, and one-
ideaed people have always been the moving spirits
of the world.. He found that a knowledge of bot-
any and zoology was essential to the understand-
ing of geology, and he attacked them.
The pictures of the fossil remains of mastodons,
mammoths, and other gigantic animals filled him
with wonder. His study became more enchanting
than the wildest romance.
One day word came to town that Mr. Martin,
whose farm adjoined Migglesville, had found .an
enormous tooth, a mammoth's tooth, as large as
a water-bucket."
People flocked to see it. Few had ever seen
anything of the kind, but all agreed it must be a
mammoth's tooth,- it was so large!
Just then some one began laughing.
"There comes the Migglesville dunce! Now
we'll find out all about it," said Job Spencer.
And Johnny came bounding from the town,
bareheaded, his- hair flying in the wind, and his
eyes shining like stars.
"Where is it?" he cried, bolting through the
crowd.
"Here it is, Professor. Wont you give us a
lecture on the mammoth?" sneered Job. The
secret of Job's hatred for Johnny was that, having
tried to abuse Johnny some time before, he had
received a sound flogging in return; and he now
only dared attack him with his tongue.
Johnny fell on his knees before the tooth, rolled
it over, ran his fingers nervously around it, and
then raised it so as to see its crown.
It is n't a mammoth's tooth at all! he cried.
"It's a mastodon's."
Oh Of course you know all about it at first
sight! sneered Job.
"Yes, sir; I do know. A mammoth's tooth is
nearly smooth, like an elephant's, for they were
nothing but big elephants; but a mastodon's tooth
is covered with pointed knobs, just like this, and
it is a mastodon's tooth."
Johnny is right said Dr. Brownlow with sud-

6oo

[JUNE,

TWO BOYS OF MIGGLESVILLE.

den energy. I had forgotten the distinction, but As time passed by, he earned money to buy
Johnny has not. This is the tooth of a mastodon." books; and after awhile he had the best scientific
"Well, it's all he does know," persisted Job. library in town.
"May be it is," said Johnny, quietly; then, turn- He was now nineteen, and was growing a little
ing to Mr. Martin, he asked eagerly, What will mustache. People said, It is a wonder how John-
you take for that tooth ?" ny Haven has improved in looks," and What a
Mr. Martin looked puzzled. What '11 you pity it is that he should be so dull! "
give ? he asked, by way of reply. He spent more time than ever on the hills and
"I'll work a month for it," said Johnny. along the river. True, he worked very hard when

THE ARRIVAL OF THE FIRST TRAIN AT MIGGLESVILLE.

Then there was another laugh. "Work a
month for an old tooth! "
"I reckon it.'s hardly worth all that," said Mr.
Martin. "Work a week, and you can have it."
All right," said Johnny. The crowd dispersed,
very much amused at the whole affair.
Yet no one had any idea that Johnny knew
much more than he had shown that day.
But in the room in his father's house to which
he carried his precious relic was a very complete
collection of the rocks and plants of the country for
miles around.
VOL. XI.-39.

his father needed him, or when he hired out to
some one else; but he was frequently absent on his
odd excursions for days together.
About this time, Migglesville surprised itself by
voting a tax to buy more books for the library,
making it free for all, and paying Tommy Glen a
salary as librarian.
A little later, Kitesboro' became excited. The
railroad was coming! It was still a hundred miles
away, but it was coming. The engineers had been
in the neighborhood, mapping out the line; and
Kitesboro' being the chief town within a section of

TWO BOYS OF MIGGLESVILLE.

fifty miles, they had planned to run the railroad
through-so the officers said-if-if Kitesboro'
would give the right of way, station-grounds, and
fifty thousand dollars !
Then Kitesboro' sat down and laughed. The
idea The railroad would come, anyway. Could n't
afford to miss Kitesboro'. Kitesboro' would n't give
a cent to induce the railroad to come.
Every one burned wood in all that country, for
there was plenty of it. No one thought of coal-
no one except Johnny Haven.
When he heard of the railroad, he thought of
coal for the engines and for shipping to the great
plains out West where the road was going.
"According to geology," said he to himself,
"there ought to be coal here."
He read his books again on the subject of the
coal formations, and then he disappeared from
Migglesville almost altogether. People saw him
leaving town early every morning with some
tools on his shoulder, but thought nothing of it.
Only his parents knew what he was doing.
The railroad engineers were at work twenty
miles east of Kitesboro', surveying lines in various
directions, to make the people of Kitesboro' think
they were going somewhere else.
One day, a young man with a little mustache
rode into their camp and began asking questions.
"Where do you get your coal? he said to one
of the officers of the road.
"At B-- three hundred miles east of this."
I can show you a fine vein of coal not far from
here," said the young man.
This brought the railroad men about him, and
the questions flew thick and fast from both sides.
He did not tell them where the coal was, ex-
cept that the railroad could easily reach it without
bridging the river. To reach Kitesboro', they would
have to build a very expensive bridge.
After a hurried consultation, some of the respon-
sible officers of the road were telegraphed and
soon appeared, accompanied by an experienced
mining engineer, and started with the young man
toward Migglesville.
When they reached that place, they went directly
to Mr. Haven's house.
Papers were drawn up and signed, in which it was
agreed that, if certain things were just so, they would
do so and so; after which they all rode down the
river to a tract of land which Mr. Haven had often
tried to sell, but could not, because it was so broken.
When they returned, more papers were signed;
after which the railroad men bought a large tract
of land in the edge of Migglesville, and a great
many corner lots, for none of which they paid
very much, since land, like everything else, was
cheap in the poor old town.

Then it was discovered that the railroad was
coming to Migglesville. Migglesville threw up
its hat and yelled for joy.
Kitesboro', hearing the shout, became fright-
ened, and raised the fifty thousand dollars, but
was told to keep it. It raised seventy-five thou-
sand, one hundred thousand, and sent a committee
over to Migglesville to see the officers of the road.
But their answer was: "We are coming to
Migglesville. We have coal here, and that is
worth more than forty Kitesboro's."
Coal? cried Migglesville.
Coal ?" cried Kitesboro'.
"Yes. Young Haven found it, and then he
found us."
Coal! Johnny Haven! John-nee Haven!
Well, a fool for luck "
But Migglesville said this under its breath.
Before the railroad men left town, however, the
mining engineer said to some of the citizens:
You ought to be proud of young Haven. He
knows more about geology than any one of his
age I ever saw. We are going to send him on
ahead to look up the coal matters for the com-
pany."
Then Migglesville waked up more than ever,
and it is safe to say that before midnight, when
the first people went to bed, the name of Johnny
Haven had been pronounced two thousand times.
Every one called him a genius. Within a week,
at least a dozen young men, who had been skim-
ming over all kinds of studies, bought geologies
and began to realize how little they knew.
A bank was started in Migglesville, and Mr.
Haven deposited ten thousand dollars, one-half in
Johnny's name. It was what he had received for
the land he had not been able to sell until Johnny
found coal on it.
"Ten thousand dollars! Johnny Haven!"
but no one said a fool for luck" any more.
Then the great day came, when the first train
steamed into town. A great many Kitesboro' men
were there, for Kitesboro' was moving over.
On the train, among leading railroad men, came
Johnny Haven, and when he stepped upon the
platform he received a cheer that nearly took away
his breath.
A banquet followed, and speeches and toasts.
But something was wrong. Whenever a speaker
said Migglesville," Migglesville hung its head.
It was ashamed of its name.
It did well enough so long as Migglesville was
old and sleepy and shabby, but for a live railroad
town, the center of what was to be a great coal
trade, it would never do.
And finally, it felt so badly about it that Dr.
Brownlow, mounting a platform, said:

[JUNE,

THE SPIDER AND THE TUNING-FORK.

"I propose that we take the necessary steps
toward changing the name of this town, and I
hope that we may name it after the two young
men who have done more than all others to make
it what it is, and what it promises to b2s:
First, after Thomas Glen, who had the courage
and genius to start a public library [applause];
second, after John Haven, who, by his untiring
energy and splendid abilities, made himself mas-
ter, first of one and then of many things, and, by

the light of that science he so dearly loves, guided
the railroad to this town."
Then Migglesville threw up its hat and jumped
after it, and the sound of many voices was heard
by the lonely watchers at Kitesboro'.
And now, when Mr. John Haven, in charge of
the U. S. Geological Survey in the Rocky Mount-
ains, writes to his proud and happy parents, he
does not address his letter to Migglesville, but to
Glen Haven.

THE SPIDER AND THE TUNING-FORK.

BY JOHN R. CORYELL.

THE snake-charmer uses music to subdue the
poisonous cobra; but that is not so very startling,
for even if the snake be a horrid creature, there is
something in its gliding grace which makes its

liking for the sweet notes of the flute seem almost
harmonious. As for the bird, the very thought
of the dainty creature brings music to the mind.
Then, again, stories which tell of dogs, horses,
rabbits, or mice, even, appreciating and enjoying
music do not seem at all incredible. But when it
comes to saying that spiders like music,-Well, I
do say that.
A great many years ago, a prisoner of state,
who was allowed to cheer the solitude of his dun-
geon by playing on his flute, discovered after a
while that, every time he played, a great number
of spiders gathered about him. When he ceased
playing, his audience immediately scampered back
to their webs. Since that time, the liking of
spiders for music has often been tested and proved.
I myself would have been glad to play for a spider
audience, but, to own the sad truth, I am not well
enough acquainted with any musical instrument
to coax a tune out of it. I did try several times
to charm spiders by whistling to them; but either
it is true, as my friends say, that I do not know
how to whistle, or spiders do not care for that sort
of music.
Perhaps I would have given up trying to satisfy
myself of the liking of spiders for music, had not
a scientific gentleman of Europe given me a valu-
able hint by an experiment of his own. He used
a tuning-fork. Now I can play a tuning-fork as
well as anybody. It is only necessary to hold the
fork by the handle and rap one of the prongs
against something hard.
I procured a tuning-fork, and then sought out
a spider to experiment on. I found a handsome,
brand-new web, and though I did not see Mistress

_ __

6-

THE BROWNIES' VOYAGE.

Epeira, I knew she must be at home. Efeira
diadema is her full name, though most persons
call her a garden spider. It is she who makes
those beautiful, wheel-like webs which festoon the
rose-bushes and trees.
As I have said, Madame Spider was not visible.
I knew, however, she must be in her gossamer
parlor, which is attached to her web, and which
she uses for her own retiring-room. I am positive
that the story which tells of how she invited a fly
into her parlor is incorrect, for she keeps that
sacred to her own use.
Here was a good chance to try tuning-fork music.
I rapped the fork on a stone, and in a moment a
soft, melodious hum filled the air. I touched one
of the spokes of the web with the fork. On the
instant, Madame flew out of her parlor in great
haste, hesitated a moment at the outer edge of the
web, and then, instead of going straight to the
tuning-fork, ran to the very center of the web.
When there, she quickly caught hold of each of
the spokes one after the other, and gave it a little
tug, as a boy does his fishing-line to see if a fish is
hooked. Each was passed by until she came to
the spoke upon which the humming fork rested.
There she stopped, and it was easy to see she was
excited. She gave the whole web a shake; then
tugged at the spoke again. Hum-m-m-m still
sang the fork, rather faintly now, however.

Madame was satisfied. Her mind was made
up. Down she darted and caught the end of the
fork in her.arms. She tried to bite into the hard
metal, and at the same time she spun a web of
silk around and around the two prongs, which by
this time had ceased vibrating.
I pulled the fork away, and Madame Epeira
retired in disappointment to the center of the web.
But if she was disappointed, so was I, for I was
satisfied that it was not the music of the fork that
had attracted her. Unfortunately, it was alto-
gether too probable that she mistook the hum of
the fork for the buzz .of a fly,-a sort of music no
doubt very sweet to her.
Time after time I repeated the experiment with
the fork, touching in turn each spoke of the web,
and each time Madame Spider was deluded into
trying to capture the tuning-fork. It was odd that
she did not learn wisdom by repeated disappoint-
ment. If she did not become wiser, however,
she certainly did become angrier at each failure
to take prisoner the humming intruder into her
home.
If I had known how to play the flute instead of
the tuning-fork, I might have learned more about
the musical tastes of spiders; but as it is, I am
willing to believe what others say, that spiders do
like music, and to admit that I made my experi-
ment with the wrong instrument.

THE BROWNIES' VOYAGE.

BY PALMER COX.

ONE time, a restless Brownie band
Resolved to leave the Scottish strand,
And visit Orkney Island green,
That in the distance might be seen,
When seas were calm and fogs withdrew,
A speck above the ocean blue.

In answer to a summons wide,
The Brownies came from every side-
From hills that overlook the sea,
And from the braes of Doon and Dee;
A novel spectacle they made,
All mustered in the forest shade:
With working implements they came,
Of every fashion, use, and name-
For turn his hand a Brownie can
To all the handicrafts of man.

Soon, one who seemed to be a chief
Addressed the band in language brief:

"From lofty peaks how oft have we
Surveyed those islands in the sea,
And longed for means to thither sail
And ramble over hill and vale!
That pleasure rare we may command,
Without the aid of human hand.
So, Brownies young and Brownies old,
Prepare yourselves for action bold.
A heavy task before you lies,
That well might weaker folk surprise;
For ere the faintest streak of gray
Has advertised the coming day,
A sturdy craft, both tough and tall,
With masts and halyards, shrouds and all,

- I -----II~--

[JUNE,

THE BROWNIES VOYAGE.

With sails to spread, and helm to guide,
Completed from the ways shall glide.
No second night may Brownies plan
To finish what the first began.

'T was hammer, hammer, here and there,
And rip and racket everywhere,
As each good Brownie did his best,
Nor gave himself a moment's rest,

And every skillful stroke that fell
Without exception counted well.
While some were spiking planks and beams,
The calkers stuffed the yawning seams,
And poured the resin left
S and right,
To make her stanch and
,,' -water-tight.
A crowd were busy bring-
Sing nails,
*. And bolts of canvas for
Sthe sails,
And coils of rope of every
size
To make the ratlines,
shrouds, and guys.
i It mattered little whence
it came,
Or who a loss of stock
might claim;
Supply kept even with
Demand,
Convenient to the rigger's
hand.

'T was marvelous to see how fast
The vessel was together cast;
Now here a touch, and there a blow,
And tier on tier it seemed to grow,

:rgjj y~ -. .
J'h

i_L

605

1884.1

THE BROWNIES' VOYAGE.

Until, with all its rigs and stays,
It sat prepared to leave the ways.
It but remained to name. it now,
And break a bottle on her bow,
To knock the wedges. from the side,
And from.the keel,. and let it slide.

And when. it rode upon the sea,
The Brownies thronged the. deck with glee,
And veering 'round in proper style,
They bore away for Orkney Isle.

But those who will the ocean brave
Should be prepared for wind and wave;
For storms will rise, as many know,
When least we look for squall or blow.
And soon the sky was overcast,
And waves were running high and fast;
Then some were sick and some were filled
With fears that all their ardor chilled;
And some retired the decks between,
And took no interest in the scene.

But, as when dangers do assail
The human kind, though some may quail,
There will be found a few to face
The danger, and redeem the race;
So, some brave Brownies nobly stood
And manned the ship as best they could;

Some staid on deck to sound for bars;
Some went aloft to watch for stars;
And some around the rudder hung,
And here and there -the vessel swung,
While others, strung on yard and mast,
Kept shifting sails to suit the'blast.

Now, with the keel almost in sight,
It listed left and listed right;
At times, the stem was high in air,
And next the stern was lifted there.
So thus it tumbled, tossed, and rolled,
And shipped enough to fill the hold,
Till more than once it seemed as though
To feed the fish they all must go.

606

[JUNE,

THE BROWNIES' VOYAGE.

But still they bravely tacked and veered,
And hauled, and reefed, and onward steered;
While screaming birds around them wheeled,
As though they thought their doom was sealed;
And hungry gar and hopeful shark
In shoals pursued the creaking bark,

Still wondering how it braved a gale
That might have made Columbus pale.

The rugged island, near them now,
Was looming on their starboard bow;
But knowing not the proper way
Of entering its sheltered bay, /
They simply kept their canvas spread,
And steered the vessel straight ahead.
The birds seemed winded in the race,
The gar and shark gave up the chase,
And turning back, forsook the keel,
And lost their chances of a meal.

For now the ship to ruin flew,
As though it felt its work was through,
And soon it stranded, pitch and toss,
Upon the rocks, a total loss.
The masts and spars went by the board-
The hull was shivered like a gourd!

But now, on broken plank and rail,
On splintered spars and bits of sail
That strewed for miles the rugged strand,
The Brownies safely reached the land.

Now, Brownies lack the power, 't is said,
Of duplicating aught they've made;
When once a task is all complete,
No more may they the work repeat.
So all their efforts were in vain
To build and launch a ship again;-
And on that island, roaming 'round,
That Brownie band may still be found.

607

FLOWER FANCIES,

A SOCIETY OF DECORATIVE ART.

FLOWER FANCIES.

BY HELEN GRAY CONE.

I. DANDELIONS.

UPON a showery niight and still,
Without a sound of warning,
A trooper band surprised the hill,
And held it in the morning.
We were not waked by bugle-notes,
No cheer our dreams invaded;
And yet, at dawn, their yellow coats
On the green slopes paraded.

We careless folk the deed forgot;
Till one day, idly walking,
We marked upon the self-same spot
A crowd of veterans talking.
They shook their trembling heads and gray
With pride and noiseless laughter;
When, well-a-day! they blew away,
And ne'er were heard of, after!

II. RAGGED SAILORS.

O RAGGED, ragged Sailors!
I pray you answer me:
What may you all be doing
So far away from sea ?

" We 're loitering by the road-sides,
We're lingering on the hills,

To talk with pretty Daisies
SIn stiff and snowy frills.

" And though our blue be ragged,
Right welcome still are we
To tell the nodding lasses
Long tales about the sea!"

608

[JUNE,

609

GUSTAVUS KEAN'S SPELLING.

GUSTAVUS KEAN'S SPELLING.

BY J. C. MONTAGUE.

GUSTAVUS KEAN is my cousin; but that is not
the reason I am writing about him. Perish the
thought! I have no foolish pride in my rela-
tives, and I relate his experiences onlyin the hope
that they may afford warning and encouragement
to other boys.
The one blight upon Gustavus Kean's young
life was the shadow cast by his spelling-book. To
an unprejudiced mind this book was very much
like any other spelling-book, but to his agonized
eye it seemed exactly five miles square, and there
were days when its shadow blotted every ray of
sunlight from his saddened existence. Do not
jump to the hasty conclusion that Gustavus could
not spell. Bless the boy! For pure brilliancy,
copiousness and ease in spelling, for downright
creativeness, I have never met (and I hope I never
may meet) his equal. But the trouble was that
these finished productions of his differed radically
and entirely from the standards of good spelling
as set forth in the dictionaries. Gustavus thought
this little fact a trifle unworthy of his notice. He
did not quarrel with those who spelled differently
from him, but he pitied those narrow minds who
could see beauty in only one set form. He had a
broad, catholic mind, himself; he eschewed all
help from spelling-books and dictionaries, and he
was by all odds the very worst speller, for a boy
thirteen years old, in all America.
At last, matters came to a crisis. He wrote a
letter to his rich uncle in Boston, which so far
exceeded any of his earlier productions that his
uncle groaned and turned pale as he read it. The
next day came a letter to Mrs. Kean. In it was
the following paragraph:
"Gustavus's spelling is simply dreadful. It is
atrocious. Something must be done for him, at
once. If he can not be brought to look differently
upon this matter, he must change his name, and
I will start him on a ranch in Texas. I can not
face a frowning world with the consciousness that
one who passes as my nephew is densely ignorant
of the very rudiments of his mother-tongue!'
Naturally, this troubled Mrs. Kean very much,
and when Gustavus came home late that after-
noon, radiant at having beaten every boy on the
block in repeated velocipede-races, and blissfully
ignorant of the cruel fate in store for him, she
showed him his uncle's letter, and expressed her
regret at this state of things. Gustavus assumed
a pensive and gently regretful attitude, and his

expression plainly said, If Uncle Tom were not
such a kind man in other matters, I could find it
in my heart to scorn him for his narrow-minded-
ness in this particular." His father talked to him
long and seriously; his mother grew pathetic, and
worked upon his finer feelings to such an extent
that he was on the verge of tears. But just at this
moment his elder sister unfortunately remarked
that a bad speller was a positive disgrace to a
family, which so restored his moral tone, and
roused the slumbering pride within him, that he
gathered his almost shattered forces together,
delivered an oration of great length and fire,
hurled defiance at all makers of dictionaries, and
finally left the room with much pomp and dignity.
Nevertheless, the next morning he carried to
school a note from his mother, which implored his
teacher to give the most rigorous and unceasing
attention to his spelling, in future; and from that
hour Gustavus Kean was a blighted boy. Column
after column of words did he learn by heart one
day, only to entirely forget them in less than
twenty-four hours. Sheet after sheet of paper did he
cover with dictation exercises; letter after letter did
he write to imaginary relatives from imaginary rest-
ing-places in Europe. And all to no purpose. Gus-
tavus and the covers of his spelling-book grew limp
together, and he had exactly seventy-six mistakes
in his last exercise. Almost every day he was
" kept in at school during the pleasantest hours
of the afternoon, and the haunts of his former play-
grounds knew him no more. Another boy won
the championship of the velocipede-races ; and one
day, when the boys were having a snow-ball fight,
Charlie Aiken broke a pane of glass in one of old
Mr. Blanchard's windows, and Gustavus-oh,
bitter thought!- was not there to see the scrim-
mage which followed.
Matters went on in this way for quite awhile,
the heart of Gustavus growing daily more heavy
within him, and his frequent wish being that his
existence had never entered into the plan of Provi-
dence. At last, a very little thing caused an explo-
sion. His teacher pleasantly informed him that
"clam" was not spelled "clamb." Here Gustavus
felt himself touched at a tender point. He had been
fond of clam-soup all his life, and he had always
spelled the word "clamb." He could notbring him-
self to believe that he was wrong. There was a
strange error somewhere, but assuredly he was not
the person at fault -it must be the teacher He

GUSTAVUS KEAN'S SPELLING.

argued the point well and brilliantly; but, like
Pharaoh of old, the teacher's mind seemed Hard-
ened, and she would not be convinced. The
argument soon grew more heated, a stormy scene
followed, and I should not like to tell you how
many times he was obliged, that afternoon, to
write the word clam on the blackboard -without
the final "b."
Bitterness had now eaten into the very soul of
Gustavus. He went home late that afternoon,
bristling with defiance, and breathing fire and fury
against all mankind. His further proceedings were
wrapped in mystery; he avoided his parents and
sister, and the gloom and ceremony with which
he bade the cook good-night, as she met him
coming out of the store-room, would have made
the fortune of any tragic actor. As his parents were
occupied with visitors, he was enabled to carry out
his own designs unmolested, and to his great satis-
faction. Later than usual he went to bed; a few
last preparations were made, the light was put
out, and quiet settled down upon the little hall
bedroom on the third story.
Mrs. Kean looked in on her son and heir, as
was her custom, before going to her own room
for the night. She lighted the gas, and there lay
the young Gustavus curled into a ball of rosy com-
fort, sleeping the sleep of the just, and dreaming
as-placidly of the new goat and cart he hoped to
have in the spring, as if he were not the projector
of dark and deadly schemes for the morrow. Mrs.
Kean gazed at him with pride and affection; for,
'strange as it may appear to outsiders, mothers do
seem to be fond of their boys, even if they are bad
spellers.
SBut why did she suddenly look surprised and
startled ?
There, carefully spread on a chair, lay Gustavus's
Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes in formidable array,
and on the floor, at the foot of his bed, stood an
:immense, covered peach-basket-a veteran that
had seen much service, and the stability of the han-
dle of which could not be counted upon. And what
a medley of things in the basket !- A pair of stout
trousers, and a blue flantiel-shrt .. ah red- lacings,
and a large red neck-tie,-Gustavus always had
a fine eye for color,-a red polo-cap, a small
hatchet, some nails and cord, crackers, potted
meat, a small 'box of guava jelly, and a conspicu-
ous absence of under-clothes. This plainly indi-
cated a trip to Texas, and preparations for ranch-
life.
Next came an autograph album, an old opera-
glass of his sister's (with a cracked lens), a
paper of morning-glory seeds, and a Jew's-harp,-
and, at the very bottom of the basket, dirtier and
limper than ever, lay the despised spelling-book.

Plainly, Gustavus did not intend to neglect the arts
and sciences in his new life.
Naturally, Mrs. Kean was very much troubled
at this discovery, and I think she must have in-
dulged in a little cry, and so dimmed her eye-
sight, otherwise she would never have dropped the
opera-glass on the floor. Of course the noise
awoke Gustavus. For one blessed moment he
thought it must be Christmas-eve, and that his
mother was arranging his presents by his bedside,
according to her time-honored custom. But this
sweetly consoling thought was quickly dispelled by
his eye falling on the hatchet. He took in the
situation at once, and saw that, for the present, he
was the hero of a lost cause.
He rose to explain his position with dignity;
but when his mother, in a very soft and muffled
voice, exclaimed :
Oh, Gustavus How could you think of leav-
ing me ?" he was cut to the quick at the thought
of his base ingratitude, and, lifting up his voice,
he wept.
What a pathetic scene then followed I think
that I could wring your very heart-strings if I chose
to describe it; but I will spare you. I will merely
say that they had a good, comfortable crying-time
together; that Gustavus explained all his woes to
his mother, even to the recent clam-insult, and
vowed with ardor that nothing but the most un-
heard-of course of severity from his teacher, and
the blackest dejection on his own part, could have
induced him to look with favor upon the Texas
scheme.
His mother gave him the fullest sympathy,
but at the same time impressed upon him
the necessity of the stand which his teacher had
taken. Gustavus was in a wondrously meek and
impressionable state of mind,--the exertion of
packing that basket had been too much for his
nervous system,- and, for once in his life, he felt
that the arguments of the other side might deserve
some attention. A delicate suggestion that a little
less obstinacy and greater application to study
might appreciably soften the hardness of his lot,
was received with favor, and Gustavus went to
sleep for the second time that night, at peace
with all mankind, with his spelling-book under his
pillow, and a firm resolution lodged in his manly
breast to get up early the next morning, and learn
all the easy words in the dictionary beginning with
"q," before breakfast-time.
Gustavus felt a little delicacy about meeting the
family the next morning; but, to his great relief,
no notice was taken of his adventurous schemes,
and joy and serenity reigned at the family board.
A fearful pang seized him at school when he
opened his lunch-basket and saw that identical box

6io

[JUNE,

DAISY TIME.

of guava jelly staring him in the face. For a mo-
ment it seemed as if he should be eaten up with
remorse; but the proud consciousness that he had
not missed one word in his spelling-lesson that day
revived his drooping spirits, and he quickly de-
cided that the jelly, and not he, should be the
victim, and that remorse must look out for itself.
That night, as he lay on the rug before the fire
in his sister's room, she ventured to say :
Why were you going to take your spelling-
book with you, Gustavus? I thought that was
just the sort of thing you were trying to get away
from."
Gustavus looked at her fixedly for a moment,
and then replied, with fine scorn:
That 's just like a girl! They always think
a fellow does n't care anything about his educa-
tion unless he grinds away at it all the time. Of
course, I always intended to learn how to spell,
sometime. "
After this cutting rebuke, there was silence for
a few minutes; then, with the courage of one
willing to die in the pursuit of knowledge, she
persisted in questioning him, further, about his
projected plans.
At first she was met with proud reserve; but
finally he melted, and told her that it was his
uncle's letter which had suggested the Texas plan.
It was his idea to work his way out West, and then
take possession of a ranch, and build himself a

log-hut. He was greatly surprised to hear that
a ranch was not a well-cultivated plot of ground,
inclosed by handsome iron railings and well
stocked with cattle, ready to be taken possession
of by the first boy who made his appearance from
the East. (His ideas were largely colored by recol-
lections of visits to the zoological gardens.)
A half-hour's talk with his sister gave him a
surprising amount of information. He saw, with
the keenest regret, that things are not what
they seem, and that under no circumstances
could he make the Texan trip in the simple, airy,
unencumbered way which he had intended to go.
Traveling with even a small trunk had no charms
for his Bohemian soul, and so the whole delightful
plan vanished into thin air, and nothing was left
him but a prosaic city life and a spelling-book.
But stop there was that goat and cart yet to live
for-the one dream of his young life And the
dream proved a reality, too; for Gustavus worked
diligently during the rest of the winter (that is,
most of the time, for there were days when his
studious spirit took a vacation, and his mischievous
genius and he sallied forth together, striking ter-
ror to the hearts of all who met them). But he
finally succeeded in sending such a correct and
elegant epistle to Boston, that, in the spring, his
uncle presented him with the coveted treasures.
The cart could hold four boys, and the goat
answered to the name of Texas.

DAISY TIME.

BY FLETA FORRESTER.

DAISY TIME has come again !
Daisies, sweet and bright,
Turn their round, white faces up
To meet and kiss the light.

Just as troops of children come,-
Come to gaze and stare,-
So the wistful daisy faces
Meet you everywhere!

Daisies play bo-peep with you
At every fence you pass;

Steal into your garden beds
And creep into your grass.

Daisies on the hill-side;
Daisies on the plain;
Throngs so close, one can but think
The snow is there again!

Strolling through the meadow,
Scattered by the brook;
Daisies, daisies everywhere!
Whichever way you look!

611

612THESCALETTANGER [JNE

CHAPTER IV.

HOW GASPAR BROKE HIS PROMISE.

J '4," Jv7 ;7 SAID, everything
S was going on fa-
T vorably. But it
could not be ex-
) pected that a boy
like Gaspar would
change the habits
ra of his life and his
whole mode of
thought in a day
or a week. He was
S impatient to see
the promised cer-
tificate, the idea of
which tickled his
,first boyish pride; and
h as he did not know
the reason why it
was delayed, he more than once had resolved to
break off his connection with the school-master
and go back to his wild associates.
His behavior to his parents was a little more
considerate than it had been; but it was still
perverse. The minister was a rather silent man,
and he had so long regarded his son with gloomy
dissatisfaction, that he could not easily take the
first steps toward a better understanding. Yet
his heart had softened toward him, and he, too,
Yvith the mother, hoped for good results from the
teacher's influence.
A little more than a week had passed. It was
Saturday afternoon, and Mr. Heth was absent
from home, when Gaspar took his gun and started
for the woods; there was a load in it, which he
wished to fire off. His sister Ella called after him.
"You are not going a-hunting, are you ? she
asked.

I am. What have you got to say about it ?" he
retorted haughtily.
She was a year and a half younger than he, but
old enough to see how wrong his conduct often
was, and to wish he would mend it.
"Now, Gaspar," she cried, "you know it is n't
right! Papa said you must be sure to trim those
borders, for to-morrow is Sunday."
"There '11 be time enough for the borders when
I get back," he scowlingly replied. So don't
fret, little school-ma'am."
"That's what you always say,' time enough.' You
put off your work to the last, and then it is never
done. You '11 not touch those borders to-day, I
know you '11 not," she cried, if you don't do them
now."
You '11 see I can't be gone long, for I've no
ammunition. I am not to be ordered around by
you, anyhow And Gaspar stalked off.
Don't say anything more to him," the mother
called to Ella. He will have his way."
I suppose so," said Ella; he always has had
it, and he always will have it. But it provokes.
me !" And she stood in the door-way, gazing after
him with sparkling dark eyes.
In the lane leading to the wood, Gaspar caught.
glimpses of a ragged fellow lurking behind some
bushes.
Hallo, Pete !" he cried. What are you hid-
ing there? Where did you get that melon? he
added, as Pete Cheevy, recognizing him, came out
from his ambush with a cantaloupe in his grimy
hands.
Found it rollin' up hill looking' fer an owner,"
said the grinning Pete. Sit down here, an' we '11
rip it open an' hev a jolly treat."
It was a temptation. But Gaspar had been
shunning the Cheevy urchin for a week, and he
was not to be drawn back to him now by the bribe-
of a melon which he knew must have been stolen..
No, thank you," he replied, walking on.

612

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

[JUNE,

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

Thought you tol' me las' Sat'day you wer' n't
go'n' ter shoot any more birds, now 't they talk
o' tight'nin' up the law on 'em," observed Pete.
I'm not," said Gaspar, thinking how Pete and
the other fellows would envy him when he had
his certificate. But I may pick up a blue jay;
there's no law about them."
I '11 go 'long with ye, 'f ye want me ter," Pete
proposed.
Gaspar reflected that the egg-hunting season
was over, and he needed no assistance in climbing
trees.
"Say, shell uh ? (Ragged urchin's phrase for
"shall I.")
Not with that melon," Gaspar replied signi-
ficantly.
"Never mind the melon! I '11 hide it till we
come 'long back." But as Gaspar walked on with-
out more words, Pete bawled after him: Seems
t' me somebody 's awful stiff all t' once! Go 'long
'th yer ol' gun! I don' wan' ter shoot it. An' ye
shan't hev any o' my mushmelon, neither."
He pulled out from the pocket of his tattered
trousers a knife with half a blade, and proceeded
to "rip it open," as he phrased it, under a
clump of bushes, where he regaled himself, devour-
ing greedily all the good part of the melon and
throwing away the rinds. Then' he rose up,
stretched himself, wiped his fingers on his trousers
and his face on his sleeve, and hardly knowing
what else to do for amusement that afternoon,
followed Gaspar up into the woods.
"Pleg' on the feller dunno' what's got inter
him! he muttered. He '11 come roun' mebby,
'f I ask him 'f he don't want any kingfisher's eggs;
he was pesterin' me fer 'em, las' month."
The woods were very still that afternoon, and
Gaspar went a long way without seeing or hearing
any but the commonest birds. Not a woodpecker
drummed, not a jay screamed. But at length,
when he was about a mile from home, in the most
ancient part of the forest, where still a few very
old trees grew along with those of a younger
generation, his quick ear detected a sound which
made him stop short and raise his gun.
It was something like a robin's song, and yet he
knew it was not a robin's. Two or three times
before, he had heard it in deep woods, and had
caught glimpses of the brilliant plumage of ,he
bird which uttered it. It came now from the
sun-spotted foliage high above his head, into which
he gazed eagerly, trembling with excitement, sure
that a prize which he had long sought in vain was
at last within his reach.
The song was repeated, and then something
like a winged flame darted among the branches;
only the wings were not flame-like. Black wings

and tail, and a body as red as fire,-O joy! It was
the one bird he most desired of all, so rare in all
that region : the Scarlet Tanager!
I can not say that Gaspar forgot his promise to
the master. But though his permit had not come,
he believed it ought to have come; and it's prob-
ably on the way now, if it's coming at all," he
reasoned, while he watched eagerly for a good shot.
"Anyhow, I 'm not going to let a male Scarlet
Tanager escape me, permit or no permit, law or
no law "
He saw a movement of the bright carmine breast
through a screen of leaves, drew a quick aim,
and fired.
The bird dropped from its perch, but seemed
to partially recover the use of its wings before it
had fallen far, and alighted, or rather lodged, in
the fork of one of the largest old trees in the
forest.
It was an oak, the main stem of which had, years
before, been broken off about twenty feet from the
ground. But from that point two living limbs
still grew, one very large, branching toward the
south, and a smaller one pushing out in the
opposite direction; both rising high among the
surrounding tree-tops.
It was in the hollow between these two limbs
that the bird had fallen, and well out of sight, as
Gaspar found by walking two or three times around
the tree.
"A rare bird like that-it is too bad to lose it! "
he said, gazing wistfully up at the spot. But of
course nobody can shin up a trunk like that. What
a fool I was, not to let Pete come with me! I
would make him help me bring a ladder; or he
might get on that smaller limb from the branches
of this little pine. Pete 's such an exasperating
fellow!" he exclaimed impatiently. "Why is n't
he here when he 's wanted ?"
Having no second charge for his gun, he laid it
on a mossy log, where he sat doivn to wait for the
bird to show itself again, and to consider what he
should do.

CHAPTER V.

PETE CHEEVY AND THE GUN.

At dusk that evening, the minister in his
dressing gown, with his black study-cap on his
head,-for he was bald,-was pacing to and fro
before his door, when Mr. Pike came in at the
gate.
Mr. Heth looked up quickly, with a perturbed
and lowering face, as if expecting somebody else,
and at sight of the school-master made an effort to
appear unconcerned and gracious.

613

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

After a few commonplace words of greeting had
been passed between them, Mr. Pike, declining an
invitation to enter the house, took an envelope
from his pocket, saying:
"I have called to see Gaspar; I have something
which I think will please him."
What is it? the minister demanded sharply.
"The permit I promised him," replied the
caller, wondering what new shadow of trouble
had come over the household, the permit from
the Natural History Society."
He don't deserve it! Mr Heth broke forth,
with strong feeling. "He is the most undutiful,
ungrateful boy I ever saw I wonder at myself for
expecting better things of him, after his behavior
in the past."
Surprised and pained, the master could only ask:
" Has anything new occurred, Mr. Heth ?"
"Nothing new," re-
plied the agitated father. :-
"It's the same old story. .
But it is all the more
exasperating just at this -
time, when we had hopes

was n't his guardian,- or in words to that effect.
He has not been home since."
He must return now very soon," observed the
school-master. It is too late to shoot anything."
"And it is too late to do his work," said the min-
ister. He may come now when he pleases. I could
almost say, in my wrath and grief, that I care little
whether he comes at all. But no, no In spite
of everything, I still have his good at heart. Come
in. His mother will be glad to see you. By your
interest in him, misplaced as it has been, you have
won something more than her esteem."
I can not think my interest has been mis-
placed," Mr. Pike replied, rallying from his first
discouragement. "I have great confidence that a
boy of his fine ability and love of nature will come
out all right. I think something has occurred to
detain him. I will go in and wait a little while."

S .r -

-were beginning to
have hopes,-after your
talks with him, and his
improved behavior, as if ,
he really ineant to do
better,- but I give him ,
up I give him up I 4, '
find I can place no re-

I can't bear to think t ig. I
he has driven you to that .
conclusion," said the
master, in tones of sym- I Ilk
pathy and distress.
"Where is he now?" w
That's what I don't
know. I have n't seen '
him since I left home r
at about two o'clock. I
gave him a light task to .-
do,- a very light task,
-but told him to be sure .
to do it; for I wished to
try him again and see if
there was any conscience
or obedience in the boy. "HOW ABOUT THAT GUN?' DEMANDED MR. CHEEVY." (SEE PAGE 617.)
He promised heartily;
but at about three o'clock he took his gun and He remained an hour,- two hours. It was
went off-no one knows where. His sister Ella half-past nine o'clock, and Gaspar had not re-
reminded him of his work; but he answered her turned. It was not an unusual thing for the boy to
in his usual way,- that he would be back in time be absent so late, although that had commonly
for it, that it was no affair of hers, and that she happened, heretofore, when he had gone out after

614

[JUNE,

THE SCARLET TANAGER

supper. He did not often get his supper away
from home, and the evening meal was something
that held an important place in his esteem. Mr.
Pike.could not wonder that Mrs. Heth was grow-
ing more and more anxious for her son's safety.
"Pete Cheevy, if anybody,
will be apt to know where he
is," she remarked, as the vis-
itor at last rose to go.
I think so," said he, "and
if there is a light in the house g
as I go up the street, I will
call and make inquiries."
The Cheevys lived in a lit-
tie old house under the brow
of a wooded hill that rose ab-
ruptly, with steep, half-hidden-
ledges, a few rods back from
the street. There was no light
visible as Mr. Pike approached
the place, and he concluded .
that the family had gone to
bed. But looking back, after
he had passed, he saw a glow
in an upper room under the
low gable, the window of which W' -
was open. PET
He hesitated a minute, un-
willing to disturb the family; but seeing a shadow
pass the window, and thinking the chamber might
be Pete's, he entered the yard and leaned against
a bank-wall under the cliff. The moon was just
rising; the rocks and overhanging woods were
picturesquely touched with light; but everything
was still, except for the sound of the master's own
movements and the shrill notes of the tree-crickets.
Again the shadow crossed the casement, and to
make sure that it was Pete in the room, the master
mounted the bank-wall; He was rewarded for the
effort by seeing our young acquaintance, by the
light of a not very brilliant lamp, performing some
queer antics with a gun; now petting it as if it
were some living creature, now taking aim at some
imaginary game, And again trying the lock as if he
found in its mechanism a wonderful fascination.
"One would think he had never seen a gun
before," the master said to himself, standing high
on the bank to get a better view. Peter! he
called, in a loud whisper. /
Peter did not hear; he was pulling up the
hammer for another imaginary shot. This time
his game seemed to be out of the window, toward
which he made a sudden dash, pointing the muzzle
in the direction of the school-master.
Peter called the latter, in a sharp, warning

shot, and in an instant boy and gun had dis-
appeared in the chamber. Mr. Pike waited in
silence, and in a little while saw a head cautiously
advance to the casement and peer out into the half-
moon-lit night.

E FINDS GASPAR'S GUN. (SEE PAGE 617.)

Peter! The head drew quickly back. "Peter
Cheevy Peter now came again to the window,
but without the gun.
Who be ye, 'n' wha' d' ye want? he said, in
a startled voice.
"I am Mr. Pike, and I want to know if you
have seen Gaspar Heth this afternoon ?"
"Me? How sh'd I see him? D'd you say
Gaspar Heth?"
"Yes, I did say Gaspar Heth," said the master.
" Where did you see him last?"
"Dunno. Have n't seen him lately-not much
-not very lately. Though I believe I did," Pete
continued, recovering from his embarrassment, and
assuming a tone of the utmost candor,-" now
I rec'lect, I did see him goin' up into the woods
to-day."
What time?"
"I dunno. Some time t'day. Guess this aft'-
noon. Yes, I 'm sure 't was this aft'noon. Why?"
Because he has n't come home, and his folks
are anxious about him."
"Be they? Sho! Guess Gap Heth can take
care o' himself; he gener'ly 'most alluz could.
He 's nobody's fool, Gap Heth !" observed Pete,
philosophically.
Did he have his gun with him?" the school-

voice. master inquired.
Pete stopped as if he himself had received a "I disremember; somehow I can't rec'lect 'bout

615

.~.-

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

the gun. Though 't seems t' me he did hev his
gun. Yes, I 'm pretty sure on 't, come t' think."
And you went a little way with him ?"
"Me? No, I jes' didn't! Ketch me! Gap
Heth 's snubbed me lately, 'n' I 'm not go'n' to
tag aft' him "
What has he snubbed you for ?"
"What fer? I don't know, 'n' I don't care !
Talks 'bout you 'n' some folks screwin' up the law
on bird-huntin'. That don't trouble me. Bird's-
eggin' time 's over, 'n' I don't shoot."
Don't shoot.?" cried the master. I imag-
ined you did, by the way I saw you handling your
gun just now."
Pete made no reply to this simple remark; and
if the light had been favorable for such a display,
he might have been seen to roll his eyes and open
his mouth with a ghostly attempt at a grin.
So you have n't seen him since this afternoon,
when he was going into the woods ?" urged the
master. You are very sure ? "
Oh, yis positive sure Pete exclaimed, as if
relieved to have the conversation come back to the
main topic. "Tell ye 'f I bed; course I would!
why should n't I ?"
Although suspicious that the boy knew some-
thing about Gaspar that he was unwilling to tell,
Mr. Pike did not press him further with questions;
nor did he think it necessary to go back and inform
the Heths of the ill success of his attempt to get
news of their son.

CHAPTER VI.

MASTER PETE EXPLAINS.

THE next morning, however, on his way to
church, the master turned in at the parsonage
gate. He felt sure the boy must be at home by
that time; but the first anxious face that met him
at the door told a different tale.
It was the face of the mother. "Have you
heard from him ? she tremulously inquired.
Not a word, except that the Cheevy boy saw
him going into the woods yesterday afternoon."
As he followed her into the entry, she said to
him, with quivering lips, Do you believe it
possible he has run away ? "
No, he could not believe that.
Or that he has met with some accident -with
his gun? "
Mr. Pike thought that more probable, but re-
frained from saying so.
I don't know what to think," he replied. "I
will walk up into the woods and see if I can find
any trace of him."
His father has already been to look for him,"

said Mrs. Heth. We had a terrible night; and
at daylight he set off, exploring the woods and
calling at neighbors' houses, where our poor boy
might have been seen. But Mr. Heth came home
all tired out. He is lying down now for a little
rest. How he is going to get through his sermon
this forenoon, I don't know. "
Although these words were spoken in a flutter-
ing voice, hardly above a whisper, they roused the
minister in his room above, and he called from the
door:
Is that Gaspar, or any news of him? "
"No; it is Mr. Pike; he is going into the
woods to look for Gaspar," replied Mrs. Heth.
It's no use," the minister replied. "Ibelieve
the boy has taken himself out of the way."
Nevertheless, Mr. Pike went to the woods, and
spent the time he had intended for church in
searching rocks and hollows for what he dreaded
to find.
Mrs. Heth remained at home, vainly hoping to
see her son come back. But the father, mastering
his agitation, and nerving himself for the perform-
ance of duty, stood that morning as usual in the
pulpit and bravely went through with prayer and
sermon,- a pathetic figure to those who knew
what grief and apprehension were at his heart.
In the meanwhile the school-master, having
spent an hour in unavailing search, bethought him
to find Pete Cheevy again, in order to get that
experienced youth to show him some of Gaspar's
favorite haunts.
Pete was not at home; but his father was, a
sort of enlarged edition of Pete himself,--slouch-
ing, tattered, unkempt,--who stared innocently
enough when told of Gaspar's disappearance.
I had n't heard a word on 't !" he said.
"I supposed everybody in town had heard of it
by this time. And I should think Pete would
have told you," remarked the school-master.
"Guess Pete don't know it," replied the elder
Cheevy, standing in his door-way, and fumbling
his unbuttoned vest.
Oh, yes, he does; for I stopped last night and
told him Gaspar had n't been heard from at half-
past nine o'clock."
"Half-pas' nine? What 're ye talking' 'bout?
My boy was a-bed and asleep 'fore that time."
I beg your pardon," said the master, I saw
him through the window, in his room, playing with
his gun."
"Ye 're gett'n' things mixed up now, fer cer-
t'n !" said the paternal Cheevy. "My boy has n't
any gun."
A sudden suspicion flashed across the master's
mind. He was silent for a moment. Then he said:
"I can't be mistaken about the gun; and I

616

[JUNE,

cE4.1 THE SCARLET TANAGER. 617

t -. .. Q
*'* *..- -. -- .-.--.
S' -
ii'. ',r-,....,,r k-,,' ~ i-

: : -l . ,., .
-N *- I :j :r

'. ,, .: l.: ., ;: " r:.. r,: .. -
.'''I tr i 1"!,[ ., i ,: 1 ,. : ,- t', .' i I. .tt '-1

log 'I the woods yest'.ay, an' I jes' brought t
hum to keep it fer him, 's sure as I live an'

o and look. I certainly saw it last night." "Be them the face's ?'" said the father. Don't
Can't be said the elder Cheevy. But I '11 you dare try to give me any-thin' else but the gen-
go 'n' look, an' if I find he 's keep'n' a gun ooine face's! No triflin' with me, you know."
L. XI-40.

f. 1. ... 7_ .

I.,! I, i I. I .r

.' 'I:- -." --.. 'q i ii'l i': I'

,,. ...

lug In the woods yest'day, an' i jes' brought it

hum to keep it fer him, 's sure as I live an'
think you will find it in his room now, if you will breathe this minute "
go and look. I certainly saw it last night." "Be them the fac's?" said the father. "Don't
"Can't be !" said the elder Cheevy. But I'11 you dare try to give me anything' else but the gen-
go 'n' look, an' if I find he's keep'n' a gun ooine fac's! No triflin' with me, you know."
VOL. XI.-_4o.

THE SCARLET 'TANAGER.

As the instrument seemed about to strike up a
vivacious air, Pete danced again, swinging around
the circle of which the radius was the paternal
arm. At last, when he seemed to be sufficiently
t. rr;ii:d to tell the truth, he was ordered to "stan'
-rii a:.' tell it." This was his statement:
"I saw Gap a-goin' up int' the woods with his
-un. -it' by 'n' by I follered him; but I could n't
get a sight on him, no way; I never saw him
once, an' I dunno where he went. But over by
Bingham's Swamp I came across his gun a-layin'
on a log; an' he was n't anywhere around an'
there was n't anybody in sight, an' I 'd never had a
gun, an' that seemed my only chance, an' I took it."
Hooked it, you mis'ble man's boy! exclaimed
old Pete.
"I did n't mean it fer hookin'; I found it! "
young Pete exclaimed.
"Wall, that 's another thing," said the father,
softening. Anybody 's li'ble to find things.
But why did n't you tell me ?"
"I did n't know 's ye 'd lemme keep it,"
whimpered the boy.
Now see what a scrape you 're getting' inter by
not tellin' said his father. "When School-
master Pike talked about your gun this morning I
told him, o' course, that you had n't any gun. -
Where is 't now? "
I got scared, an' hid it under some bushes
up int' the woods, fus' thing this morning Old
Pickerel scared me las' night."
Wall, you get it, an' kerry 't back to where
ye found it, lively I don't want any boy o' mine
hauled up fer finding' things that there 's go'n' to
be so much fuss about as there is 'bout this, now
Gap has got lost. Don't you see, if anything's
happened ter him, ye might be put in jail fer
murder ? S'pose he's found shot, an' his gun found
in your hands! Now you scamper an' git rid on't
in a hurry; an' mind, ye leave it jes' where you
found it. Now scud "

CHAPTER VII.

THE HOLLOW TREE.

OWING to the terrors of the situation, Pete had
told a tolerably straightforward story. He had
found the gun on a log, in the way he described.
It was the same mossy log upon which Gaspar had
sat down to wait for the scarlet tanager to show
itself again, and to consider what he should do.
As the bird did not show itself, and as he knew
nothing of Pete's following him into the woods, he
finally said to himself: "I guess what Pete can
do, I can do. I know he could shin up this pine
and get off on the oak, and I believe I can."

It was a slender pine, about eight inches
through, with a tendency to die at the top, which
top, by the way, had had the misfortune to be
thrust up into the branches of larger and taller
trees. One of these was the great oak with the
broken stem, at the summit of which, in the fork
of the trunk, the scarlet tanager had lodged.
Gaspar himself was a good climber, as well as a
resolute boy. He laid his gun across the log, hugged
the pine with knees and arms, and began to work
his way upward. He reached the branches without
difficulty, and scrambled, through them into the
scraggly top, above which the smaller limb of the
oak made a tremendous sweep, nearly twenty feet
from the broken trunk.
In passing the dead, or dying, twigs of the pine-
tops, he lost his cap, which lodged in them.
" Never mind," he said, I can get that on my
way back." He looked over at the fork of the
huge oak, but could not see his bird,- only the de-
cayed hollow into which it had fallen. To reach it, by
clasping the limb curved above him, and descend-
ing over that, in mid-air, was a feat which made
him hesitate. Then he said, "Here goes and
balancing himself in the pine-top, he stretched
up his arms until he could clasp them securely
over the oaken limb.
After his arms, up went his legs; and holding
fast to the branch with hands and feet, he began
to work his way down to the trunk, pausing to
look back at the pine, and assure himself that his
return that way would be safe.
Yes," he said, I can get back as easily as I
came." And he slipped daringly down the great
limb to the fork.
On reaching it, he found that the broken stem
contained, inside the ring of living wood and bark,
a rotten cavity, into which the bird must have dis-
appeared. The hole was large at the top, but it
narrowed below; and there, looking down, he saw
his bird clinging with half-spread wings to the de-
cayed lining of the trunk.
What a beauty !" he exclaimed; I must have
him, sure !"
He rested, with one arm about the limb he had
descended, and cautiously thrust the other down
into the hollow. With his utmost straining he
could not reach the prize with his hand. "Per-
haps," thought he, "I can reach him with my
foot."
SSo he got one leg into the cavity, and put it
carefully down, his object being to place his foot
beneath the bird, which seemed stupefied or ex-
hausted, and force it gently upward.
If he flies out," reasoned the boy, he will fall
to the ground, and I can catch him."
But instead of flying out, the tanager, roused by

,618

[JUNE,

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

the pressure of the foot, fluttered still further down,
and clung again to a projection of the decayed
lining.
I shall lose him that way," Gaspar exclaimed.
" I shall lose him anyway, unless I can reach him
with tmy hand. I wish I had a string or some-
thing to make a slip-noose "
The sight of the rich red body and velvety black
tail and wings inspired him with that enthusiastic
eagerness to possess the specimen which only a
naturalist can understand.
Then he ventured on a rash undertaking,
believing that he could let himself down into the
hollow beside the bird until it would be easy to
grasp it. This he did, forcing his toes into the
rotten wood if anything so far gone in decay can
be called wood--and keeping as firm a hold as
he could of the top of the opening.
When he thought he had gone far enough, he
held on by his feet and one upstretched hand, and
reached down with the other. There was the bird
still; but he had hardly touched it, when it
fluttered off again, and he made a sudden, fatal
movement to grasp its wing.
The hold of hand and feet on the decayed wood
gave way, and he slipped down into the narrow
part of the cavity.
There, by desperately spreading legs and arms,
and clutching his fingers into the soft lining, he
managed for awhile to support himself.
He looked up; his head was about three feet
from the top of the opening. It was impossible to
seize the rotten rim again. The space below was
large enough to let his body slide down, but too
small to allow him to use his legs and feet to any
advantage. And the punk-like substance into
which he thrust his fingers was too slight to
yield him much support.
He had been terrified by his first slip. And
now he began to realize the horror of his situation.
He could wedge his knees and elbows into the
cavity so that the slipping was arrested. But it
began again the moment he-tried to work his way
upward.
There seemed to be nothing he could do but
to hold himself in place and scream for help.
And scream he did, with what strength he had
left. But he soon perceived the futility of any such
efforts. His voice was projected upward into the
forest-tops and pitiless blue sky; it could not have
been heard far in any other direction.
It was a terrible moment to a boy so full of
life and hope but a little while before, but whom a
sudden and awful death now threatened.
His strength began to fail; he could not even
scream any more; he could only think. And all
the while he was slowly slipping, slipping.

He thought of his home, which he had often
threatened to leave in.hate and scorn, but which
appeared a paradise to him now.-If he were only
there again! It seemed far off and strange;
while his collections of birds and eggs, lately so
real and all-important to him, faded into a sicken-
ing dream.
Then he thought of his parents, whose kindness
he had so often repaid with ingratitude, and he
called out in his agony:
0 Father help me help help "
But his father was probably at that moment
riding quietly along the village street, thinking
perhaps of his perverse son, whom he had left at
home to do a trifling task which that son had
neglected, and now could never do.
He remembered the prayers his mother taught
him in childhood to repeat, but which he had
utterly neglected in his later reckless years. He
wished he could pray now, for perhaps the angels
might help him. But it seemed to him as if he
had never prayed; certainly his heart and soul
had never gone into a prayer as they did now into
the mere wish that he might pray.
All this time he felt himself slipping, slipping.
The tree was probably hollow to the root.
Death in that horrible depth seemed certain. And
who would ever think of looking for him there ?
After a long while, his absence would excite
alarm. The woods would be searched, and his
gun might be found on the log below there. But
would even that give his friends a clew to his fate ?
He remembered that, to an observer on the
ground, there was no visible sign that the tree had
an opening at the top; and who would dream of
his having climbed that enormous trunk?
"Oh, why did n't I let Pete come with me? "
he said despairingly, little suspecting that Pete was
even then prowling in the woods, listening to'hear
his gun.
Still, inch by inch, he knew that he was slipping,
slipping, slipping.
If he only had room to use his knees and feet!
If he could clutch with his fingers some solid sup-
port! The top of the cavity was so near why
could he not reach it?
"I must! I will!" he cried out, in a choked
and stifled voice, and nerved himself for a last
determined struggle.
It seemed for a minute that he was actually
making progress upward; and he quickened his
efforts with the energy of desperation. Then all
at once something seemed to give way with his
strength, and he had a sense of sliding rapidly,
his fingers tearing from their hold, his nails from
their sockets, and soul and body rushing down
into darkness.

(To be continued.)

619

620'

'K

K1

"THE FELLOWS AT

klI

". 27 '?
r '*^ ..

'" i :

SCHOOL CALL ME A GIRL 'CAUSE I WEAR DRESSES." (DRAWN FOR
"ST. NICHOLAS" BY A GIRL OF TEN.)

A VALENTINE.
BY PAUL HOFFMAN, aged eleven years.

I KNOW a little girl,
But I wont tell who.
Her hair is yellow gold,
Her eyes are pretty blue;
Her smile is ever sweet,
And her heart is very true.
Such a pretty little girl,-
But I wont tell who.

I see her every day,
But I wont tell where.
It may be in the lane
By the elm-tree there;

Or it -may be in the garden
By the roses fair.
Such a pretty little girl,-
But I wont tell where.

I '11 marry her some day,
But I wont tell when.
And I '11 be very rich,
And have millions then;
And she 'II have all she wants,
Which is more than I can ken.
Such a pretty little girl,-
But I wont tell when.

[JUNE,

A PAGE FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

A PAGE FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

1884.] MARGARET'S "FAVOR-BOOK." 621

MARGARET'S "FAVOR-BOOK."

BY SUSAN ANNA BROWN.

MARGARET DANA was one of the practical,
earnest girls who are always ready to try new
things, and ambitious to make the most of every
opportunity. She had one trial, and that was,
that her father would not let people call her
Maggie, or Marguerite, or Daisy, or Pearl, or
Madge, or anything but plain Margaret. That
had been his mother's name, and he said it was
good enough for her grand-daughter, without any
modern improvements. To be sure, most of the
girls in her class at school were Bessies, and Min-
nies, and Nellies, and Fannies; but in spite of the
affliction of having a name which did not end in
"ie," Margaret took life pleasantly enough. In
school, she studied sufficiently to keep her place in
the class, and outside, every moment was filled
with work or play.
It was a rule of the Dana household, however,
that the children should write at least a few lines
every day, in the form of a letter, or a diary, or a
composition. Copying did not count, or Margaret
would have finished her daily task without much
thought. Mrs. Dana had an idea that people
found many things burdensome only because they
were not accustomed to do them, and resolved
that her children should form the habit of express-
ing their thoughts on paper, hoping that it would
be as easy for them as talking when they grew
older. Margaret had a brother in college, and
three or four cousins, with whom she exchanged
letters occasionally, and her school compositions
came once in two weeks, so that she was seldom at
a loss for an object in her daily writing. Some-
times, when she read stories where the heroine
kept a journal in which to record her very senti-
mental ideas, Margaret was tempted to begin one;
but she never proceeded far, for she could not
think up any trials to philosophize over, and what
she was doing aad enjoying seemed unworthy of a
place in so dignified a volume. So that after she
had written a few pages, in which she had told
about their old-fashioned house, which she could
never make sound as interesting as the vaulted
halls and dim old libraries which the heroines
described, her journal was apt to languish, and,
after a few more entries, was usually put into the
fire. Once the family tried the experiment of a
general diary, which was to be written every night,
and was to record the doings of the whole house-
hold. But as Mr. and Mrs. Dana, and Grandma
Edwards, and Ned, and Kate, and cousin Fanny,

and even little John, all were expected to take their
turn at it, Margaret wrote in it only now and then.
And, besides, it was not half so interesting to write
in that great book in the sitting-room as it was to
scribble off something of her very own in the sacred
privacy of her own corner. This corner was a very
cozy sort of place. Kate and Margaret shared a
long, low room, which they took great pride in dec-
orating with every pretty thing which came in their
way. Sometimes they used to talk over the changes
they would make in it if they were rich: The
simple, light paper was to be exchanged for an
elegant dark tint with a wonderful frieze; the
somewhat dingy carpet was to give place to a
beautiful inlaid floor, adorned with oriental rugs
in soft colors; the air-tight stove was to be re-
placed by an open fire-place, where a cheerful
blaze was always to be glowing (they usually made
their plans in the cold weather). In fact, the furni-
ture was all to be of the most new-old-fashioned
kind, such as they saw now and then in the house
of some friend. To tell the truth, I am very doubt-
ful whether they would have liked the room one bit
better if some indulgent fairy had transformed it to
the splendid apartment of which they dreamed.
As it was, the two girls took much com-
fort in its friendly shabbiness. The two win-
dows looked west and south. At the western
one, Kate had a table where she used to sit
and write or paint, and when she was resting
she could look over the river at the low line
of blue hills, where the scene seemed the same,
and yet ever changing with the changing seasons,
like the expression of a familiar face. Often the
two girls sat there together and watched the sun
sink down behind those wooded slopes, and saw
the dark line of trees printed for a moment on his
flaming disk, and then standing out distinct and
clear on the background of red sky. Sometimes, in
the hot July afternoons, they leaned far out at the
window to catch the first breath of a summer
shower, which they could see coming up over the
hills, and watched the thick veil of drops draw
nearer and nearer, until the first noisy pattering
could be- heard on the roof above them. This
west window was Kate's corner, where she had
all her very special belongings. The southern
one was in the slope of the roof, and had little
side-lights, which made it almost like a bay-window.
In this little nook, Margaret had her low easy-chair,
and a sort of folding leaf which could be put up

MARGARET'S "FAVOR-BOOK."

when she wanted a table, or suffered to hang
down when she only wished to read or to look
out at the cool freshness of the elms. Directly
under the window-sill were two little shelves,
where she had a few favorite books and her writing
materials. This was her cozy corner, and the two
girls were very careful to leave each other's
possessions undisturbed, so that there might be
that sort of separateness which only makes com-
panionship more pleasant. Here they dreamed
their dreams, as girls will, and had long confiden-
tial talks together; for these two sisters appreciated
each other, and if they had friends who seemed at
first brighter and more entertaining, they never
forgot that close tie of sisterhood which was more
than any passing fancy.
One evening, the two sat together in their own
room. Kate was writing diligently on an essay
which was to be read on the last day of school, and
Margaret was biting the end of her pen and half-
closing her eyes, as she had a habit of doing
when she was thinking intently. At last she
burst out with, I think people who keep journals
in books are horrid "
"How else can you keep one?" inquired Kate,
without looking up from her work.
S"Oh, I don't mean that! said Margaret; I
mean that people in.books who keep journals are
horrid, because they write down such doleful things;
and she glanced at the story which she had just fin-
ished reading, which certainly was a rather depress-
ing account of the trials and afflictions of a self-scru-
tinizing young lady. Why can't they write down
the fun they have, and the kind things people do
for them, instead of always telling their troubles,
and making one feel dreadfully sorry for them ? "
Try it," said Kate, as she wrote the last word
in her essay, and then ran down-stairs to read it to
her father.
I declare, I believe I will," said Margaret
slowly to herself, after she had thought awhile.
" Something pleasant happens almost every day;
and if I write down at night what people have
done for me during the day, I shall not be always
forgetting to thank them for it, as I do now, and it
will be great fun to read it over some time."
Margaret was never one of the dilatory sort;
when she made up her mind to do anything, she
never waited until her enthusiasm had cooled. That
very night she sewed a few sheets of paper into a
little book, and made her first entry in this novel
kind of diary.
I have resolved to keep a Favor-Book," and
to write down in it all the kind and pleasant things
people do for me."
If it had not been for the rule -about writing
every day,, the "Favor-Book" might have been

neglected, as the rest of the winter went by; but
before the spring came, Margaret was herself
surprised to see how full it had grown.
One night, during the first week in March, she sat
in her favorite seat and turned over the pages and
read the simple record. It was only a list of the little
favors of every day, such as all receive, but Mar-
garet was glad to recall every one of them.

Jan. 4. My brother let me read the ST.
NICHOLAS first, because I wanted to. I must
remember to let him have it first, next time.
Jan. 5.' Alice Williams invited me to a party,
and I had a splendid time.
Jan. 7. Mother said I might go out skating
when the rest did, and she would wipe the dinner
dishes for me.
Jan. 8. I received a fine letter from brother
Ned, and he hates to write letters to us girls when
he has so much other writing to do.
Jan. 9. Cousin Fanny mended my dress for
me, because she thought I did n't know how to do
it in the best way.
Jan. io. Kate tried hard and found a capital
subject for me to write a composition about.
Jan. ii. Nellie Forbes waited for me to-day,
because I was not quite ready to go to walk when
the other girls went.
Jan. 12. Mother let me ask two of the girls
to tea.
Jan. 14. Because I was so busy, Fred went
down street on an errand which Mother had asked
me to do.
Jan. 15. Ellen lent me her new story-book.
Jan. 16. Alice came over and brought her
work, and taught me some of the stitches for
Kensington embroidery.
Jan. 17. Father took Kate and me to a concert.
Jan. 18. Mary came over and stayed with me,
because I had a cold. And it was splendid skat-
ing, too.
Jan. 19. Ellen came to ask how I was, on her
way to church.
Jan. 20. Cousin Fanny read to me quite a
while to-day. Fred sat down and played back-
gammon, because I had such a cold,-and he
don't like games very well, either.
Jan. 21. Father taught me how to playcheck-
ers, because he said staying in the house was dull
work for me. Mrs. Williams sent me some jelly.
Jan. 22. Mary came over again.
Jan. ,23. Kate made the bed in our room to-
day, although it is my week to keep it in order.
I must make it for her some time.
Jan. 24. My kitten climbed up in a tree, and I
could not get her to come down, she was so much
frightened. Henry Lund came along and said he

622

[JUNE,

MARGARET'S "FAVOR-BOOK."

would help me; so he went into the house and got
a broom, and put my sacque on it, and climbed
part way up and coaxed her to get on the sacque,
and then got her down.
Jan. 25. Grandma gave me a bottle of cologne
this morning. I mean to give half of it to Ellen,
for she likes it so much, and hardly ever has any.
Jan. 26. Mother helped me ever so much on
my Sunday-school lesson.
Jan. 27. I could not get any more worsted like
my cushion, and it was almost done. I felt very
much disappointed, because I wanted to finish it
for Mother's birthday. Agnes Willis heard me
talkirig about it at recess, and came all the way
over here after school, although it rained, and
brought her bag of worsted to see if she had n't
some that would match. I don't think I have ever
been over polite to Agnes, either. I have never
tried much to get acquainted with her.
Jan. 29. Mary is getting up a dialogue just
for fun, and she has asked me to take the very
nicest part in it.
Jan. 30. Mrs. Williams lent me a cape to
wear at our dialogue.
Feb. 3. The night of the dialogue, Mary's sis-
ter Julia helped us all she could. She fixed my
hair for me, and was very kind in many ways.
When I told Mother about it, she said, "That 's
the sort of older sister I want you to be to
Johnny and the baby."
Feb. 4. Grandma told me something which
she said would be a good motto for my "Favor-
Book." I told her about this book a good while
ago, and she said she "heartily favored the 'Favor-
Book' idea." The motto was something which a
very old lady said to her a long time ago. It was
this: Wherever I go, I learn something, either
to avoid or practice." Grandma said that every
favor I note down would be something for me to
practice. She gave all us children something to
do last Sunday, when there was such a dreadful
storm that no one could go to church. She made
us all find verses in the Bible about doing favors
to people. We found ever so many.
Feb. 5. I had a letter from cousin Sarah. I
did .not answer her last one very promptly, so it
was very good in her to write again so soon.
Feb. 6. Old Miss Stone called this afternoon,
and I am afraid I was not very glad to see her.
She asked Mother why I looked so sad, and Mother
told her that my cat was sick, and I felt worried.
Miss Stone said, I must send her some catnip,"
and before tea her girl came over and brought me

a box, and in it was a bunch of dry catnip, tied up
with a blue ribbon. And Pussy was almost well
the next day.
Feb. 7. Mrs. Williams sent for me to come
over and spend the day, and I had a happy time.
Feb. 8. Brother Ned came home and brought
a package of candy for us all, and a new book for
Kate and one for me.
Feb. Io. Mother went into the city to-day and
brought me home a new neck-tie and a box of
writing-paper. Johnny was very good all the time
she was gone, and helped me amuse the baby.
Feb. 11. Ned took me out sleigh-riding to-day.
The last sleigh-ride of the season, we think.
Feb. 13. Agnes helped me with my algebra.
She has such a nice way of helping; she does not
act as if you did not know anything.
Feb. 14. Aunt Mary helped me about my patch-
work and found me some new silk pieces.
Feb. 15. Iwas walking out tosee Agnes Willis,
and Ellen Stone overtook me and asked me to ride,
and then called at Agnes's house for me, an hour
later, and brought me home.
Feb. 18. Yesterday was my birthday, and I
had presents from Mother, Ned, and Kate, and
cousin Sarah sent me a birthday card. Mother
asked two of the girls here to tea.
Feb. 20. I went in to Mrs. Johnson's of an
errand this morning, and she went upstairs on
purpose to get a new book to lend to me.
Feb. 21. Kate let me use her paints this after-
noon.
Feb. 22. I was invited to a lovely party at
Ellen's, to celebrate Washington's birthday.
Feb. 24. Mrs. Forbes stopped me on the street
to ask how our baby was, and to say she was so
sorry to hear she had been sick.
Feb. 27. Miss Saunders found something very
interesting for me to read at our missionary meet-
ing, and I know she is very busy and does not
have much time to spare.

As she read the last entry and laid aside the
book, her mother came softly into the room and
sat down beside her.
You told me that your Favor-Book was full,
my dear," she said. I have bought you a new
one, that you may keep on remembering the kind-
nesses which you receive," and she laid down in
Margaret's lap a pretty volume in a red leather
binding, on which was stamped her name, and un-
derneath it the words,
Freely ye have received, freely give."

HOW WE FOOLED THE STORKS.

HOW WE FOOLED THE

STORKS.

BY OSCANYAN.

S.i- :l r .ll

S The Turks of Constantiople
forsake the city for two reasons: First,
for a change of air; and second, for a dairy diet,
of which they are very fond.
One season, Keahat-haneh-Keby, a cozy little
village in the valley of the Sweet-Waters, where
the Golden Horn begins, was chosen by our family,
for its rich pasture grounds and good milk.
We children were delighted with the place.
We had an abundance of pure milk and of fresh
eggs, and each of us had also a favorite hen which
was his special charge.
Our chief delight was to place ducks' eggs in one
of the hen's nests, and when the eggs were hatched
to see the mother astonished at the odd appear-
ance of her young.
Yet she was kind and attentive to them, and
raised them with care. But we children were most
amused when the ducklings grew old enough to
waddle and took to the water, setting the mother
hen in a fume. Oh, how she would fret and cackle,
and strut around the pond in real anger, scolding,
scratching the ground, trying by all means to get
them out before they were drowned !

, ._ _,.-
--

S--.

T h : used to delight us immensely. One morn-
In- hen we went out to attend our chickens and
.JuL:klings, we suddenly heard, above our heads, a
.:que.i! noise like the clanking of wooden spoons or
the raiding of many castanets.
\%V._ turned around to see what it was and where
ir ci :,v from. We soon discovered that it came
I!..nI- the top of the kitchen chimney, where two
,rmn:,ri se white birds, somewhat larger than geese,
'th ing legs, long necks, and long bills, were
standing and vigorously clacking their bills at
each other.
We ran into the house and informed our father
of our discovery, and asked him to come out and
see the birds.
He said he knew all about them. "They are
called storks," he said. They live in Africa,
though they may have been born here; for it is
their habit to spend their summers in northern
climates, where they raise their young, and return
home with them before winter. The ancient Egyp-
tians regarded these birds as sacred, and it was
considered a crime to hurt them, and in some places
they were even worshiped. When summer comes,
they leave their homes in a body, that is, a great
many of them together, and take a northerly direc-
tion. They must have arrived here last night.
They separate in pairs, and locate themselves in
different places, so you will soon see many others.
They choose the chimney-tops wherever they can,
because they are warm and they think them safer.*
They prefer to live in valleys, because they live on
frogs, reptiles, fish, and insects."
Thus enlightened, we went out again to have

* The chimneys in Turkey are built square, and their tops are covered, like school-house ventilators, with holes on the sides for the
smoke to escape.

624

(JUNE,

~~=--~-~-~-r~-~~
1

HOW WE FOOLED THE STORKS.

another look at them. We used to gaze and gaze
at them with wonderment, and our interest in
them increased day by day, as we watched their
movements.
They often stood together for hours rattling
their bills at each other, or demurely surveying
the grounds about them, often starting finally after
some object or prey which they had espied.
One day, after "playing the castanet" (as we
called it) for some time, they both suddenly darted
away, one diving to the ground as though it was
shot. Soon, it was seen ascending with a snake
dangling from its claws. It rose far up into the
air, and then suddenly dropped its prey. The
other bird, who was on the lookout for this, in-
stantly pounced upon the fallen victim (which had
been killed by the fall), and seized and carried the
dead snake to the nest on the chimney-top.
The storks' flight is very pretty. They throw

would let us approach them, but we were afraid to
go too near, for when they turned their heads
toward us to take a look, their long bills used to
frighten us very much. So we watched our op-
portunity to visit their nest during their absence.
One day when they were away, we got a ladder,
and raised it on the top of the small house which
served for the kitchen. There we rested it against
the chimney, and I ascended to the nest.
We found their bed, or nest, made of the coarsest
twigs and pieces of sticks. It contained four eggs,
about the size of goose-eggs, but they were of a
buff color, while goose-eggs are white.
When we came down, and as we were talking
about the nest, the idea struck me that it would be
very funny to experiment on the storks as we did
on the hens, and see what would be the result.
We laughed heartily over the plot, and determined
to take away their eggs and replace them with

"I REMOUNTED THE LADDER, AND CAREFULLY CHANGED THE EGGS."

their heads back, extend their legs, and with/out-
stretched wings soar very high. Their move-
ments, when on the ground in search of food, are
equally graceful and picturesque; they take long
and measured strides, and strut about in conscious
dignity and confident security. They rest sleep-
ing on one leg, with the neck folded and head
turned backward on the shoulder.
We had a great desire to see their nest. They

goose-eggs. "But they are not of the same
color!" said my brother.
It was evident that the birds would discover the
deception, and would not sit. My brother sug-
gested that we should paint the goose-eggs exactly
the color of the stork-eggs, with some water colors
we had, and then all would be right.
We prepared four fresh goose-eggs, and when
both the birds were away, I remounted the ladder

625

HOW WE FOOLED THE STORKS.

and carefully changed the eggs, and came down as
rapidly as I could, before the birds returned.
The poor creatures, not perceiving the decep-
tion, went on sitting on the new eggs; for we no-
ticed they took turns in their sittings- the male,
which was the larger of the two, sitting by day and
the female by night.
After four weeks' close watching, we knew, one
day, that the eggs were hatched; for there was a
great trouble in the stork family. Both the birds
were standing and clanking their bills at each other
as if they would talk each other down. At last, they
both flew away and soon returned with many
others of their tribe.
They all perched around the nest (or as many
as could do so), the rest hovering over it and waiting
for their turn to have a close look at the goslings.
After due inspection and careful examination, they
set up a clanking of bills that could be heard a great
way off. They clanked and rattled, rattled and

clanked, until their jaws got tired; then they sud-
denly ceased, and began pecking at something,
after which they all took to flight.
We were curious to know what had happened.
We made haste to ascend the ladder and find out
the state of affairs before the birds came back.
I was the first to explore, and I was both amazed and
grieved to find the mother stork lying dead on top
of the young goslings which had been hatched, and
which were also dead.
I came down the ladder to allow the others to
see the catastrophe, and all ascended by turns, and
came down with sorrowful faces.
We rushed into the house and informed our
father of what had happened. He, without saying
a word, ordered the servant to go up and remove
the dead birds. When they were brought down, we
children dug a grave and buried the poor things.
We learned many years afterward that no stork had
ever, after that day, perched upon that chimney.

~0!

"MY MA SAYS THAT WOMEN OUGHT TO VOTE."

626

(JUNE,

THE BASHFUL MARGUERITE.

ALICE WELLINGTON ROLLINS.

SWEET Marguerite looked shyly from the grass
Of country fields, and softly whispered: "Here
I make my home, content; for I,-alas!-
Am not the rose the city holds so dear."

Just then, the Queen, driving by chance that way,
Called to a page: "Bring me that Marguerite;
I am so tired of roses "- From that day,
The daisy had the whole world at her feet.

MAMMA'S MORAL.

RESTLESS ambition, eager, grasping greed,
Do not gain all things in this world of ours;
Shy merit, modest, unassuming worth,
Oft make the way for men, as well as flowers.
/

TOMMY'S APPLICATION.

I MUST say things seem rather "mixed" to me;
Please will you tell me, then, dear mother, why
You send me off to that big dancing-school
For fear that I should grow up shy?

627

1884.1

[JUNE,

FREDERIGK OF HOHENSTAUFEN: THE BOY
EMPEROR.
A. D. 1207-1212.
[Afterward Frederick the Second, Emperor of Germany.]
GLEAMING with light and beauty, from the wavy
sea-line where the blue Mediterranean rippled
against the grim fortress of Castellamare to the
dark background of olive groves and rising mount-
ain walls, Palermo, city of the Golden Shell,"
lay bathed in all the glory of an Italian afternoon.
It was a bright spring day in the year 1207.
Up the Cassaro, or street of the palace, and out
through the massive gate-way of that curious old
Sicilian city,- half Saracen, half Norman in its
looks and life,-a small company of horsemen
rode rapidly westward to where the square yellow
towers of La Zisa rose above its orange groves.
Now La Zisa was one of the royal pleasure houses,
a relic of the days when the swarthy Saracens
were lords of Sicily.
In the sun-lit gardens of La Zisa, a manly-looking
lad of thirteen, with curly golden hair and clear blue
eyes, stood beneath the citron trees that. bordered
a beautiful little lake. A hooded falcon perched
upon his wrist, and by his side stood his brown-
skinned attendant, Abderachman the Saracen.
But will it stay hooded, say'st thou ? the boy
inquired, as he listened with satisfaction to the

tinkling bells of the nodding /- / I
bird which Abderachman had
just taught him to hood. Canhe not shake itoff? "
"Never fear for that, little Mightiness," the
Saracen replied. He is as safely blinded as was
ever the eagle of Kairwan, the eyes of which the
Emir took for his crescent-tips, or even as art thou,
O el Aaziz, f by thy barons of Apulia."
The look of pleasure faded from the boy's face.
Thou say'st truly, O Abderachman," he said.
"What am I but a hooded falcon ? I, a King who
am no King! Would that thou and I could fly far
from this striving world, and in those great forests
over sea of which thou hast told me, could both
chase the lion like bold, free hunters of the hills."
Wait in patience, O el Aaziz; to each man
comes his day," said the philosophic Saracen.
But now there was heard a rustle of the citron
hedge, a clatter of hoofs rang on the shell-paved
road-way, and the armed band that we saw spurring
through Palermo's gates drew rein at the lake-side.
The leader, a burly German knight, who bore upon
his crest a great boar's head with jeweled eyes and
gleaming silver tusks, leaped from his horse and
strode up to the boy. His bow of obeisance was
scarcely more than a nod.
Your Highness must come with me," he said,
and that at once."
The boy looked at him in protest. "Nay,
Baron Kapparon,-am I never to be at my ease ?"
he asked. Let me, I pray thee, play out my

*Copyright, x883, by E. S. Brooks. All rights reserved.
t El Aaziz; an Arabic phrase for "the excellent" or "most noble one."

628

HISTORIC BOYS.*I

HISTORIC BOYS.

day here at La Zisa, even as thou did'st promise
me."
"Tush, boy; promise must yield to need," said
the Knight of the Crested Boar. "The galleys of
Diephold of Acerra even now ride in the Cala port,
and think'st thou I will yield thee to his guidance ?
Come At the palace wait decrees and grants which
thou must sign for me ere the Aloe-Stalk shall say
us nay."'
Must! cried the boy, as an angry flush cov-
ered his face; "who saith 'must' to the son of
Henry the Emperor? Who saith 'must' to the
grandson of Barbarossa? Stand off, churl of
Kapparon To me, Sicilians all! To me, sons of
the Prophet 1 ".and, breaking away from the grasp
of the burly knight, young Frederick of Hohen--
staufen dashed across the small stone bridge that
led to the marble pavilion in the little lake. But
only Abderachman the Saracen crossed to him.
The wrath of the Knight of Kapparon was more
dreaded than the commands of a little captive
king.
The burly baron laughed a mocking laugh.
" Well blown, sir Sirocco / "* he said, insolently,
"but, for all that, Your Mightiness, I fear me,
must come with me, churl though I be. Come,
we waste words and he moved toward the lad,
who stood at bay upon the little bridge.
Young Frederick slipped his falcon's leash.
" Cross at thy peril, Baron Kapparon he cried;
"one step more, and I unhood my falcon and send
him straight to thy disloyal eyes. Ware the bird!
His flight is certain, and his pounce is sharp "
The boy's fair face grew more defiant as he
spoke, and William of Kapparon, who knew the
young lad's skill at falconry, hesitated at the
threat.
But as boy and baron faced each other in de-
fiance, there was another stir of the citron hedge,
and another rush of hurrying hoofs. A second
armed band closed in upon the scene, and a
second knightly leader sprang to the ground. A
snow-white plume trailed over the new-comer's
crest, and on his three-cornered shield was
blazoned a solitary aloe-stalk, sturdy, tough, and
unyielding.
"Who threatens the King of Sicily ?" he de-
manded, as, sword in hand, he stepped upon the
little bridge. /
The German baron faced his new antagonist.
"So! is it thou, Count Diephold; is it thou,
Aloe of Acerra? he said. By what right dar'st
thou to question the Baron of Kapparon, guardian
of the King, and chief Captain of Sicily ?"
Guardian,' forsooth 'Chief Captain,' say'st
thou?" cried the Count of Acerra, angrily.
"Pig of Kapparon, robber and pirate, yield up

the boy! I, who was comrade of Henry the
Emperor, will stand guardian for his son. Ho,
Buds of the Aloe, strike for your master's weal "
There is a 'flash of steel as the two leaders cross
ready swords. There is a rush of thronging feet
as the followers of each prepare for fight. There
is a mingling of battle cries-" Ho, for the Crested
Boar of Kapparon !" Stand, for the Aloe of
Acerra! "- when for the third time the purple
citron-flowers sway and break, as a third band of
armed men spur to the lake-side. Through the
green of the foliage flashes the banner of Sicily,-
the golden eagle on the blood-red field,-and
the ringing voice of a third leader rises above the
din, Ho, Liegemen of the Church rescue for
the ward of the Pope! Rescue for the King of
Sicily "
The new-comer, Walter of Palear, the fighting
bishop of Catania" (as he was called) and Chan-
cellor of Sicily, reined in his horse between the op-
posing bands of the Boar and the Aloe. His richly
broidered cope, streaming back, showed his coat
of mail beneath, as, with lifted sword, he shouted:
Hold your hands, lords of Apulia stay spears
and stand aside. Yield up the King to me to
me, the Chancellor of the realm "
Off now, thou false Chancellor cried Count
Diephold. Think'st thou that the revenues of
Sicily are for.thy treasure-chest alone ? Ho, Boars
and Aloes both; down with this French fox, and
up with Sicily "
Seize the boy and hold him hostage shouted
William of Kapparon, and with extended arm he
strode toward poor little Frederick. With a sud-
den and nimble turn, the boy dodged the clutch
of the baron's mailed fist, and putting one hand
on the coping of the bridge, without a moment's
hesitation, he vaulted over into the lake. Abder-
achman the Saracen sprang after him.
"How now, thou pirate of Kapparon," broke
out Count Diephold; thou shalt pay dearly for
this, if the lad doth drown "
But Frederick was a good swimmer, and the
lake was not deep. The falcon on his wrist
fluttered and tugged at its jess, disturbed by this
unexpected bath; but the boy held his hand high
above his head and, supported by the Saracen,
soon reached the shore. Here the retainers of
the Chancellor crowded around him, and spring-
ing to the saddle of a ready war-horse, the lad
shouted, Ho, for Palermo, all which chief shall
first reach St. Agatha's gate with me, to him will
I yield myself!" and, wheeling his horse, he
dashed through the mingled bands and sped like
an arrow through the gardens of La Zisa.
The three contesting captains looked at one
another in surprise.

*The Sirocco is a fierce south-easterly wind of Sicily and the Mediterranean.

629

HISTORIC BOYS.

The quarry hath slipped," laughed Count
Diephold. "By St. Nicholas of Myra, though,
the lad is of the true Suabian eagle's brood. Try
we the test, my lords "
There was a sudden mounting of steeds, a
hurrying gallop after the flying king; but the
Chancellor's band, being already in the saddle, had
the advantage, and as young King Frederick and
Walter the Chancellor passed under St. Agatha's
pointed arch, the Knights of the Crested Boar
and of the Aloe-stalk saw in much disgust the
great gate close in their faces, and they were left
on the wrong side of Palermo's walls,-outwitted
by a boy.
But the baffled knights were not the men to give
up the chase so easily. Twenty Pisan galleys,
manned by Count Diephold's fighting-men, lay in
the Cala port of Palermo. That very night, they
stormed under the walls of Castellamare, routed
the Saracens of the royal guard, sent Walter the
Chancellor flying for his life toward Messina; and,
with young Frederick in his power, Diephold, the
usurping Count of Acerra, ruled Sicily in the
name of the poor little king.
In the royal palace at Palermo, grand and gor-
geous with columns and mosaics and gilded walls,
this boy of thirteen--Frederick of Hohenstaufen,
Emperor Elect of Germany, King of Sicily, and
"Lord of the World "- sat, the day after his capt-
ure by Count Diephold, sad, solitary, and forlorn.
The son of Henry the Sixth of Germany, the
most victorious but most cruel of the Hohenstaufen
emperors, and of Constance the Empress, daughter
of Roger, the great Normap King of Sicily, Fred-
erick had begun life on December the twenty-
sixth, 1194, as heir to two powerful kingdoms.
His birth had been the occasion of great rejoicings,
and vassal princes and courtier poets had hailed
him as "the Imperial Babe, the Glory of Italy,
the Heir of the Casars, the Reformer of the
World and the Empire !" When but two years
old, he had been proclaimed King of the Romans
and Emperor Elect of Germany, and, when but
three, he had, on the death of his, father, been
crowned King .of Sicily and Apulia, in the great
Cathedral of Palermo.
But in all those two sovereignties, no sadder'-
hearted nor lonelier lad could have been found than
this boy of thirteen, this solitary and friendless
orphan, this Frederick of Hohenstaufen, the Boy
Emperor. In Germany his uncle Philip of Suabia
and Otho of Brunswick disputed the imperial
crown. And beautiful Sicily, the land of his birth,
the land over which he was acknowledged as king,
was filled with war and blood. From the lemon
groves of Messina to the flowery slopes of Palermo,
noble and priest, Christian and Saracen, French

and German, strove for power and ravaged the
land with fire and sword. Deprived sometimes of
even the necessities of life, deserted by those who
should have stood loyal to him, often hungry and
always friendless, shielded from absolute want only
by the pity of the good burghers of Palmero, used
in turn by every faction and made the excuse
for every feud, this heir to so great power was
himself the most powerless of kings, the most
unhappy of boys. And now, as he sits in his gleam-
ing palace, uncertain where to turn for help, all
his sad young heart goes into an appealing letter
which has come down to us across the centuries,
and a portion of which is here given to complete
the dismal picture of this worried young monarch
of long ago:
"To all the Kings of the world and to all the
Princes of the universe, the innocent boy, King of
Sicily, called Frederick: Greeting in God's name !
Assemble yourselves, ye nations; draw nigh, ye
princes, and see if any sorrow be like unto my
sorrow My parents died ere I could know their
caresses, and I, a gentle lamb among wolves, fell
into slavish dependence upon men of various tribes
and tongues. My daily bread, my drink, my free-
dom, all are measured out to me in scanty pro-
portion. No king am I. I am ruled, instead of
ruling. I beg favors, instead of granting them.
Again and again I beseech you, O ye princes of
the earth, to aid me to withstand slaves, to set
free the son of Caesar, to raise up the crown of the
kingdom, and to gather together again the scat-
tered people "
But it is a long lane that has no turning, and
before many months came another change in the
kaleidoscope of this young king's fortunes. Pope
Innocent the Third had been named by the Em-
press Constance as guardian of her orphaned boy.
To him Walter the Chancellor appealed for aid.
Knights and galleys were soon in readiness. Pal-
ermo was stormed. Count Diephold was over-
thrown and imprisoned in the castle dungeon.
Kapparon and his Pisan allies and Saracen serfs
were driven out of Sicily, and the son of Caesar"
reigned as king once more. Then came a new
alliance. Helped on by the Pope; a Spanish friend-
ship ripened into a speedy marriage. Frederick
was declared of age when he reached his fourteenth
birthday, and a few months after, on the fifteenth of
August, 1209, amid great rejoicings which filled
Palermo with brilliancy and crowded the narrow
and crooked streets with a glittering throng, the
"Boy of Apulia," as he was called, was married to
the wise and beautiful Constance, the daughter of
Alfonso, King ofArragon. This alliance gave the
young husband the desired opportunity; for, with
five hundred, foreign knights at his back, he

630

[JUNE.

1884.] HISTORIC BOYS.

asserted his authority over his rebellious subjects
as King of Sicily. The poor little prince, whose
childhood had known only misfortune and unhap-
piness, became a prince indeed, and, boy though he
was, took so manly and determined a stand that,
ere the year was out, his authority was supreme
from the walls of Palermo to the straits of Messina.
Meantime, in Germany, affairs had been going
from bad to worse. Frederick's uncle, Philip of Sua-
bia, had been assassinated at Bamberg, and Otho of
Brunswick, head of the house of Guelf, crossed the
Alps, was crowned Emperor at Rome, and marched
into southern Italy, threatening the conquest of
his boy rival's Sicilian kingdom.
Again trouble threatened the youthful monarch.
Anxious faces looked seaward from the castle
towers; and, hopeless of withstanding any attack
from Otho's hardy and victorious troops, Frederick
made preparations for flight when once his gigan-
tic rival should thunder at Palermo's gates.
"Tidings, my lord King; tidings from the
North said Walter the Chancellor, entering the
King's apartment one bright November day in the
year 1211. "Here rides a galley from Gaeta in
the Cala port, and in it comes the Suabian Knight
Anselm von Justingen, with a brave and trusty
following. He beareth word to thee, my lord, from
Frankfort and from Rome."
How, then; has Otho some new design against
our crown?" said Frederick. "I pray thee,
good Chancellor, give the Knight of Suabia in-
stant audience."
And soon, through the gothic door-way of that
gorgeous palace of the old Norman and older Sara-
cen lords of Sicily, came the bluff German Knight
Anselm von Justingen, bringing into its perfumed
air some of the strength and resoluteness of his
sturdy Suabian breezes. With a deep salutation,
he greeted the royal boy.
"Hail, 0 King he said. I bring thee word
of note. Otho, the Guelf, whom men now call
Emperor, is speeding toward the North. Never
more need Sicily fear his grip. The throne which
he usurps is shaken and disturbed. The world
needs an emperor who can check disorders and
bring it life and strength. Whose hand may do
this so surely as thine-- the illustrious Lord Fred-
erick of the grand old Hohenstaufen line, the Elect
King of the Romans, the Lord of Sicily ? /
Frederick's eye flashed and his cheek flushed at
the grand prospect thus suddenly opened before
him. But he replied slowly and thoughtfully.
"By laws human and by right divine," he
said, "the empire is my inheritance. But canst
thou speak for the princes of the empire ? "
Ay, that can I," said the knight; I bear with
me papers signed and sent by them. We have

each of us examined as to our will. We have
gone through all the customary rites. And we
all in common, O King, turn our eyes to thee."
I thank the princes for their faith and fealty,"
said Frederick; "but can they be trustyliegemen
to a Boy Emperor ?"
"Though young in years, 0 King," said the
Suabian, thou art old in character; though not
fully grown in person, thy mind hath been by
nature wonderfully endowed. Thou dost exceed
the common measure of thine equals; thou art
blest with virtues before thy day, as doth become
one of the true blood of that august stock, the
Caesars of Germany. Thou wilt surely increase
the honor and might of the empire and the hap-
piness of us, thy loyal subjects."
"And the Pope ? queried the boy; for in those
days the Pope of Rome was the "spiritual lord"
of the Christian world. To him all.emperors,
kings, and princes owed allegiance as obedient
vassals. To assume authority without the Pope's
consent and blessing meant trouble and excommu-
nication. Frederick knew this, and knew also that
his former guardian, Pope Innocent, had, scarce two
years before, himself crowned his rival Otho of
Brunswick as Emperor of Germany.
"I am even now from Rome," replied Von
Justingen; "and Pope Innocent, provoked beyond
all patience at the unrighteous ways of this Emperor,
falsely so called, hath excommunicated Otho, hath
absolved the princes from their oath of fealty, and
now sends to thee, Frederick of Hohenstaufen, his
blessing and his bidding that thou go forward and
enter upon thine inheritance."
The young Sicilian sat for some moments deep
in thought. It was a tempting bait-this of an
imperial crown--to one who felt it to be his by
right, but who had never dared to expect nor aspire
to it.
"Von Justingen," he said at last, "good knight
and true, I know thou art loyal to the house of
Staufen and loyal to thy German fatherland. 'T is
a royal offer and a danger-fraught attempt. But
what man dares, that dare I! When duty calls,
foul be his fame who shrinketh from the test. The
blood of kings is mine; like a king, then, will I
go forward to my heritage, and win or die in its
achieving "
"There flashed the Hohenstaufen fire," said the
delighted Von Justingen; there spoke the spirit
of thy grandsire, the glorious old Kaiser Red
Beard! Come thou with me to Germany, my
prince. We will make thee Casar indeed, though
the false Otho and all his legions are thundering
at Frankfort gates."
So, in spite of the entreaties of his queen, and
the protests of his Sicilian lords, who doubted the

HISTORIC BOYS.

wisdom of the undertaking, the young monarch
hurried forward the preparations for his perilous
attempt. The love of adventure, which has im-
pelled many another boy to face risk and danger,
flamed high in the heart of this lad of seventeen,
as, with undaunted spirit, he sought to press forward
for the prize of an imperial throne. On March the
eighteenth, 1212, the "Emperor of the Romans
Elect," as he already styled himself, set out from
orange-crowned Palermo on the quest for hisheri-
tage in the bleak and rugged North. The galley
sped swiftly over the blue Mediterranean to the dis-
tant port of Gaeta, and upon- its deck the four chosen
comrades that formed his little band gathered
around the fair-haired young prince, who, by the
daring deed that drew him from Palermo's sun-lit
walls, was to make for himself a name and fame
that should seid him down to future ages as Stu-
por -Mundi _-.. -.: Frederick, the Wonder
of the World! In all history there is scarcely to
be found a more romantic tale of wandering than
this story of the adventures of young Frederick of
Hohenstaufen in search of his empire.
From* Palermo to-:- i...r-. i0i-.l Gaeta, the
"Gibraltar of Italy," from Gaeta on to Rome, he
sailed with few-adventures; and here he knelt be-
fore the Pope, who, as he had crowned and dis-
crowned Otho of Brunswick, the big and burly
rival of his fair young-ward, now blessed and aided
the "Boy from Sicily," and helped him on his
way 'with money and advice. From- Rome to
Genoa, under escort of four Genoese galleys, the
boy next cautiously sailed; for all the coast
swarmed with the armed galleys of Pisa, the
stanch'supporter of the discrowned Otho. With
many a tack and many a turn the galleys headed
north, while the watchful lookouts scanned the
horizon for-hostile prows. On the first of May, the
peril of Pisa was past, and Genoa's gates opened
to receive him. Genoa was called the' door "to
his'empire, but foes and hardships lay in wait for
him behind the friendly:door On the fifteenth of
July, the boy and his-escort of Genoese lancers
climbed the steep slopes of the Ligurian hills and
struck across the plains of Piedmont for the walls
of Pavia, the city of the hundred towers." The
gates of the grand old Lomibard capital flew open
to welcome him, and royally attended, with a great
crimson canopy held above his head, and knights
and nobles following in:his train, the "Child of
Apulia" rode through the echoing streets.
But Milan lay to the north, and Piacenza to the
south, both fiercely hostile cities, while the highway
between Pavia and Cremona rang with the war-cries
of the partisans of Otho the Guelf. So, secretly
and at midnight, the Pavian escort rode with the
boy out through their city gates, and moved

cautiously along the valley of the Po, to where,
at the ford of the Lambro, the knights of Cremona
waited in the dark of an early Sunday morning
to receive their precious charge. And none too
soon did they reach the ford; for, scarcely was
the young emperor spurring on toward Cremona,
when the Milanese troops, in hot pursuit, dashed
down upon the returning Pavian escort, and routed
it with great loss. But the boy rode on unharmed;
and soon Cremona, since famous for its wonderful
violins, hailed with loud shouts of welcome the
young adventurer.
From Cremona on to Mantua, and then on to
Verona, the boy was passed along by friendly
hands and vigilant escorts, until straight before
him the mighty wall of the Alps rose, as if to bar
his further progress. But through the great hill-
rifts stretched the fair valley of the Adige; -and
from Verona, city of palaces, to red-walled Trent,
the boy and his Veronese escort hurried on along
the banks of the swift-flowing river; Midway be-
tween the two cities, his escort turned back; and
with but a handful of followers the young monarch
demanded admittance at the gates of the old
Roman town, which, overhung by great Alpine
precipices, guards the southern entrance to the
Tyrol. Trent received him hesitatingly; and, in-
stalled in the Bishop's palace, he and his little
band sought fair escort up the valley and over the
Brenner pass, the highway into Germany. But
now came dreary news.
"My lord King," said the wavering Bishop of
Trent, undecided which side to favor, 't is death
for you to cross the Brenner. From Innspruck
down to Botzen the troops of Otho of Brunswick
line the mountain-ways, and the Guelf himself, so
say my coursermen, is speeding on to trap Your
Mightiness within the walls of Trent."
Here was a dilemma. But trouble, which comes
to Mightinesses as well as to untitled boys and
girls, must be boldly faced before it can be over-
come.
"My liege," said. the Knight of Suabia, stout
Anselm von Justingen, "before you lies the em-
pire and renown; behind you, Italy and defeat.
Which shall it be? "
S"The empire or death! said the resolute
boy.
"But Otho guards the Brenner pass, my lord,"
said the Bishop.
"Is there none other road but this?" asked
Frederick.
None," replied Von Justingen, "save, indeed,
the hunter's track across the western mountains to
the Grisons and St. Gall. But it is beset with
perils and deep with ice and snow."
"The greater the dangers faced, the greater

632

UUNE,

HISTORIC BOYS. 633

the glory gained," said plucky young Frederick.
" Now, who will follow me, come danger or come
death, across the mountains yonder to the empire
and to fortune ? and every man of his stout little
company vowed to follow him, and to stand by their
young master, the Emperor elect.
So it was that, in the first months of the early fall,
with a meager train of forty knights, the Boy Em-

The hurrying hoofs of the royal train clatter
over the draw-bridge and through the great gate.
Constance is won but hard behind, in a cloud of
dust, comes Frederick's laggard rival, Otho.
His herald's trumpet sounds a summons, and
the Bishop of Constance and the Archbishop of
Bari stand forward on the walls.
What ho, there, warders of the gate came

oric

certain of his capture. On the young EC -
peror hurries, therefore, and from the final
Alpine slope he sees in the distance the CROSS AT THY PERIL, BARON APPARON (SEE PAGE 629.)
walls of the strong old city of Constance glit-
tering in the sun. the summons of the herald; open, open ye the
Soon a messenger who has been sent forward gates of Constance to your master and lord, Otho
comes spurring back. "Haste ye, my liege he the Emperor! "
cries. "Otho is already in sight; his pennons The thronging spear-tips and the swaying crests
have been seen by the lookout on the city towers." of Otho's two hundred knights flashed in the sun,
VOL. XI.-41.

HISTORIC BOYS. [JuNE,

and the giant form of the big Brunswicker strode
out before his following. But the voice of young
Frederick's stanch friend and comrade, Berard,
Archbishop of Bari, rang out clear and quick.
Tell thy master, Otho of Brunswick," he said,
"that Cohstance gates open only at the bidding
of their rightful lord, Frederick of Hohenstaufen,
Emperor of the Romans and King of Sicily."
Otho, deeply enraged at. this refusal, spurred
furiously forward, and his knights laid spears in

And now it was won indeed. From every part
of Germany came princes, nobles, and knights
flocking to the Imperial standard. Otho retired
to his stronghold in Brunswick; and on the fifth
of December, 1212, in the old R6mer, or council-
house, of Frankfort, five thousand knights with the
electors of Germany welcomed the Boy from
Sicily." Four days after, in the great cathedral of
Mayence, the pointed arches and rounded dome of
which rose high above the storied Rhine, the

. . T, h ,,Ii!+

9 i
,f r ,I ,~r ;,+m~-"P~-;--m L~r~* 1 1 1 : ;
1.-_ 040 2, .

5 ,": -T. - --":

.- -- '; .,.( .
< ... ...2_ +_; =-- -- ,-- + = -- +,. -

"W-H HO, THRE W

-- ". HA W HAT tO, THERE, WARDENS OF THE GATE! "

rest to follow their leader; but the Bishop of Con-
stance commanded hastily, "Ho, warders; up
draw-bridge-quick! "
The great chains clanked and tightened, the
heavy draw-bridge rose in air, and Otho of
Brunswick saw the gates of Constance swing
shut in his very face, and knew that his cause
was lost.
By just so narrow a chance did young Frederick
of Hohenstaufen win his Empire.

sad little prince of but five years back
was solemnly crowned in presence of a
glittering throng, which with cheers of welcome,
hailed him as Emperor.
And here we leave him. Only seventeen,
Frederick of Hohenstaufen--the beggar prince,
the friendless orphan of Palermo, after trials and
dangers and triumphs stranger than those of
any prince of fairy tales or Arabian Nights "-
entered upon a career of empire that has placed
him in history as "one of the most remarkable
figures of the Middle Ages."

HISTORIC BOYS.

[JUNE,

-

QUEER GAME.

QUEER GAME.

BY MRS. S. B. HERRICK.

-- HE children's home was
a large, rambling frame
-- *- house with a great many
rooms in it, and with
Si long entries that turned
off short, as if they had
heird an order, "Right about
fa:," and obeyed with sol-
C' drly precision. Across the
S:'' tfr.: it of the house and all
(N dii_-.; the southern side were
S d.- p. rwo-storied porches with
railings around them; prime play-places in
wet weath- er they were, too.
The big brown house was set down in the
midst ofthe Virginia mountains. Crowding
close up to the back door were immense chest-
nut and tu- lip-poplar trees, with trunks meas-
uring ten or twelve feet around.
The chil- dren,Will, Harry, andlittleEmily,
stood on the southern porch, waiting. The
morning freshness of a perfect summer
day was all around them. Will held in
his hand a large conch-shell, which he raised
to his lips every now and then as he talked,
and then dropped again. Mrs. Carrington's
soft, mellow voice came from the dining-room,
where she had been employed in getting out
the sugar, butter, honey, and cream for break-
fast: "My son, you may blow the horn now."
Then the conch went up to some purpose, for
Will blew such a ringing blast as made the
mountain which rose abruptly behind the
house send back a quick-replying echo, and
brought an- other boyish figure out of the open
door with a sudden rush.
"Well, Will!" said the new-comer, "what on
earth was that for ? I thought it was the crack of
doom."
That," said Will, very impressively, was for
breakfast."
How do you manage it, old fellow ?'" said
Arthur, making several ineffectual attempts to
blow some sound out from the pierced shell which
Will handed to him.
"Oh, it's easy enough when you know how,"
said Will, with an air of superior wisdom. "I '11
teach you how after breakfast. We have n't time
for it, now."
The children's cousin Arthur had come from

the North only the evening before, to pay them a
visit at their home. It was his first experience of
the old-fashioned Virginia way of living, and he
naturally inquired about everything that seemed
novel or strange to him, while Will felt very im-
portant at having so many questions asked which
he was able to answer.
"I say, Will," said Arthur, "what are all
those queer-looking little baby-houses under the
trees? I never saw a whole city of baby-houses
before."
"Baby-houses ? -those exclaimed Will, the
puzzled look on his face clearing away as he fol-
lowed the direction of Arthur's gaze, Oh, those
are bee-hives."
"Harry!" continued Will, with more frankness
than politeness, "what do you think? Arthur
wants to know what the bee-hives are! He calls
them baby-houses."
"Bee-hives !" said Arthur, rather contemptu-
ously; in New York we have round-topped hives,
like an Eskimo hut, you know."
Ho, ho," laughed Will. Now, do tell me
in what part of New York you saw those ante-
diluvian bee-hives."
Brought to book, Arthur was forced to confess
that he had not seen any hives at all; that his
meager knowledge had been gained from a pict-
ure in one of his old scrap-books. And for the
honor of his native State, he at last reluctantly ad-
mitted that perhaps they had given up straw hives
and used the patent Langstroth hive, and that
New York bee-keepers did not now have to
smother every swarm of bees in order to secure
their winter stock of honey.
Of course they don't," said Harry; "Father
bought his hives in New York at first, and his
Italian queen-bee, too."
The boys' eager talk of bees, bee-keeping, and
bee-hunting was interrupted by Mr. Carrington's
coming in from the orchard with a basket of great
rosy peaches in his hand.
"Come, boys," he said cheerily, "lend us a
hand at breakfast; plenty of time for -talking after-
ward."
"Yes; and a safer place for talking, too ex-
claimed Arthur, as he retreated in-doors to escape
the hum of a bee which seemed to him to be dan-
gerously near his ears.
"Father," said Will, breaking the silence which

QUEER GAME.

accompanied the first onslaught upon batter-cakes,
corn-bread, and rolls, can't you take Arthur and
Harry and me out bee-hunting with you to-day,
and give Arthur the bees and honey we find, just

THE PICTURE IN ARTHUR'S OLD SCRAP-BOOK.

as you did last summer with Harry and me? Wont
you, Father?"
"Yes," said Mr. Carrington; "that is a very
good idea. To-day is just the day for a bee-hunt.
If Arthur does n't feel too tired after his journey,
we will go and see if we can find my bee-tree. I
have caught and sent out half a dozen wild bees in
the pasture just over the mountain, and I think
the tree can not be more than two miles away."
Caught and sent out bees, Uncle Hugh!"
said Arthur, bewildered; "what do you mean ? "
I will show you better than I can tell you, if
you feel like going," answered his uncle.
I 'm not tired before breakfast, Uncle," said
Arthur; of course I feel like going."
In the meantime I will let you into some of the
secrets of bee-housekeeping in the village un-
der the chestnuts, as soon as we have finished
breakfast," said his uncle.
"Wont they sting ?" said Arthur, rather timidly.
"We shall provide against that," Mr. Carring-

ton answered, good-humoredly. "We shall don
our coats of mail before we invade their territory."
When the boys had disposed of their breakfast,
and were fidgeting in their chairs, longing to be
off, Mr. Carrington went into a
store-room, called by common con-
sent "the bee-room," and brought
out the "coats of mail." First
came the helmet, which was a
cylinder of wire-gauze about fif-
teen inches high and nine across,
just large enough to slip over
his head and rest comfortably on
S his shoulders. This bee-hat was
closed over the top by a round
piece of calico; on the bottom
was sewed a curtain of the same
calico slit up in two places on
opposite sides.
Mr. Carrington arranged the
cylinder so that these slits came
over his broad shoulders, tucking
one-half the curtain into the back
of his coat, while the other half
he buttoned inside his coat in
front. He then drew on a pair of
india-rubber gardening gauntlets.
S"Now," he said, "I am bee-proof.
Put this other hat and pair of
gloves on yourself, my boy, and
let us have a look at the hives."
SArthur equipped himself in the
novel suit of armor, and followed
his uncle out to bee-town.
Mr. Carrington stopped before
the shelving platform in front of a
hive. Taking hold.by the projecting eaves of the
flat roof, he lifted off the top, showing a square
box in which hung six oblong frames, which were
full of delicious honey-combs of a delicate creamy
yellow, and fragrant with the odor of flowers. A
few bees were crawling over the combs, but only
a few, and these seemed very peacefully inclined.
"Did those few bees make all that honey?"
said Arthur.
No, indeed," said his uncle; we are coming
to the bees presently. This is only a store-house
where the bees put the honey for me, after they
have filled their own hive, which is underneath
this. I will come to their home when I have dis-
posed of these combs.
Carefully removing the frames, Mr. Carrington
uncovered the lower box, and began taking out the
frame of comb from it. This honey looked very
different from that in the upper story. Instead of
being a delicate yellow, the comb was of an ugly
brown, some of the cells capped over with a shallow-

636

[JUNE,

QUEER GAME,

domed roof of wax, others open and full of honey. don't you see the golden bands across the body?
The whole comb was swarming with bees, sucking That shows it to be an italian."
away at the honey, as if for dear life. "And are the Italian bees better than the wild
What makes this comb so brown, Uncle
Hugh ?" said Arthur. t, \
"It is old comb," said Mr. Carrington, -
"and has been used over and over again -
for different purposes; for storing honey and i
bee-bread, and even as cradles for the baby .
bees. When a young bee is hatched and "[
leaves its cell, it leaves behind its first baby-
clothes, which, of course, are the cocoon, or FIG. BEES. (NATU'AL SIZE.)
a, drone; b, worker; c, queen.
chrysalis, in which it grew from the maggot
state into its perfect beehood. When the infant bees ?" further queried his nephew, as he carefully
bee comes out of its cell, other bees go in to clean examined the pretty one his uncle held.
out the deserted chamber. Instead of throwing out They are gentler," said Mr. Carrington, strok-
the baby-clothes they find there, they glue them ing the bee tenderlywith the tip of his gloved finger,
carefully against the walls of the cell, thus thick- as though he loved it. "And it is said that the
ening and strengthening it, but at the same time Italian bee has a longer proboscis, and so can get
making it look ugly and brown. Some cells have honey from the red clover, which is so abundant
been found to have a series of seven or eight of these hereabout. I thought they were better; for, when
linings, one corresponding to each baby that has I was a very poor man, I bought an Italian queen-
been hatched there. After awhile the cell gets bee in the big city of New York, and paid twenty
too small for cradle purposes, and then it is used dollars for her, and I have never yet repented of my
as a store-room." extravagance. I have now sixty-nine hives of pure
"Notice these bees, Arthur; see, here is a brown Italian bees, and they are all the descendants of
bee; these others, you see, are yellow. The brown my pretty queen. Allowing forty thousand bees
bees are wild bees; the yellow ones are Italian. to a swarm, which is a moderate number, it is not
See, here is a beauty," he said, taking up a light- a bad showing for her majesty. Let me see, forty

SFIG. 2.
A, comb; d, drone cells; w, worker cells; t, store cells of intermediate size; b, capped honey cells; m, cell with maggot; c, cells
with eggs; g, queen cell; B, sidewise view of comb; C, queen cell with lid cut off by bees to let her majesty out.
yellow bee on the forefinger of his clumsy india- thousand by sixty-nine makes -well, at least two
rubber glove; this is a pure Italian bee." and a half. millions of living descendants, besides
"What is the difference, Uncle Hugh ?" asked dozens of queens I have given away, with all their
Arthur. descendants; these, added to the multitudes that
"The difference? said Mr. Carrington. "Why, have lived and died in the meantime, must make,

638

QUEER GAME.

[JUNE,

THE ORIGINAL BEE-HUNTERS.
all together, not far from two hundred millions in clumsy he looks. Here are all three kinds of bees
twelve years." together,- queen, workers, and drones."
Taking out frame after frame, Mr. Carrington What is the August slaughter? Do you kill the
looked carefully over each one as he talked. "See drones in August? asked Arthur.
here, my boy; here, in this knot of bees, is the "No," said Mr. Carrington, I do not, but the
queen. She is the mother of every Italian queen in working bees do. In August, usually, but always
this hive and of many thousands of bees besides. after midsummer, the bees become tired of support-
There she is, the one with the long, slender body. ing the drones in idleness, so they sting them to
See how different she is from the worker bees. death. I opened this hive," added Mr. Carrington,
Here is a drone, too, that has somehow managed to on purpose to show you a queen's cell. Do you
escape the August slaughter. See how heavy and see that thing like a peanut, hanging from the

QUEER GAME.

lower edge of the comb? [Fig. 2, g]. That is the cell
of a new queen the bees are making. This [Fig.
2, A] is a very irregular piece of comb; on the
left are the large cells, the drone cells, on the
right are the worker cells, and between the two are
intermediate sizes; many people consider the per-
fect symmetry of honey-comb a great marvel. It
seems to me that these irregularities are much more
marvelous, for the bees evidently reason about it;
they never waste a bit of room.
These brood cells, that is, the cells in which
the queen lays her eggs, are either drone size for
drone eggs, or worker size for worker eggs. She
makes no mistakes."
"What? Do you mean that the queen always
lays the right egg in the right place ? How can
she know ? said Arthur.
That is one of the mysteries, but it is a fact.
So long as a queen retains her faculties, she makes
no mistakes; sometimes a queen grows very old,
or for some other well-known reason becomes a
little cracked,' then she does make mistakes.
But our little queen, here, is a very Elizabeth for in-
telligence. You see, up there among the worker
cells, one [Fig. 2, m] with a small white worm
in it. Well, that is about as sure to come out a
worker when it hatches as that the sun will rise
to-morrow. See, here [Fig. 2, d] are some drone
cells, and here again [b] capped-over honey cells."
Uncle, you said just now that the bees were
'making a queen.' How can they make a queen ?"
asked Arthur.
"That is a long story, and I must leave it for
another time. It will keep," answered Uncle Hugh,
with a good-humored smile.
After an early dinner Mr. Carrington, Will,
Harry, and Arthur, loaded with bee-hats, gloves,
and other paraphernalia, stood on the porch, wait-
ing for the start. Little Emily, looking wistfully
at them, said: "Father, may n't I go, too?"
O, no said Harry, girls are a nuisance;
they are always tumbling down, or hurting them-
selves, or tearing their clothes." -
No, little one; I am afraid you would not be
able tp stand the walk," said her father.
"Yes, I would, Papa. I stood the walk to
church last Sunday, and it was three miles."
Yes, Father," said Will, "she did. If she gets
tired, I '11 help her. She's a brave little body."
"Well, run in and see what Mamma says; tell
her it's a good two miles to the bee-tree and back,
and ask her if she thinks you can stand it," said
Mr. Carrington.
"Mother says," said Emily, out of breath,
"that she thinks I can stand it, and that Aunt Nancy
lives in that direction, an' if I get tired, I can stay
i A.nt Nancy till you come back."

"Aunt Nancy" was an old colored woman, who
often worked about the house for Mrs. Carrington.
"Very well, daughter," said her father; "get
your own little bee-hat and gloves, and come'on."
The party started off, Mr. Carrington taking the
lead with his staff, the boys following with boxes
and baskets for the bees and the honey they were
to capture, little Emily trudging on cheerfully be-
hind with a bundle of rags in one hand, and the
other clasped closely in Arthur's. The boys were
talking eagerly with their Father and one another.
I wish to look a little closer at that staff your
father has in his hand," said Arthur to Will.
Mr. Carrington's staff [see initial letter] was a
long stout stick, having an iron point on the lower

"'""'ic a e

-. <'::'- -- -".1

6, honey-box; h, hive; a, alighting-board; a, door; c, c,
blocks placed to narrow the opening; f frame for comb,
which hangs inside the hive and the honey-box.

ONE OF MR. CARRINGTON'S HIVES.

end, and on the upper a small diamond-shaped
platform, nine by five inches, making it appear, as
you looked at it sidewise, a long-legged letter T,
with a very short cross-piece above. On the little
platform, at the two sharp ends of the, diamond,
were two pins for "sights," like the little knobs
on a rifle by which the hunter takes aim. Besides
this staff, Mr. Carrington had with him a small
trumpet-shaped implement made out of a common
gourd, in the small end of which a piece of glass
was fitted,- a sort of gourd-funnel with the small
end covered with glass. He also had a piece of full
honey-comb and a bottle of anise oil.
"Boys," said Mr. Carrington, I know just
about where our bee-tree is, for I have been looking
out for it during all the week; so we can manage
the whole business this afternoon. Usually," he
said, turning to Arthur, "we hunt our bee-tree
and mark it one day, and go out for the bees and
honey another. Marking a tree with my initials
makes that tree mine, according to the bee-hunt-
ers' code, no matter on whose land the tree may
be. We always ask permission of the owner, of
course, but it is never refused. Trees are not

639

QUEER GAME.

"*
i i ''
r '_ ,, ,.,
-" J I _.."2...
", .' t,""
,z .. .,, ' m,.

MOSE TAKING THE CROSS-LINE.

counted for much hereabout; besides, the bees
always go into hollow trees, which are of very little
value. In old times bees were hunted very differently
from our modern methods. The bees were sacri-
ficed for the honey: the goose that laid the golden
egg was slain. Christian bee-hunters were about

upon a par with the original wild hunters of the
woods, the bears and the Indians. But now bee-
culture is getting to be a great industry all over
America, especially in California and the great
West."
The party mounted a steep ridge of land north of

640

[JUNE,

,884.J QUEER GAME.

the house, went over the mountain," as the boys
called it, and soon were beyond the home bee-
pasture. They then began their search for bees.
In a few minutes Will caught one tippling in the
bell of a wild morning-glory still wide open in the
cool shadow of a large rock. He caught it, and
brought it-buzzing and scolding in its fragrant
prison-house -to his father. Mr. Carrington
struck the iron point of his staff into the ground,
laid the piece of honey-comb, saturated with
anise, on the diamond-shaped platform, and then
carefully transferred the bee from the flower to his
little gourd, closing the larger end with the palm
of his hand, and turning the smaller end (with the
glass in it) uppermost. The bee at once rose to
the light; he then placed the larger end of the
trumpet on the comb and waited, covering the
glass end with his hand.. The bee, attracted by
the smell of honey and -anise,--which bees love,
-dropped down upon the comb and began to fill
itself with honey; this a frightened bee always
does. When the bee became tranquil and happy,
sucking its beloved nectar, the trumpet was re-

swarm has grown so large as to crowd the hive and
they are going to found a colony, or swarm,' as it is
called; in which case each family will need a sov-
ereign. As soon as it is clear to the wiseacres
that it will be necessary to send off a swarm, the
bees go to work to make a queen. A worker
maggot, or if there happens to be none in the hive, a
worker egg, is selected near the edge of the comb.
Two cells next door to the one in which this mag-
got is are cleared out, and the dividing walls are cut
down, so that three ordinary cells are turned into
one. The food which the worker worm has been
feeding on is removed, and the little creature is
supplied with a new kind of food,-a royal jelly.
Change of food, a larger room, and a different posi-
tion,- for you remember in the comb I showedyou
yesterday the queen's cell hangs down instead of
being horizontal,- these three changes of treatment
turn the bee that is developing from a worker
into a queen. She is different in her outer shape,
different in almost all her organs, and different in
every single instinct. There is nothing else in all
nature that seems to me more wonderful than this.

moved. It went on calmly sucking till it was
satisfied, and then rising in the air, and cir-
cling around two or three times to get its
bearings, it darted off in a bee-line for home.
The staff was turned so that the longer diam-
eter of the platform was in the direction of the
flight. This direction was marked on the
ground, and the party sat down to wait for its
return. Mr. Carrington looked at his watch, and
then spread his large white handkerchief 6n the
grass beside him to help the bee to find them
again.
Yesterday I told you, Arthur, that I would an-
swer your question about 'making a queen,'" he
said. "Now is a good time, while we are waiting
for our recent visitor to find us again. Bees do not
usually want more than one queen at a time.. In
fact, they will not have more than one unless the

"MOSE WAS FLYING AT FULL SPEED, HIS ROSY DRAPERY
STREAMING IN THE AIR." (SEE PAGE 645.)

For fear that one queen may-not come out all
right the provident little creatures usually start
two or three queen-cells at once. It is curious to
watch the first queen as she comes out. She
moves up and down the combs, looking for other

x884.J

QUEER GAME.

QUEER GAME.

- ,,,

_L,
'I
CX~,
i / ;
^s^-"1
**" "-

queen-i.: ll-. and ii -hi i-.rd i :.i.r :-h. fl:,!i '
upon it ir the gup re.it t e: r h:r -n, or, arid isnr i
her r Thal ,. ..:r ..r ii't n :- :,:- b,, .:i.ji; n.ir,
" Twohat, I believe, nev: ur ha t-ens. Wen tihe
then it i d themselves in such a:. thp b Tion t :at
a spa.-w i crainy b s n ifi the t.. rigi ln.:.-r t.: hey.
and raw and sta.. rt a toi a r.hai rhepiet. d his ucl.
royal happens if a iquee t:di rhi ".lLth. Arthu.,
never up ees seem frilled with.-r .steratil,
stunhe The K tic.r iees then : at te co-..ri.
H .'-, i it T,-I I l h, uh fi-_:ri rh, q i r:.- -t'ti :
at the s, and discuss. Whalit dical evet. vaiT do
then ?"
That, I believe, never happens. When the two
queens find themselves in such a position that they
both will certainly be stung, if they go on, they
withdraw and'start fair' again," replied his uncle.
"iWhat happens if a queen dies?" asked Arthur.
"At first the bees seem filled with consternation;
there is a great hurrying and scurrying through
the hive. Knots of bees gather at the comb-
corners, and discuss the political event. They do
not speak, exactly, but they manage to make
themselves understood; for after a few hours they
quiet down and begin making a queen. Huber,
the great bee-student, who, though blind, found out
more about their ways and manners than all the
seeing eyes in the world before him, made a very

V1 ..

. i#t-,,f

I t

V irE

F rui

fd ouL :i

finduaus il,,' lict
did talk. He passed
a fine wire grating, too fine for the bees to get
through, between the combs in a hive, making
two separate colonies out of the one swarm. At
first the half left queenless was in a great ex-
citement; pretty soon, however, they quieted down
and went to work as usual. Somehow, they had
found out that the queen was safe and sound, though
they could not see nor touch her. He then put
another grating beside the first, but about half an
inch from it. The queenless half became excited,
and finally began to build queen-cells. If the
news had been communicated by sight or smell
or sound, it would have gone through two gratings
as well as through one; but if it had been told by
touching antenna, the two gratings would put

642

[JUNE,

; _

QUEER GAME.

an entire stop to conversation, so he thought; and
other people, since, have found that such is their
way of talking.
In a great many other ways queens are differ-
ent from common bees. Her majesty is required
to do no work; she is cared for and fed and
cuddled up warm by other bees. All she has to do

may hold her and tease her, even tear her limb
from limb, if you have the heart to be so cruel,
and she will never sting you; but just let her meet
another queen and then you will see her sting."
"There," said Mr. Carrington, starting up,
"see, there is my bee back at the honey, and it
has brought a friend with it." Then, looking at his

is to la, :-.-:, i-. r -i. i 4 Y
m ust d& hi.:r i...il.:, t,:. -, "
she do,: I. i .'
som etin ,., ..... .:, c: -. 'J.-,, / -. r ,.
for days i i.. it r. i.:r.: .
one very curious thing I for-
got to tell you about the queens; a queen-bee
will never sting anything but another queen. You

!~.. 4. h. i ta: -ien gone
.iuil i,,iu i ii -l : the tree
i:: n t. I ... .,:i -1 iile from
a ,-i ,. It -, 7 1..i-a l.- ni.;i li ,.n."
ii.: rr- m ..:i i. .:l 1.i-,.d down
. ,..,-! ,- -1.. : L ;,i L. : in it w as
.Il.:. .:.i i! i:. .11.11. (he party
1 : l:l I,, theline

-A ; ..ut.:' i k ad Aunt
N - ,: q is.. .... .: -ght. It
5... i r : .., .: .1 '. L.o n ...:- .:.f rough
.. h i.. rii ui ..Jr.. .l. A t one
L.'| - l 0.. 1 [r '. n' way, of
I.,.; pi,- I,:t.-, i -i nl ,ir i ... I .-.:, A unt

.1. -. I .- i ii r '. !. I. i ; -,.:p i. i -he sun.
S'.. ii. i O :. ,.u ..ih .-. :r hi re with
,.- .| ,,i .. ,- N J r .. ,, .. t ..u ;.. on w ith
,i: " .- i, I .[r. "irrirs,_.- .n .
Si ill ;.. ,r . F ,rl,-.:i I I .. .r en a tiny
bit tired," said the little girl.
Mose i" called Mr. Carrington. Come, wake
up, and help us cut down our bee-tree "

1884.1

643

QUEER GAME-

"Law, Mars' Hugh, I war' n't 'sleep; I war'jist
a-steddyin'," said Mose, rubbing his eyes.
Well, old man, forego your studies for a little
while, and come and help us. You'd better take one
of these boys' bee-hats."
"Law, no, Mars' Hugh; de bees don't eber
trouble me, and dose bee-hats hinder my sight."
Mose disappeared in the cabin, and came out
bearing a large piece of brilliant pink mosquito-
netting and an axe.
"I '11 jist carry 'long dis, wha' de ol' woman
kivers up her i'ned clo'es wif, to keep'em from de
flies, and I '11 be all right," said Mose.
You '11 be sorry if you put that thing on; it's
worse than nothing," said Mr. Carrington.
"Mars' Hugh," said Mose, impressively, "I
knows I 's an ign'ant ol' niggah, but I does know
some fings."
"Very well," said Mr. Carrington, "this is a
free country, and if you like to be stung, far be it
from me to interfere with your rights."
The boys laughed, and Mose put on an added
shade of dignity..
Now, Mose," said Mr. Carrington, "give me
your mosquito-netting, and take my staff with this
bee on it, and get the other line while I get mine
again with the second bee, which seems to have
eaten its full."
"Arthur," said his uncle, "you see if Mose
marks a line by one bee from away over there,
and I mark another from here by the other bee,
since they both fly straight, the bee-tree must be
where these two lines meet. If you were a sur-
veyor, you could tell me just where that point
would be. I, being a woodsman, can tell you pretty
nearly as well."
The tree is about a half a mile from here, nor'
nor' east," he said, returning after a little time,
having marked Mose's line. "Now for it, boys, with
a will "
Picking up their traps they started off in good
heart over the rough ground, even little Emily, with
her parcel of rags, merry at their good fortune.
They followed the bee-line as nearly as possible,
Mr. Carrington keeping his hat covered with his
handkerchief, with staff and anised honey-comb
exposed, so as to draw other bees by both sight
and smell. They captured many bees, released
them, and found their bee-line true. Before long
they noticed one of the released bees going back
in the direction they had come.
"Ah, little tell-tale !" said Mr. Carrington,
"'we 've passed your tree, have we? Well, we
have not passed it far "
They turned upon their steps, and soon found an
old Spanish oak, which looked as if it might be the
tree, but they could see no hole.

Never mind, boys, trust to the bees again,"
said Mr. Carrington. "They have not guided
us all this way through the woods to fail us at
last. Every one of you look at that clear space
between the boughs. You will probably see
the bees passing and repassing. Look sharp,
boys!"
They all looked earnestly at the spot indicated,
but could make out nothing.
Father, I see the bees! exclaimed Emily, in
her high treble. "They 're going in right over
your head."
Sure enough, the little girl had discovered the
opening into the hollow tree, not two feet above
her father's hat.
"Here, Mose," said Mr. Carrington, "here 's
youri bobinet."
Yes, sah," said Mose, enveloping himself in
folds of pink mosquito-netting, looking preter-
naturally solemn as the children all laughed.
"Where are your rags, Emily?" said her
father. Taking them, he set them a-smoldering,
and pushed them into the hole above his head.
Mose could not get over his grievance, but was
heard muttering between the blows of his axe,
Nev' you min', Mars Will, I tole you once, an' I
tell you ag'in, de bees don't ever trouble 'bout
me."
In a few minutes, after Mr. Carrington, Will,
and Mose had taken their turns at the axe, the tree
began to show signs of falling; finally it swayed,
and under Mose's skillful strokes crashed down,
the opening into the wild bees' home lying upper-
most. A log about five feet long, containing the
hollow, was soon chopped out, and this carefully
split open, showing sheets of comb and masses
of bees within.
Though much quieted by the smoking, some of
the bees dashed out angrily. All the party but
Mose being protected by bee-hats were safe, but
the old man's mosquito-netting proved a poor
protection. Beating off the bees, he rushed away,
more and more frantic with their buzzing and their
stings, and the last thing Mr. Carrington and the
boys saw of Mose'he was flying at full speed, his dig-
nity all forgotten, his rosy drapery streaming like
an aurora in the air. The boys shouted, and even
Mr. Carrington could not help laughing at the
poor old fellow. When they turned to their work
again, little Em was found sitting by the tree sob-
bing, and vainly trying to wipe away her tears with
the large india-rubber gauntlets through the wire-
gauze of her bee-hat. She was a pitiful, absurd little
figure, and the boys laughed silently over her
unconscious head, while they spoke comforting
words to-her.
Before the bees had been boxed, and the honey

644

[JUNE,

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.

bucketed, Mose came back, as dignified as ever, to
help tote de fings home."
"How 're your stings, Uncle Mose ? said Will.
My stings 're all right, Mars' Will," said Mose
solemnly; I tol' you de bees did n' ever trouble
me."
The return cavalcade took up its line of march,
Mose carrying the bucket of honey, Will and his
father the box of bees, and the other two boys took
the little girl between them, jumping her over the
rough places.
A weary party reached home just as the cows
were coming up to be milked and the cool breath
of evening was rising out of its ambush in the deep

valleys beyond; but it was a very merry party, in
spite of its weariness.
Mr. Carrington and Will carried their box of wild
bees--there were almost two pecks of bees--
and emptied them out on the alighting-board of a
hive ready-stocked with combs and bread to make
it seem home-like to them; and then all went up-
stairs to make ready for their early country tea.
Arthur," said his uncle, when they were
seated around the table, a half an hour later,
" you have a nice little nest-egg out there in the
hive under the trees. Many a man has made a fort-
une with a poorer start. Let us see what you
will do with your captured treasure, my boy."

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.*

By MAURICE THOMPSON.

CHAPTER III.

UNCLE CHARLEY MEETS AN OLD FRIEND.

OUR friends drove on until late in the afternoon
before they found a suitable spot on which to camp,
under some scrubby oak-trees, beside a slug-
gish little brook. There was a spring of very
good water close by. A farm-house was in sight,
on a high swell of the prairie. It was flanked by
broad-winged barns, and half-hidden in a dusky
apple-orchard. A tall windmill, with a gayly
painted wheel, was shining and fluttering in the
bright sunlight.
As soon as the wagons were stopped the dogs
leaped out and ran to wallow in the brook.
The man who had driven the camp-wagon soon
had the horses cared for and the tents put up.
The luncheon brought from home was spread
upon a clean cloth, and the boys thought they
had never before eaten anything quite so good.
The long ride in the open air and the excitement
of the sport had whetted their appetites. Hugh
said the sun had burned the back of his neck so
badly that he believed the skin would come off;

but he was ready to follow the man-of-all-work to
the farm-house, where they got a basket of apples.
While they were gone Uncle Charley gave Neil
his first lesson in handling a gun.
The first thing to be learned," said he, "is to
stand properly. Plant both your feet naturally
and firmly on the ground, so that the joints of
your legs are neither stiff nor bent; then lean the
upper part of your body slightly forward. Grip
the gunstock just behind the guard with the
right hand, the forefinger lightly touching the
foremost trigger, that is, the trigger of the right-
hand barrel. The stock of the gun, a few inches
in front of the guard, must rest easily in the hol-
low of the left hand. Hold the muzzle of the gun
up and slanting away from you, so that the lower
end of the butt is just lower than your right elbow.
Now, if both hammers have been cocked, and you
gently and swiftly draw the butt of the gun up to
and against the hollow of the right shoulder, you
will find yourself in good position for taking aim,
which is best done by keeping both eyes wide open,
and looking straight over the rib between the bar-
rels with the right eye."
Neil took Uncle Charley's gun, and began to

*Copyright, z883, by Maurice Thompson.

645

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.

try to follow his instructions. But how am I to
tell when I am sighting with my right eye, if I keep
both eyes open ? inquired he.
Oh, you '11 soon discover that trick," said
Uncle Charley, "by fixing your aim with both
eyes open, and then, holding it perfectly steady,
closing the left eye; if the line of sight now
changes, you have not sighted correctly; if it
remains fixed, the aim has 'been taken with the
right eye."
Neil tried it over and over with great care,
until he was quite sure he had mastered the
method. He was a cool-headed, methodical boy,
not in the least nervous, and what he undertook
he always tried to do well.
"Be careful there!" cried Uncle Charley, as
Neil lowered the gun to the ground, "never set
your gun down with a hammer up. That is the
cause of many deplorable accidents."
Oh, I forgot! said Neil, his face flushing.
"You must never forget anything when you are
handling fire-arms. To avoid accident you must
be constantly on the alert and cautious, not over-
looking even the slightest precaution."
When Hugh and the man returned from the
farm-house, the sun had sunk low down in the west,
and the prairie-chickens were booming their pecul-
iar calls far out on the rolling plain.
"Hugh," said Uncle Charley, "I shall leave
you and Mr. Hurd" (the man-of-all-work) "in
charge of the camp, while Neil and I go for a short
tramp among the chickens."
Then he took his gun, and calling the dogs,
started down the side of the little stream, closely
followed by Neil. Hugh felt quite tired, so he
lay down at the root of a tree and soon fell into a
light, sweet sleep, while Mr. Hurd went about
preparing the supper.
When they had gone a little way from camp,
Uncle Charley said to Neil:
"Here, take my gun and let 's see if you can
kill a prairie-chicken."
Of course Neil was delighted. He took the gun,
and eagerly followed the dogs, as they showed signs
of scenting game down the' stream. Very soon a
large bird flew up from among some low willows
and thick grass at the water's edge. As quickly
as possible Neil took the best aim he could, and
fired first the right barrel, then the left; but the
big bird flew on as though nothing had happened.
Uncle Charley laughed heartily, and Neil
looked rather stupid and abashed at his failure.
"If you had killed that duck, you would have
been liable to a fine," said Uncle Charley.
"Why, was that a duck? I thought it was a
grouse," exclaimed Neil.,
Well, you're saved this time," added Uncle

Charley; "those cartridges you fired had no shot
in them "
I thought something was wrong," said Neil,
"for I aimed exactly at that bird."
"Well, I 'll put some properly loaded cartridges
in the gun now," said Uncle Charley, laughing
grimly; but you must n't fire at any bird but a
prairie-chicken, because the law forbids it at this
season."
They went on, and the dogs soon pointed a
flock of grouse in some low dry grass on a windy
swell of the prairie. Neil:had seven fair shots,
and killed just one bird. He could not understand
how this could happen. He tried very hard.to aim
just as he had been instructed, but he kept
missing, nevertheless.
When it had begun to grow dusky on the prai-
rie, and they had turned toward the camp, Uncle
Charley explained to Neil why he had missed so
many birds. He said:
"For one thing, you are in too great a hurry,
and consequently shoot too soon. Then, too, you
aim right at a flying bird, which is wrong, save
when it flies directly away from you. It is abso-
lutely necessary to aim somewhat ahead of the game
when its course is to left or to right of your line
of aim."
Neil was thoughtful for a moment. "Ah, I
see into the philosophy of it," he said; "you
mean that the bird flies a little way while the shot
are flying to it, and consequently, if I aim right at
it, the shot will probably go behind it."
"Precisely," said Uncle Charley.
Well, I'll not forget that lesson," Neil mur-
mured. "The bird that I killed was flying straight
away from me."
When they reached the camp, it was quite dark,
save that Mr. Hurd had a fire blazing, which
lighted up a large space. A pot of coffee was
steaming on a bed of coals, and some birds were
broiling, filling the air with a savory smell that
made Neil very hungry. They were rather sur-
prised to find a strange man sitting by the fire.
He stood up when they approached, and then he
and Uncle Charley hastened toward each other
and shook hands.
"Why, my old friend Marvin, how glad I am
to see you cried Uncle Charley.
"Charley, my boy, how d' ye do?" said Marvin.

CHAPTER IV.

MARVIN THE MARKET-HUNTER.

HUGH had been quietly sleeping all this time
at the root of the tree; but when he heard
Uncle Charley's voice, he awoke and sat up, rub-

646

[JUNE,

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.

bing his eyes with his fists. At first he could
hardly remember where he was, and stared wildly
about him; everything looked so strange in the
glare of the firelight.
"See what I brought down!" cried Neil, go-
ing up to his brother and holding out the prairie-
chicken.
Hugh's memory cleared as by magic, and in a
moment he was
\,:. .: : !. '- .
\ - *>*1 ~ '-,** C a-

NEIL'S FIRST PRAIRIE-CHICKEN.
think he did," said Neil; "have n't you heard
me firing away? "
"I believe I've been asleep," said Hugh; "but
who is the gentleman Uncle Charley is talking
with?"
"His name is John Marvin; they seem to be
old friends; Mr. Hurd says he's a market-hunter."
What is a market-hunter? asked Hugh.
"A market-hunter is a man who kills gaine to
sell. He makes his living by hunting," replied Neil.
Supper was soon ready, and Marvin joined them
in eating the well-cooked meal. It delighted the
boys to hear him and Uncle Charley talk over
their hunting adventures and their experiences by
flood and field, they had been to so many wild
and interesting places, and had seen so many
strange birds and animals.

Mr. Marvin said he had been having good luck
with prairie-chickens since the opening of the sea-
son. Birds, he said, were far more plentiful than
usual, and he hoped to make enough money, by
the time cold weather came on, to enable him to
go South, where he hoped to hunt throughout the
coming winter.
Mr. Marvin was a man of about fifty years of
age. and had followed market-hunting all his life.
Hi-i -.:.iied to know everything that is worth
i:r....- about guns and dogs and the habits
.. !.'1 .me. Uncle Charley evidently regarded
rl-_i !- in opinions as authority on outdoor sub-
-.:1 ii fact, Neil and Hugh soon discovered
i., r : :.Iarvin was a very well-known and highly
,:I: : man among the best class of American
i-""i i ,': and naturalists. He was a regular agent
.:. !'uiithsonian Institute at Washington for
collecting rare specimens of nests,
S eggs, birds, fishes, and animals.
They all sat up quite far into the
Sl' night, planning various little expedi-
tions, and enjoying the cool breeze
and the fresh perfume of the prairie;
and when they lay down in their tents
they slept until the eastern sky was
growing bright with dawn.
Marvin's tent was only a little way
S up the brook from those of Uncle
Charley and the boys. Just after
breakfast he hastened down to say
that he had seen a large flock of grouse
alight in a field of oat-stubble on the
Neighboring farm. Uncle Charley
made short work with the rest of his
meal, slipped on his long rubber
boots to protect his feet and legs from
the heavy dew, called the dogs, seized
his gun, and was off with Marvin be-
fore the boys were half through break-
fast. Not many minutes later the guns began to
boom.
Neil and Hugh could easily distinguish the
sound of Marvin's gun from that of Uncle Char-
ley, for the reason that Marvin used a heavy ten-
bore gun with five drams of powder and an ounce
and a quarter of shot for a charge.
Hugh said that gun sounded like a young cannon.
As the sun rose higher and the grass began to
dry, the boys went for a stroll along the brook.
They found many beautiful wild flowers, the love-
liest ones being large white water-lilies, with broad
thin leaves floating on a still pond. While look-
ing at these, they saw an old duck with her half-
grown brood of young ones hastily swimming
awdy to hide among the tall weeds on the farther
side of the water.

647

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.

"I see now why the law forbids shooting ducks
in summer," said Neil. "If one were to shoot
that old duck now, the young ones would not know
what to do; they would probably wander about
for a few days and die."
The boys gathered some lilies and carried them
back to the camp. Uncle Charley and Marvin
returned about ten o'clock with a heavy load of
birds. Marvin had killed twenty-three and Uncle
Charley nine.
"It 's no use for me to shoot with Marvin," said
the latter, in a tone of good-natured chagrin; "he
always doubles my score."
Through the middle of the day, while it was too
hot to hunt, they all lay in the shade of the trees
and talked, or read some books on natural history
that Neil had brought from his father's library.
Mr. Marvin took great pleasure in listening to
Neil reading aloud from Wilson's Ornithology."
Occasionally, he would interrupt the reading to
throw in some interesting reminiscence of his wild-
wood rambles, or to make some shrewd comment
on the naturalist's statements. Neil soon liked
Mr. Marvin very much, and so did Hugh. In fact,
he was so simple and straightforward and honest
in his way, so frank-faced and clear-eyed, that one
must like him and trust him. He told the boys a
great many stories of his life in Southern Florida,
with adventures that befell him while he was
exploring the everglades and vast swamps of that
wild region. He seemed a very encyclopedia of
varied hunting experience. Almost any healthy
boy will find such a man to be a charming com-
panion; and if the boy is desirous of obtaining
knowledge, he can gather a great deal of it from
listening to his conversation.
Mr. Marvin soon discovered the great hope the
boys had of one day being good shots, so he went
to his tent and brought a little sixteen-bore gun
that he used for killing snipe and woodcock and
other small birds. He took out the cartridges, and
handed the gun to Hugh.
Now," said he, let me see how you would
handle it if you were going to shoot a bird."
Hugh seized the gun, much as a hungry boy
would grab a cut of plum-pudding, jerked it up to
his shoulder, shut one eye,- which got his face all
in a funny twist,- opened his mouth sidewise, and
pulled the trigger. They all laughed at him long
and loudly. Uncle Charley declared that he would
give a dollar for a correct photograph of that
attitude.
But Hugh was too much in earnest to be laughed
down. He kept trying until he could get himself
into passable form; but it was plain to Uncle
Charley that he would never be so cool and grace-
ful as Neil. Hugh's enthusiasm counted for a

great deal, however, and might carry him through
some tight places where more deliberation and
scrupulous care would fail. Mr. Marvin next put
some unloaded cartridges in the gun, and allowed
Hugh to fire at an apple that he flung into the air.
When the cartridges exploded, Hugh winked his
eyes and dodged.
"Be perfectly cool and steady," said Mr. Marvin;
" you '11 get it all right presently."
Of course I will," exclaimed Hugh, his voice
trembling with excitement and his eyes gleaming.
" I'd have hit that apple if the shell had been
loaded."
"No, you'd have over-shot it," said Mr. Mar-
vin; "you were too slow in pulling the trigger.
The apple fell a foot between the time you shut your
eyes, and the time you fired."
Hugh had a pretty hard time controlling his eyes;
but he finally succeeded in keeping them open
while firing, and then he began to show some
steadiness and confidence.
Mr. Marvin then explained that the first great
rule in shooting at a moving object is to learn to
look steadily at the point where you wish your shot
to go; and the second rule is to learn to level the gun
at that point without any hesitation or "poking."
You have no time for taking a deliberate aim at a
swiftly moving bird, and to attempt such a thing
will make of you what sportsmen call a "poke-
shot," that is, one who squints, and aims, and pokes
his gun along, trying to keep his fore-sight on
the flying game. A really good shooter fixes his
eyes on the spot to be covered by his aim, at the
same time that he swiftly raises his gun and points
it in the correct line,- his eyes, his arms, and his
right forefinger all acting in perfect harmony
together. You observe that when a good mu-
sician begins to play on the piano he does not
fumble for the keys, but finds them as certainly
and as naturally as he winks his eyes. So the
shooter must not fumble for his aim, but get it by
a swift, steady, sure movement that is only obtain-
able by careful and intelligent practice.
Mr. Marvin next put a loaded cartridge in the
right-hand barrel of the gun and said:
"Now, sir, you 're goirig to make your first
shot, and I wish you to do it just as I have di-
rected; if you do, you '11 hit this apple; if you
don't, you '11 miss it. Ready, now, fire !" and he
flung the apple into the air.
Hugh forgot everything in a second, raised his
gun awkwardly, squinted one eye, and pulled trig-
ger. The report of his shot rang out on the
prairie, but the apple came down untouched.
Over-shot it," said Mr. Marvin, shaking his
head. You 'poked 'badly; and such a squint!"
Hugh looked all over the apple, but he could

648

[JUNE,

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.

not find a scratch. I 'II not miss it next time,"
he cried; but he did. In fact, he shot seven times
before he touched the apple.
Mr. Marvin had to scold him several times
about carelessly handling the gun. He once said:
Never allow the muzzle of your gun to point
toward yourself or any one else, no matter whether
it is loaded or not. If you are careless with an
empty gun, you will be careless with a loaded one."
, ~ _-. ......._ .

t.

SHE EXTENDED THE STOCK OF THE EMPTY GUN TOWARD NEIL
Then he added: I once heard a backwoodsman
say that his father proved to him that a gun was
dangerous without lock, stock, or barrel."
How could that be ? said Hugh.
Why, his father whipped him with the rdim-
rod said Mr. Marvin. Hugh admitted that the
proof was quite relevant, and promised to try to
form a careful habit of handling guns.

CHAPTER V.
A LESSON IN WOODCOCK SHOOTING.
THE prairie upon which our friends were en-
camped was one of those beautiful rolling plains
VOL. XI.-42.

for which Illinois is so justly famous. There were
but few inclosed farms in that immediate region,
the greater portion of the land being still in its
wild, grassy state, and used mostly for pasturing
cattle that were attended by mounted herdsmen.
Sometimes these herdsmen would get angry at the
hunters for shooting near their cattle, This was
not surprising, however, for the reports of the guns
often so frightened a herd that each separate steer
would take its own course, and
- run for a mile as fast as it could
--- -' go, bellowing furiously. Men who
know say that a run like that will
- take a dollar's worth of fat off each
steer; so we can not wonder that
cattle-men should grumble at care-
\.-- less sportsmen for causing them
such loss. But sometimes the
chicken-shooters do worse harm
than merely frightening the herds.
If a bird happens tobe flushed
near a herd of cattle, a heedless
hunter may shoot a steer instead
of the game; then, if the owner is
near, he is ready to fight; and you
may well believe that a big brown-
Sfaced prairie herdsman is a dan-
gerous fellow when angry.
Mr. Marvin told of an adventure
he once had with a cattle-owner.
He said:
I was shooting on that beau-
tiful little prairie in Indiana called
Wea Plain; and when quite near
a drove of cattle I flushed a single
chicken. I fired, and brought
down the bird in good style; but,
as luck would have it, the rest of
the shot went broadside into a fine
fat steer that was grazing about
tri 4, ;1 fifty yards away. Such a bawling
as that animal set up was terrible
to hear, and the whole drove
" (SEE PAGE 653.) stampeded at once. Well, while I
was standing there, gazing after the galloping cat-
tle, suddenly 'bang bang !' went a gun not far
away, and both of my fine dogs fell over dead. I
turned quickly, and saw a furious herdsman sitting
on his horse with a Winchester rifle smoking in his
hand.
'Now you put on your best gait and walk
a chalk-line from here !' cried the man. I began
to try to explain, but he grew more and more
angry, and said he did n't want to hear a word
from me. I saw he was desperate and dangerous,
so I made the best of a bad situation, and walked
away."

649

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.

There is a good lesson in my adventure," said
Mr. Marvin, and you boys must remember it.
Never get so excited, in following game, as to for-
get to be prudent and careful about the safety of
others or their property. Of course the herdsman
did wrong in killing my dogs; but I did wrong,
too, in the first place, by carelessly shooting
toward his cattle. Suppose it had been a man or
a boy I had hit, instead of a steer,- how miserable
I would have been "
The good advice of Mr. Marvin took hold of
Hugh's conscience, and he ii, .i1I declared that
he would always be very careful what he did with
a gun.
The next day was Sunday, and they all rested
and read, or strolled along the brook.
Neil, while out by himself, was passing around
the edge of what might be called a little oasis in
the prairie, a low, swampy spot of ground grown
up with a thicket of low willows and elbow brush,
when he pushed a woodcock. At once he rightly
suspected that quite a number of these exquisite
game-birds had collected here to feed upon the
insects and larvae which they could find by boring
with their long bills in the mud. He kept his dis-
covery to himself.
Next morning he went early to Mr. Marvin's
tent, and asked him for his little sixteen-bore
gun.
I wish to shoot some woodcock down here in
a little thicket," he said, seeing that Mr. Marvin
hesitated.
"Suppose I go with you," suggested Mr. Marvin.
"Are you very sure there are woodcock there?
I looked at that place the other day and thought
I 'd examine it again soon."
"I should be delighted if you would go with
me," quickly replied Neil; "will your dogs point
woodcock? "
I should think so," said Mr. Marvin, they
know all about them; but are you sure that any
birds are there ?"
"I flushed one there yesterday," Neil replied;
"and I saw many places where others had been
boring in the mud."
Mr. Marvin looked sharply at Neil, and said:
Where did you learn about the ways of wood-
cock? You never hunted any, did you? "
I have read all the books on ornithology that
I could obtain," replied Neil.
Mr. Marvin was already getting the guns out,
and selecting cartridges loaded with small shot.
"Shooting woodcock is quick work," he said.
"Almost every shot must be a snap-shot."
"What is a snap-shot? asked Neil.
A shot which is made without any aim," an-
swered Mr. Marvin. "When you are in the

bushes and brush, and a bird flies up, oou must
shoot in a great hurry, or it will get away."
Uncle Charley and Hugh saw Mr. Marvin and
Neil going off together across the prairie, and
Hugh wondered how it chanced that Neil had
thus gained the market-hunter's confidence. Neil
was carrying the little sixteen-bore across his.
shoulder with much the air of an old sportsman,
though it kept him almost on the run to keep up.
with Mr. Marvin, who strode along at a great
pace, his head thrust forward, and his eyes fixed
on the distant fringe of bushes that marked the
woodcock swamp.
,The morning was cool and sweet, with a thin
film of fleecy clouds across the sky. The grass
was dewless, and a little cool wind blew from the
south-west. In every direction the grouse were
crying in their mournful, monotonous way. In
the east a great flare of red showed where the sun
was just getting up behind the clouds. The dis-
tant low hills of the prairie looked like ocean;
waves. Here and there the herds of cattle were.
scattered, some lying down and some grazing.
Neil had never felt happier in his life.
The thicket, or cripple," as woodcock feeding-
grounds are sometimes called, lay in a low place
near the border of a thin wood, where the prairie
began to break up into a hilly fringe of timbered
land.
Mr. Marvin held in the dogs until they reached
the margin of the place; then he loosed them,.
and bade them work. Those well-trained and
intelligent animals were eager for sport, and at
once began cautiously scenting along the border
of the thicket. They were not the same kind of
dogs as Uncle Charley's. They were small wiry
pointers, with short hair and smooth, sharp tails.
Their names were Snip and Sly, and they seemed
never to get tired.
"You 'd better call Snip and go to the left;
I '11 take Sly and go to the right," said Mr..
Marvin. "We 'll be apt to find more in that
way."
Snip seemed perfectly content with the arrange-
ment. He went as Neil directed, after giving
him a bright look, as if to say: Ha! you 're
going to shoot my birds for me, are you? "
Mr. Marvin and Neil were soon lost from each
other's sight. Neil went along very cautiously,
watching every movement Snip made. In some
places the bushes and weeds were so tangled that
it required a great deal of struggling to get through
them. The ground was like jelly in certain spots,
shaking and quivering under Neil's feet. Some-
how, Snip passed by a woodcock without scenting.
it, and it flew up from a spot very near to Neil's
feet. Whiz went its wings. Its rise was so sud-

650

[JUNE,

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS

den and unexpected that Neil was really startled,
and he stood gazing at the bird until it dropped
again down into the cripple. He had entirely for-
gotten to shoot at it !
The next moment Snip came to a stanch stand
a little farther in the thicket. Neil drew a long
breath to try to steady his nerves, held his gun
in position, and walked slowly forward. Flip !
whiz Out of a tuft of tangled weeds rose a fine
strong bird, its wings gleaming brightly, and its
long bill thrust forward. Neil tried to keep cool
and aim steadily; but he was so eager to kill the
game that he fumbled and poked with his gun
before pulling trigger, and the bird escaped.
Snip looked inquiringly at the young sportsman,
as if at a loss to know what this slow business
could mean.
Neil heard Mr. Marvin fire several times. "That
means game for the market-men," he said to him-
self; "he does n't get excited."
It required a great deal of tramping before Snip
could find another woodcock. This time Neil
behaved in a more sportsmanlike way; but he
missed the bird, nevertheless. He had shot so
hurriedly, in order to hit the bird before it got into
the bushes again, that his aim had been wrong.
Bang! bang! he heard Mr. Marvin's gun again,
some distance off. Just then he stumbled a little,
and stepped upon a soft place, sinking instantly to
his armpits in a slimy slush of mud and water.
He seized a strong bush as he went down, and
this was all that saved him, for his feet did not
touch bottom. His gun had fallen across some
tufts of aquatic weeds and grass, so that it did not
sink.
Ugh ugh grunted Neil, as the ugly black
mud oozed around him.
Then he began to struggle, trying to get out.
But the mud clung to him and he could gain no
chance to use the strength of his arms. This
frightened him, and he called Mr. Marvin in as
loud a voice as he could command. There was
no answer. He called again and again; still no
answer. The whole surrounding country had sud-
denly grown as noiseless as midnight. Neil was
a brave boy, but his heart sank as he thought of
what might now befall him. The mud was cold,
chilling him with its disgusting touch. He heard
a herdsman singing far away on the prairie/and
then the double report of a gun in the extreme
.distance. Had Mr. Marvin gone off after a flock
of grouse ? The thought made Neil nearly des-
perate. He struggled hard and long to draw him-
self out, but to his dismay the bush to which he
was clinging began to show signs of giving way.
If it should break, he would disappear in the mud
and never be seen again.

He called Mr. Marvin again and again, in a
high, clear voice. Bang bang! sounded the gun
once more, apparently a little nearer. Neil now
screamed and yelled desperately, for his arms were
growing tired and weak. He thought of Hugh,
and Uncle Charley, and his kind father at home.
He looked at the gun, and it flashed into his head
that his foolish desire to have a gun had been the
cause of his dreadful misfortune. He wished he
were at home. The tears were running down his
cheeks, and he was quite pale. He kept up his
doleful calling, but he was too weak to struggle
any longer. Even the dog seemed to have de-
serted him in his extreme danger.

CHAPTER VI.

HUGH'S FIRST BIRD.

SOON after Mr. Marvin and Neil had gone away
toward the woodcock grounds, Uncle Charley took
Hugh and went to look for grouse. Hugh carried
Uncle Charley's small gun; and as they walked
along, watching the dogs circle about in search of
the game, Uncle Charley explained the curious
process by which the barrels of fine shot-guns are
made. He said:
Those beautiful wased lines and curious flower-
like figures that appear on the surface of the barrels
are really the lines of welding, showing that two
different metals, iron and steel, are intimately
blended in making the finest and strongest barrels.
The process of thus welding and blending steel
and iron is a very interesting one. Flat bars, or
ribbons, of steel and iron are alternately arranged
together and then twisted into a cable. Several
of these cables are then welded together, and
shaped into a long, flat bar, which is next spirally
coiled around a hollow cylinder, called a mandrel;
after which the edges of these spiral bars are
heated and firmly welded. The spiral coil is now
put upon what is called a welding mandrel, is
again heated, and carefully hammered into the
shape of a gun-barrel. Next comes the cold
hammering, by which the pores of the metal
are securely closed. The last, or finishing, oper-
ation is to turn the barrel on a lathe to ex-
actly its proper shape and size. By all the
twistings and weldings and hammerings, the
metals are so blended that the mass has some-
what the consistency and toughness of woven steel
and iron. A barrel thus made is very hard to
burst. But the finishing of the inside of the barrel
is an operation requiring very great care and skill.
What is called a cylinder-bored barrel is where
the bore or hole through the barrel is made of
uniform size from end to end. A choke-bore is

. 884.]

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.

one that is a little smaller at the muzzle end than
it is at the breech end. There are various ways
of "choking" gun-barrels, but the object of all
methods is to make the gun throw its shot close
together with even and regular distribution and
with great force. There are several kinds of
metallic combinations that gunmakers use, the
principal of which are called Damascus, Bernard,
and laminated steel; the Damascus barrels are
generally considered the best."
Hugh had listened very attentively to what
Uncle Charley said, but he was also watching the
dogs as they searched in every direction for grouse.
In the midst of a slough, Belt came to a stand,
but Don refused to back him.
"There 's a prairie-chicken, sure exclaimed
Hugh, holding his gun ready.
I think not," said Uncle Charley; for Belt
acts as if he does n't feel interest in what he is
doing, and Don, you see, refuses to back him."
"I'll walk up, anyhow," said Hugh; "there
may be a chicken."
Don't be in too great a hurry; be deliberate,
and, if a bird flies up, take good aim before you
fire," said Uncle Charley.
Hugh proceeded very cautiously through the
high grass, keeping his eyes alert and his hands
ready. Uncle Charley stood watching him..
Belt turned his head to one side, and behaved
rather sheepishly, as if ashamed of what he was
doing.
Suddenly, with a sharp flapping of wings, a
heavy bird rose- from a tuft of water-grass and
slowly flew along in a straight line away from
Hugh. Here was the main chance for a good,
easy shot, and the boy did not neglect his oppor-
tunity. Up went his gun, a good steady aim was
taken, and then the report rang out on the air.
The big bird fell almost straight down.
"Well done cried Uncle Charley, laughing
loudly, well done "
But Belt refused to retrieve.
Hugh hurried to where his game had fallen, and
picked it up. Uncle Charley kept on laughing.
"Why, it's a thunder-pumper!" said Hugh,
holding the bird high by its long, slim legs. "I
was sure it was a chicken! "
"A great sportsman are you!" cried Uncle
Charley, "not able to know a bittern from a
grouse Why, Belt knew better all the time "
"Well, I hit it, all the same, anyhow," re-
sponded Hugh.
"That's nothing to boast of, I should say,"
remarked Uncle Charley; "'do you know how
many shot you let fly at that bird ? "
"An ounce of number nines, I think," replied
Hugh.

But how many pellets are there in an ounce
of number nine shot?" inquired Uncle Charley.
I don't know," said Hugh.

S -. '[, .-" '-- f ._

.1. -1 I--
''i ilis^

A THUNDER-PUMPER.
"Well, there are five hundred and ninety-six."
"So many?"
"Yes," said Uncle Charley, "you had five
hundred and ninety-six chances to hit it."
I am sorry I killed it," said Hugh; but I
thought it was a prairie-chicken. It is a very
handsome bird; is it of any value ? "
"No," replied Uncle Charley; but the Indians
formerly hunted them for their mandibles, with
which they used to point their arrows for killing
small game. See how sharp they are I allowed
you to shoot at it in order to teach you a lesson.
First, whenever you see a dog acting as Belt did,
you may be sure it is not pointing a game bird.
Second, you ought to know as soon as a bird rises
whether or not it is of a kind fit to kill. A true
sportsman is always quick with his eyes, and never
commits the mistake of shooting a thunder-pumper
for a grouse "
"How did I handle my gun ?" inquired Hugh,
"did I seem to know how to shoot? "
You hurried too much. The bird had n't gone
twenty feet when you fired. You must remember
to be deliberate and to keep your wits about you."
They went on, and the dogs soon pointed a small
flock of grouse in a field of weeds. The birds were
in excellent condition, scarcely grown, and flew
slowly; but Hugh missed four before he killed one..
He banged away at every wing he saw. Uncle
Charley several times scolded him roundly for his
careless shooting. He promised to be very cau-
tious; but he had not fired a half-dozen more
shots before he hit Belt in the ear with a pellet,
making him howl at a terrible rate.

652

[JUNE,

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS

One more heedless action," cried Uncle Char-
ley, "and I '11 take that gun from you and never
allow you to touch it again I never saw any one
so awkward. You act as if you had no eyes! "
Hugh felt greatly chagrined. The tears came
into his eyes as Belt ran up, with his ear bleeding,
to fondle about him. Of course the hurt was
very slight, but Hugh's conscience told him that
he had been foolishly careless, after all that had
been said to him. He resolved in his heart never
again to allow his eagerness and enthusiasm to
drive away his prudence and caution.
All the morning, as we have said, the sky had
been overcast with a film of clouds. About ten
o'clock, it began to drizzle, and so our hunters
turned toward the camp. Uncle Charley had killed
a dozen chickens and Hugh had killed one. They
reached the tents just as the rain began to fall
heavily.
Mr. Marvin and Neil had not returned.
"I think they '11 get a good old-fashioned
wetting," said Hugh.
"Are n't they coming yonder? Uncle Charley
inquired, pointing at two dark spots far out on the
prairie, barely discernible through the gray,
slanting lines of rain.
"I can't tell," said Hugh; "they are so far
away and the air is so full of mist."
Uncle Charley showed Hugh how to clean his
gun inside and how to wipe it dry outside before
putting it into its case.
A good gun requires careful usage. Rust must
never be allowed to appear anywhere about it, es-
pecially on the inside.

CHAPTER VII.

MR. MARVIN TALKS ABOUT MARKET-HUNTING.

WHEN, at last, Mr. Marvin heard Neil's cries,
he hastened to the spot whence they proceeded,
and perceived at once that the lad was in a dan-
gerous predicament. Picking up Neil's gun, he
fired both barrels into the air, to provide against
accident, as he wished to use the gun in getting
Neil out of the mire. Treading carefully, he ex-
tended the stock of the empty gun toward Neil,
who clutched it with a strong grip the moment it
came within his reach. And thus the boy was
drawn slowly but surely out of the mud, and, at
last, regained his footing upon firm ground.
So the two dark forms, so indistinctly seen by
Uncle Charley and Hugh, proved to be Mr. Marvin
and Neil, though the latter looked more like a
rough model in mud than like a real live boy. He
was completely incrusted in the sticky, slimy muck

of the marsh which, being very black, made his
face look almost ghostly pale.
Why, what in the world is the matter, Neil ? "
cried Hugh, as at last he recognized him.
Neil laughed rather dolefully, glancing down
over his unpleasant coat of mud-mail.
"I fell into a quagmire up yonder. I think if I
had let go I should have gone clear down to
China "
"The boy went swimming in a loblolly of
prairie mud," said Mr. Marvin; it made him very
clean, you see."
Neil was soon quite comfortable, and when din-
ner was ready, he ate heartily, and enjoyed all the
jokes the others turned upon his singular and
dangerous adventure. But he could not help
shuddering now and then as he thought of the des-
perate situation from which Mr. Marvin had
snatched him at the last moment.
The rain continued all the rest of the day, com-
ing steadily down in fine drops, making the prairie
look sad and dreary enough. The dogs curled
themselves up under a wagon, with their noses be-
tween their feet, and slept, no doubt dreaming of
grouse and woodcock.
During the afternoon, the conversation turned to
market-hunting, and Mr. Marvin told the boys
many interesting facts about his business.
"I do not shoot much game for the general
market," he said. Most of what I kill goes to
wealthy individuals with whom I have contracts. By
taking great care in packing and shipping my game,
I have managed to get the confidence of some rich
epicures and some private clubs in the cities of
Chicago, Cincinnati, and New York, and they pay
me nearly double what I could get in the general
market. They usually allow me twenty-five cents
each for prairie-chickens, twenty cents each for
quails, and forty cents each for woodcock. So you
see the eight woodcock I killed this morning will
gain me three dollars and twenty cents. My em-
ployers pay the express charges and often send me
supplies of ammunition, so that my expenses are
very light. I have made as much as fifteen dollars
a day shooting geese at fifty cents each. Spring,
summer, and autumn I spend in the North and
West; in winter I go south to Georgia and Florida,
where I find the best of shooting. In North
Georgia, for instance, there are many old planta-
tions partly grown up in broom-sedge, the greatest
covert for quail that I ever saw. In Florida I do
not shoot much game, as it is hard to get ice with
which to pack it, and the shipping facilities are not
good; but I kill herons and roseate spoonbills and
ibises for their feathers, and I collect rare speci-
mens for the Smithsonian Institute. You ought
to see some of the curious bird's-nests I have sent

MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.

to that institute. Herons' nests from the Okee-
chobee region, cuckoos' nests from Georgia, rails'
nests from the Kankakee, and nests of the Canada
jay from the pine-woods of Canada. I have sold
great numbers of eggs, too, to collectors and scien-
tific men."
What a grand time you have had," exclaimed
Hugh, "going from one fine hunting-ground to
another, always escaping our cold, dreary winters,
and always out in the free open air with your dogs
and guns. How I should like to be a market-
hunter "
"You'd soon become tired of it," replied Mr.
Marvin; "there are many disappointments and
vexatious drawbacks connected with it. At some
seasons, game of all kinds is scarce, and shooting
becomes very dull work. I remember that several
years ago I could hardly find chickens enough on
the prairie for my own boiling. Of course, I like
the business ; it just suits me; but I do not advise
any boy to think of trying it. With stringent game-
laws and the growing opposition to free hunting
by the landlords, the time is near when a market-
hunter will have a poor chance for a living."
I am curious to know something more about
woodcock-hunting," said Neil, whose disaster had
only whetted his appetite for sport.
I hunted with an Englishman in Michigan,once,
who put bells on his dogs when he went wood-
cock-hunting," said Mr. Marvin.
"Why? queried Hugh.
"Well, when the dogs got into thick covert, he
could trace their course by the sound of the bells,
and whenever the tinkling ceased, he knew they
were pointing birds."
That was not a bad idea, said Neil.
He was a jolly fellow, that Englishman," con-
tinued Mr. Marvin; "he liked a droll joke even if
it were against himself. He told me that one day he'
went out to a woodcock covert with a belled dog,
and after following the sound back and forth and
around and around in the tangled growth, suddenly
the tinkling ceased. Very much pleased, he went
to the spot expecting to flush a bird, but he could
find neither -his dog nor any woodcock. Long
and patiently he tramped about the spot to no
purpose. Then he called his dog; it did not
come. Here was a mystery. Could it be possible
that his dog had fallen dead in some dense clump
of the covert? He called until he was hoarse, and
finally went back to camp tired and mystified.
And there lay his dog at the tent door dozing, in
the sun. It had lost the bell "
"Where do you find the most profitable market-
hunting? inquired Uncle Charley.
"When the full flight bf geese and ducks is good,
I get my best shooting in the Kankakee region of

Indiana and Illinois," said Mr. Marvin; but tur-
key-shooting in North Georgia used to be very
profitable."
Have you never hunted large game, such as
deer and bear ? queried Hugh.
Not much; it does not pay. I don't care for
anything larger than a goose or a turkey. When
it comes to real sport, quail-shooting is the very
best of all," replied Mr. Marvin.
"You are right," said Uncle Charley, the
quail is the noblest game-bird in America."
"A thunder-pumper is not bad game when a
fellow is keen for a shot," said Hugh, with a comical
grimace. Uncle Charley laughed, thinking of how
Hugh looked as he stood holding the bittern up
after he had shot it.
Neil and Mr. 'Marvin did not understand the
joke, or they would have laughed, too. It was not
fair to Neil, perhaps, to thus keep Hugh's mistake
a secret after Neil's mishap had been so fully
discussed, but Hugh was the younger, and Uncle
Charley favored him on that account.
When night came it was still raining steadily.
Mr. Marvin remained talking with Uncle Char-
ley and the boys until late bed-time. He told.many
of his strange adventures and described a number
of pleasing incidents connected with his tramps by
flood and field. It was especially interesting to
hear him describe the habits of birds and animals
as he had observed them. But Neil, whose prac-
tical, philosophical turn of mind led him to desire
information that would be of general benefit, asked
many questions concerning practical gunnery.
Mr. Marvin," he said, "there is a proposition
of natural philosophy laid down in my school-book
which bothers me. The book states that a body,
say a bullet for instance, thrown upward, will fall to
the earth with the same force as that with which it
started. Now, if this is true, why do we never hear
of any one being hitwith falling bullet, and killed ?"
Your school-book is mistaken, if that is what it
says," replied Mr. Marvin. A bullet shot from a
rifle directly upward will start with a force suffi-
cient to drive it through three or four inches of
hard oak wood. It will fall with scarcely force
enough to dint the same wood. I have, in shoot-
ing vertically at wild pigeons flying over, had
number.eight shot fall on my head and shoulders
without hurting me. The difficulty with the
philosophical theory is that it does not consider
correctly the resistance of the atmosphere and the
comparative bulk and shape of falling bodies.
Now, an arrow with a heavy point will come much
nearer falling with its initial velocity than will a
round bullet; because the arrow, falling point
downward, has all the weight of the shaft directly
over the point, which makes it nearly the same as

[JUNE,

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK. 655

if it were a bullet of just the point's diameter, but
weighing as much as the whole arrow."
I see," said Neil; I wish I could have stud-
ied that out myself."
Oh, I don't like investigations and study and
all that," cried Hugh; I like fun and adventure
and the pleasant, merry things of life."
But the habit of investigation is most impor-
tant," said Mr. Marvin, gravely; "it prevents ac-

cident through ignorance and mistake, and it often
leads to valuable discoveries. You will never be a
successful man if you refuse to study and investi-
gate. I should not wish to trust a boy alone with
a gun, if he thought of nothing but fun and frolic.
He'd soon kill himself or some one else."
After this, Mr. Marvin went away to his own tent,
leaving the boys to think over and reflect upon
what he had said.

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.

GRANDMA'S SURPRISE PARTY.

THEY all went down the garden-walk, And Grandma will be so surprised !
And saw the flowers bloom. What can she say or do?
Each picked a bunch -a pretty She '11 give each girl and boy a
bunch kiss,
To put in Grandma's room. And give the Baby two.

656

6th
MONTH.

tHE SIl. nIGHOLAS ILMANAG

BY ROYAL AND BARR HILL.

ay Moon's Moon's
of Age. Place.
Week.

Z 8 Virgo
Mon. 9
Tues. 10
Wed. 11
Thur. 12 Libra
Fri. 13
Sat. 14 Scorpio
S FULL Ophiuch
Mon. 16 Sagitt.
Tues. 17
Wed. 18 Capri.
Thur. 19
Fri. 20 Aqua.
Sat. 21
j 22 Pisces
Mon. 23
Tues. 24
Wed. 25 Aries
Thur. 26
Fri. 27 Taurus
Sat. 28
S 29
Mon. NEW
Tues. 1
Wed. 2
Thur. 3 Leo
Fri. A Sextant
Sat. 5 Leo
S 6 Virgo
Mon. 7

Sun on
Noon Holidays and Incidents.
Mark.
t. M.
11.58 Whitsunday. [Regulus.
11.58 (1st) Mars very close to
11.58 ( near Spica. Venus at
11.58 [greatest brilliancy.
11.58 Jefferson Davis b. 1808.
11.59 Patrick Henry d. 1799.
11.59 Robert Bruce d. 1329.
11.59 Trinity Sunday.
11.59 Charles Dickens d. 1870.
11.59 Peter the Great b. 1672.
11.59 Roger Bacon d. 1294.
12. Charles Kingsley b. 1819.
12. Dr. Thos. Arnold d. 1842.
12.
12. 1st Sunday after Trinity.
12. 1 Edward I. of Eng. b. 1239.
12. 1 BattleofBunker Hill,1775.
12. 1 Battle of Waterloo, 1815.
12. 1 James VI. of Scotland b.
12. 1 Longest day. [1566.
12. 2 Capt. John Smith d. 1631.
12. 2 2d Sunday after Trinity.
12. 2
12. 2 Midsummer Day.
12. 2 Bat.ofBannockburn,1314.
12. 3 George IV. of England d.
12. 3 ( near Mars. [1830
12. 3 Queen Victoria cr. 1838.
12. 3 3d Sunday after Trinity.
12. 3 Sultan Mahmoud d. 1830

CHILDREN! can you tell me why
The Crab 's the sign for June ?"
"Yes, we can sir; he backward goes,
And the days will shorten soon."

SPORT FOR THE MONTH.

BY HOOK, and by crook, to bother the cook,
The little boy catches some fish;
Then home with his brother, to show to his mother,
0 what better fun could he wish ?

EVENING SKIES FOR YOUNG ASTRONOMERS.

(See Introduction, page 255, ST. NICHOLAS for January.)*

JUNE 15th, 8.30 P.M.
VENUS has lost but very little of that superlative brilliancy
which it reached on the 4th, and is by far the most beautiful
object in the sky. It will not be Evening Star much longer,
for it will soon be lost in the rays of the sun. When it
re-appears, it will be as Morning Star, and so remain till next
May. It is now standing almost still among the stars and
is exactlyin line with Castor and Pollux, and JUPITER is only a
little to the west. No picture in the heavens made by the stars
only can exceed in beauty that now presented in the western
sky, with the two most brilliant planets so close together, and
Castor, Pollux, and Regulus to complete the scene. MARS,
a comparatively insignificant object, has passed to the east of
Regulus. SATURN we shall not see in the evening again till
the end of the year. Arcturus, far up, nearly overhead, is due
south at thirty-three minutes past eight oclock. Spica has
now passed nearly one hour to the west of our south mark.
High up in the east is the brilliant Vega, the only noticeable
star in the constellation Lyra or The Harp. Being so, the
star is generally called Lyra. Between Arcturus and Lyra is
the star Alphecca, the brightest in the constellation of the
Nort ern Crown, which is formed of a lovely half-circle of
stars. Capella is low down in the north-west. Rising in the
south-east is Antares, in the constellation of Scorpio, The
Scorfiion, one of the constellations of the Zodiac.

THE BEES AND THE ROBBER.

"EVERYTHING was made for man, and all he has to do is to help himself," said a man lifting up the
Hive, and grabbing at the Honey.
"That 's true! buzzed the whole swairm, settling down upon him, and covering him from head to foot;
"we were just made for you, and as you have helped yourself to the Honey, we will make you a present of
the Sting; and so saying, the busy little Bees improved the shining hour.
"Well, well," said the man, when he had at last made his escape, "I 've always heard that stolen fruit is
sweet; but I have found that there is more sting in it than honey."

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

JUNE,

JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.

-r _-Aht 4. .

-'I'

JACK IN THE PULPIT.

HERE comes the summer, brimful of flowers and
birds and child-folk! And I never felt better in
my life. What a world of joy it is !
Well, what shall we begin with this time ?
I know. You all have slates, and slate-pencils ?
You have. How pleasant it is to hear a hun-
dred thousand youngsters reply so promptly !
And where did these slates and pencils come
from ?
You bought them, eh? I do not doubt that.
But where did they come from originally?
Oho! Jack can not hear a hundred thousand
clear voices this time. There is a mumbled con-
fusion of sounds such as "don't know; " out of
the ground; " slate; "made out of clay; "
"never heard any one say, sir; but no definite
answer. Let your Jack hear from you by letter,
one at a time, please. Any day that astonishing
Little School-ma'am may ask us where slate-
pencils come from, and we may as well all be
ready with an answer.
Now for
FACTS FROM PERSONAL KNOWLEDGE.

You all may remember that your Jack asked in
April if any of you ever had known of a dog over
fourteen years of age, or of a horse older than
thirty years, a mule older than fifty, or a sheep
past nine summers. The Little School-ma'am
and I had been informed that these respective ages
had sometimes been exceeded, but we were not sure
of it, and so we asked for information based on per-
sonal knowledge. The deacon, too, wished to get
some definite facts on these points.
Many replies have come, and your Jack hereby
thanks the writers most truly. Apart from the
kindness and painstaking they show, these letters
have a practical value; for they answer questions
that are often asked by others besides the deacon,

the dear Little School-ma'am, and myself. There-
fore, I show you some extracts which the deacon
has selected for you direct from the letters.
Here they are:
A BLACK-AND-TAN 16 YEARS OLD.
ORONO, Maine.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Our next-door neigh-
bor has a black-and-tan dog that will be sixteen the Ioth
of May. It weighs seven and a half pounds, and is blind
at times.
The owner has a daughter of the same age, and that
is how they know the age of the dog so well.
Of the other animals I know nothing.
Yours truly, VIRGINIA M. RING.

A SCOTCH COLLIE 17 YEARS OLD.
MANCHESTER, Vt.
DEAR JACK: In answer to your inquiries relative to
the age of animals, I would say that we have a full-blood
Scotch collie that will be seventeen (17) years old the
coming June. I base my knowledge on my always hav-
ing known him, and that our ages have always been
called the same. I would add that Mr. Slap, as we
call him, is hale and healthy.
Truly yours, N. M. C.

A MONGREL 16 YEARS OLD.
PROVIDENCE, R. I.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Mr. Charles H. Colla-
more, of Warren, R. I., many years ago possessed a
small short-legged mongrel dog, white, with yellow
spots, which went by the name of Squint. He had
raised it from puppyhood; in fact, it was born on his
premises and died there. I remember to have seen it
myself in its old age. When it died, the local paper
deemed the event worthy to be celebrated in verse. The
cause of its death was purely old age.
I knew it to have been very, very old; but was not
sure of its exact age at the time of its decease. So, yes-
terday I obtained from Mr. Collamore the necessary
information :
Squint died aged 16 years, 4 months, and 10 days.
Yours truly, GEORGE L. COOKE, JR.

A TERRIER 19 YEARS OLD.
PROVIDENCE, R. I.
DEAR JACK: In reply to your query in the April
ST. NICHOLAS, here is an instance that I can vouch for:
The Rev. S. Brenton Shaw, 142 Broadway, of this
city, has in his possession a brown Russian terrier
19 years old. Mrs. Shaw chops his food, and in other
ways provides for the animal's comfort. The dog suf-
fers no inconvenience, apparently, from his extreme
old age. Mrs. Shaw will not have the dog destroyed.
S. F. BLANDIN,
Office Chief Police, City Hall.
P. S.-I take the licenses for dogs in the office of the
Chief of Police. I will make some inquiries of dog
owners, as they come for their licenses. I license be-
tween three and four thousand. B.

A BLACK-AND-TAN OVER 18 YEARS OLD.
WASHINGTON, D. C.
DEAR JACK: Our next-door neighbor has a dog that
was 18 years of age last August. There is no doubt about
his age, because he was born in Mr. Morrison's own

658

[JUNE,

JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.

house. The name of the dog is Sport. Sport was
shot once, and he carried the ball two years, when
a gentleman lanced the place and took the ball out.
There still remains a lump on Sport's side where the
bullet went into his body, though it does not hurt
him now. He is a black-and-tan. All the spots that
were tan-color are now gray, except the feet, and they
are growing gray. Notwithstanding his great age,
Sport is still quite active and playful.
I have heard that General Washington's war-horse
lived to the age of thirty-six years. When we were in
Wisconsin, papa knew of two horses, one twenty-eight
years of age and the other twenty-nine, whose owner
occasionally drove them to Galena, Ill., a distance of fifty
miles, and returned the next day; and he told papa that
when he turned them loose into pasture, they would
frolic like young colts. My great-grandmother had a
horse that lived over thirty-five years. I am ten .years
,old. Yours truly, HERBERT V. PURMAN.

A HORSE 33 YEARS OLD.
CLOSER, N, J.
MR. JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: We had an old family
horse that my father had used twenty-eight years.
The horse was five years old when purchased, in 1855.
This animal died last August, aged thirty-three years
.and four months, to the regret and grief of us all, having
been remarkable for his intelligence and speed up to the
last few months of his existence.
Alas, poor Meteor," for he seemed like one of the
family! How we missed his familiar neigh when we
went in the stable Father had taught this horse to
perform a splendid trick act -he would take a flag in
his mouth and wave if and trot around waving it, then
he would take a snap whip, and when father was run-
ning from him, would try to whip him when he got
within a few feet. Meteor would get down and pull
father's boot off, as much as to say: You can not go
to bed with your boots on." Then the horse would lie
perfectly still while the whip was snapped and switched
violently over him, and not get up till he was told his
-oats were ready for him, when he would spring to his
feet and shake his head up and down to express his sat-
isfaction. Then he would stand on a box about a foot
and a half high and turn around to the right and left,
holding one foot up extended, and change his feet when he
reversed the movement. He also would keep time to music.
We drove him out every day for exercise, and he
would trot real fast for a short distance and then sub-
side into a walk. In conclusion, I would state that I
have driven this horse since I was eight years old, being
at times all alone in the carriage. J. T.

ANOTHER HORSE 33 YEARS OLD; AND CAT 14 YEARS OLD.
WASHINGTON, D. C.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: My grandfather owned
'two horses, one of which lived to be thirty, the other
'thirty-three years of age. I also owned a cat which
lived to the age of fourteen. Although I never heard of
a dog as old as that, I thought that I would write and
tell you what I know personally concerning tWe ages
'of animals." Yours, MARY R. CHURCH.

A MARE 38 YEARS OLD.
MOORESTOWN.
DEAR JACK: You ask, Has any one ever heard of
a horse older than thirty years ?" Yes, I have. We have
a neighbor who owns a mare thirty-eight years old.
Her name is Nelly. Only last summer she was seen to

jump a three-rail fence, and seemed to enjoy her dust
bath as much as her son Harry does. He is twenty-
one,-just eight years older than I. The Aooreslcswn
Chronicle had a paragraph lately referring to old Nelly:
Jonathan Pettit is the owner of a Mayday mare which has arrived
at the respectable age of thirty-eight years, twenty-two of which
have been spent while in his possession. Though not so spry as
she used to be, the animal did plenty of good hard work only last
summer, but is used now only as a carriage horse.
I have heard that there is a white mule, now being
taken care of at one of our army posts in Texas, which
served through the Mexican War, and is now a pen-
sioner of the U. S. Government. Is it true ?
Faithfully yours, JENNY H. M.

A MARE 40 YEARS OLD.
NEAR BOUND BROOK, N. J.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Seeing in the ST.
NICHOLAS that you wanted to hear about a horse over
thirty, or a dog over fourteen, I will write you of both.
We have here at our home a mare which is forty years
old. She was bought when she was three years old, for
my uncle to ride when he was a little boy. She has
been in the family thirty-seven years. She is too old
now to ride, but I drive her. I will be happy to show
her to any one who would like to see her. My father
owned a dog that lived to be fourteen. It was born in
his printing-ink factory in 1855 and died there in 1872.
Your young reader, GEORGE MATHER.

A MULE 63 YEARS OLD.
NEWARK, N. J.
DEAR JACK: The late Professor Mapes had on his
farm, in New Jersey, a mule named Kitty,- a hardy,
willing worker,- famous throughout the neighborhood
for having gone beyond her fiftieth year, and for being
quite able to compete with mules not half that age. Kitty
Mule, as we called her, lived to be sixty-three years old,
and she was in working order up to within one week of
her death. Her history was well known. I saw her
daily for twenty-seven years. P. T. Q.

A HORSE 37 YEARS OLD.
NEWTON, Iowa.
DEAR JACK: I can tell you about a horse that lived
to be thirty-seven years old! He was owned by.a Mr.
Steele, in Derby, Vt. When he was about thirty years
old, Mr. Steele gave him to a gentleman in Barton, Vt.,
requiring him to sign a contract that he should be well
kept and kindly cared for while he lived, and when he died
should be well buried in a coffin made of two-inch pine
plank. A few years after another friend of the fine old
horse took him to Glover, Vt., to live with him, and, ac-
cording to contract, took the best of care of him; giving
him hay-tea to drink and pudding and milk to eat.
One day he received a visit from another friend, who,
thinking (perhaps) that a change of air would be pleas-
ant for the old fellow, took him home with him to North-
field, Vt., where he soon after died, aged thirty-seven
years, several months, and some days. His beautiful
dark bay coat was taken off, made to look as natural as
life, and placed in the Museum at the Capitol in Mont-
pelier. He and all his family were noted for their
beauty, lofty style, and great intelligence. My papa
has owned several of them, and we have a picture of one.
I have taken the ST. NICHOLAS since I was ten years
old, am now thirteen, and think, with ST. NICHOLAS to
read and a good horse to ride, a boy ought to be all right.
Your friend, FRED K. EMERSON.

659

657

OIr BOYS AND GINLS. 0s.
_Days.

I.

Il//Il'

Iyi~
~' ;

II'

K'

:i)i
*1,1** I

I 'VE COME with my roses," rippled June, with a voice like a brook murmuring over pebbles; they 're
going to be lovely this year, Mother. Blush Rose really deserves your praise, and little Wild Rose and
Sweet Brier have made a special effort. I 've had a good long rest, and am ready to go to work again.
Are the peas ready for shelling ? "
No, no, child," said Dame Nature, "you must not soil your hands with such work; but go and take a
look at them, and the strawberries, and see if the cherries are beginning to blush, and then get you to your
roses. It takes a sharp eye to see the worms at their hearts, but you must not trust too much to appear-
ances; and give me all the smiles you can, my pretty one, to warm my old heart."

WHY?

BY MRS. M. F. BUTTS.

WHY have the bluebirds come
With painted wings ?
Why is the great earth full
Of lovely things ? -
Golden stars in the grass,
Rosy blooms in the trees,-
Wafts of scent and song
Blown on every breeze ?
Why? Do you hear afar
The tread of little feet
Touching the golden stars,
Crushing the clover sweet?

Do you hear soft voices sing:
"We have thrown our books away!
Dear Earth, we come to you
For rest and play? "
Well the good Earth knows
When school is out;
And so she molds the rose
And brings the birds about.
She spreads green boughs abroad
To shade the way;
And makes her meadows meet
For holiday.

1884.

]

THE LETTER-BOX.

[JUNE,

THE LETTER-BOX.

CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that, between the ist of June and the 15th of September, manuscripts can not conveniently
be examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with
contributions will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.

VIRGINIA.-Address Children's Aid Society, New York; New
York Foundling Asylum, 68th Street; or New York Orphan Asy-
lum, West 73d Street.

STONY FoRD, March, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In the February number you spoke
about Jack Frost being such a beautiful decorator. I saw the piece
in the magazine, but did not feel so much interested at the time;
but one cold morning last week Jack Frost visited our dining-room
windows, and painted lovely fern and oak leaves and a great many
other funny but very pretty designs, but the funniest of them all
was a little girl standing on what seemed to be a very high mountain,
holding out her hands to an imaginary stove. I am not a very big
girl, only just eleven years old, and I don't know very much about
Jack Frost, still I think I can tell what makes frost on the window-
panes. It is the moisture of the room within and the extreme cold
outside. The cold draws the moisture on the window-panes and
the cold air freezes it. I asked my grandma if she thought I could tell
how Jack painted them any better, and she told me to get the ency-
clopedia; well, I did, and an awfully heavy book it is, too. I looked
for frost, but the words were so big and long that I did not very
well understand them, and I will have to ask some other little girl
to explain it better. Your earnest little reader,
MABEL G. A.

GROVETON, TEXAS, Feb. 5th, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am much interested in the astronom-
ical part of the "ST. NICHOLAS Almanac." All through January
we have been able to see the four planets, viz., Jupiter, Venus,
Saturn, and Mars, as well as Sirius, and through the latter part of
the month the comet and the new moon also.
The stars shine very brightly here, much brighter than in my old
Iowa home, and lately the heavens have been very beautiful.
Your constant reader, ALICE M. S.

BROOKLYN, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Although I have taken your valuable book
six years, I have never thanked you for the pleasant hours yeo
have afforded me, but I sincerely do now.
My favorite author is Miss Alcott. I am greatly interested in the
"Spinning-wheel Stories," and also in "Winter Fun."
E. S. P. thinks he is too old to read ST. NICHOLAS. It's so natural
for me to read it every month, I never thought to consider my age
(I was seventeen last December). My mother reads it every month,
and enjoys it very much.
I am studying stenography, and also taking piano lessons.
JOSIE S.

WEST NEWTON, MASS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : This is the first letter I have ever written
to you, though I have been intending to for a long time.
My father, who when he was a little boy used to live on a farm,
often tells us stories, one of which I think will interest the readers of
this magazine. They had an old cat with her kittens ud in the
loft, and one day a tom-cat,came in and killed all but one of them.
This one the old cat took out to the farm, where she hid it under the
hay and fed it every day. None of the family knew where it was
until one day, several months afterward, my grandfather, when he
took off the hay to feed the cows, found it there. It was as large as
a full-grown cat, but its eyes were not open and it could not walk.
After a few days it opened its eyes and learned to walk, and became
afterward a respectable old cat. Your constant reader,
ELSIE P.

NEWTOWN, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I will tell you about my kittens. I had
three. I named them Prance, Fanny, and Blacky. One day a
little girl came to see me, and we were sitting at the dinner-table,
when we heard some one playing on the piano in another room. I
went to the door and found Fanny sitting on the piano-stool, and
putting her paw first on one key and then on another, and looking
surprised at the sounds. Whenever my Mamma sat down to write,

Prance would spring upon her shoulder, and jump down on the desk
and sit on her paper; and when she was sewing, kittle would strike
at her thread, and then lie down on her work. My cousinhas a cat
thirteen years old. He can open doors, and is very fond of sliding
down hill. He slides alone, and when the sled is drawn up, he stands
ready to get on for another slide, and is never tired of the sport.
JESSIE C. DREW, eight years old.

203 Bristol Rd., BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken ST. NICHOLAS for some
time, and we all like it very much. I think the Spinning-wheel
Stories by Miss Alcott are beautiful. Could you tell me how to make
jumblees? I have read about them in "What Katy did at Home and
at School and other American books, and the children in them
always seem so fond of them. I was thirteen last August. I have
a brother of fifteen, and two sisters aged eight and ten.
I am yours truly, ALICE IRELAND.

April, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS My aunt has been giving you to me for
four years, and I was delighted when you came again this year.
You get better every year, and I don't know what I would do with-
out you. "The Land of Fire is splendid, and "The Origin of the
Stars and Stripes so interesting. Everybody ought to read it.
Your constant reader, L. E. C.

FORT WARREN, MASS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you how I am spending the
summer. I have a little garden with four-o'clocks, lady-slippers,
oxalises, geraniums, poppies, moming-glorys, gladioluses, petunias,
and I have planted some mignonette, pansy, and some Joseph's coat
that came from Genera Garfield's garden, and mamma says that when
her fuchsia stops blooming she will give me a slip of it. I have no
pets except my little brother; he is four years old. I had two
canaries; but my aunt spent the spring with us, and when she went
away I gave them to her. From one of your readers,
HATTIE I. W.

YONKERS, April Io, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am eleven years old and am one of
your readers. I like especially the serial stories of Tierra del Fuego,
or Land of Fire," and "Winter Fun."
Have any of your readers ever seen an open bee's-nest? I found
one one day built of hay and sticks on a wood-pile; the bees were
very busy at a lump of honey in the center. I thought bees nested
in the ground. Your faithful friend, ARTHUR HYDE.
Arthur and other boys who are interested in bee's-nests will wel-
come the paper entitled Queer Game," in this number.

THE following letter from Dakota Territory-will interest all our
readers, we are sure.
BLUNT, DAKOTA, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought you would like to hear from a
little girl out in Dakota, many miles from New York.
My mamma is a widow, and has come out here and taken up two
claims: one is a tree claim and the other is a homestead. They join
each other.
We intend to farm this summer, and have chickens, and set out
apple-trees, peach-trees (which we are not sure will grow), plum-
trees, cherry-trees, and all the different kinds of trees that will make
an orchard.
And we intend to raise small fruits, such as currants, raspberries,
strawberries, gooseberries, and, too, we intend to raise grapes, and to
have a small vegetable garden.
Mamma says she is not going to sow wheat and oats and plant corn,
but rent 2oo acres to a man and let him raise it on shares.
I said above in this letter that mamma had taken up two claims;
perhaps some of the readers of the ST. NICHOLAS do not know what

660

THE LETTER-BOX.

"taking up claims" means, so I will rise to explain," as they say
in town-meeting.
Well, in the first place, Dakota is a large Territory, and nearly all
prairie land, and only a few years ago nobody lived here but wild,
wild Indians, who made no use of the land, but lived by hunting.
Uncle Sam saw what splendid land it was. "Too good to be
wasted," he thought, and so he bought it of the Indians, and now
we can buy it of him.
Well, we buy of Uncle Sam a quarter of a section, or 160 acres
of land, for 9 cents an acre.
But we must make a promise to Uncle Sam that we will live on
the land five years, and cultivate it. Then at the end of that time we
get a deed from him and the land is ours. This is a homestead.
Now a tree claim is this:
As this is prairie land and there are no trees growing here, so we
buy another quarter section of Uncle Sam and plant io acres in
trees. So when the trees are growing nicely, Uncle Sam gives us a
deed for this land, and if we take up the two claims together (as
mamma has done) it makes us a farm of 320 acres.
I do not know whether this is a very nice letter or not; but I am
only ten years old, and never wrote for a paper before, and all I
asked my mamma was how to spell the big words.
With many kind wishes, dear ST. NICHOLAS, I am yours truly,
BERTHA C.

NEW YORK.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I read in a newspaper the other day this
little story about a painter who died in London last year, and I think
other boys might like to read it, too. The painter was named Cecil
Lawson, and the paper said that at the age of four he copied in oil
a picture by Clarkson Stanfield; at six he began to paint the portrait
of a lady who lived next door; at ten he was in a dame school, when.
being one day reprimanded by the mistress, he left the school and
returned with a canvas bigger than himself, and asked whether a
boy who could paint like that did not deserve to be more respectfully
treated. Yours truly, L. W. G.

ENGLEWOOD, N. J., January 28, 1884.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I read in the Letter-box this morn-
ing about one of your readers having seen "A Ship in the Sun," so
I thought I would write and tell you how I saw a pilot-boat in a
rainbow.
We were off the banks of Newfoundland in a dense fog, and no
pilot. About four o'clock we heard a noise that sounded like
distant thunder. It went on so the captain had the ship directed
toward the place where it seemed to come from. The sun had
come up a few minutes before and formed a beautiful little rainbow
on one side of the ship. Through this beautiful arch there sailed
suddenly a trim little pilot-boat with all sails set. From it was sent
a little row-boat with the pilot. After having taken him on board
and after the row-boat had returned, the pilot-boat disappeared as
magically as it had come.
I have been taking you for about four years, and think you are
the nicest magazine published. I am twelve years old, and at
boarding-school. I am your true friend and constant reader,
R. BOLLES.

OUR thanks are due to the following young friends, all of whose
letters we would be glad to print if there were room: Maud
E, Nellie Little, Josie Buchanan, Edward S. Oliver, Bessie Legg,
Hattie C. F., C. R. Brink, Lena W., G. B. Rives, Gracie Whitney,
Claire D., M. E., Mamie J. P., Clarice C., Evert F., A. Andrews,
B. A. and B., E. S. D., L. H. Moses, Mary Bines, Walter M.
Buckingham, E. C. Byam, John Footc, Mary Chamberlain, Daisie
Vickers, Ruth W. Hall, E. S. B., G. E. D., Maidee L. Roberts,
Sarah H., Florence M. L., H. L. Smith, Margaret W. Leighton, M.
N., Mary Dogan, Nellie McCune, E. Carman, Hester M. F.
Powell, E. M. Jr., Georgene Faulkner, F. C., Jessie Heely, May
L. Goulding, Estelle Macpherson, Adelaide L. Gardiner, and
Richard Wilson.

AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION-THIRTY-EIGHTH REPORT.

THE following Chapters have been admitted since our latest report:
No. Name. N. a of Mfembers. A address.
601o West Point, Miss. (A).... 16.. R. S. Cross.
602 Guelph, Ont. (A) ......... 22. iss Daisy M. Dill, Box 213.
603 Chicago, Ill. (U).......... 4..C. F. McLean, 3120 Calumet
Ave.
604 Fredonia, N. Y. (A). ..... 6..Mrs. Jennie N. Curtis.
605 E. Orange, N. J. (B)...... 6..Frank Chandler.
606 Evansville, Md. (A)....... 5. C. D. Gilchrist, 421 Chandler
Ave.
607 San Francisco (H)......... 6..R. Dutton, Cal. & Devisadero
St.
608 Los Gatos, Cal. (A)....... 4..E. L Menefee.
609 Brooklyn, N. Y. (H)...... 6..Philip Van Ingen, 122 Rem-
sen St.
610 Racine, Wis. (B).......... 5..Chas. S. Lewis, Racine, Coll.
611 London, England (D)...... 5..R. T. Walker, 14 Queen's
Gardens, W.
612 Urbana, Ohio (C)......... 3..Edwin M. S. Houston.
613 Winooski, Vt. (A)......... 4..S. G. Ayres.
614 Baltimore, Md. (H)....... 7..R S. Hart, 211 Presstman St.
615 Newport, R. I. (C)........ 5..J. P. Cotton, 15 Park St.
616 Norwich, Conn. (A)..o.... 15..A. L. Aiken.
617 So. W'mstown, Mass. (A).27..R. C. Campbell.
618 Central Village, Ct. (A)...2o..Edgar M. Warner, Esq.
619 Phila., Pa. (T)........... 5..James McMichael, 520 N.
Twenty-first St.
620 Manlius, N. Y. (A)....... 4..G. C. Beebe.
621 Garden Grove, Cal. (A)... 4..Horace C. Head.
622 Utica, N. Y. (B)......... 5. William White (care On. Co.
Bank),
EXCHANGES.
/
Peacock iron, and coal, Michigan coral and fossils.- E. D. Lowell,
722 West Main St., Jackson, Mich.
Correspondence with other Chapters.- F. L. Armstrong, Mead-
ville, Pa.
Silver, copper, lead, mica, and sea-urchins.-W. G. Curtis, Ab-
ington, Mass.
General exchanges.- Willie Clute, Sec. 514, Iowa City, Iowa.
Eggs and skins of Colorado birds. (Eggs blown through small
hole m side, and same sort wished.)- W. F. Strong, 804 Cal. St.,
Denver, Colorado.
Labeled Hemiptera and Coleoptera. (Write first.)-E. L.
Stephan, Pine City, Minn.

Eggs.- Frank Burrill, Lisbon, Me.
Bird's-eggs, and skins, and fossils.- F. H. Wentworth, 123
Twenty-fifth St., Chicago, Ill.
Fine specimens of Manganese.- Caroline S. Roberts, Sec. 522,
Sharon, Conn.
Labeled fossils, shells, and minerals; and correspondence in South
and West.-E. P. Boynton, 3d Ave. and 5th St., Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
Mounted Canadian insects (labeled), for rare minerals.-Sharlie
Hague, 172 E. 87th St., New-York, N. Y.
Correspondence with any one that has a botanical garden.- Miss
Jessie E. Jenks, Oneonta, N. Y.
Berries of Abies precatorius (the standard weight of Hindoo
.-.:rl.- r cocoons or butterflies.- Miss Isabelle McFarland,
: : : F St., Washington, D. C.
17-year locusts of 1870, for large Trilobites. Devonian fossils.-
C. R. Eastman, Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
Pressed plants for a hang-bird's nest and eggs.- Stella B. Hills,
Sheboygan Falls, Wisconsin.
Correspondence.-T. F. McNair, Hazelton, Pa.

QUESTIONS.
I. What is the food of a prairie-dog? 2. What woods are least
liable to rot? 3. What is a cidaris? 4. Is a knowledge of the
classics necessary to a scientific education? [Not "necessary,"
but highly helpful and desirable.] 5. Why is mold on the same
substance of various colors? 6. Can you give the address of a
specialist on fish? [We can not, but should be very gratefid if
suck a fierson would volunteer his assistance in answering our
young friends. ]
ANSWERS.
I will gladly answer any member of the A. A. who may wish to
know the publisher, price, etc., of any book or pamphlet, if he will
enclose a stamp.-T. Mills Clark, r17 E. i7th St., New York, N. Y.
In answer to the question, "Do ants live all winter?"--Yes.
Last Friday, while skating, I found a sheep's skull. I brought it
home and put a glass tube near it. About 27 ants crawled into the
tube.- L. G. Westgate. [Sir John Lubbock kept two ant queens
alive for more than 7 years.]
Pebbles are formed by the violent washing of small fragments of
rock, broken and carried along the bed of a stream.-J. K. Graybill.
In answer to A. S. G.: The name "sea-bean" is incorrect, but
was given to the large brown beans that are often polished and sold
as ornaments, because they are often found on the sea-shore. The
real name of this plant is the Scimitar pod, or Entada scandens."

661

THE LETTER-BOX.

It is a member of the Leguminosme, or bean family, and grows in
India and South America. It is a strong climber. Its large flat
pods are hard and woody in structure, and are from four to six, or
even eight feet, in length. These are often curved so as to resemble
a scimitar. The beans sometimes fall into the sea, and have been
carried by the Gulf Stream as far as the coast of Scotland, where
they have been known to germinate.- Hiram H. Bice.
Many sea-beans come ashore at Galveston. The tide before full
moon brings them in greatest abundance. I have gathered as many
as 300 good ones in a walk of 5 miles. I think there are 6 or 8
kinds. Two kinds, I know, grow on vines. The largest are four
inches in diameter, half an inch thick, and very dark brown. I
planted.6 of them at high-tide mark. All grew, and in less than 4
weeks had run 30 feet, all the vines running toward the west. The
leaves were from 2 to 4 inches long, and half an inch wide, and more
than an eighth of an inch thick. Theywere very dark green on the
upper side and light on the under side. Edges of leaves smooth.
I have planted other kinds, but they do not grow so well. None of
them grow in the sea. Possibly, however, the little black-eyed
scarlet peas do.-J. G. S., care Box IrT, Tyler, Texas.
NOTES.
89. Coal.- I have had an opportunity of going into the largest
coal mine in Des Moines. Above the vein of coal is a black, soft,
crumbling shale, of a very thin laminate structure. Fossils are
sometimes found in this. The coal is traversed by thin veins of a
grayish rock, dense and heavy; between the veins of coal are
layers of fire-clay, gray in color, and greasy. In this clay is
found a fossil plant, called Lepidodendron. This was a reed,
with a soft pith and a hard and much-scarred bark. It was one of
the coal-forming plants, and is often found near coal. Iron pyrites
of beautiful golden color, and small globules of sulphur, occur in
veins. But the most beautiful thing found in the mine is the salt-
petre. This is found in needle-like crystals, transparent, of a light-
green color, and decidedly resembling moss. The logs used as
props are covered with two sorts of fungi. One is that beautiful little
fungus with slender black stem and white creased head, called Mar-
asmus, the other is like the common fungus that grows on old
stumps. Both kinds are pure white when they grow underground.
As I was labeling my fossils, a gentleman who has taught in a college
for fifteen years told me I was all .-. and that plants never had
anything to do with the formation .:1 :. l What do you think of
that?-A Friend.
[We think he was mistaken.]
go. Spring-beetle.--We put a Spring-beetle, or Elater, into our
poison jar, and left it there for three days. After it had been out a
week,it began to show signs of life, and finally quite revived. The
jar had been freshly made, and everything else that was put into it
died instantly.- Laurena Streit, Ch. 434.
91. Pyxis.- In the 33d report, A. A., Jan., 1884, I find in Prof.
Jones's schedule the pyxis classed with indehiscent fruits. Is it not
a mistake? Was not the peculiar manner of opening, resembling
the lid of a box, the reason for its name ?-Anna L. J. Arnold,
Prin. High School, Urbana, O.
[It was a mistake, as was also the printing of Figures Insect
World, for Figuier's Insect World, in last number.]
92. Wheel-bug:- Alonzo Stewart has been studying the so-
called "Nine-pronged wheel-bug." He has found specimens with
as many as 12 prongs. This bug is very destructive to other insects,
which it kills with its beak, through which is emitted a poisonous
fluid. One that he kept from Aug. oIth to 27th ate, among other
things, a Telea Polyfipemus, a poi-
sonous spider, and some katydids, -- -
and itatefrom 5 to to caterpillars an ... I
hour.-R. P. Bigelow, Sec. io9. ii ; '
[We would like to hear more of
this curious bug; what is its Latin
name?]
93. Seals.-Seals are able to d i'
close their nostrils, and can remain ,I' I
under water 25 minutes.
94. Prometea.- I have found
7 Promethea cocoons on a small ,
wild cherry-tree.-F. P. Poster, '
Sec. 440.
95. Woods.-I should like to" ,
mention my way of preparing
woods for the cabinet. Cutpieces '
from a log, so that the bark shall
form aback like the back of a book. -
They should be 5 inches in height, 4 in width, and one and a half in
thickness. The wood may then be finished in oil or varnish. On the
back, about two inches from the top, cut away the bark between par-
allel incisions, and glue a piece of paper across on which to write the
label. So prepared, they present a very handsome appearance on
the shelf. The accompanying sketch may make it clearer.-Myron
E. Baker.
96. Parasites.- On a liriodendron (tulip) tree, I found about
30 Promethea cocoons, one of which, as it would not rattle, I

opened, and within I found, closely packed, 7 small, white, soft
bodies. They look like larve of some sort, but I can not recognize
them.-G. C. McKee.
[Perhaps some of our friends will .. /
help us name these strange in- -
truders? Meanwhile, you should
watch them carefully, make notes _-- .
on their growth, etc., and report .-
later.] .. .
97. Will some one give me particulars about the fossil here
sketched?-W. D. Grier.

REPORTS FROM CHAPTERS.
535. Chapel Hill, N. C.--I send you the dates at which some
of our more common flowers bloom : White violets, Feb. 16; Blue
violets, all winter; Hyacinths, Jan. 28; Crocus, Jan. 30; Honey-
suckle, Feb. 8; White spirea, Feb. 28; Houstonia, Feb. 3; Daisies,

J. Martin.
'264. Gainesville, Fla.- This Chapter has disbanded, as its secre-
tary is dead. Paul E. Rollins was a private in the Gainesville
Guards, and on his death, at a special meeting, a series of resolutions
was passed, of which the following is one: "His upright and
noble life endeared him to us all, and should be a standard for our
emulation."
Query.- I am a subscriber to ST. NICHOLAS, and notice in the
April No. a note, No. 85, that H. A. Cooke, with others, has de-
cided that the rings of a tree do not indicate the years it has lived,
"but the number of stoppages in its growth." Having a personal
interest in the matter, I would be much indebted to him for the in-
formation how many such "stoppages" can occur in a year, and
the causes of them.- Respectfully yours, Jno. M. Hamilton.
548. Cranford, N. J.- In answer to a March question, the
richer the soil is made, the darker the color of flowers will be.
Charcoal, indigo and ammonia, put around the roots of plants make
the flowers change color, and copperas brightens them.- L. M.
258. Reading, Pa.-We have a man here in town that we are
very proud of. His name is Herman Strecker. He works in a
marble-yard all day, and at night studies for many hours. He has
the largest collection of butterflies in the U. S., and the second
largest in the world. I think it numbers 75,ooo.-Helen Baer.
I have decided not only to take notes of what I see, but also to
make pencil sketches, for I find that when you try to draw an
object, you are forced to observe numerous little points of structure
and form that would totally escape your notice otherwise.-W. E.
McHenry.
187. Mr. Lintner, the State entomologist, has been very kind to
us, and has given us a copy of his first annual report. We have a
MS. paper, The Naturalist, to which all are supposed to contrib-
ute. Our president and secretary form a literary committee," and
decide upon a programme for each meeting, and edit the paper. Each
member keeps a note-book, and the reading of these forms an im-
portant part of our meetings. Also, at each meeting, each member
brings two questions, written on a slip of paper, and hands them to
his right-hand neighbor, whose duty it is to answer them the next
week.- John P. Gavit, Albany, N. Y. (A).
381. New Orleans.-Though a small Chapter, we are one of the
many whose interest has never 1, _-.1 'J e have built a cabinet,
and will have to build another, ,'.: i i. -P. Benedict.
51. Our Chapter now has 12 members, and we have about 200
specimens of insects.-Kitty C. Roberts, Blackwater, Fla.
478. Comstocks, N. Y.-Our Chapter is progressing fairly. Our
secretary attempted to stuff a red squirrel the other day, from
memory of what he had read on the subject. When it was done, it
looked as if it had been struck by lightning, but it was stuffed just
the same.- G. C. Baker.
-i2. Boston, Mass.-We gave an entertainment and exhibition
of our minerals, and although it was a very rainy evening, we had
a fair audience, and made $6.90. We anticipate great pleasure
from the numerous field meetings we are planning.-Annie S. Mc-
Kissick.
Bird's-eggs identifed.-I shall be happy to identify bird's-eggs
for members of the A. A., if sent to me.- D. C. Eaton, Woburn,
Mass., Box 1255.
The reports from our Chapters have been continually increasing in
interest, and we wish to express our thanks to the faithful secretaries.
We must hint to them, however, that they try to condense their
monthly letters little more. Please don't use two words if one will
serve the purpose. Take these printed reports as models. But
once a year we desire a long, and detailed report from each Chapter.
This should be written as carefully as possible, and sent on or near
the anniversary of the Chapter's organization. Remember to put
the number of your Chapter at the head of the first page, and
always.give address in full. Address all.communications, except
questions about specimens, to the President.
MR. HARLAN H. BALLARD,
Principal of Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.

662

[JUNE,

1884.] THE RIDDLE-BOX.

663

THE RIDDLE-BOX.

central letters, reading down-
ward, will spell the name of a
member of parliament, to whom
Nicholas Nickleby applies for
a situation as private secretary.
CROSS-WORnS : i. The sur-
name of a good-natured black-
smith, who is married to a ter-
magant. 2. The surname of a
bright young man who boards
with Mr. Pocket. 3. The sur-
name of the proprietor of Doth-
eboy's Hall. 4. The surname
of a retired banker, who prides
himself on being a practical
man. 5. The surname of a
pompous, self-satisfied man,
who alludes to his daughter
Georgiana as "the young per-
son." 6. The Christian name
of a great friend of Philip Pirrip.
7. The surname of a footman in
the service of Angelo Cyrus
Bantam, Esq. 8. The surname
of a memberof Mr. Crummles's
dramatic company. 9. The
surname of a neighbor of Mrs.
Copperfield. MYRICK R.

CONCEALED HALF-
SQUARE.

4 i_ A-',I
.. -- _l--

THIS differs from the ordinary numerical enigma in that the
words forming it are pictured instead of described. The answer is a
quotation from the play of Coriolanus." The letters of the mono-
gram in the upper right-hand corner spell the name of an actor
who is very popular in the character of Coriolanus."

CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.
MY first is in German, but not in waltz;
My second in errors, but not in faults;
My third is in trappings, but not in gear;
My fourth is in landing, but not in pier;
My fifth is in orange, but not in pear;
My sixth is in labor, but not in care;
My seventh in salmon, but not in smelts;
My whole is in Venice, and nowhere else.
MAY L. F.

A DICKENS CENTRAL ACROSTIC.
EACH of the names alluded to contains seven letters, and all may
be found in the works of Charles Dickens. When these are rightly
guessed and placed one below another, in the order here given, the

.. IN the following sentences
S are concealed words which may
replace the dots in the above
''--- diagram. When rightly select-
t 7 ed, the lines will read the same
I across as up and down.
13 1. When we reached Aleppo,
S4 Tom acquainted me with the real facts of the case. 2
49 I hope Rasselas will prove more entertaining than
SVathek. 3. I wish you would invite Nettie to spend
S I 3 the day with us. 4. I told Clara to rest while we pre-
pared the luncheon. 5. If ma told you to, do it at once.
j 6. Laura said she would do it for me. 7. Then let us
run across the lawn. ALMA.

BEHEADINGSG.
r. BEHEAD to pull away by force, and leave repose. 2.
Behead to hang about, and leave above. 3. Behead fanciful and
leave to distribute. 4. Behead to agree, and leave a confederate. 5.
Behead a fish, and leave to put to flight. 6. Beheadangry, and leave
to estimate. 7. Behead flushed with success, and leave behind time.
8. Behead a wanderer, and leave above.
The beheaded letters will spell the name of a poet. F. M. N.
PROVERB PUZZLE.
TAKE a certain word from each proverb. When the selections have
been rightly made, and the words placed one below another in the
order here given, the initial letters will spell the name of a place
famous in American history.
i. "As busy as a bee."
2. "As ugly as a hedge fence."
3. "As nimble as a cow in a cage."
4. "As knowing as an owl."
5. "As full as an egg is of meat."
6. "As virtue is its own reward, so vice is its own punishment."
7. "As busy as a hen with one chicken."
8. "As brisk as a bee in a tar-pot."
9. "As lively as a cricket."
o1. "As love thinks no evil, so envy speaks no good."
CYRIL DEANE.

THE RIDDLE-BOX.

ILLUSTRATED PUZZLE.

WHEN the figures in each picture have been translated into
letters they will spell the word necessary to answer the question for
the picture. EXAMPLE : Picture No. i. What are these men fish-
ing for? ANSWER: Cod. (C, loo; o; d, 500.) 2. What does
this lamp contain?
S. .. 3. Whatis thelit-

ie gil cry-
ingfor? 4.
What does
this kettle
need?
Where is
this horse
going ? 6.
What is the
man about
to do with
the rope ?
7. What ".
does this
musician want? GEO. BARDWFLL.

BURIED FLOWERS.

I. Bring me a hammer or chisel, Ellen. 2. Whenput in the sun
flowering plants generally do well. 3. See the tear, Oh, see the ear

that I must mend. 4. From such-a malignant.fever, few, if any,
recover. 5. "Do tell me another story about that sly old fox," a
listening child said. 6. In hunting the opossum. a child was the
first to spy it. 7. See what that child has done with his treacle, ma;
'tis all over his apron." 8. Let us each buy some of those delicious
sweet pears at the fruiterer's. FLORENCE AND HER COUSIN.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
MY primals and finals spell the name of a famous English come-
dian, who was born and who died
on June 28th.
. /OVI CO CROSS-WORDs (of equal length):
To captivate. 2. A volcanic
mountain of Ice-
"' :. /O land To dis-

farming establishment. 5. Flex ible. 6. M= -
To settle an income upon. 7. Aquatic
animals. MARION V.

lHOUR-GLASS.

CENTRALS, reading downward, spell the name of a restorer.
CROSS-WORDSs: i. To destroy. 2. Compact. 3. A mall fruit.
4. In anemone. 5. The nickname of a President of the United
States. 6. To direct. 7. Very wise. CHARLOTTE.

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER.
TRANSFORMATION PUZZLE. Primals, Decorations; finals, Mem- DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Russia; finals, Odessa. Cross-
orial Day. Cross-words: i. pray, DraM. 2. task, EasE. 3. words: i. RanchO. 2. UniteD. 3. SalutE. 4. SerieS. 5.
fall, CalM. 4. slip, OliO. 5. peat, ReaR. 6. Emma, Amml. 7. IssueS. 6. AlaskA.
dogs, TogA. 8. odor, IdoL. 9. ibex, ObeD. o1. sort, NorA. DECORATION DAY REBUS.
s. glad, SlaY. Brave minds, however at war, are secret friends,
FRAMED WORD-SQUARE.- From I to 2, Logwood; from 3 to 4, Their generous discord with the battle ends;
Monitor; from 5 to 6, Portion; from 7 to 8, Horizon. Included In peace they wonder whence dissension rose,
word-square:, ..- Red. a. Eve. 3. Den. And ask how'souls so like could e'er be foes."
DOUBLE DIAGONALS.' From left to right, Jasmine: from right to Prospect ofPeace, by Ticknell.
left, Diamond. Cross-words:, i. JointeD. 2. pAcifIc. 3. paSs- ST. ANDREW'S CROSS OF DIAMONDS. I.: I C. 2. Vat. 3.
Age. 4. comMand. 5. prOvIde. 6. eNsigNs. 7. DisputE. Valet. 4. Calomel. 5. Temen. 6. Ten. 7. L. II.: i. L. 2.
CREMATION-CHARADE. Carbon-dale. Bet. 3. Braid. 4. Learned. 5. Tinny. 6. Dey. 7. D. III.
BEHEADINGS. Abrahamn Lincoln. .Cross-words: 1. i. L." 2. Nit. 3. Naked. 4. Likened. 5. Tdnse. 6. Dee. 7.
B-and. 3. R-end. 4. A-rid. 5. H-our. 6. A-m:en. i -- D. IV.: i. L. 2. Sat. 3. Synod. 4. Languid. 5. Touse. 6.
8. L-ark. 9. I-bid. o N-ail. I. C-owl. 12. O-men. 13. 'Die. 7. D;. V.: D. 2. Era. 3. Eland. 4. Dragoon. 5.
L-ear. 4. N-eat. Anode. 6. Doe. 7. N.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA : ZIGZAG. Brooklyn Bridge. Cross-words: I. tuB. 2. oRb. 3.
Among the .: ,;, r.....i hs May stands confessed Owl. 4. bOy. 5. arK. 6. oLd. 7. Yes. 8. oNe. 9. huB.
The sweetes -1 I,.. I,.. colors dressed. "o iRe. xr. Ice. r1. aDd. 13. biG. 4. eEl.
WoRD-SQUARE. I. Uranus. 2. Recent. '3. Accuse.' 4. Neuter. MAY DIAGONAL. May-day. Cross-words: i. Months. 2. tAr-
5. Unseen. 6. Sterne. box. 3. crYing. 4. maiDen. 5. ashmAn. 6. SundaY.
ANSWERS TO 'MARCH PUZZLES were received, too late for acknowledgment in the May number, from Bella and Cora Wehl, Frank-
fort, Germany, 6 Lily and .Agnes Harburg, France, so.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE APRIL.NUMBER were received, .before. _;i :.: rom B..P. B..and Co.--S. R. T.-
" Three Units" --Arthur Gride H. and Co.- Katie L. Robertson Madeline Vultee I .:. Stones".--'Fannie,Carrie, and Saidie
- Maggie T. Turrill Hattie, Clara, and Mamma Zealous Hyslop Charles Haynes Kyte Wm. H. Clark Daisy, Pansy, and
Sweet William Shumway'Hen and Chickens Kina Francis W. Islip Hugh and Cis- M. W. Hickok E. Muriel Grundy.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER were received, before April o2, frdm Frank Hoyt, x-Harry J. Lynch, --L. O.
Gregg, i-Willie D. Grier, i- Minnie E." Patterson, r Mary Chamberlin, i- Cousin Mamie, 2-Julia Hayden Richardson, 2-
Walter Lindsay, Laura G. and Lilian, x Paul Resse, x Viola Percy Conklin, 3 Susan Pottles and Zenobia Higgins, 4-
Jessie E. Jenks, 2-F. and H. A. Davis, It--Chas. Crane, x-K. L. M., 3- Julian A. Keeler, 2-Eva Halle, 4-" Pepper and
Maria," to-- Mabel Vida Budd, 4 Mary Ashbrook, Fred. S. Kersey, Jennie Balch, 4 Sinbad the Sailor," 6- Gracie Smith,
6- Ettie E. Southwell, 2- R. K. Miller, 2 Emma M..L. Tillon, 2- F. Sweet, i Flip," Mabel Palmer, I E. Cora Deemer,
3-E. Gertrude Cosgrave, x Leon Robbins, i- Grace Zublin, I- Clara Powers, Alfred Mudge, i -Edith and Lawrence Butler,
--Natalie Sawyier, 5-Dickie Welles, r-Cooper, Charley and Laura, 7-James M.Bafi', 2-"Fin I. S.," 8-Ruth and Sam
Camp, 8 Alfred Hayes, Jr., I Marian C. Hatch, 3 Alan M. Cohen, x Van L. Wills, i Jessie and Madge Hope, x Effie K. Tall-
boys, 7 "Rex Ford," 6- Worcester Square," Mary A. and Helen R. Grahger, i Helen W. Gardner, Mamie H. Hand, 4
-Hessie D. Boylston, 2-Alice-F. Wann, i-Susie May Lum, --Alfred Hayes, Jr., x-Anna Schwartz, --No Name, New York,
xI -Bertha Feldwish, q-Hattie E. Bacon, i -Arthur Hyde, 3-Albert Lightfoot, 4 -Edith Moss, x- C. H. Aldrich, so--Mamie W.
Aldrich, 2--Irma and Mamie, 3-'Eleanor, Maude, and Louise Peart, 3--Alex. Laidlaw, 7-" The Newsome Family," 5-Angela V.,
x-Unknown, 5-William H; Clark, i--Julie and Tessie Gutman, i-Edward Livingston Hunt, 2-Jennie and Birdie, 5-Mary
Mayo, I -George Habenicht, i E. D. and S. S., -Janet Burns, 6- Fred. E. Stanton, 6- Horace R. Parker, 5 Alice Westwood,
9-Ruthand Nell, 7-Rose W. Greenleaf, Fred. J. Wheeler, "An Amateur," 3-Marguerite Kyte, I -Marie and Florence, 4-
Appleton H., 7- Bess Burch, 8- Professor and Co., 8- Emily Danzel, I Millie and Mamma, 3 Arthur Barnard, 2 Maggie,
Nellie, and Alice Smith, 2 Lois Hawks, a Hattie, Lillie, Ida, and Olive, 5- George Lyman Waterhouse, o L. C. B., 7 Ida and
Edith Swanwick, 7- Charlotte and Harry Evans, 5- H. I. D., 2 Mary Stuart, 7- Crocus, 9- "Captain Nemo," x Vessie W.
and Millie W., 8- B. S. Latham, 2--Lulu and MIamie, 4-J. A. Platt, I C. W. F.; 4- W. Sheraton, Jennie M. Jones, I -
B. Palmer, 4-J. C. Winne and G. C. Beebe, 5-Buzz Gree and Co., 3.

664

[JUNE.

	Front Cover
	Frontispiece
	A child's night-thoughts
	Sixth spinning-wheel story
	June
	Two boys of Migglesville
	The spider and the tuning-fork
	The Brownies' voyage
	Flower fancies
	Gustavus Kean's spelling
	Daisy time
	The scarlet tanager
	A page from young contributors
	Margaret's "favor-book"
	How we fooled the storks
	The bashful Marguerite
	Historic boys
	Queer game
	Marvin and his boy hunters
	For very little folk: Grandma's...
	The St. Nicholas almanac
	Jack-in-the-pulpit
	Why?
	The letter-box
	The riddle-box
	Back Cover
	Spine

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